Print Edition Vol. 16 - The Borderland

The Borderland

J.S. Mueller

My cell phone rang in my pocket. It was Wren, of course. She called around sunset nearly every evening, and when she didn't, it would likely be a bad night. I thumbed the talk button and put the phone to my ear. “Yeah?” 

“You comin' out?” 

Hunger hit like a gut-punch. A Pavlov's Dog reaction to her familiar, gravelly voice. “What do you think?” 

She laughed. “I got two. Don't take too long.” 

I pulled on a light jacket, raked my fingers through my hair. In the kitchen, I took a red and yellow espresso can from the otherwise empty fridge and pulled off the lid. Inside were little paper packets, each stamped with a set of puckered lips in red ink and the words “Kiss Me.” I slipped two bundles of ten into my jacket with my phone and keys. Then I lifted a blind and scanned the street. It was crawling with cars and people. The streetlights had flicked on, so with hunger gnawing my insides, I left the apartment. 

I stepped into the balmy night, joined the flow of pedestrians: the urban natives walking with that sure stride; the tourists ambling, stopping to stare into shop windows, gawking at the trans babes, punk kids and homeless sitting on stoops and in doorways. Music blared from the tattoo shop, blended into chaos halfway between it and the dude with a banjo on the corner. I used to care a lot about music, used to care about a lot of things, but I can't remember most of them now.  

I strode through the throngs, holding my breath, eyes on the pavement. So much skin, such a stew of aromas. I turned the corner, left the main drag. The streets were narrower and less well-lit. Car and foot traffic thinned, the noise grew distant. A small park was up ahead, our regular meeting spot. I crossed the street and entered at the corner. 

Wren sat on the back of a bench, wearing cutoff denim shorts and a pink sports bra, her bleached hair in a sloppy ponytail. There were two guys with her. She threw back her head, her raucous laughter shattering the quiet. She looked in my direction, teeth and hair bright against the growing darkness, and waved. 

I nodded and approached the trio. “What's up, girl?” 

“Drake!” Wren propelled herself off the bench and threw her arms around my neck, nearly knocked me off balance, her warmth and scent making me almost faint with hunger. 

“Don't do that,” I hissed into her ear and pushed her back to arm's length. 

She poked a shiny black fingernail into my sternum. “Oh Drake, you'd be so perfect if your dick worked.” She flashed a coy smile, put the finger between her pursed lips. 

“And you'd be perfect with those lips stapled together, crazy bitch.” It rolled off her back. “Who're your friends?”

 “This is Rick,” she looped her arm through his and dragged him over to meet me. He was tall and lanky, in his forties maybe, although it’s sometimes hard to tell with these types. Addiction and living rough can turn a young man old pretty quick. His t-shirt clung to a sunken chest, tattoos and scabs covered his thin arms. He nodded his greeting and pushed a greasy lock of hair behind one ear. “And this is Luca.” He was young, clean, and beautiful, his dark eyes clear, but full of pain and anticipation. I inhaled his scent, swallowed the saliva pooling in my mouth. 

“Hi, Luca. What can I do for you tonight? You guys need me to fix you up?”

Rick nodded. “Your friend here said you had some good shit.”

 “That's right. Pure as you’ll find anywhere.” 

The long, unshaven face creased into a smile. “Hook me up, man.” Wren grinned, bounced on the balls of her feet like some trashy, insane cheerleader. 

“Okay. But not here.” I started walking and Wren stuck her arm through mine, bobbed her head against my shoulder.

“Where we goin', Drake?” she asked. “To the rocks?” 

I nodded, and she squeezed my arm.

There was a pond halfway through the park, and near it, a wooded area on a hillside. There were some boulders there among the trees. It made for a good private spot to set up a fix or hang out and drink, but because of that, it was popular with the drunks and heads. 

I smelled him before I saw him: the alcohol-warmed blood; the doglike must of damp wool and sweat, and the rancid reek of unwashed hair. It attacked my nostrils like a sharp, aged cheese. I stopped, and my little party almost ran into me.

“What? What's up?” Rick wanted to know. 

“Somebody's there,” Wren said too loudly.

I shook her arm from mine. “Quiet. Stay here. I'll see if I can get him to move.” I stepped from the concrete walk onto the soft ground, moved up the hillside among the trees. I saw him clearly, tucked partially beneath an outcrop, draped in the shadow-lace of moonlight through the leaves. His gift of sleep had been aided by alcohol—wine and a bottom-shelf brand of bourbon, my nose suggested. It took a bit of the edge off my hunger.

I got up close, nudged the heap with the toe of my shoe. Nothing. “Hey, Gramps, wake up.” Still nothing.

“Is he dead?” Wren blared from several yards away.

