Tuesday's Short - Memory's Vampire

This week’s short story takes us from the urban fantasy world of pixie-dust and paranormal investigations to the urban fantasy dreamscape of a vampire hunter and her nemesis. Welcome to Memory's Vampire.
Not all vampires feed on blood. The ones we hunt take your memories before they take your life—and now they are hunting back. We’ve been compromised, and I don’t know who to trust. That comes later. Right now, I just want to make it back to my body alive.Memory's Vampire


They say it is an extinct race, a cabal of creatures that do not exist, if they ever did. Mythical is one word, legendary another, but I prefer the term ‘nightmares’. For they exist; I have seen them. I see them every night, when I am supposed to be asleep. I hunt them, for they do not just threaten the existential stuff of dreams. They threaten our very physical existence, and we cannot touch them during the day, when the sun shines bright.

The portals to their lands lie hidden deep in our waking minds. Few there are, who can travel those corridors while they are awake, and none can remain aware of the world around them when they do. It is ironic that the protectors need to be protected, even more ironic that some folk claim the vampires are a good thing, mercy killers, because there is no memory of any of the bad events have been suffered, and people die in peace. But I say they are murderers, because if you don’t remember, then you don’t remember to resist, until the memories return.

Because they will; they always do. Because memories are like blood, and, just as blood replenishes itself, so, too, do the memories grow back—if the vampires give them time.

And they rarely do, but they don’t let their victims die in peace; they feed them enough of what they’ve lost that they die in terror, torn by agonies of what might have been.
The vampires are a sadistic lot, real, but rare, and rarely seen. Tonight, though, tonight we seem to have found ourselves in the centre of a plague, the dream portal opening up in the centre of a teeming mass of the creatures, and depositing us in their midst. Fortunately, this land follows the rules of dreaming, and we are able to draw cloaks around us, so that we blend in with those already gathered.
Or I thought we did, right up until the one closest me raises its cowled head and sniffs the air.
“Prey.”
The word echoes around us like distant thunder, ominous and not quite real. I stand my ground, turning my head towards it, and then looking in the direction it’s facing. I, too, raise my head slightly, and sniff. All around me, more of the creatures do the same. We are in a world of trouble.
I take the edges of the dream, and think of matching my scent with theirs, hoping they are hunting by smell and not some other sense. It works, for me, but some of the others do not think of it in time, and they vanish from sight beneath a seething mass of teeth and claws. From some of the writhing clusters, I hear screams, from others, come the sound of frustrated vampires. I pull the flame thrower from the ether, drawing fire-resistant armour around me, so the heavy tank, hose and nozzle settle over the top, and then I drop the cloak and cowl.
I am screaming as I fire, turning slowly on the spot and frying every living vampire in range. I douse them well, and then walk through them, until I find the crowd’s unburnt edge. Setting the next row on fire, I walk through them, each step taking me towards a screaming cluster that signals another protector, but one in need of help. When this tank empties, I discard it, and draw another from the connected dreaming I have prepared.
I doubt, though, that I have prepared for this. Perhaps, between us, there will be enough.
Flamethrowers are primitive, and not selective.
I fire a short burst, aiming high and setting stooped backs alight. It is enough to make them drop their prey. I hear whimpering, but fire a second burst as the vampires straighten and turn towards me. They run, screaming, setting others alight as they flee.
Flamethrowers are more effective than any other weapon I know.
Tanser looks up at me, eyes frightened.
“Go back to the other side,” I command, but he shakes his head.
“I don’t know how,” and I remember that the vampires have learned which of our memories to steal first. This is going to be a long night.
“Follow me.”
There is nothing else he can do, if he wants to get out of here alive. I only hope there are enough of us to get the wounded out successfully.
“Give me a weapon,” he says. “I can’t draw one for myself, but I still know how to use one.”
It’s a simple request.
“You need armour,” I reply. “Show me where you keep it.”
That memory is something they will have left intact, simply because they find it funny to toy with their victims. Apparently there’s nothing funnier than a protector who knows he has gear, but can’t remember how to access it. I really hate these creatures.
