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Russell Michaels huddled at the edge of the frozen pond shivering, wondering why in the world he had ever come to Alaska in the first place. The travel brochures had all promised that if you went to Alaska, you would become the man you always wanted to be. Right now the man he always wanted to be was the one curled up in front of a blazing fireplace eating pizza and watching tv.
His stomach grumbled at the thought of food. A bear had stolen his backpack two days before leaving him nothing but the clothes on his back and a lint-covered, half-finished roll of cherry lifesavers he'd found in the pocket of his parka. He was getting pretty hungry but starvation still seemed preferable to eating the lifesavers. If only he could catch something edible.
There was a tug on his makeshift fishing line and Russell leaped forward eagerly. A small fish wiggled just below the surface, impaled on the tiny splinter of caribou antler he'd used as a fishhook. "All right." As he reached down to pull his dinner out, a white seal popped its head up through the hole beside his arm.
"Go away. This is my fish." Russell waved a hand at the beast, hoping to scare it off. Instead, the seal lunged at him, burying its fangs deep in the fleshy part of his thumb. He yelped in pain and tried to break free but the seal dived, taking his hand with it.
Russell braced himself, struggling to keep from being dragged down. "Hey, wait. I can't swim." The seal didn't seem to care. He pulled his arm back out of the water and kicked the seal in the head with his boot. It let go and dropped back below the surface. He scrambled to shore, slipping on the ice, shivering as the wind hit his wet clothing. Blood gushed from his torn hand.
Suddenly, the seal erupted from his fishing hole, bursting through the ice and undulating toward him. He held his hands up in front of him to block the onslaught. The seal took his injured thumb in its mouth again. He could feel its warm moist tongue lapping at the wound.
Russell tried to push it off but the seal pressed his head into the snow with one large flat flipper. He caught the edge of the flipper in his teeth and bit down hard. Hot liquid flowed over his tongue. Yuck. Seal blood. He grimaced and let go. The seal didn't seem to notice.
He reached back for the broken caribou antler he had been hoping to use as a cooking utensil and slashed at the seal's chest. The sharp spike cut a gash through skin and blubber. He swung the other way, cutting deeper, then plunged the antler into the creature's heart. The seal reared back, thrashing, its blood throwing decorative patterns across the snow, then collapsed in a heap at his feet.
Russell stared down at it skeptically, half-expecting it to rise from the dead. He kicked it with his boot. Nothing happened. He fell backwards into the snow with a sigh. Well, he'd wanted an adventure.
He lay there, staring up at the sky. He really ought to take care of the bite, stop the bleeding but he was feeling kind of warm and fuzzy right now and couldn't seem to work up the energy. In a minute, he would do it. He ran his tongue over his lips, tasted the salty tang of the seal blood, closed his eyes. In a minute.
"Dr. Fleishman, I think you better come take a look at this."
Joel Fleishman opened one eye. Ed Chigliak was standing beside his bed gazing down at him. It was too late to feign unconsciousness. "This better not have to do with anything I can look at after sunrise."
"I found a man up on Breakaway Ridge. I think he might be frozen."
"Frozen?" Joel sat up. "You mean frozen like dead?"
"Well, he doesn't seem to be breathing."
"Breakaway Ridge. How far away is that?" Joel jumped out of bed and grabbed a pair of pants.
"About a mile north of here."
"And you just left him there?"
"No, Dr. Fleishman, he's in there on your couch."
"On the couch?" Joel stared at Ed for a moment, then zipped up his pants and went to take a look. A young white man, probably in his twenties, lay sprawled across the sofa. His left hand had a jagged bite mark that went clear through to the other side. Dried blood covered his lips. "What do you think bit him?"
"Seal," Ed said with a nod. "Big one."
"You can tell by the teeth marks?"
"No, it was laying dead right beside him."
Joel picked up Russell's right wrist and felt for a pulse. "I don't feel a heartbeat." He pried open one eye. "Ed, could you hand me that flashlight?"
"Here you go, Dr. Fleishman."
"Thanks." Joel pointed the beam into Russell's eye. The pupil contracted. "That's strange."
"What's the matter?"
"His pupils react to the light." He tested the other eye with the same result.
