The Kill

Lex was there for me and he helped me get through many of those first awful shocks and he showed me how to survive in the Court of the Crimson King. But there are some things you have to learn alone.

My first few days as a vampire were sort of a waking nightmare. The plane trip back to New York from Nassau barely registered. I only clearly remember one moment, wondering if I would pass customs or if my undead nature would somehow tip them off. It almost did.

They had a dog at the x-ray machines, sitting and watching the people walk through the metal detectors. Even though we were leaving JFK and the dog was watching the flow of traffic on the other side it stood up suddenly, its whole body strung tight as a wire. It growled low in its throat, something felt more than heard. It would have been impossible to pick out its rumbling snarl from the white noise of footsteps and announcements and conversation, but I could almost feel the dog focus on me.

The handler was looking around trying to spot what the dog had picked up. He was looking mostly at the sheep filing through the metal detector. How could he not see me? I felt like a spotlight had been trained on me, picking me out, outlining me in light. I don’t know what would have happened if I’d been alone.

Of course, there was no way Sayre would have sent me back to New York alone. We both knew I would have bolted. Or killed myself. A can toi who called himself Judas (whose mother – if things like him had them – must have really hated him), and another vampire like me, named Arnold, walked on either side of me.

Judas turned and looked at the dog, grinning. It might’ve been the electric blue zoot suit that made my eyes water, or how it clashed with the coat so yellow I decided it must be the color of a migraine, but I felt it was more. Just like I could feel the dog’s intent on us, I felt it snap back out from Judas. I saw the dog tremble like just-struck tuning fork, even its tail held rigid. I imagined a wire tightening around its throat, choking it like Darth Vader in those movies.

The dog whined and ignored the handler who was talking to it and tugging its leash, and then it sagged, dropping to the floor and tucking its tail between its legs. I felt Judas give the dog’s mind another twist, like a bully yanking a smaller boy’s arm just a little more, even after he’s cried uncle, and then he let go.

That was the only clear thing that stood out until I met Lex. I remember I kept rubbing my eyes as if that could make the colors come back. But no matter how hard I knuckled my straining eyes, everything remained muted, even the garish colors worn by the Low Men. The only thing that really stood out in those first days were the dark blue auras around Arnold and the other vampires.

I began learning the basics from Lex, trying to choke down the ugly reality of the Crimson King, can toi, and taheen. I stayed in an apartment down Lexington from the Dixie Pig with Arnold. He’d go out and ask if I wanted to come and I’d refuse. I didn’t want any part of whatever he was doing. Until I started to get sick.

With each passing day I felt like I was sinking into the ground. I couldn’t seem to straighten my back all the way and lifting my head took too much concentration and effort to bother with. My hands started to shake. I knew that Lex and his friends (people he called his ka-tet, a term I’d come to understand, and a damned circle which I would come to be a part of), noticed. I wondered if I was dying and I hoped I was. And I wondered if they were going to kill me for being so useless, and I hoped they were.

There came a day when I tried to run. I was afraid of being a vampire and I was afraid of all these creatures who were my only company. I regretted leaving Lex, he seemed like a nice…thing, but I couldn’t stand it any more. I knew that they were watching me, that they would follow me, and maybe kill me. I didn’t care.

I headed back to my penthouse on 38^th to the surprise of my doorman. I brushed by him without a word and drug myself up to my rooms. I was going to lie down and sleep for a century. And unless it was to find that this had all been an elaborate nightmare, like a prank carried on too long, I didn’t want to wake up.

It felt like it took an hour just to cross the room to my bed. I stood in front of it, feeling empty, hollow. I felt that when I fell forward onto the thousand dollar sheets that I might shatter like a porcelain doll. The doorbell rang and for a moment I thought it was those faint chimes that sometimes sounded in the back of my mind. Through the door I heard a faint voice calling.

“James? James are you back? Dennis said he just saw you downstairs.” I turned slowly towards the door. A key scraped in the lock and then the doorknob turned. I hadn’t set the chain.

Rachel came through, looking right and left. I’d been dating her for about a month, a real New York beauty. She was tall, blonde, and had huge fake tits. I couldn’t remember if I’d gotten bored of her yet. I was surprised at the concern in her voice.

“James? Ja- Oh my God! James, what happened to you?” She ran across the penthouse and wrapped her arms around me, pressing her giant breasts against me. I couldn’t feel her heartbeat through all of the silicone, but I could hear it beating just under the skin at her neck. “You were supposed to be back days ago. What’s wrong? What happened at the meeting?”

“They… I…. He…” I couldn’t quite get the words out, I didn’t know how to start. I wasn’t even sure if I was trying to lie, or tell her what really happened. Would she believe me if I told her? Could she see the dark blue shroud that swirled around me? Could she smell the tang of burnt metal?

“I need you…” was what finally came out. She pulled back so she could look me in the eye. Bright tears were welling up, threatening to ruin her mascara.

“Oh, James…” and she kissed me. I’d always been very careful with Rachel, and every woman before her, not to let them get too attached. Somewhere in the back of my mind the old James Cain was kicking himself for that line, for letting her think that I was getting attached as well. But another part, the new James Cain was saying, I’m a fucking vampire. What does any of it matter any more?

