Sucking in San Francisco Read online

  All I can hear is the soft thump of my Nikes as I walk steadily on, the lapping of the waves, no heartbeat, no breathing. I see a blue light shine from the center of the walkway. It must be some kind of beacon.

  “Lilith, is that you?” a voice asks in perfect Queen’s English.

  “Yes, Aidan, it’s me.”

  “You’re early - I appreciate that,” he answers in a rich deep voice.

  “You can thank the exceptional taxi driver who gave me a ride. I didn’t want to wait for the bus.”

  He laughs softly.

  “Aidan, it’s freezing out here! Do you think we could finish this conversation somewhere over a coffee? My treat.”

  By now, I’m almost to him. The blue light must be right behind him because he looks like he glows with it.

  “How rude of me to forget, you must be bloody cold. I suppose we could go somewhere else. I have to admit I’m surprised you came. Just when I thought there were no surprises left.”

  “The world may still hold a few surprises,” I say and smile at him.

  “Indeed it may.”

  I’m right next to him and am positive that he glows a faint iridescent blue. The fog distorts it, but my vampire vision is excellent. He’s beautiful, gorgeous, eye candy to the max. He’s tall and lanky, wild sun-streaked hair in a boyish style. Ocean - colored eyes. His eyes take me in, all 5’4” of me, and I try to stand a little taller and stretch my short frame as much as possible. There isn’t much I can do about my strawberry blonde hair, it’s short and curly and does its own thing. My eyes are bluish green and I have good cheekbones and pouty lips going for me.

  Something strikes me as odd. He doesn’t smell right. No luscious human smell. No rich blood flowing anywhere. What is he? Everything about him is wrong. I suck in a deep breath trying to find a scent. For the hundredth time, I wonder why I’m doing this.

  “How are you?” I ask.

  The hair on my arms stands up.

  He thinks about it for a moment.

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On whether or not you’re going to tell me why a vampire is hunting down suicide victims in the middle of the night,” he says.

  The acid in his tone could eat through the cables of the bridge.

  Oh boy.

  “What’re you talking about?”

  He waves his hand at me and my body seizes like it’s in a vise grip. I can’t move a muscle except for my head. I struggle with every thing in me without letting him know. I don’t want him to know how scared I am. What is he? Is this how those vamps died? Please let me just make it home.

  “You know damn well what I’m talking about, blood sucker.”

  “What about you, glow-boy?” I sneer.

  That startles him. Good, maybe he didn’t realize he glows to vampires. I’m sure he knows I haven’t a clue to what he is. Oh God, he might be the one staking vampires. I can’t move a flipping inch. All my senses are on overload with fear. I can taste the salt in the air and fog as it continues to roll in. But I can’t get a fix on him. No heart beat. No blood. He smells of sunlight, a sharp contrast with the night sea air.

  He keeps me from looking away with his intense stare. “I want to know if you make a habit of luring your victims from your hotline. That is one of the lowest tricks I have ever witnessed from your kind and I have witnessed a lot,” he practically spits at me.

  I can’t stop staring into his eyes. God help me, they are mesmerizing. Mesmerizing and filled with hate.

  “Hey, whoa, buddy. You wanted to meet me here. I came against my better judgment. I would never take advantage of someone in this kind of situation.”

  He’s quiet for a moment.

  “What did you plan to do with me once you got here?”

  I stifle my guilty thoughts about my little feeding-as-a-last-resort-plan and all my lusty thoughts before I answer. I struggle against my invisible restraints.

  “I don’t know. I thought I could talk to you. Maybe talk some sense into you. If not, grab you and take you to the hospital.”

  He raises his eyebrows as he walks around me, looking me over. He takes his time as if making an inventory. He definitely did not expect my answer. How the hell did he know I was a vampire? I still haven’t admitted to anything yet. I don’t think that fact has escaped his notice. Or is this all an act before he pulls out his sharp stick?

  “What kind of leech are you?”

  “Hey, no need to call names,” I say through clenched teeth as I try to move. “I’m just a person who cares about her fellow man. Life wasn’t so kind to me before the Big Bite either.” My voice cracks. Dammit.

