Cheating Life

xiv

I probably should have explained something, but most people know it already. By this time, the majority of prostitution around the world was run by vampires. There were normal nickel and dime girls out there, but the business was a vampire business. A lot of cathouses also doubled as chophouses, and vice versa.

It's not like it happened overnight. The girls performed both services, I imagine, long before they came out to the public. I think they had pornography, too, but that's harder to tell. It was something about them being girls – vampires are almost exclusively female - and their ability to maintain or even slightly change their appearance by intent alone. Of course, it helped that they didn't get or pass diseases, beside that one main one. They certainly didn't have any religious hang-ups. And I'm sure it worked out nicely that they could find clientele who would give up a pint or two of the red stuff for a discounted night in bed and wouldn't blab about it afterward.

But then they were discovered, or made themselves public, or some combination of the two, right about when the Stephenson Lens was invented. I've heard that the Stephenson Lens was what uncovered them, and I've heard that the vampires themselves made the Lens. Either way, they were public. There was uproar for a few months. Some people thought they should be kicked out of the country, but they had their fingers in too many businesses. Some people thought there should be a war, and in a few countries there have been. There were killings on both sides around here. But one of the greatest features of our country has always been the capacity to absorb any kind of newcomer. Vampires had adapted to living sociably with people long ago, and they already had a pretty strong lobby. They managed to legalize prostitution in every state, and my guess is that they were behind the social acceptance of suicide as well. They had a neat little package - a niche in society that even the uptight moralites could wink at. After all, vampires weren't really human any more anyway – they didn't reincarnate like the rest of us. God wouldn't be interested in their souls.

xv

I picked over my words before I answered Claire, choosing the most vague but accurate response. "I'm just done," I told her.

She smiled, and played with the folds of my ear between her fingers. "It's certainly not a bad way to go. And the maternity wards in this neighborhood are first rate. We make substantial donations to keep them that way."

She hadn't caught it. "No... I'm really done, for good. I've done some reading, and not the kind of books you find in the library. I know. About the blood. Or I guess the flesh for some of you. That's not really what you feed on. It's just the vehicle. The soul's not as immortal as everyone thinks."

She was no longer smiling - she was sitting straight up and had unwrapped herself from me.

"I'm looking for extinction, Claire."

She stood, and she was cold and distant. A shadow passed over her eyes.

I sighed. I had expected I might get a reaction like this, and that's why I had meant to keep it a secret for as long as possible - from Jane and the others - that I knew about them. But then Claire had started opening up. I had gotten relaxed and sloppy.

xvi

You see, vampires had managed to gain their social acceptance, where they had managed to gain it, because the living citizens of those communities were thoroughly convinced that their soul was eternal. Before the Lens changed their paradigm, their blood and their flesh - their life - was all they really had. Even the afterlife churches were suspiciously greedy with their mortal coils. But after the Lens, blood and flesh were merely temporary possessions, commodities, to be bartered away if one wished. After the legality of the will-to-self was ratified, blood and flesh were the most temporary possessions one had. But if those same people understood that their soul was at risk... If they knew that when a vampire drank blood, they sipped from the grail of the spirit, and could even consume them entirely... Well, the public life of the vampire would be short-lived.

Of course, I didn't actually know all of this. Reading the journals of the Refinery frontman turned East-Asian Xenophobe Militant wasn't quite like reading a scientific journal or hearing it from the fanged mouth itself. There was a lot of guessing, a lot of piecing things together, a lot of trusting untrustworthy sources. It was a long shot, but I didn't have much to lose. But now - now I had Claire's reaction.

xvii

Claire's eyes were still locked to me as she now stood far away, by the door, whispering urgently into the receiver. I dropped back to the settee and closed my eyes. Shit. So much for discretion.

I heard her door open and shut, and I knew she had locked me in. There was nothing to do but wait. I wasn't worried. What could they do to me, anyway, that I wasn't already paying for? But it was a good time wasted. It was nice to be wanted, even if it was just as a rare steak.

I felt a strange presence hovering over me.