"That's good, isn't it?"
"Well, ordinarily I'd say yes but when a man is not breathing and has no discernible heartbeat, his pupils aren't supposed to react to anything."
Ed brightened. "So he's not dead."
"No, he is dead, I think." Joel sat down on the couch beside the body. He picked up Russell's bitten hand and examined it. "This is quite a bite. Maybe he bled to death." He checked for a pulse again.
"Maybe we should do CPR."
Joel shook his head. "He's past CPR, Ed. I mean, he wasn't breathing when you found him and you had to carry him down the ridge. Irreparable brain damage would most certainly have occurred by now. He's gone. Loss of blood, exposure, either one could have killed him." He stood up. "Let me get my coat. We can load him into the truck and take him over to the clinic."
Everything was kind of hazy and white. Heaven. He must be in heaven. Russell reached out to touch the heavy mists before him and found them to be much solider than he had imagined. Cotton, in fact, unless he missed his guess. He threw the sheet aside and sat up. Big mistake. His head throbbed mercilessly at the sudden change of altitude and his torn hand began to ache in counterpoint. He waited for the room to stop spinning, then hazarded a look around. It appeared to be a doctor's office. But what was he doing here? The last thing he remembered was being attacked by the seal. How could he have walked anywhere without remembering doing it? And if it was a doctor's office, why hadn't they taken care of his hand? Russell swung himself off the examination table and walked carefully out into the hallway. "Hello?"
"The doctor isn't in yet," a woman"s voice replied from somewhere further along the hall. He followed the sound to a small waiting room in the front of the building. A young Indian woman, short and round, looked up from her knitting.
"Hi."
"You'll have to take a number."
"But there isn't anybody else."
"Then you'll be first."
Russell held out his hand. "I just need a bandage."
She walked over and took hold of his fingers. "Walrus?"
"Seal.
"Big for a seal." She went to the cupboard and brought out iodine and gauze.
"Don't you think it needs stitches?"
"No." She swabbed iodine over the wound. Russell flinched. She wrapped his hand in gauze. "You'll have to come back later if you want to see the doctor."
"Okay." He walked to the door. Although the sky was completely covered by clouds, the diffused sunlight hurt his eyes. He squinted out at the street. "What's the name of this place anyway?"
"Cicely."
"Cicely." He vaguely remembered seeing it on one of the maps the bear ate. At least it was inhabited. "You wouldn't happen to know where I could get a pair of sunglasses?"
"Ruth Anne's store. Across the street to the right."
"Thanks." He glanced back but she had already returned to her knitting. Russell let himself out.
Joel jumped out of his pickup and walked in the front door of the clinic. "Morning, Marilyn."
"Morning."
Joel continued on down the hall, unzipping his jacket as he went. He glanced into the examination room as he passed, stopped and went to look again. The table was empty. A rumpled sheet lay on the floor beside it. "Marilyn?" No reply. He walked back to the waiting room. "Marilyn? What happened to the man that was in here?"
"He left."
"Left? What do you mean, he left? He was a corpse, a stiff. Ed found him dead in the snow."
"He had a seal bite on his hand?"
"Yes. Yes he did."
"He left." She cast off a row. "I told him to come back later."
"You told him to come back later? Marilyn, he was dead." She shrugged and continued with her knitting. Joel stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head. "I'm going over to the Brick. If he happens to come back or anyone else arrives, could you come get me?"
"Okay," she replied, not looking particularly interested.
Joel walked down to the corner and stepped inside the bar/restaurant. After a quick glance around the room, he noticed Maggie O'Connell seated at the bar. "Hey, O'Connell."
She turned. "Fleishman. What's the matter? You look pale."
"A strange thing just happened." Joel pulled up the bar stool beside her.
"Get you something, Joel?" Holling asked, leaning over the bar.
"Just some coffee would be fine."
"Coming right up."
"So what happened, Fleishman?" Maggie prodded impatiently, her dark eyes bright with interest.
"A dead man got up and walked out of my office."
"Do tell," Holling said, placing a cup of steaming coffee in front of Joel.
"Are you sure he was dead?" Maggie looked skeptical.
