The Want Ads

Sheri chewed on the end of the pen and studied what she’d written so far.

Wanted: One Vampire
Must be tall, dark and handsome
with a widow’s peak and real fangs.
Call Sheri at 555-0782.

She didn’t want to say too much or the newspaper might not run it, but she had to give the basics. But how much? That was the question. Maybe she was being too picky to ask for a widow’s peak, but didn’t all vampires have one? Not having met any, or at least, unaware that she had, she didn’t really know. But would popular culture show them that way if they didn’t?

She shrugged. Why not ask for what she wanted? If she had to, she could always amend it.

The door to the office opened, and her boss entered. Trying to look nonchalant, she squirreled it away in her desk. Her boss, Mr. Whitly, was inveterately nosy. If he suspected she’d done anything remotely personal while working the front desk, he’d snoop through her drawers when she took her break. She grimaced, remembering the time she’d caught him looking through the bottom drawer where she kept her purse. He’d claimed to be looking for a pencil, but they both knew the truth. He’d been rummaging through her purse. Now, any time she left her desk unattended for more than a few minutes, she locked it and took the key with her.

“Any calls for me while I was at lunch, Ms. Loveless?” He squinted at her, his rheumy blue eyes studying her over the top of his thick glasses.

“A few. Here they are.” She handed the messages to him, doing her best not to come in contact with his skin. Even though he could reach them in the circular bin at the front of her desk, he always wanted her to hand them to him. Probably hoping our hands will ‘accidentally’ touch.

If ever there were a depiction of a dirty, old man, Mr. Whitly would be it. Sheri tried to contain the shudder that threatened to overcome her when he leered at her. At thirty-one, she’d maintained her virginity. Not that she’d planned to keep it, but it seemed that she was doomed to work for men like her boss. Old, slightly oily, gray hair and age spots. She’d rather sleep with a corpse. And being rather shy, she found it difficult to meet eligible young men her age.

At least he’s too old to try anything. She snorted. Old didn’t mean harmless. Her last boss used to brush against her every chance he got. It made her skin crawl just thinking about it.

She watched him wobble down the hall and enter his office before she pulled the sheet of paper out of her desk drawer. In big block letters, she added another word to her requirements: YOUNG.

With a satisfied smile, she put the paper back in the drawer and waited. Every afternoon at 1:05 p.m., he would call after settling into his big, comfortable leather chair to tell her to “hold all calls because he had important business to attend.” Her second day working there, she’d discovered the “important business” was really a nap. She’d knocked on his door. When he didn’t answer, she thought something was wrong and entered, concerned. As loud as he was, he must have been sawing away at an entire forest. His room and door had to be sound proof because she didn’t know how no one heard him. Or maybe they did, but didn’t let on they knew.

The phone rang. Sheri glanced at the clock. The numbers 105 stared back at her.

Smirking, she picked up the phone. “Whitly, Moore and Douglas, this is Sheri. How may I direct your call?”

“Oh, Ms. Loveless, this is Mr. Whitly. Please hold all my calls until 2:30. I have some important business to take care of.”

She swallowed hard, trying to contain her glee. “Yes, sir.”

“Oh, and Ms. Loveless, that is a lovely shade of pink you are wearing today.”

“Why, uh, thank you, sir.” He’d never complimented her before. What was he up to? It didn’t matter. If all went according to plan, in a few weeks, nothing would. “Will that be all, sir?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes, that’s all.”

A few minutes later, she was dialing the small local newspapers’ classified ads section. A harried, female voice answered, “Santa Monica Star. Can I help you?”

Now that the time had come, Sheri hesitated.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.” She twirled the phone cord before continuing, “I, uh, wanted to place an ad.”

“Is it a personal ad or classified?” The voice didn’t get any friendlier.

“It’s a help wanted ad.”

“All right then. What do you want it to say?”

“Well…” Sheri paused. No matter how she put it, it was still going to sound weird. “How many words do I get?” She stalled.

The woman on the other end sighed. “It depends on how much you want to spend. The cheapest is $10 for two weeks for 50 characters or less. The next is $16 for two weeks for 100 characters or less. Then we have…”

“I’ll take the second,” Sheri interrupted. She’d been counting the letters and knew she had more than fifty, especially if she wanted to include the word “young” and that was a necessity.

