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Vampire Non Sequitur
by Geoff Nelder
Claire felt her eyes dropping. It could have been the heavy text on probability theory sliding down her lap, or the rhythmic swaying of the subway train. Her daily commute between north and south London allowed her to make some headway towards her insurance career qualifications.
Plunging into a tunnel raised the ambient clackety-clack and dimmed the lights. Suddenly the carriage lost its illumination accompanied by a communal groan. Not a rare event but sufficiently uncommon for Claire to have the jitters especially when her elbow was roughly nudged by someone filling the seat next to her, trapping her coat. As she pulled, the overwhelming aroma of liver and onions made her nose pinch forcing her to turn her head away. She felt a beard brush her stretched neck, so stopped pulling at her coat and pushed him away.
Flickering as if they couldn't make up their mind, the carriage lights reactivated in time for Claire to notice the black-coated tall silver-haired man leave for the next carriage. He appeared to be spitting into his handkerchief while pulling a pained expression.
***
Marinated tofu stir-fry with Arborio rice made up Claire's dinner. Although her favourite meal and cooked to succulent perfection – accompanied with a fine Spanish Rioja – her palate felt distinctly odd. While preparing coffee, Claire felt an itch on her neck and her fingers found two punctures with slightly raised edges. An avid reader and cinemagoer, she knew the symptoms. Later, her body temperature fluctuated wildly but her brain shut down giving her an easier sleep than she should have had.
In the morning, before catching her tube train, she allowed her chestnut hair to escape their usual formal style, so as to flow around her shoulders, hiding her neck.
Her tapping foot betrayed her nervousness when the tall man wearing an oversized black coat sat next to her. He opened his Daily Telegraph, as if he was to read it, while emanating hostility to nearby passengers who abruptly felt the urge to leave.
The deep voice resonated: "You are my latest recruit."
"I don't think so."
"Last night, didn't you have a sanguineous thirst?"
"I don't think I should be talking to you and I've no idea what you are talking about."
"I think you do, Claire."
"How do you know my name?"
"There are few secrets from me. Now, back to your culinary intake. Did you notice how you licked your lips more when you ate your meat last night?"
"Hardly, I'm a veggie." She looked at his face. It was white yet became paler.
"But you can't be!"
"Why not? There are millions of us, you know."
"I'm able to tell. I was able to tell. It could explain why something tasted odd yesterday..."
"So, does that mean my metabolism has rejected your disgusting germs?"
"I'm not sure. It's never happened before. I'd better go."
***
After a few days, the prevalence of the incident faded. Claire's job involved her daytime while her attempt at extra qualifications occupied her evenings. Her boyfriend, Adam, was in Cyprus on a programming contract but due to fly home for a dinner party at his parents at the end of the week. She was assured by Adam's mother it would not go like the last time.
Then, she’d said: "Hello Claire, sit here, sweetie."
She suspected they had forgotten her non-carnivorous diet when the meal arrived in tureens rather than on plates.
"I'm sorry, I have a bit of an upset tummy. Please excuse me." Bad move.
"I'm not surprised," said Adam's father. "It must be because you never eat anything that’s looked over a hedge." He’d laughed so much. Adam's mother looked pained. Claire could feel the poor woman's anguish as her memory cells clicked. At least it wouldn't happen this time.
A green salad. Not even any nuts to add protein and essential oils. Adam sat on her right preparing to wolf down steamed Italian beef-tomatoes surrounding a braised lamb's liver casserole. Claire couldn't help herself. Her fork quivered then darted out, jabbed and withdrew, loaded. Adam and his family, their own forks hovering in front of their open mouths were transfixed. Claire, her mouth dripping red, looked round at them, not in the least embarrassed.
"What? I love tomatoes."
The next day, Adam took Claire to the Speedy Gloop to stoke up on energy levels before an evening of bowling. Not a big fan of fast food, Claire made exceptions where the salad bar offered a huge array of brightly coloured fresh succulence. Her dish already pyramided and overflowing, she couldn't pull away.
"Excuse me, miss," said a red-faced woman who'd followed Claire round the salad-bar a few revolutions. "Would you mind if I went in front of you? I don't like second-hand food."
"What she on about, Adam?"
He pointed out a red pepper with two teeth marks and three deflated tomatoes before dragging her over to their table.
She prodded her food. Puncture marks? Pretending to wipe her nose with a large handkerchief, she confirmed her canine teeth seemed longer and more pointed than she remembered.
"Interesting colour combination, Claire." Adam pointed at her meal.
She followed his gaze. Tomatoes, radish, red-cabbage, rouge-capsicum, beetroot, kidney and aduki beans with pink potatoes. Strawberries and cherries made up dessert. Her tongue licked the lips of a veggie vamp.
"You think you might have an iron-deficiency?" Adam always looked for the logical solution even in plainly emotional issues.
"Could be."
***
"I need to talk to you."
"I thought you might," she said, as they swayed the tight curve out of Paddington Green. His ashen face displayed worry. Claire smiled at the carriage emptying, and then at him.
"I shouldn't have chosen you." His bass voice quivered more this time."
Guess not."
"Has it affected you?"
"Not as you might expect. How about you?"
"That’s why I need this conversation. I have feelings of revulsion..."
"I thought that was what you did."
"I've lost the taste."
"That's good isn't it? At least for your victims."
"Without fresh blood I'll –"
"Change?"
"I'll d –"
"Don't say it. Anyway, I thought you were immortal."
"Only if I keep out of the daylight, avoid certain destructive elements and ingest fresh blood now and then."
"You could accept the kind of immortality the rest of us get: through our children, our art..."
"No. My time has come. It’s a phase change, a transmogrification, a– "
"You're talking gobbledygook again."
"Claire, I've fed on two since I've been poisoned by your blood. They both now abhor meat and cannot take blood."
"Excellent."
"Your facetiousness is misplaced. My powers dwindle. I am the last of my kind I know of in Britain, maybe Europe."
"You must have thousands of um – protégées."
"Few survive more than a month, fewer travelled abroad but most were weak, and died. You seem strong."
"I feel absolutely great, never better."
"As I thought. Like I said, you may represent a new branch, a blend of bloods. Not something I wanted to witness but better than extinction."
Claire chuckled, then laughed. Carriages on both sides, emptied hurriedly.
© Nelder, 2007
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Geoff Nelder has had several horror stories at Horror Masters, and Bewildering Stories, as well as SF shorts published at Jupiter, Ultraverse, & Reality Complex. He is an editor of short stories for Bewrite Books and Adventure Books of Seattle.