"Sheldon, I've reviewed your request for a promotion, and in light of all the good work you've
done for our firm, I'm offering you a position as Vice Executive in charge of new accounts.
Providing, of course, that you can handle working nights."
Shel felt like jumping for joy. He had worked so very hard to prove himself, and now it had paid
off! He was finally free of his oppressing, nowhere position. He had graduated to the big time.
So what if the hours were screwy?
"No problem, Phil," he said, heart pounding with excitement.
"Good! I think you'll like Valentina. She's quite a looker, I hear," Phil said, jogging his
eyebrows.
"You've never met her?"
"No. Maybe because Sheri would be jealous, maybe because she would never trust me, after
meeting one of the undead."
Shel's jaw dropped open. He nearly spit on himself before he snapped it shut. "Sh-she's a
vampire?"
Phil squared himself in his seat. "Well, yes! You have a problem with that, Lemmings?"
He shook his head. A vampire! He'd be working for a vampire! Sure, it had been nearly ten years
since they came out of hiding and started cohabiting with humans, and the human race wasn't in
danger -- yet.
"I dunno, Phil. I mean, they seem to be taking over. Big corporations, police, political offices..."
"They used to say the same about blacks when I was growing up," Phil reprimanded him with a
frown.
Shel sighed. "I'm sorry. Just took me by surprise, is all."
"All right, then. They're not that different from us. You know as well as I do that they're not like
those scary stories that were spread around before they came. They're ordinary people, just
different."
"You sound like one of their propaganda fliers," Shel said, tensing a muscle in his jaw.
Phil gave him a steely look for a moment, then relaxed. "I'm sure you'll find it's not so bad after
you meet her. Probably be lots of fun! I think you'll enjoy working under a vampire."
Shel chuckled. "I didn't mean to sound unappreciative. I think you're right -- it probably will be
fun... I feel I'm on the right track now, thanks to you."
Phil blushed for a moment. "Hey, really, it was your hard work that did it. Now, finish up and get
ready for your big job on Monday!"
Shel stood and shook Phil's hand, wondering why it had gone so clammy. He shuddered for a
moment, then noticed that Phil's expression hadn't changed a bit. Maybe he was just sorry to see him go.
- * -
Shel had settled into his new office, and was admiring the decorations when the intercom
buzzed. Valentina called him into her office. He rushed out, slicking his hair back, hoping to
make a good first impression.
Her door was open, and he stepped inside. She briefly looked up from her desk and gestured for
him to shut the door. He pushed it closed with a gentle click. Smiling, he sat in a plush chair in
front of her desk.
She was poring over a lengthy document in front of her. The sheaf of legal-sized papers was
slightly dog-eared and curled. She ran a fountain pen over it, making scratching sounds as she
worked.
Shel hadn't really caught a good glimpse of her. Her shiny, straight black hair cascaded in front
of her face. She lifted it and looked at him. Her face was beautiful, heart-shaped and porcelain
white. Her dark eyes and deep red lips contrasted against her pallor very well. The corners of her
mouth drew back, and her teeth showed. She had pointed teeth all right, but on her fangs looked
proper -- dainty, pristine.
"Sheldon, I hate to push you this hard on your first night, but this contract has to be completed
before sunrise! Here, let me give you the thumb drive and this copy I've marked up," she said,
handing the items to him.
He flipped through the contract. It was over seventy pages long, and each bore the red stains of
her revisions! How could he hope to get this done on time?
"Sheldon?" she asked, causing him to snap about. Her eyes had narrowed, and her teeth no
longer looked cute. It was like looking into the face of some fierce predator!
Shel gulped loudly. He ran out of her office, muttering a promise to get things done as quickly as
possible.
- * -
It had been a tough night. Shel had completed his work as requested, leaving minutes before
dawn. One of his coworkers, Bill Schmitt, had assisted him, and the two decided to unwind at a
local bar.
