'He's better,' she said in a tiny, frightened voice. 'I don't understand, and I almost daren't believe it, but he's so much better!'
'Yes,' said Carmine, with a certain satisfaction. 'Ten thousand, then?'
'Ten thousand,' Penny repeated. 'Oh, God, yes .'
She came to the house four more times. On each occasion the routine was the same: coffee first, then the walk upstairs leaving Penny nervously pacing, then the bathroom, then goodbye. Once she did accept a glass of Burgundy after her visit to the bedroom, but that was all. As yet she had asked for no payment, and when Penny tentatively raised the subject she only shook her head and said that she preferred to take her fee on completion. Either she was trusting, Penny decided, or her clients would be too frightened to try to renege on the agreement.
At Carmine's insistence, David knew nothing of what was going on. Though his health was rapidly improving he still slept a great deal, so the visits were timed accordingly. Penny eased her conscience by telling herself that, had he been consulted, David would have gladly chosen anything as an alternative to death.
Then one evening, as they sipped their ritual coffee, Carmine said that tonight's visit would be her last.
Penny's hand and cup stopped midway to her mouth. 'Why? What's wrong?'
'Nothing's wrong.' Carmine set her own cup down. 'It's simply that the initial stage of the cure is complete. It's time for the second and final stage.'
She was gazing steadily at Penny, and with an inner curling sensation Penny realized that she had not prepared herself for this. Carmine had explained — or tried to — the nature and the consequences of what would eventually happen to David. The way he would live. The way he would eat. The heightened energy; the fact that he would not age but remain as he was for well, in theory for ever. Penny had pretended to listen, but in fact Carmine's words had flowed through her and past her without taking hold in her mind. She hadn't wanted to know the details; all that had mattered to her was that David was slowly but surely gaining his life back.
Now, though, the reality of the situation hit her with a jolt that made her feel sick. Tonight, if Carmine had her way, David would become what she was. A vampire. Penny believed in vampires now. Carmine claimed to be such a creature, and in the light of the miracle that had been wrought, how could she doubt anything that Carmine said?
Vampire . 'I' Then, finding the pronoun utterly pointless, she fell silent. Carmine did not drink any more coffee; she merely waited, and at last Penny found a semblance of a question.
'What will you do?'
'What I've done before.' Carmine's voice was quiet, soothing; irrationally, the tone of it reassured. 'But to a greater degree. I'd rather not tell you the details; they might upset you, and there are some things that we find uncomfortable to expose to those who aren't of our kind.'
David. Vampire . 'Will you hurt him?'
'Not at all. I guarantee it.'
My husband . Then Penny faced the question she really wanted to ask; the only one that mattered. 'Will he die ?'
She thought Carmine might fudge that one, possibly out of delicacy or kindness, or for more obscure reasons. She didn't. She said, as casually as if referring to the workings of a car engine, 'Technically, yes. He'll be out — that is, not breathing — for something like twelve hours; then he'll wake and' She spread her hands. 'That's it.'
It. My husband, undead. A vampire
'Oh, one warning,' Carmine added. 'Twelve hours is a long time to wait; it'll probably feel more like twelve days to you. You could easily panic and think that something's gone wrong, but you must not be tempted to act on that fear. If you call a doctor, an ambulance, anything like that, the consequences will be disastrous, and I am not exaggerating.' One hand, resting on the arm of her chair, clenched, as though an unpleasant memory had risen. 'Imagine it, Penny. A dead man who suddenly and inexplicably returns to life. Believe me, you do not want to condemn David, and yourself, to facing the results of that!'
Penny nodded. She was feeling worse with every moment, and suddenly she found herself on the verge of changing her mind, ordering Carmine out of the house as she had done at their first encounter.
'I'm afraid,' Carmine said softly, 'that it's a little late for that.'
Penny stared. 'How do you'
'Know what you're thinking? Don't worry, I'm not telepathic. It's simply all there in your face; cold feet, the last-minute doubts; it's always the same. But you can't turn back. He's already too far down the line, and if it stops now, he'll die sooner and more unkindly than he would have done if this had never begun.' She stood up. 'So, with your permission'
Penny's face was a frozen sculpture. She nodded, once, barely perceptibly, and Carmine silently left the room.
She was gone longer than usual, and when she returned Penny had not been pacing but still sat motionless in her chair.
'Twelve hours,' Carmine said. Her cheeks were flushed and there was an excited, faintly feverish look in her eyes. 'For his sake and yours, please remember what I said and don't panic.'
Penny didn't look at her but fumbled for her handbag on the floor near her feet. 'I'd better' She swallowed. The car was sold, the money was in the bank. She wanted rid of it. 'Will you take a cheque?'
'Of course.' While Penny wrote, her hand shaking, Carmine put her coat on. 'Thank you,' she said. The cheque disappeared into a small black leather wallet. 'Oh, and if you need me again, just phone. It's inclusive; no extra charge.'
'Need you?' Penny demanded sharply. 'For what?'
'Well you may already have worked out how to do it, in which case there's no problem,' said Carmine. 'But if you haven't' Her shoulders lifted in an eloquent but slightly self-effacing way. 'You might want some help when you have to break the news of what we've done to David.'
