Jeremy Paxton looked glumly at his smart phone. For weeks he’d recorded lifeless videos, saying nothing. He didn’t know who he was anymore, or what he believed. He hadn’t answered Sister Amanda’s calls and had been “sick in bed” when his former companions came to talk to him.
They’d never understand what he’d done. He himself didn’t understand it.
He touched the video button, blerp.
“I saw something yesterday, friends, that made me shudder.” His old tone sounded phony. “No, that made me outraged!” He tried to feel outrage instead of frightened loneliness. “I saw a vampire applauded for getting naked and flying.”
His imagination dwelled on Lavinia’s naked body and what the Chinese girl would look like in leather (or maybe vinyl, he stumbled on precise details).
He ploughed on. “I don’t know how she flew but are we supposed to be happy that vampires are gaining new powers? If she turned into a bat first, what, would we have, have been even more ecstatic?”
Jesus, how clumsy could he talk? “These monsters are getting into our home. The Earth is our home! And we have to kick them off! No more loving up vampires!”
But at that, memory shoved in, too glaring to ignore. He turned off the recorder, put his hands over his face and lived again the night at the plaza when he’d compromised all his ideals.
♦
Over the hissing of the vampires a thick New York voice said, “Darling wife, darling wife,” comforting the sister of the dead vampire. Jeremy stood at the edge of Malcolm’s plaza “home,” hands at his sides.
Sister Amanda finished smoothing the sad little face of the blond vampire into something like peace. She stood and walked compassionately through the throng of vampires. They closed in behind but couldn’t touch her because, as she’d, wherever she walked she was with her Beloved and so was in a home.
Jeremy couldn’t imagine feeling so at home anywhere.
KerriAnne lay where Sister Amanda had gently placed her, just inside the barrier.
He looked without conscious plan at this vampire who might have helped him. She’d been stabbed from behind; the pointed end of the stake stuck up like a monstrous tick from her red striped shirt, glistening with whitish fluid. He put his hand on it. It was cold, wet, nasty.
Not sure if he intended anything, he tugged at the sharp end. His hand slipped but the stake moved, grating nauseatingly against a rib.
A thrum of power like a gasp of terror went through the body.
Jeremy’s breath went huhh and huhh again. If anyone saw him, if Keevian suddenly called, “Fuck you doin’, man?” or if Sister Amanda walked back through the barrier and put her hand on him, he would instantly stop, explain that he was just testing the wood in some way.
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But Sister Amanda was trying to comfort Sally and he heard the New York voice say clearly, “No offense but fuck off.” The wall of vampires blocked him from anyone’s view.
Still inventing explanations, he nervously gripped the protruding wood with both hands, his left hand pressing into the side of the girl’s (vampire’s!) soft breast. He had never touched a woman’s breast before. Breathing hard, face red, furtive and ashamed, he worked the stake back and forth until in one crunching slide it came free, pulling her blouse out into a tent that fluttered down.
He stared at the piece of slippery wood which seemed unconnected to anything. Did the vampire have a real heart, a fist-sized muscle, like he’d seen in biology class videos? Would it knit itself back together after being ripped open?
Almost casually, his gaze wandered down from the stake to the vampire herself. Her chest first, still with a hole torn in her blouse, through which ragged ends of pale flesh hung limply together. Not sure whether he was relieved or disappointed, he looked at the vampire’s face.
A pair of frightened eyes looked into his.
Her body moved. Hands trembling with shock, he fumbled the stake around so that it pointed at her again. “Don’t you move, he whispered harshly. “I, I’ll kill you dead again.”
She went still. He realized that the vampire magic had been about to throw her out of the plaza “home” and he had stopped it by telling her to be still.
She was completely in his power.
He had looked on the faces of hundreds of undead. Brandon and Satsuki had both killed a few, though Jeremy hadn’t. But he had never seen a vampire frightened.
Of him. She was afraid of him. He felt as powerful as a giant.
“I’ll do whatever you say,” said a little girl’s voice in a small breathless gasp. The mocking laugh and haughty words were gone. The eyes staring at him were soft and liquid, her hips quivered and Jeremy was suddenly aware of how sexy she was. Between the jolt of lust, the rage, confusion and self-loathing, he sat paralyzed. She stared at him with what seemed to be naked longing.
She saw all this and Sally could have told Jeremy about KerriAnne and her ways. But nothing crafty showed on her face; she only seemed sadly comfortable with helplessness as she waited, shaking, for his command.
He only had seconds. The others would never let him walk out with her. He hissed, “This is what you’re going to do. You’ll help me find him, you’d better help me find him. But you have to get out of here for now. Crawl out and disappear in the crowd, get lost. Tomorrow at midnight, you come to my house.” He repeated the address twice. By midnight his parents would be in bed. “Be there, at midnight. Or I’ll kill you. Do you promise?” He put the stake back to her heart so that the slippery point touched serrated flesh.
She cringed back, mouthing, no, no, please, I’ll be gone, no, no. Had she meant to say, I’ll be good? Oh, what was he doing? Once she was gone, what would force her to keep any stupid asshole promise? But she whispered, “I’ll be there. Just like you say. Anything for you, anything.”
He pulled the stake back, seeing her perfect breasts as her chest heaved (even the damaged one still filled her blouse beautifully). She gasped with relief and watched him, eyes shining, lips wet.
He motioned with the stake. “Leave this home. Get lost. But be at my house tomorrow at midnight. I’ll, I’ll let you in.”
She slithered, half crawling, half pushed by his command. She was gone. The crowd of vampires swallowed her up. Face red, neck buzzing, feeling like he would pass out, he looked furtively around.
Nobody had seen. It must have been meant to be or how could you explain that nobody had seen?
Oh, please, he begged silently, let no one look this way for just a few more minutes. He was so hard his testicles ached and he was as guilty as Judas. He couldn’t bear to see Sister Amanda’s wholesome, loving face.
He crawled several feet to the iron grill surrounding a city tree, dropped the guilty stake into it, and wiped his slippery hands. Then he leaned against the slender, bendable trunk.
It was so fragile, it would surely break if he leaned too hard.