Twenty: The Wind and the Rain and the Sky and Everything
***
Ohio was more safe during the spring of 2017 than Keltie ever could have dreamed. It stood to reason, since Bolt was nowhere around. Shortly after their confrontation at Marty’s house, he had returned to Great Britain for a holiday with Anissa. He liked to do so every four or five years. That was typically all the time his heart would allow itself to be separated from home. On this occasion, he’d left earlier in the year, confident the weather in Frodsham would be every bit as cold and miserable as it was in Ohio, to get away from the girl who’d been giving him so much trouble of late. He’d gone early to get away from Keltie.
Irish girls were such a bother. Feisty and outspoken, while at the same time suspicious of anyone who claimed to enjoy their company, it was a wonder any of them had friends at all. If only she were Pinoy, like the boy she’d befriended of late, taciturn and apologetic.
Or Chesire, like the girl he walked with now. She was a dainty little thing, blonde, with a soft voice cool as the wind blowing through the trees tonight in Castle Park. They strolled beneath a clear sky rife with stars, talking about crocuses, which hadn’t come up yet, and about the moon, which had. Her name was Lexi. She was a wedding photographer who’d been selling wares at a picture festival earlier that day. Bolt liked her very much. Courteous, kind, and tactful, she thanked him for dinner (after he’d plucked her from the throng like a pet shop patron in love with a new kitten) before going on to compliment the shine on his boots, the sweep of his cape. All of this before Bolt even suggested a walk in the park, to which she immediately said yes.
“I just love these cold, crisp nights,” Lexi gushed at present, her eyes lost in the trees. “Sometimes I even go walking alone, though my father’d have my head if he knew.”
“And how old are you, Lexi?” Bolt asked with polished charm.
“I’m twenty-three. I’m hoping my picture business takes off soon, so I can move to London.”
Bolt smiled. “I love London. I’m like you, Lexi. I need dreary skies.”
“There’s such poetry in it, you know? Such poetry. The wind and rain have a voice, and if you listen, you’ll hear them sing.”
They walked a little way further, and soon arrived at the park’s arts and crafts building. It was closed at this hour, of course, to which Bolt made special mention of what a pity they couldn’t go inside. He then asked if Lexi had anything on display there.
“Oh no,” she breathed out, as if the very idea were quite silly. “Right now I only work at weddings.”
“You must have great appreciation for the bonding between a man and a woman.”
At this the girl’s eyes came alight so fast Bolt was almost blinded. “Oh, I do! So very much! Above all,” she suddenly intoned, “love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of—“
“OUCH!”
Her voice came to a faltering stop. “What is it?”
“Twisted my ankle,” Bolt said. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh. Now where was I?”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure I got your message—“
“And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you.”
With that, Bolt suddenly burst into flames. Its effect on Lexi was twofold: First she screamed, ripping the tranquility of the night into a million shreds, and then she ran pell-mell back towards the gate. Lost in frantic effort to beat the flames on his cloak, Bolt had no time to shout explanations. Indeed, he had nearly begun to scream himself, as the clasp on his cape was jammed and wouldn’t come loose.
“Goddammit!” he yelled.
Lexi’s feet carried her like the wind. She breasted a hill and went down the other side, out of Bolt’s eyesight. But not for long. Just as the cape finally let go, he heard another scream, and looked up to see a white-gowned Anissa floating through the trees. One of her clawed hands had a firm grip on Lexi’s throat, cutting off any more noise it might make. The other was raised towards Bolt with the index finger wagging back and forth.
Scowling, Bolt stomped out the last of the flames. His cape was ruined. Probably his pants too. All because the silly bitch he’d chosen for tonight had a good head for Bible quotes.
“Let me tell you something,” he said, “I have had a really rough go of things lately.”
Anissa’s feet gently touched the ground. She still had a lock on the girl’s throat, who probably hadn’t drawn breath for two minutes or more. In other words, she was dead. Blue, limp, ready for devouring. Whatever.
“You’ll be all right,” the vampiress breathed. “Everyone goes through it from time to time.”
Bolt kicked his now useless cape into the bushes. “I don’t know. I thought I was just having bad luck with Keltie. But now this one”—he gestured at Lexi’s corpse—“punches me in the nose, too.”
“You toy with your prey too much. Go and eat when you’re hungry, dear.”
As if to demonstrate what she meant, Anissa took a bite from the girl’s shoulder.
“You think that’s all?” Bolt asked hopefully.
“I know that’s all. Stop planning so much and do.”
“On a normal night that’s how I work. I don’t have trouble in cities like Cleveland. But this one girl. This Keltie Burke.”
“She’s only human. You’ll have her. One thing you might try—if you really do like toying—is punching her in the gut. Here.” She tossed Lexi onto the ground near Bolt’s feet. “Dig in. She’s yours.”
But Bolt was no longer interested in food. He looked at his mistress in a quizzical way and asked: “What do you mean, punch her in the gut?”
“Hit her where it hurts, darling. Hit her and do it hard. Does she have friends? Family?”
“Both, I think,” Bolt replied, thinking of the Filipino boy, and of a man that Lloyd had seen visiting her at the reform school.
Anissa smiled. “Well then. Try going after them. Find the eyes of this Keltie girl’s love, and gouge them out. In my time I’ve found that real human suffering comes from the death of love.”
Bolt gave her a slow, thoughtful nod. It wasn’t a bad idea at all. Keltie had certainly made him suffer. Why not return the favor before killing her in the slowest, most painful way he could dream up?
“Or,” Anissa went on, “I could fly over and take care of her for you.” She snapped her fingers. “Quickly. No pain, no strain.”
“No,” Bolt told her. “No. That’s just it, mistress. For Keltie, I want pain and strain. I want that in abundance.”
“So what are you waiting for?”
He smiled before looking back at Lexi’s dead body. “Let’s eat here first. Celebrate a kill like the scoundrels we are.”