I crouched low, rested a hand on his shoulder. I can't explain exactly what I did next, but it involved fixing my focus on him the way a cat might on a mouse a foot away. Everything else disappears. Reminds me of being a mortal boy long ago, focusing the dread orb’s beam through a lens, setting anthills aflame. 

He stirred under my hand, moaned. Then he rolled onto his back, turned his gray-bearded face to mine and looked up at me. He blinked, squeezed his eyes shut and looked again. 

I don't know what he saw, but I could feel a transformation, something going on with my eyes. He became as sharp and crisp to my gaze as summer days at the beach so long ago. Even in the dappled moonlight I saw the sweat beading on his brow, heard his raspy breath as if panted into my ear by a lover. I heard, almost felt, his heartbeat as it quickened. Time slowed, was expanded. 

“Would you mind relocating, Gramps? I kinda need this spot.”

He choked back a cry and rolled onto all fours, scrambled from me with amazing agility for an old derelict. He was upright within a few feet and tore down the hill, bouncing from tree to tree, almost running into my little group below. They parted for him and watched him go stumbling along the path, whimpering and muttering unintelligibly. 

“You didn't hurt him, did you?” Luca sounded concerned. 

“No. I think he just got spooked. Come on up.”

Rick was up beside me in a moment, nimble as a mountain goat, but winded by the short climb. Luca held onto the trees and picked his way with care. Wren cleared her throat, and he turned to her. She stretched out a hand for him to help her up. He clasped it, and she gave me a demure smile, batted her lashes theatrically.

“Shit, Wren, you've been up here a hundred times in the dark,” I told her.

She made a face. “New shoes. I don't wanna mess them up.” She seated herself on one of the large, flat boulders and pulled up her legs, wrapped her arms around her knees. Luca sat down beside her. He was fidgeting and wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He hadn't been doing junk long. His skin was still so fine, so unblemished. And he smelled so good.

Rick pulled out his kit--a Ziploc bag with a stub of candle, a cooker, lighter and a couple sharps—and squatted down, dumped them out on the rock. Luca pulled out his rig from a large, leather wallet, laid each item out like it was a Chinese tea ceremony.  

“You boys forgetting something? What exactly do you intend to shoot up?” They looked up at me at the same time. I couldn't' help but smile. Rick fumbled for his cash and offered the wad to me like an homage. I pocketed it without counting. 

Luca held out his cash. I gripped his hand a moment as I took it, felt his pulse and my own gnawing hunger. But there was something more, something different. Longing. Like I had for my lost mortality. Like I could almost taste my lost life through him. 

His eyes were wide. “Is that okay?”

I released his hand, took the money. “Yeah, that's right.” 

Wren was watching me with more focus than I thought her capable of. I returned her hard stare, then reached into my pocket for the heroin. I handed Rick and Luca a bundle each. “There you go, friends. Pristine dope. Pure as the Mother of God.” 

I can’t bear to watch a fix going down. I'm not squeamish—that would be pretty ridiculous given my manner of feeding—but watching the needle enter a vein, blood bloom in the spike on the draw, it's too much. I can't be sure of controlling my impulses at that point. So, I looked at the moonlight through the trees, then glanced down at Wren. 

Her eyes were on me, fingernail between her teeth. “Hungry?” she asked. 

I forced a smile. “I could go for a bite.” 

She slapped her bare thigh and laughed. 

My head was full of Luca, the dope-laced blood in his veins, what it would taste like flowing into my mouth, filling me, easing the agonizing emptiness; and the heroin flowing through him, how it would envelope me in peace, allowing me to dream like a mortal again for a little while. 

Rick moaned. I listened, could hear the change in his respiration. I looked to him and saw him slumped over, greasy hair hanging almost to his lap, going into a nod. His dirty cargo pants were open and a sharp was hanging out of a vein a few inches southeast of his navel. Apparently, his other pipes were shot. 

Luca pulled down his sleeve and tried to coil up the set of earbuds he’d just tied off with. He couldn't finish the job, dropped them in his lap. Then he leaned back and sighed, eyes closed, mouth open, adrift on Morphia's gentle waves. I crouched beside him and breathed him in, reached out a hand and touched his hair. He opened his eyes for a moment and smiled, then closed them again.

“Now,” Wren whispered. “Take him, Drake. Take him.” Her recompense for reeling in my One-Time-Only clients was that I sometimes allowed her to watch me dispatch them. It seemed to give her a thrill. 

“Shut up.” My tongue danced along the edge of my teeth. My fingers ran from his dark curls down the side of his face, to his neck. His blood pulsed beneath my fingertips. In this body of mine where so many things no longer functioned, my salivary glands were over-active, and I swallowed. 

