Vampire Dancing (26 page)

Drawing close, his attention became focused on the far left room on the uppermost floor. Its windows were wide open. Beyond the frame, wispy drapes rippled in the mild breeze.

He had to get up there. He didn't know why. He just had to.

There was a trellis covered in thick vines attached to the wall. It led all the way up to the room. He gripped the frame and pulled. It seemed more than adequately fixed to the wall.

He took a deep breath and started to climb.

It didn't take him long to reach the window. He pulled himself onto the narrow sill and and remained perched there. On the right side of the room stood a small four poster bed. The bed was occupied by a young girl with blonde hair. She couldn't be any older than seven. He looked straight at her. She didn't seem at all frightened.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hello,” the girl replied.

“May I come in?”

The child gazed intently at Levagnion, perhaps taken by his peculiar luminous eyes. “Uh huh.”

Levagnion dropped quietly from his perch. He crossed the stained oak floor. A large picture on the wall facing the bed caught his attention. It depicted a unicorn, standing on the crest of a steep green hill that was brightly illuminated by the rays of the sun. The area surrounding the hill was cloaked in shadow. Within the shadowy region, flowers wilted and trees stood crooked and without foliage - rather similar to how things looked in the forest he had just come through. It was a rather beautiful, albeit strange, painting.

Below the painting stood a long black table. A tall red candle burned at either end. Levagnion picked up one of the holders. A little wax spilled onto the back of his hand. Such a strange holder. It was designed like a snake, coiled around a central stalk. He placed the candle back where he had taken it from then wiped the wax from the back of his hand. He noticed a small ceramic oil burner positioned at the center point of the table. This had to be the source of the scent which permeated the room. It was a sweet smell - fruity, like citrus, and flowery, with a mixture of herbs and spices. It was quite unlike anything he had ever experienced, and was particularly pleasurable.

On the adjacent wall, another two paintings hung, side by side. One painting featured a depiction of the very moon he looked upon so often. The other was of a rather strange looking planet with rings surrounding its perimeter.

“Do you like these paintings?” the girl unexpectedly asked. Her voice was as sweet as wild honey.

Levagnion turned to face her. “I find them a little strange. But I do like the Moon. I find it a very comforting beacon on lonely nights.” He approached the bed. “Do you mind?”

The girl shook her head.

Levagnion sat on the bed, close to the girl. “How fine this bedding is ... it is quite unusual.” He ran a hand across the fine satin weave. “Such a magnificent shade of red.”

“I like the color red,” the girl said.

“It is the color of our essence,” Levagnion replied.

The child stared back at him through curious blue eyes. “Who are you?”

“I was wondering when you would ask me this.”

The girl waited patiently for the visitor's reply.

“I am Levagnion,” he said. “I suppose you could call me a traveler.”

“A traveler? And where is it that you travel?”

“Oh, here and there.”

“Here and there?”

“Yes,” Levagnion replied. “You could say I am without abode.”

The girl looked sympathetically upon him. “I am sorry you have no home.”

It was at this moment, Levagnion realized a previously unimaginable pureness of spirit.

The girl pushed herself higher up the pillow and straightened her lace-trimmed nightdress. “Is this why you have come here? To find a home?”

Levagnion wasn't sure how to reply. In truth, he had no idea why he was in this place. He opened his mouth to say something, but before the words could reach his lips, the girl spoke once more.

“Can you fetch me my Mister Bear, please?” She looked to the mahogany side cabinet next to the bed.

Levagnion followed the girl's line of sight. At the far end of the unit, past another burning red candle, sat a rather plain looking teddy bear.

“Of course,” he said, and got up.

“Thank you,” the girl replied.

Moving around the bed, Levagnion said, “May I ask your name?”

“It is Anae.”

“Anae ... Such a pleasant name.”

Levagnion stopped near the end of the cabinet and picked up the teddy bear. It felt soft in his hands. He approached the side of the bed. “Here you are.”

Anae took the bear from Levagnion and brought it close to her chest. She thanked him once again.

Levagnion walked to the window and rested his hands on the sill. There was no moon to guide his thoughts tonight. Below, the mist continued to swirl.

“Will you not stay a little while longer?” Anae asked.

Levagnion resisted the urge to tell Anae that a child's bedroom was no place for a strange man, let alone a strange man like him.

It was then he became aware of his unnatural craving.

He turned from the window and said, “Would you like to see something magical?”

Anae nodded. “Uh huh.”

Levagnion closed his eyes. When he reopened them, his irises were are red as the sheets on the bed - even more impressive, they appeared to glow.

Anae gasped with fear and clutched Mister Bear tightly.

Nearing the bed, Levagnion said, “Do not be frightened.” His shadow surreptitiously slithered across the top sheet. “I will cause you no harm.” His fangs gleamed in the candle light.

Through the eyes of innocence, Anae watched Levagnion loom over her. Her grip on Mister Bear relaxed.

Levagnion sat on the edge of the bed. He spread his arms. Anae willfully submitted to his embrace. He gazed upon the smooth curve of her neck. This wasn't right, but the force driving him was so unnaturally strong, he felt he had no choice.

Do it, Levagnion
.

He closed his eyes and sunk his teeth into the girl's tender flesh. A soft cry escaped her lips, but she offered no resistance. Her lifeblood, silky and warm, filled his mouth and glided down his throat. Never could he have imagined anything tasting quite as exquisite as this.

