18. The Neighborhood Vampire

Chapter 18

The Neighborhood Vampire

H ugo held Alice as she slept. As he listened to her breath in and out, the rising and falling of the comforter soothed the troubled thoughts of his mind. The minutes and hours blended together, unsure of how much time had passed. It didn’t matter. Holding her safe and sound in his arms was what truly mattered. He tried to sleep. He closed his eyes hoping to fall into a restful slumber, but it never came.

The troubled thoughts plagued his mind. He replayed the events from the restaurant over and over. He analyzed every step, every misstep. The lunge into Sebastian’s chest repeated constantly, so certain each strike would find the target. Nevertheless, it always failed.

Where did I go wrong? Did I pull his shirt too hard and overshoot it? Why did I have to miss?

With a deep breath, Hugo closed his eyes. He tried to sleep, but a flurry of thoughts filled his mind. Even down in the wine cellar, he couldn’t sleep. The same thoughts. The same replays. The same memories. It was a relentless onslaught to his mind. He should be exhausted, like Alice, but his body was coursing with energy, reinvigorated by the two pints of blood he drank.

Maybe I don’t need as much sleep. Will I ever sleep again?

His nose twitched. He could smell the blood flowing through Alice’s body. The sweet ambrosia of his new life calling to him. Tormenting him. Her neck right there, so close to him.

What harm is there in a taste? Just a sweet, sweet taste.

His fangs elongated.

What are you doing, you monster?

He recoiled, withdrawing his fangs. A shiver ran down his spine. He shut his mouth. Hugo had to get away and do what he had done so many times before when faced with a troubled mind.

Hugo pulled back his arms, careful not to disturb her slumber. Alice shifted. He stopped. She nestled into a new position.

He continued tearing apart their intertwined bodies. He gathered his jeans and socks, piled on the floor from earlier, and continued for the bedroom door.

He paused in front of the bathroom. The thought of checking on Alice’s reflection passed. It might wake Alice, and he didn’t want to disturb her. He slipped out the door and shut it behind him, turning the knob so it wouldn’t make a sound. He pulled on his pants and socks and softly hoofed it down the steps. He put on his leather jacket, slipped into his shoes, grabbed his key hanging next to the front door, and left.

The night air was cold and damp. Dark clouds covered the skies and blocked out the welcoming moon. Ravenhill Drive was quiet. The houses were dark as everyone was in their beds for their nightly slumber—everyone except the neighborhood vampire.

Hugo tucked his hands into his jacket pockets. His shoulders pulled forward. A slight hunch in his posture. He thought of grabbing an umbrella, but the mist was refreshing on his head. He stepped off the porch and began the journey to calm his mind. A journey he had taken countless times . . . only this time, he was alone. There was no Max. There was no Alice. There was only what was left of himself.

Hugo’s eyes lingered on his former house, infested and transformed from the welcoming home it was when Elizabeth was alive. Its warmth. Its glow. Its radiance. All gone. Now, it was dark and cold. A tormented shell of its former glory. Hugo gave thought to running up those stairs, kicking down the door, and storming the house. He might not get them all, but he’d take some of them with him.

The house was dark. No lights from any windows. No signs of activity. No movement.

They’re not even there. Why don’t they camp out and surround the house?

He glanced behind him. The chill in the air sent a shiver down his back, and he briefly considered returning to the cozy embrace of his bed. Back to his embrace with Alice. Yet, a familiar pull urged him to press on.

Guilt, worry, and fear consumed his thoughts, casting a dark shadow over his mind. His once familiar world was a whirlwind of change and confusion. His former life was a distant memory, leaving him adrift and uncertain about how to move forward. Hugo knew exactly what he needed, a long walk to clear his mind.

He took a deep breath, savoring the crispness of the air. The chilly dampness rejuvenated his lungs. Hugo continued his journey.

He approached the town center. The ornate filigree lamp posts radiated like mini stars in the misting nighttime sky. The exterior of the buildings was bathed in an orangish glow. The interiors were dark. The street was quiet. No signs of life.

Hugo passed a street clock. It was well past midnight. He’d been out on these walks this late before. The familiar stillness of the night. He rather enjoyed it. No one asked him how he was doing. No one talked to him. It was only him and his thoughts. His tormenting thoughts. The thought he had of biting Alice a few minutes prior . . . He winced .

He passed Sylvia’s, the scene where his old life ended, and this new life began. The dark curtains were drawn, no lights from the door. It was empty. He clenched his fists. The images replayed in his mind over and over.

He had grabbed Sebastian’s shirt. It was tight.

Was it tight?

His hand slipped to his vest.

Or did I miss his shirt?

He had a fistful of the vest and pulled.

Did I pull him too far? Did I not pull him far enough?

He stabbed him in the chest. The stake hit something.

Or did I not push hard enough? It all happened so fast.

The memory changed each time it replayed.

