Zamani (3 page)

Chapter
Three

Alex slept deeply without
dreaming.
 
She had no sense of time,
but when she woke and sat up in the bed in the back of Lucy’s VW van, she could
see that it was daybreak.
 
She
vaguely remembered Lucy leading her out to the van in the dark.
 
She’d been so grateful that it was
warmer in the van than it had been in the morgue, and she’d immediately fallen
asleep.
 
She barely remembered Lucy
sliding the door shut before going back in the building.
 
She did remember being confused about
the whole situation and that she had nothing other than a set of scrubs and Lucy’s
help to rely on.
 

She closed her eyes and flopped
back down on the bed, her hands over her face.
 
She tried to make some sort of logic out
of waking up in a morgue drawer in a body bag. Surely this was some sort of
prank.
 
Otherwise how would Lucy have
known to help her out?
 
And who was
this Lucy, anyway?

Her memories before waking
up in the body bag were hazy.
 
She
remembered Wren’s eyes, her lips on her own, and then sensation she’d never
felt before--a sweetness so wonderful
 
it bordered on
 
horrible.
 
The only word she could think of was
ecstasy. And with her ex. In the bedroom she shared with Liz.
 
She groaned just as Lucy opened the
driver’s side door and slid into the seat.

“You hanging in there,
Alexandria?”
 
Lucy didn’t wait for
an answer before she started the engine and backed out of the space.

Alex groaned again before
sitting up. “First off, you’ve got to start just calling me ‘Alex.’ I am doing
ok, I guess, for someone who just woke up in a morgue and is now sleeping in a
stranger’s van.
 
Let me guess--this
is some prank that Wren worked up.”

Lucy grinned. “Well, in a
sense, yes, I suppose it was.
 
The
problem is that even though Wren Anderson is the one who put you in the morgue,
she doesn’t realize you are alive.”
 
She eased the van into traffic. “We’re headed to Algiers. You need
anything before we get to the West Bank?”

Alex snorted. “Um, yeah, you
can take me home.
 
I’m really not in
the mood for this shit.”
 
She saw a
pack of cigarettes in the front and snatched them up, lighting one before
sitting back down on the mattress.
 
She found an empty soda can in the back she could use for an ashtray.
She smoked angrily, hot boxing the cigarette.
 

“Oh, honey, you are going
home with me.
 
I’ve got to explain
some things that you aren’t going to want to hear.
 
I promise you can do far more harm to me
than I could ever do to you, so that should make you feel a little safer or
better about this whole situation.
 
Light me one of those, will ya? I wasn’t sure if you were a smoker, but
I have to say I’m glad that you are.
 
I need one of those after the night I had.”

Alex chuckled this time as
she lit a fresh cigarette off the one she had going.
 
“Tell me about it.”

“Oh, I will.” Lucy took the
cigarette and smoked quietly as she drove toward the ferry. “I hope you don’t
mind the ferry.
 
Because I live in
Algiers Point it’s more direct than taking the Crescent City Connection.
 
I will warn you that you might feel ill
or strange as we cross over the river. That would be true whether we take the
bridge or the ferry, so I figure I’ll go my usual route.”

Alex didn’t understand why
the ferry or bridge would be a problem--they never had been before. But, once
the ferry got underway, she started to feel disoriented and her stomach churned.
 
“Thanks for planting the idea in my head
that I’d feel weird. I almost feel like I’m about to have a panic attack.”

Lucy shook the pack of
cigarettes at her. “Smoke another cigarette; it’ll help take your mind off
things.
 
We’ll get you home and you
can rest some more.
 
Once you’ve had
some sustenance, I’ll answer your questions.”

Lucy’s house was really
close to the ferry drop off.
 
It was
an older house on Belleville Street that had been well cared for. There was a
carriage house and bricked in courtyard.
 
Alex wondered if Lucy were renting it or if it was family money.

“You will be staying in the
carriage house.
 
Let me see if I
have some clothes that might fit you for now, and you can make me a list of
what you need and we’ll get you fixed up.”
 
Lucy got out and walked toward the house.
 
Alex followed her inside.
 

“Nice place.
 
You renting it by yourself?”

“Oh, no, I own this
place.
 
I bought it when I got here
some fifty years ago.”
 
Lucy kicked
her shoes off and started for the kitchen where she ground some coffee beans
and got a pot started.

Alex sat at the small
kitchen table.
 
The house had an
open feel to it, and she wondered what the upstairs looked like.
 
“Fifteen years ago? You’re kidding me.
 
You’re not a day over 25 by my guess.”

Lucy got some cups down from
the cabinet and leaned back against the counter, shaking her head.
 
“No, not fifteen.
 
Fifty.
 
You may as well suspend your disbelief,
as that’s probably the least surprising thing I have to tell you.”
 

