Shock to the System
The tent at the corner of Greene and Elizabeth Streets was enormous, like a real circus tent. A sign made an arch out front: Holiday Cayo Carnival. Underneath, a local band played rock versions of Christmas carols and other cover songs. That's because nobody knew theirs well enough to sing drunkenly along. There was seafood and beer. A man breathed fire, a woman barked like an auctioneer to sell tickets to a skeeball game. The 'carnies' were actually members of the Harbor Branch Oceanographic Institution, and they held the event every year to benefit the coral reefs.
Hannah had a plate of fried jumbo shrimp and lemon wedges. She sat at a picnic table, squinting and leaning away as she pinched a piece of the fruit. Squirting lemon juice in her eye would be bad. Once finished, she licked her fingertips and ate a piece of shrimp. She washed it down with beer out of a red cup.
The blonde was alone. Kind-of a habit. Hannah was a "people person", but her life was full of strangers, a never-ending parade of faces who spoke to the friendly girl at the craft stand and left. A few exceptions existed, like Mallory, and the odd date here and there, just because men made her feel like a natural woman. But most of the time, Hannah was an island. She had her reasons.
For such a social animal, the redhead had been very reclusive since her 'rebirth'. So many thoughts jammed up in her brain from the moment her eyes opened on the beach. Ideas and desires and fears crammed into her head, chief among them 'why here'? This wasn't her world. Was there a limitation to bringing the vampire back to unlife? Could they not revive her from the scattered ashes? Or had they? Why was Rhiannon in this reality? Not just a duplicate, but the woman she'd known and fought against so many times. A Slayer she chose to save, instead of eating, walking away or simply eviscerating. None of it made sense.
It was ironic also to find herself in Florida. She spent some time in Miami back in the early 1980s, and remembered an encounter with another vamp named Katherine. Oh the fun they shared. But not here. It never happened in this world. They'd never met. It was beyond difficult resolving two sets of memories.
Still, Deanna couldn't hide forever. She needed to get out, interact, be herself. If she only understood what that now meant. She was an island in a sea of people.
"Ma'am!" Hannah's leg was curled underneath her. She raised up on it a little, trying to make herself heard. "Ma'am!" Still a no-go. Okaaaay... Maybe a little arm-waving would do the trick. "Hey... Red!" She whistled and gestured with her arm. "Sorry, it's just... You have toilet paper on your shoe." A sympathetic expression convinced the woman to look down. Sure enough, about six squares of White Cloud trailed behind her.
Hannah shrugged. "It could be worse. At least the stall you went in had toilet paper. I had to waddle around searching for some." After the woman kicked it free of her shoe and wandered off, looking peeved to have been called out on it, Hannah sank back onto the bench. She picked up a shrimp and twirled it by the tail. "Don't shoot the messenger."
Jesus. Deanna's suffered untold indignities in her undead life, but trailing toilet paper through a crowded street was just ridiculous. All she'd gone in for was to touch up her modest make-up and this is what happened. The Gods were playing a joke on her. A long, eventful joke.
She'd gotten a few meters away from the woman who'd at least bothered to warn her about the faux pas and stopped. What was it she'd just been thinking about? Hiding? Not being the social animal she used to be? Ugggh. It wouldn't hurt her to at least thank the good samaritan. Would it? That wasn't something the old Deanna'd do. Unless it was a pretext to getting the person alone and draining them dry.
C'mon, what've you got to lose being nice?
Fine.
The redhead turned one hundred and eighty degrees and strolled back to where she'd heard the voice. She scanned the crowd.
"Don't shoot the messenger."
Same voice. Locked in, Deanna walked with purpose to the picnic table, head slightly bowed. A tinge of embarrassment crept up her spine. "Hey," she finally offered, not really looking at the woman. "Sorry, I was being rude. Thanks for--"
The vampire finally looked at the blonde. "Hannah?!"