My eyes snapped open and I started to my elbows. Standing over the couch was a specter, or the closest to one I had ever seen. She was all in white - loose, gauzy white, and her skin and hair were nearly as blanched. Her eyes, like so many of the girls, were hooded in dark shadow. She nibbled heavy, glossy pink lips, and dry-washed her hands as she peered down at me.

"Shhh..." She laid a finger over my mouth.

I didn't say anything, but I didn't settle down again, either. It was difficult to distinguish her features in the mask of white, but I thought her unpretty, perhaps haughty in her features.

"My poor dear..."

She kneeled on the edge of the settee, then draped herself over me like a death shroud. After a moment of resistance, I fell back to the cushions.

"Left alone, in this large, dark room... It's dangerous here, you know."

She stroked my cheek and the top of my head, and sidled and shifted and settled until she was snuggled up tightly against me.

"My poor dear..."

xviii

My eyelids popped to the clack-clack of heels on the wooden floor. I had no idea how much time had passed - it could have been minutes or hours. I had a headache. My throat burned and weighed heavy. The specter was on me, clutching my shoulders and head, her fangs nestled into the same bite Claire had made earlier in the soft part of my neck. Her tongue pumped against my flesh while her teeth held the pressure, producing a steady ooze of blood into her mouth.

"Get out!" Jane's voice was angry, loud and commanding, and the specter flinched and shriveled away from me. Without a sound she backed away from the settee, then fled for the door.

Jane stood over me with her arms crossed, still in the black leather, but her hair was loose and falling over her shoulders. "Such a mess."

Claire stood in almost the same pose at the door, once she had shut it behind the flown leech.

I truly was a mess - I was limp in the settee, unable or unwilling to move. Blood was pooling in the divot of my breastbone and beginning to drip to the cushion, as, in her haste, the specter was unable to close the wound. Jane crouched beside me and held the bite with her fingers while she used my shirt to mop up the excess, then closed her mouth over the wound until the reagents in her saliva stopped the flow and the bite had swollen shut.

Then she was helping me to my feet and supporting me as we crossed the long, long room toward the door.

"You should not have let her in," Jane was saying. Claire had some protest, but Jane silenced her. "You should have kept this quiet. I'll send for you later. In his cell. We'll talk."

xix

I remember feeling feverish. My throat hurt in a way none of Jane or Claire's bites had. I was weak – even the sheets thrown over me were too heavy to lift.

I remember Jane undressing me in the dark and putting me to bed. I remember waking when she let other people into the room. Once it was the old man from the desk that first night. Once it was Claire, and she stayed for awhile. Jane had some strong words for her, but they dropped to a whisper when they saw my eyes open. Another time it was a woman I didn't recognize, and she wasn't saying anything. A few times I woke and only Jane was there, sitting at the desk, staring intently at the tablet.

I remember being propped up for a drink from a warm cup that soothed my throat and let me feel my fingers and toes again.

Then it was light outside. A bright sun bled through the edges of the heavy curtains. The tablet was turned off and back on its stand, and Jane was watching me. She had changed again at some point into regulars - a black t-shirt, black shorts, and thick black tights. She sat cross-legged and sideways in the chair. She looked comfortable, and not at all tired. "Do you think you could eat?" I wasn't sure, but Jane had food for me in a few minutes anyway - pasta with red sauce. She made sure I kept putting food in my mouth until I finally pushed it away. "Not enough time." She frowned.

I couldn't sleep with the sunlight, so I lay in the bed and we talked. I talked mostly - as my throat permitted and between sips from that warm cup - and she asked me questions. They weren't the leading questions that would get us aroused or give her insight into what fantasy to fulfill next, but serious questions about my life, like a date interview. She asked about my parents and my brother - not details, but impressions about my relationships, what I liked and disliked about them. We went through all of the women I dated (a longer list than I remembered at first) and all of those I had been with (that list was much shorter – in fact it had doubled in the last two days). She tried to get me to name the things about myself that irritated other people, but I know nothing I gave her would've topped anyone's list. There wasn't much I was really proud of, but not too much to regret, either. It wasn't that I hadn't thought about it before.

She asked me about the things I'd written, and I told her about my journal.

