The Thing in the Dark to Fear

Chapter 8

Kristen accepted the proffered glass of sparkling wine and slowly moved about the room. She was wearing the dress Ida James had loaned her for the occasion. It fit well enough and also displayed the beautiful turquoise necklace Ida had given her to wear. The dress displayed a bit more of her figure than she felt comfortable showing off. After arriving and mentally comparing herself to the other women, she felt quite elegant and sexy. She walked around and greeted those few people she recognized and was introduced to a few people she did not know. She introduced Jimmy as her friend and soon they were left alone to enjoy the artwork on display.
Jimmy quietly directed her interest to some of the artwork that was part of the exchange program. Kristen was impressed with his knowledge.
They came to a piece that Jimmy just stared at for a while. Kristen read the plaque, ‘Vlad Tepes also known as Vlad the Impaler.’ Kristen thought it curious that a man could have such a powerful legend associated with his life. There were of course battle scenes as well. Kristen moved on, and saw many scenes of dark fiction. An entire area had been dedicated to superstitions. When asked, Jimmy went on to explain the influence of the area. Hungary, Romania, Turkey, and many neighboring countries had been the focus of many invading armies. The trade routes had a great deal to do with the area's upheavals. Soldiers settling into an area tend to enrich culture.
“Well,” Kristen asked, “just how does an Army of Occupation enrich an area’s culture?” She thought Jimmy had a good point, but she pretended not to understand.
“Not necessarily an occupying force. Just people from abroad, many of the best traveled people are soldiers.” Jimmy knew Kristen was well aware of this.
“Okay, how do they enrich the town, or culture?” She was looking at a painting of a beast with distinctly female human features.
“Well,” Jimmy started, “do you know any Eskimo words?” Jimmy continued examining the paintings and slowly moved on to the next one.
“I think ‘Mush’ is an Eskimo word.” Kristen could not be quite sure.
“It is the only one I can think of right now,” Jimmy offered. “I learned that in elementary school. Education expands our horizons.”
“And your point?” Kristen asked, knowing that he had one.
“Okay, let’s say five hundred years ago, you are a small girl and you live in a small village, in Romania. Your life consists primarily of tending to animals and assisting with your parents’ trade, be it farming, ranching, weaving cloth, or whatever. Your family is poor and depends on good fortune to live well. Every two years or so your town and family is taxed above the normal when a military unit passes through. People get brutalized, the soldiers take what they want, and if you’re family is lucky, all they loose is property. You’re a girl, and as such no investment is made in you, like sending you to school. Shortly after your first menstrual period, you will be married off. They want to avoid the problems associated with an unwed daughter that becomes a mother. You make a home for your husband as you have learned, watching and listening to the women in your family. You teach your children everything you know, because knowledge is a tool. The town depends on each inhabitant to contribute to common tasks and problems.”
Jimmy looked to ensure Kristen was following his words. She was.
“So let’s say, you’re a particularly ugly little girl, and...”
“Oh, I like that,” Kristen shot in a quick retort with mockingly narrowed eyes.
“And,” Jimmy continued undaunted, “the only husband your father could find for you is the one armed old man from Nepal who used to be a cook in the service of the Turkish Army. No one talks to him because he is a dirty foreigner, but your family loves you and their grand children, and they extend their affection for you to your husband. Now since he has been befriended, he can share his knowledge with the town folk through your family and your children. Thus enriching the culture of that town, even if it is only a new way to serve roasted goat.” Jimmy especially liked the ugly little girl aspect of the lesson. It was in character with his facade.
“And the superstitions as well,” Kristen said as if contributing to the lesson.
“Oh, yes,” Jimmy agreed. “And, let us not overlook the influence of the church.”
“Hay,” Kristen said to change the subject. “Let’s get a drink and check out the young artist.”
“Okay.” Jimmy said sassily. He was sure he would see this exhibit again.

