Fishing in Brains for an Eye with Teeth (Thirteen Tales of Terror) (14 page)

“I have something for you.”  He held out the two gift bags.

“Adam!  I told you no gifts!”  She looked at him with a worried expression and he knew he did exactly the right thing when he denied his urge to buy her some expensive jewelry.

“It’s not a gift.  It’s a small token of my affection.”  His smile was every bit as intense as his gaze.

She opened the heavier little sack first, pulling out the book.  She gasped, then actually squealed when she saw it was
Poems Before Congress
, by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.  Adam told her, “It’s a first edition.”

“I don’t believe it!”  She clutched the book like it was already dear to her.  “This is so sweet of you!  It must have cost a fortune.”

He shrugged.  “Not really.  It’s certainly not as expensive as the diamond necklace I would have liked to have bought you.”

She looked at him with awe.  “You really
are
rich, aren’t you?”

He smiled.  “I told you I was.”

She shook her head.  “This is unbelievable.  Things like this
never
happen to me.”

“Look in the other sack.”

She dug past the tissue paper and, when she saw what was inside, she laughed.  “Brownies!  I should have known!”

He grinned.  “Do I know you or do I know you?”

“You certainly know what I like.”  She dropped the brownies back into their sack.  “Did you make them yourself?”

“Of course,” he lied.  In truth, Byron made them.  Adam had never created anything in a kitchen except bloody disasters.

“Come on in,” she invited and he followed her into her abode.

He couldn’t truthfully say he liked her pedestrian house but he could say, “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

“Thanks.”  She beamed again at him, then gushed, “I can’t get over it.”

“What?”

“You said you were handsome but
Good God
!”  She laughed.  “You’re
gorgeous
!”

He nodded, holding up his hands as if to say,
I told you so
.

“I want to put these brownies away.  Can I get you anything?  I know you don’t drink but I’ve got sodas, ice tea, bottled water.”

“No, thank you.”  He knew from talking to her online that Rachel enjoyed red wine.  “But feel free to have a glass of Merlot if you want.”

She gave him an uncertain look. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

"Okay.  Make yourself at home."  She clutched both gift bags to her bountiful chest.  "And thank you again for the presents."

“You’re most welcome.”

She started to leave, then looked back. “You sure I can’t get you anything?”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.  I’ll be right back.”

When she left him alone in the living room, he began to look around.  The living room was exactly as he imagined it would be; sweet, feminine, tiny.  She had very little furniture and what she did have, didn’t match.  On an end table, in addition to a stack of
Oprah
magazines, there was a Nancy Drew book that surely belonged to the brat.  One wall behind the sagging couch was devoted entirely to pictures of Deborah.  Adam walked over and looked at the little girl’s life, from her nearly nude baby picture, to grinning pictures where she was missing teeth, right up through a laughing photograph taken at her last (seventh) birthday party. 

He muttered to himself, “Pretty eyes.  Like her mother’s.”

With his preternatural senses, Adam could hear Rachel in the kitchen.  He smiled when she said to herself, “Oh my God, girl! I think you just hit the jackpot!”  He could smell the wine the moment she opened the bottle.  He could also smell her sweat, despite the fact she was wearing Secret deodorant and Red perfume.

Knowing she was nervous took the edge off his nervousness.  Now that he was with her, now that he was inside her home, Adam felt completely in command of the situation.  And yet there remained a wound-up spring of tension that wouldn’t be released until he read her mind.

He was extremely eager to uncover her deepest, darkest secrets.

He smiled, knowing her greatest sins would be trivial.  She lied to someone, maybe hurt someone she loved (probably Deborah). 

Maybe she stole something during a time of desperation. 

Maybe she liked kinky sex.

Whatever it was she felt most guilty about, he would soon know it.

And once he did, once he
knew
she was virgin in the only sense that mattered to him, only then would he be free to love her completely.

Only then would he be free to
corrupt
her.

He reminded himself, “These things take time.”  He promised himself he would go slow.  They must talk first, for hours, and he will see the Rachel she
wants
him to see.  He will charm her.  He will dazzle her.  He will be vigilant for that look in her eyes when she regards him with trust and adoration.

