The Trapdoor might lead Outside
The city lights flickered on. Rows and rows of street lights lit as the sky moved from dark mauve to navy to black. There was a strange yellow light that settled around the outskirts of the horizon to the west. A nightclub’s purple neon sign came on. A fast-food joint’s lights went out. Someone ran a red light and a horn blared.
I had fogged up the glass of the window I was pressing my face against.
I rubbed my cheek and crawled back into bed.
A week had passed since I had last seen London. Back in my apartment, I rolled around everything that had happened in my head. The thing that cut the deepest was the time I had devoted to London—all the things I had given up for her sake—five years of teen years and three years of womanhood weren’t worth anything to her in the end. She didn’t care. Did she even have a glimmer of affection for me left? Had it ever existed? Did she even love me before she became a vampire? I couldn’t remember her behavior clearly. She certainly didn’t thank me for killing Schroder to keep her alive. And all that time we lived together I guessed we didn’t grow any closer. I supposed if she had known Roan was Schroder when he had her tied up in his cellar she would have turned me and Dudley over to him without a qualm and given him all the blood he wanted.
My brain just kept printing out the same documents—it wasn’t my choice to make. I couldn’t make decisions for my sister. It didn’t matter that I loved her. I couldn’t be that one person in her life that she needed.
Now I didn’t know what to do with the rest of my life. Before, I was living only to take care of her. It wasn’t like my life with her had been a jar of rose petals, but all alone with the darkness stretching out ahead of me… that was something different.
I closed down her internet business. Then I threw her computer down the fire escape into the open dumpster. The keys flew apart when the keyboard hit the lip. The computer was the only thing left in the apartment that had belonged to her; the last thing she had paid for with her own money. Everything else was mine. In the last week, I had let the place go to ruin. It was mine to ruin if I wanted to.
There was a tap on my apartment door every night at eight o’clock. It was Dudley every time, coming by to see if I was okay. I never opened the door or answered his call, but I had begun using him as an alarm clock, so I knew when to get up. It reminded me of when I used to set an alarm on my phone to let me know when I needed to get London out of bed. I kept her hours now.
On the eighth night, he picked the lock and came in anyway.
“Sweeper,” he called. “Are you here?”
I heard him, but I didn’t move from the cocoon of my bed. I didn’t make a sound until he turned on the light in my bedroom—then I shriveled and moaned.
He flicked the lights off. “Vampires aren’t usually affected by electric light after dark,” he said, his voice heavy with sympathy.
“I’m not a vampire,” I croaked.
“Of course, you’re not. However, have you bothered to have those cuts on your neck checked?” he asked as he sat down on the corner of my bed.
I propped myself up on my elbows and stretched the side of my neck for him to see. “I’m fine. I wrapped them up and when I took the bandage off, there was no blood on it. Okay? You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I can’t help being worried about you. I’ve been worrying about you for eight years. It’s not a habit I can break.”
I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth grouchily.
“I came to tell you the end of the story,” he said.
“What?”
“Don’t you want to know what happened?”
A nervous fluttering spread out through my whole skeleton like a newly changed butterfly unfurling its wings for the first time. “There’s more to know?”
“Well, what do you think happened?”
“Schroder killed her,” I said, believing that was the only possible ending after leaving Schroder and London alone in the same room.
“No. Well, maybe,” he stuttered. “We don’t know for sure.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that when Pierce and The Scissor Man went upstairs they were gone.”
I was tongue-tied. I didn’t know if that meant I had reason to hope Schroder hadn’t murdered her, or if they had just gone someplace else to do the deed.
A few seconds passed before Dudley said, “Did you hear about the fire?”
“What fire?”
“There was a fire down in the valley. The police were doing a raid on a vampire draining operation and an explosive detonated. A couple of police officers were hurt.”
“Is Pierce okay?”
“Yeah. He was outside waiting in a car, but The Scissor Man burnt his hands.”
“That’s too bad. I hope it isn’t serious.”
Dudley took a deep breath in. “It was. He and Pierce were planning to take the bullet out of Garth’s head tomorrow... if the raid went well, but since the accident, it doesn’t look like The Scissor Man will be available to do it for a few weeks—maybe months."
"Wait. London didn't kill Garth? I thought she was going to drain him dry."
"I guess she didn't. The police have him. Except the interesting part is that Pierce had a conversation with Schroder before he joined us upstairs.”
“Really? What did they talk about?”
“Schroder wanted to tell Pierce that his way of falling in love without blood loss was crap and that you had removed the bullets from his head, so he didn’t have to chase him anymore. He was sane enough to keep out of trouble.”
I nodded.
“Of course, Pierce didn’t think you removing his bullets negated the fact that he had arranged for the biggest vampire draining operation we’ve ever heard of and chased him anyway. That’s why we met Pierce at the apartment building after everything.”
“Oh,” I said lifelessly.
