A Vampire's Christmas Carol (9 page)

After a few more minutes, he rolled to his
side and looked up at her. No red glow filled his eyes, just sheer
mute agony.

It hurt that she couldn’t do anything to ease
him. Couldn’t even sit with him and hold his hand. It hurt so badly
that she felt it churning away in her stomach.

Then the blue depths were overshadowed as the
red glow flickered to life again. She forced herself to look away
from his eyes, watching the side of his face. He lifted his head to
look at her and rolled over onto hands and knees. After trying and
failing to push himself to his feet, he began to crawl toward her
on hands and knees, making a weird, high, keening moan that finally
resolved into words. “The blood. Fresh, hot blood.”

He moved faster than he had last time, but
fortunately still not with the uncanny speed he’d shown earlier.
She could still dodge him. It made for a bizarre and pathetic
situation, though, as he crawled around the floor, trying to get to
her, and she ducked one way and the other to avoid letting him get
too close.

It felt like it took forever before the
craving that held him in thrall began to recede and he dropped back
onto the floor beside the big desk, waiting to recover some
strength. When he rolled over, the red glow flickered fitfully in
his eyes, but it was fading.

After a minute or two of heavy breathing, he
said, “Drop a cushion on the floor for me?”

She got one from the loveseat and tossed it
to him. He made no attempt to catch it. When it hit the floor
beside him, he grabbed it and set it against the side of the desk.
Pushing up with his right arm, he managed to wedge the cushion
behind him so he could rest his shoulders against it.

“That was bad. Carol… I might not be able to
restrain myself next time.”

“You’re so weak now, you can’t catch me.”

He shook his head. “Don’t depend on it. It
would only take one good burst of energy. I may still have that in
me. Maybe more. Desperation could drive me to more than you might
expect.”

“All right. I hear you. I’m keeping my eyes
open.”

“Good.” His head lolled back against the
pillow as though it took too much energy to keep it upright. “What
time is it?”

“Quarter to six.”

“Not much longer. Fill the time for me. Tell
me about the family you hope to have some day when you finally meet
your fantasy hero.” He barely had strength enough to get the words
out. She didn’t know how anyone could look worse and still be
alive. Little flesh covered his bones. Hollowed-out cheeks made his
face look skeletal and his lids drooped over his eyes as if holding
them open took more energy than he had.

Carol shrugged. “I don’t know what there is
to tell. I’d like to have a few kids, maybe a couple of boys and a
couple of girls. A nice house, a yard with a garden, you know… the
standard things. I’m not really very extraordinary, even if I do
like science fiction and fantasy stories.”

“I suspect you’re much more unusual than you
think,” Michael responded. “Most other women would have already
locked themselves in that room upstairs and barricaded the door. Or
run back to the car to take their chances there. I think there’s a
lot more heroine in you than you realize.”

“I don’t think so. It seems to me adventures
are generally more fun to read about than to live. I wouldn’t
choose it. But what about you? What did you want from life?”

He shrugged, barely and painfully. “Nothing
out of the ordinary. Family. Friends. Success in my job. Thought
about maybe going into politics eventually, but I don’t really
know.”

“Why politics?”

“I saw so many things that were wrong with
the government that I wanted to fix. So many injustices. I thought
I might be able to get elected and do something to right them. You
think some of the laws we have now are bad. You should have seen
what it was like in 1900.”

“And you wanted to— Oh, drat.” She spotted
the mist first time this time because it was just a couple of feet
from her.

“This is just so sweet,” Antoine said as soon
as he’d fully coalesced. “I’m almost in tears.”

“Don’t waste the effort,” Michael told
him.

Antoine shook his head. “You’re looking bad,
Michael. Seriously bad. Hey, look at me, guy. It doesn’t have to be
this way.”

Michael refused to look him in the eye,
keeping his gaze focused on Antoine’s chest. “Yes, it does. This is
how I want it.”

“It’s almost six. Sunrise in an hour and a
half. You really think you can hold on that long? I don’t think so.
You’re in bad shape now,
mon galant
.”

A strained smile crossed Michael’s face.
“I’ve held out this long. I can manage another hour and a
half.”

