Blood Reunion

1

A single lamp burned in the back of the Jaguar dealership, where the fat salesman sat at his desk. We don’t usually stay open this late, he said nervously, but anything to oblige a customer. Do you … uh … want to test-drive the car first?

No, thanks, said the vampire. Did you park it outside?

Yes, sir. There’s some paperwork to finish first. The salesman reminded himself that he needed the commission on this sale. His shirt was sticky with cold sweat and his hands trembled as he pushed a handful of forms across the desk.

The vampire signed his name with a flourish. Paul Montclair.

The salesman glanced down at the forms, but his eyes were drawn, in spite of himself, to the strange face of the young man who sat on the other side of his desk. The boy looked no older than sixteen or seventeen. His skin was so white and smooth it was like bleached bone, and his dark eyes were lit with a strange violet light. The salesman licked his lips and forced himself to study the forms. You forgot to fill in your address, sir.

I’m moving. My current address is no good.

If you’ll just give us your new address, then. We’ll need it to mail you the title.

The vampire smiled slightly. General delivery will do fine.

The salesman mopped his brow with a handkerchief. He had noticed something peculiar about the boy’s fingernails. They looked glassy against the white flesh of his fingertips. Will you be using your old license plate? he choked out.

No, said the vampire. I’ll need a new one—this is how I want it to read. He wrote, BLVDLVV.

The salesman’s gaze was drawn to the page—anything rather than look at the boy’s face. Roman numerals, he observed. Boulevard 555? Is that an address?

It’s a private joke, actually.

If you’ll just write me a check, the salesman said hastily, we’ll be all done.

The vampire took a thick roll of cash from his pocket and peeled off hundred-dollar bills until he had paid the full price of the car. The salesman blinked at the stack of money. We’ll get you a receipt for that, he said, but he felt curiously reluctant to reach for it.

At last he forced himself to snatch the bills. He hurried off to the cashier’s office, but when he returned with a receipt, the boy was gone. Out the window the salesman saw the black Jaguar backing out of its parking place. He glanced down at the pile of papers. BLVDLVV. It hit him suddenly that it didn’t stand for Boulevard 555. It said, Blood Love. Horrified, he stared as the red taillights of the Jaguar disappeared down the dark highway.

Paul drove the Jaguar back to Georgetown. When he walked into the apartment, his father was pacing the floor. Where’ve you been? he demanded.

Paul shrugged.

Evie’s moved out! Richard’s eyes were narrowed in anger. I thought she had only gone away for a few days, but just now I looked in her closet, and all her clothes are gone. She’s taken off! She’s left me!

In the bedroom, Paul opened Evie’s jewelry case and saw that it was empty. His father was right. Unless she had gone away for the weekend positively blanketed in jewels, it was a sure thing she had moved out. He walked back into the living room and picked up the telephone. No dial tone.

I’ll kill her when I get hold of her, muttered Richard. She can’t do this to me and get away with it. I made her! She was just an ordinary housewife before I came along.

I’m moving out myself, as a matter of fact, said Paul.

Oh, no you don’t! His father’s eyes flashed fire. Don’t give me that!

Paul smiled. What are you going to do? he asked sarcastically. Kill me?

Don’t give me your lip, young man. I’ll slap you so hard your ears will ring.

Paul flinched. It would have been smarter to sneak away the way Evie had done, but he wanted the satisfaction of telling his father off. You think I’d stay here after the way you used Sophie to spy on me? He folded his arms and sneered with contempt.

I don’t know what you’re talking about. Richard took a step back.

Liar, Paul spat. Sophie as much as admitted that you put her up to spying on me. All the time I thought she loved me— his voice faltered —you were using her against me.

You’ve got it wrong, Paul. His father sank onto the couch.

Paul had noticed that his father seemed older and smaller since Aunt Gabrielle had died. His eyes were sunken and lifeless, as if grief had robbed him of his former vitality. Or maybe it was only that Paul wasn’t afraid of him anymore.

