Blood Hall
by
Whitney Lakin
by
Whitney Lakin
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I awoke, and I was hungry. The blue numbers on the bedside clock read 4:30 am. Nobody else
should be up, and if they were, I could send them back to bed with demerits. The leftover
gumbo was mine.
I grabbed my keys from the door. The faded Billy Idol poster on the back always made me
smile. A former tenant had left the tattered relic of the eighties, and nobody had taken it down.
His Elvis sneer and single earring gave the stodgy room a more youthful, rebellious feel, and
reminded me of my own college days.
I padded down the hallway, my white satin chemise clinging to my chest. A warm, spicy draft
filled the air in front of room 213–Melissa and Sarah were smoking pot again. As long as they
shared with me from time to time, I never bothered to write them up. I remembered what it
was like to be young–it hadn’t been that long ago, really. Besides, my midnight snack called
from the fridge.
The kitchen was cold, the chill cutting through my thin nightshirt. My nipples perked up at the
frigid kiss of the open refrigerator. The smooth white glow revealed a saran-wrapped steak,
dark red blood congealing beneath the cellophane. Grimacing, I reached for the Tupperware
container of vegetarian gumbo. I snuck a few tastes of the spicy stew before sliding it in the
microwave.
As I reached for the steaming container, the sound of shattering glass filled the air. Eyes
narrowed, I stomped down the hallway and pounded on the door of room 213, but nobody
answered. Shaking the handle, I called for Melissa and Sarah.
A horror-show shriek pierced the night. I fumbled through my keyring, my hands shaking as I
slid the right key into the lock. The smell hit me the second I shoved open the door. Sweet,
musky incense and the sharp, tangy sting of copper. Melissa hung limp over the edge of her
bed, her long black curls dragging in a pool of blood. A man lay on top of her, his lips red and
dripping.
Packed with the soft trappings of female youth, the room was low on weapons. Yanking the
hot-water heater out of the socket, I smashed it into his face. Hot crimson sprayed the frilly
pink bedsheets, but the guy didn’t flinch. As I brought the cheap metal pitcher down again, he
laughed and flicked his wrist, sending the heater flying across the room. A gurgling laugh
bubbled up from his chest.
“Please.” He pronounced the word as if he’d done time at a finishing school. I balled up my
fists, my body in a perfect cardio-aerobics stance. Smiling, he reached out and brushed a gob
of blood from the sheer fabric covering my nipple. Touching it to his lips, he blew me a kiss,
then leapt through the open window. The jagged glass tore at his skin, but he kept on laughing,
his demoniac howl trailing into the night.
I ran to Melissa and placed my ear over her mouth. Nothing.
This can’t be happening, I thought as I forced breath into her lungs. Shutting my eyes, I tried
to recall my CPR training. First, locate the sternum. I ran a finger under her t-shirt, my hand
lightly brushing her uncovered pubic hair. Pressing against her chest, I coaxed a shallow grave’
s-edge breath from her crimson mouth. Convinced that she was at least alive, I reached for a
phone.
9-1-
“MISS VOLTZ!” Sarah tore out of the private bathroom. I was relieved to see my favorite
student from last semester.
“Sarah! I need you to help me, all right? Talk to Melissa–just comfort her until the ambulance
gets here, O.K?” I kept my voice as calm as possible. Giving her a job to do would benefit both
of them.
“Oh...” Clutching her flimsy robe around her, Sarah collapsed at my feet. Her head rolled to the
side, twin rivers of red spilling from her pale neck.
Behind me, Melissa moaned. I whipped around as she sat up, the diaphanous nightshirt
billowing about her slender body. Her eyes were deep red, her pupils reptilian black slits. Blood
soaked her satin shirt, staining the space between her legs a suggestive dark red. Wrapping her
arms around me, she leaned her head on my shoulder and nuzzled her mouth into my neck. Soft
laughter oozed from her lips as she pressed her teeth to my skin.
I tore myself from her, landing on Sarah’s body. Sarah moaned softly, snaking her arm around
my neck.
