Nine: Splattered
***
There once was a ship called Endurance,
Through the pack ice did she sail,
Marked by Antarctic occurrence,
One time in a killing gale.
***
She was a strong barquentine vessel,
Designed for uneasy terrain,
‘Til upon ice did her hull nestle,
And upon ice was cleft in twain.
***
In coldness we must needs remember,
She holds fast from bow to stern,
Forever in silent splendor,
In coldness will memories burn.
***
I love you, Marty. Always.
--Vera
***
But in the end he couldn’t do it. He placed the stake upon her chest, raised the hammer high…and faltered. Snug in the bowels of the school, protected from his blasphemy by the myriad shadows that lay draped over everything like burial cloths, he faltered. And though Keltie couldn’t be sure, she thought he’d begun to weep.
“Think of something happy,” Vera said softly from inside her casket. “Like the poem says, Marty. We can always remember.”
“Memories hurt.”
“Only if you see them as something forever lost. That isn’t what they’re for, darling. They’re proof of a life that you once lived, and one day may live again.”
Keltie watched the hammer—a mere outline in the weak light—tremble for a moment.
“Do it,” the vampiress whispered. “Please, Marty. Please.”
There was another moment. A moment, a twinkle. An eternity. Slowly, the hammer began to descend, until Marty, no longer possessed of the strength to lift it, placed it in the casket, and withdrew.
For a time Keltie could do nothing. She stared at the casket, thinking that perhaps Vera would rise to beckon her brother back. But no. Save for a rogue draft amongst the cobwebs overhead, all was silent and still.
“Vera,” she whispered. And again when no answer came: “Vera.”
“Is that you, Keltie?” the other’s voice floated upward.
“Yes.”
“Come here, please. And mind the spider.”
Keltie’s boot, which had moved forward a step, froze. “What spider?”
“You’ll see it when you’re here.”
Now fearing two entities instead of one, Keltie approached the casket. Her eyes darted everywhere. She’d never been keen on spiders; now was not a time for about facing. And then, just before Vera’s body came into view, she saw it. A large brown creature with eight legs, bigger than Keltie’s hand, brooded on the wall at eye level.
“Holy shit,” she gushed.
“Now now,” Vera said, “don’t frighten her.”
“Me frighten her?”
“She’s what the Australians call a huntsman. Quite beautiful. And quite harmless.”
Keltie looked at the spider, which seemed to be looking back at her. Its black eyes shined like crystals in the darkness. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather judge her for myself,” she told Vera.
“My judgment comes today, Keltie. Save hers for another time.”
The graveness in Vera’s tone made her look down. A woman in white looked back, with eyes black as the huntsman’s. She wore a smile on a pair of bleached lips cracked with dryness. A green ribbon was tied around her neck.
“Good afternoon,” the lips spoke.
Keltie made no reply. Her gaze went to the woman’s hands, which lay at rest on the counterpane. The fingers appeared long enough, the nails sharp enough, to slice off a human head if they so desired. Further down were two bare, bloodless feet with toes like talons.
“Fiction,” Vera said.
Keltie looked up. “What?”
“Fiction. That’s me. A monster who pretends to be a woman. I wear a white dress. I teach young folk how to be strong, and old folk how to die. I bend the truth. Shape it into forms that please my students. And whenever my master needs me, I’m there for him.”
“Bolt.”
“Yes,” Vera went on. “But he made a mistake. He thought that eventually I would claim my brother. Take him into the family. Instead, he became my lifeline, tethering me to whom I once was.” Her eyes wandered back to the spider as she spoke. “It was gossamer, like the silk this creature spins, but it was there. And it still is.”
“I don’t think Marty can do as you ask,” Keltie said. “Not that I blame him.”
“But you must blame him,” the other replied, in a tone that bordered on abhorrence. “You must.”
“Why?”
“Because now that line is attached to you.”
Keltie’s breath stopped. Slack-jawed, she stared at Vera. You cannot be serious! a famous voice shouted from somewhere in the depths of her mind. But apparently the vampiress meant every word she said. Her eyes, as well as that bleached smile, lingered over Keltie, waiting for what would happen next. The ball was on her side of the court.