Antoine’s eyes narrowed and took on a
brilliantly red glow. Carol backed away from him and looked down as
he turned toward her. “Even with this succulent invitation standing
here, waiting for you to take her, you stubbornly hold out.” He
drew a deep breath, let it out on a dramatic sigh and turned toward
the other vampire again. “Michael, I’ve underestimated you. It was
a mistake. But there’s still time to right it.”

He moved so fast Carol couldn’t follow. She
had no time to react. Antoine was beside her before she even
realized he wasn’t where he’d been in the previous second. She
hadn’t seen him draw out the knife or pick it up, nor did she see
what he did, exactly. It happened so quickly, her eyes couldn’t
track it.

She only knew he’d injured her when a
violent, burning pain raced along her left arm and she glanced
down. A long slice began two inches below the elbow and ran down to
just above her wrist. He’d cut through her sweater and the skin
below. Blood already stained the edges of the blue knit fabric, and
as she watched, a thin stream emerged from under the edge of it at
her wrist.

Chapter
7

“Shit! What did you do?” Carol screamed,
jumping back away from him. “Crap.” She tucked the arm against her
body, squeezing hard, and brought the stake up.

Antoine glanced at the stake, an amused look
spreading across his features. “Just making it easier for our
friend here.”

He glanced back at Michael. “He’s looking
very pale and bloodless right now. Can you smell it?” he asked.
“Nice, fresh, warm blood.”

He turned back to her. “Don’t you feel sorry
for him? You’ve seen him suffer. You can help him get better. Just
offer your arm. Give him the blood.”

“What did you do?” Michael surged to his
feet, his words sharp and strong. He stared at Carol, eyes widening
at the sight of the blood.

“Just prepared a little snack for you,”
Antoine said. “She’s not badly damaged. And I left her pretty face
alone.”

Quicker than she could blink, Antoine grabbed
the hand on the injured arm and pulled it forward, away from her
chest. He extended it out toward Michael. “Just a small snack.
Enough to get you going again. Then you can go find someone else.
Some lowlife that doesn’t deserve to live.”

“Let go of her,” Michael said, the words
hissing through clenched teeth.

Antoine dropped her arm. “Of course.” A few
drops of her blood smeared the vampire’s hand. He raised it to his
face, sniffed and let a blissful smile curve his mouth. “Prime
vintage,” he said. “Young, healthy female.” His tongue flicked out
and licked at the blood. Eyes closed, he licked again, savoring.
“Oh my, yes.”

He made another move, again too quick for her
to follow, but Michael could and did.

Faster than she could actually see, Michael
was there, pulling Antoine away from her. Michael latched on so
hard that the two vampires overbalanced and pitched to the floor
together. Michael wrapped his hands around the wrist that held the
knife and banged it against the floor until the blade dropped free.
Carol grabbed it before the vampire could get hold of it again. She
stepped back and dropped the knife into a side drawer of the desk.
Meanwhile, Antoine tried to push to his feet, but Michael used his
hold to drag him back down again. The two struggled, Michael trying
to keep him down, Antoine wriggling to break free.

She had no idea where Michael got the
strength to do it and it couldn’t possibly last long, but for the
moment he kept control of Antoine. The two rolled around on floor,
first one, then the other on top. They smashed into the loveseat,
pushing it back into the wall, and an end table. Both it and the
lamp on it crashed to the floor.

Their struggle took them dangerously close to
the fire, but then Antoine twisted, nearly escaping from Michael’s
hold, and they rolled away from it again. Antoine raised a fist and
brought it down toward Michael’s face.

Michael dodged the fist, but he looked
weaker. One of his hands slid off Antoine’s arm and the vampire
pushed back against him. She had to do something. Michael couldn’t
last much longer.

The two moved and rolled until they stopped
in a position where Michael could see her, but Antoine faced the
other way.

She raised the stake. Michael flicked his
eyes in acknowledgement.

She’d only have one shot at this, so she’d
better make it good. She had to trust Michael could hold Antoine
steady long enough.