She stopped mid-chew. "Umm... Speaking?" A piece of shrimp fell out of the blonde's mouth. "Oooh." She leaned over her plate and wiped her mouth. Alright, so yeah, in the cosmic scheme of things, that little mishap put them on even turf. What was toilet paper on a shoe, when she answered questions with her mouth open and shrimp flew out? Hannah wadded a napkin and made sure her mouth was clean before saying anything. "Sorry, that was beyond gross. Do you know me from my store or something?" Hannah liked to think she had a memory for faces, but nobody's memory was perfect, so she didn't feel too guilty about not recognizing the woman.
The temporary joy in finding another familiar face in an unfamiliar world was replaced with dread and disappointment. Rhiannon came over, but Hannah didn't. Christ, this is gonna be one clusterfuck of a ride. The redhead pushed back a strand of her red hair and cleared her throat. "Uh, yeah... the store. I was there, uh, a week or two ago. Early Christmas shopping." Deanna needed to keep it as vague as possible. Hopefully the blonde would offer up more information.
"Oh." Hannah nodded, her lips pressing tightly together. "Cool." The silence continued as she tried to figure out what the redhead wanted, aside from an impromptu reunion. She took another bite of shrimp, its batter crunching between her teeth. Awwwk...ward, thought Hannah. She sipped her beer and watched the woman over the rim of her cup. Then her brow furrowed. "Oh god, it didn't break, did it? What you bought? If it did, you can bring it by. I'll hit it with a glue gun or replace it or something."
Shit, shit. It was those angel tree-toppers, she just knew it. Their heads kept popping off. Nothing said holiday cheer like a headless angel.
"Hmmm? Oh! No! No, it's fine." Deanna waved her hands submissively, to continue the charade. Her mind raced. Glue gun. Hannah -- still the woman's name, if not the same person she'd tried to seduce at the Fang Noir Hallowe'en party -- made crafts? That was useful. "In fact," the vampire continued, "I liked it so much I decided I wanted one for myself. I'm kinda new in town and you know..." she chewed on her thumbnail.
Hannah's eyebrows quirked. What being new in town had to do with island-themed junk, she didn't know. But maybe the redhead was just looking for a friendly face in the crowd, and if that was the case, who was she to refuse? She waved the woman over. "Sit down," she invited, getting settled more comfortably on her side of the table. A plastic cloth covered it and she patted the spot across from her. "I feel bad, I don't remember your name. Like at all. Want some shrimp?" Hannah slid the plate into the center of the table. She withdrew her hands and wiped her fingers in the napkin.
The redhead slid onto the seat across from Hannah, and waved off the shrimp. "Thanks but I'm trying a new diet," the vampire replied. That was certainly true. "I'm Deanna," she continued, "and it's okay if you don't remember. Just a face in the crowd right?" She held out her hand.
Hesitation. Hannah looked from the hand to Deanna's face. It was always there, a little twitch in her memory. What if...? But it was silly and she knew it. "Not anymore." Offering a smile, she reached across and shook the woman's hand, although she kept it pretty brief and loose, on the tips of her fingers. It was what Hannah used to call a 'fishy' handshake, before she started giving them out. Now she called them 'safety shakes'. Get in, get out, get a grip on yourself because nothing's gonna happen.
"Deanna's a nice name," she said. "Like on Star Trek. You know, the counselor in the tight... everything?" Hannah's mouth quirked. "You could practically see her belly button, that's what my grandma said. But I think it was a lot worse than a belly button."
The brief handshake shot a jolt of electricity up the vampire's arm. It shocked her senses and ignited every nerve. It took every ounce of control to push the demon away. What the hell--? As her practice in public spaces, Deanna focused on her unneeded breathing.
"Camel toe," the redhead nodded. "Lots of potential for that. Kept me watching every week until they put her in a standard uniform." The redhead laughed heartily, partly at the memory -- and thankful this world had many of the same reference points -- and for the distraction from what had briefly transpired. "I'd like to think I came up with the name first though," she continued. "Not that I hold the rights or anything. I think if I had a bigger bust I might've dressed up as her for Hallowe'en instead of a Sl-- supermarket check-out girl. Not too sexy in retrospect."