"I know you doubt my abilities as a doctor, O'Connell, but I can tell the dead from the living."
"Well, where'd this person come from?" Holling pushed the sugar in Joel's direction.
"Ed found him frozen up on Breakaway Ridge. He had a big seal bite on his left hand. We put him on a table in the clinic and Marilyn says he got up and left."
"A seal bite, you say." Holling stroked his chin.
"Yeah. I don't know how a seal even got up there."
"Maybe it wasn't a seal."
"Ed saw it."
"No, Fleishman, what Holling is saying is that maybe the seal was really something else."
"What are we talking about here? Are you trying to tell me this man was bitten by a wereseal?"
"No. By a vampire."
"Vampire? Come on, O'Connell, we're talking seals here, not bats."
"A bat would freeze to death up here, Joel. Vampires have to adapt to survive."
"Holling, do you realize how crazy you two sound?" Joel laughed. "I mean, do you seriously believe Dracula's running around out on Breakaway Ridge wearing flippers and a little black cape?"
"Vampires don't wear capes anymore, Joel. That's all passé."
"They try to fit in more nowadays. Haven't you read any of Anne Rice's novels?"
"Exactly," Holling agreed.
"Those are works of fiction. I'm talking about a corpse getting off an examination table and wandering out of my office."
"Could be a zombie," Holling suggested.
Joel covered his face with one hand. "Forget it. Just forget I mentioned it."
"No need to get touchy. We were just trying to help."
Joel shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. "I should know better by now," he muttered to no one in particular.
Holling looked at Maggie and nodded knowingly. "Vampire." She smiled and nodded back
.
"Can I help you?" Ruth Anne asked, stepping up behind Russell who was standing in the center of the store looking somewhat lost.
"Have you got any sunglasses?"
"Somewhere. Not very fancy, I'm afraid, but serviceable." She glanced toward the window. "Of course, you won't be needing them until spring when the cloud cover breaks."
Ed came up the stairs from the basement, saw Russell and stood there open-mouthed. Russell smiled nervously.
"Ed, be a dear and take this man down to see the sunglasses. They're in a box by the hair care products." He continued to stare. "Ed?"
"Sure thing, Ruth Anne." He pointed toward the staircase. "Be careful. Some of the steps aren't even."
"Thanks," Russell said as he passed Ruth Anne and descended into the cool dampness of the cellar. His eyes liked it much better down here. Ed was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs.
"So you weren't dead."
"What?"
"This morning when I found you, I thought you were dead. So did Dr. Fleishman but here you are."
"Dead?" Russell repeated.
"We thought you bled to death from the seal bite."
"That explains the sheet."
Ed nodded. "Well, mistakes happen." He led the way to the sunglasses. "Here you go."
Russell fished out a pair and tried them on. "These are fine." Ed reached out to take them from him and Russell stared down at his arm, fascinated by the tangle of veins at his wrist.
"Something wrong?"
"No, nothing at all."
"Ruth Anne will ring these up for you." Ed marched back upstairs. Russell followed more slowly, disturbed by the fleeting, confusing urge to drag the young man back into the darkness.
"Ed!" Joel raced across the street and met him on the sidewalk in front of Ruth Anne's store. "You know that man, the one you brought to my house..."
"Looks great, doesn't he?"
"You've seen him?"
"He just bought a pair of sunglasses."
"Sunglasses? But it's practically night out here."
"I thought it was a little strange too, then I thought well, maybe he's going back up into the hills. The snow can be pretty bright up there."
"So he didn't seem to have any lingering effects? No unsteady gait, no slurred speech patterns?"
"Nope."
"Do you know where he went?"
"Sorry, Dr. Fleishman. I wasn't paying attention." He held up his hand. "Well, I've got to make a delivery."
"Okay, Ed, thanks," Joel replied, distracted. He checked both ways down the street but there was no sign of the stranger. He shook his head and went back to the clinic.
Russell wandered away from town searching for someplace dark and safe like Ruth Anne's cellar. He couldn't explain the feeling he had gotten down there, he'd never had a particular liking for damp, underlit basements before, but the cold and the darkness seemed good to him now.