“Did I ever tell you that I loved your class?” Burying her face in my hair, she sealed her lips to
my neck. Her arms were strong–far too strong for a teenage girl, and her grip was like a
womb. I shoved her off. She slumped to the floor, her limbs bent at odd angles, a pretty doll
tortured by a sadistic child.
I rose and backed toward the door. The hallway was a hell of broken glass and high-pitched
screams. Girls tore by, their tattered nightshirts clinging to heaving chests. Blood-soaked
laughter filled the air.
A hand shot out from a doorway, and I jumped back. It was only Shauna. She was the kind of
student who started teachers on the road to alcoholism, but she was bite-free. Right now, I’d
take anyone’s help–even someone who spelled stupid with two o’s.
“It’s ok. It’s safe in here, for now.” Shauna’s nails cut into my wrist as she yanked me into her
room.
“Help me barricade us in.” She slammed the door behind us and grabbed the edge of her
dresser. I took the other end, perfume bottles and lipstick tubes flying off as we shoved the
dresser in place. My heart sank as I looked around. There was no phone anywhere.
“Don’t worry. We’ll be ok.” Reading my mind, she pointed to the tiny window above her bed.
Rummaging around, she added, “Well, we’ll be ok as long as the vampires can’t figure out how
to get in through there.”
“The vampires?”
“Yeah, the vampires. Now help me sharpen this.” She tossed me a broken chair leg.
A nervous laugh escaped my throat. Hoping against hope, I asked, “Maybe we’re just
overreacting. It’s probably just some, you know, some goth gang.”
“Goth gang?” It was her turn to laugh. Rolling her eyes, she flicked open a camping knife.
“Just sharpen that, ok?”
I jumped as something clawed at the wall. Grabbing the knife, I set to work with lightning
hands.
“Do it as quick as you can. Don’t be a perfectionist.” She yanked the half-whittled spike from
me. “This ain’t writing class.” Winking, she handed me another chair leg.
Who knew that straight-D Shauna was an expert vampire slayer? I thought.
“Huh?” She looked up from her carving.
“Uh, nothing.” Did I say that aloud? I had to laugh—how many times had I asked her to repeat
a sarcastic comment in class? Now the roles were completely reversed. At least one of us knew
what she was doing.
Three amputated chairs later, we had a bookbag full of spikes. Shauna poised herself at the end
of the dresser.
“Ok, you know how it goes, right? Stake ‘em through the heart. And Miss Voltz?”
“Yeah?” My hands trembled as I grabbed the other end of the dresser.
“If you have any second thoughts, just remember–those girls out there–they ain’t your students
anymore.”
I nodded as we opened the door.
The hallway was so quiet that we could hear the wind howling through the live oak. The hollow
sound reminded me of just how desolate the women’s dorm was, abandoned for holiday break
in a gentle wash of winter rain. A stake in each hand, we crept down the corridor and listened
for signs of human life.
Something howled. I spun around to see Shauna, a blur of white skin and whiter satin. I tailed
her to room 213 as she straddled Melissa, a stake aimed at her heart. Shauna looked up, her
eyes wide with terror.
“Behind you!”
Sarah leapt at me, her crimson mouth open. I panicked like a freshman who hadn’t studied for
the final.
“C’mon!” Shauna shouted. Sarah grasped for purchase, her nails tearing through my nightshirt.
Her gaping mouth edged toward my neck. I counted silently:
Five, four, three, two...her lips pressed against my flesh.
She ain’t your student anymore, I reminded myself as I aimed the stake at her heaving breast.
“One!”
In one fluid motion, Sarah fell upon the splintered point. As her heart gave out, her face relaxed.
Her eyes slipped shut and she moaned an ecstatic thank you.
“Less term papers to grade.” I shrugged, trying to make light of the situation. Nausea spilled
from my chest, bringing with it a steaming wave of half-digested gumbo. Wiping my mouth on
the pink satin bedsheet, I mumbled a sorry to nobody in particular.