  He snorts. “Sure you care. I’ve never met a parasite yet that has.”

  “I said no names. I’m not like most people. I don’t know who you’ve met so far, but they don’t sound very nice.”

  “No, you’re right, I haven’t met any nice vampires. Very few nice people either,” he says thoughtfully. He dusts his hands off as if he has touched something foul.

  “Looks like you’ve been hanging out with the wrong crowds, Aidan.”

  He studies me for a minute and snaps a wicked grin.

  “It seems I have and that I might be mistaken. Forgive me,” he says.

  In one second he’s there and the next he’s gone. The binding grip is blessedly gone, too. My knees give way - I fall in the dark, in the middle of the Golden Gate Bridge, in the middle of the night, wondering what in the hell has just happened. How did he do that? Who had I just talked to? And why, for all that’s holy, when he smiled did I get warm in that special place?

  3 . AIDAN

  A vampire, by definition, cold blooded. A philanthropic vampire? A gorgeous, do-gooder vampire whose passion tantalizes like the breeze through orange blossoms? I must be insane. Me, a djinn, destined to walk the world alone or serve in slavery has just let a sworn enemy go. I’ve spent my life destroying vampires. Ever since the Djinn - Vampire war of 917. The vampires had made a campaign out of binding djinn using us to fight against each other. They adored sabotaging each other’s djinn. Never mind the pain and harm to the jinni. They starved us of energy to make us more ruthless, or so they thought. In fact it only made us weak and fueled our desire to kill our masters. It was a horrific time in djinn history. Hundreds of jinni were used up during that war, damaged or weakened beyond repair. Their essence simply drifted away. Joined the cosmic energy. Ceased to exist.

  The vampires think of djinn as slaves. When they lose one, they bind new djinn to take their place. I swore to kill all the evil vermin I come across. My skin starts to crawl whenever I get near one. Good vampires don’t exist. I’ve never seen one and I’ve seen all of this world, watched humanity evolve. Why didn’t I destroy her? I’m befuddled. I’ve been miserable. That has to be the reason. I’m not thinking clearly. Her face haunts my mind. Of course, all the vampires I’ve met have been easy on the eyes - it seems to be a club requirement of theirs - but a beautiful, kind vampire? Entirely out of the question. I’ve seen every kind of blood sucker imaginable.

  I once ran across one that was particularly nasty. Feasted on children, drained them and left them lying where they fell. They lay scattered like dolls, with their ashen faces and pale lips. The villagers thought a wasting sickness was passing through the village. It was disgusting. I blasted him, and regretted I couldn’t do it over and over again. Then there was Mathilda, a classic wicked step-mother, married about twenty wealthy men throughout Europe. The men died quickly and the children never made it past fourteen. I could go on for hours. They manipulate, intimidate, bewitch and seduce their victims and then gorge themselves when they only need a small amount of blood to survive. I’ve never met one that was worth saving. Yet I let this one live. I goaded her and she didn’t retaliate. She didn’t lie. There was something about this one. I can’t put my finger on it. I will find out. She wanted to help me. I could taste her sincerity.

  I need to walk. I need to feed and
a person’s energy is what I feed on, the more eccentric or intense the emotions the better. Swirling in the energy auras relaxes and stimulates me at the same time, like good jazz. The Castro at this time of night is a high-energy place to be. It’s effortless for me to blend in. A Gay Mecca, with its rainbow flag flying high. The Castro is filled with imaginative stores and bars. One of my favorite places is Cliff’s Variety Store, there are always a plethora of people coming and going from there or Hot Cookie. Both are closed this time of night, but the bars are open. It’s always good to be around people and this community has more than the usual flavors. People here are not afraid to experiment and try all lifestyles. It’s like going to Baskin-Robbins. I especially like energy that’s been stirred up a bit.

  I wander into a drag show. It’s steaming with energy. The performer looks more like Marilyn than Marilyn did. Everyone in the crowd is dressed up, trying to be something different for the night. So much energy, I’m feeling better already. I see a woman who reminds me of Lilith. The way she holds her mouth, defiant and beautiful.

