Copyright © 2014 by Michael Litzky
Jeremy walked the nighttime streets, eyes barely seeing the houses flow by. He couldn’t think.
Vampires crowded and surged on all sides. KerriAnne occasionally hissed, “You dare not touch us!” when one of the mass came too close. When she did, she looked quickly at him.
Jeremy, through his storm of emotions, was comforted at how she took care of him. His thoughts skittered back to the moment a week ago when he stood with the stake in his hands ready to kill her.
As he turned and faced KerriAnne and understood the sound she was making, Jeremy felt as if he were standing outside of time.
This beautiful creature, this monster, this proven killer who had gloated at them all in the plaza, was weeping silently into his 49ers sheets, eyes closed, without hope.
She had turned away again. Her ass was still obediently in the air and (what was always supposed to be such a sexy sight but which made him sick) his come was dripping out of her into a dull gleaming puddle.
For an instant he was truly outside of time and saw her as her father had seen her when she was fourteen and he had satiated himself with his slavishly submissive younger daughter, having stopped himself when his older daughter resisted. In that moment, just like her father eleven years before, he knew himself to be a monster and beyond redemption.
He also clearly saw the puckered wound on the side of her back, just below the shoulder blade, where Malcolm’s stake had pierced her heart. A dot of transparent ooze gleamed in its center.
He approached her tentatively, not really knowing what he was going to do.
She heard him coming but did nothing to protect herself; her eyes stayed closed and her body seemed to welcome its own destruction, like it was nestling into a frayed blanket.
Jeremy sat by her head, pants bunching uncomfortably. Moved by his tender heart across an enormous bridge, he stroked her hair, which was soft but tangled. She stopped breathing.
His hand stroked the arched line of her back, avoiding the weeping wound. “Does it hurt, there?” he asked, touching her spine near the place, realizing that he cared, wanting Sister Amanda to tell him in her shyly passionate way that God still loved him.
KerriAnne said nothing but her shoulders adjusted minutely, accepting his hand there, so Jeremy Paxton stayed at her side, right hand near the punctured heart of the vampire who three weeks ago would gleefully have killed him and everyone he knew.
When she spoke, her voice felt like mushrooms decaying in a nighttime grove. “I want, I just want you to, just…” Her voice dissolved in grief. She blurbled incoherent syllables, all with her ass still on display. Arousal stirred in Jeremy again, around nausea and self-disgust; he felt like a rapist.
Wanting redemption, he tried to sweep her into his arms. She was a dead weight at first as his arms went around her shoulders and pulled her up. Her eyes flew open and he looked straight into them, forgetting that vampire eyes can hypnotize. Her ass flopped down beside his thigh; he felt better with her leaking vagina less vulnerable, as though he had wounded her and now the wound was hidden.
He stared straight into those wide hazel eyes with their sharp epicanthic folds and their quavering longing. There was no trace of craft or guile. She waited as if his very next words would decide her fate.
All the romance in his youthful heart burst free and he imagined this beautiful woman healed by his love. He would defend her against people who wouldn’t understand that she was now on the side of good and he would carefully wean her off of blood (how was she able to be with him now without trying to drink?). They would travel the world like gypsies in colorful clothes, drunk with love, kissing passionately and having sex and he would last for hours. And they’d stand on top of the Eiffel Tower kissing, unable to keep their hands off each other. She would dress in elegant fashion and he’d have on a beret and a scarf.
And, and he’d take her into the sunlight, she’d be so shy and scared, but once she felt the light on her naked skin it would heal that horrible wound and she would fly and carry her with him, urging him to fuck her again and again and …
And Sister Amanda would marry them, he thought dutifully, not wanting his fantasy to be as sinful as what he had just done.
Swept into promises far beyond what he was emotionally capable of keeping, he said intently, “I love you. I really do. You’re beautiful and I think you’re good at heart and I want you to marry me, I’ll never hurt you again, look we don’t even have to do it again until we’re married.”