“Okay. What would you like it to say? Oh, and so you know, it won’t be included in this week’s paper. It’s already too late for that.” The woman sounded bored.

“That’s fine.” She glanced down toward Mr. Whitly’s office. Nothing stirred. “Okay, this is what I want.” In hushed tones, Sheri read her ad to the woman. “And does it cost more to put young in caps?”

“No, but are you sure this is what you want? Being so close to Halloween, you’ll end up with a lot of weirdoes.”

“I know, but I’m prepared.” An image of the handgun she kept in the drawer next to her bed came to mind. Her mother had given it to her as a gift on her 30th birthday with a certificate for lessons on how to handle it. She could hear her mother’s voice as she opened her present, “Since you seem intent on staying single, I figured you might as well have some way to protect yourself.” She never thought she’d have a use for it, but it would come in handy now.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The woman’s voice had definitely soured. “So, how would you like to pay for this?”

“Do you take credit cards?”

“Of course.”

Sheri grabbed her purse from the bottom drawer, glanced down the hallway again then pulled her credit card out.

“Visa or MasterCard?” The woman droned.

“Visa. The number is 324761921467080002. Expiration date April 2004.”

“And the name on the card.”

“Oh, uh, Sherilyn H. Loveless. That’s s-h-e-r-i-l-y-n.”

“All right, Sherilyn, the ad will go up next week.”

“Thank you.”

“You won’t be thanking me when you get all those phone calls.”

The woman hung up, and Sheri sighed in relief. She’d expected more resistance, but in the Los Angeles area, people didn’t seem to care much about others. If it didn’t affect them, it wasn’t their business. That was fine with her, but how was she going to wait a week?
The week dragged by, just as Sheri feared it would. Her boss was acting stranger and stranger. Every day during the 1:05 call, he would compliment her. Then finally, on Thursday, he made a pass at her. What was it about her that made old men think she would be interested in them? Just because she was mousy and a little on the plump side did they think she would welcome their advances? Did they think she didn’t have standards?

“I may be single and a spinster, but dating my grandfather does not appeal to me,” she muttered as she entered her apartment. If she had another job to go to, she’d turn in her notice. But come Halloween, it wouldn’t matter anyway. The sooner she checked her messages, the better. Hopefully, someone would have responded to her ad today.

She eagerly rushed over to her phone. No messages. Not one. It had only been a day. The first day.  That was it. It would take time.

The following day, she returned to her apartment. She pressed the button.

The disembodied voice on the machine said, “You have three messages. First message saved on Friday, October 18th at 4:30 p.m.”

“Hi Sheri, it’s your mother. How are you, dear? I haven’t heard from you in a while. I was just checking to see how things were going. Well, call me when you get home.”

Beep!

“Saved on Friday, October 18th at 4:54 p.m.”

A dark sexy voice with a slight Transylvanian came on. “Hi Sheri, this is Damien. I am calling in answer to your ad. I fit all of your requirements. Call me. 555-1432.”

Sheri giggled. She liked the voice, but that accent sounded a bit contrived. Still, she jotted the number down.

Beep!

“Saved on Friday, October 18th at 5:02 p.m.”

“Sheri, it’s Mr. Whitly. Have you thought about my offer? I…”

She turned the machine off. She didn’t want to listen to the rest of his message. How difficult was “no” to understand? With a sigh, she looked at the one number. Only one. How hard could it be to find a vampire? My God, there had to be more than one. And not just from Transylvania. Well, she’d call. What did she have to lose?

Her hands shook as she dialed the number.

The phone rang three times before he answered, “Hello.”

It was the same dark sexy voice, minus the accent. “Damien?”

“This is.”

“This is Sheri.”

There was a cough on the other end. “Oh, I see.”

She nearly snorted aloud. The accent appeared again. Yeah, this was some vampire. Well, she wondered how long he would play along before he discovered she’d caught him. “Are you really a vampire?”

“Of course.” The accent grew thicker.

“Well, I’d like to meet you before I tell you what I need. Could we arrange that?”

“Sure.”

“I was wondering maybe we could meet tomorrow for lunch.” Would he take the bait?

“Where?”

“In broad daylight.”