“Drake,” Wren whined, “take him!” 

I felt that same change in me I'd felt with the old man. I whipped my head around and bared my teeth. Any normal person would have been quaking. This was Wren, however, and the Sanity ship had long ago left the harbor without her on board. 

She scowled at me, then pouted. “Geezus, Drake. He's just a yummy blood bag.”

I threw out an arm, backhanded her. Her head snapped to the side and she flew backward off the rock. It was an impulse. I was in such agony, so gripped by hunger, yet not since my first victim had I felt such hesitation. And that had ended with my first taste of blood and the relief it offered. 

I descended on Luca, slid a hand behind his head, paused, my face close enough to his that I could feel his breath.

At my back, Rick coughed, cleared his throat. “Hey, man, what are y--”

I rose from Luca, spun around and pounced, pinned Rick flat. I slammed the heel of my palm up under his bony jaw to throw back his head. The hunger had been made to wait too long. I tore straight into his carotid artery, a torrent of blood hitting the back of my throat so fast I gulped to keep up. 

Within seconds he went limp and the flow diminished. I crawled back from him, leaned against a boulder beside Luca, who slept on. I closed my eyes.

Rick had apparently shot up a walloping hit of heroin. I felt a beautiful peace descending—or rather, come crashing down on me like a two-ton pleasant dream. How long had it been since I'd dreamed? The hunger was appeased, the agony and agitation abated. I didn't care anymore that the blood had an weird aftertaste, was tainted with god-knows-what, and could have an unexpected effect on me.  

I opened my eyes and turned to look at Luca. I was no longer hungry, but I still felt a sense of longing. I was sure that what ran through his veins was a most wonderful vintage. And yet, I was glad that he was still breathing. 

“So, you got this creampuff here, but you're dumpster-diving?” Wren had climbed back up onto the rock while I was in my post-binge stupor. She stood above me, arms crossed over her chest. Her bare legs were dirty, her hair decorated with bits of organic debris, and her cheekbone bore a patch of livid red that was swelling. I felt a little ashamed.

“Sorry I hit you, Wren. But you got no place telling me who to take or when.” We both looked at Rick's corpse. His eyes were wide open, staring at the starless sky through the foliage. “He startled me. I was running on instinct.” 

She was quiet for a moment. It was a rare thing. “Whatcha gonna do with him?”

“Just leave him here.”

“No, I mean Cream-Puff. Put him on the shelf and save him for a special occasion?”

“Wren, can you just shut up? I'll let him go for now. He'll be checking in with you in a couple days, if not sooner.” I hoped he would be anyway. 

“And you? What are you doing tonight?”

I felt pretty good. Good enough to spend the hours before dawn walking around, pretending I was human again. Plenty to do in the city at night. Just not with Wren. 

I smiled. “I dunno. Maybe I'll go home. Bake a cake or something.”

That crazy, raucous laugh of hers. “Lemme come with you. I like you when you're fed.”
I beat-boxed a few seconds, slapped a beat out on my thighs. 

“I like you when you're fed,

“It's cool that you are dead,

“Can I get inside your head?

“I wanna climb into your bed.”

She laughed again. “Lotta good that would do me.”  She sat and put her head on my shoulder, slipped a hand up under my shirt. She ran a fingernail around my nipple. “We could get you a strap-on,” she purred into my ear. 

Maybe the dope was making me giddy, but I found the comment funny instead of sad or frustrating, and I chuckled. “Go find yourself a live one, Wren. We really need to get outta here.” I nodded at Rick. 

Wren sighed. “Yeah, we do.” 

I looked over at Luca. His eyelids were fluttering. “Girl... you better go now. I'll clean up.”

“But Drake--”

I worked a hand into my pocket and pulled out the cash from Luca and Rick. I gave it to Wren. “You'll call me tomorrow, right?”

“I don't want money.”

“Hey, buy yourself something pretty. You show me tomorrow.”

She thought about it for a moment. A smile stretched across her face. “Like what?”

“I dunno. Surprise me.”

Wren stood and brushed herself off. Picked bits of leaves out of her hair, tugged her shorts down over her butt. She tipped her chin at Luca. “He's up.”

I got up immediately, had to take advantage of Luca's high and the darkness, get him out of here before he saw Rick's corpse. Wren moved to block his view. 

“So,” I said to him as he began to come out of his nod, “Good shit?”

He gave me a charming, dopey smile, eyelids at half-mast. “I feel great.”

Wren handed him his earbuds, helped him to his feet. “Come along, little cream-puff. Let's see what trouble we can get into tonight.” She guided him down the hill. I plucked the needle from Rick's groin and tossed it, grabbed the unused bags of heroin. Then I shoved his body under the little overhang where the old man had been and followed. 

