Swan’s Celestial Foil

August, 1959

         After taking in a double feature at the Twin-Vue Drive-In, John McCoy drove his girlfriend, Victoria Church, to an out-of-the-way spot and parked. Beneath the star filled, yet moonless sky, the teenagers relocated their alone time together to the backseat of John’s ’56 Chevy Bel-Air.
         As Pérez Prado’s Patricia melodically mamboed on the radio, John and Victoria commenced with some serious ‘mamboing’ of their own. Then, interrupting their sizzle, from outside, on the car’s top, the amorous couple heard a solid tapping. Startled, John and Victoria’s hands quickly withdrew from the other’s wetness.
         “Something’s on top of your car,” panted Victoria. “Let's get out of here.”
          John hurled headfirst over the seats to the front. Victoria remained in the backseat. Fearing the worse, she pleaded, “Hurry, Johnny, start the car!”
         John pumped the gas pedal and turned the key. The engine cranked, but didn’t start. Again and twenty times still more, John’s attempt to start his car failed. With each attempt the engine ground slower and slower. The last attempts to start the car produced a series of clicking sounds. Then... silence.
         “The car won’t start! The battery’s dead.”
         “I’m scared, Johnny. What are we going to do?"
         John answered by trying to start his car yet again, but with no luck. Then, an eerie grating scratched the back window followed by a man’s soft voice: “John McCoy. Please, come out of the car.”
         “The creep knows who you are,” shrieked Victoria.
         Believing his friends from school were playing a sick prank, John yelled, “Boleo, is that you? You rotten bastard.”
         “No, John,” the man purred. “I am not Boleo. Come out of the car. I will not harm you. Victoria, you may stay in the car.”
         Upon hearing her name, Victoria screamed, “He knows who I am, too.”
         Victoria began crying; Johnny appeared more anxious than scared.
         “Maybe I should find out what the guy wants.”
         “Don't be stupid. I know what he wants. If you get out of the car, he’ll kill you and rape me.”
         “He isn’t going to kill or rape anyone.”
         Before Victoria could respond, the driver’s side window shattered with explosive force. John held his hands defensively in front of his eyes. As the rising moon shone more light, John was stunned thoughtless to see standing outside his car a tall, cadaverous-looking man. Before John could react, the ghoulish intruder reached into the car and grabbed the hapless teenager by his neck and pulled him through the opening made by the broken glass.
         As John wriggled to free himself, Victoria, panic-laden, watched helplessly. Unable to mentally grasp the horror playing out before her widened eyes, she covered them and screamed as the nightmare continued.
          John reached to pull free from being throttled, but the harder he tried to loosen the man's grip the tighter he squeezed. When John no longer struggled, his arms fell limp to his side and his legs ceased kicking. It was only then that the nearly dead teenager was released. Breathing ever so slightly, John crumpled to the ground.
         Victoria’s fear, though near paralyzing, moved to aid John. Unfortunately, blocking her exit from the car was… the bogeyman.
         “Be not afraid, Victoria. I am, Swan. Give me your hand.” Soft and hypnotic was Swan’s voice and without trepidation, Victoria did as she was instructed. Swan escorted Victoria from the car to where John lay on the ground. Victoria stood emotionless as Swan tilted her head to expose the sensuous contour of her young neck. With a sigh of anticipation, he quickly, but gently, plunged his extended canines into the tender flesh of the possessed teenager. Victoria winced, but only slightly as the vampire commenced sucking her blood.
         As if in a deep sleep, Victoria began to experience a warming sensation eclipsing any backseat romp. Laying her head on her right shoulder, Victoria arched her neck to allow the vampire freer access to take from her that which she was eager to give. As the vampire’s fangs sank deeper, Victoria unbuttoned her blouse and let fall the ground. With a vampire sucking on her neck, wave upon orgasmic wave rapturously crashed with furious intensity throughout her young body. Victoria embraced each wave with uncontrollable moans. Never in her wettest wet dream had she experienced a more demanding desire to give and be taken.
         When the last waves of ecstasy ebbed, Swan, with gentle care, withdrew his fangs searing the punctures closed with a wet kiss. He took only the amount of Victoria’s blood needed to complete his mission. He did not want the teen-aged girl’s life; he wanted her for his bride. Victoria slowly opened her eyes to her new world. She did not need Swan’s gentle voice to tell her what his kiss had done; she knew and savored the transformation.
         Swan, pointing a long slender finger at the boy he nearly strangled, whispered, “He is not dead, Victoria. I have saved the pleasure of that deed for you to perform.”
         With an evil glint and a wicked smile, Victoria knelt next to John.
         “Feast Victoria,” the vampire urged. “His blood is yours to imbibe.”
         Once more Victoria became aroused, but what she desired ran warmly through John’s veins. She aggressively plunged her fangs into John’s neck and began to suck and slurp his warm blood. Under the soft glow of the now full moon, and standing nearby wearing an approving smile on his thin lips, Swan attentively witnessed Victoria’s draining assault upon her first victim.
          John lay unconscious as Victoria slowly siphoned-off his blood. As she feasted, she noticed not John’s legs: they began twitching ever so slightly. She opened her jaws wider and sank her fangs deeper into her host’s neck.
