T W E L V E
The sun set early, chased out of the sky by a sullen October twilight. Didn't make any difference I was still cocooned inside my sleeping bag in the back of Mallock's van. I could feel it. Had been waiting for it. Sometimes days are just too long. I zippered open and sat up. Stretched. Saw Doctor Mallock standing in front of the van door first thing. A bike buzzed by kicking up a spray of dirt and dry grass. He reached up, smoothed the thin spot on the back of his head and shifted position, uncomfortable. Uneasy. I made a noise so he could hear me and stretched again. "Hi," Mallock said. "You're finally awake. Must have been beat. I thought you were going to sleep all night, too." "I never sleep through the night." "Don't know how you could sleep through this." Mallock shouted the last of his words as another rider accelerated past him. "You remind me of my brother, Phil. He could sleep like the dead, too." "Oh, yeah?" "And always covered up with the sheets and pillows. Even in summer, no matter how hot it got." "Sounds like you were friends." "As much as brothers can be. He's probably got his own family now. I haven't seen him in a long time." "It's hard to keep in touch when you're on the road," I said offering an easy out. Mallock nodded, starting to accept it. Then said, "No, it's more than that. You know, when I was in Nam, I couldn't wait to get home and then, when I got back, I couldn't wait to get away." "Why?" A bunch of explanations hung in the air in front of his face. Ultimately, Mallock just shrugged and grinned at me. "I guess it's like they say, partner. You can't go home again," he said. "One of my brothers went to Vietnam." That was me talking. Surprise, surprise. "Yeah?" "Roberto ... we called him Bert. He used to write to me and send things when he was stationed overseas. He was great. But he went to Vietnam and he didn't come back." "M.I.A?" "That's what they said." "Don't you believe them?" "What I believe is, he was supposed to come back. He was supposed to come home. And he didn't." I was surprised at how angry I felt. At how angry I sounded. Mallock was quiet for a moment, as quiet as he could be with all that din going on around us. "It was crazy times back then," the doctor said at last. "There was a lot going on. Everybody had an opinion. They all thought they knew what happened over there but nobody knew. Nobody except those who were there. I didn't know your brother but, I think, if he was like most people I did know, he would've gone back home. Even if it turned out he couldn't have stayed, he would have tried to get home if he could." "You really think so?" "Yeah." I looked down and discovered I was twisting the edge of the sleeping bag around in my fists so I stopped doing that. Reached for my pack and started grubbing around for a clean shirt. "I'm sorry about your brother," Mallock said. "There's nothing to be sorry about." I wanted this conversation to be over. "Stuff like that happens all the time. You get used to it. It's no big deal." We both knew how true that was. I guessed Mallock had invoked that particular chant himself in the wee, black hours of the a.m, in the bright glare of mid-afternoon. Bert was a big deal. He would always be a big deal. And whatever did or didn't happen in Sayner with Phil would always be big with Rick Mallock, too. "So what's going on out there?" I asked. "Sounds like a riot." "Party-time," Mallock said, flat. "Dodger's decided we all need a rest day after last night. Got to hand it to him. He's not much on mechanics, brains or guts but he's got an instinct for knowing what people want." I tugged on my boots and walked to the door. Looked around. It wasn't hard to pick up on Mallock's drift. You could lay good money that, so far, no one but Mallock had stopped to question how much of yesterday's accident was the result of bad luck and how much from fatigue and improperly checked equipment — and tried to do something about it. Checking around outside, it was obvious no one was in the mood for questions. If the previous night had been a time of dismal contemplation, now it was time for cathartic celebration. A makeshift race course had been cleared around the camp, expanding erratically throughout the day as the hours and booze passed. Well, that kind of reaction was natural. Only thing was, all those unasked and unanswered questions were creating a very crappy undercurrent. You didn't have to be Fae to taste the blood in the air — the aggression, the fear, the rage. There was that thick, wet-heat feel hovering around that comes just before a major storm is about to break. Only thing was, the sky was clear. There wasn't a cloud in sight so what I was picking up was mostly psychic