“Yes, but where?” he asked. His accent was so thick she almost didn’t understand him now.

“How about on Third Street Promenade on the corner of Third and Broadway?” She held her breath.

“All right,” he replied.

“Just one thing. How will I know it’s you?”

“I will be dressed all in black.”

She nodded her head, covering her mouth lest the laughter erupt. “Really? Will you be ash too?”

“I do not understand. Are you making fun of me?” Outrage filled his voice.

“Well, everything I know about vampires says that you can’t stand the sun. It will disintegrate you. Am I wrong?”

He sputtered. The accent fell away. “Why you…”

Sheri hung up on after the first expletive. His voice had sounded promising, but after she’d written the message down and started to dial, she began to question his authenticity. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? Wouldn’t a vampire call her at night after the sun went down?

Two days. It’s only been two days. Have patience, Sheri.

As the days passed, the same thing happened again and again. Her boss grew bolder and the messages were no longer funny. She began to despair. Maybe vampires were really just a myth; maybe she didn’t need a real vampire; maybe all she needed was just a psycho. No. No. She wouldn’t settle, only a real vampire would do. If she couldn’t find one, then she’d have to do it herself. Another week of her boss’s passes, and she wouldn’t find it so distasteful or frightening anymore.

Two nights before Halloween, Sheri sat by her phone, praying for it to ring. Her boss had actually fondled her that day. Even though she’d slapped his hand away, he just laughed and told her not to be coy. She knew from experience that if she tried to press a sexual harassment suit, no one would believe her. Evidently, he knew it too. The old geezer. That phone call would be her salvation. Oh, please let it ring!

For two hours, she stared at the phone. When nothing happened by nine o’clock, she turned away, despondent, and prepared for bed.

The phone rang right as she closed her eyes. Groping for the phone in the dark, she answered, expecting her mother.

“Sheri?” A soft, cultured voice asked.

She sat up. “Yes.” Her heart pounded like a galloping horse.

“You know, you are asking for trouble by placing that ad.” The voice caressed her like soft water against naked skin. She shivered.

“I know what I’m doing.” Her voice trembled.

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think you do.” There was a moment of silence. She thought he’d hung up, but his voice shimmered in the darkness when he spoke again. “I have been watching you.”

“How… how do you know where I am?” She gulped. This had seemed like such a good idea. Was it?

“At night, we sit outside your apartment and wait. Will you invite me in?”
“I…” She faltered. This was beginning to frighten her. Did she really want this? Sheri thought about her life: the lonely nights, the groping boss, her mother’s snide comments. Yes, it was what she wanted. “No, not yet. I would like to meet you first. If you meet my standards, then I have a proposition for you.”

“I know what you want, Sheri Loveless. Look out your window.”

Hesitantly, she got out of bed. Leaving the light off, she moved to the window and parted the blinds. She didn’t see anything.

“Let me move into the light.”

A tall, lean figure appeared. She couldn’t make out his features, but his pale skin stood out in stark contrast to his ebony hair. “I… I see you.”

“Look into the shadows. Trust your instincts. What do you see?”

At his command, she looked. A dozen figures appeared that had not been there previously. “Who are they?”

“Other vampires. You are safe as long as you stay in your apartment. Do not come out at night.”

“I… I won’t. But how can I meet you then? My proposition is more than you think.” A strange calmness overcame her as her plan began to come to fruition.

“Invite me in.”

His voice was seductive. She wanted to, but… “How can I trust you?”

He laughed. “You want to die, right?”

“There is more. I want more than that. And not until Halloween. If I invite you in tonight, will you promise to wait until Halloween to kill me?”

“What is a day or two? Of course.”

“I wish to hear you promise,” she insisted.

“Ah, you do not trust me.”

“Do you blame me?” She really wanted to invite him in, but her plan had to be followed. She didn’t know why, but she could not falter. And somehow, she sensed if he promised, he would abide by it.

“Then I promise.”

“What do you promise?”

“Ah, you are too shrewd.” He chuckled. “It’s a pity you wish to die. You are much more interesting than most of the people who don’t.”

“Quit playing games.” His evasion was beginning to irritate her. “Either you promise or you don’t.”

“Quite. Then I promise to wait to kill you until Halloween.”

“Your name. I would like to invite you in by your name,” she said.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“You may call me Matthew,” he whispered.

