Visiting the Neighbors

"It was a big nightmare. Nothing more," Mrs. Lafontaine assured Em as the household crowded at her door.

I pushed past Em's younger siblings crowded at the door. Mr. Andrews stood near his daughter's bed, looking troubled. Mrs. Lafontaine sat on Em's bed, holding her while she sobbed and gasped and sobbed again.

"Is Emily all right?"

"She's had a nightmare," Mrs. Lafontaine said.

Em flushed and settled back into her pillows. "Oh. I'm sorry I woke everyone. Really." She caught at my hand as I moved away from the bed, "Sit with me until I fall asleep."

"I don't know," Mr. Andrews frowned.

"Oh, surely there's no harm in it," said Mrs. Lafontaine.

Mr. Andrews shrugged.

I drew a chair near the bed and sat down.

Em watched the door close, then turned her lovely blue eyes to me, with an insistent, pregnant look. "Kiss me again like before, Missy. I won't scream this time. I promise."

I was startled and rose from my chair. "Em! What are you saying!"

"Oh, I don't know how … but I know." She looked away. "I've read books. I know what you are. Kiss me like that again, Missy."

"You don't know what you're asking." I moved to the window, gripping the ledge so hard my knuckles whitened.

"I do too," Her eyes met mine unafraid. "I'll never die, not really, and we can be together forever…" She halted and her eyes filled with tears. "Unless you don't love me?"

"Dearest Em. Of course, I love you." I returned to the bed.

"Then kiss me again. Any life is better than this living death."

It was an inescapable truth. Em had won and I had lost. I bent over her, pressing my lips to the great blue vein in her breast.

To Hell with my promise to Mama. She would have to do the accepting, for once.

Finally I couldn't stand it any longer. As I lifted my blood-rimmed mouth from her delicate breast, Em moaning weakly beneath me, I could feel her dying. "No, Em. You mustn't leave me. Do you truly love me, Em?"

Her eyes, glazed with weakness stared up trustingly "Forever, Missy."

With a sharp fingernail, I slashed my left breast and pressed her mouth to it. The blood flowed unheeded across her lips and for a moment, I feared I had acted too late. Then I felt her sucking, weakly at first, then more strongly. "Yes, Em. Yes, yes, yes. Drink, Em, my love. Drink."

Suddenly the door slammed open with such force that the knob shattered against the wall. Mr. Andrews confronted us, a large black gun in his hand. My back had been to him. He had not seen what we had been doing, only our embrace. I turned to move between Em and her father.

A normal woman would probably have felt vulnerable standing there in only a nightgown in front of a man with a loaded gun. I didn't.

"I thought so. You filthy pervert! I have been watching you." He gestured at me with his gun. "Now get away from my daughter."

"No," I said simply and stared at him, my lips drawing slowly, almost instinctively from my teeth.

"Please, father, don't!" Em cried in panic.

From the timber of her voice, I could tell her strength was returning, and took heart. "Don't beg this time, Em," I said softly. "Not ever again!"

"I knew it! I knew it all along." He gritted the words with such hate that my soul shriveled. "You lesbian bitch! Seducing my child! Leading her in the path of sin and corruption!"

"Oh, I'm a lesbian all right," I said coolly, sauntering leisurely toward him. "But I'm also something more." I paused about two yards from Mr. Andrews, regarding him for a moment with my hands on my hips, then started forward again.

A hint of puzzlement came into his hard righteous expression. His finger tightened on the trigger. "Stand where you are, Miss Karnstein!" he ordered roughly.

I ignored him.

He still wasn't frightened when he fired. My body shuddered at the impact, but I felt no pain. Even then he didn't get it. These fundamentalists! They claim they believe in the devil and the supernatural-but when they come face to face with them, none of them can ever truly believe it.

Mr. Andrews fired again. But I kept moving closer.

It was when the third shot failed to stop me that he panicked and emptied the gun. But by that point he was shaking so bad he only hit me once more. The wounds closed within seconds.

"Jesus Christ in Heaven save me!" He stumbled backwards, fell, got to his knees, began to pray. His kind don't believe in crossing themselves or wearing crucifixes. The Bible is enough for them – but it's damned inconvenient to carry as protection against the undead.

Besides, holy objects only work for those whose actions are loving

and godly. That left Mr. Andrews out.

I reached him before he could regain his feet and stood over him. The empty gun trembled in his hand. His face was a mixture of hatred, fear, disbelief, and that look of simplicity that often precedes madness. I took the gun from him and crushed it. Then he began the Lord's Prayer in a fractured fashion, unable to finish it before he gave up and started over.

"If there's a heaven, Mr. Andrews, I wouldn't count on your getting there." My hand closed on his throat and I lifted him off the ground. He strangled in my grasp. Yet that look of mindless hate and loathing – not of my state as one of the undead, but for my loving his daughter – never faltered.

After a time his struggles grew weaker, ceased entirely. I dropped him. I never once considered drinking from him – even the thought was distasteful. I mean he was sewer water compared to Em's champagne.

I felt Em's eyes on my back and I turned. "I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't be," she answered. There were tears in her eyes, but they were not for her father. "He imprisoned me. You released me. He caught me with Jemina when I was sixteen. We'd been lovers for two years. That's why we're in Montana. But … but," her voice started to shake a little, "I heard Mrs. Lafontaine say Jemina disappeared just before we moved. I don't think she ran away. I think father…" she didn't finish.

I could hear the rest of the house stirring in response to the shots and grabbed Em's hand. "Let's go," I said. "I'll show you how."

She looked at me trustingly, grasping my hand tighter as I drew her to the window. "Take a deep breath," I told her, staring deep into her eyes. "Then imagine yourself melting into mist."

She did and we flowed out over the snow, leaving not the slightest footprint behind.

Maybe this was what they meant by Happy Ever After. I hoped so. But only the centuries will tell.

GODWAR CENTRAL

Visiting the Neighbors