"Val really put ya through the wringer," Bill said over his beer.
"Yeah, I guess so," Shel replied, sipping at his. "Thanks for helping with the copying and file
work."
"No problem. So tell me, how d'ya like the job so far?"
Shel sighed, parting the light froth. "I don't know. Seems like I'm more of a legal secretary than
an account executive."
"Yeah, and I'm more of an office clerk than a staff researcher."
Shel solemnly swallowed most of his remaining beer and sighed again.
Bill gave him a serious look. "Titles don't mean anything. You do what the boss wants ya to do,
same as always."
"I know what you mean," Shel said, draining his mug. He signalled for another round and they
continued talking. Neither man had anybody waiting for them at home.
Shel was glad to have someone to talk to. Bill was a friendly, personable fellow -- willing to
keep talking as long as someone else was buying. He wasn't a mooch, however. He took a
personal interest in Shel's welfare. Concerned people like Bill seemed to be very scarce these
days.
"...So, you see, Schel," Bill continued, his speech a little slurred from alcohol, "nobody's lasted
past their firsh mistake on the job. Ever'body disappears after th' firsh goof-up."
"They get fired?"
"They never get a chance," Bill said, clamping his hand around Shel's wrist. He looked at him
with wide, reddened eyes. "They never show up for work on the next day!"
Shel shook his head, causing it to swim a little. "But Bill, what about their families? Haven't the
police?"
"'Member Glen Faraday? How he hated those 'Life Donation Centers?' And how he ended up in
one last week?"
Shel didn't know what to think. "Are you saying?" His question was cut off by a loud belch.
"'Scuse me. Gotta drain this beer 'fore my teeth drown," he said, rising and gently swaying
toward the men's room.
Pushing the door open, Shel spied nobody in the men's room mirror. He quickly turned around a
partition, and started to relieve himself.
What was Bill talking about? People who never returned to work after their first screw-up? What
did that mean?
Shel shook a little more than necessary after finishing.
As he zipped, a clawed hand turned him around. "You've got the smell of fear on you," the
vampire said, baring his fangs.
Shel cursed himself for not remembering! You couldn't trust a mirror these days. Was the
vampire going to bite him here? Would Bill come too late, only to find his drained body
sprawled on the floor?
The vampire's claws dug into his shoulder. It drew in a long, hissing breath. "Yesss ... your fear
is strong!" Its eyes seemed to glow with an inner fire.
The restroom door slammed open, and the vampire released its grip. Shel noticed a brief swirl of
vapor, and Bill stumbled in through the dissipating fog.
"Ah, yer schtill here," Bill said. "Thought you'd fallen in." He turned into one of the stalls.
Shel washed his hands and dried the sweat off his forehead. Walking back out to the bar, he told
the bartender what happened.
"Nah, no way, buddy. Not in my bar."
"But you serve them, don't you?"
"No! If they wants a cocktail like the rest of us workin' stiffs, their money's as good as the next
fella's. But I don't cater to 'em -- and they can't threaten my customers where they ain't welcome.
Didn't ya read that stuff about 'em?"
"But--"
The barman gave Shel a chopping hand gesture before turning to serve another customer,
signaling there was nothing more to discuss. A couple of nearby patrons smirked and shook their heads at him.
Shel turned his reddened face away from them and waved goodbye to Bill.
- * -
"Sheldon!" Val's voice crackled from the speaker.
He picked up a handset and punched a button. "Yes?"
"There's a fax coming over right now. It's a new contract from a client whose account we need to
land. You'll have to type it in for me, and prepare an analysis of what you feel should be changed
-- if anything."
"Sure, no problem," he said.
"Good. Oh, I would like that done before the evening's out. With this client, a quick response
always gets favorable attention."
"Have I ever let you down?" he said, grinning.
Dead silence was all he heard in response. He replaced the handset and smirked at a passing
thought. No, that was undead silence.