“Matthew, would you like to come in?”

The words barely left her mouth when he disappeared. She gasped and jumped when she felt a cold hand on her shoulder. Spinning, she stared up into a face so beautiful he could only be a fallen angel.

“My God.”

A half smile teased his lips. “I meet your requirements?”

She nodded. The widow’s peak, the height, the piercing black eyes, the high cheekbones, the sensual full lips, the youth. He far surpassed her requirements.

“What else do you want, Miss Loveless?”

“I want to die in the throws of passion.  You may have my blood, but only if you make love to me first. Can you do that?”

“Why?” His gaze searched hers.

“I am not a beautiful woman, Matthew. I want to experience passion when I die.”

He reached out and slid his fingers through her long, brown hair. Longing filled her. She trembled at his touch.

“How can you say you are not beautiful?” He grabbed her hand and gently tugged. “Come.” Pulling her over to her vanity mirror, he turned the lights on low. She stared at the reflection; the space where he stood next to her was empty. “Don’t try to see me. Look at you.”

She did as he bade.

“You have fine blue eyes, petal soft, healthy skin, and an ample body. What man wouldn’t want you?” he asked softly.

She turned away from her reflection to stare at him. “No man of my acquaintance besides those over 75. I am not what men want, Matthew. I am tired of being alone, unloved and harassed. I would rather die than continue this life.” Her gaze searched his. “Will you help me?”

“If I can. Tell me more about yourself.”

They talked until 4 a.m. At that time, he left, explaining his aversion to the sun and making her promise not to invite any of the other vampires in. “They would not be so honorable.”

Before he left, she asked him, “And why are you?”

“I was not always a vampire, Miss Loveless” was his cryptic reply.

“Will you come tonight?” She tried to sound apathetic, but she couldn’t keep the hope out of her voice.

“Do not romanticize me. I am no better than a parasite, a blight on the earth.”

“No, Matthew. You are my salvation.”

He shook his head but did not argue with her. “I will see you tonight.”

He vanished before she could ask when.

She slept little after he left. Her mind churned with questions. How old was he? What had his life been like before? Why had he called and not any of the others? Would he really come?

Somewhere between five and six in the morning, her fatigued body caught up with her, and she slept. A scant hour later, the alarm rang. Groggy, she shut it off. She considered calling in sick, but the day would drag if she stayed home.

It was particularly busy at work, and the day passed in a blur. She didn’t remember taking messages, answering the phone, or even eating. All of her attention was focused on the time Matthew would return. As five o’clock crept near, she struggled to stay awake. When Mr. Whitly slapped her on the butt before she left, she snapped.

Grabbing his hand, she told him, “Keep your filthy hands to yourself, sir. If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll report you to the authorities.”

His expression registered his surprise. He nodded, making Sheri smile grimly. Maybe that was all she’d needed to do to stop the harassment. At least her last day on earth would be free of his groping hands.

