Vampire Dancing (33 page)

Michael kneels beside Amber. She's lost a lot of blood. That thing really did a number on her. “Wendy, find me a knife - don't remove the one from that thing's chest. We can't take any chances.”

“But it's dead,” Wendy replies. “Not that I have any intention of pulling a knife out of a body.”

“The body's compromised, but the thing inside was separate.”

“O-kay, so can't it just enter into any one of these bodies lying around?”

“I don't think so. The vessel has to be prepared for it somehow. I've no idea what the process is, or what the hell these things even are - demons, I suppose - as crazy as that sounds.”

Wendy gives a hysterical laugh. “That's how you guys look to me, drinking blood and stuff.
Cray-zee
.” She hands Michael a knife. “It's clean, if that matters.”

Michael takes it from her. “Let's just say it's nicer that it's clean.” He rolls up the sleeve of his shirt and makes a vertical cut on his arm that's a few inches in length.

Wendy winces.

Michael puts a hand behind Amber's head and gently lifts it. She makes a moaning sound and half opens her eyes. He puts his bleeding arm to her lips. “Drink.”

“Ugh, I'll never get used to seeing you people do this stuff,” Wendy says.

Blood trickles past Amber's lips and into her mouth. At first, she barely responds, but, before long, she's sucking hungrily on the wound.

“Take all you need,” Michael says.

“D'you think there's any more of these people?” Wendy asks.

“No, I think we got them all.”

Wendy sighs with relief. She takes off the armored vest. “So why are they after you?”

“I have something they want.”

“It must be valuable.”

“Try dangerous.” Michael watches Amber drink from his wound. At this rate, she'll be on her feet in no time.

“I'm not going to ask what it is,” Wendy says.

“Huh?”

“What it is you have that's so dangerous.”

“It's my fashion sense,” Michael jokes. “It's killer.”

Wendy chuckles. “It looks pretty killer right now.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Amber says softly, “it's not so bad.” She opens her eyes and looks at Michael.

Referring to Amber's dress, Michael says: “That's right, you like rips, don't you.”

Amber offers a faint smile. “I think I have a few more now.”

Micheal's gaze lingers on Amber. It feels like he's looking at someone he's romantically associated with. It's such a strange sensation, because he's only just met her, and there's no way she can be feeling the same way.

I stand alone
.

Michael shakes the vision of the destroyed cityscape from his head.

“Is something wrong?” Amber asks.

“Just a mild headache,” he replies. “It's been a helluva night.”

Amber sits up. The sight of Laura's body forces her look away. “I watched it kill her.”

“It was horrible,” Wendy says.

Amber's eyes fill with tears. “She saved me.”

Michael puts his arms around Amber and pulls her close. “I know.”

“She shouldn't have died because of me,” Amber continues. “I don't deserve to be here at her expense.”

“Hey,” Michael says, “she wouldn't have saved you if that was the case.”

Amber covers her eyes and begins to weep.

Wendy fishes around inside the pocket of her denim jacket. “I have a tissue. It's unused. I use them to wipe lipstick smudges. I'm utterly hopeless at applying lipstick.” She hands the tissue to Amber.

Amber takes the tissue from Wendy - “Thanks” - and wipes her eyes. “We need to get out of here. Before the cops arrive.”

“This is gonna be all over the news,” Wendy says.

“I doubt any of this will make the news,” Michael replies. “At least, not the same version of events we witnessed.”

“You mean they'll cover this up?” Wendy asks.

“They'll have to,” Michael tells her.

“But, besides you guys, I'm the only witness to what really happened. Won't that put me in danger?”

Michael's uncomfortable silence tells Wendy all she needs to know.

“Oh my God, what am I gonna do? These people are complete psychos.”

“You could always come with us.” Amber says.

Wendy shakes her head. “But my parents ... they're waiting for me at home. They'll be worried sick.”

Michael approaches Wendy. “There's a possibility you'll be putting them in danger if you go back.”

“
What
?”

Michael puts a hand on the girl's shoulder. “Let's just get out of this place first, then we'll take it from there, okay?”

Wendy looks at Michael. She trusts him. Him
and
Amber. “Okay.”

“Now they've finally stopped coming,” Michael says. “we should take the Worth street exit. The other direction will be full of cops and MTA.”

“Worth street's closed off,” Wendy says. “You can't get out that way.”

“Trust me, you can,” Michael replies.

“I don't even want to know how you know this stuff,” Wendy says.

Amber walks up to them. Her eyes are puffy. “I do - I have all sorts of questions about tonight - but I'll ask him later.”

Wendy looks amused. “Looks like someone's been keeping secrets from his wife.”

Amber looks disapprovingly at Michael.

“Ah, about that,” Michael says. “Technically, we're not married.”

“We're not married at all,” Amber says. “We only just met.”

Wendy turns to Michael. “Oh my God, are you kidding me? But you said-”

“Forget what he said,” Amber says.

Wendy looks at them both. “You really do look married.”

Amber folds her arms. “Thanks.”

“No, really, you'd make a great couple. You both have a lot of emotional baggage. You wear black, drink blood, cut yourselves and kill people ... You're like really dangerous Emos.”

“Right,” Michael says. “we should definitely go.”