Tanser lets me into his head, and I pull his armour and weapons through. Now these fiends have two of us to deal with. Together, we fry our way to the next screaming knot of vamps, and pull Halley loose. Like Tanser, she’s lost any memory of how to get out of here, or fetch her gear. When she lets me into her head, it’s a mess, but I don’t let that out where she can see it. I just pull her gear and armour through, and we make for the next cluster of vampires.
By now, there are enough flaming vampires running around that most of them are alight, or looking to evacuate. I pull more flamethrowers through for Halley and Tanser, and then switch to white phosphorous and a grenade launcher. Seems neither of them have thought of that.
“But that’s…” Halley begins, and breaks off to deal with a vampire that’s seen the launcher and doesn’t think I should have it.
Tanser says nothing, but he’s dealing with three of the critters, and is a little busy.
We pull Kandy and Jess out from the centre of the next knot. They’re in better shape than the first two, simply because they were together. Even so, we were too late for them to retain their memories of how to relocate. I’m starting to worry, as I take out more distant vamps.
I’m careful to aim near the three remaining clusters so as not to risk frying the protector buried within, and the five of us work towards the closest, as a knot of fire and the source of airborne destruction. I’m very, very relieved to see that we’re not the only ones making our way across the battlefield. At least three other protectors have managed to pull off some sort of trick to keep the vampires from attacking them. I wonder if it was the same one I invoked.
I guess I’ll find out when we deal with the last of the gathering.
This time, it’s Tanser and Halley who pull the protectors free. They’re worse off than any of the others, looking at us like we’re unknown heroes—which is disturbing, because we know each other well. I give an inward sigh, and lead them over the battlefield towards the closest team. The guy leading them looks as tired as I feel, and his four rescues have the same blank-eyed stare as my last two.
Well, damn. This ain’t gonna be good.
At least he smiles when he sees me.
“Cinders!” he shouts, and I recognise who it is, and stop.
“Who wants to see if I can get them home?” I ask, turning to my tiny pack of humanity.
Their faces show puzzlement, but I’m not going to explain why I’m not talking to Deloigt.
“Tanser,” I say, but he looks nervously around.
“Are we done here?”
I follow his gaze.
“We’re about as done as we’re going to get,” I tell him, and hear footsteps behind me.
“Del,” I say, turning to face him.
“I can’t get mine home, either,” he says, and I wonder when he’s had time to try, while succeeding in rescuing four.
“Me neither,” and this time I swear, because I didn’t even notice Kaps coming over to join us—and that kind of inattention can get us killed.
“Feels like a trap,” says Halley, and Kaps, Deloigt and I reshuffle so that our rescues are inside a triangle formed by the three of us.
“I didn’t know there were such a lot of them,” I say, giving voice to something that’s been bothering me. “We killed so many.”
“We set them alight,” Kaps corrects. “Who says they all died?”
“I saw them fall.”
“Did they go to ash?”
Actually, now that he mentions it, no. None of them went to ash. I glance around the battlefield.
There are a lotof fallen vampires out there.
“Have we everseen them go to ash?” I ask, and even I can hear the quaver in my voice.
Behind us, the rescued shift uncomfortably, and I glance back, thinking I’ll reassure them, but it’s me who needs reassuring. They don’t look right, not even Halley, and she’s the one that made me look.
“What is this?” I whisper, and then I remember: I came in here alone; there’s no way Halley, or Tanser, or Kaps, Deloigt and the others should be in here.
I don’t think past that. I don’t look back out at the battlefield to see if the ‘corpses’ are starting to rise. I don’t need to, and I don’t have time. All I have time for are a few hasty steps back, as I angle the grenade launcher down, aiming at the ground in the middle of them. That, and firing, and hoping the guardian watching my body has my back, and can pull me out of here.
Thought moves like light, or faster, because, no sooner than I’ve thought it, than I’m back in the Ops Centre, lying on the bed, grenade launcher in hand, flamethrower nozzle sticking up beside my head, from where I’ve left it resting against the wall—except that’s not right.