###

It was a dumbass idea from the start. That I could somehow hang on to Luca, keep him near me and just savor his beauty, borrow his warmth. Like a fox keeping a pet chicken. But I couldn’t drop the thought. I waited, sure he'd be back for more quality dope. Two nights after our last meet-up I still hadn't gotten a call from Wren, and she wasn't answering mine. I started to worry something had happened to her.  

I don’t like hunting. I don’t want to be seen much or earn some kind of street rep as a dealer. Can’t risk junkies connecting me with their missing compadres. So, I went without the heroin, just grabbing whatever was most convenient, whatever could be taken without notice. But I was getting pretty agitated. I'd tried snorting, even eating smack in the past, but knew that without the blood, I'd be dry heaving. 

On the third night Wren called. The moment I saw her name on my phone, I felt like I might crawl out of my skin, the hunger and restlessness were so acute. I was ready to spit venom by then but managed to get a grip. I didn't want to risk her hanging up on me.

“Hey, girl, where you been?”

“You hungry?” 

“Famished. You got something for--”

“See ya soon.” She hung up. 

Wren was there on the bench. With Luca. My chest tightened, and I couldn't tell if it was the joy of seeing him again, or the dreadful fact that there was no other with him to feed on. 

I was there beside them before they'd seen me coming. Wren gasped. Luca jumped, too, at my sudden appearance. 

“Wow,” he said. “Where did you come from?”

“I'm sneaky like that. Good to see you again, Luca.” That hardly described what I felt: I wanted to ravish him in every possible way. My eyes kept moving between his lips and his throat.  

Wren's hair was in two braids, and she played with one as she held me in her gaze. 

“My only client tonight?” I asked.

“Yep,” she said. “Whatever will you do?” The theatrical lash-batting again.

Luca was pale, edgy. “Rick... I heard he's dead.”

I broke my gaze from his throat. “Yeah? Well, maybe he got too eager with the pure stuff. He didn't look like he was in good shape anyway.” No big deal for junkies to drop dead. Just mine did so with alarming regularity. 

“I heard he might have been attacked by something.”

I’d have blushed if I could. “You mean someone?”

“No, I mean something. This guy Aquila said he was in the back of a patrol car, heard the cops talking. They said it looked like an animal went for his throat.” Luca's beautiful brow furrowed.

The memory of all that blood and heroin gushing into my mouth was making me dizzy. “Think maybe a wild dog went after him?”

“I dunno.”

“I'll bet it was a wolf,” Wren interjected. “Definitely a wolf.”

 I smirked. “Sure, Wren; in the city.”

“Weirder things happen.” She gave me a pointed look.

 I let it blow past me, turned back to Luca. “Were you and Rick homies?”

“No. I never met him before the other night.”

 I needed to feed before this dagger-sharp hunger goaded me into doing something reckless. I couldn't afford that. “Listen, Luca, I only got a couple hits on me now. I'm supposed to get some more tomorrow. I'll give you what I got, and if you want more, I can hook up with you tomorrow evening. I'll give you my cell number. That okay?”

Wren looked fired up to say something, but I shot her a glance that took the heat off her tongue. She shut her mouth.

“Yeah, that's fine,” Luca said. 

I reached into my jacket and came out with the dope and a pen. I palmed the packets. “Got something to write on?” He didn't, so I took his hand, felt a jolt like electricity course up my arm as I wrote my number on his wrist, then slipped the dope to him. “Don't give that number out to anyone, right? I mean it. Just consider this a little gratis.” He looked at me like he didn't understand what I was saying. “A gift. Because I think you'll be a good client. I give perks to good clients. You okay with that?”

Wren looked about to burst, wringing the hem of her t-shirt. I was holding back a tsunami myself, the salt and musk of skin with its undercurrent of blood was almost overpowering. “Go on, Luca. You call me tomorrow evening.” I watched him go. Then I went the opposite direction. 

Wren trotted to keep up with my long strides. “What the hell are you doing, Drake? Why you letting him go? Did you already have something tonight?” 

“No, I'm starving. But I'm not ready to take Luca out yet.” I stopped and waited at the corner for a break in the traffic. 

“What do you plan to do? Are you gonna keep him? Just because he's a cute little creampuff? I'm the one who does everything for you! I'm the one who deserves to--”

“To what?” I spun to face her. “To what, Wren? Be damned like me?  No, I don't wanna do that to him. I don't wish that on anybody, 'cause there's nobody I hate that much. That's not the plan.” 

“What is the plan?”

“I don't know. But I sure as hell don't have to consult with you or get your approval.”

We crossed. “Where you going now, Drake?” 

“Get a bite to eat.”

