Chapter 1:
One
Faith Brady pulls up to the curb and lowers her sun visor to look in the mirror. She puckers her lips and puts on lipstick. A satin shimmery pink. Anything darker would only accentuate her unnaturally pale skin. She examines the result closely and smiles. “Perfect!” She pushes back her long red hair.
Flipping up the visor, she exits her Subaru. It’s a warm summer evening in Colorado. The sun hasn’t set and the mountains in the far distance are a brilliant turquoise. Faith excitedly walks up to the familiar townhouse for another game night of ‘Mahjong Mondays.’ Playing this Chinese tile game with a group of humans is more fun than she’s had in centuries.
Once inside, Faith sees a tray of freshly-baked brownies and pretends to swoon. “You’re killing me! They look so scrumptious!” She still speaks with a distinct Irish accent. No matter how many years ago she left Ireland, it’s as much a part of her as her ghostly pale skin and red hair.
Frieda raises one gray brow skeptically. “No matter what I bake, you won’t take a bite.”
“Only because I have such horrible allergies. One bite and I’ll be covered in hives from head to toe.”
They sit at the table, looking down at the tiles, when Frieda holds up her hand. “Before we start playing, I have to warn you Faith. I know this sounds crazy but there’s a vampire on the loose and I think he’s looking for you.”
Faith’s mouth drops open. “A what …?”
Natalie shakes her head. “Don’t listen to her. It’s just one magazine article.”
“A woman was found in New Jersey with two bite marks on her neck, drained of blood. Then a month later, a second one was found in Pennsylvania.” Frieda raises a gray, bushy eyebrow. “Strange, isn’t it that Transylvania sounds so much like Pennsylvania?”
Barb leans in closer to Faith. “Both girls were killed on the night of the new moon. I read about it, too. But it’s probably just some devil-worshipping kids.”
“Maybe,” Frieda continues. “But here’s the point. Both girls are dead ringers for you. I mean it’s like that Terminator movie. Someone’s hunting your lookalike. You need to be careful.”
Faith looks more puzzled than worried. “They both look like me?” A fly buzzes around her head.
“Here, see for yourself.” Frieda hands Faith the magazine, opening it to the article. But as she hands it over, the edge of the page slices her finger. “Ouch!” A small dab of blood appears on Frieda’s index finger.
Faith takes the magazine but her eyes are immediately drawn to the dark red blood. A sudden rush of adrenaline speeds up her heart rate. She tries to look away, but her head keeps turning back to the tiny red blossom. A trickle of blood runs down Frieda’s finger and Faith feels her control slipping. The sweet smell of iron floods her mouth with spit, forcing her canines to rapidly grow and sharpen. Her breath quickens. Her heart races.
Faith’s canines abruptly slip down below her lips, dripping saliva. There’s no turning back now. Natalie spots the fangs first, her expressive eyes going from confusion to terror in a heartbeat. She opens her mouth to scream but Faith kicks the table and it shoots into the air like a bullet. Tiles fly everywhere. Natalie tries to back away but the table edge hits her forehead with such force, she drops to the floor. Dead.
Barb leaps to her feet, mouth open. But the terror’s too raw and though she tries to scream, no sound escapes her lips. Running out of the room, she accidentally knocks over the serving table. Chocolate brownies bounce off the walls. She stops suddenly, turns around and races back to grab her purse off the floor. She reaches for it, her hand touching Natalie’s dead body. This time, a scream reverberates throughout the townhouse.
Only Frieda sits unmoving, staring entranced at the slow black swirls floating in Faith’s eyes creating a mesmerizing vortex. Holding Frieda’s head gently in both hands, Faith leans in close, her soft pink lips brushing Frieda’s neck.
Her mouth opens and two slick, sharp canines slice deeply into the old woman’s flesh. Sprays of warm blood spurt from Frieda’s neck into Faith’s mouth. She sucks in the blood like the most exquisite champagne.
Frieda’s husband rushes into the room, staring in horror. Tiles scatter the floor and clumps of brownies ooze down the walls. He rushes over to save his wife. “Get away from her! Leave her alone!” He hits Faith over the head and tries to yank his wife away. But without even disengaging her teeth, Faith thrusts out an arm and tosses him across the room as easily as brushing away a fly. He slams into the wall, his head at an odd angle.
