Mysterical-E

He Said, She Says

It’s In Your Blood
by Pamela Turner

Why had Anna let Emily drag her to a midnight Goth party in Eastern Cemetery?

Emily walked through the dark graveyard as if blessed with cat’s eyes, unhampered even by her long pleather skirt, ruffled blouse, burgundy frock coat, and Doc Martens.

Anna, on the other hand, struggled to keep up in a long crushed velvet skirt and black platform boots with spiked high heels.

Emily claimed Goth citizenship. Anna carried a green card.

“Hurry up, Anna!”

Waving her hand in acknowledgment, Anna hobbled toward Emily. Unused to the new footwear, her calves and ankles ached. Not to mention the situation left her uneasy. Eastern’s haunted reputation attracted not only Goths and ghost hunters but vandals who decapitated stone statues and knocked over headstones. Police patrolled the cemetery on a regular basis. What if an officer stopped and asked them to explain their presence? She trusted Emily had a ready excuse.

The recent disappearance of two fellow university students also concerned Anna. Rumors abounded a serial killer hung around campus. Self-appointed vigilantes vowed to beat in the culprit’s head with baseball bats once they caught him. Anna tried not to imagine herself corpse fodder for the local nightly news.

She would not let fear keep her from enjoying herself tonight. Ever since leaving home, Anna had wanted to become someone other than the shy obedient daughter dominated by a strict father. The Goth students inspired her with their corsets and leather, piercings and tattoos. One day, while in the computer lab, she heard violins and flutes emanating from Emily’s earphones.
Curious Anna approached her and received her first taste of Darkwave.

They became friends, even though it seemed an incongruous pairing. Beautiful, sophisticated Emily with her shoulder-length blonde hair streaked with blue highlights and green eyes rimmed with kohl. Next to her, Anna’s brown hair, cut in a shapeless bob, and uneven skin tone made her a target for one of those ambush makeover shows.
Emily inducted Anna into the Goth world. She introduced her to bands like Unto Ashes, Voltaire, and Mephisto Walz. She loaned Anna books on the Goth subculture, including fashion and music. And she invited Anna to this midnight party.

Now Emily squeezed Anna’s arm, her touch cool. “Excited?”

“Nervous,” Anna admitted.

“It can be scary,” Emily acknowledged, releasing her.

“If Father knew about this, he’d have a fit.”

Emily gave an impatient huff. “Your family sounds awful.”

“Which is why I don’t talk about them.” Anna bristled a little at Emily’s judgmental call, more because she spoke the truth.

This time Emily put her arm around Anna’s shoulder and drew her close. “Don’t worry. Tonight is going to be a special one for you. I can feel it.”

Anna smiled. Emily’s confidence emboldened her. Could she transform from Wanda Wallflower into Sophisticated Susanna?

The stone chapel loomed ahead, austere, silent and dark. An iron-spiked gate barred the front entrance, secured by a chain and padlock. Someone had broken out two stain-glassed panels above the doorway.

They walked around to the side entrance and Emily squeezed through the gap between the gate and door. Anna followed, grumbling at how her heels sunk in the uneven muddy ground.

After a couple of pushes against the metal door, it screeched open, revealing a dark interior. Anna blinked until her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Too bad she hadn’t brought a flashlight.

“Where is everyone?” Anna whispered. If Emily intended to play a practical joke on her, now would be the time.

They continued on into what Anna assumed to be an office. Someone had yanked open the desk drawers, scattered torn cemetery records over the cement floor, and overturned the vinyl and metal chair.

The sound of clinking glasses echoed throughout the chapel.

Emily said something behind her.

Anna asked Emily to repeat herself. Silence. Irritated, she turned and stared, words falling silent and unused out of her slack mouth.
Emily had vanished.

No. She couldn’t have disappeared. Nor had she time to return the way they’d come in. People didn’t evaporate into proverbial thin air, no matter how convincing illusionists made it seem.

Shaken, Anna started toward the exit.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder.

Anna yelped and spun.

First Emily disappearing and now this.

The man studied Anna, his face intense, if not quite handsome. Dark brown, almost black eyes contrasted with shoulder-length white hair tied back with a black cord. He wore a gray suit and held a cut crystal glass of dark red wine.

The stranger bowed. “Welcome. You must be Susanna. Emily told me about you. I’m Nathan.”
He spoke in a cultured baritone suitable for radio. He lifted the back of Anna’s hand to his lips, his touch, like Emily’s, also cool.

