《Vampiros en Miami》 Part 1 Miami Beach March 26, 1985 Sid felt the sharp edge of his hangover as soon as his eyes cracked open in the dark room. He was nestled in a pile of hotel pillows covered in rough cotton. At some point, he had thought to close the thick curtains to block out the blazing Miami sun that would rise and set over the pristine white beach. The wide, salt spattered windows had been pulled shut, but the sound of the crashing waves could still be heard over the white noise of the air conditioning. He had been living out of this room at the Monte Carlo for a week now, paying the daily rates with the change he picked from the wallets of his johns. Johns. Could he even really call them that? After all, it was him seeking them out, not the other way around. And unlike his previous occupation, he was the one with the bottomless hunger. Last night, he¡¯d gone out like he had every night to find a suitable option. He remembered choosing Club Fiasco because despite its overwhelmingly straight clientele, it catered to a more affluent crowd. Sometimes, if you knew what to look for, you could even catch a glimpse of Miami royalty mingling amongst the glittering throngs. Smelling of luxury, their toned bodies relaxed and supple, they appeared almost as ageless as his kind. But years of hunting both for sustenance and for cash had taught Sid to spot them. Unlike him, they were still very human, and a good catch with a flush wallet could pay the rent for a long time. His eyes had closed again, and he was deep in his booze fogged memories, trying to piece together the night before. He remembered a man flashing him an ice white smile from a sculpted and tanned face, one hand on Sid¡¯s thigh, the other clutching a highball glass. His hungry eyes moved over Sid, taking in every inch of his body. The familiar dance had started. After a few more words of booze-fueled conversation, they would leave together for a slow walk along the moon-silvered beach. Sid¡¯s hotel was a mile down the strip, and under the inky canopy of stars, away from the distractions and noise of the swaying human masses, Sid would be free to work the magic he needed. His handsome friend had almost finished his gin fizz, and Sid opened his mouth, his lips preparing to form the invitation. Then, she had appeared. A woman¡¯s moan muffled by the sounds of shifting satin sheets brought him painfully back to the cold, tiled floor beneath him. Someone was asleep in his bed. This isn¡¯t right. None of this is right. He heaved himself off of the floor, feeling the aches and twinges in his joints like he never would on a full stomach. God, he needed to eat. Why the fuck didn¡¯t he-? His thoughts came to a halting reroute as he saw the raven-haired beauty in his bed, his sheets shrouding her long, slender form like an ivory gown. Tucked between two corpses, her sleeping face was a mask of peace and innocence, calling to his mind the image of Boticelli¡¯s Venus rising from the sea. As he watched, entranced by the delicate bow of her parted lips and the smooth skin of her high, uncreased brow, she stirred, pulling the hand of the corpse to her left, a woman, over her bosom. She held it close to her heart, her white fingers interlocking with the limp, graying hand. It¡¯s rude to stare, said a voice like honeyed wine. It was clear and distinct in his head, the sound of it soothing the tight vice around his skull like a pleasant anesthetic. But the woman¡¯s eyes remained closed, her perfect lips, though parted, hadn¡¯t moved to form the words. ¡°I¡­ can¡¯t help it,¡± he whispered. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anyone like you.¡± You haven¡¯t, the voice said matter- of-factly. I am alone in this country. Alone in the world. Now. ¡°How did you¡­ Why?¡± Sid stuttered, finding that his words came with some difficulty in her presence. Don¡¯t you remember, Sid? You invited me. I only ever go where I¡¯m invited. ¡°I¡­ invited you?¡± Images of the bodies dancing in the beach front club flashed before him like the strobing lights of the dance floor, only this time it was not his eyes he was seeing through. A young woman with long, teased out blonde hair was dancing before him, her hot pink dress hugging the curves of her youthful body. Every so often, she would smile coyly in his direction, her eyes communicating a secret that didn¡¯t need to be said. I am yours, she whispered in the fluttering of her false lashes, the sway of her nubile hips. The vision shifted suddenly as something caught his attention at the bar: two men, both tall and well built, one slender, the other wider in the shoulders. He was seeing himself and his companion from the night before. See me, whispered a voice that was not his own, and the eyes of Sid¡¯s companion shifted to stare in his direction. ¡°That was you,¡± Sid said, blinking as the vision she had implanted began to dissipate. Now he remembered. She had appeared like a mirage to the inebriated crowd, a ghostly white flower on the ocean floor, swaying gently as she was moved by the passing currents. The world around her seemed bent by a strange gravity she invoked, and it hadn¡¯t taken long for all eyes to move to her, including those of Sid¡¯s companion. Fuck, he thought as his prey set his empty glass down on the bar. ¡°I need another,¡± said the man, and he motioned to the bartender without looking away from the startling woman on the dance floor. ¡°And I need to talk to her.¡± ¡°Her?¡± Sid protested. ¡°Am I reading this wrong? I thought¡­¡± ¡°Relax babe,¡± the man said, affecting a patronizing tone that Sid would have found utterly unbearable had he not been so hungry. ¡°I¡¯m what you might call, ¡®open-minded.¡¯ Kind of looks like she might be too.¡± Across the floor, the woman whispered in the ear of her own companion, leaning in and tenderly brushing back locks of flaxen hair from a tanned cheek. Her dark eyes flashed in their direction, and the pair began to move slowly and sensuously through the crowd towards them. ¡°Shit,¡± Sid had muttered as the woman in his bed approached the bar, her companion following dutifully in her footsteps. Despite her otherworldly beauty, it had taken him a moment to comprehend what he was looking at. Afterall, this was Miami, where even the most stunning faces could be tweaked and augmented to an almost surreal state of perfection. She was a model, he thought, or perhaps the wife of some rich drug-lord, slumming it here with the proletariat. It wasn¡¯t until she spoke to him, her eyes flashing a feline green, her lips frozen in a sly, flirtatious smile, that he realized what she was. A goddess. What a lovely find, baby-bat, she had said. Why don¡¯t you fly off and find another? She spoke with that melodious voice directly into his booze addled brain, and for a moment, he almost obeyed. Yes, he thought. Of course, Goddess. Who was he to hunt in the same vicinity that she had deigned to visit that night? How dare he? Then, his hunger kicked in. No, he said, finding a voice somewhere deep in the recesses of his subconscious. It was like flexing a muscle he had never used before. No, he repeated in his mind, affirming to himself more than anything that he would not be driven away. Even by her. If she heard him, the goddess did not seem put off in the least. She brushed her long, silken hair away from her perfect face as her friend draped herself across the shoulders of Sid¡¯s companion. ¡°Come with us,¡± said the human woman after a few words of meaningless small-talk had been exchanged between them. ¡°It¡¯ll be rad. I promise.¡± Sid rolled his eyes as an idiotic grin bloomed across the face of his prey. ¡°Right on,¡± the man slurred drunkenly, and his hand groped along the bar behind him for his fresh drink. Sid¡¯s hands moved faster than he could think, and the little pellet was out of his pocket and between his fingers, poised over the glass of his spellbound prey before even he knew what he was doing. He felt the capsule crush and the powder sprinkle like grains of the finest sand into the gin fizz. He would never taste what Sid had done, but gradually, his interest in the goddess would wane. Soon, his attentions would be drawn back to Sid. All would be as it was, and this greedy huntress would have no choice but to leave him to his meal, as he would hers.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. ¡°Lead the way, babe,¡± said their disputed victim, and he downed his drink in one long swig, slamming the empty glass down on the marble bar with a clink loud enough to be heard over the bright, electronic rhythm. The goddess watched expectantly, waiting for him to rise. Despite himself, the beginnings of a smile materialized on Sid¡¯s face as his prey shook his head and blinked. ¡°Wait, what was I¡­?¡± he started, his eyes glued to the floor as the enchantment began to fade. ¡°You were going to come party with us,¡± said the Goddess. ¡°I¡­ I was?¡± He looked to her and then back to Sid. ¡°No,¡± he said, shaking his head. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I was.