Devil's Night (a short story)

I was in my apartment, seated comfortably in my armchair, feet up, with a fleece blanket draped over me, and a steaming cup of Earl Grey on the end table. My cat, Charlie, was asleep on the floor in front of me. I was doing a crossword puzzle, struggling with Twelve Across, when I felt a sudden chill. Charlie seemed to feel it too, because the black fur on his spine stood on end. He meowed groggily, and suddenly his ears tensed and he rose from his comfortable resting spot on the grey carpet. He was looking towards the window. I turned and saw nothing. I shrugged and went back to my crossword, but Charlie remained fixated on the window.

“What is it, boy?” I asked, reaching down to rub him behind the ears.

He jumped, all four paws off the floor, and turned his head around to bite my hand. I pulled away from him, and he looked at me as though he was surprised to have just done that. Charlie was usually a very affectionate cat. In seven years, he hadn’t bitten or scratched me once.

I felt the same mysterious sensation again, and Charlie darted across the room and under the sofa. Not one for panic, I shook my head and took a sip of my tea. The hot liquid soothed me. I leaned back in my chair and stretched my arms over my head. I took a casual survey of my living room and saw nothing out of the ordinary.

I thought that perhaps if I took a break from pondering over Twelve Across, the answer would come to me, so I grabbed the remote control resting next to my cup of tea and turned on the television. One of the twenty-four hour news stations came on. A man had attacked and dismembered two women in a park. I mumbled something to myself about detesting this planet, shut off the television, and picked up the crossword once again.

A voice whispered, “Mayhem.”

It was the answer that had been eluding me. The voice had come from inside my head, but it wasn’t my voice. Still, it felt like a part of myself had spoken. This didn’t startle me, but I was thoroughly confused.

I got to Fourteen Across and before I could even think of the answer, the same voice gave it to me: “Undead.”

Arms stiff, I dropped the paper on the floor. I got out of my chair and slowly turned around. Nothing. I was alone, and yet, I felt a presence. Where had that voice come from? It was soothing and ghastly all at once. There was something familiar about it. I slowly sat back in my chair, looking from left to right.

Just as I relaxed, I felt something like a cold hand on my shoulder. When I turned my head to look, there was nothing there. Was my mind playing tricks on me? I figured I was just tired, so I decided to go to bed.

In the bathroom, I was bent over the sink washing my face, as I always did before bed, when I felt that same chill—more intensely this time. My torso shot upright, the face scrub burning my eyes. In the mirror, I could see a figure behind me. Frantically, I grabbed the hand towel, removed the excess cleanser from my face, and looked in the mirror again. There was nothing there except my own reflection, but I could still feel something.

“Charlie!” I called out. “I’m going to bed. Come, keep me company.” He didn’t appear.

Apprehensive, I kept my head down, eyes darting from side to side, as I made my way to the bedroom. I turned on the light and froze. There was a man—but not really a man—standing next to my window. He had pale skin, black hair, and bright green eyes that glowed like nothing I’d ever seen. He smiled and I distinctly noted fangs.

My heart stopped for a second, and when I caught my breath, I asked tentatively, “Who are you?”

His smile turned to a playful smirk, and he said, “No one. Shouldn’t you be asking what I am?” The voice was the same one I had heard earlier in my ear.

“It’s not possible,” I said. “Vampires don’t exist, at least not the ones you read about in novels.”

His stare pierced through me. It felt as though he could see everything within me. Suddenly, he was standing behind me.

“But we do,” he whispered softly in my left ear, causing my whole body to tremble.

“Isn’t there some rule about vampires not being allowed to enter a place unless they’re invited?” I asked as he circled around me.

Leaning close to my face and staring into my eyes, he replied, “But you did invite me in. You wanted help with your vocabulary. I read your thoughts. You weren’t going to finish what you started. We can’t have that, now, can we?”

Then he let out a chuckle unlike any human laughter I’d ever heard. It was demonic, but not unpleasant to the ear.

“I always finish what I start,” I replied, affronted.

He just stared at me with that same smirk on his thin face. I was starting to wish that I had the power to read his thoughts.

“You can,” he said.

I was so foolish; it hadn’t occurred to me that he was still tapping into my mind. I guess I just didn’t know vampires. What could I say to him? He was terrifying and intriguing me at the same time. If only he would speak to me, instead of boring into me with those beautiful yet menacing eyes.

He placed a cold, graceful hand on my shoulder and guided me to my bed. “Sit,” he said, “I’ll tell you a story, but you must be comfortable when I tell it.” I obliged. “I won’t tell you that same boring story that all vampires tell, about how I was born in some godforsaken European village and my family perished in some tragic event… No. I’m not centuries old; I’ve been undead for exactly two years. As for my relatives, they live nearby, but they think I’m dead, so we don’t keep in touch. The human version of myself was born in 1979, so, you might say that I’m twenty-six years old. In vampire terms, I’m still a baby stumbling and fumbling through life.