Matthew was waiting for her after her shower. He sat in the chair by the window, staring out into the night. He didn't turn when she entered the room.
Relief washed over her. Part of her had feared that he wouldn't come, that last night had been a dream she'd created in her despair. But, now, seeing him sitting there so quietly, she felt fortunate that he had responded to her ad, that he would be her one and only experience of physical love, and not some other creature of the night. As she watched him silently, something stirred; something she had never expected to feel. Gratitude washed over her.
"You came."
He turned to face her. His gaze swept over her, lingering. "I said I would."
She shifted uncomfortably, pulling the towel a little tighter around her body. "Yes, well, promises do not always mean much in this day and age."
"And yet you trusted me last night," he said.
"Yes, but this morning, I wasn't sure if last night was real or just wishful thinking." She looked away, embarrassed. She needed to put some clothes on. "I wasn't expecting you so early. If you don't mind, I'll just get some clothes..."
The smile that lit his face set her pulse racing. It was a seductive smile. Accustomed to leers, she blinked back tears. Either he found her attractive or he was a very good actor. She hoped it was the first.
"Do you need my help?"
"Uh, no." She stepped back toward her dresser and turned, staring blindly at the art-covered wall. It took a few seconds before she brought her thoughts back into order. Underwear, nightgown, bathrobe. Think, Sheri.
"Are you sure?"
"Quite," she squeaked. In a hurry now, she grabbed the first thing in front of her and retreated into the bathroom.
She set them down on the counter, gasped, shaking her head, and started laughing nervously. Her regular underwear and nightgown were in the dirty clothes hamper. Although she'd known he'd come tonight, she'd forgotten to do the wash. If she wasn't going to live past tomorrow night, what was the point, right? Or so she'd thought. Now, she realized her mistake. She'd been saving these for tomorrow. Well, too late. I'll look like a fool if I go out there still in my towel. Quieting the internal protests, she picked up the sheer pink underwear and pulled them on. She fingered the delicate embroidery on the matching nightgown, knowing that she was just stalling her entrance. With a defiant toss of her head, she donned the rest of the outfit. Sheer over sheer. The soft fabric floated around her, caressing her skin, making her shiver with anticipation and trepidation. She looked at herself in the mirror, doubt gnawing at her. Three layers of sheer fabric did not completely hide her figure. Glimpses of skin could be seen if she moved just so. She felt a little ashamed of the excitement that battled with the fear, but not enough to stop her from facing him. This was the true test of whether he spoke with veracity. How would he react to her attire? Would he find her beautiful?
Taking a deep breath to calm the quivering, she opened the door, shut the lights off and hesitated, momentarily blinded by the darkness. He'd turned the lights off and replaced them with candles, bathing the room with an intimate glow. Her eyes searched for his figure in the soft candlelight.
"You tempt me, beautiful Sheri," his husky voice whispered in her ear.
The feel of his breath on her neck sent shivers careening down her spine. She turned to face him, leaning into him. "I... I need to do wash." The comment sounded inane to her, but he didn't seem to notice.
Instead, he pushed her away gently. "If I am to keep my promise, I cannot touch you like this. The smell of your sweet blood pulsing in your veins tempts me so." His gaze strayed down her figure. The stark hunger in his eyes frightened her, reminding her that he was a vampire and not just her dream man. "And your body..." he sighed. "It has been many years since I've had the pleasure of seeing such curves. You are a rare beauty, Sheri." He touched her face with one finger before retreating to the other side of the room, sitting in the chair by the window again. Keeping his face turned from her, he spoke softly, his voice sounding rough, "I must be honest with you. I will need to drink some of your blood tomorrow night before I can keep my promise." He looked at her, his eyes glowing blood red briefly before fading back to obsidian. "I promise that you will feel ecstasy far beyond anything you have ever known."
"I trust you."
He laughed harshly. "You are a fool to trust me, Sheri. I only give you what you want because I will get what I want in the end."
"It's what I want too. Remember, I am the one who went looking for you."
He didn't respond, but only looked at her pensively.
"It's my turn to ask questions, Matthew. Tell me about you. How did you become a vampire? Who were you before it happened?" She moved over to the bed and sat down, curling her legs up underneath her.
"Why do you care?" he asked harshly.
"Because I want to know you..."
"Because you want to love me," he retorted.
"No, because I want to know you," she denied even while knowing he spoke the truth.
"It's not a pretty tale, Sheri."
"Tell it to me. Help the night pass quickly," she pleaded. "When were you born?"
He laughed. "Halloween in 1801."
"Where?"