"You dressed up as a..." Hannah frowned. Did supermarket check-out girls wear anything special? "You're right, that was a weak costume. No offense!" She sipped her beer. "Although I feel your pain. One time I was in a bind. I went to this get-together, only I didn't know it was actually a costume party, so I had to borrow my friend's work shirt and some plastic gloves and go as a Subway sandwich artist. I smelled like onions all night. Usually I'm more creative."
Hannah looked at the stage because she heard people clapping. It was nothing too exciting, just a ten-minute break for the band. Music piped through the speakers to keep the place jumping. "You know," she said, coming back to the conversation at hand, "I think you should reconsider the whole boob thing. Don't let a moderate bustline keep you from doing your thing. If push comes to shove, you can always stuff."
Deanna smirked. Once upon a time she'd seen another Hannah in a much more revealing Hallowe'en costume, complete with a whip. Her imagination suggested that the blonde seated in front of her would look (and possibly act) just as delectable, given a push in the right direction. "Oh I don't mind my boobs so much," the vampire replied. "Gotten my fair share of compliments. It's my butt that's a bit lop-sided. You, on the other hand," it took a little effort to not appear entirely lascivious, "you're perfectly proportioned, Hannah. Who cares if you smelled like onions at Hallowe'en."
To her surprise, the redhead caught her foot tapping to the pre-taped beat blaring over the speakers. Maybe this was what she needed; a chance to interact with another person without (constantly) thinking of their neckline. Well that poses an interesting question. What if she offered her vein to me? It wouldn't be so repulsive, now would it?
The vampire leaned in conspiratorially, willing the blonde to match her movement. "You know what I'm in the mood for?" A sly grin crossed Deanna's face. "Something hard, fun and freeing. Care to join me?"
Hannah got lost in staring down at herself, wondering how Deanna knew about her perfect proportions since she was seated. Had a button come loose on her shirt? So when she looked up and found Deanna practically rubbing noses with her, she flinched. "Whoa. Ah... hard, fun, and freeing? What have you got in mind?" Given her lively imagination, Hannah could think of several things that were both hard and fun... Several more that were fun and freeing. But all three at once?
Since she wasn't dense, Hannah knew Deanna was into girls, but she wasn't exactly sure if the redhead was hitting on her personally. There was kind-of an... age difference, wasn't there? "Are you going to ask me to ride a mechanical bull?" she asked.
'If I play my cards right...' immediately jumped into the redhead's brain, but what spilled from her lips accompanied with a laugh was, "No, not so much." She gauged Hannah's face for any discomfort. "I was thinking more along the lines of a tequila-karaoke drinking game."
From her slung low purse, Deanna removed a silver cigarette case. It wasn't the same as she used to carry, but she'd bought it specifically to remind her of home and the life she used to live. She flipped it open, took one out and left it open on the table should the blonde wish to partake. "Here are the rules. If someone chooses a power ballad, take a shot. If they choose a song by a hair band, take a shot." A lighter ignited the end of her cigarette. "If it's Celine or Whitney, take a shot." The vampire inhaled. "If they're foolish enough to attempt a power ballad by a hair band, Celine or Whitney, you double it." A cloud of smoke wafted into the night sky as she exhaled.
Hannah lifted a finger. "There's just one problem," she said. "I have the constitution of a field mouse. Maybe a domesticated one, if they have less constitution." Sure, she drank. It was Key West, for pete's sake! But fruity drinks and beers, not usually the hard stuff, because she weighed one hundred pounds soaking wet. "If I play that game with you, I'm gonna wake up in a pool of my own sick, wearing somebody else's clothes." And boy, did she hate hangovers, especially when she needed to work outside in the blazing sun the following day. "Plus, I don't know you."
"Technically," Deanna pointed out, "that's two problems. But they're both easily rectified." She willingly withheld a third setback. 'I'm a vampire and I'm really hungry.'
The older woman drummed her fingers lightly on the table as she sought a solution. She knew Hannah'd picked up on 'I like girls' vibe and wasn't scared off... but she wasn't about to go off to a karaoke bar to get blazing drunk and molested in a nearby alley without getting more comfortable first. "Okay, so you don't know me," Deanna stated matter-of-factly. "Let's change that. Ask away."
