Dark Corner (57 page)

Pearl resumed her healing treatment, which she called
Reiki. Her eyes closed, her face serene yet concentrated, she
slowly moved her hands across Jackson's body, keeping her
palms balanced above his skin. Reiki, she said, was simply a
method of channeling and directing life force energy. In the
absence of high-tech medical equipment and a staff of doctors, it was the most powerful technique at her disposal. As
David watched, he thought about the irony of Jackson's condition. He needed a blood transfusion in the midst of a vampire attack, for God's sake. If they merely took Jackson into
the fray of battle, he was sure the vampires would be willing
to share a little blood.

Not funny, he thought.

Rain rapped against the windows; the storm clouds had
finally begun to shed their burdens. Occasionally a strong
wind buffeted the house, like a punch thrown by a furious
spirit.

How long would it be before the vampires located them?
Surely, they were searching. The fiends would not rest until
they had found them.

He looked away from the window.

Nia rose out of her chair.

"Pearl, can I use your bathroom?" Nia said. "I need to
clean myself up ""

Pearl turned, her hands hovering over Jackson's chest.
"Of course. You will find towels in the cabinet underneath
the sink." Her dark eyes went to David. "Make yourselves at
home, there is some tea I've already brewed in the kitchen,
and food if you are hungry. I will be treating Chief Jackson
for quite some time."

"Thank you," David said. "Jahlil, can I get you anything?"

"No," he said quickly. "I'm staying in here"

That kid is tough, but he's held together with thin wire
right now, David thought. He wished he could do something,
but there was nothing he could do. All he could do was pre pare himself to step in and be a friend for Jahlil, like he had
promised Jackson that he would.

Jackson's features were slack and peaceful. Gone was the
melancholy expression that habitually dragged down the police chief's face, making him look twenty years older. But
David found the man's placid visage disturbing.

He looked like a dead man on display in a coffin.

t Emma Mae's, the party was in high gear.

.After Emma's announcement at the town meeting, people had begun showing up at her place around eight o'clock.
By eleven-thirty, cars and pickup trucks crowded the street,
parked bumper-to-bumper for the entire block. Her house
was full of loud, carefree people who knew how to have fun.
Playing Bid Whist and poker. Eating ribs, chicken, and corn
on the cob. Drinking beer and Hennessy. Telling stories and
talking shit.

The thunderstorm had knocked out the electrical power,
but Emma was prepared for that; candles and kerosene lamps
burned in every room downstairs. She had batteries for the
boom box, so she could play hits nonstop by Bobbie Blue
Bland, Wilson Pickett, and B.B. King. She'd flung up the
garage door and set up the big barbecue grill on the edge of
the garage floor, fragrant smoke blowing into the air as she
served up a seemingly endless supply of ribs and chicken.

No one was going to stop her from partying. Least of all
some vampires. Who believed in those damn things, anyway? She'd believe it when she saw one with her own eyes.

Lillie, of course, believed that nonsense. As Emma stood
at the kitchen counter, brushing her special barbecue sauce
on another steaming slab of ribs, she looked out the window
and saw the glow of Lillie's cigarette as her sister hid behind
the curtain at her home next door. Spying on Emma, as
usual. Emma sneered. If the old heifer was so curious about
what was going on, she should've brought her skinny ass
over here.

You better take Blood to the hospital, you old fool, Lillie
had said after the town meeting. I know you lying about him
having a hangover; I heard that man got bit by one of them
demon dogs ...

Emma had told Lillie that she didn't know what the hell
she was talking about and she needed to mind her own business. But inwardly, she worried. Blood was still asleep. That
man had never slept through a party in his life, but she
couldn't wake him for anything. He would only groan and
shift on the bed. He was running a bit of a fever. She had put
a cold towel on his forehead, to try to break the fever, and it
didn't seem to help. She was really beginning to worry, but
she wasn't going to take him to the hospital so they could
pump him full of drugs and do government experiments on
him like he was some kinda lab rat. She didn't trust the hospital in town, not after what had been said at the meeting.

If Blood wasn't better by morning, she would take him to
a hospital in Southaven. In the meantime, she would continue to check on him every hour. It was, in fact, about time
she looked in on him again.

She finished slathering sauce on the ribs, then placed the
meat in a foil-lined pan. She took the pan to the serving table
in the corner of the kitchen. Elmer Jackson, the police
chief's cousin, and Buster Hodges, the daddy of Junior, the
kid who cut her grass, hunched over the table, piling food on
their plates.

"Where's your boy, Buster?" Emma said. "I ain't seen
him here tonight."

"Don't know where that kid at," Buster said. "Probably
out working. You know that boy ain't happy 'less he working
somewhere ""

"Ain't that the truth," Elmer said. "Boy been saving up to
buy a truck from me. He came by the lot and told me to save
him that black ninety-eight Ford pickup I done had for a few
months. Said he was gonna buy it."

"He ain't gonna buy shit," Buster said. "That boy got pipe
dreams, like his mama did."

"Aww, let the boy have his dreams," Emma said. She set
down the ribs on the table. "He's a sweet kid."

Buster grumbled and stabbed a chicken thigh with his
fork. Emma almost told him that his son wasn't the only one
who'd had a dream once, but she let it go. Buster hated to be
reminded of his pro boxing days. A couple of years ago, at
another of her card parties, Elmer-never one to bite his
tongue-had told Buster that he'd lost a hundred dollars betting on his sorry ass in a fight, and Buster had launched
across the table and knocked Elmer on his tail with his fearsome right hook. Since then, Elmer had avoided coming
within ten feet of Buster.

But look at them now, Emma thought. The men were fellowshipping like true brothers, eating together. It proved that
when things got too heavy to bear, there was nothing like an
old-fashioned house party to set things right. A party was
good for the soul.

