by P. J. Burgy
A call to Margo came next.
She talked about Martin – leaving out the part where he’d floated outside of her window and showed her his fangs, of course – and mentioned his offer – in less detail – to her as well.
“He wants you to move in with him and continue working? Girl, fucking do it! Are you crazy?”
Lizzie sighed. “With Tommy missing? With my life the way it is? Are you sure it’s a good idea?”
“No, it’s a great idea! Sell the house and move in with him. Holy shit. Lizzie, this is an amazing opportunity,” Margo said. “If a hot, rich man asked me to move in with him so I could focus on my modeling career, I’d take him up on it in a heartbeat.”
“It isn’t like people are buying houses in this area…”
“That’s your hang up?”
“No, it’s also my parents’ house, Margo. It doesn’t feel right,” Lizzie said.
“I hate to be so blunt, hun, but they’re dead and you’re alive. They’d want you to be happy.”
“Ah…”
“I gave my advice. You said he’s nice enough and he wants to support your craft. I say let him. And maybe it’ll blossom into something more down the road…”
“Margo…”
“Just saying. I’m sorry about Tommy, I really am. Look at Martin though. Just look at him. Especially his ass. Yum. Go for it. I would.”
“I’m serious.”
“I’m serious too. Tommy isn’t dead, Lizzie. We both know that. He’s a cowardly little shit hiding in a friend’s basement, hoping you take him back with tears in your eyes when he shows up again. Don’t be there when he shows up. Be with Martin.”
“I’m not… trying to be with Martin.”
“Fuck, just take the job and move in with him. Don’t shack up with him if you don’t want to, but def-o take that job, girl.”
Lizzie let out a low sigh. “What if… what if there is some dark secret he’s hiding? What then? If I live with him, what then?”
“Then you move in with me, girl, and I become your sexy sugar mama. Mmwah!”
Lizzie laughed a little.
“No one would bat an eye, baby. It’s twenty-fifteen.”
“Oh, jeez.”
Margo laughed softly. “Just do what makes you happy.”
“I’ll talk to him tonight and let him know. I think I’m going to do it.”
“Better. It’ll be great for you.”
“Thank you, Margo.”
“You also better stock up for the big snowstorm coming our way. The store’ll be picked clean if you wait too long.”
“Oh, I saw that in the news…”
“Three to four feet, girl. Ooh, maybe take it all with you to his place. If you’re gonna be snowed in, be snowed in with that hunk’a man. Mrowr! Get you some!”
“Oh dear…”
“I’m going to go, babe. But, hey, call me if you need more motivation to jump into his arms. If you don’t, I will. I could show him my angsty dark paintings from high school and steal him from you. Then he’ll be keeping me warm during the snowstorm.”
“Sure,” Lizzie said. “I’ll call you. Bye, Margo.”
“Byeeeeee!”
Lizzie hung up first.
She went to the store and bought some canned goods, milk, and bread for the coming storm. The small market had indeed been raided by the town folk before she’d arrived. The owner, an old man with a crazy white mustache – his name was Herbie – made chitchat with her at the register. He knew about Tommy and wanted to ask questions.
A middle-aged couple stared at her from over some shelves, whispering to themselves. The Fripps. Shrewd and scrawny with judging eyes. They glared openly.
Lizzie prepared to leave just as Teddy and Helena Miller entered the store. The girl ran up to her right away, bouncing as she approached.
“Hullo, Lizzie!”
“Helena! Teddy!” Lizzie exclaimed. “Doing some shopping before the big storm?”
“Dad sent us for supplies,” Teddy replied.
Mrs. Fripp, five feet away at the register loading her items onto the table, coughed. “This isn’t the liquor store.”
Helena rolled her shoulders, directing her attention to Lizzie. “I hope you are stocking up on the appropriate items. There’s more than a snowstorm threatening this town.”
“You kids are probably right about that,” Lizzie said, smiling patiently as she held her paper bag of purchases close to her chest. “I have a feeling that all will pass soon enough. Life can go back to normal.”