¡± The Goddess¡¯s smile never waned, but her nostrils flared almost imperceptibly. YOU, she said to Sid, the sweetness of her voice transmuting to cold steel. What did you do, baby-bat? He¡¯s mine, Sid answered defiantly. I was here first. Their eyes locked then, and he was trapped in the green, preternatural glow of her gaze. Do you know who I am? she said. No, he said, and for a brief, fleeting instant, fear flared up in him, eclipsing his need to feed. Maybe he should reconsider and leave this territory to the superior predator, he thought. But something about that green light inspired a curiosity in him. What kind of creature was she, he wondered, and how did she become like this? If he left now, he would never know. I don¡¯t know you, he said. Please. Tell me. At his request, the Goddess showed herself to him, revealing it in a series of images and seemingly disconnected revelations. In an instant, he understood the extent of her power. She was old, the oldest of their kind he had ever encountered; one of the first, made by the very same demon who had fathered them all. In her blood, the elements of flame, salt, aether, and water were condensed, and the memories of his making and the creation of all those who came before him resided in her. Strength, beauty, and ruthless lethality flowed from her like a wellspring. He knew then that he was hers. He would forever be hers, grateful to sit at her feet and feast upon the drops of blood that dripped down from her hungry mouth. She had only to ask, and he would follow her always, even unto the ends of the earth. Take me with you, he begged. Please, Goddess. Don¡¯t leave me. Very well then, she said. Sid felt the world around him return to focus as the green light faded from her eyes. Invite me. Goddess, Sid said, finding his voice once again in the dark hotel room. What¡­ What did, he stammered, still finding it difficult to speak even in this new language she was teaching him. Say it, she commanded, and his tongue was loosed. ¡°What the fuck did we do last night?¡± The words spilled out of him like water through a broken damn, and as it did, the absurdity of the previous night hit him like a deluge. He remembered the three of them, himself and two spellbound and drunken humans, traipsing along the beach, trailing after faint glimmers of her in the distance. Was she there? Had she left them? No. They could still hear the quiet echoes of her musical laughter, see the moon shining off of her white, ghost-like shoulders in the distance, smell her strange and exotic scent: night blooming Jasmine. The hotel room still reeked of this perfume, only now it mingled with the scent of sex and the stale, sour note of death. The goddess¡¯s eyes opened then, flashing green before settling back to deep brown. ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious,¡± she said, her mouth finally moving to form audible words. ¡°We partied, babe. Take a chill pill.¡± With those words, Sid felt a shift in his perception of the woman before him. Instead of a goddess, she transformed into a Miami club-vixen: still beautiful, mysterious, and thrilling to be sure, but wholly of this earth. Still, the memory of what she was stuck in his brain. As she sat up, clutching his sheets to her naked chest and rubbing her sleep filled eyes, a question began to eat at the edges of his thoughts. ¡°You say we partied,¡± he said carefully. ¡°But I think you mean you.¡± She smiled and shrugged, acknowledging his words with a casualness that might have been offensive had she been any less lovely. ¡°Sorry about that,¡± she said as she looked down at the corpses of the man and woman who had followed her here. ¡°I guess I was hungrier than I thought.¡± She certainly had been, he thought, recalling the eager way she had pulled the man into her, allowing his hands to run all along the curves of her naked skin. She gasped as his lips caressed her neck, his hand moving to work between her thighs. Her fangs, descended, and green light burned like a flame behind her eyes. She took him quickly, her hand wrapping around the shaft of his erect cock, expertly working him until he came to a sharp, immobilizing climax. Sid watched as the man, who was a full foot taller than her, collapsed in the arms of the goddess. As his limbs were rendered useless, his face turned gray and his eyes rolled back in his skull. Next, she fixed her attentions on the woman, who had been watching, waiting patiently by the window next to Sid. With this one, the Goddess was unhurried, pushing her down on the bed and kissing her way slowly down. She took her time, allowing the woman¡¯s pleasure to build, ebbing and flowing until at last the tides were about to crash over the goddess¡¯s control. Then and only then did she allow her prey to reach her peak. As she came, Sid could swear he saw the goddess flex, the muscles in her back tensing as two coal black wings unfurled above her. This, she said to him. This is how monsters feed, baby-bat. Sid stared, transfixed by the demoness¡¯s true form for a long while, losing track of time as he watched the life drain from the willing victim on the bed. Her back arched and she released a final cry filled with both pleasure and pain as the last of her soul poured from her body and into the ravenous creature kneeling between her legs. Draw the curtains, commanded the Demoness. She wiped her mouth with the back of her delicate hand, and the wings were gone. Yes, Goddess, Sid had said to the hauntingly beautiful, naked woman in his bed, and he obeyed, all the while wondering if she had somehow enchanted him as she had the poor dead humans beside her. The question returned to Sid¡¯s cloudy mind as he surveyed the damage she had wrought the following evening. ¡°I guess I could have saved a little for you,¡± the Goddess said. ¡°I usually only need one. The second is¡­ Shit!¡± She had been toying with the woman¡¯s limp hand, tracing along the slack tendons and deflated veins. She let it fall to the bed with a dull thump as she exclaimed. ¡°That¡¯s right. The second was to help me get rid of the goddam body. Fuck. I never seem to remember¡­¡± She flopped back in the bed, turning away from the man, who had died flashing his ice-white teeth in a wide, rictus grin. At her request, Sid had pulled him from the floor and into the bed beside her before they¡¯d passed out. She faced the woman, and pulling the dead hand close to her heart, she pushed flaxen hair away from the lifeless, blind eyes of her favored victim. ¡°This one had beautiful fingers,¡± she said, her lips brushing tenderly against the back of the gray hand. ¡°She could have been a musician. Or an artist. But she wasn¡¯t any of those things, was she?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Sid. ¡°She could have been.¡± ¡°She could have been,¡± agreed the Goddess. ¡°But she wasn¡¯t. Is there anything as tragic as wasted potential?¡± Sid remained silent as she continued to fawn over her leavings. ¡°Do you remember them all?¡± he said after a while. ¡°Many of them,¡± she said. ¡°The pretty ones.¡± She opened the long, slender fingers and held her palm to the dead woman¡¯s. ¡°It was lovely, the way she passed, wasn¡¯t it? Grasping the sheets in her last moments, almost like she could hold time still. Did you see it?¡± Sid shook his head. No. He had never given much thought to those final, subtle gestures, but as the Goddess described them, her misty eyes like two murky pools of eternity, he found himself wishing he had. ¡°I can teach you, baby-bat. I can show you more magic than you could ever rend from your little herb garden.¡± ¡°From my-¡± he started, remembering blearily that he had tried to combat her spell with one of his own. A capsule of Persian bark and a touch of violet to break her hex and ignite lust. ¡°I was just, I needed to-¡± he sputtered. ¡°You needed to eat,¡± she said as she sat up and extended a long, white arm towards him. ¡°Like all creatures do. Come.¡± Sid moved towards her automatically, his body obeying her command before his brain could react. As her fingers brushed his forehead, he felt a warm, calm energy spread through him like melted butter, soothing and healing as it traveled down his spine and along his limbs. ¡°For you, Sid,¡± she whispered. ¡°This and so much more.¡± ¡°Thank you, Goddess,¡± he said as he felt his hunger lifted from him like a heavy burden he¡¯d been carrying for miles. ¡°Call me Lacrima,¡± she said. ¡°Lacrima Zepesh.¡± The name fell from her lips and hung in the darkness between them, evoking in Sid a sense of timeless wonder and fear. Zepesh, he repeated in his thoughts, the scent of Jasmine grew stronger to eclipse the mortal world around them. ¡°Now Sid,¡± Lacrima said, her voice like a soft song to him. ¡°I need you to do something for me.¡± ¡°Anything,¡± he said, feeling in his heart the truth of this promise. ¡°Take these bodies far away from here. Get rid of them.¡± Yes, he said with the voice she had taught him to use. As you wish, Goddess. Part 2 Sid managed to get the bodies onto a loading dock and into the back of an idling van by burying them in a laundry cart beneath a layer of soiled guest sheets. Despite the chance of getting pulled over, he pressed his foot down on the gas just a little harder, pushing the hour-long drive to his usual spot down to 45 minutes. The longer he spent away from his newfound Goddess, the more certain he was that she would simply vanish, fading away into the humid night like foam on the ocean waves. He drove south and then west into the everglades, flipping off his headlights as he came to the familiar spot in the road. Help me, he prayed as he pulled slowly into the underbrush. The tires slipped and spun in the mud, and he clutched the silver pentagram charm that hung around his neck. Give me strength. His heart leapt as they found purchase once again, and he tucked the necklace back into his shirt. Once he had gone far enough that the tall sawgrass and leafy mangroves would obscure the van from the road, he cut the ignition and listened in the dark for the sounds of the ancient monsters that lay in wait. With the windows down, he could hear them, hissing and croaking as they slithered out of the water and onto the muddy bank. Their eyes reflected yellow in the moonlight, and the largest of them let out a long, low growl as Sid unloaded the first body. Stay back, he thought, holding up his palm and locking eyes with the enormous gator. It snapped its ruthless mouth of knife-like teeth and croaked in protest, but it remained where it was. ¡°Ok,¡± he said after he unloaded the second corpse. She spilled out from the sheet she was wrapped in and onto the muddy ground, her white, naked limbs intertwining with the first body in an awkward embrace. ¡°Bon Appetit.