He found a small, abandoned trapper's cabin just beyond the outskirts of Cicely. There wasn't much inside, just a rusted old cot and two musty blankets. He used one blanket to block the dim daylight coming through the solitary window, then wrapped the other around himself and curled up on the cot. As he lay there, huddled in a dirty blanket, he listened to the creak of the cabin's old boards warming in the sunlight, the scratching of a mouse in the old fireplace and the disturbing silence where his heartbeat should be.
He sensed the night rather than saw it. It spoke to him somehow, shaking him free of his nightmares of seals and death. And he was hungry, more hungry than he ever thought he could be. He flung the blanket aside and sat up. He'd have to go back to town. There was no food in the cabin.
As he trudged through the snow, he heard the soft shush-shushing of a man on skis. Russell turned around, instantly alert. A tall stubble-faced man in a stocking cap was making his way through the deeper snow down below.
Follow him. It was more a command than a thought. But why follow him? The man was going away from town. He watched the stranger from his higher vantage point, safely hidden behind a stand of trees, a curious sort of excitement rising in him. He had to get closer, had to... what? Stop him? Keep him from going away?
Russell crept after, stalking him silently. He could smell him now, a warm smell of sweat and old clothing. His stomach gnawed at itself. He swallowed hard. What was it he wanted to do to this man? His body seemed to know better than his mind and he let it find its own way, his brain stumbling blindly along behind. Suddenly, he was leaping from the cover of a cedar tree, grabbing the man from behind, sinking his teeth into the side of the man's neck.
"What do you think you're doing? Are you biting me on the neck? Who the hell do you think you are? Count Dracula?" Adam caught him by the back of his jacket and flung him off.
Russell covered his aching mouth with one hand. "You almost pulled my teeth out."
"Well maybe that'll teach you to keep them out of other people's throats." Adam rubbed his hand over the wound on his neck. "Do I jump out from behind trees and attack you?"
"Well, no."
"Then why the hell should I have to put up with it? You want to bite someone on the neck? You go down into town and find someone else because I won't stand for it. I've killed better vampires than you with my bare hands."
"I'm not a vampire."
Adam looked upwards in exasperation. "You're not a vampire," he repeated.
"No, I... I was just..."
"Look, I don't really care what you were I... I... just.. just... Just keep it away from me. Capeece?"
Russell got to his feet. "Yes, sir."
"Hopeless. Utterly hopeless. Why do I bother?" Adam appealed to the sky as he continued on his way.
Russell stared after him. Vampire? Was he really a vampire? He stuck his thumb into his mouth and ran it along the bottoms of his upper teeth, stopping short when he reached a fang. That was new. And sharp. And vampire-like. And he was still very hungry.
Something crashed through the bushes behind him. He spun around and stared into the imposing face of a large bull moose. It snorted and hot steam hit him in the face. He should have been afraid but he was beyond fear now. There was only hunger. A huge vein pulsed in the moose's front leg. He lunged forward and sank his fangs into it. Hot blood spurted into his mouth, his entire body tingling at the taste of it.
The moose bellowed in pain and hooked an antler into him, prying him loose and flinging him back into the snow. Russell dragged an arm across his mouth, circling back around, unwilling to be deprived of something he needed so desperately. The moose pawed the ground, tossing ice into the air, then lowered its head and charged. Russell leaped aside, the fresh blood scent from the open wound overwhelming him as the animal passed. He grabbed hold of a hind leg, breaking the huge creature's rhythm. It stumbled, falling to its knees in the snow.
Russell dived for its neck, tearing through the thick hide into the artery beneath. The moose struggled to stand. Geysers of blood shot from the torn throat, spraying his clothes and the snow around their flailing bodies. This is what he needed, what he had to have. He put his mouth to the wound and drank.
With a loud grunt, the moose shook free of him again and stood, bleeding but defiant. Russell scrambled to his feet. "No." He grabbed hold of the closest antler, dragging the moose's head down, bringing the fountain of blood back within reach. The animal struggled weakly, its strength spilling out into the snow.
