AUTHOR’S NOTE: (don’t you love these?) This is another story dedicated to Alley Kat. I noticed she likes vampire stories and this popped into my head. It’s pretty dark. I think. Anyway, I wanted to warn Anne Rice fans out there that I’ve never read any of her stuff. I’m just going on the teeny bit I know about vampires and artistic license. (Translated: Frankly, I made most of the stuff up.) If I haven’t scared you off yet, enjoy the story. J

Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal

by Juliet Benson

It was dawn, color was licking the horizon. Jack stood by the window of the shed, watching. He had moved out of the Lodging House perhaps half a year ago. Time didn’t seem to matter, anymore. The newsies didn’t understand him after he had changed, he had slowly stopped revolving in their worlds. One day he just hadn’t shown up to sell papers. Confused, they were worried something was wrong. Nothing was, he explained the next day, he just hadn’t needed the money. That only confused them more. Not needed money? They always needed money. It was almost a rule of life. Jack began skipping days regularly. Three weeks later, he missed two days in a row. The next week, three. Soon, he would miss whole weeks, and it became unusual to see him. It had happened so gradually, they hadn’t thought to miss him until it was too late. David was the only person he kept in constant contact with.

They didn’t know what had happened. Jack reached up and touched his mouth. His lips slid open and his tongue glided over the gleaming teeth, golden in the morning sun. They didn’t know this craving, this cancer. He was never starving any more. That was perhaps the only good part to this. Even Davey didn’t know. He was worried, Jack knew. He would stare at him when he thought Jack wasn’t looking, concern glowing in his eyes.

Jack never smiled anymore. If he did, it was close-lipped. What was there to smile about? He had lost his life.

"Hey, Jack." David grinned at him. Almost on the same breath he grimaced. "Really, buddy, you have to move out of this place." Jack didn’t move from his wooden chair in the corner.

"I’m perfectly content with it," he replied, simply. David coughed, exaggerated.

"Yeah, well, if I die an early death I blame it on you," he said good-naturedly. Jack didn’t reply to that. He could, could give a cryptic reply, but David had hit too close to home.

"How’s Les?" he asked instead. David pulled a chair up next to him. His was marginally more comfortable than Jack’s.

"He’s good, been selling papers like a drunkard." He grinned, and a corner of Jack’s mouth twitched in reply. "Sarah’s fine. She’s seeing a guy. Mark Londan. I think they’re serious." Sarah had been left behind with Jack’s old life. He had barely thought of her since. "I think Papa’s finally beginning to accept the situation." David sighed. Mayar Jacobs had never healed, and therefore was unable to work. For days after the Jacobs had found this out, he had done nothing but sit in the dark with a beer bottle clutched in his good hand. "Ma’s been working with him, he’s beginning to take charge around the house."

"It’ll work out Davey," Jack said softly. David tried to grin.

"Yeah." A comfortable silence spread between them like a blanket. These were the times Jack enjoyed most. The times he felt almost alive again, contented.

"What’s new with the world?" he asked eventually. David was still a Newsie, now the leader of the Manhattan ones. He had taken over after Jack had disappeared.

"You remember me telling you about the first subway opening?"

"Yeah," Since Jack was never in touch with the outside world anymore, he relied on David to keep him up-to-date. Sometimes, if he was pressed on time, David would bring a paper for Jack to read, but more often than not, he would relay orally. Jack loved watching him talk. His eyes were sharpened by the disease, so he could see well in the dark. Since he always kept his shed dark, it was easy to watch David without him knowing. David had been a great friend in all this, always doing, rarely questioning. He had tried to get Jack to come out more, to shine some light in, but he had stopped when he saw how set Jack was. Every now and then, Jack would go out with David, to make him happy.

Later, David interrupted himself with a large yawn.

"I guess I better go," he said with a sheepish grin.

"Thanks, Davey."

"No problem, see you tomorrow." And he was gone.

The bloody lovely thing about New York was that it always had people out at night. Jack grinned ferally, his teeth gleaming in the artificial lights. The hunger was pounding through his veins. He leaned against a brick wall near an alley, waiting for someone to catch his eye. Finally, a rich-looking gentleman walked by. He ran into someone and turned on them, yelling at them for their clumsiness when it was he at fault. Jack grinned again. Perfect. He followed the man inconspicuously, at a distance. His heightened senses enabled him to track him from a good deal away. The man seemed to sense danger, and continually looked around, nervously licking his lips. They came to a more secluded area, and Jack felt the man’s fear heightened. He almost laughed. By this time, the gent knew he was being hunted, and Jack could feel the fresh blood flowing in his body, fueled by his rapid heartbeat. Jack silently drew closer, chasing the man into a dark, deserted alley. He shook his head in disgust. The man was stupid, he allowed himself to be cornered. Most of the others had been harder than this. Jack glided up to the man, so close he could hear the man’s heartbeat pounding in his own temples. It slowly filled his head, blocked out every other noise. The only other sound he heard that moment was the man’s scream, and soon it too was silenced.

