Live Girls (30 page)

There was a rush of movement in the darkness below, the sound of sighing voices.

There were more of them.

She felt another hand on her arm and opened her eyes, screaming because there were three more arms pulling on her, hands with fingers missing or no fingers at all, and pulling its way up from the darkness, squeezing between the arms, was something not at all human: a knotted, twisted claw.

She screamed until she could scream no longer, then sucked in a deep breath and screamed again.

"Stop!"
The voice came from behind Casey and was so loud it seemed to fill the room. “Let her
go!
"

Casey turned her head to see Shideh towering over her, flat round nostrils flaring with rage.

All but one of the hands dropped away and slid back into the darkness.

“Let
go!
” Shideh ordered again.

“I won't wait any
more!
” the voice beneath the door gurgled. “I'm
hungry!
"

Shideh bent down, took Casey's arm, and pulled it out until the bloated, diseased hand was visible. She wrapped her graceful fingers around the creature's wrist and flicked her arm upward. The wrist broke with the sound of a crisp celery stick being pulled from its stalk. An animal-like wail rose from below and the door clapped shut. Something fell heavily beneath the door and the wailing continued for several seconds before dissolving into a pitiful whimper and dying away.

“Are you hurt?” Shideh asked softly, throwing the bolt with her foot.

Casey could not reply; her sobs had gained such a momentum that, even though the hands and that God-awful claw
—
Jesus
, she kept thinking,
what
was
that, what the fuck
was
it?
—
were gone, she couldn't stop.

Shideh bent down and, with no effort, bundled Casey up in her arms, carried her to the cushion, and gently lowered her, then sat beside her.

Casey's sobs began to subside as Shideh stroked her cheek. When her tears stopped flowing, Casey realized that she was not out of danger. This woman was a monster, not even human, no matter how soft her skin, how gentle her voice, how beautiful her
eyes
...

Casey closed her eyes again and pressed her head back hard into the cushion.

“Stay away from that door,” Shideh said. “Don't even go near it."

“What are they?” Casey asked.

Shideh did not answer for a moment, as if carefully examining her reply. “My children,” she said finally. “Like you. But they were too quick to leave my care, too quick to feed on their own. They fed on bad blood. Blood filled with chemicals, dangerous chemicals. Drugs. Others ingested blood that carried the few diseases to which we are not immune. They're sick, crippled. But I care for them. There's a window down there and they could leave if they wanted, but they know better. They can't fend for themselves. They need me."

As she listened to Shideh talk, Casey's eyes filled with tears and her stomach lurched sickeningly at the woman's words.

“Like
me?
” Casey hissed, still not opening her eyes. “What do you
mean
, like
me?
"

Shideh touched Casey's hair. “I thought I'd explained that to you already. I'm changing you, giving you something you never thought you could have. After tonight, you will no longer be the woman you are now. You will be able to change your shape, your appearance, with a thought. You'll be stronger than you thought possible. If you cut yourself, your flesh will heal within minutes. So will your muscles, your organs. If you look out for yourself, Casey, you can live ... forever."

“No,” Casey whispered, shaking her head, trying to push Shideh's hand from her hair, “no, that's not true, it can't be true, you're lying to me."

Shideh stretched out beside Casey and put her lips to Casey's ear. “I have slept with kings, Casey. With emperors, pharaohs, queens, and princesses. I have lived in castles that are now ruins, in cities that no longer exist. I've watched battles from the sky and fed on the dying and wounded, men you've read about in history books. It's not a lie, Casey. After tonight, you will be virtually immortal. You'll laugh at the ones you leave behind, at their beliefs about you. Crosses and daylight. Holy water. None of it's real, Casey, they're just fantasies, things they've dreamed up to make them feel they have some power. They don't. You'll be a god, Casey, invincible,
if
you allow me to teach you what you need to know."

Casey kept shaking her head, eyes tightly closed, murmuring, “No, no."

“You must let me teach you about your weaknesses. There are only a few, but they can be fatal. A nasty allergic reaction to garlic, a minor sensitivity to bright light, bloods that must be avoided. Otherwise, you'll be like
them
, the ones down there in the furnace room."

“No..."

“You don't want that, do you?"

“Please, let me go."

“Think of yourself as my daughter until you're able to break away and live on your own. Until you understand your power."

“No, just let me go,
please!
” Her voice rose to a cry on the last word.

Shideh placed her thumbs gently over Casey's eyes and lifted her lids. “You can't leave,” she said. “It's too late for that now."

Casey jerked her head from left to right.

“I don't
want
to be like you!” she shouted.

Shideh straddled her and held Casey's head still in her large white hands. “It doesn't matter what you want, Casey,” Shideh said softly, smiling.
"I
want
you."

She leaned forward and placed her mouth over Casey's.

Although she couldn't really afford it, Beth decided as she walked into the dirty dusk on Avenue C to take a cab instead of the bus. She had to be at work by seven, and it was almost six-thirty. When a cab finally pulled over, she got in and gave the driver Davey's address; she'd get to the Union a bit late, but she didn't care.