The blonde's mouth twisted cynically. "C'mon, you can't really know somebody for a while! It's about... well, it's about observing behavior over a series of circumstances." Hannah took a bite of a shrimp. They were getting cold and the batter a bit soggy in its lemon juice. Better plow through them fast. "But for the sake of conversation and you being new in town, I'll play along," she said. "Plus, for every good answer you give me, I'll give you one, too. Assuming you're even curious."
She sighed and gave the redhead a pensive look, trying to drum up a question worth knowing an answer to. "What line of work are you in?"
Deanna wished for table service. She'd appear more natural if she had her own plastic cup full of beer (despite not enjoying the beverage). She could scrape a nail over the rim, stare into it or swish the liquid around. "I'm kind of in-between right now," she offered. "Before I... moved here, I wrote a book. A fictional biography." It wasn't a total lie; from what the redhead learned vampires existed in shadow, the stuff of myth and Anne Rice novels.
"I've got some money saved up and it'll last me at least a few more months. If I could, though," the redhead continued, "I'd design clothes." The older woman took another hit from the cigarette. "Your turn. You don't smoke or drink to excess, Miss Hannah, so tell me... what's your vice?"
"Oh my god!" Hannah pressed her hands to her chest, overlapping them. Her eyes grew round, her mouth becoming an open bow. "I'm a writer, too! The whole craft-selling thing is just so I can pay rent." She smiled and popped the last fried shrimp into her mouth. "I mean, I'm not like, big time, but I made enough to offset my advances and guarantee I can keep doing it. I write romantic adventure stories."
She washed down the seafood with her warming beer. Perhaps she should consider writing a lesbian into her next novel, she thought. Lesbians on a horse ranch in the American southwest. Maybe Deanna would provide her with an insider's perspective when needed. "My vice is smutty TV," she said. "You know, like reality shows. They're awful but I can't look away, especially those courtroom dramas, where you're never sure if they're making the whole thing up."
"See? We already have something in common." Deanna finished her cigarette, dropped the end and ground it under her foot. She placed both her palms on the table. "I've only written the one, kind of a labor of love. I'd really like to read yours sometime," the vampire grinned. Something about the blonde made it easy to slip into a conversational tone. While there was a part of her that wanted nothing more than to lure the young woman away from the carnival and sink her teeth into Hannah's pale neck, another part of her wanted the exact opposite. The vampire's struggle would've provided heart palpitations. If her heart still beat.
"Can't say I'm into daytime TV though," Deanna then commented. "I'm a late sleeper."
"Mmm." Hannah nodded. "Must be a really late sleeper... Those come on at like four in the afternoon!" she laughed. "But I guess you're not much of a sunshine person, then? Well, you are a redhead." She made a little sculpture of plate, cup, and napkin. "It's funny, that would make you the second person I've met this week that's not into the sun. Avery said he even goes sightseeing at night."
The redhead made a mental note, before the mental note swung back and struck her in the nose. Avery? Did she know an Avery? There was a vague memory of stealing a corpse from the morgue -- a gift to her (current? former?) enemy, Rhiannon -- and if she was right, the vamp she ran into had the same name. Again, the jumble of what came before she arrived clashed with what her host had experienced. Sometimes it was hard to tell what she'd personally lived and what she needed to remember to survive in this new world.
"I burn real easy." The dance with truth was fun, Deanna noted. Tell just enough to make a connection, but not enough to scare her away. "And I find that the best stuff happens after dark."
Hannah tilted her head. "You're kind of a bad girl, aren't you? Yeah. I think you are." She poked her tongue at the corner of her mouth. "Well, there's plenty of them here, especially during spring break. Skanks as far as the eye can see." She pantomimed it, putting her hand at eye level and scanning the crowd. A bracelet of tiny seashells dangled from her wrist. It didn't strike her until afterward how horrible that sounded.