Look at you, snarled Paul. You’re a pathetic, broken-down old vampire. I wouldn’t live here with you if you paid me. I’m not surprised that Evie took off. You treated her like dirt. He rolled up his favorite jeans and tucked them under his arm. I guess you’ll just have to find somebody else to slap around now.

Richard buried his face in his hands. Gabrielle, he whispered, where are you?

Paul had braced himself to be hit, but he hadn’t expected this. He wondered if his father was losing his grip on reality. Gabrielle was gone forever—they both knew that.

Gabri told me if I was ever in trouble, she had something that could help me, said Richard, tears welling in his eyes. But now that I’m in trouble, she isn’t here even to tell me what she meant.

Paul shifted his weight uncomfortably. He knew what his aunt had been talking about—the vampire gold she had hidden behind her fireplace. Paul had found it, but he had no intention of sharing it with his father. He hardened his voice. Face up to the truth, he said. "I don’t need you, Evie doesn’t need you, and Aunt Gabrielle’s dead. Good-bye, Dad." He turned away quickly. Richard had never been a real father to him anyway.

Stop! yelled Richard. You know what Gabrielle was talking about, don’t you? Tell me! I’ll get it out of you. He sprang off the couch.

Paul slammed the door behind himself and ran for the emergency stairs. His heart was pounding violently. He paused just inside the fire door, breathing hard. He wished now that he hadn’t come back to face his father—he should have remembered the older vampire’s unnerving habit of guessing what was on his mind. Hearing the whine of the elevator, Paul sighed with relief. He was sure that by running fast he could beat his father downstairs.

Paul leapt down the stairwell and dashed into the underground parking garage. Luckily Richard didn’t know about the new Jaguar. The motor roared as Paul desperately raced up the garage’s ramp, speeding past the attendant’s booth and breaking through the wooden barrier with a loud crack. The car shot out onto the dimly lit street. For a moment Paul heard the sound of the wooden crossbar dragging against the pavement under the car. He turned the steering wheel sharply and careened around the corner.

Just then he spotted his father on the sidewalk. Panic seized him. He stabbed the accelerator, and the car rocketed ahead. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw his father’s dark figure running after him, shouting something incomprehensible. For a brief instant he had the horrible fear that his father was going to catch him. He ran a red light, and brakes screeched on either side of him. But the next moment he veered onto a side street, changing course, and his father vanished.

Paul sighed in relief. He was okay now.

He turned onto a wide avenue and headed out of Georgetown. Suddenly he laughed out loud. Freedom was fizzing in his blood like champagne. The Jaguar’s trunk was heavy with gold. And all of it was his!

Washington was a big city. If things worked out, his father would never find him.

When he was far from Georgetown, Paul finally slowed the car. His headlights beamed on a leather jacket and the white flash of slender legs above boots. Drawing closer, he saw it was a girl with purple hair. His mouth watered slightly. He slowed to a crawl and pulled up beside her.

Want a ride? he called.

The girl glanced at him. He stopped the car and flung the door open. She slid in at once, filling the car with the scent of grape Kool-Aid. Paul smiled. That must have been how she had dyed her hair. Now that he got a close look, he realized that she was younger than he was—maybe fifteen. Her face was powdered white, and her lips had been colored a startlingly dark red.

Cool car, she said, caressing its leather seat. Is it yours?

Paul nodded.

You must be rich.

Paul thought of the treasure in his trunk. I’m not exactly poor.

I guess you don’t have any curfews or your parents telling you what you can wear.

Not anymore. He grinned.

The girl fluffed the purple hair with one hand. Well, now I don’t have to put up with that junk anymore either.

You’ve run away? Paul was interested.

That’s right. My parents think I’m spending the night at a girlfriend’s house. I’ll be in New York before they even know I’m gone. I know a boy who lives there, and he said I could stay at his place anytime. She smiled. Maybe you’d like to drive me. I bet we could get there fast in this car.

Paul pulled the car over to the curb. No, I’m going to take you somewhere else—some place you’ve never been before. His voice was soft. He twirled a strand of her hair around his forefinger and smiled, revealing his fangs. Have you ever been with a vampire?