She went through the house, smiling to herself. All around
her, folks were having a good time. On the boom box, Wilson
Pickett crooned his signature song, "In the Midnight Hour."

Earl Jones, a card-party regular, jumped up from his
seat at the poker game as Emma walked past. Drunk as a
skunk, he took her hand and twirled her around in a little
dance.

Emma giggled, feeling like a teenager again. That heifer,
Lillie, didn't know what she was missing, staying cooped up
in her house like the crazy old woman in the fairy tale who lived in a giant shoe. The only difference was that Lillie had
that pissy weiner dog, Rex, instead of a bunch of cats.

All the cats are gone outta this town, Lillie had said, earlier. Did you notice that, you old fool? All the cats are gonescared off by those demon dogs!

Lillie and her superstitions. Emma didn't care about some
damn alley cats.

Earl stumbled in the middle of his jig, and Emma helped
him sit down.

"You better sit your tail down and get back to them
cards," she said. "You can't hang with me, baby."

"Don't mean I don't wanna try," Earl said. He flashed a
lusty grin that was highlighted by a shiny gold tooth.

"You better not let Blood hear you say that" She smiled.
"I'm 'bout to bring him down here"

"About time, wake that gimp-legged nigga up," Earl said.
He expertly riffled his cards in his big hands. "I wanna get
him at this table and clean out his pockets"

"You hush," Emma said.

Upstairs, the hallway was dark; Emma had not bothered
to place a candle around the staircase since no one but her
had any business going up there, and she had lived in the
house for so long she could walk around blindfolded. But
the blackness seemed especially thick and warm, shot
through with glints of purple. Just her eyes playing tricks on
her, she figured. But Lillie's superstitions rang through her
mind.

Those vampires are demons, Lillie had said. You believe
in demons, don't you? If you believe in God, you gotta believe in the Devil, too, sister. Demons are the Devil's minions...

"Ain't no such thing," Emma mumbled under her breath.
She opened the door to the master bedroom.

Inside the room, a candle on the nightstand cast flickering
light.

Blood sat on the edge of the bed, head lowered. He was
bare-chested, and wore only his blue pajama bottoms. Curly
gray hairs shone on his thin chest.

"How long you been up, baby?" Emma said. She began to
walk toward him, ready to check his temperature. "Let me
take a look at you"

When Blood raised his head and looked at her, she halted.

An icy finger slid down her spine.

Something was wrong with Blood. The wrongness was in
his dark, red-rimmed eyes. Looking into those eyes of his
was like looking at a rattlesnake.

Instinctively, she broke eye contact.

"Come on over here, brown sugar," he said. His voice was
raspy, but commanding. "I wanna hold your fine body in my
arms"

Blood called her "brown sugar" whenever he wanted to
romance her, but there was nothing flirtatious about his manner, not this time. His jaw was tight. His fingers clenched
and unclenched. He looked like a man who was ready to
rumble, not make love.

What was wrong with him? Had the fever cooked his
brain into stew?

Or was Lillie right?

Emma took a step backward, the floorboard creaking beneath her.

"Where you going, woman?" Blood rose. He moved with
a silkiness that she had never seen from him, as though his
bad leg were a thing of the past. "I want you to come to me"

"What's ... what's wrong with you?" she said. She had to
force out the words, her heart was pounding so hard.

"Ain't a damn thing wrong with me, baby. I ain't never
felt so good in my life." He laughed. "I wanna make you
feel good like I do"

Emma couldn't be sure because of the quivering light and
shadows, but when he had opened his mouth to laugh, she thought she had seen long, sharp teeth. The kind of teeth a
dog would have.

Or a vampire.

Lillie's know-it-all voice played in her mind: I told you
the truth, you old fool. Why don't you ever listen to me?

Blood spread his arms. "Come on over to me, brown
sugar. Lemme make you feel good"

Spinning around to run was so hard for Emma, it was like
trying to move when submerged in water. The air itself
seemed to push against her to keep her from getting out of
there. But she broke out of the room and slammed the door
behind her.

The darkness in the hallway swallowed her. She was careless for not lighting a candle up here.

On the other side of the door, the floorboards groaned.
Blood was coming. There was no way to keep him from getting out. She couldn't lock the door from this side.

But she had a houseful of people who could help her. Big,
strong men like Buster. They could help her handle Blood,
whatever was wrong with him.

She ran across the hall, bumping into things. She flew
down the steps so quickly she nearly tripped over her own
feet.

"Girl, what you running for?" Earl said. Cards in one
hand, he tipped up his glass full of Hennessy, taking a long
gulp. He burped, then chuckled. "You come back looking
for a real man to handle you?"

Emma opened her mouth to speak-and then she saw
movement outside the living room windows.

The curtains were peeled back, giving a view of the front
yard. There was a gang of people out there. Folks with pale,
grimy faces. Dressed in hospital gowns with dark stains across
the front. They moved like wolves on the prowl, hunched over,
muscles tensed and ready to pounce, intent on a single,
deadly objective.

Emma could not believe it. But it was right there in front
of her face.

Her buzz drained out of her like water slipping away in a tub.

"Lock the doors!" Emma cried. "Everybody, we being attacked!"

People gaped at her, their eyes glazed. Like she had stood
up and shouted something in Japanese.

"What the hell you talking 'bout, Emma?" a man said in
a slurred voice. "You just drunk, old gal."

To hell with waiting on these drunk fools, she thought.
She hustled across the living room to lock the front door.

The door exploded open. Emma stumbled backward.
Cold wind and rain swooped inside, and two of those vam-
pirelike things leapt onto the threshold, hissing, their fangs
bared.