shit. Literally. A couple of yards down the track, some guy took a spectacular fall. End over end, him and his bike. Everybody screamed/cheered. I glanced up at the doctor but he just shrugged. We watched the guy pick himself up, dust off, remount and roar off. And the tribe went nuts. "Been like this all day long," Mallock said. "They've been taking falls like that and just getting back up." Falls that would have kept a sober man — or an older man — down permanently. That's what Mallock was thinking. The stone he'd been worrying at with his boot broke free. It skipped over the dirt and disappeared into the grass. Mallock straightened up and folded his arms over his chest. "So, how you feeling, Rick?" I asked. "Oh, I slept like a rock myself last night," he said. "I was surprised. I thought I'd wake up with a colossal hangover but no — nothing. Must've been your music that did the trick. It was pretty damn excellent." "Thanks." "So how do your folks feel about you out on the road doing the rock 'n roll thing? They must be proud of you." "I don't have any family. No one." "What happened?" "Dead. All except my sister and she doesn't give a damn where I am or what I do." I said that matter-of-fact. Meant it like that, too. I'd had to stop thinking about Maria and all that long ago. It just made me crazy and it was nothing to her. Mallock took in a deep breath and let it out. "Did I ever tell you about this special gift I have? The way I bring out the best in people? Put them at ease? Make 'em feel right at home, genuinely comfortable?" "You're on a roll, Mallock." "Ain't it the truth. You must think I'm one morbid son of a bitch." "That thought did cross my mind once or twice." "I was just trying to change the subject." "I know. It's okay." And grinned before I could stop myself. Mallock didn't even break stride. "That's a hell of an overbite, kid. Didn't your folks ever take you to a dentist? Wait — stop! No more family talk, okay? No more questions." "Okay," I said, wondering if I should laugh or leave or what. Laughed with him instead and the conversation trailed into comfortable silence. The dark was foggy with exhaust fumes and dust but wood smoke from the camp spiced the autumn frost and smelled good. I peered up at the sky. There was going to be a new moon. After a while Mallock says, "You want to go into town and pick up something to eat?" That hit so close to what I'd been considering, I almost fell out of the van. Mallock shrugged again. "There's not a lot going on around here that isn't going to crash and burn before too much longer," the doctor said. "Town might be more fun. Especially if you're thinking of eating tonight. You know — breakfast, dinner — that kind of thing?" I was still staring at him like he was talking in a foreign language or something and trying to come up with some kind of straight answer when I felt/saw her. Snakelady, staring at me, from across the circle. The heat hit me in the solar plexus like it usually does and spread wildfire fast. I was squatting down in the doorway with my arms crossed over my legs and suddenly I caught the sex and blood scent dried on my skin, trapped under my fingernails, from the night before. Every nerve in my body blazed into life, little organic electrodes sparking for connection. I know the prickle-tease sensation cats get when their fur lifts because the fine hair on the back on my neck was doing a dance of its own and racing down my spine. Somewhere amidst all that chemistry, I understood Mallock was watching me. Then watching Snakelady watching me watching her back and I didn't care. I couldn't care. There's a lot you will read and hear about fatal Fae attractions in legends, songs, books, poems and so forth. But what mortals don't know much about is how Fae can be attracted right back, especially Blood Fae. And it's got nothing to do with "feeding" anymore than living and breathing, sleeping, dreaming and waking has anything to do with McDonald's or Pizza Hut. That kind of intense attraction/reaction is rare, however, and all I can do is thank whatever Powers That Be that it is because it's so bizarre. Uncontrollable. Any good that comes out of it is usually wasted because almost always somebody ends up dead or destroyed. Usually the human because Fae are, well... Fae. I know what I'm talking about. I've danced to both sides of that platter. "Looks like you two made it up pretty fast," Mallock said after-who-could-tell-how-long. His voice crashed the spell weaving between me and Snake and I looked at him, sharp. Would have said something sharp, too, but one of the bikers chose that moment to all but slide into us. The rider stopped and steadied his machine at the last possible moment. He