To Sire, With LoveOctober 18, 2011 at 10:20 PM | Posted in Fiction | 9 Comments
Tags: flash fiction, vampires
Lori didn’t remember dying, but she remembered the night leading up to it.
It was the mysterious stranger, with just enough danger about him to make her swoon. His extravagant gifts, his steely grey eyes, and his impeccable manors made her curious about this man who was obviously too good for her. She felt he could read her–didn’t he know she was damaged goods?
Their passionate love-making turned violent, and she expected that. What she didn’t expect was the dying. But she’d seen enough Buffy to know what to do. And now here she was, in a box.
Fuckin aye. I’m never paying taxes again.
The knowledge came to her naturally. She knew she was a vampire. She knew James had sired her. She knew that she belonged to him now. Extricating herself from the coffin was tricky. It should have been easier, but James had decided to test her by weighing the coffin down, sealing the lid, and putting it in concrete. The concrete hadn’t set yet, and Lori was free. Where was James? “What the hell?”
This wasn’t his mansion-like condo. This was a fucking warehouse by the river. “James!” Lori called out. “James, I can feel you. I can find you, my love.”
Across town, James felt her home in on him, and felt sick. “Fuck.” She had turned, and turned quickly. It was supposed to be just a quick meal. In the end, she lunged at him and bit him. On purpose. The bitch knew what she was doing. He had to get out of here.
Lori killed several people getting into his house. James had been busy trying to pack up what was truly important to him. But he was two hundred years old and had accumulated a large amount of crap. He was also a pack rat by nature and unwilling to part with anything.
So Lori found him in the back of a stolen U-Haul truck, one-third full of precious Revolutionary War era antiques, early 60s kitsch, and unopened Star Wars action figures. “James! My Love!”
James looked like the proverbial deer in headlights. He dropped the framed Clockwork Orange movie poster.
“Uhm…hi. Hello, my dear.”
“Well, I passed the test you set up for me. I hope you are pleased.” Lori walked to him seductively, her hips swaying and her tramp stamp visible from the rear between her low-riding jeans and half-shirt. “Got any smokes?”
James tried to think, but it was hard. First of all, he was never good under pressure. It was peer pressure that made him a vampire. He had kept alive this long mostly by hiding.
He wasn’t clear on how much she could read him. He could read her, loud and clear. She wanted to stay with him forever. FOREVER. When you’re immortal, that’s less of a promise and more of a threat.
“Say, James…where ya going, anyway? Trying to leave town?” By now she was in his face, and mixed with the smell of death he could detect cigarettes, cheap beer, and cheaper perfume. All he could see was her chest. Lori had prided herself on her tits. They had gotten her farther than her GED ever did. Pushing 40, she looked like she was rode hard and put away wet. But now she’ll never age anymore. Her tits were sagging as far as they were going to sag. Her raspy truck-stop waitress voice would never get any deeper, and neither would her crow’s feet.
James felt cold hands pick up and throw him against the wall of the truck.
“You’re not going anywhere, you cocksucker!” There was fire in Lori’s eyes. “No one…is ever leaving me again.”
James got up quickly and took a swing at her. It was lightning fast with supernatural speed. To Lori, it was slow and clumsy. She grabbed his arm, bent it back, and put him to his knees, with his face in a box of Matchbox cars.
“Listen up, James. We’re both on a level playing field. We’re both vampires.” She bent his arm further and he grunted. “But for the last twenty years, I’ve had a few husbands and half a dozen boyfriends, and all of them liked to beat me. And rape me.” She brushed her hair out of her face. “Are you sure you don’t have any smokes?
“Anyway, you would not believe the number of times I’ve been forced to suck a dirty cock with a broken bottle to my throat.” She bent his arm further, until it snapped, then pushed him over. Hard.
“And that’s when I started to take self-defense lessons. Tae Kwon do, grav maga, kick-boxing. Before I was turned, you might have had a chance at stopping me. But now, there’s no fucking way, pal.”
James tried not to whimper. He was bewildered. What the fuck was with women these days?
Lori looked at him, and momentarily took pity on him. She bent down and caressed his cheek tenderly. “James, you’re not a bad guy. I like you. Really, I do. And the sex wasn’t awful. You’re not like the other guys I’ve been with. You’re sweet. You aren’t violent, you aren’t abusive. You’re a fountain of nerd. You’re exactly what I need. More or less. It’s something to work with, anyway.”
She hopped down from the truck.
“I’ll tell you what, cowboy. You take all your little trinkets and shit back in the house. I’ll let you keep them. Some of them. But I’m moving in. I am not going back to that trailer.” She fished for the keys to James’ sporty Volvo from the pocket of his dead driver. “Seriously, James? A Volvo?
“Anyway, I’m going to go grab some smokes. I’ll bring you back someone to eat.”
As Lori drove away, James brightened up somewhat. His arm no longer hurt and it was starting to heal. Maybe this is what he needs. A woman. A real woman. A strong, decisive woman.