"In the dens of iniquity of New York. I was a bastard to one of the famous madams of the time. Her name was Sally Brennan. She has long since been forgotten." He turned away from her, his voice barely audible over the velvety silence that enveloped them. "She had such high hopes for me. While she would never be accepted into polite society, she thought she could mold me into something the nobs would accept. She invested and did well. My mother was a shrewd woman when it came to money. But about people?" A rueful chuckle escaped him. "I knew when I was very young that they would never accept us, but I never told her. I let her keep her illusion. No matter how wealthy we became, we would always be outcasts."
"What happened to your mother?" He painted such a grim picture. It seemed incredibly sad to her, but she knew the prejudices of people. She'd experienced them all of her life.
"She died young, maybe forty-three." He laughed, this time bitterly. "Ironically, the upper class did forget about my origins... when they wanted their daughters to marry me for my money, of course. But by then, after the way they treated my mother, my view of them was jaundiced. I did not care to become a member or be accepted. I was a confirmed bachelor and very happy to be one."
"Did you choose to become a vampire?" She'd watched Interview with a Vampire. It was one of her favorite movies. That, and the old 80s movie Love at First Bite, although none of the actors' looks compared to Matthew's.
"No. It was an accident. After my mother's death, my life spiraled into gambling and carousing. I was no stranger to whore houses, Sheri. I knew the ones to frequent and the ones to avoid. Those in the business knew. But one night, I no longer cared. That's the night I met Josephine. She was new to vampirism. I was to be her first kill. Instead, she welcomed me to the vampire ranks that night, much to her chagrin... and mine." He faced her. "I wish she had killed me."
"I'm glad she didn't." She reached for him.
"Don't." He stood. "I think it's better if I leave early tonight. Will you be wearing this tomorrow?"
She'd forgotten about her scanty attire. Self-conscious, she crossed her arms over her bosom. "Yes."
"Good." He leaned down, and she thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he whispered, "Tomorrow."
He vanished before she could reply. She sat, staring into the night, dreaming of tomorrow. The first tendrils of the morning sun were spreading across the sky when sleep finally wrapped her in its embrace.
* * *
Halloween. The night of the dead. The night she would die. She waited for him in the chair by the window in her diaphanous pink negligee, her gaze searching the mist that swirled in silent eddies outside. Ten o'clock passed, and still she waited. He had promised he would come, but doubt assailed her. Life was a neverending cycle of disappointments. She had thought this time would be different, but had she foolishly set herself up for one last one?
A slight prick on her neck startled her then she felt his mouth settle tighter on her throat. A tingling began in the tips of her fingers and toes pouring up into her heart and neck as the blood flowed into him. She sighed with pleasure. It was him. His silky, black hair brushed softly against her cheek. She shivered and leaned into his deadly embrace, trustingly.
He pulled away. She reached for him, wanting that feeling to continue.
"No, my beautiful Sheri, I must stop now or I will not stop. Your blood is so sweet, like none I have ever tasted." He drew her into his embrace. "Let me show you the passion you seek."
His lips covered hers. She could taste the faint metallic taste of her blood on his lips. But it didn't scare her. There was something strangely erotic about it. His hands slid down her body, sending her breath skittering and her heart to pounding. Cool air greeted her hot flesh as he coaxed the negligee down over her breasts, past her hips to pool at her feet on the floor. She quivered with the need to feel his bare skin against hers. Shaking hands reached to remove the unwanted barrier. A gentle hand stopped hers.
"Slowly, now."
The husky whisper made her more frantic. She wanted everything she had heard about her entire life. She wanted the earth to shake and the moon to drop from its perch, for time to stop, if only for a moment, and bliss hitherto unknown to her to consume her. Just once in this life.
"I don't think I can wait," she whispered raggedly.
"Yes, you can." His lips trailed down her neck, following a path meant to send her over the edge.
"Your clothes," she gasped. Her hands fluttered ineffectually around his shoulders.
"Not yet."
"Now," she begged.
"It will only end your life sooner. Let me take my time." He clasped her face between his hands, gently tracing her features. "You are so beautiful." Leaning down, he kissed her again.
Even as he kissed her, she could not shake the need to move quicker. She needed his body joined to hers in the ageless dance of life... or death. Later would be too late. It had to be now. She pulled back, looking into his passion glazed eyes.
"No," she shook her head, "I need you now."
He hesitated.
"Please," she entreated.
Reluctantly, he complied. He helped her shed his clothes. She marveled at his body, so perfect and beautiful, the broad shoulders, narrow hips, muscular legs and strong arms. He was whip chord lean. Everything about him left her breathless.
His hands and lips worked magic, turning her legs into useless appendages. They buckled beneath her, and he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bed. As if she were a valuable Erte figurine, he lowered her onto the bed. The storm that had threatened to overcome her senses finally broke in waves upon waves of ecstasy, washing over her. Everything she'd dreamed, hoped for, did not compare to the reality. He had promised a taste of heaven and delivered. She was ready to die.