Shel watched the document pour out of the fax machine. Tonight wouldn't be as rough. How
long could a contract be if it was transmitted by fax?
Another page fell to the floor as the fax machine's cutter rasped.
Shel collected the pages. There were already twenty, each a legal size with barely-legible fine
print.
The cutter rasped again. The page edges were red. The paper was going to run out soon.
Bill walked by, eyeing the fax machine. He hunted beneath a nearby counter and handed a roll to
Shel, who held the roll and the pages in his arms as he watched Bill return to his desk.
Shel had replaced the paper after it had run out -- the 24th page. Assuming the machine would
continue with no further assistance, he took the pages he had into his office and began typing.
The document turned out to be thirty-seven pages long, and it took nine hours to enter and
prepare commentary for Valentina. She started to pore over it, her hand scratching papers with a
fountain pen.
"See you tomorrow night, then," Shel said, starting to head out.
Her eyes looked like that other vampire's from the men's room. "Won't you stay, Sheldon?" she
asked, in a husky, yet honeysuckle voice. "I'd like to send this back to them tonight."
He was tired from last night. He wanted to tell her to do it herself, give him a break, treat him
like a human, but stopped himself. He remembered too well what Bill had said. He wasn't ready
to see what happened if he let her down. He walked back into the office.
"Oh, sure," he said, nervously.
"Sit down? I won't be a moment."
He sat and watched her. The pen in her hand was a blur above the printout. Pages flipped,
markings were made, then she finally paused to reflect on his commentary.
"Yes, I think you're right. I'd like you to change the wording of that clause and attach the
addendum you mentioned," she said, handing it all to him.
Shel tried not to notice her hungry stare as he left her office.
- * -
"I didn't think it could get worse," Shel said, his voice quavering. "It's true -- I'm a damned legal
secretary! What new accounts am I managing there? What executive function do I serve? What's in it for me, Bill?"
Bill looked at him levelly. "Money. Power, perhaps. If you last the week, you just might be
flying high with the rest of them!"
"Bill!" Shel said in a shocked voice. Some bar patrons turned to give him a sideways glance, then returned to their business.
"It's just a figure of speech, Shel! Really. Sheesh!"
"I'm sorry, Bill. I'm just really wound up. Let me buy you another."
"Thanks."
After a couple hours' worth of idle chatter, Shel decided to head home. He felt a familiar pressure
in his bladder, but did not want to brave the restroom again.
- * -
"Where's Valentina?" Shel asked.
"Probably off feeding somewhere," Bill said, casually tossing his hand.
"Doesn't she need to do that every night?"
"I dunno. Maybe not, from what little I've seen. I don't work that close to her, you know. My
office is on the other side of the room, and I'm often stuck with some piddling clerical duty. But
she's usually here the entire night."
Mist swirled beneath the entrance door.
"Catch this," Bill said, nudging.
Something like a white fog, only thicker and more impenetrable, rose off the floor, forming a
column. Vapor swirled into a roughly human shape. In moments, the fog cleared and Valentina
stood in front of the entrance doors. Her gaze quickly locked on the two men.
Bill pushed Shel aside, sprinting back to his desk. Shel refilled his coffee cup and walked to his
office, following Valentina. Her businesslike demeanor was betrayed by the decidedly feminine
swivel of her hips.
"Sheldon," she said, stepping into her office, gesturing with a hooked finger.
He entered and shut the door as usual. Her face was stern, but had some other, sadder quality aswell.
"What can I do for you?" he asked.
"I'd like you-" she hiccuped, then swallowed hard. "Excuse me. My diet sometimes doesn't agree
with me."
He nodded, feeling a cold touch creep down his spine. Her breath carried the fetor of blood. He
couldn't help but think that it was human blood. Maybe she hid in restrooms, too.
She squared herself in her chair. "As I was saying, I'd like you to speak with a potential client.