Helena frowned. “I don’t feel that way at all.”
“I understand. It’s been… really crazy lately.” Lizzie shook her head, swaying.
“Excuse me!” Mrs. Fripp said, trying to get by her. Her husband hung back, following like a beaten dog. “You’re blocking the door.”
“Oh, sorry, Mrs. Fripp,” Lizzie said, moving aside.
Helena and Teddy parted to allow the shrill whip of a woman to pass through their meeting and stared at her when she shot them dirty looks.
“Rude little things,” Mrs. Fripp hissed.
Helena rolled her eyes and stalked off into the store, Teddy rushing after her to catch up. They disappeared down one of the aisles.
“You don’t have to be so rude yourself,” Lizzie stated, her lips tight across her teeth. “They’re just kids.”
“Their mother was rude too. That’s where they get it from and their drunk of a father can’t control them now,” Mrs. Fripp muttered. “But that’s what you get when you… interbreed.”
Lizzie narrowed her eyes. “You’re disgusting.” With that, she walked away, pushing open the door and stalking away from the store. She went to her car, feeling sick.
She imagined having punched Mrs. Fripp in her ugly, pointed face. If she hadn’t been holding her bag of groceries, she might’ve…
It wasn’t like Lizzie to feel such compulsions and she swallowed thickly, putting her canned goods in the cabinet, and slamming the door. Her hands hadn’t stopped shaking.
She made some lunch – another frozen pizza. After the last few days, she didn’t feel much like working hard on anything. Even the idea of painting gave her a mild panic attack. The paintings were for Martin though…
Pushing past the anxiety, she grabbed her smock and treaded down into the basement, the lights humming to life after she flipped the switch.
She put on some music. An hour into painting and she didn’t regret it, finding some solace in the acrylic as she worked on a nude female figure curled up on her side in the snow.
The familiarity stung and she paused, reflecting on the clearing and the way the body lay. At the angle she’d chosen, the woman’s head wasn’t visible.
Because she doesn’t have one, Lizzie.
Her insides clenched.
Olivia lay dead and headless in the cold dark woods.
Lizzie touched her own chest, brows furrowing. She thought of Martin and his almost perfect smile. His eyes that cried blood at the thought of her refusing him. His genuine compliments and his mercenary view of hunting humans.
Lizzie was special. A talented human.
His new companion if she so chose.
Never to be on the menu.
His pet rabbit. The other rabbits had plenty of reasons to be afraid, but she could live out the rest of her days in comfort, lounging about in his nice, big house.
She’d be painting. And writing. Oh yes, she’d be writing up a storm. Maybe even publishing her books through an actual agent. He could afford to nod at the right person for sure. Her name would be on millions of bookshelves.
The thoughts flooded her mind and she stared at Olivia.
Other rabbits had to die. They always had to die.
She slept under the wolf, safe and warm.
And what of Hell? Eternal damnation?
‘If you believe in such things…’ he’d said.
Well, perhaps she didn’t.
He called her at eight th
at night.
“Hello, Martin,” she answered.
“Lizzie, hello,” he said. “I had a different idea for tonight, if it’s fine by you.”
“Hm?”
“I’d like you to stay over.”
“Stay over? Sleep over?”
“Yes.”
She sat on the futon, legs crossed, the phone to her ear. “What do you mean?”
“I mean come over for the night and stay until morning. I want to show you something, but I also want to spend some time with you.”
She considered. “I suppose I could pack up some snacks to bring with…”
“I’ve got the record player working.”
“Oh, you’ve got some music to share?”
“Yes, and I’ve got the television plugged in if you’d like to watch a movie with me.” His tone grew animated. “You do like to watch movies, don’t you?”
“I do. That would be fun. Do you own movies?”
“I have a few on DVD.”
“I’ll bring some with as well. And my sleep stuff. Do you have a bed for me?”
“Upstairs, yes.”
