The Fertile Vampire (2 page)

I suppose I must've looked shocked because he stopped at my bedroom door where I was standing and said, "You don't understand, Marcie. What goes on between adults is consensual."

“Including her being a midnight snack?"

Later, I asked my mother if she'd known what he was before they married. She'd answered a little reluctantly, but finally said, "Yes, I knew."

The older I got, the more I was conscious of Paul's sexuality which was, no doubt, why my mother was so attracted to him. He seemed to lure every woman on the block. We had neighbors stopping in at all hours of the day and night, bringing us food, asking for advice and to say hello.

All of the neighbors, of course, were women. The men frowned a lot at Paul.

Or the attraction might have been his smell. Paul smelled like popcorn to me. Hot buttery popcorn, the kind that's bad for you.

When I went to college, it was with a sense of relief. I didn't like being around Paul. I didn't like being around my mother when she was with Paul. It was like he had some kind of freaky hold over her.

The distant mother I’d always known, the one who looked at me like she was surprised I was still there, had become this wide-eyed woman who sat and watched my stepfather as if he were a particularly tasty mouse and she a starving cat.

I spent years evading Paul, but when he was killed in my freshman year of college, my relationship with my mother didn’t get closer. You might say it was frost covered.
 

Little did I know I’d be fascinated by another vampire.
 

Doug had the same pervasive sensuality Paul did, but instead of popcorn, he smelled of caramel and cloves. After the first date – or the first good sniff – I knew he was a vampire. For some reason, it didn't seem to matter. Doug was funny, charming, intelligent and seemed to sense exactly what I wanted before I even knew it. In no time at all, I was absolutely and completely, madly in love.

Sex with vampires is one of their greatest selling points. Don't let anyone tell you any different. You might not be able to wrap your mind around the fact they drink blood – which they do – but you can certainly grasp mind blowing sex.

Everywhere he touched, I glowed or sizzled like an electrical current.

I still went to bed with him even after I found out about the other three women. A few weeks later, I managed to pull myself together and tell him to go to hell.

Evidently, vampires don't get told to go to hell very often. Or maybe my reaction to his harem surprised him. He promised never to be with another woman while we were dating. I turned him down. I'd found a sliver of pride, soft like leftover soap, but it would have to do. I couldn't go back to him. I couldn't turn myself inside out and become a
vestis
. The name for people who’ll do anything to be around vampires.

I call them groupies, myself.

Hollywood stars used to be a big deal. Vampires have replaced them. You can’t get on social media without hearing about Mr. Fanghead this or Miss Fanghead that. They started fashion houses (using their lanky hungry look to good purpose), cosmetic firms (the tanned look is so yesterday, honey) and been outed as scientists and heads of corporations.
 

They were the celebrities of our day.

Me? I’m as far from a celebrity as anyone can be. I’m a commercial insurance adjuster, which sounds about as exciting as cotton panties. But I like the work because it challenges me mentally and it’s stable. There’s something essentially human in being an insurance adjuster.
 

Vampires aren’t important to the insurance industry. We don’t insure them.

Vampires gravitated to more exciting jobs like race car driving, scaffold climbing, window washing, that sort of thing - all at night, of course. If they were hurt in an accident no biggie. Two or three days later they were back on the job. Companies with high worker comp claims loved hiring vampires. In fact, there was more outrage over them stealing jobs than being, well, vampires.

Now I was one of them.

On that cheery thought I allowed myself to take another nap.

C
HAPTER
T
HREE

Vampire got your tongue?

Two days later I was greeted with a dimmer version of Little Miss Sunshine. This nurse had black hair, brows wiggling like caterpillars over dark eyes and crimson lips.
 

“What happens now?”

Her face changed from easy affability to narrow eyed and gauging.
 

"You feel flush with energy," she said, making it a statement more than a question.

I didn't fill flush with anything. Making it to the bathroom meant I leaned on the single chair beside my bed, then the wall, then the door. I was still feeling weak and trembly. At the same time I wasn't going to admit it to her.

"Damned energetic," I said.

Her hands stopped fluttering around me. I sent a glance toward the wall, having realized days ago that the blinds didn't shield a window but a wall. It could be midnight for all I knew and Little Miss Sunshine could be a vampire herself.

"Normally we like patients to rest a week," she said. "Before the next step."

That didn't sound good. The coward I was didn’t ask: what’s the next step? I wanted to take this in inches.
 

"We've decided to send you off to counseling," she said.

Having been bored out of my mind for two days I was grateful for any change of routine. I'd watched enough television to recite the schedule for a dozen channels. For some reason I gravitated to murder shows. Anything featuring a murder mystery, from serial killer dramas to crime solving police procedurals, interested me. If there was blood, so be it.

This penchant for crime drama bothered me a little and I couldn't help but wonder if my humanity was slipping away bit by bit.

"Counseling?" I asked. "What's counseling? Like how to cope with your new life? That sort of thing?"

"Don't you think there should be? You go from human to –" her voice trailed away.