His name is 'Modern,' and he represents a new industry that could turn a tidy profit for us. I've
never met him, but his business has grown tremendously these past few years. I'd like you to
meet him tonight and see if you can cut a deal."
Finally, something more along the lines of his job title! 'Sure," Shel said, anxiously.
She jotted a Downtown Birmingham address on a yellow sticky note and handed it to him. Shel
shuddered briefly at the business name: Blood Money. He walked out to his office, gathered
some business materials, and headed for the address.
- * -
"...And here is my favorite part, Mister Lemmings: the venous blood blottler. You see, venous
blood turns bright red the moment it is exposed to the air. Oxygen causes its pigment to change,
you know. So, care must be taken to assure that no air gets to it at any time -- from the moment
of extraction to the final moment of packaging. In these tinted containers, the end product looks
just as blue as a human vein, wouldn't you say...? What's the matter, Mister Lemmings? You
look pale."
Shel's back was wet with sweat. He drew a long breath and held it for a moment, letting it out in a slow, stuttering gasp. "I'm sorry, Mister Modem, I guess I'm overawed by all this."
Modern grinned a sharp-toothed smile, and patted him on the back. "I like you, Lemmings. Let
us return to my office to discuss business matters..."
The office was immense. It resembled a concert hall, being so huge and expansive. Dark wood
paneling covered every wall, and rich, expensive furniture sat atop its oriental rugs. Modern sat
in a huge leather chair behind a mahogany desk, and Shel sat in an overstuffed wing-back in
front of it.
Modern opened a drawer, removing a blue cylinder and a magnifying glass. He pored over the
documents Shel had handed him, looking at them through the magnifier.
His hand groped for the cylinder, which Shel recognized as being a blood container from the
assembly line. Modern looked up at him, his fangs poised above the container. His eyebrows
raised, then he set his things down on the desk.
"I beg your pardon," he said. "Could I offer you a drink, perhaps?"
Shel waved a hand. "No, thank you. Don't bother yourself on my account."
Modern's gaze pierced him for a moment, then his expression softened. "No trouble, I assure you."
"Thank you very much, but I'm fine. I appreciate your offer, though. You're very kind."
Modern smiled at him and sank his teeth into the soft plastic. He drained it quickly, licking a
drop of red off his chin with a quick dart of his tongue.
"Excuse my sloppiness," he said. 'Then again, this is much neater than the old ways. Much less
waste this way." He tossed the spotless empty into a wastebasket, where it landed with a hollow
clang.
Shel's stomach turned. What was he doing here, making business deals with a man who
packaged, sold, and drank blood? Much of it human blood at that!
But people weren't slaughtered to fill those bottles. Modern had pointed that out to him without
his asking. He didn't condone products made by the Life Donation Centers. "Such businesses are likely to cause humans to believe we are forcing them into dire straits, even if such centers are strictly for euthanasia," he'd said.
Modern's donors were given hormones or marrow treatments to become better producers; they
weren't killed, or corralled like cattle. They were free to pursue full, happy lives -- with
occasional commitments.
"Yes, Mister Lemmings," Modern said, interrupting Shel's reverie. "I like your proposal. I think
you will do nicely..." He ran a tongue across his fangs, giving Shel a brief chill. "Could you draw
up a standard contract and have it delivered for my review no later than the dawn after next?"
Shel cleared his throat, swallowing around the dry knot that had formed there. "Yes. I can
probably fax the document to you as soon as I return to my office."
"Splendid," he said, offering a clawed hand. Shel gripped it, noticing how deathly cold and
lifeless it felt.
Modem thanked him for coming and showed him out.
On the way back, Shel reflected on his job. Working under a vampire wasn't very different from
working under the meaty fist of a human boss. Returning to his office, he filled Valentina in on
the details.
"...So, I thought I'd fax him our standard contract," he concluded, "after you've had an
opportunity to go over it, of course."