“Don’t,” Keltie pleaded. The stake and hammer were still in the casket. More scared of them now than of the spider, her eyes gave a wide berth. “Don’t ask me, Vera. Please.”
“I’m not asking. I gave you three months’ reprieve from Bolt. Now it’s time to pay.”
“But I can’t.”
“You’ve done it before.”
She spoke in a way that suggested the deed would be no more difficult than executing a scorpion on the balance beam, and it made Keltie want to laugh. “Out of self-defense, Vera,” she explained, “and I got lucky. That’s really all that happened. I got lucky.”
“Then you’re on firmer ground than you believe. Because today you won’t need luck.”
“No? What then?”
“Only the compassion that’s always been in you.”
“I live in a juvenile detention home, Vera, and it’s not because I’m compassionate.”
“You also came here with Marty. Because you didn’t want him to face this alone. And don’t forget Meow-Meow.”
“Meow-Meow was just a cat,” Keltie reminded her. “She’s dead now.”
Vera frowned. “You don’t give yourself many accolades, do you?”
“Too often they turn out to be nothing.”
“Not this time. Pick up the stake and hammer.”
“No.”
“If you don’t,” Vera said, showing her teeth, “I’ll kill you.”
“You don’t mean that. And once Bolt finds you dead, he’ll come to kill me anyway.”
Vera’s eyes turned the blood red of slashed wrists. Her hand, now more like a claw, snatched at Keltie’s neck and found right where to squeeze, cutting off any chance of a scream for help. “I am running out of nice things to say,” Keltie heard as she squirmed for air. “Understand? Nod like you understand, girl. Good.” The claw loosened a little. “I’m sorry for scaring you, but remember that my human qualities have long since gone to rot, and can’t always support the weight pressed upon them. When I can’t get what I want by negotiation I have to go with savagery.”
“Yes,” Keltie hissed through gritted teeth. “Thank you for reminding me.”
“Now when I release you, you’re going to pick up the stake and hammer as asked, and carry on where my brother could not.” The face looking at her, all teeth and eyes, tilted to the left. “Is this clear?”
“Yes!”
The teeth smiled. “Marvelous.”
Keltie’s first reaction, once the claw let her go, was to check her throat for blood. There was none. Satisfied as she could be with these findings given the circumstances, she then placed her regard back on the afternoon’s main issue, who had nestled herself once more into the casket as if nothing at all untoward had happened.
“Vera—“
Are you sure? Keltie almost finished, before realizing how stupid it would have sounded.
“Yes?” the vampiress asked.
A sudden memory struck her. “You never gave me my box turtle,” she answered.
“I thought it understood there never actually was one. Now pick up the stake and hammer.”
Trapped between two despicable things—to kill or be killed—Keltie decided to do as she was told. Marty, she thought with unfair contempt, you son of a bitch, this is going to cost you big. And where the hell did you run off to anyway?
The hammer felt heavier than she’d expected. Lifting it caused the small muscles in her arm to go taut. For all of that, placing the stake on Vera’s chest took more effort still. Her hand trembled.
“Upside down,” Vera said.
The stake shook. “Huh?”
“The sharp end goes on my chest, darling, not the other way about.”
Flustered, Keltie twisted her hand, but instead of executing the neat baton twirl she’d been rather foolishly hoping for, the stake dropped and clattered at her feet. Keltie bent, picked it up, struck her head on one of the coffin handles.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she confessed, once Vera’s face was back in view.
“Clearly not,” the other retorted. “Take a few deep breaths if you wish.”
“Not sure it would help. Let’s try again.”
“Wait. I forgot one thing.” Before Keltie could open her mouth to ask what, Vera sat up in the coffin. In one swift motion, she lifted her gown over her head, exposing two high, small breasts with dark nipples. “There,” she said, lying back. “See my ribs? Place the stake between them, just over the heart.”
“Are you really feeling as brave as you look?” Keltie was forced to ask. “Because if so, it’s a bit of a head-scratcher to say the least.”
“I’m a little frightened,” Vera allowed. “I’ve read that it hurts. Really, really bad.” Her eyes narrowed at Keltie. “I may scream. Beg you to stop. Don’t. Under no circumstances are you to allow yourself the slightest bit of sympathy towards my plight. Understood?”
