Dead Perfect

Her face was very nearly as pale as the pillowcase beneath her head. Her eyelashes lay like dark fans upon her cheeks.

She was dying. A rare disease of the blood, something so rare even her doctor wasn’t sure what it was or what had caused it. Perhaps that explained why she had come looking for a vampire.

He had known many people in the course of his existence. Most came and went without making any noticeable impact on his life. Only a few had been memorable. She would be one of them, though he couldn’t say why. He hardly knew her. If he were still capable of human feelings, he might have shed tears for her.

She moaned softly, her fingers worrying the covers. “No! No, I’m afraid. Oh, please, no…”

She began to thrash around under the covers. And then she screamed.

He had heard countless cries of terror throughout his long existence but this one cut through his heart and soul like a knife.

“Shannah.” Murmuring her name, he sat on the edge of the mattress and drew her into his arms. “Wake up, child.”

Her eyelids fluttered open. For a moment, she stared at him, her eyes wide and frightened. And then, with a strangled sob, she collapsed in his arms, her body trembling.

“It’s all right, Shannah,” he whispered. “There’s nothing for you to be afraid of. You’re safe here, with me.”

It was a lie, of course, but she didn’t know that.

When she continued to shiver, he pulled the blanket from the bed and draped it around her, and then he rocked her back and forth as if she were, indeed, a child.

Gradually, her trembling ceased and she lay quiet in his arms.

He brushed a lock of hair from her brow. “How do you feel?”

“I’m dying.”

“Is that why you were looking for a vampire?”

She nodded. “I thought…”

“That I would bring you across?”

“Yes.”

He smiled faintly. “You came well-armed.” He had smelled the garlic she carried when he opened the door and saw her standing on the porch, had noted the cross she wore on a fine gold chain around her neck. When he put her to bed, he had been amused to find a crudely fashioned wooden stake tucked inside the waistband of her jeans, cloves of garlic and a small vial of holy water in the pockets of her jacket. He had disposed of all but the cross and chain.

“And do you want to be a vampire?”

“No!” she exclaimed softly, and then, softer still, “but I don’t want to die, either.”

“Perhaps the doctors were wrong.”

“They can’t all be wrong,” she said wearily. Pushing away from him, she sat up, her shoulders slumped, defeat evident in every line of her body. “I should go home.”

“You should rest a little longer. Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

“No.” She had only a short time left; she didn’t want to waste any of it by sleeping more than was absolutely necessary. She wanted to live every minute while she could. “Anyway,” she said, throwing the covers aside, “I can’t stay here.”

He gazed deep into her eyes. “Of course you can.” He tucked her under the covers once more, then stood beside the bed, looking down at her. “Go to sleep, Shannah. Everything will be better tomorrow.”

“Yes,” she said, yawning behind her hand. “Tomorrow.” Her eyelids fluttered down. A moment later, she was asleep.

He watched her for a moment more, then knelt beside the bed. Brushing a lock of hair away from her neck, he ran his tongue lightly over her skin, felt his fangs lengthen in quick response to the scent of her blood, the pulse beating slow and regular in the hollow of her throat.

He closed his eyes as the hunger rose up within him, demanding to be fed. As gently as possible, he buried his fangs in the soft skin beneath her ear. In spite of the ravening hunger that clawed at him, he drank only a little. In spite of the impurity in her blood, it was sweet, sweeter than anything he had ever tasted.

Drawing away, he made a gash in his wrist with his teeth. Dark red blood bubbled from the ragged incision.

“Hear me, Shannah,” he said, holding the bleeding wound to her lips, “you must open your mouth and drink.”

Obediently, she opened her mouth and swallowed a few drops of his blood.

A flick of his tongue closed the wound in his wrist.

“Sleep now, my sweet Shannah,” he murmured. “Sleep and dream of a long and healthy life.”

Chapter Four

Shannah woke feeling better than she had in months. Flinging the covers aside, she practically flew out of bed. She didn’t feel lethargic, as she usually did upon waking. She wasn’t cold. She didn’t have a headache. She was surprised when her stomach growled. She hadn’t been truly hungry in months. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was almost six o’clock. Good grief, she had been asleep almost twenty-four hours. No wonder she was hungry!

Going to the window, she drew back the curtains and stared out at the lowering clouds.

Gathering the robe she still wore closer around her, she padded barefoot down the stairs, wondering where her mysterious host was.

She found him in the den, seated in front of the computer.

He looked up at her when she crossed the threshold. “Good evening, Shannah.”

She smiled faintly, still feeling foolish for thinking he was a vampire. “Hi.”

“How are you feeling?” he asked, though there was no need. The shadows were gone from her eyes, the hollows from her cheeks. Her eyes glowed as clear and blue as a summer sky. Her skin was radiant.

Her smile widened. “I feel wonderful. I don’t understand it.”

“Perhaps you just needed a good night’s sleep,” he suggested. “Make yourself at home, won’t you? I’m not quite finished here.”

“Thank you. Is it…would it be all right if I fix something to eat?”

“Of course.”

“What would you like for dinner? I’m not a bad cook, if you don’t want anything too fancy.”

“Nothing for me, thank you. I’ve eaten.”

“Already?”

He nodded.

She gestured at the monitor on the desk. “Are you working, or playing?” she asked, and then flushed. It was none of her business what he was doing.

“Working.”

“Oh?” He heard the unspoken question in her voice.

“I’m a writer.”

“Really? What do you write?”

“Books.”

She glanced at the bookcase on the far wall. “Are any of these yours?”