Magic in the Moonlight

I looked around at the mound of documents and hoped (for the dozenth time today) that I could flee to the Bahamas. I grinned as I recalled my lunchtime phone talk with my closest buddy earlier in the day. I'd tell him if I went missing that afternoon to start searching on the white sand beaches of Nassau since I was sick to death of the audit at work and anxious about the full day of meetings I had booked for tomorrow. He'd laughed and reminded me that I had a week of vacation coming up as soon as the auditors left.

I would have told him I loved him if I had known that was the final time I would ever see him. Oh, not anymore, not for a long time. But Samuel Nash was the most influential person in my life. He'd been my boyfriend for several years. When that didn't work, what bothered us the most was the prospect of losing our close relationship. Samuel and I made a pact that no matter how tough or distressing the issue was, we would work through it together. He'd been my best buddy since then.

I began rummaging through the heaps of material on my coffee table, wishing I could just walk away from it all. I worked at a cement firm as an accountant and financial analyst. I'd been there for approximately six years, and it felt like the longer I stayed, the more bullshit I had to deal with. I'd been assigned to deal with a bunch of sales tax auditors who were making my life a living hell.

Sales tax auditors only came out once every three years, rather than once a year. I'd heard that some businesses never had to deal with them at all. That, I attribute to heresy and wild conjecture. I'd been handed a list of invoices that the auditors required copies of, and most of them were nearly three years old. All except two had been located. I collapsed on the couch and debated with myself after concluding that the missing bills were not lying in the stack I'd previously sorted twice.

I had a solid notion of where those bills may be kept, but it entailed returning to the office. I was largely prepared for tomorrow's meeting with the executives to finalize the budget specifics. Perhaps I could look for the bills in the morning?

No.

If I was correct, those bills were buried in the basement file room, and there was no way I was going to dig through that muck without looking like something the Swamp Thing vomited up on New Year's Eve. I groaned and dragged myself off the couch. I needed to change my clothing before poking about in the basement at work, which I dubbed the Basement of Horror. I returned to my room and changed into an old, tattered pair of pants that had seen better days. The t-shirt I was wearing had a stain on my left breast from spilling red sangria a few months before, so it'd suffice. I stuffed my feet into my old shoes, grabbed my keys, and walked out to my vehicle.

The apartment building was peaceful. It was a little community with largely senior residents, including me. I'm not that ancient, but I turned forty-three earlier this year, so I fit right in around here. On the top level of my three-story building, I had a spacious two-bedroom flat. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but it was constructed in the 1970s and the apartments were almost soundproof. My neighbors were kind enough, but we largely avoided each other.

My workplace was just a short distance away. I'd always thought it was strange to see a two-story office building amid a field. There were a few homes here and there, but it was mostly agricultural and desolate. The firm had elected to establish the headquarters out here rather than in town to be near the stone quarry and mixing plant that functioned as our operational hub. I didn't mind the surroundings during the day, but when the sun set, the empty environment increased the spook factor.

I parked adjacent to the administration building and carefully secured my vehicle before entering. My parents had taught me that it was better to be cautious than sorry, even if I came from a tiny town. It was strange how missing them would occasionally come as a surprise to me. My father died while I was in my early twenties, but my mother had only been gone a few months.

A new wave of anguish washed over me as I remembered her. I wished I'd picked up my baseball bat and taken it with me out here in the middle of nowhere, with the moon just starting to rise. It was a Christmas present from my mother a few years ago. When I first moved into my apartment, she was concerned that someone would break in and "do awful things" to me.

We'd all laughed as I opened it, but my mother had looked me in the eyes and said solemnly, "Elizabeth Anne Summers, I'd want you to swear to keep the bat next to your bed. I don't want some sheriff appearing on my doorway telling me you're gone because you couldn't defend yourself."

"Yes, Momma, I promise." Since then, I've kept the bat next to my bed.

The agony of loss faded as I opened the front door and entered the building. It seemed strangely silent when no one was present. As I walked up to my office on the second level, I flicked on every light switch I passed. I might have had the bills in my file cabinet. It was worth a look if I could avoid going to the Basement of Horror.

