Vampire Dreams_Int.indd (2 page)

At least one life would be saved.

6

Christina Moss

The fi nalization of her divorce was signifi cant. It was the end of her stint in hell. But it was an unhappy ending, and it left her feeling empty and defeated.

Even under the thick bathrobe, the cold of the late autumn night made her shiver, so she opened the bottom drawer of her bureau and pulled out her fl annel pajamas. She hadn’t worn them in a long time. She quickly put them on and rewrapped herself in the bathrobe before bending down to slide the drawer shut, but before she closed it she noticed an old blanket. She told herself that she’d have to go through her things and throw away some clutter. The blanket was quickly pulled out and tossed into the corner to remind her to clean out drawers and closets the next day. It gave her something to look forward to — cleaning, a sort of therapy in itself.

She raised her foot to close the drawer and that’s when she spotted it — the large tattered and torn manila envelope that had been sitting underneath the blanket. She inhaled suddenly and with swelled emotion said aloud, “Oh, Alexander! Where have you been?”

Zoe withdrew the envelope before sliding the drawer shut.

She sat down at the edge of her bed clutching the package, and an avalanche of memories returned. How long had it been since she’d dreamed of him? Alexander, her handsome and imaginary guardian vampire.

7

Vampire of My Dreams

She looked into the distance at nothing but memories and squinted in concentration. A smile fl ashed as the vague dreams resurfaced. But the smile quickly faded when she remembered why she had subconsciously invented him in the fi rst place — she needed him in order to get through the unimaginable pain following the tragic events of a fateful birthday eleven years earlier. That was when Zoe fi rst began having vivid dreams of Alexander.

The dreams had begun after her parents had been bru-tally murdered in the very house she continued to live in to that very day. She’d witnessed the violence but had been knocked unconscious before the rampage ended, and woke up in a hospital. It was the day she turned eighteen.

That night and the following day were fi lled with homicide inspectors, medical exams, police interviews, forms to fi ll out and the media assault. She’d arrived back home the next night — alone and broken. After crying for hours she’d fi nally fallen asleep.

That was the fi rst night she dreamed of the vampire. Then she continued to dream of him two, sometimes three times a week. But then the dreams had stopped, and when they did, Alexander had faded from her mind and the only records of Zoe’s conversations with him were written in six journals now tucked away in the large manila envelope she held in her hands. And she hadn’t viewed them since. She’d forgotten all about Alexander — such is the nature of dreams.

8

Christina Moss

It was still early so she stepped into her slippers and with the envelope in hand, she headed downstairs to the living room. After removing the screen from the fi replace, she grabbed some old newspapers that she’d rolled up and tied into knots a few nights before. Zoe tossed eight or ten of them onto the hearth, then placed four logs over them.

She reached up to the mantel and found the box of long matches. After lighting one she held it under the newspaper ends until they fl ared up nicely, and then carefully replaced the screen.

Zoe positioned herself comfortably across the sofa, reached back and pulled the chain to light the lamp on the end table behind her. She looked at the envelope. There was, at fi rst, a fl ash of doubt about venturing into the past, a past even more painful than the present. But a sudden vivid memory of Alexander’s smiling face returned, with his bright eyes, white teeth and two long fangs. He’d always had a big smile and contented look after his feedings. Then, she recalled (unable to suppress her own smile), he only came to her dreams after his feedings, so as not to be tempted to bite her. If nothing else, he was a considerate vampire.

It was with those pleasant memories that she emptied the contents of the envelope onto her lap. The journals were numbered one to six. Zoe picked up the fi rst journal, opened it to page one and began reading.

9

Vampire of My Dreams

† † †

For all the horrifi c darkness that has befal en me these past
forty-eight hours, there was one beacon of light and it shined
on me, of all places, amid the intimacy of a dream.

Last night I had a conversation with Alexander, a vampire. He began as fol ows, “Forgive me for intruding on your
night, but I had to know if you’re okay. Did he hurt you?”

The soft but deep voice was next to me. I rol ed over and
there was a man in my bed. But I wasn’t frightened. Dreams
can be like that.

“Not physically. Is that what you mean?”

“Yes.”

“What’s your name?” I asked him.

After some hesitation, he said, “My name is Alexander.

I’m sorry I didn’t arrive sooner last night. I heard the gun
and rushed in, but by then there was a second shot. I pushed
you out of the way before he fi red off a third. I don’t want you
to worry about him. He’ll never bother you again.”

“What did you do to him?”

Once again he hesitated before answering, “He’s dead.”

“How did you kil him?”

“I’m a vampire.”

“I see.”

10

Christina Moss

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Zoe.”

That was the fi rst time he smiled at me. It was a good
smile. “Do you know what your name means, Zoe?”

“No.”

“It means ‘life’.” He sighed contentedly and then said, “You
should rest. I can stay beside you until just before dawn.” He
was on his back with his hands clasped behind his head and
his ankles crossed.

“Okay. But tel me, what does your name mean?”

“It means ‘protector’. I can smell your tears. You were
crying earlier?”

“Yes.”

“You should sleep now.”

“I’d much rather talk to you.”

“I can tel you’re tired. If you sleep now, I’l return another
time to talk to you if you’d like.”

“Please do. I’m so glad you came.”

“Me, too. Sleep wel little Zoe.”

† † †

Zoe looked at the burning logs, and remembered how Alexander had returned to her dreams two or three times a week, for the next six years.