¡± He stepped back, and the gators approached, jostling for position as they drew closer to their promised meal. Soon, they would return to their watery home, dragging the corpses with them to ripen and bloat at the bottom of the black swamp. If the bodies ever surfaced again, it would be in sodden and decayed pieces, unrecognizable from their once human forms. Sid would stay until he was certain the gators had finished, but he turned away as they worked, preferring instead to gaze at the auspiciously waxing moon. He had long since given up on the Goddess he had once seen there, and his prayers, once offered with such fervency, had become perfunctory and automatic. But tonight, as he looked up at the familiar white crescent casting the only light in a starless sky, a still, small voice whispered a hopeful prayer to the Maiden Moon for the season that lay ahead. He sped back to civilization, his mind racing as he tore through the city¡¯s outskirts. He had felt for so long as though he were wandering through this afterlife like a pariah in the desert, slowly dying with each passing day as he became more desperate, more reckless. Intellectually, he had known that there were others like him. The memory of the night he¡¯d been turned still haunted him like a vivid nightmare. He had woken just before dawn in an empty alleyway, bleeding and in terrible pain, knowing somehow that he had returned from death, but not knowing how or why he had been spared. His last memories were of a handsome face buying him a drink, then teeth, pain, and a suffocating darkness that swallowed him whole. Though it had taken all of his strength and determination, he followed a nascent instinct and crawled inside of dumpster just as the scorching sun peaked over the horizon. It was there, half-buried in the shit-smelling leavings of a callous and ugly world, that he had lost his belief in the wondrous, in the pure. But Lacrima was something different. Hers was a kind of energy he had always wanted to believe in but had never encountered before. The mere act of being in her presence awakened something in him he had only dreamed of feeling. Magik like he¡¯d never known flowed through her like a lightning rod, and she had chosen him to be her disciple. What have I done? He asked, looking to the moon hanging over the highway. What have I done to deserve this? At the hotel, Sid could scarcely contain himself, opting to take the five flights of stairs at a run instead of waiting for the elevator. He reached the room where he had left her and stood outside for a moment, attempting to catch his breath and calm his heart. Then, with a shaking hand, he inserted the key into the lock, and slowly, he opened the door. The room on the other side was dark and smelled of sweet jasmine, but Sid felt a sharp change in the aura inside. Hours before, the air had felt charged and potent with impossible energy. Now, that charge had been extinguished, and he knew without seeing that Lacrima was gone. Still, he called out for her, first using the new language they shared, and then, as his desperation mounted, slipping into his coarse, human tongue. ¡°No. No, please, this can¡¯t be happening,¡± he begged as he fell to his knees beside the bed where she had slept. The pillow was still indented where her head had rested, and the sheets smelled of her intoxicating perfume, but all of the magik he had sensed here had since dissipated. Sid wept bitterly, clutching at the sheets and wrapping them around himself as he called out, cursing Lacrima for leaving, himself for believing, and the moon, who had watched from above with cold indifference as his Goddess, his real Goddess, had abandoned him to the bitter and colorless world. Sometime later, when the embers of sorrow and anger had flared and faded, Sid picked himself up from the cold, tiled floor and carried himself to the bathroom. One foot, then the next¡­ It gets easier, he told himself. It was the same promise he had been repeating for five years now, and in that time, he had taught himself to hunt, to feed, to survive. He had gone from crawling to walking to almost sprinting alone through the darkness. But no. It had never gotten easier. The reflection of a handsome man with high, sharp cheekbones and steel gray eyes greeted him in the mirror; the same face, untouched by the world, for five years now. It wasn¡¯t entirely a myth that vampires lacked a reflection, he thought. That face was not his own. It took him all of five minutes to pack everything he owned: a change of clothes, a neon green lava lamp, and a pentagram shaped tray, scorched from the incense he sometimes burned when he was feeling nostalgic, all fit neatly into a black duffel bag. He left the room without bothering to look back, wanting nothing more than to forget everything that had happened here. He wondered, as he trudged down the stairs, if he lived long enough, would ever see another creature like Lacrima again? He crossed the lobby, keeping his head down despite the lackadaisical attitude of the nightly desk clerk. The portly woman rarely seemed to lift her eyes from the paperback romance novel she¡¯d been reading, but he had failed to collect any funds last night, and he would just as soon not address this shortcoming with her. He had made it to the exit, the tips of his finger brushing against the iron door handle, when he heard her voice calling across the lobby to him. ¡°Room 634?¡± she said gruffly. He stopped, momentarily considering bolting out into the night. He could certainly outrun her, but he had seen the burley guard who patrolled the front entrance. He wouldn¡¯t make it far before being tackled, restrained, and roughed up just to start with. ¡°Yeah?¡± he said, turning slowly to face the expectant woman behind the front desk. ¡°I¡¯m just stepping out for a smoke,¡± he said. ¡°Was going to pay you when I get back.¡±The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. The woman frowned and shook her head. ¡°Room¡¯s been paid,¡± she said. ¡°Supposed to tell you something.¡± She scratched her head, releasing a shower of dandruff flakes from her greasy, straw-colored hair. ¡°Paid?¡± Sid repeated as a tiny ember of hope began to burn just a little brighter. ¡°Who paid it?¡± The woman shook her head and scratched harder, her fingers raking into her scalp and tearing out thin strands of hair. ¡°Who... It¡­ paid¡­¡± she repeated, her face turning purple as she forced out the words. ¡°What are you supposed to tell me?¡± said Sid. Spit it out. At his command, the woman¡¯s eyes went cloudy and her face fell slack as though she had fallen into a deep trance. ¡°Get in the car, baby-bat,¡± she said with a sly smile that was not her own. ¡°I have so many things to show you.¡± Sid almost dropped his duffel bag as he scrambled out to the carport, and a black Rolls Royce pulled up to the curb. An elegantly uniformed driver stepped out to open the passenger door for him, and without looking, he leapt inside the cabin where the heavenly scent of jasmine enveloped him like a warm blanket. ¡°Hey baby-bat,¡± said a familiar voice with a sweet, musical tone. ¡°I¡¯ve been giving it some thought, and if this is going to work, we¡¯re going to need to make some changes.¡± Sid searched the dark cabin, his eyes welling with tears of joy. Lacrima¡¯s shining green eyes greeted him, and she handed him a tumbler of smoky-smelling scotch. ¡°You¡¯re here!¡± he said, barely managing to contain his emotions in her presence. ¡°I did what you asked me,¡± he blurted. ¡°And I¡¯d do it again. I will do it again. Whatever you want.¡± ¡°Ok,¡± said Lacrima, raising a dismissive hand. ¡°Ok, ok, ok. Drink your scotch and calm down. First thing¡¯s first, baby. We need to get you some new duds.¡± ¡°Some new¡­¡± Sid started, hardly comprehending the very words she was speaking. ¡°Clothes, yeah,¡± said Lacrima. ¡°You look like yesterday¡¯s news. And you smell like yesterday¡¯s¡­ well. Better take things slow, I guess.¡± ¡°Whatever you say, Goddess,¡± said Sid, clutching his drink like a holy relic between his white knuckled hands. ¡°Please, Sid, It¡¯s Lacrima,¡± she said, and she took a delicate sip of her own drink. ¡°We¡¯re going to have an eternity together, so you should probably cut this shit out now.¡± Eternity. Sid repeated the word in his mind. That was indeed what they could have if they wanted it. Funny how the prospect of immortality had been so daunting only moments before, but now it seemed almost like a dream. An eternity to travel, learn, and hone his craft with this endless creature he had found. What more could he have asked of the universe? ¡°So,¡± said Lacrima, tipping her glass towards him. ¡°Cheers to us. We¡¯re going to have so much fun, baby-bat. I promise.¡± ¡°Cheers,¡± said Sid. Their glasses clinked together, and Sid downed the scotch in one bracing swallow. Yes, he thought as a warm feeling spread through his chest. Cheers to eternity. Lacrima took him to a mansion along the waterfront and dismissed the driver with a single word muttered under her breath. ¡°Home sweet home,¡± she said as she pushed open a pair of tall wooden doors. ¡°Come see where you¡¯ll be staying.