“Drake?”

“What?” 

“Why won't you change me over? I'll keep you company. I won't miss the sun. I sleep most of the day anyway. It wouldn't bother me to kill anybody.”

It probably wouldn't because she was a few quarts shy of a pint. But the thought of killing had been, once upon a time, repugnant to me. In a sense, it still was. I used every euphemism in the book to keep from thinking about the fact that I drank the blood of humans so that I could still resemble one. I couldn’t dwell on what I’d become. Couldn’t think too much about who I once was, either. I had to exist neither here nor there. 

“Hey, Drake...”

“What is it?”

“Wanna see what I got with the money?”

“Wren, not right now; I need a drink, know what I mean?” We were back to where people thronged the sidewalks. 

“Can I come watch?” 

“No. The ones you bring in. That's the deal.” 

“Drake, look!” 

She'd stopped, pulled her t-shirt up over her head. She turned sideways and held her arms aloft. On her side was a fresh tattoo, an artistic rendering of the late, great Bela Lugosi in his legendary role. Wren beamed, bounced on her toes. Pedestrians flowed around us.

“Like it, Drake?”

I smiled. “Yeah, Wren. Nice.”

###

Luca called the next evening. Actually, he called several times, but I wasn't up yet. By the time I picked up the phone, as soon as the streetlights flickered on, he was wound pretty tight. 

“I've been trying to reach you,” he said. 

“Sorry, man. My phone was in my jacket with the ringer off. I took a nap.” A second call beeped in. Wren. First beep-in ever. “Luca, can you hang on a sec? I got another call.” I was hoping she found me some take-out. I didn't want to be hungry when I saw Luca. “Hey girl, what's going on?”

“Can you come out and play?”

“What, you got something for me?” I swallowed back my saliva.

“Come see.” She hung up.

“Dammit.” I switched back to Luca. “Hey, you there?”

“Yeah, I'm here.”

My skin prickled at the sound of his voice. “I got something I gotta do. I'll have to hook up with you a little later.”

“How much later?” He didn’t sound happy.

“Gimme an hour. Look, I'll tell you where I live. You meet me here, at my place.” That came out of my mouth before I really knew what I was saying. What was it about this guy that turned my brain to shit, made me take risks I'd never taken before? I had never had a soul up to my apartment, never given out my address to anyone. But here I was, giving it to Luca.

That's what was on my mind as I made my way to the park to meet Wren. She was perched on our bench, as usual. But she was alone.

The animal instinct in me thrilled at the sight of prey so easily taken. Only Wren wasn't prey. The reasoning part of me had the sense to know that this was a bad situation. I was hungry, and she was vulnerable. Furthermore, she never knew where to draw the line; she flirted with death continually. 

My whole body tingled. I came up fast behind her, leaned toward her ear. “You all alone?” 

She started, nearly lost her balance. “Geezus, Drake! Don't do that!”

“Why are you alone, Wren? Why'd you call me out?”

She took a moment to compose herself. “Aw, Drake... I just wanted a little private time with you. You know, just you and me.”  

Without consciously doing anything, I felt the shift in my perception. Wren saw something, too. She stopped playing coy and hopped off the bench, took a step toward me. I stepped back. “Wren, you dumb little bitch, I'm gonna go now. Don't fuck with me like this again.”  It took some force of will, but I started to walk away from her.

“No, listen... I'm not afraid. I want you to turn me. I want to be like you, Drake. A nighttime hunter. Beautiful and deadly.”

I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You don't know what the hell you're talking about, you nutcase.”  I turned to face her again, breathing through my mouth to avoid taking in her sweat-and-dollar-store-perfume scent. “You think it's just a change in circadian rhythm and diet, and you become strong and undying? It's so much more than that. It's not just your human nature that dies. Everything you love about being alive dies, too. Sunrises and sunsets. Food. Watching kids play in the park. Relationships. Making love. It all dies.” I turned from her, my mouth watering, acute pain stabbing at my stomach. “Go home, Wren. No way am I ever gonna do that to you or anyone else.” I started to walk away, fast. I didn't think I could hold out much longer. 

“Drake!” I heard her running up behind me, then I felt her hand on my arm. “Drake, you have to! You owe me! You're gonna change Luca, aren't you? Why him? I'm the one who does everything for you!” 

I could taste blood in my mouth before I even turned around. 

When I did, she gasped. We were still close to the footpath, so I dragged her over to the shadow of a nearby oak. Wren only made whimpering sounds, like a small animal.

“This is what you want, right? This is what you want to be,” I hissed.

Her face was white. She stammered, “Drake, no... I love you.”  