“Anna’s fine.” She gestured about the empty room. “Emily brought me here but it seems she ditched me. If you don’t mind, I’ll see myself out.”

“I would hate for you to come here and not enjoy yourself even a little.” He gestured for Anna to follow him.

They entered a large circular chamber where funeral services probably had taken place. Sconces held candles which emitted harsh light, their tapered shadows flickering on the walls. Graffiti messages warned trespassers to stay away. Closed doors led to unknown rooms, perhaps places where the living could mourn in private.

No one seemed to be grieving tonight. Beautiful women dazzling in sequined gowns and men resplendent in tuxedos glided around the room. Lilting laughter and the clink of glasses counterpointed with the string quartet playing a Chopin waltz.

Not Goth and definitely out of Anna’s social class. But if her presence annoyed anyone, no one seemed to care. Dancers swept past without a glance in her direction.

Spellbound by the glamour and beauty, Anna swayed in time to the music, the melody entrancing her with its lush violins and cellos. Despite Anna’s earlier complaints, her boots no longer seemed cumbersome. Caught up in the music, she waltzed with an invisible partner in her small space, heedless of the passing of time.

A warm laugh behind Anna interrupted her reverie. She turned to see Nathan offering her a glass of what looked like tomato juice. A Bloody Mary?
“You must be thirsty after that.”

Anna took the glass. “After what?”

“Ah.” He gave her a knowing look. “The music. Quite enchanting, isn’t it?”

Heat rose in Anna’s cheeks and spread over her body, prickling her skin. She traced beads of perspiration from her hairline. How long had she been dancing? She looked around but the dancers continued waltzing and ignoring her.

Oh, God. She probably looked like a fool. Without thinking, she gulped down the drink. Maybe the alcohol would calm her.

Perhaps if she hadn’t been preoccupied, she might have noticed the coppery taste right away. No tomato juice tasted like that, even when mixed with vodka.

Her stomach clenched. Blood. She’d drunk blood.

Sickened, Anna hurled the glass to the cement floor. Crystal shattered, spraying shards.

Anna’s sight blurred and she closed her eyes. Images of young men and women played across her mind like a silent slide show.

Suddenly her heart caught in her throat at the last two visions. The missing students! Their bodies lay in an abandoned warehouse, throats slit.

Anna’s stomach churned. Had she drunk their blood?

Repulsed, she threw her hands to her mouth to wipe away the blood. Shaking her head, she backed against a wall. Despite the room’s expanse, the air seemed stifling, rank with decay.

It took Anna a moment to notice the music had stopped and the dancers had disappeared. Instead of the scents of perfume and aftershave, dank air seeped into her lungs.

“What a waste.” Nathan glanced at the broken glass. “Good blood is hard to obtain.”

“You didn’t have to kill them.” Anna glared at Nathan, daring him to challenge her assumption.
If he wanted to play vampire, fine. She’d never had any desire to. Aside from reading Dracula for an English assignment, the world of bloodsuckers meant nothing to her.

Anna chewed on her lower lip. Emily had known. She’d dragged her here under false pretenses. Damn it. When Anna saw her again...

“Why do you assume I killed anyone?” Nathan asked.

“Where are the dancers?” Anna gestured around the empty room. “What’s going on?”
“The dancers and music aren’t necessary anymore.” Nathan removed a handkerchief from his pocket and gathered glass shards into the cloth. He tossed the bundle into a pail in a corner.

“If the party’s over, I should leave.” Anna started for the exit but Nathan grabbed her arm and pulled her around.

He raised a warning finger at Anna’s impending protest. “Not advisable.”

Anna tried to jerk free. “Let me go or I’ll call the police.”

“And explain why you’re breaking and entering?” He released Anna’s arm. “You really don’t understand what’s happening, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

Nathan looked past her for several minutes, his expression pensive. “There are humans who are vampires but their true natures are hidden so deeply they never realize who they are. Emily is sensitive. She’s able to find these people and bring them to us. If they survive the blood tasting, they become transformed.”

Anna glanced at the droplets glistening on the cement floor. “And the ones who don’t survive?”

Nathan gave her a direct look. “They die and their blood is used in the next ritual.” He paused. “Sadly, not everyone can survive the physical and psychological changes. That you have is a good sign. I’d almost given up on finding another.”

Anna’s knees sagged and she gripped the wall behind her, palms flat against the plaster. A vampire? Her? “You’re wrong.” Her voice choked. “Emily’s wrong.” Had Emily only befriended her for that reason? “Those students...”