¡± The d¨¦cor inside was tastefully modern with touches of class added by the dark wood accents of the furnishing and bookshelves full of obscure volumes and strange nautical trinkets lining the high-ceilinged parlor. ¡°Where did you get all this stuff?¡± Sid asked, examining a tentacled creature preserved in a dark liquid. ¡°Hmm? Oh, I travel,¡± Lacrima said without bothering to look back. She motioned for him to follow as she made her way towards a sweeping set of stairs, and Sid tailed behind her, peering into a dark hallway off of the living room before ascending. The faint smell of rotting food and the sound of flies buzzing caught his attention, and he noticed a dark stain on the carpeting faintly visible in the shadows. ¡°Come on,¡± she called back to him. ¡°I have a really good room for you. I think you¡¯ll like it a lot.¡± Lacrima opened three doors as she led him down the long hallway, cracking the first two to peer inside and then slamming them shut with apparent dissatisfaction. ¡°No,¡± she muttered after each. ¡°Not this one.¡± Finally, they came to the third, and she showed him to a room overlooking a swimming pool with clear, azure waters lit by underwater flood lights. ¡°I keep meaning to call the pool boy back,¡± she said as Sid tossed his duffel bag onto the king bed, wrinkling the glossy duvet and knocking one of the zebra skin pillows to the creamy shag carpeting below. ¡°I think I scared him away when I first moved in.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± said Sid, looking down at the pool once more. The deck was strewn with upset tables and reclining chairs knocked about as though by the winds of a hurricane, and in the center, a glittering mosaic of an orange lizard was stained with a dark fluid splattered across its scales. ¡°I suppose I was delinquent on his payment,¡± Lacrima explained. ¡°Life these days is just too complicated.¡± She tossed her hand in a flippant gesture at the glowing pool waters and the dock beyond, where Sid could make out the shadow of a small passenger boat bobbing in the channel. ¡°Everyone needs paid, but on different days, and some want checks, but others only take cash¡­ And they all have names! It¡¯s exhausting. Remember when the help just lived on your land and they were grateful just for the chance to till it?¡± ¡°You¡¯re asking if I remember surfs?¡± Sid said as he unzipped his duffel bag. It had taken him mere minutes to toss his belongings into it, and now, as he pulled out his neon green lava lamp to set it on a night stand made of shining onyx wood, he wondered if he should have even bothered. Everything in this room cost more than he could earn in a month, even when he was human. ¡°No. I don¡¯t remember serfdom. And that¡¯s kind of how things go now.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what the pool boy said too,¡± Lacrima admitted. ¡°And then¡­¡± Her eyes flicked upwards to the crown molding over the purple walls. ¡°That¡¯s right. I killed him. Shit. That¡¯s why he didn¡¯t come back.¡± ¡°Maybe you should keep track of that stuff,¡± offered Sid. ¡°You know. In case you need to find another pool boy.¡± ¡°Ugh, no,¡± she said with a dismissive toss of her long, black hair. ¡°What¡¯s the point.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡± Sid started, trailing behind her as she breezed out of his bedroom and down the wide, sweeping staircase to the sunken living room. ¡°The point is that you won¡¯t need a new pool boy every week. You could stay in the same place for more than, say, a week at a time. You don¡¯t have to live like¡­ Well, like me.¡± ¡°Why?¡± said Lacrima. ¡°Why should I want to stay in one place? Have you seen the size of the cities they build? The sheer numbers of them born every day?¡± She poured herself a glass of red wine from a corked bottle on a mirrored bar and collapsed onto a circular sectional. ¡°It would take me an eternity to taste all of this city¡¯s offerings. Longer still for them to become accustomed to my face,¡± she said, her eyes shining as she stared into the dark red liquid in her glass. ¡°Why the hell should we be cautious when they¡¯re so desperately begging to be culled like the blighted herd they are. ¡°You think you can go unnoticed?¡± said Sid. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so sure of that.¡± He took a seat on the sectional across from her. ¡°All it takes is one love-struck wack-job. Maybe he gets to following you around, tails you back to your ground, and stumbles across your collection of dead pool-boys in the guest house¡­ Secret¡¯s out and even a stunner like you is on the run.¡± ¡°On the run¡­¡± she repeated, measuring the words as though she didn¡¯t quite understand them. ¡°Yes. I suppose that would be disadvantageous¡­ I know!¡± she said brightly. ¡°You should help me.¡± ¡°Help you what? Tame the surfs?¡± said Sid. ¡°Not sure I¡¯m exactly pedigreed enough for that kind of work, Princess.¡± ¡°Nonsense,¡± said Lacrima, seeming to miss his sarcasm. ¡°You don¡¯t need a title to run a household. Particularly when the bulk of your responsibilities will involve dismembering pool-boys.¡± She stood up then and poured him a glass of wine. ¡°Besides,¡± she continued, extending to him a glass so full it almost spilled out onto the cream carpet. ¡°No one will ever dare question you. Not when you¡¯re with me.¡± ¡°No,¡± he said as he accepted the glass. ¡°I suppose they wouldn¡¯t.¡± Lacrima grinned, her full, dark lips framing pearly white teeth. As stunning as she was with her sultry stare, her smile was all the more captivating. ¡°Fabulous,¡± she said. ¡°Then it¡¯s settled. You¡¯ll manage the details while I take care of¡­ the big picture.¡± She waved a hand, encompassing the entirety of the house and the expansive property outside in her gesture. ¡°So¡­ I¡¯m like what? You¡¯re personal assistant?¡± Sid asked, and he took a sip of his red wine. It tasted earthy and complex with a smooth finish. ¡°Whatever,¡± Lacrima shrugged. ¡°Sounds good to me. Part 3 Sid spent the remainder of the night becoming acclimated to his new surroundings, taking note of the pantry full of rotten food and the three grotesquely decaying corpses dressed in chic lounge-ware he found scattered throughout the property. He would have to find some time to clean this mess up in the coming days, but for now, he followed Lacrima¡¯s instructions to relax, selecting a tome from the bookshelves on tropical forests and paging lazily through its colorful illustrations while sipping red wine. Eventually, the sky outside of the wide windows grew purple and pink, and the imminent dawn drove him to ground. He pulled thick curtains over his bedroom windows and crawled beneath heavy sheets, feeling his body sink into the pillowed mattress. As the sun rose outside, sleep fell over him like a weighted blanket. He gave himself over to a deep and uninterrupted slumber, dreaming of a lush garden full of delicate orchids, overgrown ferns, and of course, ghost white jasmine blooming under a full moon. The following evening, Lacrima took him to Federico¡¯s, a popular haberdashery in the Miami fashion district, where a nervous little man with thin, dark hair pulled measuring tape across Sid¡¯d various extremities while a the store¡¯s namesake, a boisterous Argentinian in a ridiculous blue fedora, looked on. The fitting started on a good note, with Federico and Lacrima discussing which of the season¡¯s latest trends and color schemes would best match his complexion. But things took an ugly turn after the seventh jacket the assistant pulled over Sid¡¯s shoulders nearly tore as he strained to make it fit. ¡°It¡¯s not my fault, Miss,¡± insisted Federico. ¡°His shoulders, they are too wide.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be absurd,¡± Lacrima shot back, glowering next to a rack of pastel bowties as Federico¡¯s nervous little assistant helped Sid peel off a dark red dress shirt that was at least two sizes too small for him. ¡°They¡¯re perfect. And with that narrow waist of his? Any tailor in the world would be thrilled to clothe such a marvelous frame.¡± The Argentinian shook his head. ¡°Not my clothes, Miss. They¡¯re not for him.¡± ¡°I see,¡± said Lacrima, and she moved to the front of the store. ¡°Well, I suppose we¡¯ll take our business elsewhere. Come, Sid. I don¡¯t think this place is quite what we¡¯re looking for anyway.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± he agreed, shoving past the assistant. ¡°It¡¯s all a little¡­ What¡¯s the word?¡± ¡°Tacky?¡± offered Lacrima. ¡°Yeah, tacky.¡± ¡°Overstated,¡± Lacrima continued. Sid nodded. ¡°Comes across desperate.¡± ¡°God, we¡¯re so in sync,¡± Lacrima said excitedly as Federico¡¯s face turned beet red. ¡°I¡¯m so happy we found each other, my love.¡± ¡°How dare you!¡± fumed the tailor. ¡°You insult my clothes, you insult my art! Get out of my store, you tasteless mongrels!¡± ¡°It was fortunate,¡± agreed Sid, taking his cue from Lacrima and ignoring Federico. ¡°So where will we go now?¡± ¡°Hmm¡­ I think I know a place,¡± Lacrima said thoughtfully. ¡°In New York.¡± ¡°I said get out! Hijo de Puta! Get out, maricon!¡± raged Federico. ¡°New York is pretty far,¡± said Sid. ¡°But not over water,¡± Lacrima pointed out as though this meant something. ¡°It¡¯s just a quick plane ride away, love. Still, it¡¯s a long way to go on an empty stomach.¡± She turned back to the door and flipped the sign hanging on the handle so it would read ¡°closed¡± from the street. ¡°You should probably eat before we leave, I think.