The Blind Vampire Hunter (11 page)

“And the blood?”

“His. It seems he fell on his blade during
the fight. She told me the police had to be called, as well as an
ambulance. It was one of those rough nights she sometimes has. It’s
not the first time she has come home with blood on her clothes. Oh,
EMS told her the knife wielder will be alright after some rest, a
transfusion, and then it’s off to jail for that creep.”

I don’t think I have ever heard my sweet Di
call anyone a “creep” before. Just didn’t seem right somehow.

At church, many said how they missed me last
Sunday, as I was in Texas at the convention. The convention did
provide a unification service last Sunday morning, or you could
just sleep in before the first meeting that Sunday afternoon. A
unification service just seemed too strange to me so I decided to
sleep in. For now, Reverend Bob gave a sermon on the Prodigal Son
that got me wondering if he was preaching to me for not being
present at church the week before.
Had anyone mentioned to him
about the convention I was attending?
Now I’m just being
silly.

I was reminded of something that happened
during my high school years. During a youth Saturday morning
outing, I broke my arm, but good. The doctor made the mistake of
using the “S” (surgery) word. After it took three nurses and two
doctors to hold me and calm me down, the doctor decided he would
only set and cast my arm, not surgically pin it. “Now, you go home
and stay in bed for three days. You don’t get out of bed for any
reason, and move that arm as little as possible,” the doctor
ordered very seriously. Doing as he said, Sunday morning I was in
bed listening to the Sunday service on the radio, when the preacher
got up to give the sermon and announced, “I don’t think I can do
the sermon this morning. Young Jack Poisner, who is always sitting
in the second row every Sunday, is not here with his ever-present
smiling face, as he is home with a broken arm.” Of course, he did
give his sermon. When I got back to school, I was really surprised
how many and, in some cases, who had heard my name on the radio. My
mind almost screamed,
Jack, the sermon.
Right, enough, no
more with the mind wandering as Reverend Bob went on with his
sermonizing on the Prodigal Son.

That evening I got to finally meet our
boarder for the first time. As Di and I were sitting in the living
room playing with baby Elaine, I heard the creak of Isabella
Báthory opening the front door.
One of these days we really have
got to do something about that door.

I listened to her coming into the room.
Did the room just get colder?
I heard Di announce,
“Isabella, you’re looking better than you did this morning.”

“Yes, a good day’s sleep does wonders for
me,” Isabella answered.

My mind screamed,
My god! Was that from
the beautiful Isabella Báthory, with the voice of an angel, that I
had been hearing about?
That voice. That incredible voice. That
gravel-filled voice sounded as if it came right out of hell
itself.

Chapter
Seven

Best Bud, Eric

It was all I could do to keep from cringing
at the sound of that voice from hell. I must have heard wrong. I
must have. All the raving
from Di wishing to get Isabella into
the church choir because of her angelic voice and she sounds like
that. Something is not right.

Getting up from my seat to properly meet the
new element within the family, I said, “Hi, I’m Jack.” Since I was
about to meet a woman for the first time, I was not sure whether I
should put my hand out or not, so I just casually put it between
us, giving her the option of taking my hand or not taking my hand
to be shaken in greeting.

The room did get colder as the voice from
hell said, “Hi Jack, I’m Isabella Báthory.” There was an uneasy
silence. She broke it with a screech that almost destroyed my
hearing with its pure ugliness, “YOU’RE BLIND.”

I wanted to respond very violently with an ax
to her head. It wasn’t because of her “blind” comment, for it was a
comment not a question, and I have heard it many times before. I
suddenly had this feeling of sudden rage. It was like something I
felt once when I was in college. It was the first day of classes,
and I was taking public transportation to my college in D.C.
Halfway there, the bus stopped to pick up this guy that was your
stereotypical hippie from the headband, to the psychedelic vest
over an undershirt, right down to his sandals. Seeing him, I had a
sudden urge to get out of my seat and pummel this guy into a large,
bloody pile. Like to freak me out. I have nothing against hippies
or this stranger, so the whole thing took me by surprise. The next
day we picked up this hippie, and again, I wanted to tear him to
shreds. At least, this time I knew why. He was wearing the same
outfit as the day before, except he was also wearing a black
upside-down cross necklace—he was a Satan worshipper. My soul
sensed it, but it was my body that reacted. The feeling I felt with
this boarder was déjà vu to my senses.