***
Natalie sneezes, breaking the sudden quiet. Frieda covers her finger with a tissue and Barb waves her hand in front of Faith’s face. “Are you still with us?”
Faith does her best to look embarrassed. “Oh sorry. I drifted. I was thinking about those girls. And Wednesday’s the new moon.”
Barb lifts her phone and checks. “You’re right! The same night those girls were killed.”
“I want you to be extra careful,” Frieda warns. “And call me if you see anything suspicious.”
Faith nods. “I promise.” Three flies are buzzing around her head now. She has to dispose of them.
“But don’t call me,” Natalie grimaces. “The last thing I want to see is a vampire! Ugh!”
The magazine is flipped open and Faith stares at the photo of two dead girls. Both with long, red hair. “They do look like me.”
“I told you. Go ahead and take the magazine. I’ve already read it.”
There’s a close up of one girl’s neck showing two bloody puncture wounds, torn as if someone bit them in anger.
Barb looks over at the pictures. “Kids today. Disgusting.”
Dropping the magazine in her purse, Faith rubs her neck, remembering. “I need a bathroom break. I think you terrified me enough to wet my pants.”
Not frightened in the least, Faith strides into the bathroom, three flies trailing behind her. Staring at herself in the mirror, it’s the same face she’s looked at for more than 300 years. Straight hair the color of burnished copper hangs past her shoulders. There’s a scattering of freckles over her nose and green eyes that never change, regardless of the horrors she’s lived and seen.
Carefully, she lifts her upper lip but her canines are still normal. In two more days, they’ll grow long and sharp. But not tonight.
Death can wait until the new moon when the insatiable craving rises up and calls to her. She’ll answer whether she wants to or not. It’s not a choice. The need to kill and drink blood is compelling, overwhelming, a fury of desire that cannot be refused. Then just as quickly it’s over. The impulse wanes and everything returns to normal – until the next new moon.
Looking in the bathroom mirror, she daintily flicks away each fly with a sharp snap of her finger, sending them into a death spiral to the tile floor. Flies are drawn to vampires like carrion.
Every other animal and insect in the world give vampires a wide berth. Faith can hike the high mountains and never worry about being attacked by a bear or cougar or being stung by bees or no-see-ums. But flies must view undeads as walking corpses. It’s an annoyance all vampires deal with.
So Faith has several UV fly traps throughout her home and business. The UV light kills flies quietly, without a zap or buzz. It’s essential at the Food Bank where too many flies might raise ugly questions of spoilt meat.
There have been so many legends, distortions and misunderstandings of vampires over the centuries. The simple truth is that vampires are just normal people who had the bad luck to be bitten and turned.
Reapplying her lipstick, she kisses a tissue to remove excess lip gloss. Then swiftly she disposes of the dead flies in the lip-smudged tissue. Catching one last glance in the mirror, she wonders what would happen if her mahjong friends knew the truth.
A vampire’s life is nothing like it’s portrayed in books or movies … partying all night, sucking people’s blood like a grisly orgy. The life is mind-numbingly boring. There are no parties. Ever.
Vampires are solitary creatures of the night. We live alone and kill alone.
The only thing deadly to us is the sun. If even the tiniest shimmer or reflection of sunlight touches our skin, we spontaneously combust. A hideous fiery death.
But it’s boredom that finally destroys us. Year after year we spend endless hours hiding from sunlight, trapped inside a darkened room with books we’ve read and movies we’ve seen a hundred times.
We have no one to call because we have no friends. There are only the monthly killings to look forward to, a life-sustaining gorge of blood that keeps us alive but leaves behind years of guilt and regret.
So last spring, in a fit of despair, I threw open my front door and ran out into the afternoon sun. My fists flailed against the sky and I cursed God for what I’d become.
But nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. For the first time in over 300 years, the sun shone on my face.
Closing my eyes, I vividly recalled the vampire who turned me. A man whose face still terrifies. With eyes as dark as the devil himself and a nasty scar running through his right brow. He bit my neck so hard I screamed. And as I died, he whispered in the old tongue, “athraíonn rudaím.” Things change.
Well I guess that miserable shell of undead flesh was right. Because I did change. Now I am Faith Brady: DAYTIME vampire.