He basked in the night sky, choosing not to stand under the awning. Dark clouds rolled past. The mist covered his face. His hair became soaked in small beads like dew on the grass. He closed his eyes.

What do I do now? Please tell me. Please. Help me, Elizabeth.

There was only silence.

He opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the glass door. His solemn face. His rain covered jacket. He pulled back on his upper lip. The sharp fangs were visible in the glass window. He pushed against one fang. Its sharp point pierced his thumb. The drop of blood dripped off his finger as the rain washed his thumb clean. The spot healed quickly. He shoved his hand back into his pocket.

I’m a monster.

He continued, passing a few more buildings. A light turned on behind him. Hugo turned. The distinct warm glow of the interior light illuminated the sidewalk outside. He sniffed. Even in the mist-strewn evening, he could smell it. It pulsed and flowed on the other side of the wall. Someone was in there. He could smell the blood. He turned back.

In the window, a neon sign hung—a hand with an eye in the center of the palm. A circle filled with stars and moons surrounded the hand. The pink light was like a beacon beckoning him to enter. An older woman struggled as she carried a cardboard box inside.

Her wild, gray hair was tucked under a grayish-white scarf. She wore a multi-colored, tie-dye billowing dress. Hugo recognized her. It was Madame Sophia, the fortune teller from the fall festival. She set the box on the counter, glimpsing Hugo in the window. She motioned for him to join her inside. Hugo grabbed the handle and entered.

Shelves and counter spaces filled the floor of the shop to create a maze-like path through the space. They were half full of various mystical items—crystal balls, candles, incense, statues of Egyptian goddesses. Overwhelmed, Hugo tried to absorb the sheer multitude of items, even with the barren spaces. It reminded him of their living room. She could have raided their living room and still not filled the space.

Our credit cards will be maxed out when Alice learns of this place. He chuckled.

“A creature of the night, I see,” Madame Sophia said.

“Excuse me?” Hugo asked.

“Out this late in the misty rain . . . Either you really love the night or something must be on your mind.”

“Oh, yeah. Uhh . . . The second, I guess. Needed to clear my head,” Hugo replied.

“Do you know what helps me clear my head? Movement. It really helps to calm the nerves,” she said.

“Is that why you’re here this late?”

“No. No. Heavens, no. I’m running behind schedule. I want to open my shop soon, and I still have to unpack and inventory everything. No rest for the weary.”

“Madame Sophia from the festival, right?”

“The one and only.”

“Interesting shop. I like it.”

“Thank you. ”

“My girlfriend will love this place. She alone will probably keep you in business.”

“Oh, yeah?” Madame Sophia asked. “She must be a very spiritual person.”

“You have no idea,” Hugo responded.

“Well, tell her to stop by. I’ll give her a reading for free.”

“Will do.”

Madame Sophia tapped the cardboard box she had placed on the counter. “Since you’re here, do you mind giving me a hand? There’s a heavy box on the ground. I need a second set of hands to lift it.”

“Sure,” Hugo replied. He moved over to her.

She pointed to a box on the ground. “This one here. I need it on the counter. You grab one side; I’ll grab the other.”

They bent down. Hugo pulled a corner of the box so he could slide his fingers underneath.

“Lift on three. One . . . two . . . three.”

Hugo strained as he lifted. The box was far heavier than he had expected. Madame Sophia lifted the box with ease, as if she had another unseen set of hands assisting her side. Hugo placed his corner onto the counter, grabbed the other end, and slid the box onto the counter. He could smell the blood pumping through her veins. He stepped to the other side of the counter.

“Are you sure the counter is rated for that much weight?” Hugo asked through a small laugh. “What’s in it?”

“I hope so,” she replied. “Stones and crystals. I overpacked the box, and with my bad back, it makes it easier to pull them out up here. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Well, I better get going and leave you to your work.”

“Here, let me give you something,” Madame Sophia said.

“That’s not necessary. I don’t mind it.”

She searched the room, not able to find the item she sought. “One moment. Wait here.” She disappeared into the back room.

“I don’t mind. Honest,” Hugo said .

He lifted his foot, ready to make a hasty retreat to the entrance door.

She returned carrying a deck of cards. “Please, let me give you a reading?”

“You don’t have to. Honest,” Hugo insisted as he backed away.

“A one card reading. It’ll be quick.”

He slumped his shoulders. “Sure. Okay.”

Madame Sophia shuffled the tarot cards, the corners tapping against each other. Each card rushed to take its place in the deck as they fell. She neatly aligned the cards and offered the deck to Hugo.

“Please cut,” she said.

He split the deck, setting his top half onto the counter.

She placed the bottom half on top. “Fate has been cast.”

She fanned out the cards, waving her hand over the cards, and continued, “Close your eyes and think on your troubles. The answer you seek is here in the cards. When you’re ready, tell me when to stop.”