I heard her rush out of the room
.
There was a definitive chill in the air as she rushed past me,
leaving the screen door to slam shut behind her. The graveyard
chill of many deaths in the air left with her. I stood there with
my skin trying to crawl for cover, totally confused and
bewildered.

I looked in the direction of Di and in my
confusion asked, “What happened?”

She just answered, dreamily, “She must have
had to rush off to work. What a shame. Is not her voice just so
angelic? It’s a shame I can’t talk her into becoming a part of the
church choir.”

My incredulousness over what she had said and
what had just happened must have shown on my face and was
misconstrued by Diana as she added, “Yes, I know, she works
Saturday nights and is not able to attend church. What a
shame.”

I remembered from my Bible studies that Satan
was, and most likely is still, a very beautiful angel in
appearance, presumably with a very angelic voice. I tended to agree
that the voice I heard was from an angel alright—an angel kicked
out of heaven—an angel from hell.

I heard Di go back to playing with Elaine,
and I got to wondering how that horrid voice could sound so
extremely beautiful to Di and sound so horribly painful to me.
Could Di be so blind to what is living in our home? ... Or is she
living? ...
Blind
. “Di, did you not mention to our boarder
that I am blind?”

“Now that you mention it, I guess it just
never came up,” Diana answered. She continued, “I think of you as
my loving husband, not as my blind husband. I guess it just never
occurred to me to mention it to her.”

She continued, “She must have been running
late for the bus, to have rushed out the way she did. Usually we
have a little time to talk before she runs off to work”

It also just occurred to me that the room got
back to being warm again. Could the room temperature really have
changed while this boarder was in the room or was that just my
imagination? RIGHT. Like I imagined that painful voice, that voice
that Di keeps harping about being so lovely.

Just then I heard the screen door open again.
Is she returning for some reason? It will be interesting to see
if the room temperature changes again.
I made a point of
feeling for a change in the room temperature as the approaching
footsteps entered into the living room from outside.
The room
temperature is not changing.

“Hey, Jack, it’s Eric, man. So how was your
trip?

Getting up to put out a hand, I returned the
greeting, “Eric, my man, how’s it hanging?”

“Jack, watch what you say in front of the
baby,” Diana corrected.

“I can’t. I’m blind.” Old joke, but I
couldn’t pass it up.

Looking back in Eric’s direction, I
continued, “The trip was great, but tiring ...”

“You did not seem so tired in the bedroom
after you got back,” Diana quipped.

Faking shock, I answered jokingly, “Honey,
watch what you are saying in from of the baby.”

After we all laughed that one off, the
conversation got back to my trip. When I mentioned the incident
with the wheelchairs, Eric said, “Some things never change. When I
got back from ‘Nam with my shattered arm in a cast, I was greeted
at the airport with a wheelchair. With all of my luggage and only
the use of one arm, I took them up on it.”

Changing the subject, I asked Eric, “So what
do you think of our new boarder?”

“Man, you are one lucky stiff. No way would
my wife trust me with a babe like that in the same house. No way
man. Have you seen the knockers on her?”

“Eric!” Diana demanded,

“Yeah, I know, not in front of the baby,”
Eric answered.

“No, not in front of
me
.” We laughed
all over again.

“Di, you have nothing to be concerned about
in that area,” I put in while still laughing.

“So you have met her, our new boarder?” I
asked Eric.

“Yep, you might have noticed, I was not
allowed to come over to see my bud until after my wife saw her
leave for work. Hey, did she seem to leave here in a hurry?”

“Jack thinks she might have been disturbed at
finding out that he’s blind,” Diana put in.

