The Author of Wimpy Vampire Novels Gets Her Comeuppance in TRUTH HURTS!

WARNING: THIS STORY HAS IRONY AND BLACK HUMOR IN IT, APPROACH WITH CAUTION! ALSO, GRAPHIC VIOLENCE!

They trusted Tony Sutton; it was as simple as that. Handsome, erudite—a fixture of London society, a bon vivant—a must have at every party. And a great fan of horror film and books. He had written one or two horror novels himself, but his writing was considered outdated. His publisher Greg Winton had told him to try to update his work.

“Ah my dear man, I don’t think I can ever write what I don’t feel,” he had replied.

Greg let him go. He had a brighter star on the horizon. Desiree Dawn, formerly known as Harriet Pringle had come out of left field. Greg Winton’s new Dark Love imprint line with its focus on paranormal romance had really taken off with Desiree’s books leading the way.

Her kind of books seemed to be all the rage with their tales of handsome vampires--romanticized blood suckers invariably attired in crushed velvet--cursed to walk the earth as the undead but with regular and satisfying sex from a variety of libidinous ladies.

Desiree’s recent Innocents of the Night Series had even caught the attention of some Hollywood types. When Greg heard that he had decided to invite her and her boyfriend to dinner at one of London’s best restaurants in order to tell her.

He had hinted all through dinner that he had fantastic news for her but refused to tell her until after desert.

At last the time came.

“My darling! You’ve done it again! It’s a film they’re talking about!"

Desiree, devastating in black satin with her favorite two legged poodle, Scott in tow—was delighted. “A film?! Really?!”

“Yes and well—I’ve saved the best for last, my love!”

Obviously he was going to make her guess and so she glanced at Scott. “He’s too cruel! Tell him to tell us what it is.”

Scott started to obey, but Greg cut him off. “My old friend, Tony Sutton is throwing a huge do at his place and he’s having movie people there! Two of them! A Hollywood director and screen writer and we’re all invited!”

 “A party?! When is this for?”

  “Saturday!”

  “Saturday, but that’s so soon! I have so much to do—a frock and--!” She stopped when she saw Greg was beginning to look annoyed. And since she didn’t want to appear ungrateful she gushed: “Oh heavens of course I’ll go—won’t that be wonderful, Scott?”

 Scott stifled a yawn and waited for her to hand him her credit card because he had forgotten to ask for it earlier.

*

 Botox treatment, her hair done and the purchase of a lovely Vivienne Westwood dress was all accomplished quickly and efficiently. So that within three days Desiree was happily studying her reflection yet again.

The clam and onion diet had paid off. “Scott, look how much better this dress fits.”

No reaction whatsoever. He was in one of his truculent moods. She hated when he was like that, but he was and if she didn’t know it then she knew it when he asked, “How old is he?”

“Who darling?”

“That Tony Sutton—how old is he?”

 Des froze. Being on the wrong side of forty, she hated when twenty something Scott mentioned age. “What does it matter? He’s just eternal. No one really knows how old he is.”

“When did he make that first movie of his? That scary one—didn’t it come out in the 1950’s?”

She thought a moment. “Oh you mean Blood of the Werewolf? No love it was the late sixties.”

“No, I’m certain it was 1957.”

“Don’t be silly.”

Scott looked it up. “Yes, he said. “1957. Look.”

She walked over to the laptop. It was that movie site again. They must have had every bloody film that was ever made listed there. She wrinkled her nose. “Well I suppose he was barely out of school.”

“But Des—even if that was so, he’d be in his late sixties now wouldn’t he?”

Des threw her head back. It was one of her favorite diva gestures. “Well however old he is, he’s still got his looks.”

“Good face lifts.”

Ooh he was being a right bastard today. He probably wanted more of an allowance. “There’s nothing wrong with a nip and tuck,” she replied. But he didn’t answer which made it worse. “Well however old he is my love, he’s still attractive to the ladies!”

“Yeah desperate ladies!”

She felt like slapping him but instead put on her best coquette expression. “You’re not jealous are you? I’d never let him come between us.”

Christ she could be so dense sometimes.

*

Some of the guests were already there. Others like himself who flitted in and out of the public eye. Sutton had lots of friends but these were his inner circle. More than friends really—friends came and went sometimes as the saying goes, but these—these were more like family. Close family that understood one another—that had the same values and needs and likes and dislikes—brethren almost.

 Tony stood admiring them from afar. He liked to do that sometimes. Extracting himself from a situation to become a neutral observer. He did this now and he smiled, for he liked what he saw.

They were sitting on the terrace quietly waiting for the party to begin. There were three women exquisitely turned out creatures accompanied by three equally handsome men.

At first they appeared bored. Languishing as they did on lounge chairs or occasionally sauntering across the terrace’s tiled floor to gaze at the moon or glance sadly at one another.

