The Last of the Red-Hot Vampires

I collapsed on the ground into a fetal ball, my lungs heaving as I sucked in air. Even as I rubbed my neck and welcomed oxygen to my body again, I was aware of the man standing over me, his body silhouetted against the sun. He was tall, taller than me, solidly built, with skin the color of a latte, and thick black hair that came to a widow's peak in the front. He peered upward for a moment.

"Stop that!"

"Stop what, breathing? You almost did it for me, thank you."

He glared at me as I continued to massage my neck. "Stop the rain."

If he saw the rain cloud, he couldn't be real. Then again, Sarah said she saw it too. He must have breathed in the fungus as well, triggering the same response Sarah and I had. "I would be delighted to stop that particular hallucination if I could."

"Will it away," he demanded, taking a step toward me.

I scrambled backward like a crab, braced and ready to run if he looked like he was going to attack me again. "I don't think you can will away hallucinations by just saying, 'Rain, rain, go away!'"

The small cloud over my head dissipated until nothing was left of it.

The man looked at me, one eyebrow cocked.

"This just proves it's not real," I grumbled, still watching him carefully, looking for an opportunity to run like hell.

"You are mortal?"

I frowned up at him, rubbing my neck as I got to my knees. "What do I look like, a baked potato? Of course I'm mortal."

My voice was a croak that sounded almost as bad as my throat felt.

He swore.

"If you lay so much as one finger on me again, I will scream bloody murder. My friend is just beyond the trees, and she went to great trouble to illegally smuggle pepper spray into the country."

He was about to say something, but the wind brushed past us, the hollow note more pronounced. Inexplicably, the skin on my back crawled at the sound of it.

"Portia?" Sarah's voice sounded distant, and very worried.

"Over here," I yelled, slowly getting to my feet, my eyes on the man in front of me. If he even looked like he was going to grab me again, I'd bolt.

"Portia? Did you hear that voice? Oh my god, it was awful! I don't like to hurry you, but I really think we need to get out of here." She burst through the trees, a frightened look on her face that turned to confusion when she saw the man in front of me. "Oh. I didn't realize someone else was here."

"The Hashmallim has come. Move quickly, or die," the man said, grabbing my arm and giving me a none-too-gentle shove toward the sheep pasture.

"Stop that!" I yelled, twisting out of his grip. "If you touch me once again—"

"What's going on here?" Sarah asked, stumbling as she ran down to where I'd stopped to face my attacker.

"That man tried to strangle me," I answered, pointing at him.

"He what?" She turned to glare at him. "You hurt my friend?"

"It was a misunderstanding. I did not realize she was mortal."

"What the hell else should I be?" I demanded to know.

The wind swirled around us, eerily sounding as if voices were whispering dire warnings. I shivered, despite the fact that I knew it was just the effect of the wind through the circle of trees.

"We do not have time for this," he said, stalking toward me. "If you wish to die, stay here and continue talking. If you wish to live, run!"

"Run?" Sarah asked, looking around.

Wordless voices swept past us, setting off my flight instinct. I didn't stop to analyze the situation, I just acted.

"Run!" I screamed, grabbing Sarah's arm and hauling her with me as I hurtled down the hill.

I felt the man's presence behind us as we raced down the hill, stumbling over occasional clumps of earth and rocks, but a long-buried, primal sense told me I had less to fear from him than whatever it was the wind heralded.

Sarah would have stopped by her rental car, but the man grabbed the back of my shirt and her dress, and pushed us on, toward a small shed that sat near a curve in the road. "Do not stop! Your car is within sight of the hill."

He half dragged us over a low stone wall, shoving us without any ceremony around the edge of the shed. I ran straight into the front bumper of a car, slamming onto the hood with a breath-stealing, "Ooof!"

"Get in," he ordered, opening both doors on the driver's side.

"Are you insane?" I snapped, limping over to where Sarah stood. "We are not going anywhere with you—"

I like to think of myself as reasonably able to take care of myself in dangerous situations, but the man in front of me was several inches taller than me, probably a good fifty pounds heavier, and evidently spent his spare time working out with weights, or throwing unwilling women into the backs of vehicles, because he had no difficulty in doing the latter. He tossed small, delicate Sarah into the car as if she weighed no more than a bag of grapefruit, flinging larger and more substantial me in on top of her before slamming the door behind us.

"Hey!" I yelled into Sarah's left hip.

"Oh my god, get off me. I think you're breaking my rib."