He drank until he was satisfied, long after the moose had collapsed beside him, taking all the blood there was to take, then sat back against a log. His body was calm and contented, purring like a well-fed cat, but his mind, slowly recovering from the passion of the kill, cringed at the carnage. What had he done? He wiped at the blood on his face, gazed wide-eyed at his gory hands. All that blood. He didn't want it to be true, didn't want to be what he feared he had become, but there was the taste of blood in his mouth and a dead moose sprawled on the ground before him.
Russell washed his face and hands in melted snow water, cleansing away all traces of red. He started away from the place, uncertain where to go or what to do, turning back toward town for whatever comfort it might give him, unaware of the person watching him from a little higher up on the rise.
Somehow he ended up at the Brick. He let himself inside, comforted by the warmth and the light. Holling looked up from the bar.
"Howdy, stranger. What can I do for you?"
"Have you got a phone?"
Holling pointed. "Right over there."
"Thanks.'' Russell smiled weakly and walked to the back of the room, weaving his way through tables of laughing, talking customers. An ancient payphone hung in the far corner, the wall around it covered with scribbled telephone numbers. He fished a quarter out of his pocket, fed it into the slot and punched in his twin sister's number. The operator came on. "Yeah, I'd like to make a collect call to Randi. It's from Russell. Thanks."
He rubbed his hand up and down the phone cord nervously and glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone was paying any attention to him. They didn't seem to be. He paced back and forth, waiting.
"Hello? Russell?"
"Hi, sis."
"How's the great Yukon adventure going?"
Russell leaned up against the wall. "Not so good. A bear ate my backpack, I got bitten by a seal...."
"But you're okay?"
"I may be gone a little longer than I thought."
"Do you need money?"
Russell gave a small rueful laugh. "Money won't help me."
"Russell, what's wrong?"
He glanced around again, lowering his voice and cupping his hand around the receiver. "I think I'm a vampire."
"You're a what?"
"A vampire. I'm not sure how. I was bitten by a seal and..."
"A seal? Russell, you're not making any sense. Maybe it's just the cold."
"Damn it, Randi, I tore the throat out of a bull moose with my teeth."
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. "Sounds like something I would do."
"Yeah but I wasn't a wolf." He closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm a little scared right now."
"I'll come up."
"No. I've got to figure this out for myself. Just, if you don't hear from me again, I love you, okay?"
"Russell? Wait, Russell, where are you?"
"Bye, Randi." He dropped the handset back into the cradle.
Randi Michaels held the phone for a few moments longer, then slowly hung it up. She sighed and sank down onto the couch beside Ian.
"So how is our intrepid hero doing?"
"He got bitten by a seal," she said softly. "I guess there were some major consequences."
"What? Rabies, tetanus, gangrene?"
"Fangs."
"What?"
Randi shook her head and snuggled closer to him. "Nothing."
"Maybe you should go to him."
"I don't have the slightest idea where he is."
Russell returned to the trapper's cabin, anxious to shut himself away from the world. He opened the door, walked in and shoved it closed. A match flared in the darkness, lighting a stubby gray candle melted to a small shelf on the far wall. A man stood there watching him intently with bright green eyes. He was handsome and young and wore his dark hair pulled back in a small ponytail.
"Don't be afraid. I am the same as you are." He motioned for Russell to sit down on the bed. Russell remained by the door. "I saw you try to take that man out in the snow. Was he your first?"
"Who are you?"
"You may call me Louis."
"What do you want?"
He shrugged. "I came to see the place where the nights are six months long, but the weather is too cold for my taste." He smiled. "I was making plans to leave here when I saw you struggling with that man in the snow. At first, I took it to be merely a fight, but when you tried to open his neck, I thought perhaps my journey hadn't been in vain after all." He sat on the edge of the bed. "You'll find eternity to be a very lonely place."
Russell circled around him, sat on the far end of the cot. "So you're here to keep me company?"
Louis shrugged again. "If that's what you want." He leaned forward. "But mostly to offer you this advice. You're in serious trouble already. This town's too small to hunt in. People know their neighbors. People notice strangers." He picked absently at the blanket. "The man I killed will be missed. The man you let escape will blame you."
"You set me up."
"No, I killed before I found you." He hesitated. "We could leave together tomorrow."
"You can leave alone right now."
Louis stood. "If you reconsider, look for me beside the tavern in the village tomorrow night. And don't let any mortals see you."