“C’mon. Two down, ten spikes to go.” Shauna picked herself up from the blood-soaked sheets.
She offered me her hand and kept her voice low as we tiptoed down the hallway.
“The next room’s one of those doubles joined by a bathroom. We should each take a side.”
I nodded, my muscles sick with too much adrenaline.
“Ugh, I always hated haunted houses,” I feebly joked as we each took a door.
Shauna managed a grim smile. “On my count...one...two...three.”
I burst into the room, brandishing a stake in each hand. Aiming at the bed, I saw Jane. Cruelly
bent and broken, she lay folded between the wall and mattress. Forgetting Shauna’s warning, I
ran to her, dropping the stake. Blood soaked through my nightshirt as I knelt by her side.
Her eyes were rolled back, as if she were watching a horror movie inside her skull. I found no
pulse, but that didn’t mean anything after what I’d seen tonight. Tilting her head back, I did a
mouth sweep, this time looking for fangs instead of an obstruction.
“Don’t worry. She wouldn’t make a good vampire. I just left her at dead.” The voice sounded
like it came from every direction. Grabbing the bloody stake, I spun around. The vampire that I’
d bashed with the water heater stood before me, his face perfectly restored.
“You don’t need to do that. I’m not going to hurt you, unless you want me too.” His voice was
as calm as it was sensuous.
We stood in antagonistic silence, his steel-blue eyes boring into mine.
“Well, do you want me too?” He grinned.
I tightened my grip on the stake. “Get out of here.”
He threw back his head. His tousled hair fell away, revealing ears pierced with rows of silver.
“Love, I was here long before you. It was Billy Idol and cheap wine a go-go ‘till Dean Lemieux
kicked us out back in 82'. Roaming has lost all its fun. Squatting is a total drag. You wanna
know the worst? You’ve got no time to read your Camus when you’re picking fleas from your
mate’s hair. No, this is our home. We’re staying.” He sneered, fixing his reptilian eyes on a
faded Buffy the Vampire Slayer poster.
“You know, that’s not very politically correct. The college was so quick to hand out rights to
everyone else–gays, blacks, even women. Not vampires, though. We’re still the proverbial
boogeymen.” He turned his lips down in a pout.
Ignoring his last comment, I waved a hand over Jane’s mutilated corpse. “That’s all you want?
Then why all this? Why not just ask us to leave?”
“Because,” he turned his lips down in a pout, “then who would party with us?”
I lunged at him, the stake aimed at his heart. More graceful than the newly-made vampires, he
sidestepped my attack.
Grabbing my arm, he ran his eyes over my body. “Why don’t you join us? I’d make you head
of the dorm, forever. We could rename this place Blood Hall. Dorm B is just so boring. How
about it?”
“F--- you.” Swearing for the first time in years, I shoved him away.
He shrugged. “Lemme know if you change your mind. All it takes is one little…kiss.” In a rush
of jangling chains and well-oiled leather, he leapt out the shattered window. A book fell from his
back pocket. It was a copy of L’étranger, in the original French. I realized why they’d picked
the smart girls. They wanted equals in their hunger for both blood and literature.
I picked up the book and shivered, my skin crawling with the memory of his touch. He was
pretty good-looking, and I hadn’t had a date since...well, I didn’t care to admit it.
As I was wondering what on earth was wrong with me, Shauna tore into the room, her
nightshirt transparent with sweat. “Eight left,” She panted, her chest heaving. “Wait, did
you...?” Her eyes fell upon Jane.
I shook my head. “Already dead. Um, really dead, not...you know....”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”
I shuddered, nausea burbling its way back up my esophagus. “One of them told me, then
jumped out the window.”
She froze. “Did he touch you?”
“Well....” I grinned.
“Oh, shit. Stay right there.” She crept toward me, her eyes fixed on my neck.
“I’m ok, I swear.” I showed her the unbroken skin. “He asked me to join them.”
“And?” For the first time, she looked at me as if she really cared about me–not like I was some
annoying roadblock on her way to graduation.
