Lesbian Vampire: That Which Haunts You

"How did Janice get involved with her?" tried Rhea.

"I'm not sure." Bethanny blinked in confusion, then her face dropped into her hands, overcome with shuddering tears. Rhea and Lucy exchanged glances. Lucy called her name-- Bethanny raised her head back up, now blank and slack.

"Focus, little friend," said the vampire. "Fight it off. Did you help kill Janice?"

"I was there," whispered Bethanny. "I was in the room when she died. I was already hexed and I couldn't say no. She wanted you--" Bethanny pointed at Rhea-- "but the hex didn't work. The other two said she kept fighting it off back on the island."

"Do you mean Brody and Jackie?" asked Rhea. Bethanny nodded.

"Was Janice hexed too?" asked Rhea.

"No. I don't think so," said Bethanny. "If she was, she wouldn't have told me she was going to leave."

"Bethanny," was all Rhea could manage.

"Lara made me tell her. She can make it hurt me if I don't do what she wants," said Bethanny, and clawed her nails across her belly. "I knew Janice was hiding at a hotel. She was too suspicious of Lara at that point and would never have let her into the room. But Janice still trusted me." Bethanny's voice caught, but she pressed on. "I let Braga in after she went to the lounge to meet Lara. I don't know what Lara slipped her, but it made her hallucinate. Janice was out of her mind when she got back. She ran right into Braga's arms." Bethanny paused for a coughing fit. She curled into herself, as her body was rocked by an unseen force deep within her. "Then they used the potion that killed her and made herlike that."

Bethanny shuddered. "They made her drink it." Rhea exhaled. That's why Greta's quartz had said she killed herself.

"But Lara didn't know Patrick was on his way until she checked Janice's phone. He texted that he got the key card she left for him at the front desk. They decided to ambush him so they hid. But everything happened so fast. He started screaming and threw himself out the window. People were hysterical. An alarm went off. Braga knew he would be seen carrying the body, even if he did get away. So we ran."

"Were you there when the body was taken from the morgue?" asked Rhea.

Bethanny shook her head. "Those were just some vampires he hired."

"Where's the body now?" Lucy attempted. Bethanny's face went blank. "I'm not sure," she said, in a far away voice. "I remember seeing it, once after." She nodded off.

"Bethanny," Lucy nudged her softly. Her head snapped up and she glared at Lucy. "You're not even supposed to be in here," snarled Bethanny. "But Lara took the shields. She isn't strong enough to hide Janice. And everyone else. So she took the shields like she takes everything. It's never enough." Bethanny spread her arms and made a broad, sweeping motion.

Lucy's eyes cut to Rhea. "Is she talking about the missing protection magick? From the building? Is that possible?"

"A spell can be removed but not taken," said Rhea. "But if you can't remove the spell, you can redirect its energy somewhere else."

"Does 'somewhere' mean close?" asked Lucy.

Rhea sprang to her feet, heart pounding. Lucy followed suit. "She's here?" whispered the vampire. But it just couldn't be-- Lucy would've sensed someone living inside the unit. And Rhea would've sensed the magick of another witch within a place she knew so well. If Lara was concealing herself within the building, the shield would have to be powerful enough to deter her but subtle enough she wouldn't notice.

A hot rage spiked through her, like someone set her blood ablaze. "The yoga studio."

Rhea was in a trance as her feet flew, retracing her steps through the enclave and down the stairs. When she reached the entrance corridor she turned towards the studio. Its interior was dark and dense black fabric covered the windows. She charged towards the door as if to ram it with her whole body. Before colliding, Rhea felt Lucy's arms wrapped around her, pulling her back.

Rhea thrashed wildly, hungry to smash herself against the door. So Lara would know she was here. That it was over. "You don't know what it does," Lucy whispered harshly into Rhea's ear.

Rhea felt her body cease its struggle against Lucy's arms.

"She's right," someone called behind them. Rhea turned; thought she could only see his silhouette from the streetlight and moon outside, she knew Kivan's voice in an instant. As he walked forward, he said "All the layers of protection have been redirected to shield that room. Touching that door is a good way to meet God. I can feel it from here." He wore a fitted black suit and a wide brimmed black dress hat. In his left hand he carried a dark leather duffel bag. Rhea knew he was right. As the hot rage ebbed she could feel the potent hum that protected hte studio.

"I have to get in," said Rhea. "She gets stronger every moment we wait."