“I’ll spend the night then, Martin. I’ve been thinking about our discussion, and I might have an answer for you. We can hash it out tonight.”
“Grand,” he said. “The thing I’d like to show you, Lizzie, it happens in the morning. Just before sunrise. I’ll wake you for it if you fall asleep.”
“What is it?”
“It’s my way of proving my intentions. I trust you implicitly. My life is in your hands as much as yours is in mine, and I’ll show you that.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “All right, Martin. I’ll head over in a little bit.”
“See you then!”
She hung up.
He dropped the needle and the record player whirred to life, music beginning to fill the entertainment room. Martin turned to her, smiling widely, and gestured in the air. “Tada.”
“This is…” Lizzie searched for a name, eyes narrowed. “Ah, Leonard Cohen. Nice.”
The chorus swelled, ‘Ain’t No Cure for Love’.
“I have a few records. I love vinyl. You don’t even know how chuffed I was when it started to come back. That was until the fanatics joined in and made it weird,” he said, shrugging. “That’s how it goes though.”
“You’ve probably seen trends repeat themselves pretty often, I guess.” She lounged on the couch, comfortable in her fleece top and jeans.
“My, yes. And every time they swing back around again, the new ‘hip’ crowd acts like they’re the first to discover it. It’s a mark of pride and they brag about it more than they enjoy the trend itself.” He rolled his eyes and strode over to where she sat.
“And you stay hip, don’t you?”
“My lady, I’ve been hip since fourteen-fifty-two.”
“You’re old, Martin.”
He grinned. “Les jeunes sont si naïfs.”
“French?” She leaned up.
“Oui.”
Her smile widened. “Wow, what a surprise. A French vampire. Never seen that trope done to death in books or movies.”
“Hence why I wouldn’t want to publish my memoirs, even with such a talented person as my ghostwriter.” He winked mechanically, offering her his hand. “Dance with me.”
“Sure.” She took his hand and stood, meeting him on the floor. Though she didn’t know much about dancing, Lizzie let him lead and figured out well enough what to do when it came to moving her feet.
He slid a hand to her hip, still holding hers in the other. Dipping his chin, he chuckled. “Not exactly ball ready, but it’ll do. I can instruct you.”
“Because, ah, you’re invited to so many balls.” Looking up at him, she flushed when she felt his pull.
“You’d be surprised. We’re a tight knit community, those who are left. Every few decades we have events. I’m practically a celebrity.” He moved with her, his steps long and graceful.
“Do you bring your human companion along?” Her eyes traced over his attractive face, his energy coursing through her as he swept the two of them back and forth across the room, turning as they neared the walls.
“I’ve been known to, though I’m a rarity even among my own kind. It’s frowned upon, you see. I’m seen as somewhat of a renegade by many.”
“Oh, you’re that kind of celebrity.”
“I have a soft spot for creative types,” he said. “Maybe something I brought with me from my days alive.”
“The others aren’t like you then?”
“No, not really.” His smile wavered. “I’m one of the oldest, so I’m treated with reverence. I do as I please. There have been messy situations in the past, yes…”
“Messy how?”
“I don’t want to trouble your mind.”
“Might as well know.”
“Ah,” he said, bringing their dance to a slowed halt. “Ugly times. I chose a companion with a very dedicated family. It didn’t end well.”
“For who?”
“For anyone. It was intensely painful for me. They died, leaving me broken for many years. As long an existence as I’ve had, I can still weep from grief. I still feel.” He placed her hand on his chest. “That’s why it’s so important that you choose wisely.”
“I’ve made my choice, and it’s yes…”
He brightened. “Yes?”
“Yes.”
“I haven’t the materials necessary to do the ritual tonight, but if you’re sure, we could bind tomorrow at midnight. If it’s what you want.” He blinked once, tilting his head down and touching her cheek.
“It is,” she whispered.
His smile spread wide, and he beamed. “I’m so happy. This joyous feeling inside me… it’s… it’s so powerful! I could cry again, Lizzie! Tomorrow night it is!”