“You crazy bitch, you can't love this!” I reached behind her head and grabbed her by the hair, jerked her head back so savagely I heard her neck snap, and she went limp. I pressed her rag-doll body against the tree with my own, sank my teeth into her salty skin. Any passerby might have mistaken us for lovers. A shudder of relief and pleasure ran through me. 

But breaking her neck in my haste was a mistake. The flow was tapering off as her blood pressure dropped. I could only take the edge off my appetite before I found myself having to suck in order to draw blood. 

Only after I was somewhat sated was I able to think clearly. I held Wren, embraced her, told her I was sorry. My eyes prickled with the tears I couldn’t shed. Her head flopped back and I saw the small wound surrounded by a bruise the size of my palm, from trying to draw her blood before it stagnated in her veins. I left her seated beneath the tree, her chin touching her collarbone at a sickening angle.

I couldn't go home still hungry, knowing that Luca might be there. I walked the streets until I picked up a scent. Guy with dirty auburn hair and jailhouse tattoos. I saw the desperate eyes and track marks and asked if he'd work for trade. He said, “Depends.” I took a bag from my pocket and in a long-practiced gesture that looked like a handshake, I passed it off. The caution was for nothing. He opened it right there and dipped his little finger into it, tasted it and nodded. 

A couple minutes later I followed him into an alley that reeked of piss and sour garbage. There, beside a dumpster, he laid out his rig and shot it up. I didn't even wait for him to pull out the needle, just took him there, left the body where it sat. 

I staggered to my feet and leaned against the building for a minute or so. Blood and heroin soothed me, slowed my brain, made me think like a human again, and I thought about the loss of Wren. No, I didn't love her, but she’d loved me. There was no one else in this world who did, and I had removed her from it. 

All these human thoughts brought me back to Luca. It had been well over an hour since I'd told him to meet me at my place. He was leaning on car in front of my building when I showed up. His face was pinched with tension. He pushed off the car and stepped up to me. “I was gonna give you a few more minutes and then leave.” 

“Sorry. My connection took his time getting to business. Couldn't be helped.”

His expression relaxed. “Yeah, well... that's understandable, I guess.”

“I'm here now,” I said, and patted my pocket. “C'mon up.”

He followed me up the stairs to the third floor. And I invited him in.

###

Like I said, it was foolishness to think I could keep him around and have some kind of human relationship with him. The novelty of these feelings, of what I was doing--inviting a living, warm-blooded human being into my home without the intention of feeding--it was exciting. I felt thrilled as I hadn't been in decades. 

I opened the door and stepped into my apartment. “C'mon in, Luca. I don't have a lot of visitors, so--” I turned around and he was still on the threshold. “Hey, you wanna come in? Don't worry, I don't bite,” I lied. 

“You gonna turn on a light?” 

I wasn't used to turning on the light. In fact, a couple lamps in the place didn't even have bulbs in them. “Sorry.” I flipped on the switch by the door. “I know my way around the furniture, so I don't always turn them on. C’mon in.” 

He did. And as he looked around my living-slash-dining area, I noticed for the first time how sparse it was. It was a space with a few props, lacking details. No pictures on the walls or anywhere else. No books or magazines lying around. Dust on most horizontal surfaces. An abandoned stage.

I turned on another light. “I—haven’t spent a lot of time here lately. Been staying with a friend.” He shivered. I could see he was in bad shape, dope sick. The chit-chat could wait. “Can I fix you up, Luca? I'll sell you a bundle if you want, but this fix is on me. For making you wait.”

Some of the tension left his face. “That's good of you. Thanks.”

He set up at the coffee table that had never had anything on its surface but dust. He took off his jacket and pushed up a sleeve. Tied off with his earbud cord. The veins stood proud on his arm, and I had to look away. 

“You squeamish about needles?” he asked.

“A little.”

“I used to be,” he said. “But I got over it pretty quickly.” 

“Yeah, I imagine you’d have to.” I heard him suck in breath as he stuck the needle in. I tried to not think about the heroin entering his bloodstream. Tried to not think about his blood at all. Instead, I thought about the fact that he was here, in my apartment, and I did not intend to kill him. I wondered if any others of my kind had ever had a human companion. And I wondered if Luca would even want to keep company with me if there wasn't the draw of pure product. And I thought again of Wren.

I heard Luca make a sound halfway between a sigh and a moan and guessed that he was done. I looked at him, and he was leaning back on the sofa, smiling at me, eyelids heavy. It stole the breath from my lungs. 

“Damn... that's some wonderful stuff there.”  

“Uh huh. Luca, where do you live?”

“In Bellingham, with my folks until a few weeks ago. My dad found my gear, threw me out. Didn't want me around my younger siblings.” 

“So, where you staying?”