She smiled. No rosy color came to her cheeks, but it was a warm smile nonetheless. 'Thank you, Sheldon. You've really put in a good effort in the scant few nights you've worked here. I feel I've been pushing too hard, and would like an opportunity to make it up to you. After work, at
Vincent's?"
Did she mean that new rib place uptown? Shel nodded in agreement, then asked, "But don't you
think we should transmit that contract tonight?"
I'll leave that up to you, Shel. May I call you that?"
He nodded.
"And you may call me 'Val,' if you like," she said, pausing to look at her desk clock: a gold-and glass
device that seemed to suspend its hands in the air. "I feel I can trust your judgment. If you
put it together before two, go ahead and send it off. Bill will file a copy for me."
No long night this time! Shel breathed a sigh of relief. He was also looking forward to getting to
know Val better. He thanked her and walked back to his office.
- * -
Sure enough, Val had taken him to that expensive rib place uptown. Some restaurants gained an
air of plush respectability when they catered to the undead. Fortunately, there were plenty of
cooked meals available, too. Shel chose a rare cut of prime rib for himself.
Val had drained a red container, similar to Modern's except for its color. She smilingly looked
upon Shel as he sipped his Bordeaux. Her hungry stare unnerved him. He coughed lightly,
swallowing some wine the wrong way.
"I'm sorry, did I disturb you?" she asked.
"My fault, really," he said, wiping his chin with a napkin.
Her face sagged. "No, it's me, I can tell a fear reaction easily enough."
He set down his glass. "You can smell it?"
"Yes ...how did you know that?"
"Uh, intuition?"
She gave him a sideways glance. Her eyes dipped toward the floor. "Well, you're right."
"What's upsetting you, Val? Why so sad?"
She let out a sigh. Shel could feel its cold chill from across the table. "It's not easy working under
a vampire."
Shel suspected she was referring to whomever she worked for. "Why’s that?"
'There are so many demands. You would think that a race of beings who live for eternity could
proceed at a relaxed pace. But I'm given all these immediate, harsh deadlines! I'm sure you've
noticed."
Shel sipped again, buying himself time to think. "You talk like you aren't one of them. --No
disrespect, of course."
Val's cold hand gripped his. "I wasn't until recently. That is, about two years ago. I thought
becoming one of them would be a big boost for my career--open up doors of opportunity and
...yes, pleasure. I was wrong, Shel. I've enslaved myself worse than you'll ever know. It's hard to
gain seniority over someone who's never going to age or retire! What was I thinking of?"
Shel drew closer, sliding across the curved seat of the booth. He hugged her lightly, caressing her hair. He could feel his body heat being drawn into her. He hoped that it would add some comfort.
The waiter brought their meals, setting down the platters with a skilled flourish. Val straightened
herself, gazing hungrily at the gory mess in front of her. Shel quickly gave her room to feed.
His steak was excellent. He was distracted by the entrails-slurping, bone-crunching and marrow-sucking sounds Val made, but quickly shrugged them off. He couldn't remember just what it was that she had ordered, and felt glad for his forgetfulness.
"Are you going to finish that?" Val asked, eying the cup of Au Jus that adorned his plate.
He handed it to her, and she dashed it back like a cocktail. After a moment, she yawned and
stretched, her fangs reflecting the candlelight. Her fingernails seemed to lengthen momentarily.
Shel watched in awestruck fascination.
"I looked at Henry that same way," she said. "He was the one who afflicted me. Hah! I thought
he was sharing a gift at the time. Now he's gone. Left me for some other passing fancy."
"What's it like?"
She let out a dainty laugh. "You're curious, just like I was! Well, the senses are keener. You can
smell, hear, and see things better. --All part of a night predator's necessary talents."
"You make it sound so vile and disgusting."
"Don't you think it is? Look at the way I ate! I tore into that like a common animal, eating the
bones and everything!" She shuddered.
"Isn't there something you like? I mean, something you enjoy about it? The way you entered the
office the other day was fascinating!"