Kristen and Jimmy saw the Police Chief and his wife hemmed in by two artsy types. Jimmy suggested she rescue the Chief. Sam’s cheeks and nose were rosy from drink, no doubt; Leigh was on one arm, and the curator on the other. He had the look of a man ready to give in.
“Ah, Kristen, we were just admiring this piece. I would very much like to hear your thoughts.” The Chief sounded almost prideful, but his glance to Kristen let her know he was thankful to put the pressure on her. The small group awaited her opinion with uplifted brows. She had their full attention.
She milked the moment for it’s dramatic value as she assessed the painting. She moved in closer to look at the brush marks on the canvas. Then she stepped back into the group to gain their perspective.
“I like it.”
The group moved perceptibly closer to hear. “The initial impression is trite, but a closer look reveals worlds of emotional confusion. Well, of course, I haven’t had much to drink,” her brows furrowed a bit, “but I would say it’s kind of crowded with halting indecisiveness.” The group slightly moved away from her. She put a discriminating finger to her lips. “I get the distinct impression that the artist is young, trying to convey something repressed from childhood. The strokes are a severe imitation of style, which convey a juvenile but not quite adolescent, angst. I mean there is a clear lack of theme, either in color, depth, or subject. It looks like an oil work that almost wants to be a finger painted watercolor. It's an excellent example of free form, you know, the lack of depth keeps it 2 dimensional. The texture is very smooth until you see the brush strokes, and that offers some variety. No confining lines directing attention to or away from any focal point. The big cell phone seems to suggest that proportion and balance are not issues.”
The Chief cocked his head as if seeing it anew. Kristen continued, “I could forgive all that, but where else would this piece look at home except with the rest of these.” She made a sweeping motion with her hand to indicate the other canvasses on the wall. “I mean where would one put this and what does it communicate?”
Finally, she looked at the Chief and those around her. The chief was looking at it with a much less friendly eye. The Curator politely looked at Kristen as if she was something a dog had just left on the carpet.
The Artist would have smote her in her tracks if looks could kill. His face was beet red and the veins stood up on his forehead.
“It is a nice piece to support the rest of the collection.” She offered that to the Curator. Then to Sam, “He used quality canvas. I’m sure it would speak to me if I had more to drink and perhaps some pain medication. Right now I can’t help thinking Food Court, at a mall.”
Kristen continued to study the painting and pretended not to notice she was alone. The Chief was shaking his head while quietly giving his opinion to Leigh, as they sought some privacy. The Curator was coddling the artist and nodding her head, assuring him that Kristen was no art aficionado and he would make sales.

Jimmy had been busy making his rounds chatting with ladies here and there. Being a social butterfly had its’ advantages. You had nothing of interest to say but being friendly was very easy. Jimmy went to the bar where a young man was serving drinks.
“Hi, quite the little get together, aye? What can I get you?” He wore a nametag that read JR.
“Ginger Ale in a champagne glass, please, JR.” Jimmy made it sound sassy.
“Coming’ right up, sweetie.” The bartender tried unsuccessfully to hide his mocking smile. He handed the glass to Jimmy, “there you go, honey, straight… ginger ale.” JR gave Jimmy a nod and a wink, with a big smile.
“Thank you, handsome.” Jimmy picked an imaginary piece of lint from JR’s vest. “What’s the strangest request you’ve had tonight?”
“Well, Princess, this yahoo in a blue velvet bow tie asked for absinthe, if that’s what you mean. And he must be a loyal fan because he hasn’t had anything to drink in the last four hours.”
Jimmy glanced at is watch, 11:15 p.m.

Kristen was trying not to look too bored, when she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She had wondered to a window and was looking out to a fountain in the courtyard.
“It is a lovely evening.”
She jumped a little because she thought she was alone. The voice was soothing, masculine, and almost in her head.
She turned to find a man most pleasing to the eye, standing beside her. The tension slipped away, taking with it all thoughts troubling. “Yes, a beautiful night.”
“I‘ve startled you, please, forgive me.” He bowed his head but not enough to break eye contact.