¡± She turned her gaze to the indignant Argentinian. ¡°Go on,¡± she said. ¡°Tuck in.¡± ¡°Well that was pointless,¡± Lacrima said as Sid hailed a taxi a few minutes later. They had left the store in a bloody mess after Lacrima instructed the terrified assistant to forget what he¡¯d seen. Sid had wiped his face on a powder-pink suit jacket on his way out the door, but his black t-shirt was still wet with the Argentinian¡¯s blood. ¡°I keep trying to shop local, but I don¡¯t know why I bother with this city,¡± she continued. ¡°If the climate weren¡¯t so agreeable, I swear I would have packed up and gone north years ago. Never mind. We¡¯ll find what we need in New York. Vincenzo has served my family for years.¡± A yellow cab pulled up and Sid held open the door as she continued on about the museums and clubs they would visit on their trip. ¡°Oh, and I imagine we could still find a room at the Waldorf if we call soon. We could make a weekend of it!¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± agreed Sid, stunned by her decadence. As he slid into the back of the taxi beside her, all of the concerns and fears he¡¯d had, things that had seemed so critical to his very survival, faded into the background. ¡°Whatever you say, boss.¡± The tailor in New York was a stooped Italian man who worked wordlessly with large veiny brown hands that shook as they pulled the measuring tape deftly around Sid¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Vino, Senora?¡± he said, his eyes glued to the red carpeted floor. ¡°Si, grazie, Vincenzo,¡± said Lacrima. He called back to a plump woman in the back of the store who hurried in with two glasses and a bottle of red wine, the same vintage that Lacrima had offered him his first night in the house. Sid savored it, enjoying its subtle favors as Vincenzo helped him into a perfectly tailored black dinner jacket.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Marvelous as usual, Vincenzo,¡± said Lacrima. ¡°Almost perfect. It just needs one last touch.¡± She rose from the leather arm chair she had been lounging in to examine a display of silk handkerchiefs. ¡°This one, I think,¡± she said, selecting a deep magenta and tucking it into Sid¡¯s jacket pocket. ¡°You can pull off pinks. It¡¯s your super-power.¡± ¡°My super power?¡± said Sid. ¡°Among others, I¡¯m sure,¡± said Lacrima. ¡°The dark gift is different for us all. Now let¡¯s get out of here. There¡¯s a show I¡¯d like to see in Chelsea. Something called ¡®Susan and the Banshees¡­¡¯ Supposed to be very avant garde.¡± Sid woke the next morning with the taste of fresh blood still in his mouth and the distant memory of a slim man with a yellow mohawk kneeling in front of him in a piss-soaked bathroom. ¡°What the fuck,¡± he muttered as he rolled over to find the man was still in his bed, breathing deeply as he slept off the previous night¡¯s hangover. Guess you weren¡¯t hungry, offered Lacrima. Sid searched the darkness, finding her shape outlined in the sparkling lights of the city below. The curtains that had shut out the sunlight had been drawn, and night had fallen once again. And you? He said. Did you feed? No need, she said, shaking her head. I can do with very little sometimes. When it¡¯s offered willingly. Sid recalled the grimy basement club where black clad youths drank flat beer and thrashed around to discordant riffs. Lacrima had stood beside him as the crowd instinctually maintained a perimeter around them, her eyes glued to the band as a woman with a heavy cat¡¯s eye belted a gloomy melody from a makeshift stage. Even then, he had sensed from the intensity of her stare that she was taking in more than the ambiance of the venue. He had never seen her drink blood, but he still couldn¡¯t quite grasp what it was that she fed upon. Lust? Pleasure? Energy? After a few days of club-hopping in NYC, the pair headed home to Miami, where their life fell into a comfortable pattern. Together, they crashed venues ranging from the finest garden parties to the seediest underground clubs, all the while supping on a willing and delectable populace. Lacrima artfully played the role of the spoiled Miami socialite, blending seamlessly with any crowd she chose, while Sid followed his queen, ever content to kneel at her feet or stand at her side as the occasion would suit her. Wherever they went, they were greeted with hospitality befitting royalty, which Lacrima seemed to know instinctually how to exploit to meet their needs. In their downtime, Lacrima started to teach Sid how to use some of his innate skills. ¡°You have a sensitivity for the minds of others. A gift of persuasion,¡± she said one night as they strolled through a city park. ¡°Have you ever found that you can convince people around you to do certain things? Maybe things that aren¡¯t exactly in their best interest?¡± ¡°I¡­ No, actually. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve really tried that,¡± said Sid. ¡°The idea kind of makes me¡­ Well it makes me uncomfortable.¡± ¡°I see,¡± said Lacrima. ¡°And what about animals? Maybe you¡¯ve trained a bird or charmed a snake? Taught a dog to expect food at the sound of a bell?¡± ¡°Or a gator,¡± said Sid, picturing the large, dinosaur like creatures as they tore into the dead bodies he dumped along the banks of their swamp. ¡°So you have used your gift then,¡± said Lacrima. Sid shrugged. ¡°Yeah, I guess I have.¡± She stooped down then and peered into a tall shrub. Dozens of flashing eyes shone out at them from within its branches, and she extended a hand towards them. ¡°Come, little one,¡± she called sweetly. ¡°Come here.¡± The branches of the shrubs began to rustle, and a feral kitten the size of Sid¡¯s palm trotted out from the shadows, its mother calling balefully after it. ¡°Roll over,¡± she said to the kitten. It regarded her with wide eyes the color of the sky above the Miami shore and flopped back on the concrete exposing the white downy fur of its belly. ¡°Stand.¡± It obeyed, rising onto its haunches and batting playfully at Lacrima¡¯s fingers as she waved them over it. ¡°Now,¡± she said, the sweetness draining from her voice. ¡°Place your head beneath my heel.¡± Sid cringed, fighting the urge to reach down and rescue the little creature as it crouched and laid it head obediently against the pavement below her raised heel. ¡°Good,¡± she said, holding her leg steady over the little creature¡¯s head. From the bushes, the mother continued to wail in protest. ¡°Do you see, Sid? Do you see the power of this gift? Now you try. Give it a command.¡± ¡°Go back,¡± Sid said without missing a beat. ¡°Go to your mother.¡± The kitten extracted its head from beneath Lacrima¡¯s raised heel and scampered back into the shrubs. ¡°I don¡¯t like this kind of game,¡± he said, and he started off down the sidewalk, leaving Lacrima and the kittens behind him. Lacrima dropped it then, deciding instead to focus on teaching him other skills. He learned to change his shape, shifting into the form of a large gray cat to slink around the house and chase after the rats that congregated under the dock. Then, she taught him how to convince a human bouncer that, no, his name was indeed on the list, so check again. And finally, he learned to move like a silent shadow in the darkness, slipping around the neighborhood and inside the adjacent mansion homes to spy on their unwitting occupants. In this way, he learned that they were not alone in wanting their privacy. Almost every house on their block was occupied by families with various criminal ties, or were used as safehouses for high-level members of the Cartel. As it happened, Lacrima could not have selected a better location. This was the first of many such realizations, feeding into a nagging question. At times, his mistress could seem utterly helpless in the modern age, refusing to open a bank account or purchase any property of her own, but the role of the spoiled Princess was as much of a performance as the games she played with her prey. In fact, the more time he spent with her, the more he came to realize that she didn¡¯t actually need him to perform any of the tasks she asked of him. So why, then, he wondered, did she keep him around? This, and many more questions began to burn in his mind over the years he spent with her, and little by little, he came to understand the calculating mind beneath the beauty and the chaos. Immediately apparent was the duality of her nature. She was in equal measures kind, generous, and charming, but capable of thoughtless cruelty that bubbled up from a deep wellspring inside her. But from where did it stem, he wondered, and why? Most of the time, he was able to ignore it or write it off as a symptom of who and what she was. The games she played were like a housecat stalking insects and pulling the legs off of their wriggling bodies, all a part of some long-buried instinct too intrinsic to ignore. She couldn¡¯t help it, and maybe someday, if he lived long enough, he would be like that too. And Sid was almost able to believe this happy lie, until one night at a cocktail party in Coral Gables, a Cuban physician named Alvaro Garcia entered their lives, and he was forced to watch in excruciating detail as Lacrima played her most favorite game yet. Part 4 It had been Sid who had seen the doctor first. Physically, he was just the type that Lacrima preferred, with his tall, lank build and untamed dark hair. In recent weeks Sid had sensed in her a kind of creeping malaise that had begun to spread, infecting his mind as well through a mysterious connection that had been evolving between them. Perhaps this man, offered as a gift, would be enough to brighten her mood. He was standing beside a table of cheeses, nibbling at a bit of manchego and fidgeting nervously with a cocktail fork when Sid approached. He appeared to be deep in thought, lost to the sounds of the string quartet and the subdued laughter of the partygoers around him. ¡°Hey there,¡± said Sid, withdrawing a case of Cuban cigarillos from his breast pocket. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d like to join me for a smoke? You look like you could use one.¡± ¡°Certainly,¡± the doctor said brightly, his dark eyes filling with light as he tumbled out of his daydreams. ¡°Thank you.¡± He accepted a cigarillo, perching it between long, elegant fingers. He had the hands of a musician, thought Sid. Or an artist. The two of them talked for a while, strolling the perimeter of the party where the boughs of blooming orange trees dipped low along the path. By this time, Sid had learned to use his gifts to extract information without reciprocation, and he found that the doctor was a particularly easy mark. With a little prompting and a friendly smile, he learned that Alvaro had recently come to Miami by way of a prestigious fellowship following a residency in one of his country¡¯s best hospitals. Now, he was working in the city, living alone while the hospital¡¯s lawyers worked to secure the necessary paperwork for his wife and young son to join him. ¡°It¡¯s lonely, he said as they rounded the corner of an empty gazebo, coming upon a large fountain set within a wide stone pool. ¡°But I have my music,¡± ¡°Oh, you¡¯re a musician?¡± asked Sid, spying a familiar shape in flowing ivory sitting on the ledge of the fountain. ¡°An amateur, really,¡± said Alvaro. ¡°I play the piano. It¡¯s the only thing that kept me sane during my training. My true passion, really, is my work. The art of healing is¡­ it¡¯s my gift.¡± He looked to the dark purple sky and tossed the butt of his cigarillo to the ground. ¡°My family used to say that I was chosen for it¡­ by god.¡± ¡°By god?¡± said Sid, shifting so he was facing Lacrima. Alvaro mirrored his movement, leaving his back to her as she peered in to the reflecting, silver water. ¡°Yes,¡± said Alvaro, the tendons and veins of his neck outlined beneath smooth olive skin as he continued to stare upwards. ¡°You see, I almost died when I was a boy. A fever they say. It should have taken me. It did take my brother. And my father. But I pulled through.¡± Lacrima, who had been staring down morosely into the water, humming to herself with a voice too soft to be heard by mortal ears, looked up then, and began listening to the doctor¡¯s story. ¡°It was my grandmother who watched over me during that time,¡± he continued. ¡°I don¡¯t remember it, but she told me that I often spoke of a woman who visited me during the night. She wore white, hooded robes and she had eyes like two red rubies. San Teresa de Avila, my grandmother said, her patron, was visiting my bedside to offer me her prayers. My grandmother began to leave her offerings outside of my bedroom after that, and soon, I awoke, healed and whole again.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°That¡¯s a beautiful story,¡± said Sid. ¡°Did you ever see her again? San Teresa?¡± Alvaro shook his head. ¡°No. Never again. My world was different after that. I had to grow up without my father, knowing that I was the only hope for our family. My grandmother told me that Teresa had given me a gift, and I must share it with the world.¡± He sighed, his shoulders deflating as he lowered his eyes from the sky. ¡°So I¡¯m here,¡± he said. ¡°To answer my calling.¡± Behind him, Lacrima rose to stand, her white dress flowing around her like delicate petals, glowing in the moonlight. ¡°You¡¯ve given up a lot to be here,¡± said Sid. ¡°Do you think it was worth it?¡± The doctor smiled warmly and chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s worth everything,¡± he said. ¡°This city¡­ It¡¯s amazing. The people, the food, the colors, the smells,¡± he inhaled deeply then, and catching a whiff of something sweet, began to search the darkness for its source. ¡°What is that?¡± he asked. ¡°That smell, it¡¯s like-¡± ¡°Jasmine?¡± offered Sid. ¡°Mariposa,¡± said Alvaro. ¡°Like my mother used to wear in her hair.¡± Sid nodded, understanding then that his job was almost finished. ¡°It is a beautiful city, isn¡¯t it? And you have yet to meet some of its most charming occupants. Dr. Garcia, there¡¯s someone I¡¯d like to introduce you to.¡± He gestured to the woman beside the fountain who stood watching them like a ghost in the pale moonlight. ¡°This is my employer. Lacrima Zepesh. The two of you would get along, I think.¡± Lacrima extended her hand. ¡°Dr. Garcia,¡± she said softly. ¡°A pleasure to meet you.¡± ¡°The pleasure is mine,¡± said the doctor, nearly tripping over his own feet as he moved to kiss her white hand. ¡°Lacrima. Such a beautiful name. Befitting of a princess.¡± ¡°Or a queen,¡± said Lacrima. ¡°You have lovely hands, doctor. Tell me, are you an artist, by chance?¡± Sid returned to the party, content that he had done what he could to pull his Mistress from her melancholy turn. Lately, it had become more difficult for him to shut out their connection, and he found himself feeling all of her moods as though they were his own, separated only by the gossamer film of their physical bodies. He wondered if this was a part of his ¡°sensitivity¡± as Lacrima had identified it, or if it was something he could share with only her. It wasn¡¯t all bad, though, he reflected as he listened to a slow, mournfully sweet melody led by the Miami orchestra¡¯s first chair violin. When she fed, a warm, contented feeling would pervade his thoughts, blunting the pangs of his own hunger. When she was hunting, as she was now, a playful excitement and a lust for life would mount within him. And when she fell into one of her many depressions, a hopeless and sorrowful desperation so deep and stormy that it threatened to pull him inside and rip him apart would cloud his mind. In these moments, he would have no choice but to attempt to lift her spirits, lest he be sucked down into a darkness of her design with no means to navigate his way home. On this particular evening, Sid did not feel his hunger so acutely, perhaps because the music and the moonlight painted the night in such lovely tones of blue and gray. He was preparing to leave alone, making his way to the carport where he would instruct the valet to call him a taxi, when Lacrima found him, clutching the arm of Dr. Garcia. ¡°Sid,¡± she said, the traces of laughter still lighting her lovely face. ¡°I¡¯m so glad I found you. The doctor¡¯s stories are so enchanting, I could stay out all night. But I¡¯m afraid I must retire.¡± She covered her mouth to stifle a yawn, and Sid could see the tips of her white fangs just starting to emerge. ¡°I hope we will meet again, Lacrima,¡± said Dr. Garcia. ¡°This is a beautiful country, but you have made it seem dull and colorless by comparison.¡± ¡°I hope so as well, doctor,¡± she said, allowing him to hold her small hand between his. ¡°Call me Alvaro,¡± he said. ¡°Alvaro,¡± she repeated. ¡°Call on me soon. Sid, leave Dr. Garcia with our address. I must say my goodbyes to the hostess.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± he said, doing his utmost not to betray his surprise at her forwardness. ¡°Certainly Mistress.¡± He scrawled the street address of their lair, where none had trespassed before who were not marked for death, onto a cocktail napkin, and he slipped away to get the car. el fin The next evening, Sid awoke to find a large bouquet of white roses wilting at the front gate, their blooms unfurled and withering. They must have been sitting in the heat for most of the day, but the damage lent them an ephemeral sort of beauty, and Lacrima beamed when she saw them. ¡°For the most elegant flower in the city,¡± she said, reading the card out loud as she preened over them in the parlor. ¡°Sid, he wants to take me to the opera tomorrow night. You know, I haven¡¯t been to the opera in decades. You¡¯ll have to help me pick out an outfit.¡± ¡°You¡¯re going?¡± he said, still bleary from sleep. ¡°For real, you¡¯re going to go¡­ like on a date?¡± She looked at him as though he had asked if she were really going shopping or taking a midnight stroll through the garden. ¡°Yeah. Like on a date. I was thinking of wearing lilac,¡± she said. ¡°I know, I know. Black is more traditional. But everyone will be wearing it. Lilac will stand out. Like a debutante at a funeral.¡± ¡°Yeah, ok,¡± he said, uncertain as to her true intent. ¡°The opera should be great. Want me to arrange a car?¡± ¡°Not necessary,¡± she said, delicately cupping a wide bloom in her fingertips. ¡°I¡¯ll let him secure the details. Call and tell him I¡¯ll be ready by nine.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± said Sid. ¡°No problem. I¡¯ll just tell your little crush that he can swing by the house after sundown. Maybe we can invite him in too, serve some cocktails and assorted hors d¡¯oeuvres.¡± ¡°That seems a bit premature, don¡¯t you think? It¡¯s only our first date,¡± she said as she ascended the stairs. ¡°We barely know each other right now.¡± ¡°First? Did you just say first date?¡± Sid called as he followed after her. ¡°As in the first in a series?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, Sid,¡± she said from her walk-in closet, her voice muffled by the walls and the layers of clothes between them. ¡°Maybe. God, I know it¡¯s been a while, but surely you know how these things work.