"Something paranormal? Subhuman? Weird?" I offered.

She left the room, but before she cleared the door, I called out, "So where do I go for this counseling?"

"I'll send an orderly," she said, not turning.

The orderly turned out to be a teenage volunteer. The cute young thing in a pink and white striped apron explained to me none of the other employees were available, but she would take me down to the chapel.

"The chapel?"

"Yes, ma'am. Isn't that where you're going? Counseling?"

When had I become a ma'am? But beyond the slam to my age, I didn't like the thought of being counseled in the chapel at all. Why was religion mixed in with this? Because I'd been turned after sex? Or because I'd indulged with a vampire?
 

The chapel was hidden on subfloor two, which meant two floors below ground level, something that didn't make me comfortable. Like being buried while still walking and talking.

The young girl stopped outside of a ordinary looking door. She pressed a button, smiled down at me, then bent to lock the wheelchair in place.

"The priest will be right out," she said.

"A priest?"

She didn't answer, merely smiled, turned and left me at a brisk walk. If my legs weren't shaking so bad, I would have been right next to her.

Was I supposed to walk in or wait?

Before I could decide, the door opened. I half expected a dark cavern of a  room but to my surprise, bright lights spilled into the corridor. A man stood before me dressed in a black business suit with a surprising red and yellow striped tie.

I expected a funeral director, I guess.

"Marcie?"

I nodded.

"You've come for your counseling session?"

Again, I nodded.

He held out his hand and I took it, surprised at his coldness or that my hand felt warm against his. The last vestige of my humanity? Or was he a vampire?

He helped me stand and I hesitated in the doorway. I felt weaker than before and wondered if I needed blood. I hadn’t been given anything to eat for the last three days and I was hungry.
 

The chapel had an artificially lit stained-glass wall at one end, garish yellows and oranges depicting a rising sun. In front of the stained glass was a podium and on either side of a wide aisle, straight-backed pews.

Sitting in the front pew on the right side was my mother, stone faced. To her right was my father, a man I hadn’t seen for years. To her left and separated by a little space was my grandmother, Nonnie, her white hair wrapped in a braid atop her head, her posture straight shouldered as she stared at the stained glass.
 

Before I could question their presence, he led me to the front pew on the left side of the aisle.

"You're probably wondering why your family is here," he said.

I nodded. Not one of them looked at me.

Did they know what I'd become? Was the reason for the counseling session to make me realize I would watch them die as I lived forever?

My longevity was the one thing about which I was certain. Doug, for example, was two hundred years old, but he admitted his age with a bit of shame. From what I understood the older you were the more powerful you became. Two hundred years was infancy in the vampire world.

What the hell would sex with a thousand year old vampire be like? Would it kill me?

"If you'll have a seat," the man said, smiling at me. His canines were exceptionally long, his brown eyes sparkling as if he and I shared a secret joke. A secret vampire joke.

All these people in such a closed space.

Should I warn my family?

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

You can’t judge a vampire by his fangs

My father glanced up, saw me, then looked away. Okay then.

I sat, folding my hands together, grateful I’d been allowed to dress. I couldn't imagine attending this "counseling session" attired in my backless hospital gown. Still, the stretchy top and jeans hardly seemed appropriate. I needed to be dressed for work: blazer/jacket over blouse/top with skirt/pants. I'm a firm believer in separates.

"You're a priest?" I asked.

The question summoned another smile.

“No," he said. "I am, if you will, your facilitator. Your mentor. My name is Niccolo Maddock.”
 

"I am the priest," said a voice in the back of the room. I turned my head to see a snowy haired gentleman walking up the aisle. In his hand, he held a thick leather bound Bible. When he stopped in front of me, I wondered if the Bible was supposed to be dangerous to me now. Would I disintegrate into a pile of ash if I touched it?

He thrust the book at me and said, "Put your left hand on the Bible and raise your right hand."

I hesitated, then did as he asked. I didn’t crumble into nothingness. When my right hand was raised, he stared at me, his blue eyes somber and distant.

"Do you solemnly swear what you say in this session is the truth and nothing but the truth, so help you, God?”

Everyone seemed to take a long breath as silence hung in the air. I've never been religious, but I had the feeling lying would be a dangerous thing to do.

"I do," I said.

He nodded and removed the Bible from beneath my left hand, folding his arms around it.

"So be it," he said and nodded to the vampire.

If Doug was only two hundred years old, this man had to be much older. What gave me that impression wasn't his appearance as much as the calm surrounding him. The air was still, heavy, almost portentous. (I was an English major, can you tell?) He didn't appear flustered when the priest moved to his side, even reaching out and taking the Bible from him to place it on the podium.

"Why is my family here?" I asked.

“In due time, Marcie."

My mentor and the priest conferred on the other side of the podium. I've been told vampires have heightened senses, but all I was experiencing was a human confusion. I couldn't hear them speak which annoyed me. I didn't know why I was here especially with my family sitting on the other side of the room ignoring me, but I wasn’t getting a good feeling about this.