I realized my final hope of success was below in the subterranean file room after twenty minutes of futile searching. I took the key from the wall-mounted storage cabinet and went down to the first level. The basement door was left open, which was not uncommon. It was never shut down. The rear door of the office was slightly ajar, which was unusual. I grimaced as I examined it. When the cleaning woman departed, she must not have locked it. The locks were a pain in the arse, and I had frequent issues with them. Before heading down the basement steps, I tightened the door and double-checked the latch.

I hated these stairs. They were abhorrent. They were small and steep, with very shallow tread. I was constantly afraid of falling since the step was thinner than my foot. I stretched out to grasp the banister to protect myself from sliding, but I stopped before I closed my palm over it. It was a million years old black iron pipe that had been coated dark green. I don't believe it had ever been cleaned, and I considered whether it would be more painful to fall to my death or to get a contagious lethal illness from the railing.

Because my t-shirt had long sleeves, I grasped the cuff and pulled it over my hand before grabbing the rail.

I shivered once and then gently started down the steps. The fragrance swept over me about halfway down. Mildew, stagnant water, and a hazy thread of sewage ran through the air, making it terrible to breathe. The whole structure had been refurbished a few years previously, but since the basement was mainly used for storage, it had been allowed to decay in peace.

I turned on the light at the foot of the stairs and rolled my eyes at the toilet in the corner. The nasty thing was still connected up and overflowed whenever it rained heavily. Who the heck would have utilized that item in the first place? I had no idea why it was there at all.

The floor, window sills, and a few abandoned, broken chairs were all coated in dust. It increased the creep factor, so I dashed across that room and went to the file room's closed door. When I took the key from my pocket to insert it into the padlock, I saw something was wrong. The padlock and hasp that kept the door shut had been torn completely off! "What the fuck?" I thought as the door swung abruptly inward, revealing someone standing just inside the file room.

As the guy walked through the door and grabbed me, I screamed in astonishment and panic. It was no one I'd ever seen before. As one of his hands curled around my neck and hoisted me up, I got a good look at him. He wasn't particularly tall, yet he had no trouble pulling me off the floor, although I was several inches taller and much heavier. He had a pale, pale complexion, immaculate white hair, and black eyes. I attempted to get his fingers off my neck so I could breathe, but I couldn't obtain any leverage since my feet were hanging off the ground.

"It's kind of you to drop by. I was just about to start thinking about dinner, and you'll do just fine."

I was soaring through the air the next thing I knew. My body burst into anguish as I collided with the concrete wall. I found it difficult to move. I needed to go away. I got up on my hands and knees and tried to stand.

His knee crashed into the middle of my back, pinning me to the ground and depriving me of the last of my air. My chest ached, and several of my ribs seemed fractured. He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, arching my upper body off the floor.

"Doesn't that hurt?" he snarled in my ear. "It'll hurt a lot more before I'm done."

He dug deep furrows of burning hot anguish with his fingertips up the side of my neck. He touched the wounds with the tips of his fingers and showed me the bleeding consequences. As he licked his fingers clean, my body trembled uncontrollably.

"That's exactly what I want to see. It's lovely and crimson, and it tastes delicious. It's the anguish, you know. Your body is producing a lot of adrenaline right now, which makes your blood taste even better."

The jerk was on my back, but I'd played soccer in high school and knew how to utilize my brain. As he relaxed his grasp on my hair, I was able to press one elbow on the floor. I managed to lower my head an inch before slamming it backward with all I had. It wasn't much, but it was a start. He screamed when the back of my head collided with his jaw, and I rolled just enough to get him off my back.

"How dare you, you fucking cunt!"

I was immediately soaring through the air again. When I struck this time, I heard my arm snap. As anguish rushed through me, I yelled. I couldn't think of anything. I couldn't take a breath. I began to weep, unable to stop the tears from falling down my cheeks. It ached like hell. I'd hardly touched the ground when he yanked me to my feet. When I saw his fangs, I don't think my brain trusted my eyes, but then he bent and buried them into my neck.

I heard his voice in my thoughts as he began to feed. "You are so delicious," he murmured, and "your blood is so sweet." I trembled in terror as images formed in my head. They belonged to another girl, a young woman with long brown hair. He was sucking on her neck in the same way that he was sucking on mine. She screamed the whole time till she passed out. He smiled as he snapped her neck, then walked away, dropping her into a garbage can.

