A Vampire Comes to Call

By Leila Eadie

Emma stared at the screen, at the unending blank page that awaited the unique contribution to science that was her PhD thesis. She had finished the fun part: the research, and now she had months of writing up ahead of her.

Only two chapters finished, and already I'm sick of it, she thought, shaking her head.

In an effort to find some distraction, she had cleaned the kitchen, organised her CDs into alphabetical order, and done the shopping for the week. It was now after dusk and there were no more excuses; she had to do some work.

She typed in: "The chemical secretions from the skin of the toad Bufo sanguineus have been analysed and contain--"

The doorbell rang.

With a big sigh-- and a smile, she left her desk and ran to the door. Pulling it open she saw a handsome young man, around her own age of... approaching thirty, smiling attractively at her. The orange streetlights shone off his long leather coat and highlighted shoulder length dark hair whose lustre supermodels would die for. In his hands were pamphlets.

"Good evening, Madam," he said. "I wonder if you could spare a few moments to talk about your eternal soul?"

Emma considered. Tapping in paragraphs about the chemical secretions of a toad, or talking to this gorgeous man about God. No contest, really.

"Come on in," she said and opened the door wider. She led him through to her sitting room and moved a pile of photocopied research papers off the sofa. "Have a seat," she suggested and he did, perching on the very edge of the cushion. She pulled her desk chair nearer and sat too.

"Thank you," he said. His skin, she noticed, was flawless, and as pale as milk. "Miss--?"

"Rillingworth," she said, tucking behind her ears tendrils of dark blonde hair that had escaped from her plait. "Although Emma will do."

"Emma," he repeated. "My name is Edward Ashburton, and I'm visiting people in this area to ask for their opinions on the realm of darkness."

"Oh," Emma said. "I thought you were a Jehovah's Witness."

"No, no. A different species entirely," he said and smiled, wide enough this time to reveal lengthened canines. He handed her one of the printed leaflets, cold fingers brushing hers, and she looked at the title. Vampirism for the 21st Century - A New Way Forward.

"I see," Emma said, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. "I didn't know you did door to door... visits."

"No, this is a new idea. I'm hoping to try and bring vampirism out in the open, so to speak. Recruit suitable types--we can't, uh, reproduce the usual way, you see, and we need new people, new minds, new ideas. I also want to disseminate information and so on." He smiled again, this time without showing his fangs, and reassured her, "It's quite all right; I've already fed tonight and you're in no danger. I'm here purely to gauge your opinions."

"Well..." Emma considered, keeping her eyes locked onto him in case he should make any sudden moves. "Your lot have had some good press recently," she said, "what with those movies, and the resurgence of the Goth lifestyle in the fashion world."

"We are indeed well regarded. A great many people have expressed an interest in joining us." He produced a slim, expensive-looking laptop from within a small black leather bag and flipped it open, powering it up. "And yourself?"

"Me?" she asked. "I'm afraid I'm not convinced it's as romantic and sexy as the films make it out to be."

"Oh?" he said, a frown marring his perfect brow. "Why not?"

"Well, for a start, I'd miss the sun. I love watching the sun rise, sunsets too. The feel of that warmth on your skin, the blue of the sky. I'd just miss it all."

Edward's fingers flew over the laptop keys, making notes. "Understandable," he said. "But I'm quite happy to make do with films. I never was much of an early riser, personally. Do continue."

"Along the same vein--oh, I'm sorry, that wasn't meant to be a joke," she said with a nervous giggle, "being pale just doesn't suit me." She pulled up her sleeves to reveal tanned forearms. "You see? I just suit a tan. If I'm pale, I look ill. The consumptive look, while it undeniably suits some people--" she gestured to Edward, who acknowledged with a modest bowing of his head, "-just isn't for me, I'm afraid."

His fingers moved frantically across the keyboard again, and Emma said, "Oh, where are my manners? Would you like a drink? Tea? Coffee? Some biscuits?"

"Ah, no. No, thank you. I'm afraid my system cannot cope with such foods any more." Edward patted his stomach in an endearing fashion. "I'm a one-drink man these days."

"Well, there you are: that's another thing. I love my food. If I were a vampire, I'd have to give up everything! Ice cream--they've got some very tasty flavours now, pizzas--well, all Italian food really..." She trailed off, her thoughts consumed by pasta, garlic and sauces.