I raise the grenade launcher’s muzzle and fire it at the ceiling in the centre of the room, ignoring the fact that a dozen protectors and their guardians are in here with me, because it’s just not true, not any of it. It can’t be.
I’ve screwed my eyes tight closed against the flare of phoz going off over my head, but I’m not afraid; I know it won’t burn. I wait, but the expected flash of light doesn’t come, so I open my eyes again, and, this time, I’m alone. I wonder where my defender is, my guardian, the one who should be keeping me safe while I sleep, and I scramble into a sitting position, remembering my fight with Deloigt.
“The guardians can’t be trusted,” he’d said, and I’d been furious.
“Your guardian in particular,” he’d added, going on before I could shut him up. “They’ve been compromised.”
“Compromised?” I’d managed, because that was all I’d been able to get out without shouting.
“In their dreams,” he said. “They protect us while we fight, but no-one watches over them while they sleep. It’s stupid when you think about it. Everyone knows wecan’t be gotten to when we sleep, but no-one’s thought to check that the guardians are built the same way.”
Built. That word echoes with significance for me. Deloigt has built a castle for his guardian, somewhere he can take him, once he falls asleep. Deloigt meets his guardian at the edge of sleep, and guides him to safety. I haven’t been doing the same for mine.
“Mina,” I whisper, but she does not reply, and that’s when I realise I haven’t heard from her for a while. “Mina?”
The voice that greets me from the dark is totally unexpected.
“She’s here,” it says. “We’ve been having tea.”
Tea. It sounds so civilised, except the voice is familiar, and not in a good way. I struggle to remember the vampire’s name, am horrified to find I can’t.
“You can come and join us if you wish.”
But Mina had been standing beside me when I’d gone into the dream realm. How could she be here? Why would she be having tea with… with… I struggle to find the memory, but only find its shadow.
“Give it back!” I command, and the vampire laughs across the dark.
“You know I can’t do that,” it says. “Besides, it was delicious.”
The reply makes me feel sick to the stomach.
“How many have you taken?” I ask.
I’d like to sound strong, but I sound like I’m in shock, which is about right. The vampire ignores how I feel, but answers from the dark.
“Not as many as I’m going to,” and that’s when I realise I am alone, that the vampire has only been able to eat one memory, or very few, that somehow my mind isn’t being devoured, even if he’d like to.
“Won’t you join us for tea?” it asks, sounding mildly plaintive.
I’m surprised when Mina’s voice joins in.
“Please, Cindy. It’s ever so lonely without you.”
Ah, yeah, I just bet it is.
“Where are you?” I ask, looking properly around, for the first time.
I’m not in a forest glade. That’s a bit of a shock, since I should be.
Actually, I’m not sure where I am, given there’s no light. I can feel grass beneath me, and tree bark at my back—and the puzzling scent of roses and lavender in the air. I look up, but the tree’s shadow is deep, deeper than the night-dark I can see at its edges. I wonder why the vampire can’t find me in here.
“Cindy.” Mina, again. “Cindy. Where are you?”
She sounds impatient, and I wonder why.
“Yes, Cindy,” the vampire echoes. “Where?”
“I don’t know.” I answer, before I can stop myself, and I see the wisdom of whoever put me here.
Usually vampire compulsion cannot touch me, but that thing has fed off my memories, left its hooks inside my head. I decide that maybe I’ll wait for dawn; it can’t be far away, even if time flows differently in the dreaming realm.
I open my eyes, my real ones this time, and find myself still sitting at the base of an enormous tree, with grass beneath me, and bark at my back. That, at least, is reassuring. I think about pushing to my feet, and walking out from the tree-shade to take a look at the stars—the stars would tell me where I was—but I decide against it. As long as I don’t know where I am, the vampire can’t know, either. I wonder where Mina is, as their voices come whispering out of the dark.
“Why don’tyou take a look at the stars?”
“How can I protect you if I don’t know where you are?”