I realized then that there was no way out. I thought I was going to die. And I started to pray with what little power I had.

"Our Father, who art in Heaven..."

My words were so weak that I couldn't make them out. Even whispering them took effort. My assailant yanked his lips away from me and screamed. My blood covered his face, and the incisions in my neck were pouring profusely.

"Hallowed be Thy name..."

As he whirled away from me, he dropped me and covered his ears. As I landed, I saw two guys seize him and slam him headfirst into the wall. The power of the strike fractured and broke the concrete blocks. My attacker was yanked out of the wall by one of the guys, who pinned his arms behind his back. He was knocked out cold when the other guy hit him in the face. The guy rushed forward quickly and seized my attacker's jaw with one hand and the base of his head with the other. I was struggling to keep my eyes open, but the swift motion that cracked his neck was clear. The guy who was holding him threw the corpse on the ground.

"We'd better tackle him, too. I don't want to take any chances."

He walked to a derelict wooden pallet in the corner and yanked a slat off. My eyes were tired and the world was growing darker, but I pushed myself to stare as the guy drove the wood into my attacker's chest. I couldn't keep my eyes open once it was finished, and the world was reduced to sound and anguish.

"I don't believe she'll make it." One of them was caressing me, and the agony forced me to whimper. "She had many fractured bones, and he bit her."

"Look, yeah." As they examined my neck, a soft hand moved my head "He got her. You know, if we don't do anything and she dies as a result of this, she'll rise again."

"It is not permitted. We just cannot do it."

Will I grow up to be like him? Was he a vampire or not? My intellect resisted the concept, but I couldn't take the prospect of becoming like him. No, please, dear God. It was difficult to speak, terribly difficult... but they had to know I didn't want to end up that way.

"Please do not allow this to happen. Stake me as well."

"We're not going to let that happen," a kind palm brushed my locks from my brow.

I forced my eyes open and watched as one of the guys slashed his wrist with a pocket knife. He put his wrist to my lips. I wanted to fight, but I couldn't. I could taste his blood on my lips.

"No, not like him."

"You won't be, I promise. You drink some of mine, I drink some of yours and you're going to be just fine. Not like him, I promise. Trust me, just take a little bit."

I could feel his fingers touching my neck. I attempted to tell him, no, but his wrist was in the way. I could taste blood, but I couldn't tell if it was mine or his. He drank my blood with his fingers on his lips.

"Come on, love, just a little more."

I sucked the blood from his wrist reluctantly. It hurt my mouth but tasted deliciously sweet. As I swallowed, I could hear something snarling. That made no sense. I managed to tilt my head just enough to see a large growling wolf face to face. He sprang and buried his fangs into my shoulder as soon as my brain noticed the wolf.

Fortunately, the world went black.

It was warm and dimly lit. Quiet. I could hear something beeping faintly in the background, but it was far away and didn't bother me. I went back to sleep.

But I had the strangest dream. I was growling on my hands and knees in a hospital bed. The guy from the basement, the one who forced me to drink his blood, was present. He was assuring me not to worry because no one was going to harm me. He continued speaking to me in this calming, gentle tone, but I was furious. Why? What has gone wrong? But he advised me to sleep again, which seemed like a nice idea, so I cuddled up on the bed. My tail beat a few times on the bed before I fell asleep again.

Wait. My tail?

I pushed my eyes open again, perplexed. White walls, shady windows, a faint beeping, and a stench could only be described as a hospital. When I glanced down, I saw an IV in my left arm. My right arm seemed to be in a cast. I tried wiggling my butt in the bed, but nothing moved. Even yet, I couldn't detect a tail. Just a dream, I thought as I fell back asleep.

I wasn't as drowsy the following time I woke up. I wasn't high as a kite on whatever they were giving me for pain relief.

He couldn't have died then. What in the world happened?

