Mrs. Steinblat walked around her garden.  The heat wave of forty-five degree weather in February had melted most of the snow.  It wouldn’t be long before the crocus popped their shoots out of the ground.  She scuffed her foot along the leg of her dead husband lying on the ground, icicles, fallen from the roof, jabbed into the ground all around him.  In his chest gaped a fresh gash.

Mrs. Steinblat dug her phone from her pocket.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“It’s my husband,” she cried, “he’s been killed!”

“Do you know who killed him?”

“I think it was an icicle.”  Her steady hand jerked one of the jagged pieces of ice from the ground.  “They’re lying all around him and he has a big hole in his chest.”

“The police are on the way.”

“I hear them now.”  Mrs. Steinblat ran into the front yard.  “Yes, here they come.  I can see them.”

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

“Okay.”

She shut her phone and tucked it back into her pocket.  The police cruiser pulled in the driveway and parked.  She went over as two officers got out and an ambulance pulled up behind them.

“Where’s your husband ma’am?” one of the officers asked.

“Around back.”  She sniffed and made a choking sound like a sob.  She covered her face as they approached the frozen man on the ground.

“When did you find him?”

“Just a few moments ago when I called 911.”

“Had he been out here doing something?”

“I don’t know.  We are…  I mean, we were separated.  I haven’t talked to him for about a week.”

The officers glanced at each other.  “We’ll just need you to come down to the station where we can talk about how you found him.”

“There’s not much to tell,” she said, exasperated.  “I came out here to walk around the house since it was such a nice day and there he was, dead.”

“Alright, we’ll just need to clear the scene, you know,  incase there was any foul play involved.  We don’t want to corrupt any evidence.”

“Foul play?” she gasped.  “Who would want to hurt him?  He’s the best mortician in the county.  People love him.”

“It’s just procedure ma’am.”

She stood against the house as they walked around and took some notes.  They documented the direction the icicle would have dropped from the roof and how his shirt was wet as if ice had melted on his chest.  They noted the footprints in the snow and mud, only Mr. and Mrs. Steinblat’s.  Finally they taped off the area until the detective could arrive.

“If you don’t mind,” Mrs. Steinblat said, “I would like to go back inside.”

They excused her and she went in the house.  She threw her mittens into the dryer and ran a hot bath, warming her frozen fingers.  When she got out and dressed, she called the, now, best mortician in the county.

“Mr. Steinblat’s dead,” she said.  “I’ll come by this evening to settle the arrangements.”  After a pause, she continued, “The cause of death is an icicle to the heart.”  After another pause, “No, no regrets, his cold heart was dead long before today.”

The police and emergency crew finally left.  Mrs. Steinblat put on her black suit, stiletto heels, flawless makeup, and dabbed on the expensive perfume that Mr. Steinblat had given her on her last birthday.  She twisted her golden hair up off of her neck and grabbed a silk scarf.

She let herself in the back door of the mortuary.  The stale smell in the lifeless room enveloped her.  She heard the mortician working in the basement and descended the stairs.

He stood, silhouetted by the moonlight streaming in through the narrow block windows.  He turned as she approached, needle and thread in hand, standing behind the casket.  His slick black hair shone like oil, his dark eyes like bullets encircled by olive toned shadows.

He held back a smile, but she caught a gleam of light flash off of a sharp fang.  A thrill of excitement ran through her.  “It’s done,” she said.

“You honored your word Mrs. Steinblat.”  A full smile crossed his pale face, making her week.

“You’ll honor yours, I presume,” she said, her voice breathless.  She dropped her scarf and shed her suit jacket revealing only her nude torso.

He looked down at the corpse.  “Goodbye Mr. Steinblat.  An icicle makes the perfect murder weapon, doesn’t it?  It disposes of itself.”  He let out a deep laugh and slammed the casket shut.

Mrs. Steinblat wrapped herself around him and pulled him down on top of the casket.  “Pay up,” she said.

He dug his teeth into her neck and she moaned in ecstasy.

—
© 2009 Jamie Blair

Aspiring YA Fantasy writer and telemarketing strategist.  (Telemarketing - You have to be in hell to write about its horrors.)  www.jamieblair.blogspot.com

The Marradith Ryder Series Part 3

“Can you drive?”

Marradith was about to ask why he wanted to know, but she looked at him and saw his swollen right eye. It gave her a little satisfaction to know that he was hurting.

“Yes, I’ve got a license.”

“Good. We’re taking your Mom’s car. She said that you keep the spare in your purse.”

They got in the car, and she turned the key to the ignition. “You’ve seen my Mom, haven’t you? You met her and my Dad.”