She grinned again. 'Thank you. Actually, yes--some of the new shapes and forms are kind of
exciting, although I'm pretty set against bats. Vile, filthy creatures. You know they hang around
in caves filled with the stench of their ripening offal? Revolting!"
"So, you prefer the misty form?"
"Well, not as much as -- I'd like to show you, but..."
"What's wrong? Something bothering you?"
"Well, most of the men -- the human men, that is -- can't stand it. I don't want to upset you, Shel.
I like you too much. I don't want to ruin our relationship."
His heart pounded strongly. Thundering blood rushed in his veins. There was something about
Val that was so compelling and attractive. She seemed to be so lonely and afraid -- a lot like Shel
felt most of the time. Could he possibly hate or fear her? No, not even after what Bill had said.
"Val," he said, moving closer, "let me see." He wanted to say more, but the words wouldn't
come.
She gazed into his eyes -- a deep, soulful stare. How could those dark eyes hide anything evil and hideous? Shel couldn't believe the tales of how the indeed were soulless, cold, dispassionate. Not with eyes like those!
Her features seemed to melt as a light haze swirled about her. Her image blurred, and Shel could vaguely see her body warp and change shape beneath it. An odd crunching noise came from the mist, sounding a little like Val did when she was eating.
The fog lifted, and a huge, snarling wolf regarded him. Its fangs were too long and pointed even
for an animal of its size. Its breath carried a foul odor of decaying meat and blood. Its eyes were
fierce, feral. Shel wondered if Val retained any of her human qualities in that form. He reached
out a trembling hand, hoping desperately that she hadn't changed as much on the inside as she
had on the outside.
The wolf hungrily watched his approaching hand, drooling spittle onto the white tablecloth. Shel
slowly moved his hand to the creature's back. He stroked her fur, causing her to let out a pleasant rumble. He quickened his pace, working fingers deeper into the silky hair, clawing her between the ears.
Val put her heavy paws on his leg and licked his face. Her chilly tongue was wonderful. Though
her body was dead cold, the fur seemed to help. Shel hugged her massive, hairy neck.
The waiter returned with the check, and Val drew back, swirling again into human form. She
seemed to materialize a platinum credit card out of thin air, placing it over the bill. Shel saw the
waiter retreat out of a corner of his eye, but paid no attention to him. His gaze was fixed on Val.
"Shel, I've never had anyone touch me the way you did! So warm and gentle! Ah, if only I had
met you when I was still living..." She sniffed.
Before he could say anything, a clock chimed in the lobby. Val's head turned toward the sound,
her expression one of distressed panic. She misted and swirled away, leaving Shel behind to
reflect on her. A woman who normally inspired no reflection at all.
- * -
It was nearing the end of the next business night. Both Shel and Bill had returned to their routine
of hard labor, struggling to meet another harsh deadline. Bill was in Val's office, being shouted
at.
"You told me you could get that information tonight, Bill!" Shel heard through the walls.
Bill's answer was unintelligible.
"Do you know what this means?" she asked, insensed. "Do you have any idea?"
Dead silence.
"Do whatever you can. Just get moving!"
Shel heard her door slam. Bill rushed by, his face white with fear. Shel picked up his document,
heading for Val's office.
She had already disappeared, leaving a faint trace of mist. Why had she done that? Dawn was
still some hours away. Shel set his papers on her desk, and returned to the main office.
Bill was in no condition to continue working. His whole body trembled, and his color was
scarcely darker than Val's. Shel talked him into leaving for their common watering hole.
- * -
"I'm a dead man for sure," Bill said, gulping a Long Island iced tea. He was drinking like there
was no tomorrow. Shel knew he believed it.
"I've gotten to know her. She's not like you think, Bill. She's-"
"She's a fucking vampire, Shel! If ya have any other impression of 'er, it's because she's
manip'latin' ya. She's toying with ya, playing with yer emotions! They're all same -- all of 'em!"