I rummaged through my recollections of that night, and the more I thought about it, the stranger it seemed. There was no way a vampire could have attacked me. Is there anything like that? And whence had those two men appeared? There had been a wolf there as well. That couldn't possibly be what occurred. I must have been involved in a vehicle accident on my way home. That made perfect sense. A car accident. The other thing had to be a dream because of all the drugs I felt in my system.

Vampires don't exist, I told myself emphatically. It had all been a dream. If it had been a vampire, I'd be one too, right? Did I have a strong want for blood? I gave it significant thought before concluding that I didn't appear to be interested in it. Although I was starving, blood did not seem to be my favored food. I could need a pizza, which I doubt I'd be able to find in my hospital room. I considered looking for a call button, but it seemed like too much work.

But he bit my neck, didn't he? I groped tentatively for my neck. The entrance to my room opened just as my fingers brushed over the gauze bandage. A charming young guy walked in, holding a binder that had to contain my chart. He was dressed in pastel blue scrubs beneath a white lab coat and had a stethoscope around his neck. He should be wearing a neon sign that says, "Doctor here!"

"Ah, you're finally awake! I thought perhaps you might be." He smiled at me as he put my chart down on the bedside table and sat on the edge of my bed. "I'm Dr. Scott. How are you feeling today?"

"Everything seems to hurt, but it's not too bad. But I'm not in a rush to go out and party." My stomach grumbled angrily. "I'm guessing you don't have pizza around here? I'm pretty hungry, as I'm sure you just heard."

He burst out laughing "There will be no pizza for you for the time being. When they brought you in, you were a very ill young girl. Before we order the pizza, I want to be sure you'll be able to keep it down. To begin, how about some orange Jell-O?"

"Yes, certainly," I wrinkled my nose, "that sounds utterly delightful." "So, who precisely brought me in here, and what happened to me?" I worriedly bit on my bottom lip.

Dr. Scott stopped, and I saw him carefully considering his response. "You were brought in by some friends. Do you have any recollection of what happened?"

I began to shake my head, but the agony caused me to rethink "No, not at all. I mean, I believe I recall some of it. But it seems so strange that I'm not sure I recall it accurately. What occurred?" There was no way a vampire could have attacked me. Telling him that would very certainly place me in a mental institution.

My hand was gripped by the doctor "Don't worry about it. In situations like yours, some disorientation and memory loss is common. I'm sure your pals will be able to clear everything up for you. Let's have a peek at you now."

He took my pulse and looked me in the eyes with his penlight. Then he walked around the bed, poking my feet and insisting that I twitch my fingers and toes. I considered giving him the bird with the hand that wasn't in a cast, but it didn't seem very nice, so I held back. I was scared to inquire what was wrong with me, but I needed to know.

"Dr. Scott? Am I going to be okay? Is any of this permanent?"

He smirked slightly "You had several fractured bones and some internal bleeding, but those injuries are mending and I don't think there was any lasting damage done. You have a dozen stitches in your neck and will most likely have bruises all over for a time. When you arrived, you were in fairly bad condition. You may express gratitude to your friends for saving your life. You would not be here if it weren't for them."

What friends? He must be referring to the two guys from the basement who dragged my attacker away from me. Without the anguish and panic of that night interfering with my capacity to think, I didn't even recognize them, though one of them looked slightly familiar. However, I was unable to positively identify either of them.

"How long have I been here and when will I be able to leave? No offense intended. I'm sure you're great, but I'd prefer to go home."

He grinned, but it never reached his eyes. "Keep the orange Jell-O down, heal a little more, and I'll see what I can do. Looks like you'll need another pint or two." He touched my IV stand's empty bag. There had been blood. A large bag of transparent material hung next to it. "You sustained some significant injuries, not to mention the fractured arm and blood loss. Give it a couple more days and see how it goes, okay?."

With a put-upon, dramatic sigh, I replied, "Alright, but the orange Jell-O better be damn tasty."

He laughed and adjusted the drip on the small, clear bag, "I'll see what I can do. For now, get some rest, and the Jell-O will be waiting, I promise."

As he walked out of my room, I was already dozing off. That transparent bag wasn't only saline; it also seemed to contain pain relievers. With no other option, I squirmed about a little till I was largely comfortable. I was falling asleep when I remembered he hadn't informed me how long I'd been in the hospital.