the same time knew she could not let Benny’s life slip away from him, to be soaked into the hard wooden floor. But to give the blood without his direct request was against all she’d been taught.
Which would be the worse transgression?
Gilda put her lips to the wound in Benny’s chest, where the blood had pooled. She took his blood into her mouth and listened for his needs. His mind was full of many people he wanted to help. Pictures of people, of towns, of the Evergreen were lit inside Gilda like reflections from a mirror ball. A fascinating dizziness pulled Gilda closer to Benny’s mind. Lydia was deep inside his dreams, too, and it was as she’d said: as a sister.
The most urgent image inside Benny was his love of Morris. Gilda was startled that she hadn’t realized it earlier. Their bond had grown out of a mutual care for the colored people of their town. Without the guarded protection they both maintained in public, the kinship and desire between them was unmistakable. The two men were partners in business and in life. There was little time left, but Benny’s thoughts kaleidoscoped through her mind like spokes on a wheel. This was a family. They had work to do. Benny’s thoughts were filled with an array of faces, although his body was almost still under her hands. She could not ignore the tie that held so many together.
Gilda let herself feel rather than think about what was coming. She would give him her blood and he would survive. Benny, Morris, and Lydia would know what she was. She would have to explain the life of the blood. If he desired it, Benny could go on with his life, fully recovered, and reject that preternatural life. When the hunger came on him, he could fight as if it were a drug, until it subsided, then dissipated completely.
But Benny might also decide to live with the blood. He would have the right to ask Gilda to share with him twice again until he was strong, and she would teach him about their life as Bird had taught her. She could not guess which path he would choose. Only in the moments and years to come would Gilda know the meaning of her decision.
She could feel Lydia staring down at her. With the hard nail of her small finger, Gilda cut the skin on her wrist smoothly and held it to Benny’s mouth. At first, the blood just washed down his face. She tilted his head back so his mouth would open. He began to take the blood in and Gilda felt life slowly return to his body. His eyes fluttered, then filled with confusion and relief.
Lydia’s eyes showed both her gratefulness and bewilderment when Gilda looked up, Benny’s warm blood staining her face and clothes. The door to the flat slammed shut and they heard Morris running.
“Benny,” he bellowed as he came. Their life together had seemed about to end when he’d gone to the front of the flat to help the shocked guests leave. His anguish was carried in the tears that ran down his face onto his blood-splattered shirt. He stopped abruptly when he saw Lydia smiling. Incredulous, he looked down at Benny, whose eyes were open and had regained their focus.
A familiar vitality pulsed through Benny’s body as Gilda cradled him in her arms. She sensed they would be spending much time together in the coming months.
“He’s all right, Morris,” Lydia said, as if she knew it was true even though she wasn’t exactly sure why. Her voice was full of joy like her songs.
RENEWAL
Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
Chelsea Quinn Yarbro was honored with a Lifetime Achievement Award by the World Fantasy Convention in 2014. She received a Bram Stoker Lifetime Achievement Award in 2009, and was the first woman to be named a Living Legend by the International Horror Guild (2006). Yarbro was named as Grand Master of the World Horror Convention in 2003. She is the recipient of the Fine Foundation Award for Literary Achievement (1993) and (along with Fred Saberhagen) was awarded the Knightly Order of the Brasov Citadel by the Transylvanian Society of Dracula in 1997. She has been nominated for the Edgar, World Fantasy, and Bram Stoker awards and was the first female president of the Horror Writers Association. The author of scores of novels in many genres, her manuscripts are being archived at Bowling Green University.
As noted in the introduction, Yarbro’s contribution to the