Dead Girls Don't Cry (3 page)

The winding, unpaved road leading to my side of the lake was deserted. The humans around me were tucked in their beds, asleep. Rocks pinged the Jeep’s undercarriage. Dust filled the air. It hadn’t rained in a while so everything was dry. I didn’t fear many things, but fire was one of them. Vampires and open flames don’t mix.

I shifted into park and could hear giggling from the opened windows. Then the tell-tale squeak of bedsprings getting a workout. My hand hovered over the horn. I imagined the loud clarion startling them both and possibly ending their fun.

I couldn’t do it. I’d rather swim in the lake than listen to Jay complain that I was cramping his social life. Somehow he managed to see to my needs, study for a Ph.D. and date other humans. Who was I to begrudge him his fun?

Lacking any close neighbors to shock, I dropped my clothes on the gritty shore-line and waded into the cool water until I was up to my neck. I flipped over onto my back and floated. Weightless in the water, it was like flying. A dream of mine since I was a child – soaring in the air, hovering above the world like a superhero.

One of the many advantages of my undead state – I didn’t have to fear death by falling (though I’m terrified of heights anyway). Extreme heat and cold didn’t bother me. And I didn’t need to breathe. Since I couldn’t really fly, swimming was the next best thing.

The mattress creaking intensified. When the fuck bunnies started moaning and calling each other dirty names, I sank underwater. The water closed around me like a dark, chilly glove. There is only so much I can stand. The sad truth, I haven’t been in a relationship in a long time. Like half a century. I could have had a ton of empty sex if I wanted to, but I wasn’t raised with those values.

When I touched the bottom, I slid my hands over the slime covered rocks and sifted the sand through my fingers. Lord knows what the fish thought of the pale-skinned monster sharing their domain.

After what I felt like was enough time for post-coital cuddling, I slogged out of the water. A fisherman in a canoe floated in the center of the lake, casting his line. I doubt he could see me. Human eyesight was weak. Not that I cared too much. I did take off my clothes for a living. But the lake association didn’t know and I wanted to keep it that way. Staying under the radar and following the rules kept humans out of my business.

I gathered my clothes and whistled a signal to Jay –
I’m coming in, get her ass out the door
. I knew Jay heard me because I could hear him ushering his guest into her garments.

After empty promises of the,
I’ll call you soon variety
, she departed and I finally entered my house.

“Thanks Cherry,” Jay said patting down sweaty and mussed hair. A wine red hue suffused his dark complexion. “Can I fix you something to eat?”

“No thank you.” He knew damn well I didn’t need to eat human food to survive. I waltzed into my bedroom, dried my hair, then dressed in clean clothes.

Afterwards, I re-joined Jay in the living room/dining room/kitchen area. The house, a cottage really, was pretty small and we had one common area. With two bedrooms and two bathrooms, we made the space work. The vampire-thrall bond ensured we never seriously got on each other’s nerves. At least not long term.

Jay was a neat freak. My habits left him with plenty to do. I suspected he enjoyed nagging at me to pick up my dirty clothes. And he hadn’t tried to kill me in my sleep. Not for over a century now.

Jay scooted over and moved his textbooks so I could join him on our comfy and well-worn couch.

“How’re the classes coming?” I asked, flicking on the morning news.

“Fine. Are you planning on sleeping today?”

I detected a note of frustration. Uh oh. We were about to have a “conversation” about me.

“Yeah, eventually,” I hedged. I suppressed a yawn behind my hand. “I’m not tired yet.”

“Bullshit.” Jay snapped off the TV. “You’re having those dreams again aren’t you? And you’re afraid to fall asleep.”

That’s my buddy. He cuts right to the chase. I snatched the remote. The TV clicked back to life. “No.” I lied. Lately, whenever I slept, I dreamt of dark caverns and red earth. Voices spoke in a strange language. The words hammered at me. Insistent, as though I needed to know something. Worse, I failed to comprehend the dream’s message. I always woke up out of sorts and couldn’t fall back to sleep.