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, rounding the corner to find her leafing through a rack of evening gowns. ¡°I know how first dates work. I didn¡¯t think that was how they work for us, though. Lacrima, what the hell? Since when do we do this?¡± ¡°Do what?¡± she said, holding a flowing purple gown with a Grecian inspired neckline against her body. ¡°We don¡¯t tell people where we go to ground. We don¡¯t invite them over and then kiss them goodnight. We meet them, we feed, or we don¡¯t,¡± he said. ¡°Either way, we forget their names and we hope they forget ours. That¡¯s what we¡¯ve always done.¡± ¡°We?¡± she said as she examined her reflection in a full-length mirror. ¡°We aren¡¯t doing anything, are we?¡± Sid felt her words like a barb caught just beneath his skin. They had been together for almost five years now, and despite Lacrima¡¯s inscrutable moments, he had come to think of them as partners. But maybe their relationship was not as simple as it had seemed. Or maybe it was, and he had simply been reading too much into their contract. He left her then to preen and fuss over the exact combination of designer accessories to pair with the dozens of gowns she would try on. Normally, this was something she enlisted his help with, but her words had left him feeling sour, hurt, and just a little bit empty. Instead, Sid retired to his garden, where he sat amongst his herbs and flowers and roots and listened to the sounds of the cicadas. The goddam children of the night, he thought. What terribly mundane music they make. Not long after their first encounter, the doctor and Lacrima¡¯s relationship began to deepen. She started seeing him 3 night a week, leaving early in the evening and returning just before dawn. Then, Dr. Garcia began to come by the house. Sid would find them lounging in the sunken living room or beside the azure swimming pool, Lacrima laughing and tossing her hair flirtatiously while the Doctor¡¯s hands fidgeted nervously with whatever objects were within his reach. He grinned and stammered in her presence like a child, Sid thought disdainfully one night when he came upon them sitting in his garden. What in god¡¯s name could she have seen in him? ¡°Sid,¡± Lacrima called when she spied him heading back towards the house. ¡°Sid, come listen. Alvaro¡¯s reading me something quite lovely.¡± Reluctantly, Sid obeyed, and joined them on the wicker lawn furniture he¡¯d arranged between the leafy palms and plots of thriving herbs. The pair were seated on a loveseat with a single candle burning between them. Sid selected a chair opposite them and surveyed the two over steepled fingers. ¡°It¡¯s Neruda,¡± she said. ¡°Alvaro, read that last stanza again, would you?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± he said, scanning the pages of a well-worn little book with unremarkable brown binding. ¡°Here it is. The Doctor scanned the page and began reading in Spanish, enunciating the words of the poem slowly, his clumsy hands suddenly still as Lacrima watched him, her face like a stone. The candle light flickered and reflected green in her eyes, and for a moment, Sid felt the meaning of the poem in a way he found difficult to quantify. There was a pull between them in that quiet moment, as if the words had cast a spell, revealing an essential piece of Alvaro. Now it loomed between them, wholly naked and vulnerable before this cunning and predatory creature. In Lacrima, he sensed a tension. She could smell it like blood in the water, but for some reason, she had yet to pounce. ¡°El no entiende,¡± said Lacrima. ¡°In English, perhaps?¡± ¡°I understand,¡± Sid corrected. ¡°Perfectly.¡± He excused himself then, having seen all that he cared to see. The game progressed as summer turned to winter, the change in season remarkable only by the occasional evergreen trussed up in red and gold in the shop windows around town. For Sid, the holiday season was bittersweet, reminding him of rituals once shared with friends and family, now synonymous with long, mild nights full of lonely nostalgic strangers. The Solstice, which used to be a time of so much promise, was now a night to thank the Goddess for the bounty she had provided, and to say goodbye as the long nights gave way to a prevailing sun. Despite himself, Sid became accustomed to having Alvaro around, listening like a fly on the wall as he shared his stories of life in the Miami city hospital with Lacrima in animated fashion. He began to see that although Alvaro was young and lacking in the experience of his peers, he did indeed have a gift for the healing arts that even he failed to fully grasp. Once he told them he convinced a little girl on the precipice of death that if she could just find the strength to wait for the snow to blanket the city, she could ask God for any Christmas wish she wanted. ¡°She had her last chemotherapy treatment today,¡± he said, holding a glass of Lacrima¡¯s favorite red in one hand, his other arm wrapped around her shoulders. She appeared to be asleep, her head lying on his chest, her eyes closed as she drew in long, steady breaths. ¡°She will live, I think. Long enough that she can see as many snow-covered days as she wants. Provided she leaves this town, that is.¡± ¡°Alvaro,¡± said Sid. ¡°Have you ever thought of leaving? Going to another town, another state. Maybe one where the sun isn¡¯t quite so brutal.¡± ¡°Another town?¡± he said slowly, as though the thought were like a foreign concept to him. ¡°No. I could never go. There is¡­ There¡¯s too much for me to leave behind here.¡± Lacrima¡¯s eyes opened, and she stared at Sid through narrowed slits. No, she said. Leave him be, baby-bat. As always, he obeyed, though even then, he knew the consequences. But the slow deterioration had already begun. What was the point in fighting the tide for a man who may as well have already drowned? The changes were subtle at first, only recognizable when he stumbled over his words or lost his train of thought in the middle of one of his meandering stories. Alvaro¡¯s decline could only be chronicled in the things that went missing: the spring in his limbs as he awakened from a daydream, the sweets that he would no longer consume when Lacrima refused them, and the light that never faded completely, but ceased to spark except for when his new Mistress called to him. Alvaro was dying, his life draining slowly away as an ancient monster took her sustenance. Sid hoped and prayed that it would end soon, his heart aching like a phantom limb as he watched Alvaro grow grayer. All the while, Lacrima became more vibrant. Her once tempestuous mood swings steadied, her spirits lifted, and she ceased to leave the big house on the water, preferring instead to take her meals within its walls. Alvaro too began to spend even more time with them, and in the spring, he seemed to move in completely, leaving only for the short daily trips he would take to the hospital. Just before then end, he remembered seeing them together, the two of them strolling the perimeter of the property. Lacrima was laughing, the musical sound of it carrying in the humid night air. Alvaro hobbled behind her, moving as fast as his wasted legs would carry him, the same stupid, child-like smile plastered across his face. In those moments, Sid could almost convince himself that none of it mattered. Whatever else was happening between them, they were bringing each other happiness. Regardless of the shapes and textures, was it really his place to police that?Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. On one of his last nights, Sid found the Doctor sitting in his garden, mindlessly prodding a patch of new earth in front of the bloodroot Sid had planted one week back. His once smooth, youthful skin was dry and discolored, his thick hair now thinning and gray at the temples. ¡°Alvaro,¡± said Sid as he approached him from the house. ¡°You¡¯re still here. Did you go home? To sleep?¡± Alvaro shook his head vigorously. ¡°No¡­ Nonononono. Can¡¯t go home. Can¡¯t go home and leave her here. Alone.¡± ¡°Alone?¡± said Sid, taking slow steps as though Alvaro were a starving, stray dog. ¡°She has me. She¡¯s not alone.¡± ¡°No.¡± He shook his head again, this time jumping up from the loveseat with the thick palm leaves draping over the back. ¡°She needs me. You¡­ You¡¯re like her. You sleep during the day. You can¡¯t protect her when the sun rises.¡± Sid nodded. ¡°Yes, I understand,¡± he said placatingly. ¡°It¡¯s good that you were here.¡± He lowered himself into the chair opposite Alvaro, and the Doctor followed suit on his loveseat. The two men sat in the little garden, the remnants of the sun still glowing along the horizon, and Sid felt the desperation in Alvaro as the very last pieces of him clawed for the surface. ¡°Have you seen your son lately?¡± asked Sid. ¡°He must be getting old enough to start speaking, right? I thought you were planning a visit soon.¡± Again, he shook his head. ¡°No, I haven¡¯t seen him. I won¡¯t. I can¡¯t. My work here is much too important.¡± ¡°You¡¯re work,¡± Sid repeated. ¡°How is that? Do you still go to the hospital?¡± At that, he nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve gone. I go. I was there today. Or yesterday. I don¡¯t remember. That¡¯s when I found the child.¡± ¡°The child?¡± said Sid. ¡°What child?¡± ¡°The baby,¡± he said as though it were just so simple. ¡°The one born with the little heart. It wouldn¡¯t beat, no matter how much it was coaxed.¡± He stared down at the dirt turned loose between his feet. ¡°I felt the life drain from it as I held it in my hands. I felt it die, and I thought¡­ This is our child.