Raising her arm to bring the stake up as high
as she could, she rushed toward them. At four feet away, she
launched herself forward, bringing her arm down at the same time,
putting every ounce of her strength behind it as she jammed the
stake into Antoine’s back, right over where she hoped his heart
was.

It was the most horrible thing she’d ever
done. She felt the stake hit bone—a rib she assumed. Ignoring the
nasty, crunching feel of it, she jiggled the stake until it slid
past and punched deep into the vampire’s torso.

She waited for him to dissolve or go poof the
way vampires did on television, but Antoine just froze for several
long moments, then gave a small grunt and collapsed onto the floor.
He lay still, chest no longer rising and falling with breath.

Carol backed away a step, staring at the
still figure, struggling with her own breath. “Is he…dead?”

Michael rolled over to look. “For the time
being.”

“’For the…time being’? What does that
mean?”

“As long as the stake’s in him.” He let his
head sink back down to the floor and his breathing sounded harsh,
too rapid and uneven.

She shivered. “Oh. How can we make him dead
dead? I mean, like permanently dead?” A small, remote part of her
brain reacted with shock that she should even think such a
thing.

“Drain him and…let the sun finish him off,”
Michael answered. He was careful not to look at her injured
arm.

“What does that mean?”

“It won’t be easy, and I don’t think—
Hell…another problem.”

“What’s that?”

“Your stake’s in Antoine and we don’t dare
take it out.”

“I don’t— Oh. Ideas?”

He shook his head. For a few minutes, while
he’d defied Antoine, he’d looked more normal, more like he had
earlier when she’d arrived. He seemed even more wasted now, his
body and face fleshless, skeletal.

“Wait,” Carol went to the desk, opened the
top middle drawer and found what she sought. A pencil. A nice,
sharp, wooden pencil. She held it up so Michael could see. “Will
this do?”

“Real wood?”

Carol smelled it. “Yup. Real wood.”

His lips barely pulled into a smile. “Then it
will.”

The clock tolled the hour of six.

“Listen.” Michael’s voice was weaker now,
sounding thready and strained. “Not much time left. You’re going to
have to help me with this.”

“What’s ‘this’?”

“Getting rid of him. And getting me ready for
sunrise.”

She stared at him. Every now and then a
flicker of red showed in his eyes, but he seemed to be holding it
back by sheer force of will.

“What do you need me to do? And what do we do
about him?” She nodded toward Antoine.

“Take him outside.”

“All right.”

Carol went around him to get her coat. By the
time she put it on, Michael had staggered to his feet again. He
looked none too steady, but quite determined.

She grabbed Antoine’s legs and Michael took
his arms. Though Antoine was more than six feet tall and Michael
had the body’s arms stretched out above the head, it still put her
closer to Michael than she felt safe with. Especially when that red
glow still sometimes winked in his eyes. She kept the pencil in her
hand even though it made it harder to carry the dead vampire.

After ten minutes of struggle, they’d dragged
Antoine as far as the kitchen. Michael had to stop twice along the
way, conserving his energy to fight the hunger that doubled him up
in pain. Each time, she heard him swearing softly to himself and
praying for strength.

The back door was off a short hall beyond the
kitchen. When they got there, Michael dropped Antoine’s legs and
reached for the deadbolt to unlock it. Before he laid fingers on
it, though, his hand froze in mid-motion.

Seconds later, he turned and the red glow
shone steadily in his eyes. Intense concentration made his face
fierce when he glanced at her bleeding arm. Lips pulled back to
show his fangs gleaming.

“Shit.” Carol dropped the dead vampire and
backed away. “Michael. Resist it. Remember? You’re not giving
in.”

For the moment, he’d forgotten. The furious
red color filled his eyes and his gaze remained steady on her arm
as he took a couple of steps toward her. An odd, keening growl
poured from him, interspersed with the word “blood”.

Carol kept her eyes on his chin, watching him
advance. She groped for the cross at her throat and held it out.
“Michael, please. You don’t want to drink from me. You want your
soul back. Remember? Remember?”

Backing away, she stumbled and almost went to
her knees, but stuck out a hand and used the wall to steady
herself.