ONLY LIVING VAMPIRE IN CAPTIVITY! THE LOVELY! THE LETHAL! THE MOUTH-WATERING TEMPTRESS OF TRANSYLVANIA!
He flung his arms high and the audience erupted. As we clapped and cheered, several members of his black- shirted crew hurried into the arena. For the first time, I noticed that ropes were hanging down the canvas walls… three on my side of the enclosure and three (I assumed) on the opposite side.
Each of the ropes was picked up by a member of Stryker’s crew. I spotted Vivian in the arena with the center rope from our side. She and the others walked backward, pulling. The ropes came off the ground, lifted away from the canvas, and stretched taut to the place where they were secured on top of the enclosure.
Stryker swung his arms down. It was a signal.
Vivian and the others tugged their ropes.
“VALERIA!” Stryker cried out.
All around him, crackling and whapping, the sheets of canvas fell to the ground.
Stryker was standing atop a steel cage. Its roof and every side were made of thick bars like a jail. It was raised a couple of feet off the ground on cinder blocks. It seemed to have a floor of some kind—maybe wood over more bars. Whatever the floor was, it seemed to be covered by a foot-thick layer of dirt.
Near the center of the floor lay a simple, wooden casket. Its lid was shut.
I took my eyes away from the coffin for a moment and looked around. Every spectator seemed to be staring at it.
For a while, the only sound came from the wind blowing through the trees around Janks Field.
Hands on hips, Stryker gazed down through the bars.
The coffin lid flew off as if kicked. I flinched. So did people all around me. Most of the audience seemed to gasp. A few people let out startled squeals. The coffin lid flipped over a couple of times and hit the dirt floor. Dust drifted up and blew away.
Valeria sat up very slowly as if in a trance.
At first, I could only see her in profile. Then, very slowly, she turned her head away. She seemed to be studying the audience in the bleachers across from ours. While she did that, I studied the thick, black hair flowing down her back.
Slowly, her head turned to the front, then to our side.
All around me, people moaned and whispered.
Rusty was one of those who moaned.
To say that Valeria was gorgeous would be like calling Mount Rushmore a nice piece of sculpture. Rusty won our wager by a landslide. I would get my head shaved by Slim.
Valeria’s head turned toward the front again.
She sat motionless. The audience was dead silent.
She glided upward, rising to her feet with the elegance of a ballerina. Standing upright inside her casket, she must’ve been well over six feet tall. She spread her cape wide open like the wings of a bat and slowly began to turn.
When she turned toward us, I saw the outfit she was wearing beneath her cape: a top that looked like a bright red leather bra, a very short skirt of matching red leather, and red leather boots. The coffin blocked my view of the boots except for their very tops, which came up nearly to her knees.
All around me, people were murmuring. I heard Rusty say, “Holy shit.”
I might’ve said it, myself. I don’t know what I said, if anything. I only know that I gazed at Valeria, stunned.
Gazed at her amazing, beautiful face.
Gazed at her deep cleavage.
Gazed at the magnificent globes of her leather-encased breasts.
Gazed at her flat belly and the swell of her hips and her smooth, solid-looking thighs.
Then I saw her in profile. Then I saw only her back: the wide-spread cape and her thick, raven hair.
Completing her full turn, she lowered the cape and wrapped it around herself. As she walked toward the foot of her casket, I heard the jangle of spurs and glanced up at Stryker. He stood motionless on top of the cage, staring down at her.
She stepped out of the casket. The spurs were on her scarlet boots. She halted and stood motionless, staring straight ahead.
Stryker raised the microphone to his mouth. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, VALERIA HAS BEEN ENCLOSED IN HER COFFIN SINCE OUR LAST PERFORMANCE SEVERAL NIGHTS AGO.” He paused for a few moments, then said, “AND SHE IS HUNGRY.”
Murmurs swept through the audience.
Lee glanced at me and grinned.
“SHE IS HUNGRY FOR BLOOD.”
Laughter, cheers and applause.
Stryker raised his arms, signalling for silence.
When the audience settled down, he announced, “THE TRAVELING VAMPIRE SHOW IS MORE THAN A PERFORMANCE BROUGHT HERE FOR YOUR EDIFICATION AND ENTERTAINMENT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. IT IS ALSO OUR METHOD OF SUSTAINING VALERIA’S EXISTENCE.
“BEFORE BEING TAKEN INTO CAPTIVITY, SHE ROAMED THE NIGHT AND SUPPED AT RANDOM, DRAINING HER PREY OF THEIR BLOOD—TAKING THEIR LIVES. SHE NO LONGER KILLS. NOW, IN THE COURSE OF EACH PERFORMANCE, SHE GAINS HER NOURISHMENT NOT FROM ONE SOURCE BUT FROM SEVERAL… MEMBERS OF THE
The people in the stands went wild with cheers, applause, whoops and whistles.
When the noise subsided, Stryker continued. “WE MAKE A CONTEST OUT OF IT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. A CONTEST OF STRENGTH, COURAGE AND ENDURANCE. AUDIENCE MEMBERS MAY VOLUNTEER TO ENTER THE CAGE OF VALERIA. ONE AT A TIME, OF COURSE. AND ONE AT A TIME, SHE WILL DRINK THEIR BLOOD… OR PERHAPS NOT. THOUGH SHE POSSESSES UNCOMMON STRENGTH AND AGILITY, HER CHALLENGERS FROM THE AUDIENCE ARE SOMETIMES ABLE TO RESIST HER.
“RESIST HER FOR A PERIOD OF FIVE MINUTES… PREVENT HER FROM DRINKING SO MUCH AS A SINGLE DROP OF YOUR BLOOD DURING A BOUT OF FIVE BRIEF MINUTES… AND YOU WILL WIN THE SUM OF FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS. THAT’S FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS CASH MONEY, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN-HALF A THOUSAND DOLLARS.”
Someone in the grandstands on the other side of the arena called out, “You mean we gotta
“ONLY IF YOU VOLUNTEER, SIR. BUT THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I MEAN. VALERIA IS VERY HUNGRY. SHE’LL WANT THE BLOOD OF ANYONE WHO STEPS INTO THE CAGE WITH HER—SHE’LL WANT IT BADLY. WHOEVER TAKES HER ON WILL HAVE A DESPERATE FIGHT ON HIS HANDS. OR ON HER HANDS. WOMEN ARE WELCOME… EVEN ENCOURAGED… TO CHALLENGE VALERIA.” He chuckled in a way that sounded very phony, then said into his microphone, “FIVE HUNDRED BUCKS WILL BUY A LOT OF GROCERIES, WON’T IT, LADIES?”
Another audience member, a woman this time, yelled, “Ain’t enough groceries to die for!”
“VALERIA’S CHALLENGERS RARELY DIE, MA’AM. SHE KNOWS WHEN TO STOP. HAVING YOUR BLOOD SUCKED BY VALERIA IS NO MORE DANGEROUS THAN DONATING A PINT TO THE RED CROSS… BUT MUCH MORE PLEASURABLE.”
Laughter and murmurs came from the crowd. A man shouted, “All
“BEFORE I ASK FOR VOLUNTEERS,” Julian continued, “I MUST WARN YOU THAT THOSE WHO CHALLENGE VALERIA DO RUN A RISK OF INJURY. OVER THE YEARS, A FEW HAVE EVEN SUCCOMBED TO THEIR INJURIES.”
Lee leaned toward me and I felt her upper arm against mine as she said in a quiet voice, “They died.”
I nodded.