Alex laughed.
 
“This has to be some joke that someone at
The Ruby set up.
 
We can stop
playing games here.
 
Let me
guess—they decided to have some fun with me since I’ve gotten way too
wrapped up in the whole vampire fiction and film stuff.”
 
She walked toward Lucy and put one hand
on the counter on either side of her hips, pinning her in.
 
“I have to admit that whatever you put
on your arm earlier was delicious, but I don’t buy this vampire act at all.”
She felt pulled toward Lucy, her body heat palpable as Alex leaned in
close.
 
She thought maybe if she
butched it up, it might crack Lucy’s veneer and she’d fess up.
 
But standing here, she felt dominated by
the desire to put her mouth on Lucy’s, to run her fingernails over the tender
skin on her back.

Lucy threw her head back and
laughed, making her neck and shoulder all the more tempting to Alex. “Oh,
honey, I’m not a vampire.
 
I’m a
donor.
 
You’re the only vampire here
at the moment.”

Alex’s ears started buzzing
as Lucy talked, and she felt her knees go wobbly. She leaned into Lucy to keep
from hitting the floor.
 
She still
didn’t believe it, but she couldn’t explain what had happened or how this could
all just be a joke.
 
She felt Lucy
shift against her, and she managed to steady herself against the counter,
breaking contact for a moment.
 

“You’re weak from not
feeding properly; newly turned vampires are always susceptible to this,
especially if the ones who turn them don’t make sure they feed immediately
after they are turned. Let me drink some coffee, and I’ll prove it to
you.”
 
Lucy motioned toward the table.
 
“Why don’t you sit back down for a bit.
Do you want some coffee, too? It might take some of the edge off.”
 
Alex nodded and took a seat at the
table. Lucy brought two cups over to the table and sat next to her.
 
They sipped coffee in silence for several
minutes, Lucy draining her cup faster than Alex and refilling it.
 
When she came back to the table after
replacing the coffee pot, she had the same kit with her that Alex saw her use
in the morgue.
 
She handed it to
Alex.

“It’s not a prop. Those are
actual scalpels.
 
Try one out on
yourself.”

Alex opened the case and
picked up one of the scalpels.
 
“These are clean?”

“Yes, all except for the one
I used earlier, which as you can see still has a blood dried on it. I sterilize
them and I only use them on myself.
 
You don’t have any illnesses--you’re incapable of illnesses that would
harm me anyway.”
 
She lit a
cigarette.
 
“Go ahead.
 
You’ll find it a bit entertaining, I
suspect, once you get over the alarm.”

Alex pressed the cold blade
to her arm and put just enough pressure on it to break the skin.
 
The blade was razor sharp, so it didn’t
take much.
 
Blood slowly beaded at
the site of the cut.
 
It didn’t
hurt, but she felt her heart race when she saw the blood well up, this time in
excitement rather than fear. “Ok, so they are real.
 
I’m not entertained, really.”

“Oh, just wait.”

As they sat, Alex watched as
the blood beads seemed to evaporate and the cut disappeared.
 
She looked at Lucy.

“Try a deeper cut; it’s more
dramatic and makes the point better.”
 

Alex shook her head.
 
“This is stupid.”
 

Lucy took the case back from
Alex.
 
“Here, just trust me.”
 
She took the scalpel and made a deeper
cut.
 
Again, Alex didn’t feel pain,
just an opening up of her skin. The amount of blood was significant this time and
panic rose up in her throat.
 
The
blood welled up more quickly due to the deepness of the cut, but by the time
Lucy’s cigarette was done, there was no evidence of the wound at all.
 
The blood seeped back into the opening
and the cut closed itself completely.

“You are pretty impervious
to injury.
 
There are things that
can hurt you, but you’re safe here.”
 
Lucy took a clean scalpel from the case.
 
She drew it across her own forearm.
 
Her own blood rose faster and the cut
was deep enough that the blood flowed rather than merely seeping. As it
threatened to trickle onto the table, Lucy said, “Drink.”

Alex didn’t need to be told
twice. The demonstration had caused her hunger to grow unbearable, and the need
to feed overcame and fears or doubts she still had.
 
She somehow knew, just as she had known
Lucy’s name, that this was the only way to feel better.
 

As she fed, she felt the
same horrible sweetness she remembered feeling with Wren.
 
Lucy’s blood spread through her mouth
and down her throat like bourbon, warm, fiery.
 
Her eyes were closed, and she was
transported back to the bedroom, where Wren held her close, pressing Alex’s
face to the bend of her neck, where blood beaded up under Alex’s lips and she’d
had her first taste—barely a taste, but just enough.
 
She remembered hearing the sound of
Olivia’s voice as she slipped out of consciousness.

She felt Lucy’s free hand
stroking her hair and Olivia’s voice changed to Lucy’s.
 