I want to tell Mina that she hasn’t done such a good job of protecting me, as it is—and why, in the Heavens’ name would she be having tea with a vampire?
The vampire laughs.
“Tea, indeed,” it says, and I hear Mina gasp.
The gasp is quickly followed by a moan, and the vampire laughs, again, as the sounds Mina makes leave little to the imagination.
“Tea is one word for it.”
I put my hands over my ears. Deloigt was right about the guardians—a happy shriek pierces the night inside my head—well, my guardian, at least. They are well and truly compromised, and I don’t think Mina’s coming back from this. I wonder if memory vampires create other memory vampires, if they drain a person’s mind completely.
“Would you like to find out?” the vampire asks.
“No,” I say. “No, not at all.”
It’s silent, like it’s thinking about it, and then it sighs.
“No? Well, perhaps not yet.”
Mina cries out, less in pleasure and more in pain, but the vampire remains silent.
“Please, don’t,” I say. “Don’t.”
And Mina whimpers, before giving a long, satisfied sigh.
For a long moment, there is silence in the darkness, and I look out at the night beyond the shade. I hope dawn isn’t far away. Inside my head, I feel the vampire’s interest sharpen, and realise that the darkness is turning to grey, that its depth is explained by the walls I can see rising at the far end of a garden.
I close my eyes, not wanting to see more. I can feel the vampire willing them open, and then Deloigt’s voice intrudes.
“Let it see,” he says, and my eyes are open before I can stop them.
“Keep watching,” Deloigt instructs, and, this time, it is the vampire who doesn’t want to see.
I smile, and I study the garden beyond, extra hard. If the vampire doesn’t want to do it, then it must be done. I stare, focussing on the growing detail beyond the tree’s shadow. Inside my head, the vampire tries to turn away, but I can see a fountain, and a white, gravel path leading between the dark pink blooms of well-tended rose bushes.
A headache blooms behind my eyes, and my skull threatens to crack open, but I keep staring at the fountain, as the vampire starts to scream. Mina screams, too, and, suddenly, they are both there, the vampire standing in front of the fountain, with Mina in his arms. Two of them, in the garden, in front of the fountain, as the sun rises above the castle wall, and bathes the place in light.
It’s a good thing that memory vampires share that one vulnerability with their blood-drinking cousins, or I might have been in trouble. I watch as the monster explodes into a pillar of rapidly dissipating ash, and Mina starts to fall.
For a minute, I feel both alarmed and relieved, and then, with one final shriek, Mina’s body vanishes, as well, and my shout of horror mingles with hers.
“Damn,” Deloigt says, coming out from behind the tree, to wrap an arm around my shoulders and help me to my feet. “I was hoping we’d gotten to you both in time.”
I sag against him, not sure if I want to faint, throw up, or cry. Mostly, I’m feeling hollow.
Together, we walk to where the ash stains the whiteness of the path, watching as it swirls and disappears on a light morning breeze. When I stop, he stops beside me, but he waits until I find the words for speech.
“How many more?” I ask.
“You’re the last,” he replies, and I turn towards him in shock.
“You and Mina were the strongest,” he says. “I figured you’d hold out the longest.”
We both glance back at Mina’s disappearing remains.
“I’m sorry I was wrong.”
“Not entirely,” I say, and stop, looking at his face.
It takes me a moment to voice the suddenly emergent fear.
“Or is it too late for me, as well?”
He hugs me tight, and I wait, unsure if he’s actually hugging me, or preparing to drive a stake into my chest. It’s a very long moment, before he holds me at arm’s length and looks into my eyes.
“This time,” he says, “we made it.”
His eyes cloud, and I think I catch the tell-tale sparkle of tears forming, but he turns away. I barely catch his words as he heads out from under the tree.
“But it was close. Far too close.”
For who? I wonder, as I follow him into the light, and then I wonder if he’ll ever let me find out.
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Memory's Vampire is available as a stand-alone short story at the following links: books2read.com/u/mdNJnd.
You can also find Kristine Kathryn Rusch's latest free short story over on her blog: kriswrites.com. Why don't you go and check it out?