“What do you think?” I rolled my eyes, not unlike a frustrated freshman. “C’mon.” I pulled her
back into the hallway. Three girls crashed into us.
“Miss Voltz, we’re the only ones left.” They clung to each other, their hard nipples poking
through blood-splattered nighties. Shauna eyed their necks, looking for telltale signs. I grabbed
her hand.
“There’s a phone in the kitchen.”
Shauna nodded, reluctantly tearing her eyes away.
“Here, everybody take one of these.” She threw each of the girls a spike. “I’ll bring up the rear.
Ms. Voltz....”
I led them down the corridor, our ears craning for the slightest sound. The kitchen was silent,
but I’d learned their kind could move without making a noise.
“Shauna, call 9-1-1. I’ll check around.”
“Uh, what should I tell them?”
“The truth. And to bring a bag of stakes.”
“Oh, god.” One of the girls grabbed my arm. Red, jelly-like clots shone in the white glow of the
refrigerator. Brownish chunks lay scattered across the linoleum.
“It’s ok–it’s just cherry pie.” I stared at the carcass of a once-perfect desert. The gumbo was
still in the microwave, kernels of white rice floating in a gelatinous brown liquid. Had it only
been minutes since I’d stood in front of that refrigerator trying to decide? It seemed like a
lifetime.
“It’s busy! 9-1-1 is f’ing busy!” Shauna slammed the phone back in the receiver.
“Keep trying. So, ah anybody hungry?” I offered a wan smile as the terrified girls slumped
against the wall.
“It’ll be ok. We’re safe here.” I sat next to them, caressing their hair, offering soothing words
that I didn’t really believe.
The Kit-Kat clock fixed its bug-eyes on us, its tail ticking out the seconds. Shauna paced the
floor, her knuckles white from gripping the stake. Someone started singing. She glared at the
girls but said nothing.
I didn’t recognize the refrain, but still I found it soothing. Curious as to who had the fragile,
ringing voice, I looked at the girls. None of their lips were moving, yet the music continued.
The singer chose a new phrase, repeating it over and over.
Oh, strolling through Blood Hall, with my little blood doll...
The girls clung tighter to me. Their tangy sweat mixed with the sweet scents of baby powder
and floral body spray. I pressed myself to them, taking in the perfume of their fear.
Closing my eyes, I saw his mouth. His decadent grin spoke of pagan sensuality, of a world I’d
never tasted...
...but could if I wanted.
Snapping my eyes open, I shook my head. One of the girls twined her fingers through my long
red hair. The singing stopped, and she began to whimper.
My muscles tensed as I thought very hard.
My decision didn’t take long. I rose, nodding at Shauna. “I’m going outside.”
She threw herself in front of the door.
“Please move aside.” I said in my most stern classroom voice. The singing started again. This
time, the voice sounded closer than before.
...strolling through Blood Hall...
“If you go out there, you’re on your own.” She gripped the lock, but I shoved her hand away.
“I’ll be fine.” I grabbed a spike and slipped through the crack in the door. The lock snapped
shut behind me.
I followed the crystalline voice down the hallway, to room 213. Curtains whipped the broken
windowpane, the wind carrying the haunting words to me. I stepped through the shattered
glass, snagging my leg on a shard. Warm blood trickled down my leg, but I didn’t care. It
would all heal soon.
Fine winter mists veiled a night that only fell in Southern woods. He stood in the clearing, the
gale lashing his long leather coat about his frame. Outlined in platinum moonlight, he tilted his
lips to the sky, mouthing the playfully seductive words. I crossed the damp grass in my bare
feet, the blood staining each emerald blade. As I drew near, he lowered his head and offered an
outstretched hand. I tightened my hand around the spike.
Then I let it fall, and wrapped my arms around his neck. Pressing my lips into skin that smelled
of death and leather, I murmured,
“I’m ready for that kiss.”
He smiled and brushed my hair back from my neck. I felt his mouth falling on my skin, the
warm sting of penetration. The stars grew brighter, tiny points of light opening like a million
tiny mouths.