When he said, “I think you’re good at heart,” her eyes closed, her body held the words, savoring them, treasuring them. They had meant everything to her.
The rest of what he said seemed to bounce off and Jeremy found himself annoyed; didn’t she know what a tremendous sacrifice he had just made? He’d offered to marry her, he’d said they didn’t have to have sex again until they were married! What other man his age would be so noble, so proper?
But he said again the words she’d liked best: “You’re good, you’re so good, I bet you’re sorry for all the stuff you did.” She nodded eagerly, eyes closed, face joyful. Still acting on his dream fantasy, he went on, “I bet you could give up blood if you tried, you know what I mean? There’s…”
“I did! I did it all by myself!” she cried, like a child who had cleaned her room without being told. “Well, I, I mean, for three days I haven’t had any, and before that I really tried. Please don’t be mad at me.”
He thought of how she’d begged him to punish her before; this plea felt far different. Unable to think or to resist, he bent his head and raised hers and kissed her. His head spun. Her lips were as cool as the rest of her, but she kissed him back frantically. Her kissing was as clumsy as her other sexual techniques were sophisticated, as clumsy as his kissing was.
Jeremy was swimming in love. He had met the enemy and been captured and it was lucky that Sally Yan was not around to tell him what KerriAnne had been like because KerriAnne was not like that anymore. Her world had been rocked to its foundations by the shock of dying. For an unmeasured time alone in despair she had raged, she had begged, she had promised, she had wept. She had nearly ceased to exist, as lost as a mosquito in the collapse of a skyscraper. When Jeremy had returned her to life, she’d clung to him, his face, his voice; she’d done anything to be worthy of his attention, to be forgiven, to be taught how to be a human being. Flickering from sexual slave to begging child, she did whatever she thought he wanted, feeling lost.
Now her salvation kissed her like she was worthy of life and even happiness, and drawn by her new humanity into promises far beyond what she was emotionally capable of keeping, she murmured around his lips, “I’ll give up blood forever, I’ll never hurt anybody ever ever again. And I’ll be your wife until the day I die, forever and forever if you want me, I’ll be yours, just yours, I’ll never want anybody else, if you, if you want me, if you really want me.”
And Jeremy found himself saying staunchly, “I really do, I want you, you’re good, you’re amazing.” I’ll be your wife, she’d said, just like a stereotype submissive Japanese war bride (although he did know the difference between Japanese and Chinese). But he’d do it, he’d marry her and take care of her!
KerriAnne, weeping, cried, “You don’t have to, you don’t have to! Just, just, all I want is…” She saw her dear sister’s face, full of regret as she condemned KerriAnne with “You’ve always been a vampire.” Did that mean she should stop clinging to Jeremy? But she found herself lifting up and kissing him with mortal hunger. She’d never wanted anything like she wanted the love and respect of this boy on the edge of becoming a man. Even with her newly hatched self-awareness, she was ready to turn herself inside out to get it.
After they made love again and then talked in happy secret tones as lovers have done since the dawn of history and then made love once more, Jeremy slept. KerriAnne looked at his sweetly dreaming face and thought about what she now knew she could do for him and was completely happy for the first time since she was a small child.
They crossed the deserted shopping street, passed a school which looked like a prison and started climbing. KerriAnne stroked his upper arm tentatively. He took her hand, but he was sick at his stomach as they got closer.
A memory flashed into his mind: last year, he’d taken his courage in his hands and called a girl named Marcie to ask if she’d like to see a movie with him. He’d counted the rings, knowing that after six rings he could hang up and comfort himself with the thought that he’d tried. When her mother had answered and he’d stammered out his request to speak with Marcie, she’d said, “Just a minute” and then screamed Marcie’s name at the top of her lungs. He’d hung up.
He thought about what KerriAnne said she’d seen and he almost hoped there would be nobody home.
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