"Not that--! Not that you're a skank!" Hannah slapped her palms on the table between them, fingers splayed. "There's a difference between bad girl and skank, mainly IQ and choice of leather pants versus bikini."
"I think," Deanna summarized after a moment's silence, "that's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all week."
A bad girl. Yes, that was the older woman. Leather pants, nothwithstanding of course. At least in this weather. Plus, they were so 10 years ago. "And what's your thought on bad girls, Hannah?" She resisted licking her lips.
"I dunno." She shrugged. "To each her own. I'm kind of a 'live and let live' person." Hannah reached back and gathered her hair into a loose ponytail. "Actually, I feel kinda bad for using a label like 'skank'. I mean, when I get stuck with labels, it pisses me off. It's always, you know," she looked at the roof of the tent, "Are you even out of high school? Yes, thanks, I'm twenty-two. And then those pervert guys who're into minors gawk at me. Gross, by the way. Or people think I'm naive or air-headed or super-inhibited, and then they read one of my books and it says 'penis' and they're shocked. I happen to be a cheerful, relatively well-behaved person, but it doesn't make me a half-wit or a prude."
The blonde's words had an impact, and brought no measure of small surprise to the vampire. "Ugh, I hear you," she grunted. "Some people judge you based on first impressions, even before you utter a word. And then you're locked in some... metaphoric battle with them that goes on literally for years and you're constantly attacking and defending based on what's supposed to be. And when you make the conscious decision to change your life for the better, and lend a hand when they need it most, you wonder if it's gonna be lost on them and things will go back to the way they were instead of forging a new path."
And that was Deanna's struggle in a nutshell. For over two hundred years, she'd been a predatory creature feasting on the night and warring with those who guarded against the darkness. Now, given the second chance and coupled with her desire for a soul, the vampire had a chance to become something more. But would Rhiannon -- would the whole freakin' world -- give her the opportunity?
"So what do we do about it?" The redhead's question was genuine.
Hannah's left eyebrow shot up. "Sounds kind of sexy."
So, Deanna was wondering if people would believe she was good, while plotting to tear out her companion's throat... Having no clue of the redhead's true inner struggle, Hannah could only rest a chin in her hand and ponder first impressions. "Well... I think that when people send mixed signals, or get all huffy and won't explain themselves, they have no right to get upset if they're misunderstood. It's on each of us to make sure we're giving off vibes people can read. Say what you mean, and," she gestured, "Walk the walk."
Wait, what? Hannah held her breath and thought it over again. "But... other people should also try to see our true intentions, and assume good will instead of automatically assuming the worst. Because usually it's just a matter of mixed-up communication." That was as close to swami as Hannah could get. "So, bottom line, everybody should just... spit it out, whatever's true, and ask questions instead of making dumb conjectures."
The redhead tilted her head backwards, and ran her fingers through long strands of hair. "Ugh, brain hurt."
So, bottom line according to the Gospel of Hannah: talk the talk, and walk the walk. No, that wasn't asking too much for a centuries-old vampire who used guile and words to get what she wanted. Pushing a boulder over a mountain-side? Much easier.
"I could use a drink," Deanna muttered, returning to view the blonde. "You wanna carry this forward over a bottle of wine? Guaranteed not to put you under the table as quickly as tequila."
"I like wine.... Alright," Hannah said agreeably. The carnival had lost her attention when the guy juggling knives threw in the towel. When she stood up and collected her trash, her right leg was numb from sitting on it. "Ack, pins and needles." She wobbled to a garbage can, tossed her stuff, and wiped her hands on her jeans. "C'mon, we can get out that way," she said. A finger pointed towards an opening at the tent, which people herded in and out of. It was a bit claustrophobic once they got away from the picnic tables. Hannah folded her arms. "By the way, where'd you say you moved from?"
The ambient noise was disastrous on the vampire's ears. It was getting hard to filter the various voices to focus on one. The sooner they were out of the tent, the better. "Chicago," Deanna offered, leaving out the piece of the puzzle that the city on this world wasn't the same one she'd recently come from. "Before that, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, London." The crowd at the entrance/exit was getting thicker by the second. An arm extended slightly to move people aside. "I think I have an affinity for the letter ell."