He couldn't believe him. He didn't want to argue, either. Bill wasn't in a mood to listen, anyway.
What comfort could he offer? Shel's stomach turned along with the question in his skull. Then,
an urgent demand issued from a straining bladder.
Shel rushed for the men's room and quickly found a stall. He hurried, spraying the porcelain with
a heated pressure of urine. He quickly turned to leave, and was caught in the grip of that vampire
again.
Shel opened his mouth to shout, but a taloned hand clamped over it. He stared through widening
eyes at the yellow-fanged face that drew near him. Its mouth opened wide, hissing.
Suddenly, the door slammed open and a dog pounced upon the vampire, knocking it to the
ground. Shel stared, shocked. That wasn't a dog -- that was Val! It had to be!
The other vampire transformed into a bigger, meaner looking wolf. The two clawed and bit at
each other. Fur flew in all directions as they struggled.
Shel rushed out, calling for help. "There's a couple of vampires fighting in the men's room!"
Various shouts sounded from the bar:
"Who cares?"
"Mebbe they'll kill each other!"
"Anybody gotta wooden stake?"
"Mebbe we can git 'em both with holy watuh."
"Fuck you all!" Shel snapped, rushing back into the lavatory.
He slipped on a black pool of ichor that coated the floor. Drenched in this sticky, foul-smelling
blood was the decapitated corpse of the male vampire, and the wounded body of Valentina. She
wanly smiled at him, her face besmirched with a dark stain. Shel straightened himself and
approached her.
"Val, you've got to get out of here! There's only minutes ‘til daylight!"
She waved him off with a weakened gesture. "I'm dead already. Poisoned by him."
"How can that be? Say it isn't true!"
"There's no time to explain, Shel. You should know this, though... What Bill said about me was
true. I was going to finish him off tonight, just as I had done with the others. That's why I was
here."
"Why are you saying these things?"
She coughed up some black ichor. "Because it's true, Shel... It's all true. I'm just like them. I
destroy those who don't serve me."
He couldn't help but pity her. She could never be a ruthless killer, not in his eyes. She had a
noble and kindred spirit -- an altogether human quality. He couldn't bear to lose her now. He had
to save her!
"Maybe if you drink me, you could live," he said, offering his wrists. "Maybe this way we could
live together, forever."
She let out a long sigh. "You're so romantic, Shel. But there's more to it than that. Don't you see
this is your chance to get rid of me?"
"I don't care what you've done, Val. I forgive you. We can overcome this together. You can
change -- I know you can. You saved me, after all! There's gotta be some hope! Dammit Val, I
don't want to lose you!"
She sniffed at his wrists, then looked into his eyes. "You really do love me, don't you? Willing to
sacrifice yourself for me?"
He felt the Cold strength of his convictions. Tears burned in his eyes. "Anything," he said.
She plunged her teeth into his arm, sucking the life out of him. She caressed his limp head,
muttering softly.
"I'll be back for you," she said, swirling away.
The bathroom door burst open. "There they are!" an angry voice sounded.
"Better hammy this through the heart o' dat othuh one," another fellow said, passing a wooden
stake.
- * -
Valentina wandered the streets of the city. They had destroyed Shel before she got her chance to raise him from the dead.
She had learned a valuable lesson, however. She didn't have to play by the vampire rules -- be a
part of their horrid lifestyle. Even though she was an undead, she could uplift herself with hope,
and brave spirit. She could aspire to greatness, perhaps atone for the evil things that she had done in her life.
She passed by a church. The sign of the cross no longer pained her. Its symbol of hope, salvation, and mercy inspired her. She could turn her life around, working for good. She had only needed to try.
That, and recall the love and sympathy of the man who had selflessly given his life for her. With
that force, perhaps she could inspire others to tread a higher path.
She headed on, walking toward a brighter future.
- End -