Stupid idea
, she thought as she sat back in the seat and tried to get comfortable. That wasn't easy; Vince had thrown her a couple good ones before she left. Her left shoulder ached and she had an ugly bruise on her right upper arm. Her lower lip was cut.

Beth knew she should wait until tomorrow afternoon when Davey would be at work. She still had the key
—
Beth always tried to hang on to keys, knowing that, sooner or later, they'd come in handy
—
so she could slip in while he wasn't there, get what she'd left behind, and get out. He'd never know the difference.

But she wanted to see him. She knew that for her to show up would probably hurt him. Okay, so she was selfish, she admitted it. It was no surprise, she'd known it for a long time, and unless he was totally blind, Davey had known it, too. How could he
not
think so, the way she'd bitched about never having enough money, the way she'd gone out with other guys who
did
have money.

Of course, money wasn't the only thing. If it were, she sure as hell wouldn't be with Vince. He had money, sure, but there were other guys with more of it, guys who would treat her better. No, that wasn't all.

Vince's apartment was a virtual highway of drugs. Pills, heroin, coke,
everything
. Not that she needed them, but once in a while, maybe an upper or two now and then, maybe a snort. She wasn't like Vince, or the women Vince hung out with; she
wasn't
a
junkie
.

Not yet
, a nasty little voice sneered in the back of her mind. A voice she ignored.

Davey didn't know about the drugs. Sure, they'd smoked some grass once in a while, but nothing more. Davey wasn't
like
that. Maybe that had been part of his attraction, that innocence and naiveté.

That was part of the reason she was going to his apartment this evening instead of tomorrow while he was out
—
she wanted to see those little-boy eyes again, those eyes that she knew would look at her with affection, despite everything. She wasn't going to take advantage of that affection anymore. She just wanted to
see
it. Then she would get her things and go.

When the cab stopped, she paid the driver. She couldn't afford to leave a tip and ignored the angry remark he tossed over his shoulder as she got out.

Upstairs, she stood at Davey's door clenching her fists nervously at her sides. Maybe he wouldn't let her in. Maybe those little-boy eyes were gone.

Her first knock wasn't loud enough, she knew that, and she had to take in a deep, steadying breath before she could knock again.

No answer.

“Davey?"

Maybe he wasn't home after all.

She knocked again, waited, then fished through her purse for the key.

The television was playing; the news was on. There was movement in the bedroom.

“Davey?” she called again, a bit louder.

He came to the bedroom doorway, startled.

Beth timidly lifted a hand in greeting and smiled. “Hi,” she said softly.

Davey said nothing, he just stood there in jeans and a gray shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his hands resting on the doorjamb. His eyes were wide, as if she'd caught him at something. He looked ... different.

“I still had the key, so I let myself in,” she explained. “I left some things here. I think. I mean, I can't find them, so I figured they were still here. Three pairs of shoes and my hand mirror. Remember the hand mirror my grandma gave me? I can't find it. So I thought I'd..."

He still hadn't moved a muscle.

“Davey, are you okay?"

He slowly nodded his head. “Yeah."

“I hope you don't mind that I just, you know, came in like this."

He shrugged.

Yes, he definitely looked different. There was something about his eyes. They were so round and strangely alert, like maybe he had a buzz on. Not Davey...

“So,” she said, “how are you?"

“Okay.” He finally moved, stepping out of the doorway. “You?"

“Fine.” She moved toward him to go into the bedroom for her shoes.

“Your lip is...” He swallowed and looked away from her, almost as if he were ashamed. “It's cut."

She said nothing, went to the closet, and poked around until she found them. “You got a bag, or something?"

She heard him go into the kitchen. He came in with a brown paper bag and she stuffed the shoes into it.

“Have you seen my mirror?” she asked.

He turned away again; he looked nervous, maybe even a little afraid.

“No, I haven't. Check the bathroom."

Beth shouldered by him and heard his sharp intake of breath. “Davey,
what
is
wrong?
” she asked, more harshly than she intended.

His back was to her, his head bowed for a moment. Then he straightened up and lifted a hand to his mouth.

“You smell nice,” he said.

Beth smiled. He wasn't
that
different.

“Thanks.” She went into the bathroom and, after a few moments of looking, found the mirror in the back of a drawer to the left of the sink. It was really pretty ugly; it had a gold handle and frilly frame with four sparkly rhinestones around the glass. But she didn't want it for its looks. She put it in the bag and went back to the living room.

“You're living with Vince again, aren't you?” Davey asked, still not looking at her.

“Yes. For a while, anyway,” she lied. “The apartment's kind of roomy, so, you know, I don't have to be with him all the time. Not a great area. It's on Avenue C near Fourteenth, but it's kinda cute. The building, I mean. A red brick place, kinda rundown, but, oh, I don't know."

“He hit you."

Beth touched her slightly swollen lip. “I ran into a door."

“He hit you."

She started for the door. “Okay, so he hit me, so what? Maybe I
need
a good whack once in a while, you know? Maybe if
you'd
given me one now and then I'd still be
here!
” She immediately regretted the words and turned to him. “Davey, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I don't want you to think
—
"