Yet if they looked dreamy, their eyes gave them away, for a mad intensity burned there. Like a needful glow waiting for fulfillment.

Suddenly Tony turned to see his oldest and dearest friend Max watching him.  Max, distinguished and with the bearing of an aristocrat had it seemed always been his friend. “You look pleased.”

Tony nodded. His equally handsome features were brightened by a satisfied smile. “I am! And so are you, you old rascal.”

Max, laughed. “Thank you for that. I’d rather be called rascal than roué!”

“Why is that?”

“Roué is more derogatory for one thing! Whereas rascal is kind of devilish!

Tony shook his head. “Devilish! Now that does suit!

“You think?!”

 But Tony didn’t answer, instead he just smiled.

*

“I think you took a wrong turn.” Scott was sitting next to Des as she drove with Greg in the back.

“No I didn’t! I know my way around East Sussex!”

 “Oh you do not! You haven’t any occasion to come here, it’s too posh!

 “Now now children, don’t fight. It’ll show on your faces and we don’t want that now do we?!”

 Desiree didn’t answer she was too busy glancing around. They had been on this back road for some time. Perhaps they were lost.

“Des, I still think you took a wrong turn!”

“Oh shut up will ya?!”

Scott turned his head. “You see Greg how her Queen’s English goes right out the window when she’s annoyed?”

“Oh shut your fucking mouth! You’re making me nervous!”

Scott harrumphed and sat staring stonily ahead. “I don’t see lights or anything in any direction! We’re lost!”

“I told you there wouldn’t be any road lights. It’s the country darling.” She was starting to sound like Des again. She probably didn’t want to piss him off too badly. “It’s supposed to be two miles from the motorway. Just be patient.”

Neither of them answered her which made her even more tense. But then a miracle occurred or so it seemed as a twinkling castle began to emerge from a copse of trees.

 “There! You see? I knew I was right!"

The three of them gasped as it came into view. It was a spectacular sight.

 “However could he afford such a place?” Greg was clearly in awe. “He hasn’t made a film or published in years!”

“Well even if that’s so, he does all those adverts in Japan and places, must earn plenty.”

Scott looked sullen. “I think it’s overdone!”

“Oh shut up Scott, it’s fabulous! I’ve never seen anything like it!” Desiree felt she had now come into her element. This was the kind of place she wanted to be invited to. “I can’t believe how grand it looks!”

She drove her Mercedes onto the driveway.  “Look! Valet parking and everything! I wonder if we’re the first to arrive.”

They weren’t. There was Tony’s inner circle. “My they are stylish.”

“They are attractive I’ll say that,” Greg said.

“They look like well-dressed Goths and rent boys to me.”

“Well they don’t to me so don’t spoil it, Scott!”

Tony greeted them. “Ah my friends! Do come in. and let us await our Hollywood friends arrival!”                                                    

*

Tony introduced them all around. “These lovely ladies are my muses aren’t you darlings?!”

They were extremely attractive, if dressed rather violently Des thought. Swathed in black with black lipstick and gobs of black eyeliner they looked extremely gothic. Beautiful but sad too, as though they were lost in some mournful but romantic world of their own.

Desiree began to make mental notes for one of her stories.

Three of the men looked young, and Des noticed with amusement how attentive Greg was with them. They were beautiful boys really, delicately featured and sweetly pale and they seemed to hang on his every word.

Soon her eyes fell on a particularly distinguished looking man Tony introduced as his oldest friend, Max.

“I can’t believe I am at last meeting you, Miss Dawn!”

Desiree sensed a blush coming on. “You’re too kind!”

Max wasn’t finished. “I have never read anything so remarkable in all my existence as your novels!”

Des began to giggle. “How charmingly put!”

She might have remained beaming at him had she not noticed the Goth sisters wrapping themselves around Scott. She sailed over and led him forcefully away. “Come darling, the tour has begun!”

The entrance hall was immense, marble floored and arrayed with Greco Roman Statues.  Off to the side was a magnificent library.

It was wonderful being shown around such a mansion, and Des would have enjoyed it more had she not been watching Scott out of the corner of her eye. It seemed he was seriously taken with those three gothic pieces.

She could have hit him and happily ripped those simpering sirens apart if given the chance.

Max seemed to notice. “I think your friend is distracted, but then again so am I for you are a distracting woman.”

The pleasure she normally would have felt receiving a compliment like that was dampened by her mood.

Tony noticed her discomfort. “Perhaps the upstairs tour later,” he said. “Let us have our drinks now.”

They were just being served when a servant announced the Hollywood guests had arrived.

The director was rather flamboyantly dressed—expensively attired yet somewhat over the top with all sorts of necklaces dangling from his tanned neck. Des wondered how he got through the airport’s metal detectors.

The screen writer looked more toned down with designer stubble and an Armani suit and no jewelry at all except for his Rollex which he made certain was visible.