grinned at us, white teeth gleaming against an unshaven, dirt-streaked face. He shouted something like an apology but the words were lost in the engine's scream as he peeled off again. Sweating, Mallock watched him drive away. I gawked, too, but eventually got it under control — all of it — and made a little jump to the ground. "Catch you later," I murmured at the doctor and walked off, circling the outside of the track heading towards Snakelady. Behind me, Mallock took a fresh cigar out of his shirt pocket, snapped the lid on its silver cylinder and fished for a match. Both of us were hoping the same thing — that things would settle down soon. It was too crazy. The last thing we needed was another stupid accident. Snake started into the woods as soon as she spotted me coming towards her. That hit me as smart. There was no way we could really talk, or anything else, in all the racket and it was just as well no one connected the two of us together any more than necessary. I let her trail ahead of me, then moved up beside her once we were under cover of the trees. Closing in on that small distance, right away I could feel things had changed again and I wondered what was up. Snake was eager to fill me in because almost immediately, she ground to a dead stop and turned on me. "Let's talk," she snapped. So I said, "All right." "Last night. What was that all about?" "What do you think it was all about?" "I know what I think. I want to know what you know." "Most of them don't." This was getting stickier by the second. In the background the races at the camp were a dull roar that seemed to come from everywhere. Snake tried to keep her expression impassive, fighting the pull between us. It hurt to see that but, in a way, I could understand why she did. Wished I didn't. "I want to know about you," she said. "You were in my head. You knew things about me no one could know." "I am what you most want me to be." "Bianco, my grandmother was the neighborhood witch-woman, the spirit-lady. She carried all that garbage with her from Japan. The ancestor worship, the bone washing, the visions. Don't start this mystic bullshit with me. It won't work." "So what do you want me to tell you, sweetheart? Don't tell me you can't fit all the right cubes in all the right squares? You must've picked up something from the old woman." "What I learned from old Thunder-clap you don't want to know. Just between you and me, I never believed in all that kami-shit." "Right. But you wanted to." She could have hit me then. Didn't. "So," I said. "What do you think now?" "I think you're the whitest gaijin I've ever seen and the best fuck I've ever had. Maybe." "Ayame...." "Don't call me that! I didn't say you could call me that. How come you picked me last night? Why me?" "I didn't call you — not you particularly," I stammered. "I just called. Anybody could have answered." "What about Alice? Why didn't you call her?" "Alice doesn't need me now." That was the right and the wrong thing to tell her. Snake looked like she was going to self-combust and take me with her. "Are you saying I do? I need you?" she blazed. "No. I'm not saying that." "That's good because I don't. I don't need anyone. I take care of myself!" "Good for you. So do I." "Yeah," Snake snarled, "like you took care of Alice. You're the one who changed her, aren't you?" "Yes." "You took over. Just like that!" Her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, worse than yelling. "Why? Did she get in your way? I've been watching her since yesterday. She's like a different person, not scared and drifting any more but.... Is that going to last or is it going to go away and leave her worse than before? Is that really Alice? How much 'Alice' is left in her now and how much is what you made her?" "I don't know the answers you want. I wasn't trying to hurt her. I don't want to hurt anybody. All I can tell you is Alice is Alice." "Why should I believe you?" "You believed me last night." "The hell with last night — all of it!" She shouted then. "You tear me apart. How do I know if what I'm feeling is really mine or what you want me to feel? How much of me do you control?" "I don't control you." "But you could if you wanted to. Right?" She hurt me. She really pissed me off. But she was right. I didn't answer her. Tried to think, looked around for the right words like they might be buried in the leaves under my feet but there weren't many answers there. Nothing I could find to reassure with her anyway. She waited for me to say something, do something but the quiet just soured between us. After a short infinity, Snake asked, "What are you going to do?" "What do you mean?" "I know about you now," she says, cold. "What are you going to do?" I