And Jay knew it. He ran his fingers through the waves of his dark hair. “Don’t make me force you to rest.”

“Jay, come on…” A vampire had most of the power in a relationship with a thrall. Jay was my servant, bodyguard, and companion. If I needed to feed, he brought me blood, human or vamp. He took care of the mundane business required for me to live among humans, like securing identities, money and shelter. In the old days, when I was new and weak, he guarded my resting place from those who could do me harm.

In return, Jay was granted superior strength, eternal youth (as long as he took blood from me occasionally) and a comfortable lifestyle. He also had an advantage over me. He could force me to sleep and eat. This ensured I didn’t turn into a bloodsucking fiend due to extreme hunger or fatigue.

Jay leaned over and pulled me into his arms. He spoke softly to me in Hindi, the language we spoke together in our youth. “I will watch over you. You have nothing to fear. Sleep.”

And I did.

~ * * * ~

I woke to the alarm radio’s blare of commercials, touting the latest in … breathable cotton underpants? Late afternoon sun filtered through the bedroom window’s lace curtains. They had yellowed with age, but I refused to part with them. The left panel, neat stitches and a balanced design of flowers and birds, was created by my sisters Faith and Grace. The right side panel’s messier design and looser threads – clearly my handiwork.

A ragged tear marred the bottom corner, courtesy of my baby brother Edmund by way of bayonet. He had “borrowed” one of Father’s old muskets and put it to use stabbing bedding and other linens. His nurse had been furious when she caught him. A small sad smile formed on my lips. God, I still missed them so much.

The few worldly possessions I had managed to carry into my undead life were all I had to remind me of them.

I rolled out of bed. Four o’clock p.m. Plenty of time to make it to work.

After another shower, what can I say, I like to smell nice, I padded out to the living room. “Jay? You here?”

I found a note on the table.

C-

In classes until later afternoon. Will see you at Club.

J

p.s. – Jonathan noticed you didn’t feed from him last night. Stop putting it off.

I poured a glass of orange juice, then sat down at the vintage, red Formica table. Vampires can drink whatever we want. Our bodies can absorb any liquid. We ate solid food for pretense, but it had to be purged later. Don’t ask how.

One thing we couldn’t live without was blood from our own kind. I had been delaying my feeding from Jonathan.

We both knew why.

I have vampire daddy issues. Not only did I hate having to rely on him for my survival, but I despised my body’s craving for comfort. When feeding from my sire, I felt safe, protected. For vampires it’s a biological directive:
feed and enjoy it so much you come back for more
. I couldn’t move past the circumstances that led me to my undead life.

Tonight. After the show. I’d feed.

I sipped my juice while I perused the newspaper. Nothing exciting there. The usual stories: political corruption, murder, the Astros got spanked again. Humanity hasn’t changed much. The wealthy still run the political scene, humans still kill each other for stupid reasons, and baseball is America’s past time.

While gathering the paper for recycling, I grabbed Jay’s note to add to the pile. He had written it on the back of a battered red flyer. I flipped it over.

The Undead Space Initiative? I read the text twice.

Wanted: Adventurous individuals, fearless self-starters and hard workers. Mouth breathers need not apply for this opportunity to settle Mars. Join The Undead Space Initiative. Spots are filling fast. Don’t wait!

There was a website, a toll free number and an address. It had to be a joke. I crumpled the flyer and tossed it in the recycle bin with the newspaper.

Who in their right mind would want to go to Mars? As if such a thing was even possible.

Putting the ridiculous notion out of my mind, I packed a bag for work and headed back to Austin for another fun-filled night of the bump and grind.

No alleys and no stopping to help strangers this time. No matter how gorgeous.

CHAPTER TWO

“God damn it, Charity!” Jonathan yelled at me as soon I entered the building. He used my real name. Not good. “Where have you been? Lemmy tells me there are reports of revenants in the area.”