Only after he has seen that look of love will he take her into his clutches.

He heard her returning to the living room but pretended he didn’t, giving her time to check out his butt.  After a few minutes, she told him, “Okay.  I’m back.”

He turned around, his hands clasped in front of him. 

She sat her glass of wine on an end table, nearly knocking it over in the process.  She barely prevented the spill.

He smiled.  “There’s no need to be nervous, darling.”

She avoided eye contact.  “I can’t help it.”

“I promise I won’t bite.”  His smile broadened.  “Not yet, anyway.”

She looked at him suddenly and said, “So, would you like the grand tour?”

“Please.”

“This will take all of about two minutes.”  Rachel led him down a short hallway, showing him first the bathroom, then Deborah’s room, then her bedroom.

In her bedroom, he gave her a lusty look which caused her to blush again and again he nearly lost his mind.  He imagined ravaging her, pushing her back on the bed, ripping off her clothes, sinking a part of himself into her.  The intensity of the fantasy left him breathless.

Rachel also seemed a bit breathless and quickly led him out of her boudoir.

As he followed her down the hall, he looked at the back of her neck and struggled to gain control of his passion.

When they entered the kitchen, both of them were completely unprepared for what happened next.

Adam looked up from her neck and saw the sign above the stove which read, GOD BLESS THIS KITCHEN.

Beneath that sign was another which read,  AND GOD HELP THE COOK!

Beneath that was a silver crucifix.

Rachel told Adam she was raised a Catholic but she’d also told him she hadn’t been to church in a decade.  He never
dreamed
she would have a religious icon in her home!

He realized the sign was meant as a joke but he also knew Rachel
did
believe in the power of the cross.

Adam’s pupils flared up bright red.  He recoiled, throwing up his arms, turning away from the repellent talisman, howling in pain.  This wasn’t a hiss or a human cry.  The wail that erupted from his throat was that of a wounded wolf.

He turned left, his hands raised by the right side of his face, blocking his view.  He shuddered violently and, in an instant, all his fingernails become three-inch talons.

That was when Rachel screamed.

He located her by her shriek.  Without chancing a look, he seized her by the arm and drug her from the kitchen, back into the safety of the living room, away from that cursed crucifix.

Adam finally looked at her and saw exactly what he hoped he wouldn’t.

Rachel was terrified of him.

Everything had been going so smoothly.

Now, it was all going to hell.

“No,” he moaned, terribly disappointed.  “It’s too early for that.  You were supposed to look at me with
love
first,
then
fear.”

Rachel tried hard to pull free of him, couldn’t even budge him, and screamed again.

“Damn.”

Adam pulled her close to him, grabbing her by the sides of her head.  She screamed even louder and he did enjoy the sound and scent of her terror.  “Don’t worry,” he assured both himself and her.  “We may have gotten off to a bad start, but it’s not too late to salvage the evening.”

He opened his mouth and caused his fangs to grow.  As he did, all his zeal, all his desire for her, all his
bloodlust
burst free.  And then he
did
lose control, surrendering to the terrible hunger.

Adam plunged his fangs into Rachel’s neck.

The blood brought euphoria.  For him, this was ecstasy.  Her red juices didn’t just sate his physical appetite; it also nurtured his wicked soul.  It instilled in him a blasphemous pleasure undreamt of by mortals.

It also allowed him to read her mind.

Adam plunged into her memories and sucked them up.

He was shocked to his core by what he discovered.

Yes, Rachel’s first husband beat her, but she lied about how often.  It wasn’t three times, it was more like thirty.  Finally, she reached a breaking point after her drunken sweetheart broke her nose, again, for the third time, and then he raped her.  After he fell asleep, Rachel went and loaded his gun, a 9 mm pistol.  Then she woke him up.  Still drunk, he became immediately angry at her when he saw she had his gun.  He tried to take the pistol away from her.

That’s when she shot him in the face.