"And I said you were being reckless," he shot back. "The hex maybe gone but your magick is still tangled up with hers. Is it in charge right now, or are you?" He glanced at the door. "I can lift the barrier long enough for you to pass through, but I only have enough strength to do it once. You have to do whatever it takes to end the spell or you'll be trapped. With whatever is in there."

"That means you'll have to kill her-- that's what that means, right? " said Lucy and glanced at Kivan. "I'll go. I'll do it."

Rhea looked at the vampire. "You still have to be invited in. So I'll have to go first." Lucy looked pained as she searched Rhea's eyes. Rhea lost track of how long until Kivan cleared his throat. He seemed to struggle to keep an even face. He turned to his bag and retrieved a knife. A long blade with a plain black handle.

"Stab the body through the heart. At the source of her power."

Rhea nodded as she took the blade. She and Lucy stood near the storefront doors, long panes of glass surrounded by a metal frame, twin door handles in the middle. Kivan spread his stance and intoned, deep and low. Rhea felt a thick pressure all around her and then her stomach dropped. Before her, the doors seemed to ripple like they were reflections in water. Then the mirage was still. Rhea reached for one of the twin pull-handles. It was locked.

"Lucy," she said, somewhat panicked. Kivan's arms were already shuddering from the weight.

Lucy lifted her booted foot and kicked the doors inward. The smell hit them before the shattered glass hit the ground. Rhea retched at the putrid stench of shit and rotting meat; it hit her like a wall. Then she heard Kivan groan at the stench and knew he would falter. Without thinking, she dove forward and the shield dropped behind her. The now misshapen doors swung shut. The glass had broken, of course, and she could see Lucy standing just a few feet away. Nevertheless, the shield was now in place and made the threshold uncrossable.

"Rhea!" screamed Lucy.

"I'm ok," managed the witch, but retched at the smell. She groped her pocket and tried not to breathe. She fished out her chapstick and rubbed it over her upper lip. The smell was still relentless but it gave her enough relief to think. She pulled off her cardigan and wrapped it around her face, bandit-style.

She was in the former narthex of the old chapel, now a waiting room with a desk and several cubbies. A wall had been added to divide the waiting room from the studio where the classes were held. As Rhea approached the door and the stench grew more oppressive. When she walked into the studio she found the source. The shiny floor that stretched across the wide open space was now covered in corpses in varied states of decay. Recent kills, bloated and dusted with quicklime, lay atop older ones, skeletons with a dried and ropey suggestion of hanging flesh and others just bone.

A cleared pathway ran from the entrance, where Rhea stood, to the other side of the room, cleaving the field of bodies. When the chapel was converted, contractors had hesitated to smash the altar, artisan-made of dark oak and marble. The yoga teachers shrugged their shoulders and, where once it held the transmuted blood-wine and flesh, the altar was loaded with statues of Ganesh and Buddha. Janice lay there now, still and perfect as if under a sleeping curse. Lara stood before the altar and stared at Rhea.

"It's over, Lara," said Rhea.

She took a few hesitant steps down the pathway. Holes had been gouged in the high ceilings, a crude sort of ventilation. Lara smiled. The light of the moon shone through the ceiling holes and pooled at her feet. The heavy garnet necklace hung round her neck.

A skull still attached to the vertebrae rose up like a snake. Its jaw swung in its hinges, a cruel mockery of the action of speech, "The party's not over Rhea, you just got here" said the skull. It lunged after her like a viper. Rhea tried to high-step away but the vertebrae fell apart and the skull hit the ground. It rolled away silent in a wide arc.

"It's not so bad, Rhea," said a voice behind her, this one deeper but still distorted. She spun and hopped a few steps back. A corpse sat up-- what used to be a man in a business suit. His face was half rotted but Rhea could still see a blond mustache crusted in quicklime. "You'll stay much prettier than any of us." The corpse cackled and its torso jostled with the sound.

Satisfied it would not move after her, Rhea took a few more slow steps down the pathway toward Lara. Her neck was wrapped in a thick bandage. The knife hummed in Rhea's hand.

"Braga is dead. Soon everyone will know what you used our magick for. Give up and we'll show you mercy." said Rhea.

"Your magick?" shrieked another voice, feminine this time. The body of a woman, half buried in the pile. Her bulged eyes were milky white and her arm stuck out at a strange angle. "And what do you know of mercy?"