Hugo closed his eyes. He thought of Sylvia and Sebastian. The restaurant. Alice. The pain he caused her. The sorrows she hid. Sleeping in the wine cellar. Drinking blood. Their embrace in bed. All of it played like still images in his mind over and over. He focused on Alice . . . on her leaning against the wall frame in his sweatshirt from earlier in the evening. Their time cuddling in bed. How he wished they could spend eternity together wrapped around each other.

“When,” Hugo said. He opened his eyes.

Madame Sophia drew out a card and flipped it over. It was an image of a man hanging upside down by a foot on a T-shaped wooden cross, one foot behind him and his arms behind his back.

“The hanged man,” Madame Sophia said. “Interesting.”

“Is it good or bad?”

“Well . . .” She paused. “It could be either. It’s about letting go, perhaps letting go of what troubles you. It could also be a decision you have to make . . . something you’re stuck on. Perhaps a sacrifice you need to make. Maybe something in your past. Maybe you have to let it go and accept it.”

“Well—” Hugo started. Hugo focused on the card, his eyes tracing every line and word. “There’s a lot in my past I need to let go of.”

“There you are. If you let go, you can move forward.”

Hugo raised the corner of his lip, giving a half smile. He bowed and nodded his head. “Thank you, but I should be going.”

“My pleasure. Thank you for your help.”

Hugo smiled at her, buried his hands in his pockets, and followed the maze out of the store. He stepped back into the misty rain. As he continued his familiar journey, the light from Madame Sophia’s store turned off. Hugo turned and paused. He thought about peeking back in, but continued toward the edge of the town square.

He stopped, listening to the cool breeze rustling through the leaves along the path which led to Wildgrove Park—his usual walking path. The path he took many times before to lose himself, to punish himself.

Her words echoed in his mind. Maybe you have to let it go and accept it.

He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the damp, fresh air.

His eyes followed the cracked sidewalk as it wound its way through a quiet street of Newbury Grove and provided a path home.

Let it go .

Hugo’s eyes darted back and forth between the allure of his familiar Wildgrove Park trail and the one leading to Alice. He diverted his path and started for home.

He followed the winding sidewalk through the neighborhood. He passed the silent, folk Victorian homes. Each step bolder, quicker. He pulled his shoulders back. He removed his hands from the jacket pockets. He thought of Alice sleeping in their bed at home, waiting for him. If they were to get through this, they could get through it together. He swung his arms. His pace quickened. He was heading home .

His nose twitched. It stopped him in his tracks. The smell. The intoxicating allure of the sweet, sweet smell. It was close. It was moving. He was drawn to it.

A light spilled forth from a house’s front window. A shadow moved inside. His eyes dilated. His nose flared. His fangs drew out. His hands twitched. The shadow continued moving through the home. Even though he had his daily feeding, his new body craved more—something fresh, something warm.

He tried to continue. He tried to move forward. If he could run home, there was a bag waiting for him in the refrigerator. But something stopped him. Something was pulling him. Something wanted him to take a step toward the person inside. His greatest fear was coming true. He couldn’t control himself. He lifted his foot and stepped off the sidewalk and onto the grass.

A glow cut through the darkness, bathing Hugo in purple light.

“Hugo . . . Please don’t,” Alice’s voice called to him.

He spun around. She stood on the sidewalk with her hand sticking out of the sleeve of her tailcoat and wielding a purple flame of arcane energy.

“Please don’t make me do it,” Alice pleaded.

Hugo pulled his foot back. His lips quivered, and his eyebrows drew together. “I- I don’t know what came over me. I smelled them and I . . .” his voice trailed off.

“Hugo, please come with me,” Alice said as she doused the flame.

“I want to, but I’m scared.”

“I know.”

“I’m scared I’m going to harm you. I don’t know what I’d do if I did.”

“Hugo, it’ll be okay. We can get through it together.”

“There are urges. Uncontrollable urges. It’s like my body is on fire. After you fell asleep, I thought about biting your neck. I didn’t know what to do, so I left. I thought I was fine,” he said, turning toward the house. “And then I smelled them moving around. It was like my body took over from my mind. ”

Alice moved toward Hugo. “It will be okay.”

“Stay back,” Hugo said, withdrawing from her. “I’m a monster.”

Alice extended her hand, moving closer. “You’re not a monster.”

“Then what am I?”

“You’re Hugo Dodds. The best boyfriend a witch could ever ask for,” Alice said. Each step drew her closer to him. She was within arm’s length. “Please. Please take my hand. Let’s go home.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

“We’re never going to be the same, will we?”

“No,” Alice answered.

Hugo lowered his head.

“That’s okay. We’ll get through it. We can beat this. Together. You and me. Let it go and take my hand.”

Let it go .

Hugo locked onto her emerald green eyes. “Promise me.”

“I promise you.”

Hugo took her hand. It was warm to the touch.

She pulled him closer, ending in a warm embrace on the damp, cold night. “I love you, Hugo Dodds. I promise you we’ll get through this together.”

“Thank you,” he said as they unlocked their embrace.

“It’s late. Let’s go home.”

They held hands as they journeyed home.