"I deleted it." She said it matter-of-factly, and I wasn't sure how to take it. "I wouldn't have - there wasn't anything in there to worry about - but you've put a scare on the Veyl, and now there will be scrutiny." She came over and sat beside me. "But I read the whole thing first - your journal - every post, and I will remember it. Everything. I knew that would mean more to you, anyway."

"It was set to auto-delete," I offered.

"I know."

She let the air clear for a moment, then pulled her bag up onto her lap and produced the copper plaque. "Look; it's past morning. Actually, it's late in the afternoon. How's your resolve?" She held out the plaque to me.

"Strong. Still strong." I affirmed the plaque verbally and pressed my thumbs into the circle when she held it before me.

"Good." She paused. "Because today is your last day." She slipped the plaque back into her bag as she continued. "I'd rather have more time to strengthen you up so we could both have a better time of it. I really wish that. But we can't risk--"

My heart pounded in my ears. There was a tinny buzzing, and it got louder, drowning out her words. It wasn't a bell, but it tolled for me. I could see her clearly, but she was oddly distant, like I was looking through someone else's eyes. The fever flushed back. I felt cold and hot at the same time, and sweaty. I think I was going to faint.

"I love you." I said it loudly, awkwardly. I think I said it. It brought my senses around like I had.

She stopped mid-sentence and weighed my words for a long minute. "I see you mean that." She took my hand in hers and kissed it. "I won't say I don't feel the same."

She paused again.

"But there is no rule that says you can only love one person. Or that love is eternal. Or that love is not selfish. Or that love wouldn't make me want to gobble you up all the more." She smiled.

I smiled as well, but sighed. I knew. I had said something like that to someone else before. Not about the gobbling up. Nothing is eternal, and I wouldn't be satisfied with less than eternal. I wouldn't be satisfied with myself.

"Beside," she continued more loudly, as she stood back up and stretched, "you were wrong - wrong about the soul. I know what you read, and it's just paranoid xenophobia. The soul's in the breath, not the blood. You have actually seen a Stephenson image before, haven't you?"

She paused to watch my surprise, then nodded with satisfaction.

"So, maybe in 25 years or so we can go on another date. Look me up, if you still love me. I promise I'll be younger than ever, and I'll only bite if you want me to. Or if I can get you into a dark alley."

xx

Shit. Double shit.

You can't beat the system - you always pay for your sins, in one life or the next.

I had been laying in the dark for what seemed like hours. No more light streamed at the edges of the window, but Jane had turned a knob before she left, and the louvers outside the window had locked tight. It was pitch black in the room - even now my eyes hadn't adjusted to this level of dark. I couldn't see my own fingers move before my face. There was scarcely a sound to be heard, either, though occasionally I heard the dull thumps of someone walking in the hall. The first several times I thought the footsteps might be her, but I learned not to get my hopes up.

She had left me after standing up, after bemoaning that there wasn't time for my recovery - for one final game and one more costume. She had a pair of mouse ears I'd look great in, she said, but she'd just have to save those plans for another life. She was gone now to make new arrangements, and would be back in a few minutes. I had those few minutes to sleep or think or pray or whatever I liked. Then she shut the louvers and left the room. I heard the door lock behind her. So much for my own key. The lights went out a minute later.

I had fallen asleep. I remember waking up, anyway. Time lost, but it was time of which I now had plenty, apparently.

So.

I had been wrong.

Or he had been wrong, that Xenophobe, and I'd believed him. I can never remember not to trust the shortcuts, not when it counts.

This wouldn't be the end of me. There never would be.

I felt both dread and an unbidden sense of relief. I worried that there was some part of me I wasn't aware of, some part I'd kept locked up and silent, some part I hadn't convinced that I wanted to end this. Perhaps I didn't know myself as well as I thought. Perhaps I didn't want to end this - not even this one particular life. No - there was no point in keeping this one. I wasn't sure that I could back out now, not easily, not with Jane coming back any minute. I'd just thumbed the contract. I wasn't a jerk. In any case, I had nothing here to live for, now - I'd made sure of that. I might as well reset the board and throw the dice again. But now, now that I wasn't getting what I really wanted, what if it hurt too much? The biting, the bleeding, the dying. As I recalled, the only people who remembered their deaths died painfully. I'd done that a few times, too, I thought.