We fell back onto the bed together and I didn’t shatter. Her perceived intimacy lent her an intensity so different than the usual wild bouncing I previously enjoyed.

“I need you too, James,” she breathed against my neck. “I love you,” she said as she slipped me into her.

“I need you…” I said again. Everything was colored in shades of ashy gray, except for the violent blue radiating off of me like the warped air over a fire. And as I swelled inside of her, it swelled around me, inky tendrils of blue darkness reaching out, and wrapping around her. And I realized just how I needed her.

My fangs kissed her throat and dark blood welled up around them. When it touched my lips I lost myself. Hot metallic life was pouring into my mouth. I pulled my fangs free from her flesh and freed the blood to flow. A burning river surged from her into me, even as my spend surged into her. I remember seeing bright red all over her neck and down her white shoulder and I thought, Color! It’s beautiful!

Rachel didn’t seem to feel the prick of my fangs, or even the heat of our sex. She seemed drugged, she only moaned incoherently and then faded into silence. I was as lost as she was. From the moment that her blood touched my lips until I stood over her wondering why she was so still, I knew nothing.

She lay there on the black silk on my bed, pale against the dark sheets. Her fake tan had been drained away and all the color was gone again. Except for a fading blue circle around her throat. My own blood went cold, and I feared for a second that I’d turned her into a vampire as well. But as I paced and panicked she continued to lie there and the light ringing her neck dimmed and then disappeared. The punctures in her throat were gone too. She was just dead.

I was so grateful that I hadn’t turned her, hadn’t damned her as I was damned, that her death didn’t sink in right away. But she persisted in lying dead and naked on the bed and it began to sink in that she wasn’t going to get up and get dressed and go away. I’d killed a person.

If they’d already given me a gun I would have used it on myself right away and left a strange crime scene for the cops. I didn’t know then what would happen to my body when I died, that it would disappear like smoke. I paced, shaking, clenching my fists until they cramped. I didn’t even realize right away how much better I felt.

My head didn’t clear right away, but it cleared enough for me to call Lex. What else could I do? When he arrived with the Top Hat Cats in tow, I was still naked, sitting on the floor next to the bed, looking at Rachel crying.

I heard Lex’s voice behind me, speaking quietly. Or maybe he was speaking normally and I was just too stunned to hear any of it. Arnold and the Can toi Cats went to the bed and began wrapping Rachel in the stained sheets. Lex knelt next to me and put his furry paws on my shoulders.

“It is better this way, James. You are no longer a hume, you are a vampire now. But this has not changed your fundamental nature. You’re a killer, James. I see that in you already. I see potential in you as well. I believe you have it in you to be a great killer.”

I was shaking my head silently, denying him with that mute gesture, but falsely. I knew I was good at The Kill. I prided myself on it. Hadn’t I gone down to Nassau to make The Kill? I was of two minds. A quiet voice that told me that murder was wrong, and a second voice, growing steadily stronger – as if the blood gave it strength – that was telling me that this is what I was born for.

The Cats cleaned it all up, of course. Rachel Downs just disappeared. And I hit the streets.

I saw that blue glow here and there. It was like a neon sign saying “good food here,” or “dinner special!” or maybe “Eat at Joe’s.” Except that it was really “Eat Joe.” There were men and women and children with the vampiric collar, it didn’t seem to matter. I’d follow one for a while and slowly catch up to them. I’d drape an arm around their shoulders and steer them somewhere dark. They were all like sheep, following trustingly, lifting their chins and bearing their throats.

But that was too easy. Like Lex said, I was good at The Kill. Those who were already marked were easy prey and I didn’t have any interest in easy prey. So I always hunted fresh targets. I liked women, for obvious reasons, the harder to get the better. I hunted women and also the tough guys, the bikers and bangers who thought they were bad. But they found out quickly what really bad was.

“Give me your clothes, whitebread!” The kid shouted. The young black boy had followed me down the street and around the corner just like I wanted him to. I wasn’t at all surprised he wanted me to strip down, I was wearing more money than his whole family probably made in a year. “Don’t make me cut you and mess up the threads, mahfa!”

I left him standing there on the sidewalk, the knife he held dangling from limp fingers. His eyes were open and still, then he blinked once. He blinked again, then again and seemed to come back to himself. I was already gone. I watched him walk away, looking over his shoulder, from my place in the shadows. The only mark of my attack was the circle of blue light around his neck. He didn’t know it yet, but now he was the victim.

I loved it and I hated it. When I couldn’t stand it anymore I’d stop drinking, but I was afraid of what I’d do if I got that hungry again. Drinking isn’t a conscious action once I put my fangs in. It’s like a baby’s latching response. Once their lips touch the nipple they suck and suck until they’ve had their fill or the milk runs dry. I’m barely even conscious when it happens. So starving myself never lasted long.

I was hooked, and this wasn’t some addiction that I could sweat out. I was a blood junkie. And I was addicted to The Kill.