Kristen felt lightheaded as she swirled into his light blue eyes. Her heart began to race. This was the most handsome man she had ever seen. He was gentle and she felt very comfortable with this him. She wanted nothing more than to be in his arms.
“I’m Kristen,” she held out her hand. “Have we met? Ever? I grew up in northern Virginia, but I’ve been away for a while.” She hoped the answer was yes. She forgot about the world and only wanted to be part of this man.
“I’m Anthony,” he took her hand and shook it. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Kristen. We’ve never met, though I must confess, you make me wish we had.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Anthony,” still holding his hand she reluctantly released it. “I wasn’t trying to be forward, you seem very familiar to me. I can’t place where we may have met.”
“I don’t think I could forget meeting a woman as lovely as you.”
They smiled at each other. Anthony held out his arm, “I was just going to step out for a breath of fresh air, won’t you join me?”
“Thank you, that sounds nice.” Kristen gladly placed her arm in his; it eased the swirling in her head. She felt as if she were in a dream, safe and secure with Mr. Right. Everything was okay.
They strolled out to the fountain, and then further to the atrium. Kristen felt beautiful, safe, and in love. He said all the right things, she was in control, and he was handsome. Maybe, she thought, the night held promise. They came to a bench in the darkest corner of the courtyard, and Anthony gently put his arm around Kristen. She felt very warm inside, and numb to the cool night air.
“You poor thing,” Anthony held her close, “you must be chilled.” Anthony pulled off his coat and pulled it over Kristen’s shoulders. He looked into her eyes and she into his. With her head tilted back to look into his eyes, Anthony could see the pulsing veins under the skin of her neck. He could hear the pounding of her heart. He could feel his own excitement mount. Anthony had planned to offer an explanation to Kristen that the turquoise of her necklace was believed to offer protection from many evils and induce a sense of harmony and well being in the wearer. It was just a curious indulgence of cruelty that he allowed himself but he hugged her close until the blood lust could pass instead. It was too late.
Kristen was lost in the comfort in his arms. She did not see the color of his eyes change from blue to murderous red.
Jimmy stepped out of the shadows and Anthony felt his presence. Anthony looked at the intruder through red murderous eyes. He pushed Kristen down onto the bench and in two very long strides was upon Jimmy.
“Nice tie,” said Jimmy.
Anthony shot an arm out and grabbed Jimmy’s throat and squeezed. Anthony saw Jimmy’s eyes bulge. He laughed as he lifted Jimmy off his feet. The additional body weight on his throat, cut off any aspirations Jimmy had for gulping large quantities of air. Jimmy grabbed the arm with both hands and tried to relieve the pressure on his windpipe, but it did no good. Desperately, Jimmy kicked until, by luck, he landed a solid kick into Anthony’s crotch. Anthony doubled over but did not release Jimmy. When Jimmy’s feet hit the ground he had leverage enough to reach back and pull a wooden steak from somewhere under his coat. He stabbed Anthony in the chest, but it was clumsy, at best. Anthony threw Jimmy to the ground and casually pulled the wooden steak out of his chest.
Jimmy hit the ground in an exhilarating spasm of painful gasping, choking, and coughing. Half hoping that once breathing was not his most immediate crisis, Jimmy planned to crawl back to the column he had originally hid behind, and recover a handy weapon or two. Had Jimmy been thinking clearly, however, he would have recognized the pattern of his good fortune; usually things went from not so good, to very bad in the blink of an eye, and then, apparently just for spite, they turned to desperately hopeless. The damaged windpipe, fading consciousness and a horribly angry vampire did constitute very bad but desperately hopeless had yet to rear its ugly head. Just in case Jimmy’s good fortune was paying attention, Jimmy considered it very fortunate that he had been thrown to the ground.
Anthony’s entire demeanor matched his body’s physical mutation. He grew revolting and grotesque. Fangs grew so slowly it made Kristen question what she was seeing. Anthony began breathing, very deliberate and very menacingly. His head and face appeared to writhe as the skin and skeletal changes became rapidly pronounced. He became a wolf-like beast.