“That’s all I can spare at the
moment.
 
Alex?” Lucy’s hand moved to
her forehead and she applied pressure to remove her mouth from the wound while
pulling her other arm away from Alex’s mouth.

Chapter
Four

Even though she sensed that
Alex had seen or remembered something while feeding, Lucy knew to let Alex
guide the conversation.
 
She found letting
the newly awakened take the lead worked best. Alex was also a special case;
she’d been groomed. Zofia and the others had been careful to find a list of the
students in Olivia’s class, hoping to find her target before she got to them.
They’d never expected Olivia to go after Wren, though.
 
She knew as soon as she got Alex settled
that she and Zofia would need to meet and work out what steps to take next.

They sat in silence for a
few minutes, watching the wound in Lucy’s arm vanish.
 
Alex broke the silence. “You look tired
from all of this. I worry that this hurts you.”

Lucy smiled and got them
each more coffee and offered to make her some eggs.
 
“I know I need to eat something.
 
You can eat, as well—it won’t do
you a lot of good nutritionally, but having food is comforting, especially for
the newly turned.
 
It’s familiar.”

She busied herself with
scrambling eggs and making toast for the two of them, giving Alex some time
with her thoughts.
 
They ate in
silence, Lucy taking the main share of the food while Alex picked at her eggs
and toast.
 

When she’d gotten her fill,
she pushed her plate away and lit a cigarette. “So, ask away.
 
We can talk about me, or we can talk
about you.
 
Either way, we’ll get to
it all eventually.”
 
Lucy freshened
their coffee cups and waited for Alex to decide what she wanted to know
first.
 
She also went to the
cupboard over the coffee pot and brought out a bottle of brandy.
 

Alex drained the coffee from
her cup and poured in some of the amber liquid.
 
She thought for a moment and finally
picked a starting question.
 
“So,
you said you’re a donor.
 
Yet, your
cut healed really quickly.
 
Explain
that.”

Lucy nodded.
 
“The healing happens because you’re a
vampire and your saliva actually seals the wound.
 
Gross, I know, but that’s my best
answer.
 
Donors and vamps have a
symbiotic relationship.
 
In exchange
for providing you with our blood, we are virtually immortal.
 
We get all of the benefits you gained
when you became a vampire, only to a lesser power.
 
And, we can’t make anyone a vampire, so
there’s that.”
 
She topped off her
own mug with some brandy and lit another cigarette.
 
“And, we don’t partake in the drinking
of blood ourselves, unless we decide to transition.
 
There have been some donors who went a
bit bonkers and when their vamp clients refused to turn them, they tried
turning themselves. That never works out well.”

Lucy knew that without
seeing the fast healing that Alex never would have believed anything.
 
She could tell that even after that
parlor trick and feeding enough to clear her head Alex was still unsure.
 
She would, just like all of the vampires
Lucy had rescued before, have to fully grieve before she could accept her new
existence. It was all part of the process.

Alex wouldn’t believe until
she saw the news and realized that as far as the rest of the world was
concerned, she was dead. Her murder was guaranteed to be the feature story. Lucy
heard some early reports on the television at work before clocking out and
driving Alex home.
 
The morning news
was fairly brief; details would be more likely in the afternoon when kids had
been sent off to school and moms would be sitting at home, eating lunch and
hoping the local newscaster called them for the daily dialing for dollars
game.
 

“Donors can’t die, then?”

“We can; many do. Those who
become tired of living stop serving as donors.
 
They then age normally and die.
 
For instance, I am still the age I was
when I became a donor; if I stopped being a donor, I would age and lose my
resistance to disease and injury.
 
I’d return to being normal, mortal. At my age, I would fade quite
quickly.”

 
“You mentioned that you bought this house
some 50 years ago.
 
That would have
been in the 1960s.
 
How old are
you?”

Lucy smiled.
 
“If you ask my surname, you’ll find a
surprise, I’m sure.
 
Allow me to
properly introduce myself.
 
My name
is Lucy West, but you’ll know me better as Lucy Westenra.”

Alex burst out
laughing.
 
“Yeah, right, and I’m the
Duchess of York.”
 

 
Lucy smiled again.
 
“It’s ok if you don’t believe me;
eventually you will.”

“You’re basically asking me
to believe that the novel
Dracula
is based in fact.”

Lucy shrugged. “It is.
 
Whether you choose to believe it or not
doesn’t change that it is based in fact.”

“But you died in the book.
You became a vampire yourself.”

Lucy shook her head.
 
“That part isn’t true.
 
Stoker wasn’t completely honest, nor was
Van Helsing.”
 
She saw Alex’s
eyebrows shoot up.
 
“Yes, Van
Helsing was real as well.
 
Stoker
was merely a ghost writer; Van Helsing was the true author.
 