"Lara, I'm not sure why you're angry..." Clad in white, Lara turned toward the altar. Rhea strained to see what she was doing. Distracted, she did not see a headless torso rise quietly behind her. She turned as it lunged forward.

"No," snapped Rhea and ran out of its reach. It moved at a slow, disjointed pace but still reached for her. The body's head lay on the ground. "Scream all you want! You're trapped here, with us. And we'll all be awake soon. The body stumbled and fell on its back. It rolled around like an overturned tortoise.

The smell of gasoline now cut through the chapstick barrier of her upper lip. Rhea turned around. Lara held a dark glass bottle. A rag hung from the bottle's mouth. Rhea froze in fear. Lara held a pearlescent white lighter. She flicked the cap open and lit the rag. Rhea's stomach dropped. Lara hurled the bottle at Rhea and it tumbled through the air.

Rhea ran towards the altar. Whether death by fire or by corpse, she would not be on the wrong side of the explosion. The bottle cleared her head and smashed behind her. Rhea heard thewhoosh of a hungry flame but kept running. A rotted leg twitched its way into her path as if to trip her but couldn't get enough motion.

Rhea paused at the bottom of the shallow stairs that led to the altar. She squeezed the hilt of the blade in her hand. They stared at each other, Lara's dress still somehow immaculate, even as queen of a fiefdom of corpses. Rhea heard a small explosion and she looked behind her in the direction of the noise. Some of the corpses began to catch fire--Lara must have poured more gas earlier. Three of them, engulfed in flames, rose up and staggered towards the altar. In that moment of distraction, Lara grabbed the urn that sat at Janice's feet. She ran through a door at the back of the chapel; Rhea wasn't sure where it led. At the threshold of the door Lara paused. She met Rhea's eyes and disappeared into the hall. Fire roared behind her and she felt the heat on her back.

Iron-grip on the knife, Rhea fought panic as she considered her choices. The inflamed bodies were coming closer. But something felt wrong. The fire, the bodies-- it was almost as if she wanted Rhea to chase her. So what would happen, Rhea wondered, if she did not? She walked towards the body. In the darkest hours of the night, she thought of how victory might feel. But now, as she lifted the blade, Rhea felt only sorrow at the life lost and wanted nothing more than to know Janice was free. She brought the blade down, deep into Janice's chest.

A blast knocked Rhea back and she fell on her hip. The air was thick with the smell of charred bodies and smoke. Rhea coughed and her eyes watered. The fire spiraled upwards. Yellow shone brightest, then oranges and reds. It became a long, yellowish gash and tinged the heavy air green. The bodies lifted from the ground and floated towards the yellow column. Torsos, fleshy limbs, and bones were pulled into its orbit..

Rhea screamed, then collapsed.

Rhea wasn't sure how long she was out, but it couldn't have been for more than a few seconds. When she opened her eyes, her vision was black around the edges. The air felt lighter than before. Woozy, she heard Kivan and Lucy calling. She sat up.

"Hey," whispered Kivan, "Rhea are you ok?" She felt his hands stroking her arm. The field of dead bodies had vanished as if it were a dream. The only evidence that remained was the charred ground and ceiling and the stench of death that she knew would never go away. Kivan kneeled at her side. Lucy stood a few yards away, eyes wide with worry.

"Are you ok? Kivan asked again.

"She got away," Rhea managed. The singed muscles of her throat struggled.

"But Janice is free," insisted Kivan. Rhea closed her eyes. That would have to be enough for now. Rhea looked over at the body, still on the altar. It began to wither before her eyes, as Braga had.

Rhea rose to her feet. Then Lucy was there. Lucy touched the witch's face with her hands. "I'm ok," Rhea whispered. Wordlessly, Lucy pulled away and strode outside, muttering something about the perimeter. Kivan looked confused but said nothing.

"I need some air," said Rhea.

"Me too," said Kivan. They followed Lucy out of the studio and into the corridor. The vampire continued walking out to the street. Rhea paused as soon as the cool air of the night reached her face. She drank it in. Kivan's face was sorrowful.

"If Lara comes back--"

"When, Rhea," corrected Kivan. "When Lara comes back. If not her, then someone else. This bell won't be unrung."

"You think others know this magick?"

"She didn't create it," he answered. "It was something that was already here. But the magick worries me less than her followers. Lara couldn't have done all this alone, and she couldn't have sown this much resentment by herself. How many witches out there, do you think, are desperate enough to kill?" His question was heavy with pain.