Then he was gone so quickly that Russell didn't see him leave, just heard the click as the door settled back onto the latch. He shivered. Something about the other vampire's presence disturbed him. Maybe he hadn't been dead long enough to lose his fear of supernatural beings. Dead long enough. He shuddered and climbed under the ancient blanket. It was all too confusing tonight. He lay in the flickering light of the candle, longing for sleep.
A raccoon had come through the window while he slept, scavenging for scraps. He'd awoke to find it sitting on his chest, staring down at him with bright black eyes, possibly considering him for a meal of its own, but he was faster. The fur was rank and tickled his lips but the blood... the blood was something else entirely. His body rejoiced at each warm swallow, though there was an extremely unpleasant aftertaste that his old self would have rejected immediately. This thing he was now craved it anyway, bad taste and all.
Russell set the limp furry body aside and sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He felt the rough texture of the gauze brushing across his face and he glanced down at the dirty, blood-caked bandage. Gingerly, he picked it loose and unwrapped his wound. The bite was gone. Healed entirely. There was more to this vampire stuff than he thought. He glanced over at the gray puddle that had once been a candle and wondered if Louis would really be waiting for him in town. Obviously there were a few more things he needed to know.
He made his way back to the Brick, careful not to be seen, keeping to the shadows. Hiding seemed easier somehow as if he'd suddenly acquired a talent for blending into the walls. It might have been fun if he hadn't realized that this new trick had a much more serious purpose.
Louis wasn't there. At least, not anywhere Russell could see him. Of course, what did he expect? That the vampire would be standing out on the street corner waiting for him? Maybe he was around back. Russell crept along the side of the bar.
A hand grabbed him by the throat and pulled him around the corner of the building. Russell found himself face to face with a blond-haired man with intense grey eyes. The vampire held him a moment longer, studying him carefully, then released his grip.
"You're not Louis."
"Neither are you."
The blond man looked him up and down. "Did he make you?"
"Did he what?"
"Who was the one who made you what you are?"
"A seal."
"A seal?" The blond vampire frowned as if he suspected he was being made fun of.
"Who are you?"
"You don't know? Louis didn't tell you his whole sad story?"
"I threw him out."
"You threw him out?" The stranger grinned, revealing sharp fangs. "I like you already." He draped an arm around Russell's shoulders. "I am Lestat. And you are?"
"Russell."
"Russell who received the Dark Gift from the mouth of a seal." Lestat laughed.
"Look, I don't know much about this vampire stuff. It just happened. I was hoping Louis could tell me...."
"Forget Louis. He knows less about being a vampire than you do." He studied Russell's face. "You look hungry. Have you eaten?"
"I bit a raccoon."
Lestat grimaced. "And it was?"
"Kind of nasty."
"I can well imagine." He patted Russell on the chest. "We need to get you away from here. Somewhere you can do some real hunting. Come with me to Anchorage. I'll show you what being a vampire should be like."
"You mean killing people?"
"That is the best sport of all. And the blood... finer than the finest wine."
"I don't think I could kill anyone."
"Now you sound like Louis. Do you want to drink raccoon blood until the end of time?"
"No."
Lestat stretched out his hand. "Then come with me."
"But what about Louis? I was supposed to meet him here."
"He won't come if he knows you're with me. An old misunderstanding. He knows I followed him here from New Orleans. It was curiosity, I suppose. I mean, why does a vampire come to Alaska, anyway?"
"Long nights, Russell replied."
Lestat considered a moment, then shook his head. "Let him do as he likes. You and I are destined for greater things." He leaned closer to Russell's ear. "I have secured a pilot, a woman, to take me to Anchorage tonight. Come with me, Russell."
"Can you teach me what I need to know? There must be more than just drinking blood."
"Much, much more and it's waiting in Anchorage." He smiled. "Our ride awaits. I was on my way to meet her now." He gestured toward the Brick. "She's inside. Waiting."
"Is it safe to go in there?"
"You're a vampire now. It's safe to go anywhere but into the sunlight. Come along." Russell followed apprehensively.