Her eyes widened. He jerked the strand of hair viciously and pulled her toward him.

That hurts, she whimpered. She kicked, and he felt her knee in his stomach. Get away from me! she cried, twisting desperately. What are you? Crazy?

Paul could sense the girl’s panic and felt excitement rising in him.

No! she gasped. But at that moment he sank his teeth into her neck and she sagged. Her breath became a ragged rattle. He held his grip, pressing his lips tightly to the flesh and greedily gulping her blood. Warmth flooded his body. He felt lighter than air. It was as if he were hovering above the car, a black angel of death, his wings beating with the rhythm of the girl’s breath. His fingertips kneaded the soft skin of her neck almost lovingly.

He realized finally that she was dead, but he felt so pleasantly warm from her blood that he couldn’t make himself move. He rubbed his cheek luxuriously against her leather jacket, feeling an odd sort of tenderness toward her. Suddenly he heard laughter outside the car and stiffened. Some people were passing them on the sidewalk.

He froze until the muffled voices grew faint and disappeared altogether. Then he slid back into his own seat and regarded the girl critically. Her mouth hung open and her skin, stretched tight over the bone, looked white and lifeless. Moments ago she had been a living, breathing girl. But now she was only a tawdry corpse. He gave a sharp shove to her shoulders and let her fall forward with her head hanging between her knees. Now he wouldn’t have to look at her face, and she wouldn’t be visible out the car window.

He started up the car and drove slowly, checking for alleys or side streets. At last he saw a Dumpster in the shadows. Scanning the area to make sure no one was coming, he got out and dragged the body out of the car. He hoisted it over his head and jackknifed it, headfirst, into the Dumpster. Her body sank into the garbage with a soft thump.

Paul turned away without interest and put the top of his car down. As he drove away, he felt warm with human blood, but somehow vaguely unsatisfied. It was hard to put his finger on what was wrong. He supposed he had wanted not just blood, but everything that made the girl human—her breath, her heart, her soul. It was a hunger that could not be satisfied. He frowned, feeling a sharp pang of loneliness.

Ari. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, chasing the image of his twin out of his mind. Only the throb of the car’s powerful engine comforted him. He did have his car, he reminded himself. That was something.

He gazed at the long shining hood stretching out before him. Buying the Jaguar had been easier than he’d thought it would be. It had taken only one call to a well-known South African collector to convert one of Aunt Gabrielle’s gold chalices into cash. Paul had told the collector that his name was Jessie Driscoll. He smiled now, thinking of how he had used the name of a classmate who had tried to kill him. What an irony!

Paul realized he was on a road outside the city now. He was a little vague about how he had gotten there. He drove as if in a dream, feeling all alone in the world—as if he had killed the last living human being on earth. The road was empty. Frost-covered pumpkin fields stretched into the distance on either side of him. All of a sudden he heard a rooster’s crow. He glanced uneasily at the sky. The night was still black, but gooseflesh rose on his arms. The rooster sensed, as he did, that morning was twitching at the horizon. Before long, he would need to find a place to hide.

2

Ari Montclair stared at the blackened ruin of her aunt’s mansion. She wore a wool scarf wrapped around her head, casting her eyes into deep shadow. The scarf was not much of a disguise, but on this moonlit night it would do. She knew she shouldn’t have come here—but she hadn’t been able to stop herself.

Paul. She hadn’t seen her brother since the night of the fire. Her longing for him was so fierce it seemed the sheer force of her will might make him come running out the door—only, the door was a heap of ashes. Where once an elegant mansion had stood, now only a pile of charred wood lay in the shadow of a shattered brick facade.

Paul had vanished into the darkness with their father that night. Why had she come back, half expecting to find him here where she had left him? It made no sense. Yet she was comforted somehow, staring at the black ruin. She wasn’t sure why, but when she was here, Paul seemed closer.

Ari gazed around her. The garage looked relatively undamaged. She wondered if by chance the basement had escaped the fire as well. Her mother’s belongings had been stored there. Or had every last memento of her former life been consumed?

Ari climbed the