*

He watches them leave the train then turns from the window. Sitting on the nearest seat, he plucks a cellphone from the inside pocket of his trench coat and makes a video call. After a short time, a gray-haired man appears on the five-inch screen.

“
Have you secured Rhodes
?”

“No,” the man in the trench coat says. “Things didn't go according to plan.”

“
What went wrong
?”

“Everything. The woman - Laura Novak – she had her own agenda.”

“
In what way
?”

“I'm not sure. But she was helping Rhodes in the end.”

“Was
helping Rhodes
?”

“She's dead now.”

“
I see. And what about Rhodes
?”

There's a pause before the man in the trench coat answers.

“He's been consumed by the merchandise.”

The gray-haired man looks displeased.

“
Does he know what's inside of him
?”

“I believe he must - to some extent.”

The gray-haired man mutters something to himself before speaking again.

“
Rhodes is no longer of any use to us
.”

“As you wish,” the man in the trench coat replies. “And what will become of Verestanias?”

Responding to the question appears to pain the gray-haired man. He draws in a deep breath then exhales.

“
Lost to us
.”

“Indefinitely?”

“
No. But having Rhodes in our possession in his previous ignorant state would have made things so much easier
.”

“One more thing,” the man in the trench coat says. “There's another one, like Rhodes and Novak. A woman.”

“
Does she know anything about us
?”

“Unlikely. I have a feeling she and Rhodes have only just met. I can take care of her if you'd like.”

The gray-haired man ponders the request before replying.

“
All of this ... it's merely a setback. Our goal remains the same. Do whatever you deem necessary to bringing us one step closer to acquiring Verestanias. I don't care what that is. No cost is too high
.”

“I understand.”

The man in the trench coat terminates the connection.

03:00 am
...

The three of them walk along the faintly lit subway tunnel, looking every bit as battered and bruised as they feel. Amber's collected her shoes, but she's not wearing them. She's holding them by the ankle straps, intending to put them back on once she reaches a proper flat surface.

They haven't been walking long when she stops and says: “Shit, I left my purse on the train. My jacket, too.”

“Your purse?” Michael says. He looks back. He can still see the front of the train. Everything is eerily silent. “Is there anything of value in it?”

“My phone,” Amber replies. “I have a few important contacts in there. I don't know their numbers off the top of my head.”

“Didn't you sync that stuff?” Wendy asks.

“Sync stuff?”

“If your phone's a modern one, it probably did it by default. Once you get a new phone all you need to do is put in your account details and all your stuff will be there.”

Amber looks blankly at Wendy. “Account details?”

“You best go get your purse,” Wendy says.

“Why don't we come with you?” Michael asks.

“I shouldn't be more than a few minutes," Amber says. "You two walk on ahead slowly. I'll catch up to you.”

Michael looks back again at the train.

“It's okay,” Amber says, “they're all very dead. I'll be quick.
Now go
.”

Michael concedes. “Okay, but hurry – oh, and there's a certain car you might want to avoid. I got a little carried away.”

“They got what they deserve,” Amber replies. She hands Michael her shoes - "Hold onto these for me" - then, after giving him a wink and a smile, turns and jogs back along the passage.

Michael watches Amber leave. Despite her assurance that she'll be okay, despite the fact that this place is now utterly devoid of activity, part of him wants to accompany her. He can't get the images of the vision, or the feelings that accompanied it, out of his head. Even though he's only just met her, he doesn't want to let her go.

Wendy tugs on his sleeve. “We going?”

"Yeah," he replies.

Michael turns his back on Amber's shrinking frame and continues forward with Wendy.

*

Amber slows to a stroll. She's already passed a few of the train's cars, but the one she's approaching has all of its exterior doors open. Walking by, she glances in at the first open doorway. She can see bodies piled on top of bodies, and there's blood spatter everywhere. The sight beyond the next doorway is the same.

Michael wasn't kidding. He really partied hard.

Twenty or so yards ahead, there's a body on the ground. It looks like Barbara. Amber feels a twinge of sadness. If there's such a thing as an afterlife, she's sure Barbara's there now, and with Harold. And if there isn't an afterlife ... well, Barbara's at peace anyway.

Amber decides to enter the train via the next car.
Back into the coffin
. Stepping inside, the sight before her is of a pleasantly empty space. No blood, no bodies, no broken windows. Her jacket and purse can't be more than a couple of cars along.

Making her way, she reflects on the events of the previous few hours, and marvels at what's taken place. Out of nowhere, Michael's life has collided violently and passionately with her own; two very separate threads woven together by events set in motion hundreds of years ago. Perhaps Michael is onto something with his fate theory, or maybe he doesn't truly believe in such a thing. Regardless, she can't help but feel excited at the prospect of getting to know him. Yes, he's clearly dangerous to be around, but then, crossing the street is potentially dangerous – at least, for normal people it is.

Amber finds her thoughts turning back to Laura – the reason she met Michael in the first place. In particular, she can't stop replaying the look in Laura's eyes after Devinniel dropped her to the floor. Of all the many times Amber has witnessed the life drain from a living soul, she has never once observed such a look of relief etched into a person's face. In a way, this haunts her more than anything else: that the life most people fight so hard to hang onto, can be such a relief to leave behind.