It took a week to come to the conclusion. It was drawing in on five months since he had changed, and the new year, 1900 was fast approaching. A new century, a new start. And he wouldn’t be alone in it.

"And I got these from Tibby’s," David triumphantly held up two bottles. Jack smiled slightly.

"Are you sure your family is fine with this?" he asked, placing the food David had brought on the small, circular table. The only other furniture in the room besides the two chairs.

"Yeah, Sarah’s going to be with Mark, Les is with the newsies and Mama and Papa want some time alone." He got a comically disgusted look on his face at that last one. Jack chuckled roughly; he wasn’t used to it. "This is great Jack, I can’t believe we’re going to have lived through two different century’s!" His eyes glowed with excitement, and that thrill Jack saw there doused his. David didn’t seem to notice he hadn’t replied, but continued arranging stuff on the table. When it was finally perfect, he left the table and walked to the window.

"Wow, Jack, this is great. What a view of New York." he said admirably. "We’ll be sure to see all the fireworks and stuff from here." He turned, bathed in moonlight, a slight frown upon his face. "Are you sure you don’t want to join in the festivities?"

"I’m sure," Jack replied. "Here, let’s move the table and chairs over to the window so we can watch while we eat." David pushed himself away from the wall and went to help. Soon, they were seated, and chewing on crackers with cheese. They kept up a lively conversation, and Jack had that contented feeling again, the one of a new life, a happier life. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad after all. He lowered his lashes and peered at David threw them. His gaze caressed David’s neck, running over the familiar lines, indents and veins. He took a deep breath. Soon, soon.

He digested the food, but didn’t need it. He ate because it made David happy. Finally, they finished and the conversation reached a lull. They moved the table back to its regular spot just before the first firework went up. Now.

"David?" He turned, an expectant smile on his face. Jack stared at him; now that the time had come he wasn’t sure he could go through with it. Then he forced himself to advance. David looked at him, puzzled. Half of Jack, the better half, wanted to tell the boy to run while he still had the chance. He reached David and grasped his upper arms in a strong grip. Beyond them, out the window, the world exploded in colors.

"Jack?" David sounded confused. Not worried, not scared. Jack tightened his grip and pulled him close. The cheers of the people dimmed in his head and he could feel David’s heartbeat. Soon his own matched it in time. A fierce tempo, pounding through the room. He lowered his head to David’s neck and bared his teeth, stopping just an inch away from the warm skin. The blood rushed eagerly to greet him, and he gently broke through the skin with his teeth.

David awoke to something warm and wet bathing his face. He blinked his eyes and looked up. Jack had dipped one of his shirts in water and was washing him off. Jack met his eyes, pity in his own. David swallowed.

"Jack?" his voice rasped out. He frowned. He was thirsty, but not for water. For something more primal, more fulfilling. Horror sunk leaden on his heart. "Jack," he whispered. "What have you done?"

"I’ve given you a gift," Jack replied, and David flinched at the bitterness in it. "You’re going to live forever, now. Like me." David reached up and touched his neck. Two small holes. Realization dawned, understanding flooded in.

"You killed me," he said flatly.

"If you wish," Jack got up and walked over to put his shirt away. David felt surreal. This couldn’t be happening.

"So," he said, struggling to raise himself on his elbows. "am I now to become an alabaster statue, like you? A emotionless zombie?" Jack returned and crouched down next to him.

"I have feelings, David," he said. But contrary to his words, his voice was cold. "I hated those people I killed. I had to, otherwise I couldn’t kill them." Bile rose in David’s throat. What would he have to do to survive?

"And so you hated me?" Jack frowned.

"No, the opposite. I need you. I gave you this better life to share."

"Better?" David’s voice rose in anger. "What exactly do you think my life was? Did it start and end with being a Newsie to you? Allow me to set you straight. Sunday’s we would have fresh made bread for dinner. Three days before Christmas we would go out to Connecticut and spend a day in the snow, playing. Every birthday for each one of us we would buy a balloon to hang on that person’s chair. No matter how little money we had at that time, we always would do it. After a date, Sarah would come in and walk around the house on a cloud. While she was doing her sewing she would tell me or Ma about the guy. Once a month Les and I would go down to a pond and float a boat he had spent weeks making. That’s my life, Jack. And you just murdered it." Silence hung between them, not a comfortable one, this time. Jack got up and walked out the door. David crawled over to a corner and curled up into a ball.