Then I awoke. And I was hungry.
(3010 words)
should be up, and if they were, I could send them back to bed with demerits. The leftover
gumbo was mine.
I grabbed my keys from the door. The faded Billy Idol poster on the back always made me
smile. A former tenant had left the tattered relic of the eighties, and nobody had taken it down.
His Elvis sneer and single earring gave the stodgy room a more youthful, rebellious feel, and
reminded me of my own college days.
I padded down the hallway, my white satin chemise clinging to my chest. A warm, spicy draft
filled the air in front of room 213–Melissa and Sarah were smoking pot again. As long as they
shared with me from time to time, I never bothered to write them up. I remembered what it
was like to be young–it hadn’t been that long ago, really. Besides, my midnight snack called
from the fridge.
The kitchen was cold, the chill cutting through my thin nightshirt. My nipples perked up at the
frigid kiss of the open refrigerator. The smooth white glow revealed a saran-wrapped steak,
dark red blood congealing beneath the cellophane. Grimacing, I reached for the Tupperware
container of vegetarian gumbo. I snuck a few tastes of the spicy stew before sliding it in the
microwave.
As I reached for the steaming container, the sound of shattering glass filled the air. Eyes
narrowed, I stomped down the hallway and pounded on the door of room 213, but nobody
answered. Shaking the handle, I called for Melissa and Sarah.
A horror-show shriek pierced the night. I fumbled through my keyring, my hands shaking as I
slid the right key into the lock. The smell hit me the second I shoved open the door. Sweet,
musky incense and the sharp, tangy sting of copper. Melissa hung limp over the edge of her
bed, her long black curls dragging in a pool of blood. A man lay on top of her, his lips red and
dripping.
Packed with the soft trappings of female youth, the room was low on weapons. Yanking the
hot-water heater out of the socket, I smashed it into his face. Hot crimson sprayed the frilly
pink bedsheets, but the guy didn’t flinch. As I brought the cheap metal pitcher down again, he
laughed and flicked his wrist, sending the heater flying across the room. A gurgling laugh
bubbled up from his chest.
“Please.” He pronounced the word as if he’d done time at a finishing school. I balled up my
fists, my body in a perfect cardio-aerobics stance. Smiling, he reached out and brushed a gob
of blood from the sheer fabric covering my nipple. Touching it to his lips, he blew me a kiss,
then leapt through the open window. The jagged glass tore at his skin, but he kept on laughing,
his demoniac howl trailing into the night.
I ran to Melissa and placed my ear over her mouth. Nothing.
This can’t be happening, I thought as I forced breath into her lungs. Shutting my eyes, I tried
to recall my CPR training. First, locate the sternum. I ran a finger under her t-shirt, my hand
lightly brushing her uncovered pubic hair. Pressing against her chest, I coaxed a shallow grave’
s-edge breath from her crimson mouth. Convinced that she was at least alive, I reached for a
phone.
9-1-
“MISS VOLTZ!” Sarah tore out of the private bathroom. I was relieved to see my favorite
student from last semester.
“Sarah! I need you to help me, all right? Talk to Melissa–just comfort her until the ambulance
gets here, O.K?” I kept my voice as calm as possible. Giving her a job to do would benefit both
of them.
“Oh...” Clutching her flimsy robe around her, Sarah collapsed at my feet. Her head rolled to the
side, twin rivers of red spilling from her pale neck.
Behind me, Melissa moaned. I whipped around as she sat up, the diaphanous nightshirt
billowing about her slender body. Her eyes were deep red, her pupils reptilian black slits. Blood
soaked her satin shirt, staining the space between her legs a suggestive dark red. Wrapping her
arms around me, she leaned her head on my shoulder and nuzzled her mouth into my neck. Soft
laughter oozed from her lips as she pressed her teeth to my skin.
I tore myself from her, landing on Sarah’s body. Sarah moaned softly, snaking her arm around
my neck.