He used the novel in an attempt to alert
others of vampires’ existence.
 
Parts
of my story in the novel are true and accurate.
 
For instance, the transfusions
happened.
 
Van Helsing didn’t
understand how I could be fed upon and not die.
 
He feared I was made vampire.
 
He did not, however, as you can see, cut
off my head and stuff it with garlic.”
 
Lucy laughed, and Alex did too a little. “And, I never fed on
children.
 
I did, however, fall in
love with the Count and would seek him out at night. So, I was not a helpless
victim.”

She paused.
 
“Donors are given the option to become
vampires.
 
We very rarely choose to
transition, although some do, especially those who fall deeply in love with
those who turn them. Vampires all have a strong attraction, which I’m sure you’ll
find works to your advantage.
 
There
are some vampires who, either by ignorance or through malice, don’t give their
victims a choice and turn them unawares. That’s what I suspect happened with
you.
 
Whether it was malice or
ignorance is a toss up, although I’m going to go with the ignorance option
because Wren was caught.”

Alex sipped her brandy and
considered her next question.
 
“So,
if I’m a vampire, how come I can be in daylight?”

“That’s an easy one.
 
The whole night-time only sizzle in the
sun thing is a myth.
 
Stalking prey
in the dark is simply easier than in broad daylight, especially in rural areas
or on country estates. In a city like New Orleans or New York, it’s incredibly
easy to hunt in the light of day.
 
But,
it’s less lonely in a way to separate yourself from normal people, I think.
Being a night stalker allows for that sort of separation. A lot of vamps choose
to hunt at night, as it’s far easier to feed on tourists and the like.
 
Things haven’t changed much in that
regard, but especially for those who have relationships with donors, there are
options. As long as you are well-nourished you will tolerate sunlight just as
well as you did before.”

Alex lit a cigarette.
 
“OK, say that I buy your story
here.
 
Why didn’t the novel talk
about donors, then?
 
Wouldn’t the
advantages of being a donor be seen as a great thing?”

“Absolutely.
 
And that’s why Van Helsing lied in his
story to Stoker.
 
Times were
different then; they truly feared for me and for my soul.
 
The idea that I was exchanging my autonomy
for immortality was too close to selling my soul to them.
 
And, Van Helsing also had other motives
for spinning things in his favor.
 
How else would he have stayed so easily employed as a hunter?
 
And, there’s also the other he left
alive besides me.”

“Mina?” Alex asked.

“No, although we’ll get to
her some other time.
 
In the book,
remember there are the three weird sisters?
 
One of them made it out of the lair
alive. And she’s in New Orleans.”

Alex thought back to her
last memory of Wren’s blood on her lips.
 
“Surely you’re not going to say that Wren is the one?”

Lucy shook her head.
 
“No, Wren is likely a protégé of hers,
though.
 
I believe you know her as
Olivia Holmwood.”

“This just gets better and
better,” said Alex. “So, she was one of the weird sisters?”

“Yes. She was more than
that, though—she is Dracula’s daughter.”

Alex replenished her brandy.
“And you know this how, exactly?”

“Van Helsing may have spun
the truth to Stoker, but he trusted me as a confidant, as did Mina.
 
I was useful to him, as I knew more
about the Count than anyone else.
 
Van Helsing was the first to theorize that the Count had an actual
biological daughter, not a progeny created through vampirism.
 
This was unheard of, as vampire women
are typically sterile. Olivia’s mother was never turned, however; she was a
donor.
 
The Count told me of how I
reminded him of his late wife, a woman who chose not to be turned. A woman who
loved him so much that she sacrificed herself to give him a child. She died in
childbirth.”
  

“When it came my time to
choose to become a vampire or simply stay a donor, part of the reason I chose
to stay a donor was because of the love he had for his wife.
 
He loved her so much because he knew she
truly lived for him. If he stopped feeding from her she would have been forced
to either age and die or to be unfaithful and seek help from another
vampire.
 
Had she chosen to be
turned, she could have had complete autonomy.” Lucy looked a bit wistful.
 
“Neither of them knew what to expect
when she became pregnant.
 
I’m sure
if they had known she would die in childbirth that they would have chosen
turning over death.”

Lucy smiled in a sad way. “Even
still, I didn’t wish to be turned.
 
He respected my wishes and eventually we parted ways. It was my fate not
to marry him. But, I do still feel that being a donor is a calling for me; the
years since have shown me that being a donor is part of my identity.”

Alex stared at her for a few
minutes; it was unbelievable--all of it--yet she knew it was true.
 
“You said something about the carriage
house being mine to use.
 
I think I
need some time to think about what you’ve told me so far.
 
Would you mind if I made myself at home
there?”

Lucy grabbed a set of keys
off the hook next to the kitchen door that led out into the courtyard.
 
“Follow me.”