Slowly, the storm subsided, and she lay quietly staring at him in astonishment thinking now he would take her blood. Instead he entered her, his fangs fastened to her neck as he drank deeply of her blood. In the background, the echo of distant church bells announced the witching hour and the beginning of All Saint's Day. White, hot flames licked through her veins, consuming everything in its path. The inferno grew until she felt that she would combust. Then the impossible happened, and she reached even higher, her body felt like she was freefalling through infinite space. As she shattered into a million pieces, oblivion reached out and clasped her to its bosom.
* * *
Weak November sunlight poured through the window, waking her. Groggy and replete, she opened her eyes. If this was heaven, it looked a lot like her apartment on earth. That meant it could only be purgatory. She closed her eyes, tears seeping down her face. Hadn't she suffered enough?
"Sheri."
At the sound of his voice, her eyes popped open. She searched the room. He stood in front of the window, the light creating a halo around him. "Matthew?"
"Come join me at the window." He turned to the rising sun. "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"
"What are you doing here?" If he was here, did that mean she still lived?
"You have broken the curse."
Confused, Sheri stared at Matthew. "I've broken the curse? How is that possible?"
"You gave yourself to me of your own freewill. There is something about a virgin's blood that changes our molecular structure, breaking the curse, but only if the virgin loves the vampire. By being a virgin and loving me, your selfless act of giving your life to me with no expectations of living has cured me."
"I'm not dead?" No, this wasn't part of the plan. She wanted to die, didn't she? Living meant being alone, returning to that awful job, coming home to an empty apartment every day, being ridiculed and hit upon by old men.
"Sheri, now, I will age as a regular man. I will age like one and die like one." He crossed to her and took her hands. "Do you know what a wondrous gift you have given me?"
"I..." She struggled with her emotions. This couldn't be happening. "I'm happy for you, but this doesn't change anything for me. Whether I love you or not, you will start a new life and leave, and I will be alone. Dying is preferable to resuming my old life."
"What if I told you that you wouldn't be alone?" His beautiful black eyes gazed upon her tenderly.
"What are you saying? Of course, I'll be alone." What other options were there? That he would want to stay with her? She snorted. Not likely.
"What if I told you that I love you too?"
"You can't." No, he couldn't. It wasn't possible. He was playing a cruel joke on her. She moved away from him, sliding to the other side of the bed.
"Why not?"
Angry, she turned on him. "You don't love me. You only feel gratitude. I don't want your gratitude. No matter what you say, I am not beautiful. I know what I am, Matthew. I was an unwanted plump girl who grew up to be an unwanted plump woman."
The touch of his hand on her arm sent shivers down her spine. He pulled her back against his bare chest. "You are not unwanted. Yes, I am grateful. But I also fell in love with you. That first night we met when you made me promise not to kill you until Halloween, I was already half in love with you. By the end of the evening, I was completely in love. I did not want to kill you last night, but I did not want to curse you as I was cursed. So I came, knowing that if I didn't, you would invite another vampire in who would not take your life as gently or with the reverence it deserved." She wanted to interrupt, but he put a long, supple finger to her lips. "In my time, you would have been considered the epitome of female grace. Women would have been envious of your figure. Have you never heard of Botticelli?" He turned her to face him. "You are beautiful, Sheri. I will tell you that every day of your life whether you believe me or not... if you will let me."
Disbelieving, Sheri said nothing.
"What do I have to do to make you believe me?" he asked.
She was quiet for a moment. Was he being honest? He sounded sincere, but was it a trick? "I don't know."
Hand out, he said, "Come. Let me show you something. See the sun. You can't really see it, only the fingers of its light as it reaches out to the world. Soon, as it rises above the buildings, you will know its true beauty and power. The power of life. You are like that sun to me. Your rays fall gently upon me, enriching my soul, filling the darkness that had taken up residence for over two centuries. Watch the sun rise and then tell me how anyone could not love that." He sighed. "Do you know there is nothing so beautiful as a sunrise."
She snuggled into his arms and gazed up at him. "Yes, there is."
He smiled down at her. "So, will you?"
"Will I what?" she asked.
"Will you spend the rest of your days with me? I know I am no longer the dangerous vampire you fell in love with..."
She rubbed her face against his chest, breathing in his male scent and smiled. "It wasn't the vampire I fell in love with. And yes, yes, I will."
"Will what?"
She laughed. "I will spend the rest of my life with you."
"Now will you watch the sunrise with me?"
"Always, my dearest heart. Always."