“Did I ever tell you that I loved your class?” Burying her face in my hair, she sealed her lips to
my neck. Her arms were strong–far too strong for a teenage girl, and her grip was like a
womb. I shoved her off. She slumped to the floor, her limbs bent at odd angles, a pretty doll
tortured by a sadistic child.
I rose and backed toward the door. The hallway was a hell of broken glass and high-pitched
screams. Girls tore by, their tattered nightshirts clinging to heaving chests. Blood-soaked
laughter filled the air.
A hand shot out from a doorway, and I jumped back. It was only Shauna. She was the kind of
student who started teachers on the road to alcoholism, but she was bite-free. Right now, I’d
take anyone’s help–even someone who spelled stupid with two o’s.
“It’s ok. It’s safe in here, for now.” Shauna’s nails cut into my wrist as she yanked me into her
room.
“Help me barricade us in.” She slammed the door behind us and grabbed the edge of her
dresser. I took the other end, perfume bottles and lipstick tubes flying off as we shoved the
dresser in place. My heart sank as I looked around. There was no phone anywhere.
“Don’t worry. We’ll be ok.” Reading my mind, she pointed to the tiny window above her bed.
Rummaging around, she added, “Well, we’ll be ok as long as the vampires can’t figure out how
to get in through there.”
“The vampires?”
“Yeah, the vampires. Now help me sharpen this.” She tossed me a broken chair leg.
A nervous laugh escaped my throat. Hoping against hope, I asked, “Maybe we’re just
overreacting. It’s probably just some, you know, some goth gang.”
“Goth gang?” It was her turn to laugh. Rolling her eyes, she flicked open a camping knife.
“Just sharpen that, ok?”
I jumped as something clawed at the wall. Grabbing the knife, I set to work with lightning
hands.
“Do it as quick as you can. Don’t be a perfectionist.” She yanked the half-whittled spike from
me. “This ain’t writing class.” Winking, she handed me another chair leg.
Who knew that straight-D Shauna was an expert vampire slayer? I thought.
“Huh?” She looked up from her carving.
“Uh, nothing.” Did I say that aloud? I had to laugh—how many times had I asked her to repeat
a sarcastic comment in class? Now the roles were completely reversed. At least one of us knew
what she was doing.
Three amputated chairs later, we had a bookbag full of spikes. Shauna poised herself at the end
of the dresser.
“Ok, you know how it goes, right? Stake ‘em through the heart. And Miss Voltz?”
“Yeah?” My hands trembled as I grabbed the other end of the dresser.
“If you have any second thoughts, just remember–those girls out there–they ain’t your students
anymore.”
I nodded as we opened the door.
The hallway was so quiet that we could hear the wind howling through the live oak. The hollow
sound reminded me of just how desolate the women’s dorm was, abandoned for holiday break
in a gentle wash of winter rain. A stake in each hand, we crept down the corridor and listened
for signs of human life.
Something howled. I spun around to see Shauna, a blur of white skin and whiter satin. I tailed
her to room 213 as she straddled Melissa, a stake aimed at her heart. Shauna looked up, her
eyes wide with terror.
“Behind you!”
Sarah leapt at me, her crimson mouth open. I panicked like a freshman who hadn’t studied for
the final.
“C’mon!” Shauna shouted. Sarah grasped for purchase, her nails tearing through my nightshirt.
Her gaping mouth edged toward my neck. I counted silently:
Five, four, three, two...her lips pressed against my flesh.
She ain’t your student anymore, I reminded myself as I aimed the stake at her heaving breast.
“One!”
In one fluid motion, Sarah fell upon the splintered point. As her heart gave out, her face relaxed.
Her eyes slipped shut and she moaned an ecstatic thank you.
“Less term papers to grade.” I shrugged, trying to make light of the situation. Nausea spilled
from my chest, bringing with it a steaming wave of half-digested gumbo. Wiping my mouth on
the pink satin bedsheet, I mumbled a sorry to nobody in particular.
“C’mon. Two down, ten spikes to go.” Shauna picked herself up from the blood-soaked sheets.