He shrugged. “Why do you say that?”

“Because she sounds like she trusts you.”

He changed the subject. “I want you to drive like normal. Keep to the speed limit. We’re going to get on Highway 315.”

“You’re real sure that I am not going to drive us off a bridge on purpose or something?”

He laughed dryly. “You’re a smart girl. I must say though, werewolves heal much more quickly than humans. I’d hate to see you take risks with your health like that.”

Marradith gunned the engine and pulled into the street.

***

Justin waited.

Marradith had asked so many questions that he was sure she’d keep asking more. Her silence bothered him. At least when she was speaking he had some idea of what was going on in that head of hers. She seemed to avoid his glance on purpose, even though he was staring at her. “Are you at least going to tell me where we’re headed?” she finally asked.

“There’s no need to tell you that yet.”

“Fine, just don’t tell me anything. You’re supposed to protect me , but you haven’t even told me who is after me in the first place. How do you expect it’s okay for you know everything about me and I have no idea what‘s going on?”

“Slow down, you’re speeding.” He snapped. “If your parents had told you about your heritage, that would have solved half the problem.”

“Don’t go criticizing my parents, at least they love me. You’re doing the same thing they did, but I don’t know what your deal is.” She paused. “Mom said something about you coming for me early. What‘s that mean?”

“Usually, we would not take a girl like you until you’re seventeen. Your parents were thinking they had another year before they had to tell you anything.”

“A girl like me…?”

“You learned that werewolves exist today. Has anyone ever told you anything about us before?”

“Other than what I’ve seen on television? You’re kidding, right?”

He sighed. “Everyone has heard the stories. One thing that the myths did get right: werewolves, vampires and witches all come from the same root.”

Marradith kept her eyes on the dark road ahead, still refusing to look at him. Her flesh was crawling. She knew he was going to tell her things she did not want to hear.

“Witches came first. Then the vampires. Werewolves were the third in the chain, and of course the most different. The very first of the werewolves were called Luki, and they were a breed that remained in canine form. They walked upright and spoke language.

It may help to think of them as similar to the first human cavemen. Luki hunted humans purely for sport, not for food. It wasn’t until the first Luki mated with a shape shifter that Wolves were able to change from canine to human and back again by will.”

“Wait a minute. Shape shifters? Where do they come from?”

“That’s something that no one really knows, but the shape shifters are not the point.”

“I don’t see where I am in all of this.”

“Hold on, I’m getting there,” he said. “As you can imagine, there was always breeding between the species. Witches are human. Wolves and vampires; we’re more like cousins of the human species. Similar blood, but with differences on the cellular level.”

“Mutations,” Marradith whispered.

“Perhaps. Or, maybe the result of evolution. Every now and again, a human is born who has more than one bloodline.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s say, a werewolf had an affair with a human, and a child was the result. That child could be a werewolf. But there is a chance that child, while appearing completely human, could carry the genetic imprint of a werewolf. That child would become an adult, marry another human, propagating that imprint on to his human offspring.”

“The same thing could, and often does, happen with vampires. The mixture with human, DNA destroys the need for blood that vampires have. Most often the children of these unions are witches. Some are Immortals, but neither ever need to drink blood.”

Marradith nodded. She had the sinking feeling that she knew where the end of this story would lead.

“Sometimes, a human is born who carries part of the genetic code of all three bloodlines: human, werewolf, and vampire. That person is what we would call Lamia.”

“You carry, from your Father, the gene of werewolf. From your Mother, you carry the gene of vampire. You are a Lamia.”

Marradith shook her head. “Did my parents know? All this time they knew I was going to be a freak?”

Justin frowned. “Your father knew there was a werewolf forebear. I can’t say if your Mother knew about the vampirism on her side. There are many people who have that blood, and live their entire lives without knowing it. Vampires feed on blood, but they also feed off of humans for sex. The energy produced sustains them just as well as actual blood. This is why there are so many stories of romantic vampires. Some of them marry their consorts and never even come close to killing them. Something of that sort must have happened on your Mom’s side of the family.”

“Lamia,” Marradith spoke the word, trying it on for size. It didn’t feel right.

Justin stiffened, and turned around to look through the back window. “Speed up!” He yelled. “We’ve got company.”

___
© 2009 Lori Titus

Lori Titus’s The Marradith Ryder Series appears in episodes on Flashes in the Dark. Many of her short stories appear on MicroHorror.com, DemonMinds.com, and Shadeworks.org. An upcoming story will also be featured as a pod cast on SFZine.org. For more information see her at http://www.myspace.com/talesforthedark.