  My meeting with Lilith has stirred me. Awakened a desire for mischief that I thought couldn’t be rekindled. Tonight I thought I was done in this world. I am curious for the first time in centuries.

  4 . LILITH

  I walk for awhile and get lucky. A cab in the middle of nowhere. It’s an easy ride through the Presidio’s quiet streets to my friends’ home in Pacific Heights. The mansions stand like watchmen against the night. It’s peaceful. The streets, low traffic by day, are now quiet. The night is something I’ve learned to appreciate since becoming a vampire. I miss the stars, though. As the city has grown the starlight has diminished.

  I stop the cabbie at a pillared mansion with carved marble flower boxes that rival the Spreckles Mansion. It’s the only house on the street with all the lights on. The lawns wind around an oyster shell driveway, lined with ornamental fruit trees. I take a running jump up the steps to the massive cherry wood front doors. They are ornate slabs of hardwood, incredibly thick, carved by master craftsmen and installed so that you can open them with a finger’s touch. They’re never locked. There’s almost always someone at home who can kick some serious ass.

  People work here - maids, a groundskeeper, and a butler, of sorts, who is on call almost twenty-four hours a day. By of sorts, I mean that he’s sort of a pain in the behind, sort of comical relief, and sort of my cross to bear. I found Andrew at the end of his rope and in need of a job. He had been a waiter in a coffee shop I frequented on Union Street. One day, the building was sold, destined to become a Pilate’s studio. While I’m sure the neighborhood needed tight heinies and ripped abs, Andrew was out of a job. He was sobbing in my coffee when I had one of my brainstorms, more like, Lily-likes-to-bring-home-strays moments. I thought, my friends don’t drink much more than coffee and tea and Andrew knows how to make and serve awesome coffee and tea. Connection-connection. Okay, so I was exhibiting a bit of my spur of the moment, off the cuff, manic tendencies. My three friends rolled their eyes when I told them. Actually, they’re more family than friends. It’s worked out for all of us.

  All three of them are home tonight. As I head in, I notice Sebastian, the youngest of the three, in his sexy, wicked jeans, worn in all the right places, suit jacket and button down shirt. He must have already been out and back again. He’s at ease sitting in the library, which is where we usually meet. Helena, my oldest friend, renovated the original house to make the library from two existing rooms, so it is huge. A row of tables lines one end of the room with computers and reading lamps. Numerous books in various stages of examination are on the tables at all times. Huge windows flank an entire wall and the remaining walls are taken up with bookcases and ladders which reach the floor-to-ceiling shelves. Souvenirs from their long lives decorate the room. For most people they would be rare artifacts, but to my family they are merely special items they couldn’t part with. We have to meet here if we ever want to include our leader, Julian, in anything. He is the quintessential book worm and scientist. Helena loves to surf on her iMac under the big, ornately framed-in windows.

  Helena, my best friend and ‘mother’, happens to be nine hundred and eighty-six. She’s Mediterranean and looks sun kissed. I was turned in the winter so I am pale as snow.

  Julian, Helena’s soul mate and lover, reads La Reppublica, an Italian newspaper, at his desk. He is seven hundred and ninety years old. Shaved head, a virtuous Roman. He’s built like a god. Julian is captivated by humans and has a protective concern for them as much as Helena.

  Julian and Helena are drinking their customary tea… sissies. They don’t have the coffee bug like I do. Sebastian sips his drink in front of the fireplace, which is big enough to roast an ox or an entire tree. None of them expect me to be off work yet. I stop by most nights, so they aren’t surprised to see me. They’d love it if I moved in. They keep asking me, I keep holding out. Sebastian calls me stubborn, I call it being independent. I ring Andrew for coffee and sink into the overstuffed, butter-soft leather sofa next to Sebastian.