¡± He looked up at Sid then with madness glimmering in his dark eyes. ¡°She always wanted one, you know. Did she ever tell you? About the babies? The ones that didn¡¯t make it.¡± ¡°No,¡± said Sid. ¡°She never told me about them.¡± ¡°They passed away. Before she could even hold them, they were gone. Do you know what that must be like?¡± Sid didn¡¯t speak, but watched the golden glow on the horizon turn to a lavender haze. ¡°Do you?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± he said, nodding. ¡°No. I only know what she shows me anymore. She¡¯s everything now. In my head, she¡¯s¡­ She¡­ I can¡¯t shut her out.¡± Sid nodded again. ¡°Alvaro,¡± he said after a long pause. ¡°You should go home. And you shouldn¡¯t come back. If you can.¡± Alvaro looked at him, the madness fading from his face, replaced by a dull sadness. ¡°I want to,¡± he said. ¡°Sometimes more than anything else.¡± ¡°Then do it,¡± said Sid. ¡°She¡¯s going to kill you.¡± He was not accustomed to using his gift on people so overtly, but the spell that Lacrima had cast was like an invisible steel web. Alvaro was reaching out, but Sid would have to tear through his bonds using brute force. ¡°Run, Alvaro. Run far away.¡± Alvaro stood up again and looked around urgently, the missing spring in his movements temporarily restored as he took a series of halting steps towards the purple horizon. Don¡¯t stop, urged Sid. Not until you¡¯re at home in your bed. Sleep. And forget her name. He sat and watched as Alvaro limped out of view, his shadow becoming smaller and smaller, until at last, the deepening darkness swallowed him up. He would be safe now, thought Sid, provided he did as he was told. A short while later, the sky began to weep, and distant peels of thunder boomed across the water. Lacrima emerged from the house wearing a long white night robe, her eyes flashing green, her black hair uncombed and disheveled. Sid knew immediately that what he had done was unforgivable to her, and even the sky seemed to reflect her rage. The wind picked up, stirring the leaves of the plants around him and whipping drops of stinging rain against his face. ¡°Where is he?¡± she demanded, her bare, white feet seeming to float above the soft ground as she crossed the space between them. ¡°What did you do to him?¡± ¡°I couldn¡¯t watch anymore,¡± said Sid, raising his voice against the howling sea breeze. ¡°I let him go.¡± ¡°He was MINE,¡± she said, driving the last word into his brain like a brutal spike. ¡°You had no right.¡± Tears began to fall from her glowing eyes, mingling with the drops of rain that fell against her cheeks. She might kill him, Sid thought as she loomed over him, seeming impossibly giant and terrible. Lightening flashed in the sky above her, and Sid recalled the night they met, when she had allowed him to glimpse what she was: a perfect creature not of this earth but of the next, wholly removed from the passage of time but choosing to dwell within its tides. She had chosen him to walk beside her through the darkness, and he was hers for however long she would have him. If this was the end, it had all been worth it. Sid readied himself for the blow, fully prepared to have his heart rend from his chest by this beautiful monster, when suddenly the wind began to calm. Sid felt Lacrima¡¯s rage and anger collapse, falling down into a yawning chasm of despair inside her heart. Her bare feet sunk into the muddy ground, her hair fell in lank strands over her face, and she crumpled down onto the loveseat behind her. ¡°I have nothing, Sid,¡± she whispered. ¡°All these years¡­ Eternity. For nothing.¡± Sid ran to her and took her in his arms, his heart breaking for her as she wept into his chest. ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s not true. You have me.¡± She looked at him with her deep brown eyes and stroked his face. ¡°Yes, my love. I have you. My sweet baby-bat who feels so much of their pain. How can you stand it?¡± ¡°I just practice, I guess,¡± he said. ¡°It gets easier.¡± ¡°You keep me here, Sid,¡± she said, her eyes fixed on the fresh earth now a drenched and muddy puddle. ¡°When I want nothing more than to join them, you take my pain.¡± ¡°Join who?¡± asked Sid. ¡°Who are they, Lacrima?¡± ¡°They were born to the world only to die in my arms. Their graves are an ocean and a lifetime away from here.¡± She smiled, still staring down into the pool of dirty water between her feet. ¡°The first of them almost took me with her, and I would have gone willingly. I was still human then, and my husband decided that rather than let me pass into the shadows of death, he would give me his gift. And with it, he tied me to this earth and to him, cursing me to wander the night.¡± She looked up from the water-logged grave and for the first time since he¡¯d known her, Sid could see beyond the mask to what she was: a broken spirit, just as he had been when she had found him. ¡°I used to sit beside the place where they were buried and sing to them,¡± she continued. ¡°I don¡¯t know if they ever heard me, but it made me feel a little less¡­¡± ¡°Lost,¡± said Sid, pulling her closer as she began to shiver. ¡°Alvaro brought her here,¡± she said. ¡°A sweet little girl just like mine, with a heart too soft to beat in this world. He told me to sing to her, and maybe mine will hear it too.¡± Sid nodded. ¡°Of course they can,¡± he said, doing his best to make her believe it. ¡°Wherever they are, they can hear you. They know.¡± She pulled away from him and fixed him with an incredulous stare. ¡°You say these things because you don¡¯t know, Sid. You don¡¯t see it, even now.¡± ¡°See what, Lacrima? What am I supposed to see?¡± ¡°Life can never come from death,¡± she said, a bitter smile forming on her lips. ¡°I¡¯ll never have the chance to create it again. Wherever my children are, I pray that it¡¯s far away from me. My only purpose now is destruction.¡± Destruction, thought Sid, of course. All of her games and all of her exploits had been to that end. But did it have to be, he wondered? Though he lived in the night, the sun-worshipping plants he tended thrived. Maybe they could find a way to balance their voracious appetites if they could just stave off their darker compulsions. ¡°Alvaro was a good man,¡± said Sid. ¡°You didn¡¯t need to do what you did.¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t I?¡± she hissed with flashing eyes and extended fangs. ¡°You say he was a good man, but he was still just a man; prone to base instincts and lusts that rule even the purest heart. Do you know what they do when they¡¯re done with you, Sid? They leave you, turn you to dust, and they scatter your ashes so that every piece of you is erased from the earth.¡± ¡°So you kill them first,¡± said Sid, not sure exactly who or what she was talking about. ¡°And they never leave.¡± ¡°You unmake them,¡± she said emphatically. ¡°You strip away the layers of humanity, the trappings and airs they wear to seem like more than the fragile animals they are, and then, before the last, sometimes you catch a glimpse of it.¡± She looked out towards the horizon where Alvaro had disappeared. ¡°They¡¯re so beautiful like that. If only you knew.¡± Sid followed her eyes and tried to imagine what she meant. He had never quite understood what he had felt between them when Alvaro had read his love poem, but he had sensed that it was something that ran deeper in a man than blood and bone. If there was ever such a thing as a soul, perhaps that was what he sensed in Alvaro, waking up and rising from a long slumber beneath the ground. Was that what she wanted from him, why she had played such an elaborate game? ¡°I need him Sid,¡± she said softly. ¡°Please. Bring him back to me.¡± Sid sighed, desperately wishing he could ignore her, walk away, and leave her to her life of chaos and destruction. But he couldn¡¯t, not just because she had saved him from an existence filled with loneliness and death, but because in spite of the storms that raged in her heart, he had come to love this monster. ¡°Go to him and give him this,¡± he said, reaching into his pocket to find a small bag of powder. ¡°He¡¯ll be yours again, and you can do what you want.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± she said. She took the powder from him and stood facing the horizon where Alvaro had disappeared. ¡°I won¡¯t make you watch, Sid. And I¡¯ll do it quickly.¡± Sid never asked what became of Alvaro after that, and he did his best to block out the creeping thoughts that tried to worm their way in during his waking hours. But in his dreams, the images found their way past his defenses, and he could see Alvaro, naked, gray, and wasted, clinging to the body of his Goddess. The drugs were only a formality, something to lower his fragile inhibitions enough to revive Lacrima¡¯s carefully laid enchantments. Then, as she coaxed out whatever it was she needed from him, his weak heart, which had been failing from the stress of her games, would succumb to the side effects, hastening his inevitable end. His friends and family would find him like that, alone and decaying after Lacrima left him, and they would ask an endless series of questions. How did this happen? Why? And what god would allow a man called to heal the sick to die alone and in such a meaningless way? Ultimately, their search for answers would never be satisfied, because thanks to Sid, they would never think to ask about the Goddess of Death who lived in the house on the water. Sid would be her protector, secret keeper, servant, and savior for as long as she would be his and longer, forever keeping her from the brutal daylight and the throngs of humanity that couldn¡¯t understand the beauty of decay.