"Well, Bethanny," conceded Rhea, "but she was hexed. And she's sick."

"I know," said Kivan. He sounded far away. "She came to me, awhile ago. When she was taking a class on the island. She worked hard. But the disease kept derailing her. And with the bills, it was all too much. She knew if we allowed her to live on the island, among us, her health might stabilize after a while. I brought it to the other elders, but they said no." Kivan's lip curled as he shook his head. "Not within the tradition. That was their answer. Only the initiated live amongst the coven for more than a few days."

Shame curled awake within Rhea. Of all the indigestible parts of Bethanny -- that she was curt and irritable and the other students said they couldn't work with her. It never occurred to Rhea to ask why. Kivan continued. "Greta said many want to live among us for many reasons, but our work is preserving the tradition. Nothing else."

"Do you think she's wrong?" asked Rhea.

Kivan sighed. "I think that if we don't adapt, we'll perish and with us the tradition. I think we should care about the suffering we can prevent. And I think anyone can be a witch, regardless of the state of their body." He shrugged. "Besides, we laud death as transformation to reap its power. At the same time, the magick shields us from the worst parts of dying. Bethanny never had that option. She lives in an unwieldy body and her disease keeps her close to the veil between life and death. Think about that Rhea- is it her or us who experiences death as fully human? And yet we say she doesn't have what it takes to work its magick."

Rhea was silent for a few moments as she considered Kivan's words. "I just never want this to happen again."

"I think that means we need to learn from it. To be willing to think about what's really important. Is ritual and words in a book necromancy, or is it the witches who draw out its secrets?" he asked.

Over Kivan's shoulder, Rhea saw Lucy walking around the building. Something in her eyes must have lit up, because Kivan turned. "There was a door in the back that was open. I looked through the rest of the chapel and didn't see her anywhere." Lucy stood beside Rhea.

Kivan's eyes were curious, but he asked only for Bethanny. They led him upstairs. She was still unconscious but breathing and easily revived. At some point she retched up the sac from the hex. No fluid or viscera remained, only a singed oval in the carpet. Bethanny agreed to go the instant he asked. Rhea collected Janice's remains from the altar and sent them back with Kivan.

Rhea locked and sealed the doors. She would figure the rest out tomorrow. She followed Lucy to the car, silent. The dark city streamed by as they drove.

"She might have family somewhere," said Rhea.

"I could help you search," Lucy offered. When Rhea did not answer, Lucy squeezed her arm and said, "Stay out of that head, darling. At least for the rest of the night."

Rhea knew she was right. The car slowed at a stoplight. "Then I want you fuck me," she said, plain as day. "With everything you've got." Lucy sat stunned, until a honk from behind snapped her attention to the green light. She hit the gas.

When they arrived back to Patrick's empty apartment, Lucy locked the door and pressed her against it. Rhea felt Lucy's mouth against own and the hard wood of the door behind her. Lucy took Rhea's wrists and held them against the door as well. Rhea felt her heart race at Lucy's grip, tender but unbreakable.

Rhea groaned when Lucy kissed her neck. A deep, sighing sort of groan; Rhea could feel it made something tremble within Lucy. Into her ear, the vampire whispered "I could fuck you here, if I really wanted to."

And Rhea said, "Why don't you?"

Lucy smiled and lifted her up. Rhea's legs wrapped around her waist as her back pressed into the door; her pussy felt hot against the vampire's body and her clit ached with desire. Still holding her, Lucy moved through the home in a few strides and soon Rhea found herself thrown onto the bed. "Because sex against a door takes more coordination than you'd think. The more energy I use, the more blood I'll need."

"How much blood will you have to drink to make up for wasting energy carrying me?" teased Rhea. Lucy had stepped forward and started to work Rhea's pants off her legs.

"There's plenty of blood in the world," said Lucy, and kissed Rhea again.

On they went, shedding clothing and eager hands groping the other's body. The sensation of Lucy against her quieted Rhea's mind as it always did. Their united shadow flickered on the wall. She shuddered at Lucy's fingers inside her and the vampire's hot tongue sliding along her nipple. Lucy slipped away to prepare the harness and Rhea slid her bare body against the silk bedding

The lights of the room stayed on and bathed the witch's body in amber. Lucy returned and Rhea watched her slide the belt over her hips and tighten the straps. The soft panel of the harness stretched taut across the flat plane of her low back. A wave of desire rolled through Rhea and she felt her nipples constrict.