“You want this very badly, don’t you?”
“I’m a weapon that’s tired of killing.” Vera’s head sank further into the pillows, and a smile found its way to her lips. “I hope to come back in the next life as a flower. Nothing complex or multi-colorful. Just a small, pretty flower, growing in a field of warm winds with lots of others like me. How I would love that. To be pretty and harmless.”
Keltie placed the tip of the stake under Vera’s left breast. It pressed on the delicate skin. She wasn’t certain, but it seemed she could feel the stake vibrate with every beat of the vampiress’ cold heart.
“Good girl,” the pale lips whispered. “Now I’m going to take in a deep breath and hold it. Let it be my last, darling.”
Keltie gave her a slow nod. “Make it a good one.”
“Oh I will.” Vera closed her eyes. Her lips parted. “Ahhhhhhhhh!” she gasped.
Keltie felt her chest rise against the stake…and wait. She raised the hammer. It hurt her arm to do so, but she raised it, staring into Vera’s eyes. Go, those eyes pleaded. Go, go.
Yet still she hesitated. The arm holding the hammer began to throb. Before long she would need to lower it, to rest her muscles. That would never do. Not with Vera holding her breath like a woman waiting to be let out of a milk tank. Keltie didn’t know how long she could last…and at the bottom line, it didn’t matter. Vera had sent Bolt off the trail of Keltie’s blood in return for another favor that Marty now owed. A life for a life. A breath spent for a breath drawn. Marty had not been able to see that, but was it really Marty whom Vera had struck the bargain with anyway?
Hard as she could, Keltie slammed the hammer down. A fountain of thick, black blood splattered her. Keltie raised the hammer and dropped it again—WHACK! More blood, hot and sticky, spewed into her eyes. Now she couldn’t see. Not caring in the slightest, she raised the hammer.
“WAIT!” Vera screamed. “WAIT, PLEASE! I’M SORRY!”
WHACK!
“KELTIE! KELTIE IT HURTS!”
WHACK! WHACK!
“I DIDN’T MEAN IT! I DIDN’T MEAN IT! I’M SORRY FOR EVERYTHING, JUST PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!”
Keltie couldn’t hear. There was no reason to hear. She was swinging the hammer like a madwoman, up and down, up and down, gritting her teeth. The stake had long since gone all the way through Vera’s body. Splinters from the casket’s bottom dappled the floor. Vera took a wet, ragged breath. In the next second Keltie’s face was splashed with bloody vomit. And still she went right on pounding. Pounding until her own breath threatened to give out, and her arm could no longer manage the duty placed upon it. Physically, this was the toughest thing she had ever done. But mentally? Mentally, she was having a fucking blast. Later she would wonder why. She would ask herself where this savage, deranged girl had come from. But right now? Right now she just wanted to enjoy the crazy bitch’s company.
“DIE!” she shrieked into Vera’s dying face. “Die, you fucking parasite! You monster! YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF MISERABLE UNDEAD SHIT!”
There was a clatter at her feet. Keltie looked down to see the hammer lying on its side. So that was it then. Mission accomplished. Deed fulfilled. No wonder the room had fallen so silent all of a sudden. And when she looked back into the casket, Keltie saw that Vera was dead. Something that looked like a twisted, uprooted tree trunk now occupied the casket. Vera’s eyes were splayed open. Her jaw hung at a crooked angle. Seeing her made Keltie—who stood soaked in blood from head to toe—think of only one word.
“Done,” she said.
She turned to go…and Vera’s body burst into flames.
“Keltie?” a voice called from the top of the stairs. “Keltie where are you?”
“I’m here, Marty,” she called back, staring into the flames.
“Is Vera with you?”
Keltie closed her eyes. She couldn’t answer that question just yet. It had been cruel, really, for Marty to even ask. God yes. Cowardly and cruel, that was Marty at the moment.
No it’s not, some scrap of reason tried to tell her from what felt like a million miles away. What would you have done, had the roles been reversed? Eh, girl? Tell me.
“I would have killed her,” Keltie whispered.
Well, then you’re even more fucked up than I thought.
“Maybe,” Keltie said. “I could be wrong, so wrong. But maybe, maybe.”
Leaving the fire to burn, she left the basement in coldness.