“Proved to be incapable of surviving the change.” Nathan seemed unperturbed about their deaths. “They wanted to become vampires. But desire isn’t enough.”

“I never said I wanted to be a vampire.”

He gave Anna a long-suffering look. “You really don’t have much say about it. But there is one other thing. Follow me.”

Despite misgivings, Anna obeyed. If nothing else, perhaps she would get an answer to the question of why her?

Nathan passed through a door into an alcove. They descended the stairs to a sub-basement. If the air smelled stale upstairs, it reeked with the odor of graveyard dirt and dank cold stone down here.

A young man sat in a chair on a cement dais. Thick ropes bound his arms and legs. A strip of duct tape sealed his mouth. His eyes widened as he watched them, and Anna saw his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed.

Nathan pulled a small dagger from the inside pocket of his suit coat. He handed it to her.

“Kill him and drink his blood.”

“What?” The knife slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor. “I won’t murder!”

Nathan quirked an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

Anna glared at him. “You’re sick.” Bile rose in her throat.

“And you are in denial.” Nathan retrieved the weapon. “Let me make this clear, either you kill him and drink his blood or you die before sunrise.”

“I thought vampires were immortal,” Anna challenged.

He gave her a withering look and she stepped back, her attempt at defiance failing miserably. “Only after they kill and take another’s blood while their victim is dying. That way, they absorb their prey’s life force. The glass of blood was only to see if you could withstand the transformation.”

“Then I won’t be a vampire.” Anna gave him a triumphant look.

“Do you think you can choose?” Nathan pressed the dagger into Anna’s palm and curled her fingers around it. For a brief second, she debated stabbing him. But if he knew about vampires, it was probably best to keep him alive and unharmed.

“What do you mean?” Anna’s fingers tightened around the handle.

“Once it starts, the process is irreversible.”

Irritation spiraled through her. “Maybe you should have asked me if I wanted to become a vampire.”

“Do you think you have a choice?” Nathan shook his head. “Have you ever wondered why your father treated you the way he did?”

She sank to the dais. “How do you know?”

“Emily’s told me. She’s read your mind, seen images of your past. And I’ve done research on your family.”

“Go on.” Great. Now he admitted to being a type of stalker. Damn Emily for convincing her to come tonight.

“Your father’s ancestor was a vampire, staked by the villagers before being burned.”

Anna folded her arms across her chest. “You have proof?” Her mouth tasted of sand. She licked dry lips. A drink. She needed a glass of water.

“I’ve read the historical accounts of the village. It wasn’t difficult to find the vampire’s descendants.”

“And I suppose the village was in Transylvania.”

“France, actually.”

Anna’s eyes widened. Father had traced their ancestry to the Bordeaux region. What else did Nathan know? Hopefully nothing about her Uncle Edward, a brother Father refused to talk about. Supposedly Edward had decapitated a young woman and drunk her blood. The jury found him guilty but insane and he now resided in a psychiatric hospital.

Did vampirism run in her family?

Nathan gestured to the young man who watched their verbal volley. “You’ve read Oedipus Rex?” Anna nodded. “Then I don’t need to warn you what happens at the end.”

Anna swallowed, heart hammering against ribs, the sound loud in her ears. Fear, anticipation, and disbelief rolled over her.

Nathan headed toward the exit. “Remember, if you don’t kill him and drink his blood before sunrise, you’ll die.” He disappeared around the corner.

Anna turned and her gaze fell on the young man’s pale neck. She licked parched lips and her stomach tightened with anticipation at the sight of his carotid artery.

A sudden urge to watch blood spray from that vessel and fall into her dry mouth overcame Anna and she pressed a hand to her chest, sickened at this rising bloodlust.

She wouldn’t kill. She hadn’t inherited any vampire curse, murderous ancestors notwithstanding.

She closed her eyes, intent on pushing aside the horrible desire stirring within her.

A shattered glass and drops of blood rose in her memory.

The young man made a strangled sound behind his gag. For a second, Anna debated freeing him and running away or just running away.

But she couldn’t leave. What if Nathan was right? What if by failing to kill the young man, she died instead? Even worse than vampirism, death terrified her, Father’s sermons of fire and brimstone etched forever on her mind. Perhaps in her desire to rebel against her father’s strict upbringing, she’d succeeded in sealing her damnation.

Anna looked at her potential victim again. Jeans with holes in the knees, dirty sneakers, and a faded Jimi Hendrix T-shirt. A nondescript young male in his early twenties. Probably a homeless drifter who wouldn’t be missed.

If she depersonalized him, maybe that would make killing easier.