“Well, maybe she had not had much experience
around blind folk where she comes from. Maybe it took her totally
by surprise. I take it, Diana, that you didn’t think to mention it
to her?”

“No, I did not,” Dianna answered
pointedly.

Getting back to my original question, I asked
again, “So Eric, what do you think of her, besides her knockers, I
mean?”

Diana interrupted, “Guys, if you keep up the
talk about the knockers, I’M LEAVING.”

“I think she’s impressive. To have come all
the way over here from Central Europe to make a life for herself,
basically alone. That takes spunk. Strange though, you know my
fascination with vampires and vampire lore, hell, all things
vampire. Well, with her being from Romania, known as the old
Transylvania territory of Dracula, I tried several times to talk to
her about her home grounds and vampires, but she changed the
subject on me ... every time. She’s made it very clear that this is
not something she wants to talk about. I do think it even stranger,
that when she mentioned her job at the theatre, I asked if she
would get me in for free if I came down. She literally begged me
not to come down to the theatre. She said it would be too
dangerous. When I mentioned my two tours of duty in ‘Nam she still
insisted I never come down to her place of business. She again said
the area is too dangerous.”

“She made it a part of our agreement that we
would never go down to her place of employment, because it could be
too dangerous to do so. You do know she’s a Master of Kung Fu and
has even won tournaments with her fighting ability,” Diana reminded
us.

“You know what? In the news there has been a
rash of murders down in her area lately. But when isn’t someone
getting iced down in D.C.?” I added.

Eventually Eric headed back to his wife and
baby boy. He made an interesting comment once about my baby girl
and his baby boy, “You know, when my little boy grows up, all I
have to worry about is my one boy, but when your little girl grows
up you will have to worry about
all the boy
s.”

We put baby Elaine to bed and soon went to
bed ourselves. I had trouble getting to sleep that night, and it
was not because of my sleep apnea.

The next morning, by the time I had gotten
up, our live-in Auntie, Chris, informed me that Isabella Báthory
had already gotten home and was in bed for the day. It was just
another day in the life of the Poisners. That evening when Diana
came home, I asked her to call me upstairs from the family room
when her dear Isabella woke so Isabella and I could get to know
each other better.

Eventually Di called me up for dinner and as
I sat down, I asked, “So when does Isabella get up? Isn’t it about
that time?”

“Oh, she’s gone already,” Diana calmly,
matter-of-factually answered. “She’s already off to work.”

Trying to keep my cool, I asked, “So why
didn’t you call me so I could talk with Isabella?”

“She said she did not have the time and would
have to rush to work.” Then dinner was served, and nothing more was
said about our boarder. Nothing more was said
out loud.
Inwardly I fumed over Diana’s failure to do as I asked. I fumed
over Isabella succeeding in avoiding me. All this fuming only added
gas to a burning house.

Chapter
Eight

The Fire

Whoop, whoop, whoop.

What the hell, ... the smoke detector.

Whoop, whoop, whoop.

Diana must be burning dinner again. Wait a
minute. I hit the button on my watch. “The time is three-o-nine
p.m.,” the female voice of
my watch announced. It’s too
early for Di to be fixing dinner. Shit, could the house be on
fire?

Whoop, whoop, whoop.

Jumping out of my lounge chair and ignoring
the news, I rushed carefully around the family room couch and made
my way as fast, but as carefully as possible. Finding the stairway,
I rushed up the stairs to find Diana coming out of the kitchen.
Seeing me, she yelled, “There’s a fire in the kitchen.”

Whoop, whoop, whoop. The smoke detector was
sounding in the hallway leading to the stairway down to the family
room. I was standing practically right under the smoke detector,
and it was even louder now.

Looking into the service square, a square
cut in the kitchen wall to allow passing of food from the kitchen
to dining area, I could see both flames and smoke very alive in the
kitchen. Time to bail.

Knowing the baby was taking a nap in her
room, “Di, where is Chris?”