“Since The Scissor Man is out of the picture, for the time being, Pierce was wondering if you wouldn’t mind taking the bullet out of Garth.”
I smirked. “Why would I do that?”
Dudley scooted closer to me on the bed and said, “Garth used to work in the blood transfusion program Pierce started. Did he explain it to you? They take people who have consumed a portion of vampire blood and draw their blood until all the vampire blood has been removed, all the while exchanging their blood for clean human blood. Garth was in charge of disposing of the old vampire blood. At first, he was good at scorching it in a pot so it became unusable, but eventually, he got greedy and began selling it. Two of the humans from the coven were customers of his. Their names were Jerome…”
I perked up. That was the guy Dudley had fought and eventually handcuffed to the wall.
“And Raymond,” Dudley finished. “Raymond was the vampire you killed. Garth and London called him Five.”
“Hmm…”
“The thing was Garth had built up a store of over thirty liters and he and his two buddies were consuming it slowly. Garth was caught and fired for misuse of materials. They tested him to see if he’d drunk any, but he knew how to fudge the test. They let him go, not knowing he had started the two-month timer on himself. If he didn’t get more vampire blood, he’d die. That was when he met Schroder.” Dudley paused. “That was how I found him in that rotted apartment complex—by trailing along after hearing that story from Pierce. You see, Garth thought he could be immortal without having a vampire lover at all. If he drank the blood drained off the wannabe vampires at the training center, then no one would have to die. He wouldn’t have to kill anyone and no one would be after him, and if he sold the blood, he could make megabucks. When he was found out, if he admitted what he had done, they would have put him in the same program with those at the training center and put him in prison. Instead, he opted to try to find a vampire before it was too late.”
“And you feel sorry for him?” I questioned, bewildered.
“How could I feel sorry for him? He still took two of his old customers to drain London after he rescued her from Schroder’s coven. He wouldn’t have won my support unless he kicked everyone off and ran away with her alone. Garth had already given each of those guys seven liters, which should have taken a lot of the pressure off London, but she was still a mess when we got there. No forgiveness. We need to take the bullet out so he can give us some accurate information about his old blood trafficking operation. It seems he sold enough vampire blood to turn eight humans before he started drinking any himself. I’m going to find those vamps and end them. Will you help me?”
I turned onto my side and put my back to Dudley. “I don’t want anything else to do with jilted vampires.”
“Right,” Dudley said quietly.
I compacted into a ball and shivered miserably. I didn’t want to think of the horror that might come from another eight vampires unleashed on the world.
“It’s just one bullet,” Dudley’s soft voice persisted.
“Why can’t you do it?” I growled. “You seem to be fine with the sight of blood.”
“Because I have crappy fine motor skills and you have more experience.”
I groaned. “Will I have to see him walking and talking and moving or just on ice for the operation?”
“Just on ice,” Dudley reassured me.
“All right. I’ll do it, but someone has got to pay me something for it. They’re going to shut off my electricity next week if I don’t pay the bill.”
“Sure,” Dudley said, getting off the bed and going into the bathroom. He shuffled around in there for a bit before he came back. “You have no clean towels,” he informed me.
“Well, I’ve been a little lacking in the motivation department.” I smiled wanly.
“Hey, Sweeper, why don’t you give this place up? You could move to a new apartment and start again.”
I stretched my arms over my head and listened to him while he walked around the room picking my clothes off the floor. “You could start by getting rid of these,” he said, showing me the clothes Schroder had given me, now irrevocably stained with dried blood. “Where’s the garbage?”
“Oh, just chuck them in the dumpster. I'm right above it. Those clothes weren’t even mine. They were just some duds Schroder gave me when I ran out of clean clothes.”
“Schroder gave them to you?” he asked, suddenly rooting around in the pockets. “Did he leave this for you, too?” He pulled out a white piece of paper and held it between two of his fingers.
“There was a note in there? I didn’t see a note!” Then I remembered Schroder sliding his hand in my back pocket when he took the gun off my back. “I thought he was just grabbing my ass. He was giving me a note!” I got out of bed and leaped across the room to snatch it out of Dudley’s fingers.
He moved the note out of my reach and commented coldly, “If only you had been this anxious to hear from me when I came by yesterday, or the day before, or the day before.”
“It wasn’t personal,” I quickly explained. “It was only because I couldn’t…”
“It’s okay,” he said mercifully, giving me the note. “I understand. You needed time to digest.”
I unfolded the paper. It was written in messy black ink that was smeared and blotted all over the page. It read:
Sweeper,
You didn’t give me much time to make a decision before coming here and forcing me. I’m leaving. Before I go, I want to tell you something. I think it was only the bullets in my head clouding my reasoning that made me believe I could be with you without drinking your blood.
There’s more. I wanted to kill London eight years ago, not because of vampire instincts, but because I knew I had made the wrong choice. If I wanted you so much, I shouldn’t have compromised.