She offered me her hand and kept her voice low as we tiptoed down the hallway.
“The next room’s one of those doubles joined by a bathroom. We should each take a side.”
I nodded, my muscles sick with too much adrenaline.
“Ugh, I always hated haunted houses,” I feebly joked as we each took a door.
Shauna managed a grim smile. “On my count...one...two...three.”
I burst into the room, brandishing a stake in each hand. Aiming at the bed, I saw Jane. Cruelly
bent and broken, she lay folded between the wall and mattress. Forgetting Shauna’s warning, I
ran to her, dropping the stake. Blood soaked through my nightshirt as I knelt by her side.
Her eyes were rolled back, as if she were watching a horror movie inside her skull. I found no
pulse, but that didn’t mean anything after what I’d seen tonight. Tilting her head back, I did a
mouth sweep, this time looking for fangs instead of an obstruction.
“Don’t worry. She wouldn’t make a good vampire. I just left her at dead.” The voice sounded
like it came from every direction. Grabbing the bloody stake, I spun around. The vampire that I’
d bashed with the water heater stood before me, his face perfectly restored.
“You don’t need to do that. I’m not going to hurt you, unless you want me too.” His voice was
as calm as it was sensuous.
We stood in antagonistic silence, his steel-blue eyes boring into mine.
“Well, do you want me too?” He grinned.
I tightened my grip on the stake. “Get out of here.”
He threw back his head. His tousled hair fell away, revealing ears pierced with rows of silver.
“Love, I was here long before you. It was Billy Idol and cheap wine a go-go ‘till Dean Lemieux
kicked us out back in 82'. Roaming has lost all its fun. Squatting is a total drag. You wanna
know the worst? You’ve got no time to read your Camus when you’re picking fleas from your
mate’s hair. No, this is our home. We’re staying.” He sneered, fixing his reptilian eyes on a
faded Buffy the Vampire Slayer poster.
“You know, that’s not very politically correct. The college was so quick to hand out rights to
everyone else–gays, blacks, even women. Not vampires, though. We’re still the proverbial
boogeymen.” He turned his lips down in a pout.
Ignoring his last comment, I waved a hand over Jane’s mutilated corpse. “That’s all you want?
Then why all this? Why not just ask us to leave?”
“Because,” he turned his lips down in a pout, “then who would party with us?”
I lunged at him, the stake aimed at his heart. More graceful than the newly-made vampires, he
sidestepped my attack.
Grabbing my arm, he ran his eyes over my body. “Why don’t you join us? I’d make you head
of the dorm, forever. We could rename this place Blood Hall. Dorm B is just so boring. How
about it?”
“F--- you.” Swearing for the first time in years, I shoved him away.
He shrugged. “Lemme know if you change your mind. All it takes is one little…kiss.” In a rush
of jangling chains and well-oiled leather, he leapt out the shattered window. A book fell from his
back pocket. It was a copy of L’étranger, in the original French. I realized why they’d picked
the smart girls. They wanted equals in their hunger for both blood and literature.
I picked up the book and shivered, my skin crawling with the memory of his touch. He was
pretty good-looking, and I hadn’t had a date since...well, I didn’t care to admit it.
As I was wondering what on earth was wrong with me, Shauna tore into the room, her
nightshirt transparent with sweat. “Eight left,” She panted, her chest heaving. “Wait, did
you...?” Her eyes fell upon Jane.
I shook my head. “Already dead. Um, really dead, not...you know....”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”
I shuddered, nausea burbling its way back up my esophagus. “One of them told me, then
jumped out the window.”
She froze. “Did he touch you?”
“Well....” I grinned.
“Oh, shit. Stay right there.” She crept toward me, her eyes fixed on my neck.
“I’m ok, I swear.” I showed her the unbroken skin. “He asked me to join them.”
“And?” For the first time, she looked at me as if she really cared about me–not like I was some
annoying roadblock on her way to graduation.
“What do you think?” I rolled my eyes, not unlike a frustrated freshman. “C’mon.” I pulled her
back into the hallway. Three girls crashed into us.