Lemmy, our evening doorman, winced at Jonathan’s shrill statement. Lemmy gave me an apologetic look, then quietly shut the back door and returned to the alley outside, exiting the area, like any sensible person would do.

Perhaps now was not a good time to mention my near encounter with true death. “Were you worried about me, Sire? I’m touched.” Jonathan’s sharp frown and narrowed eyes told me I had best shut up. “I didn’t think you cared.”

Jonathan seized me by the back of the neck like a bad puppy and dragged me down to his office. The door slammed, rattling the frame so hard it threatened to pop the hinges. I really needed to keep my fool mouth shut.

“Do not sass me, child.” Jonathan released me. Worry lines creased his brow. His fists were balled at his sides. His eyes glowed red, as though hellfire burned inside his skull.

I bared my throat. “My blood is your blood.” A show of respect and deference. Something I almost never did. “I’m sorry, Sire.”

His shoulders relaxed, the red light faded from his eyes, but his hands remained clenched. I wasn’t out of the woods yet.

There was a long pause before he finally spoke. “I made you a promise a long time ago. I will always keep you safe. On my honor. ”

“I remember.” How could I forget the absolute worst moment of my life? Even now, over a hundred years later, it still hurt. The loss of my human family.

“Cherry?” Jonathan placed his hands on my shoulders. “Come. Take what you need from me.” He drew me close, my lips a hair’s breadth from his throat.

His honey-scented skin comforted me, even though I wanted to shove him away. “Not the throat.” Too intimate. I didn’t want the safety of Jonathan’s embrace.

“Fine,” he sighed. He bit the veins in his wrist then extended his arm toward me.

Two drops of blood beaded around the punctures, beckoning me. I studied Jonathan’s face. His black hair was unbound and hung loosely on his shoulders. To a human, he wouldn’t look older than thirty-five. I knew for a fact he was twenty when he became a vampire. Life was a lot harsher back in his day.

My stomach knotted. My fangs elongated at the sight of what my body craved. I resisted for a moment longer, then the heady fragrance of his blood reached my nostrils. I latched onto his wrist and sucked with hard, greedy pulls. The blood flowed so quickly, I nearly choked myself.

“You always wait too long,” Jonathan grumbled.

Every cell in my body sang with joy. In addition to quelling the hunger, his blood soothed, like a promise everything would be okay. Tears leaked from my eyes. I chided myself. False euphoria. Not real. Not to be trusted.

When Jonathan reached over to pat my shoulder, I snarled at him and twisted away. Again, he sighed, disappointed this time. “Cherry, it’s time for you to stop—”

I dropped his wrist. “No!” Tremors shook my hands. “Don’t tell me it’s time to move on. We both know what happened.”

“You’re right,” he said. Darkness hung over his face. Our tangled past lingered in the air between us like a physical presence.

“Stop. We are
not
doing this right now.” I escaped from the room before he could order me back.

I didn’t go to my dressing room. Jonathan would search for me there first. Instead, I headed to the backstage storage room, where the band kept their equipment.

My throat was tight as I circled around the small room. A single light bulb provided weak light, plenty for me to see and not knock into instruments. I used to love music once. Singing in particular. My father called me “God’s little angel” on account of my voice. He claimed I came out of the womb singing. I doubt that, but I do remember starting at a young age.

My mother balked at first. She was more puritanical and felt it wasn’t proper for a lady of my station to sing at all, let alone publicly. My father compromised and allowed me to sing hymns at our private mass.

When my parents weren’t around, I sang whatever I felt like. I learned new songs whenever and wherever I could. From the Irish housemaid, the African washerwoman and, later, when my parents became missionaries, songs from the countries we visited. I wasn’t alone in the singing conspiracy. I recruited my younger sisters and brother until we could have been a traveling show.