"Cheeseburgers," Edward said dreamily, his eyes glazing over.

"Totally. And I like a beer now and again. Then there's chocolate--I'm not sure I could live without that." She stopped as she noticed the vampire's vacant expression. "Can I ask how long you've been a vampire?"

"What? Oh, just over two years," he said, snapping back to the present. "Yes, there are things I miss from my old life, but the benefits of vampirism are immeasurable."

"But blood for every meal? Sounds a bit boring to me," Emma said, interrupting his flow. "Does different people's blood taste... well, different?"

"Not really," he said. "It does depend if they've been eating strongly flavoured food. Curry comes through quite powerfully."

"I'm more of a Chinese takeout person myself," Emma said, nodding.

"The benefits," Edward said, trying to get back on track, "are very rewarding. We heal almost ten times faster than humans, and--"

"Has that been proven? Is there a series of experiments that show this?"

"Not that I know of. But it's common knowledge."

"It was common knowledge that the world was flat, with a great big waterfall at the edge, not so long ago," Emma said, wagging her finger at him. "You ought to get it clinically proven."

"I'll put it on my list of things to do," he said, more sharply than he had intended.

"I'm just saying..." Emma said, offended.

"And I'd like to thank you for pointing it out," Edward said, oozing charm once more, which mollified Emma. "This is just why I need all sorts of views-- to see what has been missed." He tapped more annotations into the computer on his lap. "Now where was I? Oh yes. So with our accelerated healing, we have the potential to live for a very long time indeed."

"There's another area for research! Perhaps if doctors were to study your physiological mechanisms, we'd find clues about how to combat diseases in humans." Her eyes shone with enthusiasm once more. "There will be clues in your blood about your fast healing, your immortality."

"Ah, immortality--would you like that?" Edward said with a spark of hope.

"Sounds interesting, but I can't say I'd fancy living in a box for eternity."

"You don't have to," Edward said, but was again interrupted.

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Live in a box. A coffin."

"As a matter of fact, yes. But it's really not necessary. I just thought it would be safer, in case my resting place was opened to the sunlight, or discovered--"

"That's another point!"

"What?" Emma saw he was becoming exasperated.

"People will hunt you down, if they aren't already. They most certainly will as vampirism becomes more popular. You can't assume we humans would be happy living as a race of sheep to provide you with food. We'd end up mortal enemies."

"There are people who want us to drink their blood."

"Really?" Emma's tone and raised eyebrows suggested she didn't believe a word of it.

"Yes." He sniffed. "They think we're..."

"Sexy? Superior beings?"

"Something like that, yes."

Emma laughed.

"Oh well," she said. "You'll always find lunatics, and I suppose it's a good thing that you can."

"They enjoy it."

"Perhaps. And what do you call these people? Worshippers? Founts? Providers?"

"Cows," he said, so quietly she could barely hear him.

"Cows? That's not very respectful, is it?" she said. "Possibly quite apt, but it'll be more fuel to the fire for the vampire hunters. 'Look at their attitude toward humans', they'll say. 'They treat us with scorn'. Then they'll track you all down and chop off your heads, or whatever is necessary. They're probably sharpening the stakes as we speak."

"I take your point," Edward said, subdued.

"It sounds like both races will be living in fear." She shook her head sadly, having pursued the theory to its logical end. Edward closed the laptop with a click and shoved it back into its black bag.

Emma spoke again, her tone determinedly lighter. "Is the running water myth true? Can you cross it?"

"Yes."

"Oh well, that's not so bad, is it?"

Edward realised that she was trying to cheer him up. He sighed.

"And mirrors?"

"We don't have a reflection," he said.

"How do you shave and not cut yourself?"

"We don't need to shave. All hair production stops."

"Another bonus. Still, you'd have to pick a good haircut before changing. One that will last the centuries."

"I will not stand for this! You're making fun of me now," he said, jumping to his feet. "I only wanted to make relations between humans and vampires civilised, and you're ruining everything."

"I'm sorry," Emma said, sounding insincere because she was trying to suppress a fit of giggles. She calmed herself and stood too. "Really, Edward, I'm sorry. It's been very interesting talking to you."

He accepted her apology like a gentleman, with a single nod, and said, "But you still don't think you'd want to be a vampire?"