Levagnion drew from Anae until her head fell limply to the side. Filled with alarm, he pulled back from the girl. The burning in his eyes diminished all at once.

What had he done?

The child lay lifeless in his arms.

He shook her gently. “Anae?” His heart was pounding. “
Anae
?”

Just then, he became aware of another presence in the room. He surveyed the area, but there was no one there; no movement, save for the gentle billowing of the drapes. He turned back to Anae and laid her head on the pillow. He then took Mister Bear and wrapped it in her weightless arms. She looked like she was merely asleep.

“Forgive me,” he said, his voice faltering.

Levagnion rose from the bed. He regarded Anae one last time before turning to leave. The room felt like it was moving all around him. It rendered his legs unsteady. He held onto a bedpost for support. Feeling he was about to vomit, he drew in a deep breath then exhaled. How could he go forward from this? What right did he have? He lurched over to the window and gripped the frame. The night sky beyond was as inviting as ever. If only he could reach it.

Tonight, he had taken the life of a child; a small, innocent girl called Anae. She had owned a soft toy called Mister Bear. She would never again name anything; would never see another sunset or sunrise; would never grow to maturity, get married or have children. No more would she shed tears of sadness or brighten the World with her laughter.

So it was with Anae, part of Levagnion would remain in this place forever.

Without looking back, he slipped out through the window.

The drapes rippled in the wake of his exit.

One by one, the candles in the room went out.

02:23 am
...

"What have you done!" Laura screams.

Michael snaps out of his momentary daze. He turns and lets rip with his firearm.

Stiles ducks his head an instant before multiple projectiles shatter the windows on the door he's crouching behind.
How could he have missed Rhodes like that
? He puts his lousy aim down to fear; fear that the crazed woman that killed his men will return and attack him when he least expects it. She's a spanner in the works, and her unexpected presence on the train is fucking with his expertise.

Laura lifts Amber's head. All sorts of things are going through her mind. Had she screamed out at this woman being shot through concern, or was it because she feared retribution was being seized from her grasp? If only Amber hadn't turned back at her request, hadn't tried to stop her torture. If only they hadn't shared eye contact. It had all been so easy up until that point.

Michael crouches beside Amber. He takes one of her hands and squeezes it. “Amber ... I didn't do this. I wouldn't have shot you.”

Amber looks at Michael. She tries to say something, but it's difficult.

“It's okay,” Michael says. “You just need a little space to heal.” He looks to Laura. “Get her out of here.”

Michael doesn't like the look Laura's giving him, and, under normal circumstances, wouldn't entrust Amber to her. All he can do is hope this woman's animosity has been diminished by Amber's willingness to take a bullet for her.

Laura struggles to her feet and sets about helping Amber to safety.

Leaving Laura to take care of Amber, Michael cautiously makes his way towards the opposite end of the aisle. He thinks he sees movement in the neighbori
ng car, and manages to fire a dozen or so rounds in that direction before his clip is spent.

"Shit," he mutters.

Sensing Michael is completely out of bullets, Stiles appears behind the door of the adjacent car. He has his rifle pointing in the appropriate direction. “Don't you so much as twitch!” He slides open the doors and enters Michael's car. “Lose the weapon, raise your hands and step back.”

Michael considers rushing this guy. He's sure he can get to him before taking too many shots. The only problem is that the rifle is aimed at his head, and he isn't faster than bullets. One false move and his head would look like a fruit salad, and, although he'd no doubt rapidly physically recover, he doesn't particularly want to find out if that sort of brain damage is something a miraculous healing cycle can fully repair.

With that in mind, he decides to comply. “So what happens now?”

Stiles uses his free hand to remove a strange looking gun from the side of his belt. “Now I shoot you with a tranquilizer strong enough to put an elephant out for twenty-four hours, then place you in specially reinforced steel bracelets - for that little bit extra peace of mind.”

“Good plan,” Michael says.

Stiles points the tranquilizer gun at Michael. “Just one thing I want to know before you take a power nap. Who is she?”

“You mean the woman you shot?”

“No, the one in the pink top - might even be cute if she wasn't fucking insane.”

“I have no idea who you're talking about,” Michael replies.

“Sure you do,” Stiles says. “Neat little trick she has, filling a subway car with blood then making it all go away.”

Michael raises an eyebrow. “You just made that up.”

Stiles chuckles. “You know, for a moment I actually thought she wasn't human, that she was something even beyond you. But I've had time to come to my senses.”

“I can see that,” Michael says.

“Sarcastic sonofabitch, aren't you?”

“I like to practise in front of the mirror whenever I get time.”

“Fuck you,” Stiles says. “and fuck that weird bitch accomplice you're with.”

“Seriously,” Michael says. “I have no idea who you're talking about.”

Disregarding Michael's words, Stiles says: “Is it some kind of hallucinogen you released into the train? Like a gas? Is that how we see all the blood and spiders.”

The blood drains from Michael's face. “Spiders?”

“Everyone's easier to kill when they're whacked out of their heads, right?”

Michael lowers his hands. “Scrap what I said before, I think I know what you're talking about - to some extent.”

“I
know
you know what I'm talking about.” Stiles aims his rifle at Michael's head. “Get your hands back up.”

Michael lifts his hands. “If there's another one of those things on the train, we're all still in trouble.”

“
Things
?” Stiles says. “I think you've been inhaling your own junk.” He points the tranquilizer gun at Michael's chest. “Time to take that nap.”