“When I met my maker, I was at a Halloween party. Quite appropriately and disgustingly, I’d gone dressed as Dracula. Pathetic, right? Perhaps that’s why he chose me? He wasn’t very creative. Anyway, my girlfriend was with me, dressed as a devil. I thought we were having a good time together, but at some point in the night, she disappeared. I asked everyone if they’d seen her. They all said no and gave me sympathetic looks. Naturally, I wondered what was going on. I felt like I was out of the loop.

“I looked upstairs for her, but couldn’t find her, so I decided to try the basement. As I descended those creaky stairs, I knew I was making a mistake. Instinctively, I knew nothing good would come out of going down there. It was dark, and I couldn’t hear anything, but something in my heart told me that I was going to find something. I flipped the light switch in the laundry room, and there she was with my best friend. How appropriate that she was dressed as a devil! Something died inside me at that moment. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t do anything. I just turned and walked back up the stairs. Everyone asked me what happened. I ignored all of them and walked straight out the front door of the house.

“I must have walked for hours. It’s hard to remember. The sun hadn’t come up yet; that much I know. I reached a poorly lit park and sat down on a bench. I couldn’t block out the image of them together in my mind. I was consumed with pain and anger. Then I felt a sharp pain in my neck and I blacked out. When I came to, this fiend in a long, black coat was standing over me, wiping his chin with a white handkerchief. He had a completely indifferent look on his face that irritated me. I was the serious sort; pensive, intense… I guess I still am. But you see, I have the luxury of being able to refer to my mortal self in the past tense. Anyway, he didn’t look remotely interested in me or in what he’d done. The pain in my neck was excruciating.

“‘Who are you?’ I gasped.

“That got his attention. He looked at me, but he didn’t answer me.

“I tried to get up and face him man to—er—vampire. At that moment, I didn’t really understand that he was a vampire. The pain and the loss of blood were messing with my mind. After he finished wiping his chin clean of my blood, he began to inspect his slightly overgrown nails.

“I repeated myself more urgently, ‘Who the hell are you?’

“He glared at me and said, ‘The most important being you will ever encounter.’

“I was appalled. ‘You think highly of yourself, don’t you?’

“He chuckled. ‘I knew you were the perfect specimen—proud and sanctimonious. You were begging for a reality check.’

“‘What the hell are you talking about?’ I snarled.

“‘Yes!’ he hissed. ‘I can’t wait to watch you in action after you’ve been indoctrinated.’ He looked very pleased with himself.

“Then he used his sharp thumbnail to slit open a vein. I was disgusted. Very quickly, though—immediately––the open wound was pressed against my mouth. I wanted to resist, but that first taste of his blood was so intoxicating, I was powerless to stop this transmission. At first, it just flowed into my mouth, but after a moment, I realized that I was intently sucking it out of his vein. I felt a strange mixture of pleasure and abhorrence; the simultaneous guilt and delight were intense. And the hunger… There is no equivalent human experience that I can relate it to.

“Suddenly, looking weakened, he pushed me away. I felt such separation anxiety, but it was quickly replaced with a sensation I can only express as implosion. Every part of my body began convulsing. There was a ringing in my ears, and my vision blurred. I think I blacked out again, but I had no concept of time, so it’s hard to say. Then I heard his impassive voice saying, ‘Welcome, my son.’ I opened my eyes expecting that same fuzzy vision; much to my surprise, my eyesight was sharper than it had ever been. Everything around me had come into sharp focus. It was as if I was seeing the world for the first time.

“He held out his hand and I helped me up. ‘Hungry, my child?’ he asked me. I was. I wanted that succulent taste again. He pointed to a couple on one of the other park benches. They were gazing into each other’s eyes, seemingly unaware of their surroundings. I couldn’t believe how fast I moved; it was as if I just apparated behind them. With one swift movement, I drained the young man. I chose him first because he looked fit; the girl was somewhat plump, and I guessed that she would have a harder time running away from me than he would. I was right. She shrieked at the sight of her boyfriend’s limp body and rose from the bench to run away. I gave her a moment; there was a devilish excitement about giving a headstart to someone who didn’t stand a chance of getting away. I could hear her heart pounding. It gave me an unfamiliar rush. I knew in that instant that I was no longer human; my compassion had disappeared. I descended on her, sending her crashing to the ground. This kill was even more delicious because I could taste the exquisite fear in her blood.

“When it was over, I didn’t know whether to bask in the immense pleasure or hate myself for abandoning my morals. In any case, I had no choice. I was what I was, and any trace of human feelings of guilt lurking inside my soulless body were doomed to vanish.”

I gaped at him, fascinated by his story. What an intriguing life he leads, I thought. He heard me, of course. The disapproval in his eyes was clear. “You want more intrigue?” he sneered at me.

“Yes,” I replied matter-of-factly.

 “Why are humans so predictable?!” he grumbled.