“Miss Voltz, we’re the only ones left.” They clung to each other, their hard nipples poking
through blood-splattered nighties. Shauna eyed their necks, looking for telltale signs. I grabbed
her hand.
“There’s a phone in the kitchen.”
Shauna nodded, reluctantly tearing her eyes away.
“Here, everybody take one of these.” She threw each of the girls a spike. “I’ll bring up the rear.
Ms. Voltz....”
I led them down the corridor, our ears craning for the slightest sound. The kitchen was silent,
but I’d learned their kind could move without making a noise.
“Shauna, call 9-1-1. I’ll check around.”
“Uh, what should I tell them?”
“The truth. And to bring a bag of stakes.”
“Oh, god.” One of the girls grabbed my arm. Red, jelly-like clots shone in the white glow of the
refrigerator. Brownish chunks lay scattered across the linoleum.
“It’s ok–it’s just cherry pie.” I stared at the carcass of a once-perfect desert. The gumbo was
still in the microwave, kernels of white rice floating in a gelatinous brown liquid. Had it only
been minutes since I’d stood in front of that refrigerator trying to decide? It seemed like a
lifetime.
“It’s busy! 9-1-1 is f’ing busy!” Shauna slammed the phone back in the receiver.
“Keep trying. So, ah anybody hungry?” I offered a wan smile as the terrified girls slumped
against the wall.
“It’ll be ok. We’re safe here.” I sat next to them, caressing their hair, offering soothing words
that I didn’t really believe.
The Kit-Kat clock fixed its bug-eyes on us, its tail ticking out the seconds. Shauna paced the
floor, her knuckles white from gripping the stake. Someone started singing. She glared at the
girls but said nothing.
I didn’t recognize the refrain, but still I found it soothing. Curious as to who had the fragile,
ringing voice, I looked at the girls. None of their lips were moving, yet the music continued.
The singer chose a new phrase, repeating it over and over.
Oh, strolling through Blood Hall, with my little blood doll...
The girls clung tighter to me. Their tangy sweat mixed with the sweet scents of baby powder
and floral body spray. I pressed myself to them, taking in the perfume of their fear.
Closing my eyes, I saw his mouth. His decadent grin spoke of pagan sensuality, of a world I’d
never tasted...
...but could if I wanted.
Snapping my eyes open, I shook my head. One of the girls twined her fingers through my long
red hair. The singing stopped, and she began to whimper.
My muscles tensed as I thought very hard.
My decision didn’t take long. I rose, nodding at Shauna. “I’m going outside.”
She threw herself in front of the door.
“Please move aside.” I said in my most stern classroom voice. The singing started again. This
time, the voice sounded closer than before.
...strolling through Blood Hall...
“If you go out there, you’re on your own.” She gripped the lock, but I shoved her hand away.
“I’ll be fine.” I grabbed a spike and slipped through the crack in the door. The lock snapped
shut behind me.
I followed the crystalline voice down the hallway, to room 213. Curtains whipped the broken
windowpane, the wind carrying the haunting words to me. I stepped through the shattered
glass, snagging my leg on a shard. Warm blood trickled down my leg, but I didn’t care. It
would all heal soon.
Fine winter mists veiled a night that only fell in Southern woods. He stood in the clearing, the
gale lashing his long leather coat about his frame. Outlined in platinum moonlight, he tilted his
lips to the sky, mouthing the playfully seductive words. I crossed the damp grass in my bare
feet, the blood staining each emerald blade. As I drew near, he lowered his head and offered an
outstretched hand. I tightened my hand around the spike.
Then I let it fall, and wrapped my arms around his neck. Pressing my lips into skin that smelled
of death and leather, I murmured,
“I’m ready for that kiss.”
He smiled and brushed my hair back from my neck. I felt his mouth falling on my skin, the
warm sting of penetration. The stars grew brighter, tiny points of light opening like a million
tiny mouths.
Then I awoke. And I was hungry.
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