No one looked up as Lestat led Russell into the bar. He glanced quickly around the room, his gaze finally settling on Maggie who sat sipping coffee at the bar. With a quick look back to make sure Russell was still following, he crossed over to her.
"Miss O'Connell?"
Maggie jumped to her feet. "Oh, hi." She smiled at Russell. "Who's your friend?"
"This is Russell. He'll be coming with us."
"I'll have to charge you a little more...."
"Price is not important." He waved it off with one hand. "Just put it on my bill."
"I haven't got any money," Russell whispered.
"We'll work it out later," Lestat replied.
"Hey!" All three turned at the sound of the shout. Joel sprang up from his table at the back of the room and hurried toward them. He grabbed Russell by the arm. "Where have you been?"
"Been?" Russell asked weakly.
"Fleishman." Maggie tried to pull him away, obviously embarrassed.
"O'Connell, this is him."
"Who?"
"The dead patient."
"Dead patient?" Lestat repeated.
"Him?" Maggie laughed. "He's your vampire?"
"Vampire?" Lestat folded his arms and looked vaguely uncomfortable.
"I never said he was a vampire. You said he was a vampire. I only said he was dead."
Maggie pointed at Russell. "He doesn't look dead to me."
"Well, no, I'd have to say that at the moment, he appears to be in excellent condition, but that does not change the fact that when Ed brought him to me, he was not alive."
"How can he be dead then and alive now and not be a vampire?"
"There's no such thing as a vampire!"
"But dead patients do get up and walk out of doctor's offices by themselves?"
"Well, not usually, no."
"So you do believe in animated corpses but not vampires?"
"O'Connell, don't be difficult."
"Difficult? I'm being difficult? You're the one who won't believe in vampires."
"Vampires?" Chris Stevens sauntered up behind Joel, interest glittering in his intense eyes. "The undead, Nosferatu, Dracula, immortal beings feasting on the fresh hot blood of the living?" He stared at Russell. "This guy here drinks human sangria?"
"I don't, actually." Russell smiled nervously.
"What a kick, huh? Living for centuries, watching history, becoming history, seeing things that we mere mortals can only dream of."
"Just imagine," Lestat said.
"Yeah, I could get into that fang action. Just a little nibble on the neck and bam, eternal life. Of course, the night thing would be a drag." He laughed. "No more 'Chris in the Morning' for me."
"He's not a vampire," Joel shouted.
Chris leaned closer to Russell. "He's got fangs."
"Chris, don't encourage her."
"Fleishman, if you're through harassing my customers, I've got to make a flight to Anchorage."
Lestat glanced at his watch. "I've got a very strict deadline."
Chris tilted his head to one side, gazing into Lestat's mouth as he talked. "You've got fangs too."
Joel sighed, exasperated. "Chris."
"Hey, far be it from me to judge the lifestyles of others. I say, if you want to be vampires, be vampires."
"There are no vampires, Chris. There have never been any vampires except in bad movies and cheap novels. These men are not vampires."
Maggie nodded. "One of them just happens to be dead."
Chris looked solemn. "That's cool. I respect death."
"I can't believe I'm hearing this." Joel threw up his hands and turned away.
"Neither can I," Lestat agreed.
"I apologize for all of this." Maggie smiled and herded Lestat and Russell toward the door. "Fleishman's usually not quite this weird."
"Hey, mi casket es su casket," Chris called after them. He laughed and turned back to the bar. "Vampires. What a trip. Hey, Holling, gimme another beer."
As they walked outside into the cold, an ancient white-haired Indian man stepped toward them as if he had been waiting for them to arrive. Maggie broke into a smile. "Charlie Nightwalker! I haven't seen you in months."
"Evening, Maggie. I've been in the mountains communing with the old ones."
She waved a hand at Lestat and Russell. "This is Mr. Lioncourt and his friend, ummm...."
"Russell Michaels," Russell supplied quickly, offering his hand.
"Ahh," the old man nodded. "You're the one."
"Which one?" Lestat asked.
"The one I seek." He fixed his eyes on Russell. "You must come with me."
"No, he's going to Anchorage with me."
Nightwalker turned his gaze to Lestat. "You don't have what he needs."
"Charlie is a shaman. He's usually right about these things." Maggie looked from Lestat to Russell. "Maybe you better stay."
