Even a vampire sometimes need a little TLC. Black Bet runs a safe haven for vampires who would otherwise perish in a kill-or-be-killed world. One young vampire comes looking for food and finds a whole lot more.
This is short fiction, first published...
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Black Bet's home spawned much speculation and rumor, but one legend among all others was consistent; you left your name at the gate.
I had been walking in the snow for so long, I barely winced, as I crushed mine underfoot. I had eyes only for the tall house that lurked up from the gloom. My veins ached for blood.
An angel-faced boy met me on the porch.
"My name ith Brututh," he said, not asking mine. "That'th Goliath." He pointed to a dwarfish man dozing in the shadows. Beside him, an old codger tilted back on a rocking chair.
"And that'th Beaver," said the boy. "Watch out for..."
Beaver's lightning fingers tweaked my bum. I whirled, grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off his chair. Goliath woke with a start at the gurgling, whistling sound that came from the Beaver's chest. It wasn't breath, but laughter. His toothless grin was the maw of a suckerfish.
"Don't ever touch me again." I threw him down. His rocking chair cracked against the house.
"Lady, you've got ithueth," said the boy, following me inside.
I threw him my best evil eye, laced with a bit of motherly ire. He backed away.
"Thank you, Brutus. I'll take care of our new guest from here."
A black-haired beauty stood at the foot of a stairway. I resisted the urge to fall on my knees. My kind doesn't worship anyone but if we did, Black Bet would be a saint. In her presence, I felt every crust of dirt on my skin. The hunger that has sustained me for so long faded next to her radiance. She smiled and held out a delicate hand. Her teeth were perfect chips of whiteness that soothed like memories of sunshine. I had traveled months to find her, battled demons, both real and imagined, starved, stole, scrounged and begged. When I took Black Bet's soft hand, something inside me broke. I fell at her feet and bathed them in my salty tears. Bet's arms circled me like a cape in the cold.
"Come child, don't cry. Let me look at you." She wiped the tears from my face, and tucked my greasy hair behind one ear. "A might scruffy, but we can fix that. We'll need to find you a name. What do you think, Hermit?" She spoke to a wispy vampire at her side. I hadn't seen him lurking behind her skirts. He wore only a loincloth, and his nakedness was painful to witness. His chest was thin and concave. His legs were sticks, his arms twigs. I cringed when he reached out and tilted my head with one gnarly finger under my chin. His thorn-like nail traced the fading bruise around my eye.
"Susan." He grinned, showing grey gums. "Black-eyed Susan."
I jerked away from his touch, and let my skanky locks fall across my face again, hiding my shame.
"A name needs to come from within," said Bet. "That black eye is no reflection of you, my dear." She ran her lovely fingers through my hair, not caring about the tangles and dirt. "Come now. We'll think on it some more."
