May Chapter 2

“Honey, we’re home.”

Polly stepped over the threshold and nudged the door closed with her shoulder. Kicking empty bottles, boxes, and other single-girl detrius aside, she made her way to the sofa and gently deposited her burden on the red and white plastic. Continuing her one-sided conversation, the young vampire sat down, grabbed the remote, and began channel surfing.

“So, how was your day?”

“Mugged? Well, that sucks! Anything else interesting happen?”

“Yeah, I wondered why you weren’t at work today...Family emergency? Heartbreak? You finally snapped and went all ‘Nightmare on Elm Street’ on some poor bastard?”

Polly reached over and nudged May slightly. “Wake up, pretty lady.” Nothing happened.

With a snort, the brunette said, “Okie-dokie. Let me know if you’re planning to regain consciousness sometime this year.” She slid off the sofa and examined the objects she’d found next to her bleeding lover. The two scalpels were covered in blood, presumably from the punks she’d seen limping away from the area; Polly licked the flat of one blade and tasted alcohol in the vital liquid. She rolled her eyes.

Those kids probably had less than no idea what they were doing. Idiots.

Plopping down on the carpet, she began to examine the unconscious girl’s wounds. They were still healing, the angry red color of the scabs dulling to a dusky burgundy. Even the nearly-fatal gash on May’s wrist was now only a puckered scar, and soon not even that would remain to mark her brush with death.

An inexplicable anger surged in Polly as she gazed at the multitude of cuts. Wimps too, if they couldn’t rob a 5’1”, 100-pound girl without using her as a pincushion. She stroked the long, reddish-brown waves of May’s hair lightly and regarded her with a small smile.

“You’ll be okay,” she said with a chuckle. May remained silent and unmoving, but Polly wasn’t worried. Probably just the soporific chemical in the vampire blood keeping her out, a totally normal occurance during the change. Polly herself remembered the numbness, the state of utter non-being as her body had become more than human. Or perhaps “non-remembered” would be a better word.

She giggled and squirmed out of her black pleather jacket, tossing it giddily over the sofa. Non-remembered. Was that even a word? Was it even a thing? If not, it should be.

“Maybe I’ll write in to ol’ Webster tomorrow. ‘Put non-remember in the dictionary right now, or I’ll...I’ll...’” Polly’s words faltered, and she dimly remembered the cosmopolitans she’d given Ambrosia. How many had the prostitute downed?
Another giggle escaped her lips. “Enough to be pretty damn smashed. So now it’s kicking in. Whoo! Party at Polly’s crib to-NIGHT!”

“Too bad you’re gonna miss it, baby,” she added, kissing May’s forehead. “I’ll tell you all the good parts tomorrow.”

With that, the still-sniggering vampire stumbled down the hall (removing her t-shirt as she went) and into her room, then collapsed on the bed.

******
May was not there.

May was not anywhere. It was a nice feeling, or rather not-feeling; she simply wasn’t and all the things she had done could not catch up to her here. To stay like this forever would be better than going back.

This comforting blackness washed the blood from her hands. But something was wrong

A faint itch was growing in her arm. Its area widened and it intensified into a burn. The burn spread and swelled...

Then pain ripped her body apart.

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, but this was not her wonderful non-existance. Still engulfed in blackness, May had been thrust back into her mind and could feel the world around her. She was lying on plastic, which was fast becoming sticky with sweat as she writhed; a cool breeze told her that wherever she was had air conditioning, but it did her little good.

The fire was not fire now, but pure pain, as acute as anything May had ever inflicted on herself. Every nerve in her body screamed that something was, indeed, horribly wrong.

Her lungs cleared for a split second, and a scream of desperation burst from her throat. Then she choked again and began to cough. She could hear again, but that did nothing to shake the stabbing, shattering pain.

Something scuffled. The sound was a few yards away, but coming closer. When May heard the sounds of a person fumbling with cloth, she tried to scream again, but only managed to eke out a slight shriek and more coughing.

“Shit, shit,” the voice said, and now it was right in front of her. She recognized it immediately; so she was in Polly’s house. It explained the now sweat-soaked plastic she was lying on.

Polly...

May was once again unable to think as the pain got worse. She clawed blindly, frantically at the side of the sofa, her own limbs, or anything that came within reach of her fingers. Still struggling for air, she let out more gagging coughs and the occasional gasp.

Now Polly’s hands were at her wrists, restraining her. Some part of her mind dimly wondered if the girl had been this strong before, but the thought was snuffed out as Polly began to speak.

“Listen to me, May. Hold on; don’t...no...don’t you DARE slip away! This is gonna hurt, but you have to hold on no matter what happens, okay? I’ll explain it later. Sorry.”

Then a new, less insistent pain blossomed in May’s neck. Some kind of sharp object was sinking into her jugular, and almost immediately afterward a stinging, pulling sensation began in the same area.

Unexpectedly, the hellish agony began to fade as the lesser pain continued. May felt herself gradually slipping back into nothing; the blackness that healed all wounds.

******

As “Dancing With the Stars” blared away on the television, Polly wondered many things. Had she done right? What would teaching a newbie be like? Would May’s personality change? Should she really have bought dry cat food instead of canned last week?

Speak of the fuzzy devil, she thought as she bent down to pat the purring feline that was rubbing itself against her legs. A realization struck her, and she picked Crazy up. “I think you should go stay with Aunt Tricia for a while.”

Polly stood, wobbling slightly on her high-heeled maribou slippers, and carried her cat into the laundry room. She balanced Crazy with one hand and undid the catch on a large plastic cat carrier with the other; with many yowling protests, the calico found himself confined to padded box.

“Sorry, but I don’t feel like having my psycho girlfriend drain you when she wakes up. She’ll be pretty thirsty, see.”

Crazy made it known that he did not approve of Polly’s reasoning.

“Yeah, well, tough luck, little guy. I left her alone with Loopy for two days and next thing I know he shows up in the autopsy room. And that was before she was a vampire!”

This dialogue was rudely interrupted by a loud THUD from the living room, which was followed by a slight squeal. Polly’s eyes lit up.

“Gotta go, fuzzbutt! I’ll call Trish later.” With that, the vampire speed-walked from the room, her heels clicking against the linoleum floor.

There was a large lump on the off-white carped in the living room. The lump was partially covered in red-brown hair and was wearing a torn burgundy dress. That was good.

It was breathing, which was even better.

“May? Baby?” Polly asked tentatively.

The lump’s head snapped up, revealing it to indeed be May. But something was different about her; not her physical appearance, but something else. It took Polly a few seconds to realize what it was.

May no longer looked human, at least, not to her. She had that faint aura around her of being simultaneously dangerous and welcoming; the older vampire was torn between shifting into a defensive stance and giving the newbie a hug. In short, May looked like a vampire.

If that wasn’t enough to mark her, the first words out of her mouth cleared any doubt from Polly’s mind.

“I need blood.”

Polly bit her lip, swallowed nervously...and then smiled.

“Of course you do! Come with me.”