Teeth_ Vampire Tales - Ellen Datlow [36]
“All those multiplying white cells,” Boris said, “can put a real bounce in a vampire’s step. We wouldn’t love you half so much if your blood was normal.”
Lenka tried to tug her hand out of Dusan’s grip. It was like pulling against handcuffs. “Well, it is. I mean, remission, remember? I told you when I came.”
Rima bent and stroked her cheek, a touch like falling snow. “Nice try. But you are not in remission.”
As Lenka stared at her, stunned, Dusan lifted her wrist to his mouth, delicately nicked the flesh with a sharp canines, and licked the resulting drops of blood from her skin. “Delicious,” he said.
“If you don’t like hysterics,” she said shakily, “then you should all get out now, because I am about to seriously lose it, and I think you’d have to kill me to make me shut up.”
The office truck remained closed and silent all the next day, the door locked and the shades drawn. Carmen sold tickets from a table by the bar and flirted coolly with the bartender. The house was good, the applause enthusiastic, the chatter overheard during the blow-off promising. When Madam Oksana counted the take, she said she thought they’d be able to order new costumes soon, maybe even a desktop computer.
“It will do you no good,” Rima pointed out, “if Lenka goes mad with shock.”
Madam Oksana shrugged. “Then we will not buy computer.”
The next day, Boris eyed the silent office and wondered aloud whether he should break down the door to check if the mortal was still alive.
“She does not want to die, that one,” Madam Oksana said. “Leave her alone.”
The next night, another sold-out show. Townies gathered at the back door in hopes of a smile, a word, maybe even a date with one of the performers. Carmen and Evzen fed on something tastier than rat blood. The office trailer stayed locked and silent.
* * *
The next evening, after the last show, Lenka washed, put Rima’s dress on over her jeans, braided her dark hair, and went to the tent, where she found Horace and Carmen and Madam Oksana.
“I want to talk to you.”
Three pairs of eyes examined her gravely. The whites looked red, as if they were all suffering from a bad case of pinkeye. Lenka wondered why she hadn’t noticed it before.
Madam Oksana beckoned her closer.
“No, I want to talk to all of you. I’m only going through this once.”
Madam Oksana shrugged and closed her eyes briefly. Lenka heard a flutter, and three bats swooped down from among the lights, transforming as they landed. A calico cat snaked between the stage curtains and became Rima. The big gray tom that was Boris leapt smoothly onto the ring, his muzzle dark with blood, and settled down to a leisurely bath.
“We are all here,” Madam Oksana said. “Speak.”
Lenka licked her lips. “I’ve done a lot of thinking since the other night, and I’ve made some decisions. First, I’m totally okay with the whole vampire thing. I mean, you’re awesome performers and it’s not like you go around killing people all the time—”
“Not on purpose,” Evzen murmured.
“Or very often, or somebody would have noticed. Anyway. I wouldn’t turn you in, even if I left, which, before you start telling me how I don’t have a choice, I actually do.”
She glared around at the assembled vampires, challenging one of them to argue. They gazed back, patient and incurious.
“I said in Cleveland I wanted to join you. I still do. Make me a full member of the troupe—make me a vampire—and I’ll stay.”
“Or else?” Kazimir prompted.
“Or else I’ll erase all my files, the bookkeeping program I set up, all the contacts in all the towns where you’ve got gigs, all the permit numbers—everything.”
Evzen shrugged. “We will keep you away from the computer.”
“You don’t even know how to turn it on,” Lenka said. “All you know how to do is search YouTube, and that’s not going to get you very far when some policeman in Utah wants to see your paperwork. You can’t figure out anything new by yourselves. You know how to do what you did when you . . . became