Turned By Him

“So there are others that are not vampires?” Eliza interjected.

“If by others you mean people that aren’t what you would call human,” Tom replied. “Listen, we use these words ‘magic,’ ‘power,’ ‘vampire’ and they really only mean so much. We are infected; it’s that simple.” Tom clasped his palms together. “Where to begin… do you believe me?”

Eliza was taken aback by the question. “Yes,” she lied. It wasn’t that she disbelieved him. She knew however that, in her current condition, it was unwise to get invested in some outrageous story.

“Okay, look at it like this. There are billions of people in the world and about one in one hundred is magic-folk. They look like you or me because they, all of them, once were human like you and I were once human. We use the words to explain how we react to the infection. All of us however, become what we are over time and thus cease to resemble what we once were.”

“That makes sense,” Eliza said, feeling that the statement seemed incredibly obvious. It was all she could do to resist saying ‘and thus is the nature of time passing.’

“So, in order to become a magic folk, you must die.” Tom was stern and humorless. The grave expression across his face made him seem a guilty man confessing a horrible crime. “You see Eliza. You died that night. You are barely what you will be now for you have yet to be revived. Make no mistake though, you are dead. “

Eliza was stricken. It only became more absurd. She thought back to when George was listening for her pulse. Neither of them could hear her heart beating. “I couldn’t hear my heart beat,” she confessed. “But how is it possible? How could I be dead if I’m walking around?” Eliza felt the sudden crushing awareness of Heather’s absence. If Eliza ever had a medical question, especially if it was something she didn’t wish to speak to George about, she would ask Heather.

“You can never bear children,” Tom continued mournfully, “and the world will forever become increasingly foreign to you.” Eliza stood up quickly. She didn’t want to hear any more of this. Yet when she ran her hand along the bench she knew it felt different. When she breathed in, Eliza was aware of how strong the air smelt and of the distant clamor of the city. “Please don’t go. I’m not done.” Tom pleaded, “When I’m done you may go, test what I’ve said.” Eliza sat down. She looked at him intently. She would only pretend that she believed this. When he was done, Eliza intended to get up and go to the hospital.

Tom continued. “I died 15 years ago,” he said. “I used to be a priest. Now…” his voice trailed off. “Here is what I mean,” he gestured to his eyes. “Look me in the eyes.”

Eliza begrudgingly stared him square in the eyes. As she did, she became captivated by the vibrant color of his irises. They were a brilliant and deep green. Dark like basins of jade filled with water, they seemed both close and far away. She could feel herself moving, though Eliza didn’t seem to notice much other than the commanding color of Tom’s eyes. Then, as though waking from a dream, Eliza’s body jolted. She was standing at the pools edge and looking into her own reflection. She wasn’t wearing her knit cap. Eliza did not remember how she got there. “You see,” Tom said from behind her. She turned to see him still sitting in the bench. “We are different. You must be careful now. People will try to use you. Before you’ve satisfied the sickness you are most vulnerable.”

Eliza looked at him bewildered. Had he actually hypnotized her to walk over to the pond? “Here,” Tom said holding out her knit cap, “this belongs to you.”

She approached him and took the hat. Taking the seat next to Tom, Eliza asked in a horrified voice, “What is going on?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Tom said frustrated. “I’m sorry. I’ll just be blunt. You will need to feed before the infection takes hold in your body. Until then, you will be vulnerable to others who will try their best to use you. Some will want to recruit you; others will want to feed on you.”

“And when you say ‘feed’ you mean,” Eliza asked.

“Yes,” Tom said gravely. “You will need to kill someone.”

Eliza shook her head. “No, that’s not true.”

“It will be the only time you ever have to kill anyone,” Tom said consolingly. “After the first time, the infection is satisfied and you may feed without killing.”

Suddenly Eliza had the most amazing thought. Excitedly she asked, “Does that mean Heather is okay? She’d be dead but walking and talking and…”

“No,” Tom said grievously. “I don’t know who killed your friend. But they did not turn her. No one sired the dark gift into her; I am sorry.” Eliza’s head was reeling. She didn’t know what to make of this whole scenario. On the one hand, she believed everything Tom was saying. On the other, she refused to accept that she was dead, that Heather was dead. “I will help you through this,” Tom said comfortingly. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be but there are others. Once you are ready, I will show you the world beneath the world which is filled with beautiful things. The cost to experience this world is horrendous and terrible. Yet, for all the gore and hedonism which is inevitably our culture, we still make our own choices and control our own futures.”

Eliza was in no mood for more religious speak. She respected that, if he was a crazy person, he was at lease eloquent. Eliza was not ready to trust him though. Nor would she believe the outrageous claims he made about her. She stood up quickly. “I,” Eliza began to say before a firm hand clasped around her wrist. She looked down to see Tom’s loyal stare. “Let me go or I’ll make you my first kill.” Tom immediately let go, not in fear but respect. Eliza shuffled through her bag and pulled out the gun she had picked up from her father’s storage unit. The cool steal of the 10mm semiautomatic was cool in her hand. She pointed the gun directly at Tom. He made no gesture to move. “Goodbye,” Eliza said firmly.

“Stay safe,” Tom said. “You have my number. Avoid police and officials. There are magic-folk everywhere. “

When Eliza turned, he made no motion to follow her. He stared contemplatively at the semi frozen pond as she back away from him. She took several paces backward before turning and hastily walking toward the busy plaza. As she ascended the stairs, Eliza glanced back to see the bench was empty. Tom had gone and not pursued her. Eliza returned the gun to her bag before reaching the busy sidewalk.

Eliza navigated her way through the labyrinth of Manhattans towers, apartment buildings, storefronts and churches. As she walked, she considered her hunger, or rather her lack of hunger. The afternoon sun still hurt her eyes through the thick dark glasses. Every few blocks she traversed, she considered returning to her apartment. Yet, with every thought of the small apartment, she thought of Heather and George and now even her father. Eliza’s hand fell to her purse and rested on her father’s gun. Though she refused to believe Tom, her past felt distant. Those she loved seemed gone to her forever regardless of Tom’s explanation. “Probably wouldn’t even be that bad,” Eliza said spitefully under her breath. “There’s no way death is harder than life.”

As Eliza rounded the corner of 121st and Malcolm X Blvd, Eliza felt a prickling feeling on the back of her neck. At first, it felt as though the cold was finally getting to her, raising goose bumps on her neck. After a second however, the prickling became a searing which tore across her spine. Eliza collapsed into the snow. Eliza heard the sound of feet sprinting up the sidewalk with loud thuds.