  Sebastian. He is three hundred and sixty-five. Ancient compared to me. Sexy, provocative, engaging Sebastian. The most charming male I have ever met. He has a brooding temperament but he always has a smile for his family. He also speaks with a faint French accent. Love those accents. Why haven’t I hooked up with him? Because he is also the biggest player on the planet. His dark curls and smoldering brown eyes have been in so many beds he lost track of them centuries ago. He joined Helena and Julian as a family two hundred plus years ago. Their kindness proselytized him. He’s smooth, he’s polished, but beneath that pleasant surface lies a very dangerous vampire. If Sebastian thinks one of us is in danger, woe to that threat. I long ago decided to look at him more as a big brother, a big brother who just happens to be able to make women scream his name. Therefore, very much off limits to me and my inexperience.

  “What are you doing, finished with work at this time of night, Lil’?” Helena asks.

  Julian notices I’m here. He peeks around his paper.

  “I had the most interesting night.”

  “Do tell and why didn’t you answer my last text?” Sebastian asks. He’s new to texting and is addicted. I spend half my day answering texts from him.

  I pull my legs up to sit cross-legged on the couch. “I had a jumper on the Golden Gate Bridge. It was going great on the phone, English accent… yummy. He said he would wait until I got there to talk to him.”

  “Oh Lilith, you didn’t. That’s the worst kind of involvement for you to get into with a client. Tell me you called the police, child,” Julian chides, now paying full attention to me.

  “I know I should have, but there was something about him. I just wanted…”

  “Julian weren’t you listening? ‘English accent’ she was ‘interested’ in him,” Sebastian teases.

  “Let me finish,” I say, giving Sebastian a raised eyebrow. “I thought I could handle it.”

  Julian and Helena shake their heads.

  Helena asks, “Well, what happened?”

  “He glowed like a blue light special. Put me in some kind of binding spell and he knew I was vampire.”

  They are all riveted and absolutely still, in a way only a vampire can be.

  Sebastian clears his throat while turning towards me and says, “You must be joking, ma petite.”

  “He had a faint blue glow to him and he knew I was a vampire and I couldn’t move anything but my head,” I repeat as I stand up and move around the room, running my fingers along the spines of books, over the polished table tops, down the heavy brocade of the drapes. Their reaction makes me nervous.

  “He accused me of luring him to his demise until I reminded him that he asked me to come and talk to him. Then he evaporated before my eyes. I was hoping Julian might be able to help me out and tell me what’s going on.”

  Julian is a shade whiter than his usual light olive skin. So is Helena. Julian is the first to recover and breaks the s
ilence.

  “Lilith,” (uh oh, he never uses my full name unless it’s serious and this makes twice in the past five minutes) “it is possible you saw a djinn tonight,” Julian says.

  “What?” I say plopping back down next to Sebastian. He pulls me over and wraps his long, strong arms around me.

  “There is only one creature that would give off a blue shimmer, enthrall you so easily and also be able to ascertain what you were on sight and that is a jinni. The only problem is that if the djinn are not bound to do someone else’s bidding then it is acting of its free will, and it would destroy one of us as soon as deal with us. I’ve never heard of a jinni who would treat a vampire with benevolence. They are usually bound to one of us. But even an innocent djinn can have a wicked sense of humor. They are best not mixed with.” Julian stares over my head puzzling it out.

  “Why was he trying to kill himself? Or was it just a ploy?” Helena says.

  “Most likely a sick joke,” Sebastian says. His chest rumbles.

  “Could he be the one who staked the others?” I ask.

  “No... I wouldn’t think a djinn would mess with staking when he could vaporize his victim,” Julian says, glancing back at me.

  I wonder at the coincidence. Stakings start happening and we find a djinn.

  Andrew, the butler, brings the coffee and we’re all quiet for a minute, while I make my drink. I fix myself a coffee with heavy creamer and extra sugar. Vampires have a sweet tooth. Though we have a liquid diet, we make up for it with extra sugar. Thank goodness I can’t gain weight or I’d be topping the scales with the sugar I put in my coffee alone. I pull the black cashmere blanket from the back of the sofa over me and snuggle in next to Sebastian. He adjusts his arms around me. I feel comfortable wrapped up with him. He smells like cognac and cigars, hmmm… maybe he hasn’t been out whoring tonight after all. Wait, this is Sebastian we’re talking about.