What I am about to do is only for you. I’m going to take London back to my island. I’m not saying I’m going to let her kill me, but I’m going to follow through with her until the end. I’m going to find out if there’s a way for both of us to live. If there is—expect me to come for you. If it’s possible, nothing will hold me back.
Leave your window open and use this time to become the Sweeper that I will love forever. Don’t disappoint me. There’s still plenty of life left to live.
By the way, after you took the bullets out, I remembered which one was my name. It’ll be our secret.
Yours Forever,
Roan
P.S. Don’t worry about Tate. I’ll take care of him when I come back.
I finished and folded up the paper with a sick grimace. I crumpled it a little and felt my whole body droop. It was honestly the most I could have hoped for. Now I was going to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder expecting Nosferatu.
“Can I read it?” Dudley asked.
“No,” I said, feeling around my body to see if I had a pocket on me. I didn’t, so I stuffed it down the front of my shirt.
“Is it that dear to your heart?” he scoffed.
“No,” I said, feigning its importance. “You just won’t come down my shirt for it.”
“Oh, wouldn’t I?” he asked wickedly.
I covered my chest with my hands defensively.
Dudley rolled his eyes. Then he continued picking up my room. “I wanted to ask you. Were you planning to go back to work for Marshall?”
“Is there a job still waiting for me after I stopped going to work?”
“Not really. Marshall is retiring. He sent his creditor files to a cut-off-your-ears style collection agency, so there really wouldn’t be anything for you to do.” Dudley turned his back to me and continued, “Actually, I’ve taken over his office space. My partner and I need an assistant.”
“And you want me for the job?” I asked dubiously.
He looked into my eyes meaningfully. “It won’t be like working for Marshall. They’ll be fieldwork to do, and I might need the occasional vampire carved up.”
I hesitated. I wasn’t sure I wanted in on all that vampire slaying. “I don’t know…”
“I’m just trying to think of a way to keep you with me,” he said quietly.
It was his eyes, or maybe his lips, or maybe his voice that caught me hook-line-and-sinker, but... I didn’t want to leave him either. I nodded and said flippantly, “Well, if you’re that desperate, I guess I can fill in for the time being.”
His arms came around me in a hug and I couldn’t move, breathe, or swallow. Suddenly, clamped in that vice-grip embrace, I felt like life could go on. It was just as that wacko vampire, Roan or Schroder, said, there was still plenty of life left to live.
***
The next Monday, I showed up for work in a crisp new black suit. Dudley had paid me a little something in advance for getting the bullet out of Garth and to keep the lights on in my apartment. My hair was straight and shining. I’d been to the salon. My stomach was full of blueberry waffles thanks to Dudley and mine’s my new relationship. He took me on a breakfast date for my first day. He was super nervous when he came to pick me up. I could tell. He’d forgotten to tie his tie and it hung around his neck, completely undone.
We strolled into the office, with my high heels making a racket on the tiling.
“So, you haven’t told me yet,” I reminded him. “Who’s your partner?”
“I think you’ve met him,” Dudley said playfully, slipping his arm around my waist.
Then a voice came from inside the empty office, “If you two are going to be all lovey-dovey, I’m leaving right now,”
“Like you have anything better to do,” Dudley retorted.
I pushed off Dudley’s hand and went to the office door. Standing next to the filing cabinet in a leisurely way was Pierce Wagner.
I gawked.
He flashed his green eyes at me and said, “Did you fail to hear that I was sacked?”
“Yeah. I must have missed that. Why?”
“I was supposed to be helping with the raid when the building went up like a Roman candle? When I was in the third phase, I could stomach anything, but ever since I entered phase four I cannot stand the sight of blood,” he said pompously.
“So?”
“So the city decided they would rather not leave their community in the hands of a man who might be tempted to lick blood off the floor. Their loss really.”
I turned from Pierce, dressed to kill and looking as upright as a pencil in his pinstripe suit, to Dudley—looking a trifle shabby, but a little golden around the edges nonetheless.
“You guys want me to be your assistant? Is this a real job?”
Dudley was gruff and mildly impatient. “It’s legitimate.”
I didn’t know what to say when the ringing of the phone snapped me out of it. Pierce answered it, looked surprised, and handed me the phone.
I took it and was no less gob-smacked than Pierce when I heard the voice on the line. It was my mother. I’d sent her a text with my new work number in it the night before, but I didn’t expect her to make use of it so quickly.
“Hi,” I said, pulling a face for only Dudley to see.
He chuckled and turned away to give me privacy.
“Sweeper, I was just calling to see if you were all right,” she said.
I looked at Dudley. His hair was coming off his ears in tiny ski jumps and his toe was tapping cheerfully. Actually, he was dismantling the file Marshall had made up for London and running the pages through the shredder.
“I’m all right,” I said, feeling at greater ease with myself than I’d felt in a long time.
“That’s a relief,” my mother said. “Have you heard from London?”
“No,” I said slowly. “She never called me back.”
THE END