Ellen Datlow - Teeth - Vampire Tales

Sfortunado paused after calling her name five times, and then he made what sounded like bird calls — whistling, gibbering, cawing, singing in a higher tone than before. Even though the threat of Gracie lunging out of the dark had him sweating, Luke couldn’t keep a straight face. His nervous laughter lasted only a second before he saw a white form slowly passing into the grainy light halfway up the center aisle. The pale blob wavered with the candle flame and then became clearer — Gracie on all fours, crawling obediently toward the altar.

Spit was flying from Sfortunado’s lips as he trilled and whooped. He swung his arms for more power and lifted up on his toes. His head darted back and forth, like a bird’s. Luke thought the old man was going to keel over from his efforts. Gracie inched ever closer, purring in a way that made the sound echo everywhere.

When she reached the foot of the altar, she grunted and slowly rose to her feet. Her wig had come off; she was completely bald. Her white tongue lolled down over her chin and her eyes were closed. She began snoring. Sfortunado quit his bird impersonations, stumbled backward, and fell onto the altar.

“Now,” said Darene, and stepped forward with her gun out. Luke froze for a heartbeat, and in that brief space, the lights of the church went on. He blinked and brought his free hand up to block out the sudden glare. From between his fingers, he saw Gracie’s eyelids slide open. Then he saw the fangs. She pounced like a flying leopard, arcing upward through the air. A shot rang out and then another, and the next thing Luke knew, Gracie had landed at Sfortunado’s feet and sunk her fangs into his left calf muscle. Blood sprayed over the altar, and the old man screamed in agony.

Sfortunado’s cry brought Luke to his senses. He aimed at Gracie’s back and pulled the trigger. The pistol kicked in his hand and the slug went wide and dug into the altar floor. Darene took aim, fired, and hit Gracie in the side, tumbling her off Sfortunado and right at Luke’s feet. He jumped back a step and the gun went off, splintering the boards. At the sound of the shot, Gracie sprang up and away from him. She bounded once, and in an instant had her hands wrapped around Darene’s throat. Darene’s arms were between Gracie’s, and she struggled to hold back that pale, gaping mouth.

Luke sprang into action but thought, What am I doing? as he managed to sling an arm, hand holding the stock of the pistol, around Gracie’s neck. With his free hand, he grabbed the end of the barrel of the gun and pulled back, forcing it against her windpipe. Rearing away from Darene, Gracie tried to break his grip with her hands. She bucked and whipped from side to side, turned in circles. He barely held on. Her flesh was the consistency of wet clay, and she stank like rotting meat. She dug her nails into his forearms, and he head butted her as hard as he could at the base of her skull. She growled and tipped backward, losing her balance at the edge of the altar.

Luke caught a glimpse of Darene, aiming her gun at them as they fell. He didn’t know whether to let go or hold on tighter. He was sure he’d lose her if she landed on him, but though he cringed in anticipation, he never slammed against the church floor. Instead, he opened his eyes as Gracie lifted off the edge of the altar and ascended. Luke looked down and screamed.

“Let go,” Darene yelled.

He held tighter as they circled upward. In seconds, they’d reached the height of the dome, and Gracie leveled out, now placidly flying, like Superman, with her arms out in front of her. They orbited the inside of the dome, and amid his panic, Luke noticed the images painted on the curved ceiling — scenes of people with bird heads feasting on platters of insects, a haloed grasshopper on a throne, trees and mountains, all against a sky blue background with white clouds.

Gracie was babbling in the language of the bald dead, and Luke eased up on his grip, resting upon her back. She swept so smoothly through the air, it felt like a dream.

“Luke” came a voice from below. He roused and looked down over his shoulder from the dizzying height. Appearing like the size of grasshoppers themselves, Mr. Cabadula was standing next to Darene on the altar. Behind them, Sfortunado was writhing in pain on the floor.

“Choke her down,” called Darene’s father. He lifted his gun, holding it in two hands as Luke was, and pulled it in tightly toward his throat.

“Choke her down,” whispered Luke. He gathered his strength and pulled back hard on the gun barrel. Gracie wheezed with the pressure and bucked her hips, trying to shake him off her back. They descended in a slow spiral.

“Keep the pressure on, no matter what,” said Mr. Cabadula. Luke peered over Gracie’s shoulder and saw Darene’s father handing her a mallet and a long brass nail. She then turned and walked to the edge of the altar. Mr. Cabadula walked to the opposite edge and crouched down.

Gracie reached a certain altitude, and no matter how much Luke put into choking her, she’d not go an inch lower. They went into a wide orbit fifteen feet above the altar, moving in an arc out over the pews and back.

“I gotta let go,” Luke yelled.

“One more minute,” said Darene.

He looked down to find her on the altar as they circled toward it. He heard her father say, “Now, Darene.” At this, she took off, sprinting toward him, her arms pumping, her hair flying. Luke watched her dash across the altar to her father, who had his hands cupped, fingers laced, in front of him. She placed her left foot in his hands, and at that instant, he pushed upward with his legs, lifting Darene, pitching her high into the air.

Luke saw everything, but it seemed at a distance. Once Darene was in flight, though, he noticed how closely they’d circled in toward her. He pulled back hard on Gracie, afraid that Darene would collide with them. She rose in an arc, flipping in midair so that as she passed just in front of them, she was completely upside down, her face toward them. At the perfect moment, she reached out, set the nail to Gracie’s forehead, and, with one deft blow, slammed it through her skull. Luke heard the sickening crunch of bone, felt Gracie go slack, and then realized that Darene was next to him. She shoved him hard. He lost his grip and fell, screaming, into the arms of Mr. Cabadula, who set him carefully on the altar. They both immediately looked up. Darene had removed her belt and had it around Gracie’s throat. She’d turned the belt tight like a tourniquet and had the ends wrapped around her wrist. She sat straight up on the back of the vanquished gritchino , her legs hanging down, and seemed able to direct the course of their slow descent by tugging in one direction or another.

Darene steered the remains of Gracie in a slow, meandering descent that ended in the open coffin. Luke shivered at the fantastic precision of Darene’s delivery. She hopped off the gritchino as it fell, like an avalanche, into the box. The lid eased down of its own accord and latched with a distinct click. Then the whole casket turned to steam and evaporated.

“Forget it,” said Luke, and covered his face with his left hand.

Darene and her father were on either side of Sfortunado, who was whimpering. Luke inched closer but really didn’t want to see either the old man’s chewed-up leg or, worse, his face. Mr. Cabadula took Darene by the arm and led her away from Sfortunado to where Luke was standing.

“Here’s my keys,” he said, putting the ring of them in her hand. “You go on ahead. I’ll clean this up.”

There were tears in Darene’s eyes when she nodded.

“What’s gonna happen with Sfortunado?” asked Luke. “Is he gritchino , like vampires make other vampires?”