No! Furious at these insidious thoughts, she hurled the blade across the room. It clanged against the stone wall before dropping to the floor with a rattle that echoed in the small chamber.

He watched her. Anna sensed his fear, smelled the blood and adrenaline rushing through his veins. A coppery scent with a hint of iron.

Her teeth ached and Anna pricked her finger on the tip of a canine. A fang? How quickly did the transformation take place?

Anna reached for the knife. Advancing toward him, she shook her head, wiping her eyes with her shirt sleeve. “You stupid idiot,” she chided. “Letting yourself be caught like this.”

She started to saw through the thick braided rope. If she freed him and he ran away, he’d take the temptation with him.

“Either you kill him and drink his blood or you’ll die before sunrise.” Nathan’s words echoed in Anna’s mind.

The young man or her. If their roles were reversed would he show her mercy?

No, Anna’s mind insisted. Humans chose self-preservation, survival. A part of her understood she was transforming from Jekyll into Hyde but she couldn’t stop.

As if controlled by an unseen hand, she slashed the young man’s throat, the silver blade dripping crimson.

Anna fell against him and began to drink, blood running down her mouth and chin. What fears, self doubts, and morals she had were overcome by her depraved desire and she no longer cared. Her prey gurgled his death throes. After several minutes, Anna pulled back, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.

The scraping of shoes against the concrete heightened her flight or fight response and she turned.
Nathan appeared in the doorway. His eyes locked with hers and she couldn’t look away. It was as if he’d lifted the sash to the window of her soul to peer inside.

“You were right.”

Nathan nodded. He took the knife and slipped it back into his pocket. “I’ve made it my life’s work to study vampires.”

“Where’s Emily?”

“She’s asleep until I need her again.”

Foreboding filled Anna, tracing icy fingers down her spine. “Where?”

Nathan shrugged. “In her grave.”

“She’s dead?” Anna’s stomach roiled and she pressed a hand against her mouth to stave off dry heaves.

“Yes.” A flicker of pain crossed Nathan’s face. “It was your ancestor’s fault. That bastard murdered my daughter. But I vowed to avenge her and the other victims.” He gestured to the floor above them. “Those dancers. Surely you understand now.”

Realization jabbed Anna in the solar plexus, a one-two punch. She doubled over, sickened by the truth.

The dancers were the ghosts of her ancestor’s victims, perhaps even her uncle’s. Now she would be killed for being a vampire, a fate she never chose.

“It wasn’t my fault!” New tears flowed down Anna’s cheeks and she glanced at the limp body of the young man. “You gave me the blood. It’s your fault!”

Nathan shook his head. “Your ancestor cursed his descendants, however unwittingly. It would only be a matter of time before you discovered the truth. Like your uncle, you would have killed someone eventually. It’s in your blood.” This time he pushed aside his jacket and reached behind him to pull out a revolver. Face impassive, he fired at point blank range at her.

Anna’s body jerked as bullets tore through her stomach and chest. White hot pain seared her flesh, burned through muscle and tissue.

Nathan replaced the gun. “Normally, bullets would have no effect. But those were dipped in poison. They won’t kill you but will significantly weaken you.”

Clutching her stomach, Anna winced against the pain. A chill enveloped her body and tightened around her like iron bands. She tried to move but couldn’t. The bullets had paralyzed her.

Nathan pulled a wooden stake from his pocket. Did he carry garlic and a crucifix too? “I vowed to hunt you all down and kill you, even if it took centuries.”
He took Anna’s chin in his hand and tilted her face to meet his. Gently he wiped away her tears with his finger. The Grim Reaper’s one act of mercy. Over his shoulder, Anna saw the soft pinkish-gray of an early morning sky through the small barred window.

Closing her eyes, she laughed, a harsh bitter sound choked with saliva and fear.

She never felt the stake pierce her heart.

-----

Bio:

Pamela Turner drinks too much coffee and wishes she could write perfect first drafts. Writings include reviews, articles, poetry, screenplays, plays, and short fiction. Her 10-minute play “Brides of Deceit” was part of a local performance and “Cemetery” placed second in The Writers Place short/teleplay screenplay competition. Publications include “A Girl Like Alice” (Taproot Literary Review), Death Sword (Lyrical Press) and “Family Heirloom” (Scared – Ten Tales of Horror anthology). She’s a member of RWA, Sisters in Crime, and a supporting member of HWA. Beside coffee, she likes cats, chess, cemeteries, and photography. You can find her at http://pamelaturner.net