Surprisingly, my parents never caught us. They were too busy promoting Christianity and raising money from their elite social circle for their next mission. We were basically seen and not heard.

I blame my pride and my voice for what happened. My voice attracted the angel of death. Eventually guilt closed my throat for good. I haven’t been able to sing a note since. Not even “Happy Birthday” at parties. I can’t do it. When I try to sing my throat tightens and I can’t get the air.

“Cherry!” Jay barged in, my costume billowing in his arms. “Get dressed. You’re on in five.”

Thankfully, he didn’t ask why I was in the music room. He didn’t need to. Jay understood me better than anyone. I changed out of my street clothes as fast as I could. Jay didn’t help matters, wrestling the costume’s bodice onto my torso before I had fully unclothed. I batted him away.

“Come on, hurry up.” He shifted from foot to foot.

“Help me with this strap, it's twisted.” Once we untangled my costume, he yanked me by the hand and dragged me along. Stilettos were not meant for power walking, making it a bumpy trip.

“Jay! What’s happening?” I pulled backward, but he continued the forward march.

“Boss says we have an important visitor in the crowd. Be awesome.” He pushed me onto the stage.

As the red velvet cloth started to rise I asked, “Who?”

“Queen V.” He gave me two thumbs up and stepped back into the wings.

Son of a biscuit.

~ * * * ~

Jonathan deserved a kick in the nuts. He should have warned me. Blood pounded in my ears like the surf, making it hard to hear the orchestra.

Queen Victoria was in the audience. The Vampire Queen.

Why?

I snuck glances into the crowd trying to figure out where she was. I even danced dangerously close to the edge of the stage attempting to see past the stage lights. After almost landing in Morton’s skeevy lap, I stopped trying. On my final promenade, I twisted, dropped my top and turned to face the crowd. A familiar blond head sat behind Morton.

Ian McDevitt. Lovely. For a moment, a niggle of shame swept through me. Damn him. There was nothing wrong with what I did. I made good money and took care of Jay.

I wiggled my ass at Ian.

Morton leaned forward in his seat, right arm pumping back and forth, his hand hidden under a newspaper draped over his lap. The masturbating creep probably thought the display was for him. Anger colored the last few steps of my routine. I stomped my heels so hard, I worried they might break.

The music reached a crescendo. The big finale approached. I slid into my final position, legs slightly crossed, one foot in front of the other, arms overhead in a V and my hips tilted to the side.

The spotlight burned down on me. The crowd erupted in applause, then went stone silent. The audience, moving as a single body, bowed to a lone figure gliding down the left aisle.

She could have easily been mistaken for a child. Her doll-like frame was small and delicate. Raven black curls outlined her heart-shaped face. Her ambient power buckled my knees. She had to be thousands of years old. There had never been another queen, as far as I knew, other than Victoria.

The queen brought her dainty hands together and clapped. “Bravo, my dear!”

I curtseyed deeply. When I rose, the queen was before me on the stage, her movements so swift even the air didn’t have time to move.

Before I could bow again, her hand, cold as marble, grip hard as steel, clasped my wrist. “Once was sufficient, my dear.”

I averted my eyes. She was the queen. Power thickened the air, weighing on me like a heavy blanket. Even in a sold out theatre, her presence commanded total silence. For all purposes, we were only the only two people in the room.

“I have a gift for you.”

My lips parted in surprise. Before I could stop, words spilled out, “You do? Why?”

Stupid fool mouth.

The queen laughed, “Because I wish it.”

Right. Because she said so. A slight movement over her shoulder caught my eye. Jonathan stepped into the light, his face a calm mask.

“Your sire once granted me the gift of your song. You didn’t know it was me at the time. Perhaps, someday, your voice will return, my dear Nightingale.”

Huh? I had no idea what she was talking about. I never sang as a vampire. I paused, my brain skittered to a stop. That wasn’t true.