could feel my own eyes turning to ice. "Nothing," I said. "You do what you want. Go if you want." I made my voice like ice, too. I wanted to freeze her with it. She took off instead, making hot tracks back to camp. When she felt me glaring icicles at her back, she walked faster. Alone, I had to wonder — What The Hell Was Wrong With Me? First Mallock, now Ayame. No — Snake. She didn't want me to use her real name. It wasn't like I was a novice or anything. Wasn't like I hadn't been trained, cautioned never to volunteer information about myself, especially traceable information. Yet, there it was. I'd blabbed to Mallock. Let it all hang out with Snake. The last thing I'd ever expected was to find her answering my call. Surprise and relief had turned into delight and more in the hours we'd had before dawn. Just a little time but we'd shared.... We'd shared nothing. "What are you going to do?" I stared at the trail she'd taken back to camp, twisted around a heart of pain and anger. Humiliation, too. What did she expect me to do? Byron, any of the others would have... but how could she think I would.... ... kill her. I pushed my hair back from my forehead, caught a trace of what was still there and shivered with a combination of grief and need. A wayward ribbon of eternity unraveled before me. I could imagine what my life would be like isolated from those of the Blood, rejected by mortals, feeding on whoever I could trick with unnatural guile and charm, a promise of temporary pleasure in payment for food and shelter. Just like before. Affection and companionship had never entered into those old bargains. It wasn't going to be a part of my life now. I was just standing there, seeing the future so clearly and I know my mouth was kind of hanging open because I remember how dry and empty my throat felt. Like after someone hits you hard and you can't get any air in but you keep sucking away regardless. That's when I heard a noise of laughter, an intimate undulation that sliced right through the roar of the not-too distant engines and shrilling voices. There was something else in the woods. The same something I'd felt the night before. Its laughter swallowed off to nothing, choked to hushed amusement but not before I felt a damp breath brush against my cheek. It watched me. It waited. <Who are you?> I sent the call, demanding. Fuck protocol. <What do you want?> Silence throbbed around me. I opened up and stretched out, my shadow-self following a shadow-tease, searching. Someone was playing a game, someone I didn't know, but one of the Blood, that much was sure. I scanned the dark like a fury. Finally homed in on a Presence and battered at it, trying to pinpoint substance from the screens it had erected around Itself. Prepared to show It how I felt about games and lies and — There! I could taste-smell-feel an odor. Yes. Something sweet, something strong and heavy ... sick ... decayed. Dead. It was dead. Repulsed, I pulled back into myself. Ran away. It followed, laughing again, a giggling core of lunacy. It tracked my panic bringing It's stench with It, raced ahead. Found It waiting for me when I got back. Felt It swallow me whole. Heard my voice muffled around my head like I was screaming under water. And then It went inside. It was in me, pulsing under my skin like pus in a poisoned wound except freezing where there should have been fever. It oozed and slithered through my soul with liquid malignancy, shredding and probing and beating. I squeezed my eyes shut, covered my ears in a useless effort to shield, to block It out. Force It away. Finally, It rushed out of me with the same ripping pull a jag-edge blade makes leaving flesh. I hurt so bad, I couldn't even moan, just dropped to my knees. Thought hard about diving right down through the hard-packed earth crust, anything to get away. An invisible mouth pressed mine, left me feeling covered with slime. That voice burbled in my ear again, a maniac's rancid giggle braying, <Gotcha!> I wrenched out of It's grasp one more time. Stood up. The effort was nauseating and left me shaking so hard, I could barely stand. The other's power shimmy-danced around me creating a parade of iridescent color that exploded against my eyes like piercing darts of flame. It giggled again — behind me. Grew solid — at last! I whirled about, crouched to attack — And was blinded by yellow, strobing light. A mechanical snarl charged the night and for one, long, incredulous moment I stared into a terrified human face hurtling straight at me. It caught me again and my senses were torn from me, forced open so I could feel all the driver's panic, fear and shock just before the bike hit me head on.
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