My Dark Beloved - onc 2023 Ambassadors Pick-Longlisted

.6

The five blocks to the Dust hadn't seemed too bad. But the five blocks home feel like I'm walking to another solar system. The further I walk from the bar, the further I am from Zillah. That sucks and not in a fun way.

"Zillah," I puff out into the cold. I see their name crystallize and then vanish. "Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, they walk into mine." My Bogart needs fine-tuning. I tap the ashes of an imaginary cigarette, touch my fingers to my lips and then exhale a stream of fog. I look up as a flake cascades from the sky and falls onto my mock cigarette. The sky is now deep red. The vampire in me licks the inside of my ribcage.

I think of Lux. I hope she's awake so I can tell her all about my serendipitous meeting, but at the same time, I hope she's sleeping so I can keep Zillah to myself.

She was right about one thing, though. I will be tossing that invite to Mr. Palm and his five daughters.

When I enter the villa, it's hot and damp. Amazonian style. I sense that every fireplace has been lit, all three of them. I perk up and sniff at the soot and cinders filling the air with their cough-inducing scent. Lux likes it hot. I bet her aquarium is bubbling. Sexy mermaid soup – I like the thought but it only lasts a second before my mind quickly zips back to Zillah.

I feel like a schoolboy with his first crush. If I end up drawing little hearts in random places, I'll know I have officially lost my fucking mind.

I wipe my hands on my jeans and then look at my palms. I need to get up to my room now.

Wriggling out of my jacket, I go to toss it on the back of the chair when I feel something bulging slightly in the pocket. When I pull it out, I see it's a tiny baggy full of powder whiter than the snow outside. I dip a finger in, lift the powder-coated digit to my mouth, and lick. When the taste hits me, my smile is bigger than the Cheshire Cat's. Perfect Peruvian powder coats my insides. Ahhh... it's just like mom used to make. I know I didn't buy it. I know Lux sure as hell didn't. I bring up the baggie for a kiss. "You don't know me yet but you have already found one of my weaknesses."

Cocaine. The White Rabbit in my fairy tale.

It is delicious, delightful, dynamite, and all the fancy describing words that start with a D or any other letter of the alphabet.

"Zillah, I think I could fall in love with you."

I don't bother greeting Lux. I run up to my room (do not pass Go. Do not collect $200). Looks like there will be party treats for me and my esteemed guests tonight.

There are mirrors and razorblades scattered all over the huge house. Never know when you may have an emergency like wanting to pull yourself out of a crappy unlife and dive powder-nosed first into Wonderland. I grab the paraphernalia from my bedside table and create two lines while my reflection sequels in delight. I use a cut-up straw to snort every last fleck of dust.

I got hooked on drugs with Jay Gatsby and his entourage in the roaring 20s. OK, maybe not with Jay (who was fictional – don't you know anything?) but I did get hooked. The blood-drinking and killing began giving the mortal side of me nightmares that found themselves seeping into my day. Hell, I had ghosts following me for years. The drugs made them all go away. When I met Lady Cocaine, I felt my guilt subside...or be swept under the rug. Same thing, right? Say yes, or I swear I'll stop talking right here.

Now, my high is for other reasons. I. Just. Fucking. Love. The. Way. It. Feels.

I shut the door of my room and briefly ponder locking it. But Lux has never come in uninvited. Not once. And I've known her since 1882. Even when that itch finds her, she knocks and waits. The last time she was here was in late spring when the roses were in full bloom and the temperatures were pleasing enough. She came early in the evening and didn't leave until the next morning. Gods, Goddesses, and whatevers, we didn't even stop for food.

I remember her tiptoeing out the next day – soft and silent so that I wouldn't wake. But I watched her float away like a butterfly. She looked so good wrapped up in one of my shirts. People are always the most beautiful when they're walking out the door, aren't they?

The coke hits me like a Mac truck and takes away any little reminiscent moment I was having about my mermaid lover and plants Zillah back in the dark little space they have claimed. The buzz from drugs is always instant. No waiting around dilly-dallying. No idle chitchat. It's wham! Bam! Here I am!

I crawl up onto my bed. I'm on all fours like a predatory beast. Zillah forms before me. Their eyes are pits I'm falling into. I touch my face to the pillow and rest on my knees. I feel Zillah's tongue on my neck. I can't unbutton my jeans fast enough. I slide my hand under the waistband and welcome Mr. Palm and his five daughters to the guests of honor. It's a race between the coke and my thoughts to see who'll make me feel euphoria first.

I listen to my breath hitch. I can hear my heart vibrating from the walls. In my drug-induced haze, I feel someone crawling on the bed behind me. My mind spins. Lux? My mind calls but I get no reply.

Between intakes of breath, my room and Zillah's face evaporate and I am pulled into a vast hall made of ebony. Candelabras drip wax from the walls. The ceiling is made of stars and sky.

A hand grabs my shoulder and rolls me onto my back. I can't see a face. All I see is midnight.

"Take off your clothes," a voice whispers. Before I can comply, I'm pinned down and stripped out of every stitch. I watch as my clothes become puffs of fire. I watch them turn into ash and rain down upon us. My skin is dotted with cinders and I burn pleasantly.

The dark shadow slithers between my legs. It moves from my neck to my chest and then travels lower and lower until my palm is replaced with something much more appealing.

I want to cry out – howl to the world that I am entering a little death. Sensing my need to voice the fact that I'm about to explode, the shadow clasps a hand over my mouth, stifling any sound that may shatter the stars.

As I begin to come down from an orgasm I can only describe as celestial, I realize I'm in no ebony room. I'm in my room. And there's no one with me. No midnight lover. No perfect mouth. Nothing but me and a whole bunch of slime on my hand.

I'm weightless and heavy at the same time. Rising makes me giddy and I crumble to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut off. I reach out. "Didn't I used to have a rug here?" My floor is bare. The marble is cold, at least I think it is. But I do not mind.

I get up and try three times to stick my feet into my boxers. When I finally succeed, I grab the baggie and head to the bathroom to wash my hands.

The mirror greet me with disheveled hair and a grin I did not feel before on my face. There's a stray ray of light coming from the small window. Tendrils of pale glow touch my hair and I see silver sparkle around me like a halo. I am imitating angels. With a snort, I push back from the sink. I shake my hands and leave droplets on my reflection.

It's when I am heading back to my room I hear the sound of glass shattering and something that sounds like a gush. A scream blooms the air and grabs my arm. Wide-eyed I turn and stare in the direction of Lux's room. 

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