Jack returned, and saw David asleep in a fetal position in the darkest corner of the room. He swallowed his regret and sank down to his knees by him.

"David?" he reached out and shook the shoulder nearest to him. David started, then grumbled. He stiffened when he remembered what had happened. Glaring at Jack, he asked him, unspoken, to state his business.

"Here," Jack shoved a bottle in his hand. "I figured you weren’t ready to kill someone just yet." David slowly reached up and grasped the bottle’s neck.

"You thought right," he said chillingly. A shudder ran through him as he stared at the bottle. Blood. Jack stood up and walked to a different part of the room, leaving him alone for this. David swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep it down. Tilting the bottle to his lips, he drank.

A week passed. Jack arrived back at the shed to find David slouched in a chair, a bottle clutched in his hand.

"I can’t feed you forever," he meant it literally. For most people, it would have been figurative. Not them. Never them. David took a slug of the liquid, as sort of a defiance. "You’ll have to learn sometime."

"Yeah, Jack. Show me how to be a vampire. Just like you showed me how to be a Newsie." Jack managed to keep from showing the sting. "I wonder," David drawled. "Who will make money for my family? Les?" He sniggered.

"The people we kill will have wallets or purses." Jack said. "You can leave the money off at your house." David shuddered.

"Oh, so we don’t just kill, we steal as well?" he asked, almost cheerfully. That was almost worse than his coldness.

"If that’s what it takes to survive." David shot out of his chair. He whirled around to face Jack and leveled a finger at him.

"Don’t you dare talk to me about surviving when you’re forcing me to kill innocent people," he hissed. Jack stared at him, wondering if he’d ever hear warmth in David’s voice again. David dropped his arm and collapsed back down into his chair. He reached blindly for the bottle. Jack thought he heard him mutter something like: "David and Goliath" then give a derisive snort.

"War is a terrible thing," David said mournfully, as they stared out on the battle. Jack sighed and shook his head.

"Every generation will witness at least one war," he predicted. They stared in silence for a while, the wind rushing past them, blowing their hair and capes.

"Come," David said finally. "Let’s see Stonehedge. I read about it so often, I’m eager to see it." Jack smiled and clapped David on the shoulder.

"I’m sure you did," he teased. David had read practically every book he could get his hands on, and his knowledge had expanded tremendously. He often shared his findings with Jack when they were holed up during the day. Jack wasn’t as intelligent as David, but he was still fascinated with what he heard. It was actually David’s books that had led them out of New York. Les grew old enough to support Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs, and Sarah married and moved out to start a family of her own. David’s family in good hands, he suggested to Jack they visit Scotland. And that was just the beginning.

Jack cast one last sad look over to the battle.

"What will become of all this?" he mused aloud.

"The persecution of the Jews, mostly." David replied promptly. Jack shot him a startled look.

"What?" he asked, incredulously.

"I read a book recently called "Mein Kampf", written by Hitler while he was in prison. Well, not actually written by Hitler, he dictated it. He explained his youth, his views on politics and race, and what he wanted to happen for Germany’s future. So far, it has uncannily come to be."

"Well, why don’t other people realize that? And stop him?" David sighed.

"Few others have read the book, not fully. Plus, he’s brainwashing the German’s. No one really understands what’s happening. The actual magnitude of this is… unimaginable. And it’s only going to get worse."

"It’s magnificent," David breathed. Jack could only nod. David gingerly reached out and touched one of the stones. They heard footsteps, and a stream of light pierced the dark.

"Who’s there?" came the abrupt call. Jack and David grinned at each other. Later, stomach’s full, they laid in the middle of the circle of stones. It seemed almost magical out there, underneath the stars, surrounded by the wonder of the world. The moon glowed it’s silver light down at them, and the stars winked like diamonds. The flowers curled up in sleep, and the world seemed at peace.

"It’s as good as I had hoped." David said, a wide smile on his face. Jack rolled over and beamed at him.

"You said something about the aqueducts of Rome once…" It had only gotten worse before it could get better.

Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal

by Lord Alfred Tennyson

Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;
Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font:
The fire-fly wakens: waken thou with me.

Now droops the milk-white peacock like a ghost,
And like a ghost she glimmers on to me.

Now lies the earth all Danaë to the stars,
And all thy heart lies open unto me.

Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves
A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.

Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,
And slips into the bosom of the lake:
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip
Into my bosom and be lost in me.