Kristen saw these changes and slowly broke free of Anthony’s spell. As her head cleared, Kristen became aware of the chilly night air. The events unfolding before her struck a chord in her soul, with horrifying clarity. The subsequent jolt of adrenaline kept her frozen in place. She recalled her werewolf dream and suddenly knew Jimmy was the camouflaged killer in that dream. She now understood why he was familiar. Maybe, she thought, the dream was a premonitory dream of the events unfolding before her.
“Do you think you can hurt me, little man?” Anthony slurred the question through a mouth full of growing teeth. The noise came out as a garbled growl, but it conveyed a terrible intelligence. He leaped through the air with a growl, landed on Jimmy, and then stopped short his onslaught. Dropping onto his haunches, and subsequently onto Jimmy’s torso, Anthony gazed at his terrified victim.
Jimmy fought to regain the air that had just been knocked out of him. It had been a real struggle to gasp that much air into his lungs through a nearly collapsed trachea. He absently wondered if he got the air, would be able to think of something really clever to improve his situation. Dying well never entered his mind. He gave a valiant effort to breathe with this over sized beast on his torso and he tried not to loose his bowels. Now, by the way, Jimmy was sure things had progressed, rather nicely and without too much delay, to desperately hopeless.
Anthony’s body jerked upright. The silence preceding the upright jerk of his body allowed Jimmy to hear the flying bolt. He did not know it was the second wooden bolt to hit the beast’s back.
Anthony looked down. A small dark bloodstain on the front of his shirt explained why his power was slipping away. Anthony took a couple of rasping breaths before he shrank back to human form. Briefly, he again appeared handsome.
Jimmy caught a glimpse of shadow behind the man sitting on his torso. Then he saw a flashing blur of movement before the man’s head rolled off to one side. The body collapsed onto Jimmy.
An interesting observation about heads that roll off their inherent torso, is that there is usually an extraordinary amount of body fluid associated with such activity. By the time Jimmy rolled out from under the quickly rotting corpse, he was now trying to balance breathing, throwing up, gagging, and spitting an overly profuse amount of blood from his mouth. Had he been less distracted, Jimmy would have been equally concerned about the blood that had sprayed into his eyes. As fate would have it, good fortune had the keen habit of smiling upon Jimmy, and the blood quickly turned to dust. While this actually complicated Jimmy’s convulsive little dance, which was driven by a spasmodic rhythm of choking, gagging, gasping, spitting, and now crying, it was a positive indication that ingesting vampire blood was no longer an issue, at the moment.
JR gave his sword a quick snap, the blood that had been on the blade, and that had turned to dust, fell away neatly. JR then dragged Jimmy to the fountain and forcefully pushed Jimmy’s head under water. Opening and blinking his eyes in the ice-cold water, Jimmy’s life came back into focus and his immediate priorities became elementally clear.
Violently pulling his head free of JR’s hand and out of the water, Jimmy spat what water he had inadvertently retained in his mouth. No longer blinded but still in desperate need to regulate his breathing, Jimmy forced himself to calm down. He saw JR examining the blade of the sword in his hands, sporting a cocky smile. Jimmy looked about for Kristen. She lay huddled in a motionless heap on the courtyard floor. He started to crawl toward her.
“Relax, she just passed out,” JR said. He knelt down to check on Jimmy’s injuries but Jimmy held up a hand to keep him at a distance. JR stood and stepped over to retrieve his small crossbow.
Jimmy tried to talk but his throat would not permit it. He made a circular motion with his hand, indicating the courtyard, and pointed to the bartender. Jimmy put his hand to his throat and shook his head.
“Yeah, I’ll clean up and take her home. You going to be okay?” JR was genuinely concerned and helped Jimmy to his feet. The men exchanged questioning glances. Jimmy shrugged and then nodded to indicate he was okay.