Oooh, London. One of Hannah's big dreams was to travel and Europe was on the list. "You should've gone to Key Largo," she said, shuffling her feet when a man hustled past her too quickly. "Only it's full of rich people in timeshares." As the crowd under the tent bottlenecked, she got onto her tiptoes and tried to see the hold-up ahead of them. "I like it down here. It's laid back, y'know? I used to live in Oklahoma, so when I first got here, I couldn't wait to see the-- Hey!"
A woman, impatient on her way to the portable outhouses, grabbed Hannah's arm to hold her in place and then shoved around her. The impact sent her bowling into Deanna. She put her hands on the redhead's arm, trying to keep them from falling and getting trampled. "Sorry!"
Oklahoma? That offered a lot of information about the blonde, Deanna reasoned. Small town girl, grew up in a (most-likely) repressed environment, escaped to a different climate to spread her wings. Deanna didn't have much time to ruminate further as Hannah crashed into her. As the girl spiralled into her, the older woman's arm swung around to steady both of them.
"Jesus! She better be about to piss herself," Hannah said. Only an emergency excused that kind of bulldozing. Someone was stepping on her shoe, keeping her from regaining her footing. She took her hands off Deanna's arm, but the contact was maintained because the vampire hung onto her. "I'm okay! You can let go--" Hannah broke off and watched a funny look come over her new friend.
A surge ran through her. Something that gnawed at the demon's core. So much stronger this time. Undenied, the redhead's eyes became yellow, ridges appeared and teeth presented. And the hunger. Dear gods, the want...
'Fuck the crowd. Throw the bitch onto the ground, straddle her. DRINK'.
No.
'Yes.'
No.
'It's who you are.'
No...
'Yes...'
NO. It's NOT. It CAN'T be.
Hannah's eyes widened. She opened her mouth and screamed, a high, piercing sound that overcame all the voices and music. She shrank away from Deanna and collided with a support pole for the tent. The solid metal and Deanna's grip kept her from going any farther.
Deanna forcibly let go of the girl and pushed her way through the crowd, propelled herself out of the tent. Drove herself forward, two steps, five, ten. Until she hit a nearby brick wall. She gulped for air. Fought like a sunovabitch for control. "I'm... more... than this. Please..."
'Turn around. Go back. Stop denying your nature.'
She bent over, prayed she'd throw up. Expel the darkness that gnawed in the pit of her stomach. "I'm not just... There's a person inside... that doesn't want this. Needs more." Strands of red hair stuck to her sweat-stained cheeks.
In a panic, Hannah looked around. Despite the close quarters, nobody else had seen the transformation coming over the redhead's face before she flew the coup, and they were all giving her that look, like, 'What the hell is your problem?' They pushed her closer to the exit. Searching for another way out, Hannah squeezed out of the crowd and pressed herself against the canvas wall of the tent. She got into a crouch. At the very bottom, there was space between the tent and the asphalt. She lifted it up and rolled on the scratchy asphalt, thankful this once for being small.
Once in the open air, she tucked her fists beneath her arms and tried to catch her breath. Hannah was very aware that she wasn't alone. There were people milling around. What if one of them grabbed her? Would it happen to them, too? She broke into a run. It was the wrong way, but at least it was away.
Slender, cold hands pressed against the concrete wall. Her body convulsed as two warring factions struggled for control. Deanna's mind raced. Images of past kills flashed behind her eyes. The lives she'd taken, some out of necessity but most out of plain greed. A loop of who the vampire was, what she was capable of.
It sickened her.
Such a foreign concept, and anathema to a demon. Disgust, because she did was she had been born into the world to be.
More water dripped down her face, stained her cheekbones. Tears?
Yes, tears.
How many times in her unlife had Deanna cried? When her first childe, Celine, died? At Vicky's rebirth? So few times. It all seemed so new to her.
The redhead crumpled onto the pavement, knees scraped and cut at the impact. She turned around, pressed her back against the wall. Legs came up to her chest, with arms wrapped around them, holding tight.