Vampires Never Get Old - Zoraida Cordova Page 0,58
when she wanted to, where the thirst wasn’t drying her to a husk.
And because she sat there far too long, they came. The girls. Five of them, stumbling through Grant Park, a gaggle of teased hair and short skirts, pleather shit-kickers and crappy tattoos. Jude’s heart ached along with her stomach. Not so long ago, she might have been one of them, lost and lonely, declaring herself a bad seed before anyone else could do it first.
“The fuck you looking at, bitch?” said the leader, a big, solid girl with white skin and striped hair.
“The stars,” said Jude. “You?”
“Listen to this one,” the stout girl said. “What are you smoking? You got weed for us? You got candy?” The girl inched closer, pulled in by Jude’s thirst.
Jude licked her dry lips. “You should go home, if you have one.”
The girl spread her arms, “This whole city is our home. Maybe you should go.”
Jude had thought about leaving so many times. But where would she go? And who would take care of Lolo and Olive and Nell and the others? Who would watch over Diwata? The world might be dying, but shouldn’t she stay around, even if the only thing she could do was to ease the pain a little?
“Hey! I’m talking to you,” the stout girl said. The other four girls crowded behind her with a chorus of “Yeah, bitch” and “We’re talking to you, bitch.”
“I’m not smoking anything, and I don’t have candy for you,” said Jude.
The stout girl laughed a stout laugh, sidled nearer. “What about that phone in your pocket? Someone will pay a few bucks for that.” She was so close now that Jude could have traced the lines of her muscled thighs, thick and firm under fishnet stockings. The pulse quickened at the girl’s white neck, the blood beckoning from beneath the skin.
“Really,” said Jude. “You should go while you can.”
“Go?” the girl said. “I don’t…” A crease appeared between her brows, betraying her.
“Hannah?” said the girl farthest away. “What do you want us to do?
“Do?” said Hannah. Hannah’s feet lurched her forward. She was nothing but a rabbit, nothing but prey, beautiful in her sacrifice.
One of the other girls plucked at Hannah’s arm. “Are you okay?”
Hannah shook off the other girl, chest heaving, wild eyes not leaving Jude’s. “I feel you,” she breathed. “Your teeth.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Hannah?” said another girl, and then watched her own shoes in horror as she took a step toward Jude.
To Jude, Hannah said: “I’m … I’m ready. Please.”
Jude reached up and laid her hand on Hannah’s cheek. Hannah turned her head. Jude leaned forward, thirsty, so bloody thirsty, but Hannah was thirsty, too. All these girls were.
The space between Jude’s shoulder blades itched, then burned, pain so deep Jude couldn’t reach it even if she tried. She could take Hannah, she could take them all, but what would it change?
“I thought I was ready, too,” Jude said, tearing her hand away from Hannah’s warm skin. “But I wasn’t. Nobody is.”
Hannah shook her head, blinked. She took a step back, then another, dimpled knees quivering. “You touch me again and I’ll beat the shit out of you.”
“Yeah,” Jude said. “Of course you will.”
* * *
Will it be hot today?
Will it be cold?
Who is near me?
Are you coming?
Are you here?
The party organizers ramped up their organizing. Dozens of people descended on the park, hanging lights and banners. More trucks came—some with water, others with chairs and tables and linens. Jude did her best to ignore them, only lashing out once, when one of them, a middle-aged white woman with fluffy hair and augments, suggested that Lolo be moved to her indoor habitat during the party. “That thing looks half-dead already,” she said.
Jude said sweetly, “Better than being all the way dead, wouldn’t you say?” and threw a chunk of “salmon” at her fluffy head.
“What’s gotten into you?” said Diwata.
“Nothing,” said Jude, which was true.
“You need a break,” Diwata told her. “Go home. Come back when you’re acting like yourself.”
Acting like herself? And who, exactly, was that? Her night-walking took her northwest, all the way to Jefferson Park. The house was just as she remembered it, a little bungalow nestled among dozens of other little bungalows. She circled around to the back of the house, jumping up to the porch roof. Through the window, she watched her parents sleep. Her mother had one arm flung across her face, covering her eyes, her father was slack-jawed and snoring.