Lewis Aleman - The Anti-Vampire

Just as fast, he spins back to me.

“I love you, Ruby.”

The words are even more beautiful being said a second time—feels like they’ve grown even stronger.

“Where were those words a little while ago?”

“Left it unfinished on purpose—knew I couldn’t die without having said those words to you. And no way on earth I’d let anything happen to you without telling you I love you.”

Simon glances over his shoulder. Roderick still lies face down in front of the fireplace and stirs on the floor but isn’t up yet—Sideburns coughs and rocks but is still on the ground, Katrianna fights Carvelli near the windows—didn’t even see Carvelli get up. They move so fast.

I say, “I’m hard of hearing, and we still could die tonight—say it again.”

“Ruby, I love you.”

He leans in to kiss me again, but Sideburns struggles to get up—barely getting himself on his knees, and Roderick rolls to his side in front of the fireplace.

Simon grabs Sideburns by his shirt and lifts him off the ground.

Sideburns’s punches smack Simon with no force—no effect—no strength left. His head spins in circles, eyes half shut.

Simon says, “Last chance—get out of here now, young one, or you’re never going to leave this room again.”

He nods his head.

With that, Simon spins around and tosses him toward the bookcase—Sideburns staggers right through the opening, not looking back.

Katrianna kicks Carvelli between his legs—he drops to his knees—she kicks his forehead—his whole body topples to the wooden floor.

Looking up at her from the planks as he strains to push himself up and back onto his knees, Carvelli says, “Was a shame we had to kill all of your cats.”

Katrianna’s chin drops to her chest. Eyes close tightly shut.

Shoving his knees off the ground and into a wobbly standing position, Carvelli says, “Awful shame we had to kill all of them tonight. Would’ve loved to have gone back again and again, having a little fun catching those filthy, furry things and listening to them shriek.”

Katrianna is a blur speeding toward him—diving at him—soaring through the air—arms outstretched, hands tearing into his stomach, sending the both of them crashing out the window and out of sight. They hit the balcony with a deep thud, followed by a thundering crash. The last bit of the balcony must’ve collapsed, sending them both diving into the flames.

Pulling my attention away from the window, I see Roderick, standing now, quickly taking an iron poker from the fireplace into his hand.

Sirens scream in the distance, getting louder and louder.

Staring Roderick down and taking a slow step toward him, Simon says, “Come on, Roderick—it’s over. Sirens are blaring—heading here now. Enough blood’s been spilled today—give all of this up—you’re beaten.”

Waving the tip of the iron poker in the air at Simon’s head, Roderick says, “It’s not over.”

“What’re you going to do with that except waste your time and irritate me?”

“Oh…it’s not for you,” he says smoothly, looking toward me with a gleam in his eyes.

Keeping the poker pointed at Simon, he takes a step closer to me.

“Roderick, I’ll kill you! I swear I’ll kill you if you touch her—slowly.”

“Just hold it right there, hero boy. Don’t take another step.”

Simon holds his hands open and beside his shoulders, “Alright, you don’t move either then.”

Roderick lets his fangs scrape his own bottom lip, “For the moment, maybe. For the moment…look at you, Simon—so terrified I’m going to take away the thing you love most. So ironic, it’s the same exact look Eleni had in her eyes half a century ago, soaked in gasoline, right before I dropped the match that lit the fire that burned her alive.”

Simon’s chest spasms—rough exhale, and his words come in spurts between pained, choppy breaths, “You lie—I saw them—got there just as it was finished—saw them all leaving—there was a crowd—they thought she was one of us—a vampire—someone saw me leap up to her window late at night—thought she must be one too. You’re a liar—I saw them—know every one of their faces—every last one of their terrible faces.”

On the floor just past Simon—several feet behind his back, Desirée’s eyelids flip open—revealing hideous blue.

Roderick says, “Indeed they were there, dear boy. Tied her up—brought the gasoline—brought the matches—not one of them with the guts to light it. I was all too glad to spark their murderous plans into action—to give them the strength to bring their anger to life.”

Desirée charges at Simon’s back—her teeth and nails are furious triangles bent on tearing into him.

Roderick turns toward me—in a flash he has the iron poker cocked back like a spear over his head—ready to be thrust through the air and into me—all the way through me—aimed at my chest—pointed and threatening.

Desirée’s arm swings at the back of Simon’s head. Simon spins toward her, catching her arm at the wrist, grabbing under her elbow with his other hand.

Roderick’s arm starts to come down toward me.

Simon arches his back and pulls Desirée’s arm over his head and shoulders—tossing her into the air.

Roderick’s arm comes down—hand opens—iron spear flies out.

Throw my hands up in front of my chest.

Desirée’s body smacks my hands to the side as she smashes into the wall—the iron poker dives into her chest, and she falls to the floor.

Simon’s on me—hands at my arms, frantically looking me up and down, “Are you alright—did it dig into you?”

“I’m fine—I’m fine.”

Ambrosia shrieks.

Roderick’s kneeling before her—his hands stretched over her lower stomach.

Simon traverses the room in a burst, crossing his forearms in an X-shape in front of his head—one set of sharp fingernails aimed far to the left, the other to the right. He flings his arms—uncrossing them in an instant—slicing clean through the back of Roderick’s neck.

A thud hits the floor.

Roderick’s headless body drops to the hardwood.

Simon throws his arm around Ambrosia’s shoulders and leads her toward me. I move to meet them.

Sirens blast louder outside the window.

“We better move—now,” Simon says.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say.

Ambrosia nods her head, patting her stomach, looking shocked that she’s unharmed and whole.

Simon grabs my hand and leads the way through the hole in the bookshelf.

A clang echoes through the room—iron poker lies on the floor, followed by the sound of feet scampering. A blur rushes out the window.

Roderick’s body remains on the floor, but his head is gone—along with Desirée. Into the night and fire.

Ambrosia’s hand lands flat on my back—trembling, and it stays there as we exit the room and run quickly through the hallway.

Going down the stairwell behind Simon is a much different experience—looks so different watching the surroundings appear over his broad shoulders with each step he takes ahead of me—like being flown out of a cave in hell on the broad wings of an eagle.

Getting close to the bottom now—on the last set of stairs. Orange and red burst through the giant hole in the door—blowing the few remnants of the door wide open and shattering the glass completely out of the windows beside it.

The flames reach into the house like fiery vines—the old, dry wood readily feeding its ravenous tongues. They flicker and reach their way onto the staircase, covering the last few steps at the bottom.

Simon stops and says, “We’re going over the rail.”

He grabs me behind my knees and at my back—lifting me into his arms.