The Traveling Vampire Show(125)

 

“RESIST HER FOR A PERIOD OF FIVE MINUTES ... PREVENT HER FROM DRINKING SO MUCH AS A SINGLE DROP OF YOUR BLOOD DURING A BOUT OF FIVE BRIEF MINUTES ... AND YOU WILL WIN THE SUM OF FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS. THAT’S FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS CASH MONEY, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN-HALF A THOUSAND DOLLARS.”

 

Someone in the grandstands on the other side of the arena called out, “You mean we gotta fight her?”

 

“ONLY IF YOU VOLUNTEER, SIR. BUT THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I MEAN. VALERIA IS VERY HUNGRY. SHE’LL WANT THE BLOOD OF ANYONE WHO STEPS INTO THE CAGE WITH HER—SHE’LL WANT IT BADLY. WHOEVER TAKES HER ON WILL HAVE A DESPERATE FIGHT ON HIS HANDS. OR ON HER HANDS. WOMEN ARE WELCOME ... EVEN ENCOURAGED... TO CHALLENGE VALERIA.” He chuckled in a way that sounded very phony, then said into his microphone, “FIVE HUNDRED BUCKS WILL BUY A LOT OF GROCERIES, WON’T IT, LADIES?”

 

Another audience member, a woman this time, yelled, “Ain’t enough groceries to die for!”

 

“VALERIA’S CHALLENGERS RARELY DIE, MA’AM. SHE KNOWS WHEN TO STOP. HAVING YOUR BLOOD SUCKED BY VALERIA IS NO MORE DANGEROUS THAN DONATING A PINT TO THE RED CROSS ... BUT MUCH MORE PLEASURABLE.”

 

Laughter and murmurs came from the crowd. A man shouted, “All right!” Another man yelled, “Sounds good to me!” Someone else, “I’m in!”

 

“BEFORE I ASK FOR VOLUNTEERS,” Julian continued, “I MUST WARN YOU THAT THOSE WHO CHALLENGE VALERIA DO RUN A RISK OF INJURY. OVER THE YEARS, A FEW HAVE EVEN SUCCOMBED TO THEIR INJURIES.”

 

Lee leaned toward me and I felt her upper arm against mine as she said in a quiet voice, “They died.”

 

I nodded.

 

“SHE IS VERY POWERFUL. THOUGH I’VE TAMED HER TO SOME EXTENT, SHE IS A VAMPIRE AND EXTREMELY DANGEROUS. I MUST ASK EVERY CHALLENGER TO SIGN A WAVER BEFORE STEPPING INTO THE CAGE ... RELEASING US OF LIABILITY FOR WHATEVER MISFORTUNES MAY OCCUR IN THE COURSE OF THE STRUGGLE.”

 

He looked down through the bars at Valeria. She still stood motionless just past the end of her coffin, staring straight forward.

 

“VALERIA, ARE YOU HUNGRY?”

 

She flung off her cape, threw her arms wide open as if to embrace the night, and roared.

 

“AUDIENCE, DO WE HAVE A VOLUNTEER?”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Fifty-two

 

 

We did.

 

Scattered throughout both grandstands, maybe twelve or fifteen people stood up. Those of them who were timid or polite raised one hand like a school kid, while others waved both arms overhead. A couple of them even shouted and whistled. Though I didn’t get a good look at everyone who volunteered-including some who had their backs to me—they all seemed to be men.

 

They had friends in the audience who cheered and yelled.

 

Stryker, from his perch atop the cage, pointed toward someone on our side of the stands and said, “YOU, SIR!”

 

The man punched both fists at the sky as if he’d already won. He was nobody I recognized. As the audience cheered, he sidestepped through a crowded row, reached the cleared area of stairs, and hurried down to the arena.

 

He wore a plaid shirt, blue jeans and work boots.

 

The shirt and jeans fit him snugly. He looked handsome and rugged. His haircut was a flat-top, brushed straight up so it looked like a bristly triangle. I figured he was probably some sort of construction worker.

 

When he got to the ground, however, he shoved both fists at the air again and shouted, “Semper Fi!”

 

A United States Marine!

 

Back in those days, with fathers who had fought in World War Two and Korea, we all knew about places like Guadal-canal, Tarawa, Iwo Jima and the Chosin Reservoir. To most of us, every Marine was a hero. We held them in awe. Some of us still do.

 

Realizing that the volunteer was a leatherneck, I think I muttered, “Wow.”

 

The audience went crazy, cheering and whistling.

 

He took off his shirt. He had a dark tan and the sort of muscles that made guys like me want to keep our shirts on forever.

 

I looked over at Lee. She was leaning forward slightly, staring down at the volunteer. She must’ve caught the motion of my head, because she turned to me and smiled. “This should be good,” she said.

 

“A Marine,” I said. Leaning way forward, Rusty said, “Anybody know this guy?”

 

“Not me,” I said.

 

Lee shook her head.

 

“Good thing I’m not a homo,” Rusty said. “I’d fall in love.” Lee swatted his leg, but not very hard.

 

Down in the arena, Vivian walked up to the Marine with a clipboard. She took his shirt, spoke to him, and handed him the clipboard. He signed, then gave it back to her.