11

Vampire of My Dreams

Zoe put her journals on the coffee table. Then she got up from the sofa, poked a log into a better position in the fi replace, and went into the kitchen to make herself some tea. She considered all of the things she’d “learned” from Alexander over those next six years. He was born on the twenty-fi rst of February, eighteen hundred twenty-nine in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He moved to Chicago when he was twenty-four years old. It was there that he’d met and worked for Edward Rucker and Allan Pinkerton at the North Western Police Agency. After that, he’d become a private investigator — and she surmised, a very good one.

She’d even looked into some of his stories of crime solving, and sure enough, they were all one hundred percent accurate.

But Zoe knew that she must have heard those same stories in school or seen crime reenactment shows on television over the years. She’d just forgotten the source. They were old memories bubbling back to the surface by way of her dreams.

Zoe understood that Alexander never really existed.

If there were, however, a perfect therapy for what she’d been through, her dreams of him were that therapy. And just as she’d loved certain characters in books and in movies — all fi ctitious — so she loved Alexander.

She loved him most of all.

12

Christina Moss

Eleven years earlier . . .

A
lexander left the bar just after midnight. There wasn’t any action there, so he drove down the road a ways smelling out criminals. He’d been at it so long he could sense wrong-doing a mile away. Normally he would pick a large city, secure his daily resting place and spend a few nights talking with people. It was never long before he’d trace down some planned crime.

He’d long since learned to fi t in among the seedier offenders just as well as the richer and classier criminals. Crime was crime, as he saw it. And if he had to spend eternity cursed as he was, he’d at least make himself useful. He’d rather stretch out on a sandy beach and wait for the sun to come up and have its way with him than go around indiscriminately slaughtering innocent people for the sake of nutrition. In life he was a crime fi ghter and regardless of his necessity to feed on human blood, he just couldn’t bring himself to then commit senseless murder in his afterlife. The criminals he killed deserved to die. At least that’s how he had it fi gured.

13

Vampire of My Dreams

He only needed to feed twice a week, so he had plenty of time to fi nd some action. He’d ironed out his methodical system a long time before and it was still working for him — hang around, have a drink and strike up casual conversations with person after person after person. Always act friendly, in a stupid sort of way, and always pay attention. Alexander knew that sooner or later someone would brag about a planned crime they had knowledge of or were planning on perpetrating themselves.

On the rare occasion that it didn’t work, he’d simply ask where he could buy some drugs and he’d have his lead.

Alexander had been hanging around Boston for a few weeks since the big cities never seemed to have any shortage of crime.

On one particular night he cruised around Boston’s Back Bay until he sensed something, and then drove up to the front of an Irish Pub. He opened the door and left the keys in his Italian sports car, then stuffed a twenty into the valet’s hand.

“Bring it back without a scratch and I’ll give you fi fty.”

The young valet looked pleased and nodded. He knew his real employers were big tippers, and he respected them and gave them what they wanted.

It was a cold autumn night and chimneys were pouring the smell of burning wood into the crisp air. The six foot two vampire stood on the sidewalk in his black jeans, heavy shoes and wool coat, his black hair whipping in the wind.

14

Christina Moss

He pulled up the collar of his pea coat and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He wasn’t cold; he just wanted to pass for a human. And right then, he knew the humans outside were cold, so he played the part.

Something was being planned and his detective radar pointed to this place. He went inside, sat down at the bar and ordered a whiskey straight up. After a quick glance around the room, Alexander fi xed his attention on a booth in the distance where two men sat talking. The bartender served his drink and the undercover vampire slid a folded bill forward, grabbed his glass and went to the pool table near the men in question.

Alexander carefully inspected the cue sticks on the wall and picked up the straightest-looking one. After tossing it with a spin a few times to check for balance, he fl ipped open his silver lighter, lit a cigarette and walked to the pool table.

The vampire had zeroed in on a conversation at the booth

— a conversation he’d been monitoring since spotting them from the bar. Exceptional hearing had its benefi ts in his business. But nothing interesting had come up yet. Fortunately, he was patient. A good detective had to be.

A tall, slender man with sandy hair walked over to join Alexander for a game at the pool table. Now there was a good reason to hang nearby without looking suspicious. “I’ll rack

’em,” Alexander said quietly. “Eight ball? Twenty bucks?” His opponent nodded, and a game ensued.

15

Vampire of My Dreams

Ten minutes later, the conversation at the booth was beginning to get interesting.

“All right. I have a job for ya. Can I trust ya?”

“Yeah, what do ya think? ’Course ya can trust me!”

“He needs someone to drive him to Winchestah tonight.”

“Easy. Ten or so miles, right?”

“Right. Pick him up in the Nawth End in thirty minutes.

He’ll pay ya one-fi fty to drive him theah and then drive him back. Quick hit, you only have to wait for him in the cah.

Can you handle it, Jim?”

“Piece a cake.”

“And you nevah saw him, got it?”

“What am I, stupid? ’Course I nevah saw him.”

“Good. Now listen, I’m doing you a favah. Don’t fohget it.

Take off then. He don’t like it when people are late.”

The pool game had just ended. Alexander had been playing so long he could win in his sleep. He let the other guy win.

After handing him a twenty, he left through the front door, where Jim was waiting for his car.

Alexander spotted his young valet, leaned close and said quietly, “Get my car here in two minutes and I’ll give you a hundred.” One minute and fi fty seconds later, Alexander’s car had pulled up to the curb and Jim’s hadn’t arrived 16