"No thanks. Boxes, no garlic, and no sunshine: it's just not my sort of thing." She smiled at him, and was relieved to see him smile back. "But I should imagine you'll have no problem recruiting others. Two doors down there's a lovely goth girl, as nice as you'd ever meet--"

"Dinah? Yes, I saw her earlier. She turned me down too."

"She did?" Emma said, surprised. "Why?"

"She faints at the sight of blood."

"Oh dear," Emma said, having to smother her giggles again. They walked to her front door. Edward opened it and stepped outside.

"I think I've learned quite a bit tonight," he said.

"Well, I'm sorry if I've been rather negative," Emma said. "It's just not the lifestyle for me."

"I understand--I think."

"Like you said: cheeseburgers."

He nodded.

"No ill will, then?" Emma asked, seeing the pale skin of his face almost glowing in the gloom.

"No night time visits, is that what you mean?" he asked, and ran his pink tongue down the length of one fang, deliberate and slow, watching her. He laughed, a low and menacing sound, effective in the darkness. "No," he said. "No ill will. Enjoy your human life."

He turned and walked down her garden path with a swirl of his coat. Tendrils of low-lying mist curled up around him, obscuring his feet and making it look as if he floated back to the main road.

He has style; you have to give him that, she thought.

Her gate creaked closed and he was gone, vanished from sight.

Emma walked back into the house, a smile curving her lips. Entering her sitting room, she contemplated the stack of papers on her desk, the flashing cursor waiting for more enlightening words about toads to be entered. With a flap of her hand, she dismissed the work awaiting her and headed into the kitchen instead. She tugged open the fridge and grabbed a bag of liquid from the shelf. The plastic was cold and taut beneath her hand, and she gave it a quick shake before pushing the fridge door shut. She snipped a corner from the bag and poured the red liquid out into a tall glass before giving it ten seconds in the microwave; just enough to warm it, but not enough to cook it. On her way back to her sitting room, she picked up a straw and dropped it into the glass. She sucked some of the viscous fluid into her mouth, letting it swirl around her teeth and tongue, imparting its delicate flavour, before swallowing.

"Ahh," she sighed happily. She returned to her seat at the desk and spotted the pamphlet Edward had left, on the edge of the desk. A smile transformed her austere mouth again. The youth of today. They must be the most peculiar yet, and Emma had seen some strange people in her centuries on earth. She affixed her mouth on the tip of the straw and drew more of the warmed blood into her mouth.

Imagine that, she thought. Some young wanna-be lecturing her on the virtues of vampirism. It had been almost too tempting; she certainly hadn't been able to resist questioning his unswerving, unfounded beliefs. Him with the pointed porcelain caps on his canines, with his talk of feeding, 'cows', and sleeping in a coffin; with every aspect of his appearance intended to suggest a creature of the night. Anne Rice has a lot to answer for, she thought with a smile.

Emma laughed and shook her head. Had she ever been that naïve, that human? Just what would he have done had she revealed herself, offered to initiate him into the blood-group he so aspired to? Would he have prostrated himself at her feet--or more likely, fled in terror? Some things were better left as an idea; fiction is so much safer than reality.

Door to door vampires? Whatever would they think of next?

She chuckled and enjoyed the slurping sound that bounced off the walls as her straw searched for the final few drops of blood at the bottom of the glass. She hoped that mortals would never cease to provide such rich entertainment. But now, her slimy-skinned toads awaited her.

A thought struck her. There was an interesting research proposal in someone like Edward. Nothing that could ever be published, of course, but for her own scientific interest... yes. She could fully document the transformation from human to vampire with psychological questionnaires, blood analyses, a full chemical work up, in fact. Perhaps even find some answers to those questions she had posed the boy earlier that evening.

Putting her glass down, she picked up the pamphlet and turned it over. A phone number was, as she had hoped, printed at the bottom of the tract, with "Contact Us!" next to it. Smiling again, she placed the leaflet on top of her computer monitor, where she would be able to find it later, and started tapping in details of toad secretions with enthusiasm.

She would finish up her thesis. She had a new project to look forward to now.

About the Author
Leila is a Welsh dragon living in London where the ever-present rain makes her feel quite at home. Her horror and fantasy tales have been published in magazines, anthologies, and have won contests. She'd pretty much always rather be writing. http://sharp.clawz.com/

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