Charlaine Harris - Many Bloody Returns

“I would never betray you,” I said. “You’ve already helped me. Did you encourage Rosette to kill Jack? For my sake?”

“I wish I could take credit,” Michael said. “But Jack was her idea. Still, I’m glad it helped you.”

Then he kissed my hand. “You have much to think about,” he said. “I hope you make the right decision.”

I left him feeling oddly lighthearted for a woman whose only choice was death: my real death, the living death of middle age, or the death-in-life of a vampire.

I slept well that night, or what was left of it. Then, at five-thirty, I was awakened by Eric slamming doors and opening drawers. He had four white shirts in plastic bags. I’d picked up those shirts for him from the best laundry in Lauderdale, prepared precisely the way he liked: hangers, no starch.

I sat up groggily in bed. “From now on,” I said, “have your slut pick up your laundry. That’s the last errand I’m running for you.”

“Don’t you dare call Dawn that,” Eric said.

“Dawn! What kind of name is that? Has it dawned on you how trite you are?” My bitterness burst like a lanced boil, and I was screaming like a fishwife. My husband yelled right back.

Our argument was interrupted by a pounding on our front door. Marvin, our condo security guard, was standing on the doorstep. He looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But there have been complaints about the noise.”

We both apologized to the guard. Now my humiliation was complete. Eric walked out a few minutes later, clutching his fresh shirts by the hangers. “You’ll hear from my lawyer,” he said.

That was it. That was how he ended our quarter-century marriage, the day before my birthday.

He’d forgotten that, of course. He couldn’t even say, “I’m sorry, I’ve found someone else.” Eric wasn’t sorry, was he? But he would be.

I watched the sun rise on the last morning of my life. The new morning turned the air a pearlescent pink, and a shimmering fog drifted across the water. White birds skimmed along the Intracoastal.

I will never see this beauty again, I thought. But I didn’t have time to wallow in regret. I had things to do. I stopped at a diner for a last, lavish breakfast. The young, busty waitress was too busy flirting with a table full of businessmen to pay any attention to me. I could hear the cook ringing the bell in the kitchen. When the waitress finally brought my breakfast, the eggs had congealed to rubber and the home fries were coated with grease.

“This food is cold,” I said to the waitress.

“Huh?” she said, as if she’d just noticed me for the first time. Once again, I was the incredible, invisible middle-aged woman.

“I’ll get the cook to warm it up,” she said.

“Never mind,” I said. “I’m not hungry after all.”

I threw some money on the table and left. I’d lost my taste for food.

At ten o’clock, I was weeping in my lawyer’s office. The tears came easily, and they weren’t entirely false. Only the accusations were made up.

“Please help me,” I sobbed. “My husband is divorcing me. He has a new girlfriend and he hates me. They’re fighting about how soon they can get married. I’m in the way. I’m afraid Eric will harm me.”

“Harm you how?” the lawyer said.

She would look perfect on the witness stand during Eric’s murder trial, I thought. She was serious enough for the women to believe her, but sexy enough to get the men’s attention. There was something about her tailored black suit, tightly pulled-back hair, and horn-rimmed glasses that made men wonder what she’d look like without them.

“K-kill me,” I said. “Eric doesn’t let anyone stand in his way.”

“Have there been any threats?” the lawyer said.

“Nothing in front of witnesses,” I said. “But we had a terrible fight this morning, and he said he’d kill me if I didn’t give him a divorce and…I’m so embarrassed. Condo security had to knock on our door.”

“That’s good,” the lawyer said. “I mean, it’s not good, but it will help.”

She made plans to get a restraining order and told me to change the locks. Of course, I would tragically disappear before I could carry out her instructions.

It was after noon when I left the lawyer’s office, my least favorite time of day in Florida. The parking lot was baking in the harsh sun. It showed all the cracks in the buildings and the sidewalks—and in my lips and skin. I won’t miss this, I thought. Not one bit.

I wanted to treat myself to a special dress for this evening, my coming out. I strolled along Las Olas Boulevard, where all the smart shops were. The windows glowed with dresses in dramatic black and fabulous colors.

Black, I thought. Black was the right choice when you’re going to the dark side.

I entered a cool shop. A young saleswoman, who looked like a thinner version of Dawn, was talking to another clerk. They didn’t look up when I came in. They didn’t notice me.

“Excuse me,” I said. “May I have some help?”

The two young women smirked and rolled their eyes, and I understood why Marissa had killed her salesclerk. If I had more time in Lauderdale, I’d come back for this one.

But I didn’t. I bought the first dress I tried on. It didn’t fit quite right. I could see my drooping back in the mirror, the little rolls of fat at my waist. But they would be gone soon. In my new life, this dress would be spectacular.

As I left, I knew I’d made the right decision. Not about the dress. About my life. I would be invisible, but it would be my choice.

I would be powerful.

I would be beautiful forever.

I would get the blood back. It would flow again. It would flow into me, and I would feel the ecstasy. I would not be young, but I didn’t want to be young. The young were vulnerable, trusting, hurting. I never wanted to feel that way again.

I sat in my condo and thought about the rest of the night and the beginning of my new life.

When the sky began to bleed red, I walked once more through my condo, saying good-bye to all my things. It would be easy to give them up. I sat on the balcony until the sun set and the sky turned dark velvet. Then I dressed for my final night.

At midnight, I met Michael down by the docks. He was frighteningly beautiful.

“Have you made your choice?” he said.

“I choose you,” I said.

He kissed me. “I’m so glad,” he whispered. “Everyone is waiting for you. Who will be your first kill?”

“Dawn, Eric’s office manager. The police will find her bloodless body outside his clinic.”

“What about your husband?”

“I’ll let him live. It will be fun to see how he explains his drained and dead girlfriend and his missing wife. I’ll be gone, but I won’t take anything with me—no money from our bank account, no stocks, not even my jewelry. I’ll follow the trial on the Internet from the south of France.”

Michael smiled. “I’m sure we’ll all be entertained by the drama,” he said. “Happy birthday, Katherine.”

Toni L. P. Kelner is the author of the Laura Fleming Southern mystery series and the forthcoming Where Are They Now? series about a freelance entertainment writer who specializes in articles about the formerly famous. She has won the Agatha Award for best short story and the Romantic Times Career Achievement Award, and has been nominated for the Anthony, the Macavity and the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice awards. She lives in Massachusetts with her husband, fellow author Stephen P. Kelner Jr., and two daughters. Though she’s a longtime fan of vampire fiction, this is her first vampire story.

They stared at the tombstone. Or rather, Mark stared. Stella glared.