No... I had mostly healed bitemarks all over my body now, and the only one that had hurt was from last night – and that was probably because I'd survived it. So I was still committed to it. Next life, I would dedicate myself to the project, start off earlier, plan on hard work. No shortcuts. Maybe I would have a go at Buddhism, after all. Maybe it was worth all that extra effort of mediation and self-denial, when viewed from the perspective of an infinity of disappointing lives.

Maybe I would come back and find Jane in 25 years and spend an evening with her. But just one. Mouse ears won't be my fashion next time.

The door clicked open, and a too-bright light poured in from the short hallway leading out of the room. I squeezed my eyes shut and looked away, but when I cracked them back open, the room was completely dark again. I heard soft footpads, and several low, whispering voices. There was a casual chuckle and comment, too muted to make out, and several snickers back. At least three other voices. One of them could have been Claire's, maybe... I couldn't make out Jane. I held my breath. I heard the feet gather around the bed, and they stopped talking. For a long moment there was nothing.

Then...

There were fingers - cool fingers. They slipped under my sheets and found my body, slithered beneath my underclothes and pulled them off. Pressure pushed down the edges of the cushion, then the corners sank as bodies climbed up on the bed with me. The bed wasn't large, and within moments they were twined around me. Their skin was so smooth against my own, and even as they crawled over me, they were gentle, and their weight was never fully on me. I felt the light scratch of nailtips, the brush of nipples, the squeeze of thighs, and of course much kissing, wet kissing, with small nips and flicking tongues. They covered my body, but never came up to my head. There were four of them - I could tell as each gravitated to a wrist or ankle. They wrapped themselves around their chosen limb and kept me securely bound, though they never stopped their attentions to the soft parts of my flesh where the blood ran close the surface.

Then there was a new weight on the bed, one that settled over me. She lowered herself onto my chest and pressed a kiss on my lips - I could tell it was Jane even before her barely-audible words. "Do you have any last requests?"

I shook my head, forgetting the dark for a moment.

"In that case, I'll give you a kiss for your trip. And a truth for your love." She kissed me again, longer than I'd ever been kissed before. It was not deep, like a movie kiss, but it was passionate. It was a kiss that told me she knew who I was, really. Finally, she pulled away, or I did as I sank back into the pillow in the paralysis of complete relaxation. She put her cheek against mine and whispered, "The truth:" Then she spoke so softly I heard heronly inside my head, and even the other four paused in their leechcraft, as if straining to hear. What she said... In the pitch black, I saw.

She drew away slowly and sat back on my stomach. I heard her say something I couldn't understand to the others, then she turned herself around and settled over my face. It felt natural, like we fit together that way, like I was the softball her glove was broken in with. I begin to kiss her how she'd shown me that very first day, the way that made her squirm, and she rubbed in a circle until both she and my lips were wet. She lay down on my stomach and gripped my thighs. Surprisingly I wasn't yet hard, but it didn't matter anyway, since she held me out of the way and bit into my inner thigh.

It hurt – for the first time it really hurt - but she crossed her calves beneath my head, muffling my cry in her flesh. Despite myself I writhed, struggled to breath and scream, to tear my leg from her burning teeth, but she and the other four were stronger than I'd ever imagined - it was like fighting silk-wrapped steel. If anything, my efforts only invigorated them - I felt fangs in my wrist, in the flesh of my thumb, the heel of my foot, my calf, my inner elbow, the balls of my toes. I was hot and sticky everywhere. Only my face was cool, trapped between Jane's thighs; only my head didn't feel like it was being used to put out matches.

My struggles faded with my small reserve of strength, and so did the pain. I caught short breaths as Jane began grinding violently; she had chewed deep into what now felt like some else's leg; she was digging through the muscle with her claws, tunneling with her tongue into my veins; she was an animal in heat.

Inside my skin I felt withdrawn - shriveled like a popcorn in water - into my chest and head. I felt at once like an infant and a sage, free of the care of understanding.