The Stake

“Yeah. Everything that...” She pressed her lips together. Her chin began to tremble and tears glimmered in her eyes.

Larry’s throat suddenly tightened. “I’m sorry, honey.”

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. “Why do things... have to get so fouled up?”

“I don’t know. It’s life, I guess.”

“Life’s a bitch, then you die.”

“Don’t say that, honey,” he whispered. “Everything will turn out fine.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Jim isn’t the only guy in the world. Just wait and see. You’ll run into some fellow, one of these days, and fall head over heels for him.”

“Good way to break your back,” she muttered against the side of his neck. Relaxing her hold, she kissed his cheek. “Anyway, thanks.” She stepped back and wiped her eyes on a sleeve of her sweater.

“You’ll feel better in the morning,” he told her.

“At least until I wake up.”

Larry stretched out between the sheets of his bed. They were cool and felt good.

“Lane back?” Jean asked in a husky voice.

“Yep.”

She sighed, and seemed to fall asleep again. Larry listened to her deep, slow breathing. Soon, he heard the distant windy sound of the shower.

He wondered if Lane would go right to bed when she was done.

You don’t need to look at those pictures again, he told himself. Go to sleep and forget it.

What if Lane caught you looking at them? A girl her own age. A dead girl, to boot. She’d think you’re no better than Jim. Worse. Guys are such pigs. Including Dad.

Just explain you’re writing a book about her. She was murdered, and tomorrow...

Tomorrow.

Larry had struggled, ever since lunch, to push that out of his mind. Whenever he thought about returning to Sagebrush Flat, a sick hot feeling swept through him. It came now. He kicked free of the top sheet and blanket.

Call it off?

What do you tell Pete? Sorry, I changed my mind. Right.

We’ve got to go through with it.

What if we find Uriah?

We won’t. We were there twice before, and he didn’t put in an appearance.

Maybe he just happened to be away the other times. Taking a stroll in the desert. Killing coyotes.

Or right there, hidden, watching us.

Terrific.

Now I’ll never get to sleep, he thought.

Think about something pleasant. Think about Bonnie.

No! I’ve got to stop thinking about Bonnie. It’s crazy. It’s wrong.

He heard the shower go silent.

Lane was done. Give her fifteen minutes, he thought, to make sure she’s asleep. Then it’ll be safe to take out the pictures.

Might as well, if I can’t sleep anyway.

No.

Besides, what’s the point? She’s dead. She won’t come back.

She might. When I pull the stake.

Bullshit,

But what if she does?

She won’t. There’s no such thing as vampires.

* * *

“Pull it and find out,” Bonnie said, her voice soft and teasing in his mind.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he told her.

“Very much.”

“I suppose it can be arranged.” He straddled the coffin and smiled down at her.

It was confusing. He hadn’t pulled the stake yet, but she was already alive, naked and beautiful and talking to him.

“How come you’re already alive?” he asked.

She gave him a playful smile. “Vampire magic.”

“So you area vampire?”

“Never said I wasn’t.”

“I don’t know.”

“You want me, don’t you?” Her hand reached up from inside the coffin and stroked him.

“It’s not as simple as that, Bonnie.”

“You want me, don’t you?”

“But if you really are a vampire...”

Bonnie lifted her legs, spread them apart, and hooked her knees over the sides of the coffin. “You dowant me,” she said.

“I know, but...”

“And I want you.” Her hands went to her breasts, caressed them, squeezed them. “Take out the stake, and I’ll be yours.”

He didn’t want to pull the stake. He ached for her, but she had as good as admitted that she was a vampire. If he freed her, what would she do?

“I won’t feed on you or your family,” she told him, as if reading his mind.

“How do I know that?”

“Trust me. Pull it.” Then her head lifted. It came up off the bottom of the coffin. As she writhed and massaged her breasts, her neck grew longer. Slender and white and curving forward. It lowered her head toward the jutting stake. Her tongue slid out, long and pink, dripping, and curled around the wooden shaft. Slid down to where the wood entered her chest. Cheek resting against the smooth skin above her breasts, she looked up at Larry and smiled. “Pull it,” she urged him, somehow able to talk in spite of her extended tongue.

Larry watched, breathless, his heart slamming.

Bonnie’s tongue, wrapped around the shaft, wound its way to the top. Her head followed. She drew in her tongue. And then she stretched her lips wide and lowered her mouth over the blunt end of the stake. She sucked on it.

She’s going to suck it right out of her, Larry thought.

It’s okay if shedoes it. As long as I’m not the one...

“Cop out!” A stranger’s voice.

Bonnie’s head jerked up, fluid spilling down her chin, her eyes furious. With her long neck, she reminded Larry of a cobra rising to the tune of a snake charmer. Her head swiveled toward the sound of the voice.

Larry looked, too.

The stranger wore the dark robe of a monk. Its hood hung low, hiding his face.

“Uriah?” Larry asked.

“Do not be deceived by the evil one,” the stranger said.

“Kill him, Larry,” Bonnie said, her voice low and calm, coaxing. “That’s Uriah, all right. He’s the one who did this to me.”

“Get thee back to Hell, demon!”

“He’s a madman,” Bonnie said. Her voice sounded farther away. And different. There was nothing sly or seductive about it. She sounded very much like Lane. Larry felt his chest tighten. “He murderedme. And it hurt. It hurt so much.”

Larry looked away from the stranger.