“Grand!” She smiled at him.
He leaned in and kissed her, his mouth cool and his hands chilly on the sides of her face. She yielded again, pushing past the immediate and instinctual revulsion to his strange, dry tongue. His gravity had grown so strong that she found it easier to ignore that which had first perturbed her deeply. He moaned into her mouth, and she tasted the faintest hint of copper. She stiffened and his lips parted from hers.
“I can’t begin to express it!” he continued. “Oh, Lizzie, you won’t regret this. I’ll take care of you. Such good care of you. I love you so much!”
She stared up at him when he pulled back. Such eagerness filled his eyes that she couldn’t help but lick her lips and say something, anything, to keep him smiling. “Martin, I love you too.”
At her words – specifically ‘love’ – he radiated with glee and grinned from ear to ear. He pulled her close, embracing her. “Lizzie!”
Nearly crushed by his enthusiasm, she coughed. “Martin.”
“Oh, sorry!” He released her, brushing her shoulders down and checking her for injury. “I’m overwhelmed. Goodness. The emotions I’m experiencing are just too much for me.”
“Well, don’t break me in the meantime.”
“Ah, of course.” He touched her jaw.
Her face twisted slightly. “It’s going to snow, you know. Couldn’t we wait until the weekend to do this thing? I hate driving in it…”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll bring you over myself.” He dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand.
Her brow lifted. “So, vampires have magical four-wheel drive powers too now? I’m learning more and more every day, hah…”
“Pah. I’ll just fly you over. Faster. And you’ll love it.”
“Ah… fly?”
“Not afraid of heights, are we? I’ll hold you tight, I promise.”
“Maybe… ah.”
He laughed. “Why don’t we watch a movie, hmm? Wouldn’t that be nice? Did you bring something to eat or drink?”
“Yeah.” She nodded, still winded from his hug and worrying about the threat of being flown across town.
He insiste
d on holding her during the movie. She’d had first choice and went for something completely unrelated to anything supernatural, just to avoid the awkwardness it might induce. A classic, the 1979 movie ‘Alien’. He’d seen it, as she expected, but remained silent for the entire film regardless. He didn’t wince at the violent scenes.
The next movie on the docket was a strange pick she hadn’t seen coming. He held up a DVD of ‘Friday the 13th’ and waggled it in the air. “These are hilarious. Have you seen them?”
“Yes,” she said, nodding, amused. “Not sure it’s considered a comedy though, Martin.”
“I love this one. Let’s watch this next.”
He chuckled at a grotesque scene involving a hatchet and she smirked. While he didn’t speak during the movie, he did nod in approval at several gruesome deaths.
“Let me ask,” Lizzie said, leaning back to look at him as the end credits rolled. He had his arms wrapped firmly around her middle as they sat on the couch together. “Do you have a favorite vampire movie? I mean, accurate depictions or…”
“I wouldn’t say that I do.”
“Have you ever considered writing the studios a stern letter detailing the inaccuracies?”
“Ah, no.”
“So, what about werewolf movies? Are you natural enemies?”
“Ah…”
“Are there werewolves actually? Tell me.”
He grinned, shook his head, and gave her a squeeze. “You are, by far, the strangest and most adorable person I have ever met, Lizzie Clay.”
She required a break several hours in and found herself mystified at the state of his upstairs bathroom – dusty and dry with cracking walls. The water worked at least, and she washed her hands. It had been a good idea to bring her own amenities. Amused, she looked up at her reflection in the hazy mirror. Her hair had gotten a little mussed, so she fixed it.
Glancing at the large, claw footed bathtub, she imagined lying in it covered in foamy bubbles. The room needed some real TLC, and she considered the color of the walls. She was going to be living there, wasn’t she? Why not think up some aesthetic changes for her new home?
She walked downstairs and found him sprawled out waiting for her on the couch. Leaned on the armrest, he tilted his head, left arm out to welcome her. That hadn’t been their position before; now, he wanted a much more intimate arrangement.