“With whoever takes me home.” His dark eyes closed, and he leaned back against the cushions. It was the closest I'd come to feeling joy since I'd lost the daylight. I stood and paced around the apartment, too restless to stay still. I felt light; I felt... alive.

My mind raced. How could I keep him here without making him a prisoner? I didn't want a hostage. I wanted Luca to want to be here with me.

Food. He would need to eat, and I had nothing on hand. I sat down on the sofa near him. Dark-lashed eyes opened to slits and he gazed at me, smiled. I wanted so much to touch him, run my fingers through his wavy hair. “Hey, I'm thinking about running out to grab some food. I'm worse off than Old Mother Hubbard here. I can grab some stuff at the bodega. Or get some take out from the Chinese place across the street.” 

“Chinese sounds good.” 

“Will you be okay here? I'll be back in maybe twenty minutes.”

“Sure. I'll just kick back.” He grabbed my sleeve as I stood to go. “Hey, thanks, Drake. You're real decent. I'm glad Wren hooked us up.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

I was afraid to leave, afraid of coming back to an empty apartment. But I figured I had a better shot at keeping him around if I had some provisions. I hit the Chinese takeout and just ordered what looked good. Then I picked up some sodas, cookies, milk, and cereal at the bodega. 

I stood before my apartment door, multiple bags hanging from my wrist, hesitating before turning the key in the lock, afraid he'd fled. I went in. Luca wasn't on the sofa. I closed the door quietly, sniffed. I smelled the pungent, sweet odor of weed. And his scent. He was still here. 

“Luca?” 

He came out of the bathroom. “You really haven’t stayed here in a while. There's dust in the tub. Water in the toilet was just about evaporated.” He closed the bathroom door and leaned on it, held out a lit joint. 

“No, I don’t smoke. What were you doing?” 

He laughed. “I had to take a leak. What, you want me to use the kitchen sink?”

My face prickled like it wanted to blush. “I—I brought some food.” I put it on the coffee table and started unpacking the bags. He spotted the Cokes and opened one, drank half of it down. His head tipped back, throat exposed like an offering. I had to retreat to the kitchen. “I might have some bowls...” 

I stood by the virginal stove trembling. I'd fed, but in this incarnation hunger and lust were all bound together. Trying to separate the desire to fondle and kiss from the desire to feed and kill was like attempting to divide blood from water after they've mingled. I closed my eyes and tried to steady myself, drum up my willpower. 

In the living room, Luca knelt by the coffee table and sampled the Chinese food. “Drake, man, you gotta try this Lo Mein.” He used the disposable bamboo chopsticks with skill, picked up a mess of noodles and ate. I enjoyed the sight of him devouring food but felt no craving for it myself. I knew that it would make it only halfway down before coming up on me again. He gestured for me to sit. “Don't you like Chinese?”

“Sure. I'm just not in the mood for it right now.” I sat on the sofa.

Luca picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth. He got up from the floor, sat close to me. Too close. “Maybe you're more in the mood for Italian.”

 I shifted over a few inches. “What do you think you're doing?”

“You've been nice to me. Y'know... the dope, dinner. I'm just trying to return the favor.”

“How exactly?” Hunger began chewing at the edges of my willpower.

“It's not like I don't have money to buy the dope. I do. I just thought you seemed to be into me. I've turned dates when I had to. I'm pretty good, or so I've been told.” The palm of his free left hand brushed over his right nipple in lazy circles. His dark eyes locked onto mine.

“You think that I want sex from you? Is that what you think? That the dope and dinner is all about me wanting sex?” 

“No, I don't think that.” He put down the chopsticks and shifted his body to face me. “I think maybe you want my blood.” 

A shitstorm of pinpricks broke out all over me. My mouth went dry. “Tell me what you mean by that.”

“Okay... I saw what you did to Rick.”

“You... saw.”

 “Yeah, I was pretty fucked up, figured I was just tripping. But after I heard about Rick having been attacked by something, I started thinking hard about it. And it seems maybe I wasn't tripping balls after all.”

I rose from the sofa and moved to the window, lifted the blinds and looked down at the street. He'd seen me tear into Rick's throat, and yet here he was, flirting with me, coming on to me. “Why are you here?” I asked, not looking at him. “I'm either a deranged murderer who drinks blood and thinks he's a vampire, or--”

“Or you're really a vampire. I think evidence sort of points to the latter. And there's a shitload of evidence, actually.”

“You should be terrified.” I dropped the blinds and faced him. 

“Initially I was.” He got up, picked up his drink, and came toward me. “But you've had more than one opportunity to end my life. and I'm still here. I'm guessing you don't typically invite victims up to your place, don’t eat where you shit. I think you want me alive.”  He stopped a foot in front of me, close enough that his warmth and scent made my mouth water. Close enough that I felt a very human urge to kiss him, to press my body up against his, have his warm skin take the chill from mine.