A quick glance at Jonathan confirmed it. For a brief moment, before he turned me, I sang freely in his presence. Out from under my parent’s restrictive thumbs, I could be myself. Before everything went to hell. Regret filled his eyes. His lips pulled into a tight line.

Our shared guilt so thick, I was shocked Queen V didn’t feel it too.

“Charity Belmont,” the queen addressed the crowd, holding my wrist as high as her short stature would allow, “I bequeath to you my cuff.” With a single swift motion, a smooth golden bracelet latched onto my left wrist.

“Never give it away. Under any circumstance. Do you understand?” The queen’s voice compelled me to obey.

“Yes, your Majesty.”

A strangled cry erupted in the back. Someone clearly didn’t like the queen’s decision.

The queen arched an eyebrow. “I knew she’d react like this.” In a loud clear voice, Victoria addressed the assembly. “This is my will. No one shall attempt to take this gift from my chosen recipient. To do so is an act of treason.”

The words hung heavy in the air. The undead audience did what they did best: sat there like lifeless corpses. For about ten seconds. Then, a hundred different conversations popped the silence. The babble of noise hurt my ears. The crowd’s reaction was out of proportion with the gift.

What was the big damn deal? It was a plain bangle. The bracelet’s surface was smooth, absent decoration. Unremarkable. Walmart had better costume jewelry.

I fingered the cool metal band and snuck a glance at my sire. Jonathan’s stiff posture froze me in place. Whatever the queen had bestowed on me was probably about to make my life more complicated. Why would anyone think I would be useful? The most taxing thing I did each day, aside from performing, was scheduling acts and monitoring the club’s financial statements.

The queen smiled as if reading my mind. “I have faith in you. All things come to an end in time.
Carpe diem
. Seize the day. Be sure to grab hold of what’s next.”

Before I could say a word or even offer my thanks, the queen was gone. She was there one minute and halfway up the theatre aisle the next. A large retinue detached itself from various posts around the room and followed her out of the door.

I took one last look at the audience. Ian, the only vampire not watching the queen’s departure, fixed his intense gaze solidly on me.

The cuff warmed against my wrist. I stared at it. I tore my gaze off the bangle and searched for Jonathan, who, surprise, surprise, was nowhere in sight. Figures. When I want to speak to him, he’s not around.

The stagehands dropped the curtain in my wake, nodding to me as I passed. I took a robe and tied it tightly around my waist.

“You can’t keep that,” a female voice snarled from behind. God, if this was Pearl having one of her possessive fits, I was going to deck her.

“Excuse me? Pearl, you can just,” I turned expecting to see the pintsized dancer, “kiss my –”

The words died in my throat. I bowed my head at the angry vampire. “Princess Thalia. I’m so sorry.”

“Give the cuff to me.” Thalia’s dark eyes gleamed in the dim light. Her angular face was a bit too long and sharp, containing none of her mother’s fair beauty. “She only gave it to you to punish me.” A pale pink tongue darted out and swept across the tight line of her lips. Tremors shook her fingers, while she fidgeted. Movements of a junkie looking for a fix. Or of a liar. She extended her trembling hand, “I don’t have all day.”

Blunt and no manners. I bristled, angling my left arm behind my back. “The queen’s orders were very clear. The bracelet is mine.”

“Petulant whore. Hand it over.” Thalia lunged forward.

I easily evaded her. Unbidden, words escaped my lips. In Victoria’s voice, I said, “Treason, my daughter. Do not try my patience further. Return to me now.”

Thalia’s eyes narrowed into slits, a cruel leer painted on her lips. She opened her mouth, then clamped it shut so hard her teeth clacked. Yowling, like a pissed off alley cat, she turned on one heel and marched away.

I shivered. Goosebumps pimpled my skin. It was just a piece of jewelry. Right?

A pathological pull twisted my gut, insisting I join the queen outside. I raced to the alley door. Others had the same compulsion and I had to push my way past the stage crew and my fellow performers before reaching the street.