Later she claimed he said he was going to kill her.  She said she
believed
he was going to kill her and, without thinking, she acted in self-defense. 

The truth, however, was she thought about it for nearly an hour before she consciously woke her husband up and waited specifically until he was lunging at her so she could blow his brains out.

Adam couldn’t believe it!

Rachel— sweet, domestic, innocent Rachel— she got away with murder!

No wonder her poetry was so dark!

He had only barely begun to drink, he hadn’t even taken a half pint of her blood yet, but he suddenly pulled his fangs out of her neck.

Holding her head in his hands, he looked at her like she was a traitor.  He couldn’t
believe
this! 

This was
disaster
!

He couldn’t corrupt her!   He couldn’t turn her into a killer!  She had already taken human life!

He raged, “YOU’RE NOT A VIRGIN!”

Tears spilled down her face.  Blood oozed down her neck.  Rachel looked at him with terrified eyes and muttered, “You’re a vampire.”

That was how the Blood worked.  The Nosferatu and his victim shared minds. 

She knew he had no picture to offer online because he couldn’t be photographed.

She knew he couldn’t talk to her on the phone because his voice couldn’t be electronically reproduced.

She knew he wouldn’t be here, right now, if she hadn’t willingly invited him (repeatedly) into her home.

Rachel knew Adam meant to make her his consort, to bring her into the Blood, to make
her
a vampire if he found her deserving.

She also knew she had been found unworthy.

Her head still in his hands, Rachel glared at him.  Knowing she was going to die suddenly made her furious.  Rachel shouted, “DO IT!”

Adam’s rage exploded.  Roaring like the inhuman monster he was, he acted without thinking, squeezing his hands together.

Rachel’s head shattered between his crashing palms like an overripe gourd.  Blood, brains, and bone flew in every direction, drenching him, spraying the walls, splattering the ceiling, raining to the floor.  Part of blonde’s scalp dangled from one of Adam’s talons.

The vampire plopped some of the mortal’s brains into his mouth, sucked the blood off them, and then spat them out.

He then picked up Rachel’s corpse and drank from the top, flipping her body upside down, the way a man would turn up a beer bottle.

When his fury was spent and his thirst was slaked, he cast her remains aside.

Adam wept.   

He wandered into the living room, where he stopped to gaze at the pictures of Rachel’s little girl.

Thinking about the grief he had just caused the child brightened his mood a little.

He wiped away his blood tears.

Looking at Deborah’s birthday picture, seeing the child laughing, he wondered how much she was like her mother.

He wondered if Deborah had the soul of a poet.

If so, and if she could maintain her innocence, perhaps Adam would visit her in twenty or thirty years.

Despite that hope for the future, he still felt very much alone. 

When he left Rachel’s house and got into the back of his limousine, he was covered with gore.  Byron looked back at him and said, “I’m so sorry it didn’t go well.”

Looking down at his drenched clothes, Adam sighed.

Byron asked, “Shall we hit the streets, sir?  Ball State University is in this town, you know.  It’s where David Letterman went to school.”

Adam rolled his eyes.  “You and your late night TV.”

Byron cheerfully suggested, “Stalking some college girls might do you some good.”

“No.”  Adam slipped off his shoes and kicked back, sucking some of Rachel’s blood off the cuff of his sleeve.  “I think I’ll just head home and see who’s online.”

THE END

zzz  System Failure zzz

The younglings looked at the automabot with saucer-sized eyes filled with horror and fear.  The robozoid that they knew as Ralph was an old-time pre-apocalypse model of servopure government technology.  This servo was a classic, famous for its manufacturer’s warranty good for a cool two million years.  The children in the daycare pod had just watched with growing unease as Ralph spent the last fifteen minutes crossing ten feet of space.  The humanoid automabot was using a vacubroom to lean on, giving its shuffle-feet hobble a third leg to be awkward with.

“Where are you going?” asked Kaleesha Kaye.

“
What
!?”  Ralph barked back.

“Where are you going?” asked Kaleesha again.

“To the bathroom,” said Ralph, totally freaking out the children.