Lestat glared at the medicine man. "This is ridiculous. What could you possibly know about his needs?"
Nightwalker ignored him, looking instead at Russell. "You must come," he said softly, then turned and walked away.
Russell stared after him, confused. Something in him whispered that perhaps the old man was right, perhaps he did know what he needed. But Lestat was a vampire and he needed to learn everything about vampires that he could. He looked from one to the other, torn by indecision.
Lestat took his arm. "Ignore him. He doesn't know what he's talking about."
"But what if he does?" The feeling that he should go with the other man grew stronger, almost as if the shaman were calling his name. He stared down the street at the white-haired figure disappearing into the darkness. "I think maybe I'd better go with him."
"What? You'd leave me for that withered old man? I can teach you more than ten of him could."
He did hear his name, clearly and distinctly, though no one had spoken it. "I have to go." Russell gave a quick smile to Maggie, then raced off after Nightwalker.
"Well, I guess it's just you and me again," Maggie said. "Oh, and I have one other passenger, Pointe Du Lac I think his name is." She shrugged. "Something French like that."
"Louis?" Lestat replied, obviously intrigued. "Well, this could be a very interesting flight after all."
"It will be a very late flight if we don't get going."
Lestat glanced after Russell, shrugged, then gestured for her to move on. "Yes, very interesting indeed."
Russell slipped and sloshed through the snowy street. He caught up with the shaman and fell into step beside him. "You know what I am, don't you?"
"Yes."
"But why couldn't I go with Lestat? He's like me."
"No, he is not. His kind is not the same as our kind."
"Our kind?" Russell stared at him. Nightwalker smiled and gave a small nod.
"Our kind. He kills, we do not. He comes from a place where life is plentiful and cheap. Here, life is very precious. We take what we need but we leave the life. That is our way."
Russell grabbed his arm. "But I've killed. I killed the raccoon and the moose." His expression grew more tortured. "And I killed the seal."
Nightwalker smiled. "Not quite." He patted Russell's hand comfortingly. "But I took your life and for that, I must make amends. It was not my intention but neither of us was in a position to do anything about it. I ask your forgiveness."
"I should apologize to you. I stabbed you in the chest."
"You were frightened. I had been on a fast. It was a bad combination. We will speak no more of it."
"But...."
The old man shook his head. "The past is the past. We must move on from here. Where have you been staying?"
"In an old cabin outside of town."
Nightwalker nodded. "That will do. Take me there."
Russell built a little fire in the old fireplace. They sat on the floor beside it, the flickering flames throwing strange shadows around the room. And Nightwalker told him the ways of snow vampires, how to feed and not kill, how to walk in the snow and leave no tracks, how to survive the long, long days of summer by burrowing into the ground as a lemming and digging a man-sized hole to sleep in until winter returned. There were so many things that Russell wished he could write them all down but Nightwalker repeated the important parts, taught him little rhymes to help him remember others. The old man's words comforted him. He wouldn't have to kill anyone after all. He could still be Russell and a vampire as well.
"You must remember that you are not a monster. You are a creature like the bear or the wolf, a creature who hunts, and there is no shame in being a hunter. Treat those who feed you with respect. Your need for life is no greater than theirs."
Russell turned to look at the crumpled body of the raccoon. "What about the ones I killed?"
"The moose has gone to feed many others." Nightwalker nodded to the raccoon. "But you should bury this one, then both your spirits will be at peace."
Russell gently picked up the still body and wrapped it in one of the old blankets. He carried it outside and dug a deep hole in the snow beneath a huge cedar tree. The old man watched and chanted softly in a language Russell didn't understand as he laid the small furry corpse into the grave. He straightened up and waited for Nightwalker to finish his song.
"Cover him now. He is at rest." He turned back toward the cabin. "I will wait for you inside."
Russell pushed the snow back into the grave, then smoothed it flat. An owl hooted in the darkness. Somewhere another animal, perhaps a wolf, trotted lightly across the snow. He stood, taking it all in, the trees, the stars, the whole wilderness around him. It wasn't strange now, wasn't frightening, it was where he belonged. Russell smiled. Maybe he had found himself after all.