         Within seconds, John’s twitching legs began to contort, reshaping to the configuration of something inhuman. His eyebrows became bushy and met over the bridge of his nose. His ears became long and narrow. His skin became rough and hairy. His fingernails grew long.
         Swan saw what John was becoming and called to Victoria, but Victoria was so engrossed with bloodsucking she did not hear. So engrossed she did not notice John’s transformation from human to werewolf.
         The werewolf lay still as a vampire drank his blood. He lay still, but alert. Swan reached to pull Victoria from the beast’s neck, but she defiantly snarled her contempt. Then, unexpectedly, John sprang from where he lay, ripping as he did so Victoria’s fangs from his neck. Before Victoria could react, John pounced on her. Swan stood back for fear of being bitten.
         The werewolf straddled the vampire, pinning her arms to the ground. Victoria fought to free herself as John leaned closer to her horror-stricken face. As the werewolf’s hairy face came closer to the vampire’s, she vehemently shook her head from side to side. John’s eyes were now inches from Victoria’s. For a split-second, the beautiful vampire and grotesque werewolf’s eyes met. Then, with a howl, John twisted his body and directed a quick bite to Victoria’s left thigh. He then ran, disappearing into the moonlit night.
         Victoria, blood trickling from the corners of her mouth and down her chin, wearily uttered, “My God. What happened?”
         Dry of emotion, Swan murmured, “Your boyfriend’s a werewolf.”
         With a quick tongue-swipe, Victoria lapped from her face any residual traces of John’s blood. “A… what?” she questioned, her voice expressing her confound disbelief.
         “Werewolf,” whispered Swan. Directing his attention to Victoria’s wound, the vampire spoke with an edge of disappointing concern, “Victoria, you have been bitten.”
         Victoria dabbed at her bleeding leg and licked the blood from her fingers. “Yes, I know.”
         “No, I fear you do not. You see, Victoria, whoever is bitten by a werewolf will soon become one. You are a vampire, but with the next full moon, you will be both vampire and werewolf, and John, a werewolf, is now too, because you sucked his blood, a vampire. You and John are vamwolves.”
         Victoria wearily attempted to stand, but the pain radiating from being bitten was too excruciating. Swan lifted the young vamwolf in his arms and carried her to John’s car. There, he explained in detail the horror of being what she became.
         “You, Victoria, are vampire and werewolf; your heart beats the blood of both. Such that it is for you, it is for me most unfortunate. I will not marry a mixed-blood creature. I shall miss that which I looked forward to enjoying.”
         With that said, Swan morphed into a giant bat and flew off into the night, breaking the dominating hold he had on his would be future wife.
          Victoria, stranded in an out-of-the-way spot, sat in a car that would not start. She wished for something that could not be: Yesterday. She smothered her face with her hands and began to cry. “My life is over before it began,”
         “Don’t be silly, Vicky.” John, no longer possessed by the full moon’s curse was standing at her side.
         “Johnny?”
         “Who else?”
         In a panic state of confusion, Victoria relayed to John, Swan’s declaration that they were vamwolves.
         John wrapped his arms around Victoria. “I’m pretty sure there are far worse things in the world to be than a vamwolf. Just what, I haven’t clue, but, with time on our side, I’m certain we’re gonna be just fine.”
         A nervous, but contented smile broke across Victoria’s lips. “If there’s one good thing about all this, it is I won’t be having to spend another day with my perverted stepfather. Good riddance to that sick piece of trash.” Then pausing to put on her blouse Victoria asked, “Can I stay at your place?”
         “Sure, but what about your mother? You need to let her know.”
         “Mom died two summers ago: Cancer. I never knew my biological father.”
         “Sorry, Vicky. My parents died in a car crash. So, we're both orphans. I live with an uncle. But sure, stay at my place. My uncle won’t be back from Europe until the end of September. It’ll be fine.
         “Before we try to get my car started, there’s something”… John knelt down on one knee. “Victoria Church, if you will have me, I want to be with you for eternity.”
         For the first time in hours, Victoria laughed; the teenaged vanwolves trenderly embraced.
         Luckily, John was able to get his car started. While driving to his uncle’s, Victoria nonchalantly asked, “Tell me Johnny, why’d you bite me?"
          Pulling Victoria closer to him, John smiled, “Sorry about the nip. I guess it was the beast in me. Let’s make a promise: You no suck my blood, and I no bite you.”
         The promise was sealed with a passionate kiss.

Epilogue


         Over the years, John and Victoria have come to appreciate the extra bonus being both werewolf and vampire affords them.
         Sixty-four years have passed since that warm August night in 1959. In that time, John and Victoria have drained thousands of men, women, and children of their blood. But it is once a month, when the moon waxes full, they relish most. For it is then, as werewolves, they prowl the night for juicy victims to maul, then, as vampires, share the delight of drinking their blood.
         As world travelers, John and Victoria have developed an urbane palate. They have discovered that blood differs in taste from country to country, from man to woman, from occupation to occupation.
         It’s curious to wonder if in their travels John and Victoria have paid a visit to your neighborhood. If they have not, then when?

WC: 1,924