“I do. I want you alive. But it takes a fuckton of self-control to be around you, and frankly--” I ran my trembling fingers from his cheekbone down along the side of his neck, feeling the rushing blood beneath them, “Frankly, I don’t know how long I can maintain that.” 

His lips stretched into a grin, and he took my hand, held it to his chest where his pulse beat against my palm. “The thing is, you can't have me alive.”

I felt almost dizzy. “Why is that?”  

“Because I'm dying.” 

It took a moment for the words to wax meaningful. “You're dying?”

He told me that a year ago the leukemia he'd survived as a child had returned. He decided that there was no way he'd go through hospitalizations, chemo and endless blood tests again. He would live what time he had left in this world on his own terms. 

“Then you came along,” he said. “And I saw that there was another option.”

I withdrew my hand. “And that is...?”

“I think you know.”

The hair stood at the back of my neck. “Uh-uh, I won’t do that. You have no idea what the trade-off is.” 

He looked at me as if I was speaking in tongues. Then his face flushed. “My alternative is death.  Are you telling me you'd rather have me eaten by cancer, and then by worms and decay?” 

He was so lovely. His sable eyes and shining dark hair, his beautiful bone structure. I hated to think of him taken by death in his prime. But to banish him to the night, to a diet of human blood, to the existence of a solitary hunter, wasn't that worse?

“You don't know what it's like. How lonely it is.”

“It doesn't have to be. Drake, I thought maybe you felt something for me.”

“I do. Hunger. Bloodlust.”

“Something else.” 

“I don't know.” It had been so long since I'd felt human love; it was so intermingled with lizard-brain urges, I couldn't be sure that what I felt now was anything like love. 

“If you're not willing to share your gift--”

“Stop! It is not a gift! It's not life, it's not death. It's the In-Between, not day or night, but shadow--”

“If you're not willing,” he repeated, “I'll accept my death, but I'll do it my way. I'll just shoot up a few bags and leave this world before the cancer takes me out of it. But if you are... if you are, I'll belong to you. You won't have to be alone anymore.”

Luca stepped close to me. He winced, then smiled and raised the hand holding the Coke can. He'd pressed his thumb into the opening, along the sharp aluminum, and had cut it. He put the can on the windowsill, ran his bleeding thumb over my bottom lip and slid it into my mouth. It was like a power-surge, every dead nerve in my body suddenly humming like a live wire. I wanted Luca—his blood, his flesh, his soul. 

He must have sensed it. He held my face between his hands. “Are you willing? Do you want me? Will you save me?”

I could no longer shed tears, but it seemed my eyes were being assaulted by shards of glass. 

“Yes. Yes, I'll save you.”

He kissed me on the mouth. It was wonderful. If I live a full millennium, I'll never forget it. Luca tipped his head back in a gesture of total surrender, gave me access to his throat. He closed his eyes, shuddered as my tongue traced the path of his jugular. I found his wrists and held them, danced him a hundred eighty degrees to put his back against the wall, and I took him. 

###

On the lower west side of the city, where there were once docks and warehouses—I worked here when I was still mortal and young—there is a bar now called The Borderland, although it’s had several names throughout its history. It is a members-only bar, no guests allowed. I received my membership over a century ago. None of us frequent the place, but all of us come in at one time or another.

I sit a stool apart from Axel, who is much older than me. I am drinking harvested blood spiked with alcohol from a glass, and I recall the first time I sat on this stool and ordered the same, how amusing I found it. Now I find it sad—a pathetic charade of what we had in life, when we were living, loving, marrying, fucking, procreating, and dying. A pitiful sham.

Axel is Old World. He's lived on every continent, speaks more languages than God. He picked up smoking unfiltered Camel cigarettes a hundred years ago, and still smokes them. 

“One of them got to you,” he says. His accent is slightly Germanic, even after centuries. “You feel guilt now, yes?”

I don't feel like talking, so I nod.

“I know the feeling. What's easy is seeing in the dark. Moving swiftly and almost invisibly. Killing. Everything else is hard.” 

Luca knew I had to take him to the brink of death, then return his blood by feeding it back to him. That’s what he wanted. 

I sank my teeth into his neck, never intending to do what he wanted. I knew I couldn't keep him with me in his human form, knew I hadn't the willpower for such a thing. But it wasn't for lack of self-restraint that I continued to drink until his heart ceased to beat, all the while screaming inwardly at myself, Monster! Murderer! 

I could have kept Luca with me, but it would not have been the Luca I loved. And I loved him far too much to let him live on as I do.

THE END