The two looked in awe but tried to cover it up. “Damned delay at Heathrow! The director said. Trying, Des thought, to sound British. “And you must be the author!”

Desiree drifted gracefully over to him. “I am. What a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, dear lady! This is Jason, Moving On’s best screen writer.”

Moving On what silly names studios had now days, Desiree thought. But she smiled and twinkled.

“We’re so lucky to have him! He will do justice to your novel, my dear Desiree. Just you wait!”

A liveried servant came in just then to announce dinner. “Ladies and Gentleman if you’ll follow me please.”

Scott rolled his eyes but Desiree didn’t care she was too busy admiring everything.

If she was already impressed when she entered the dining room she nearly gasped, for it was opulent. She quite felt as though she was dining at Buckingham Palace.

There were four courses, each heavenly if unknown. Des would have preferred to know what she was eating, but she didn’t want to look like a peasant.

Half way through the meal, the director began speaking of the movie. “Now naturally we’ll want your input as author—but we have a vision! A real idea of how we want to do this thing!”

Though delighted with the entire venture, Des began to suddenly grow uneasy. “I am committed to the essence of the story—I mean I wouldn’t like to see serious changes or anything.”

The screen writer raised his hand. “I know what you mean. Your work is important to me—its truth will remain as you intended.”

“And so it should!” Tony said. “Truth should never be denied whatever the consequences!”

A strange thing happened just then as each of the three grimly attired ladies began to giggle. It seemed so out of character for them. They stopped as soon as they sensed their host’s displeasure.

Tony nodded to them.

As if on cue one of the women spoke: “Oh Tony, do show everyone your magic!”

“Only if everyone agrees!”

They all simpered and applauded. “Magic! Oh please! Please!”

Tony agreed. “It will all begin after dinner!” 

*

 There was an air of expectation and something else--something untoward--almost ominous. Desiree didn’t know what it was, but that’s when Tony began his act.

  “I will need a volunteer please.”

  One of the Goth sisters stood up.

  “You’ll love this, Desiree!” Max whispered.

  Tony waved his arms and the woman began to slowly lift off the floor. Desiree watched in amazement as she rose ever higher.

  “Remarkable, isn’t it?”

  Desiree turned to answer Max, but that’s when she noticed Greg and the men were gone. This didn’t surprise her but Scott wasn’t there either. And what was worse, both of the Goth girls were gone as well.

  What to do?  She couldn’t rush off to search for him, not until this damned magic act was over. So she bided her time, tapping her Jimmy Choo shoes and trying not to look too upset.

 At last it ended.

 “Pardon me I’m just going to see where my young friend is!”

 Tony, ever the gallant host offered to help her look. “It’s quite a big place.”

 They began searching and when Tony saw her glance up the stairs he suggested they go look there as well.

 She took the stairs two at a time.

 “There are ten bedrooms in all.”

 He was telling her more, but she didn’t care. She didn’t even hear him as she rushed to open each door. When they reached the last room, Tony took her arm. “This is the master suite Des—are you sure you want to go in?”

 She glared at him. “I am going in!”

 He opened the door for her.

 “Scott!”

 Her accusatory scream died in her throat—her horror took it away, as her eyes beheld Scott lying naked in the bed with two women. But he wasn’t getting his jollies. His body had been torn open--pieces of his flesh lay everywhere. The women were covered in blood and gore. One went back to bury her face in his guts.

 She screamed and rushed blindly out of the room. Down the stairs she stumbled. As she reached the hall, the library door swung open and the horrific site of Greg being cannibalized greeted her. The girl from the magic act and three servants were feasting on him--the liveried servant and the valet attendants chomping away. They smiled at her.

Why hadn’t she noticed their teeth before? They looked razor sharp.  And though they were bloody, their fangs showed through.

The girl held up Greg’s heart and laughed.  

Desiree sank to her knees.

"There, there, Desiree. I know it’s upsetting the truth often is!”

 Tony grabbed her, but she managed to stand up.  “You’re monsters! Monsters!”

If she could only make it to her car. Where was her car?!

At last she saw it. She kept looking over her shoulder as she ran.  He was gaining on her!

Run Desiree! Run!

She finally reached it. Mercifully the doors were wide open. She didn’t think to question it; her need for flight was too great. 

But the car was not empty. The director and screen writer were both in the back seat—their ravished corpses gutted like the others.

A blood-soaked Max suddenly emerged from the shadows. “I didn’t think you’d mind if we used your car. I think they thought something rather exotic was about to happen, but I don’t do men. I’m afraid they were disappointed.”

Now walking over to Des he whispered. “Come my love, it’s your turn now.”

She turned to run, but Tony suddenly appeared. “Why don’t you just accept it?”

She howled as Tony’s hands suddenly began drawing her down. It was all happening so slowly. Like a dream. She was standing and screaming one second but in the next she was being gently pushed down to the ground.

Tony was speaking to her. His voice was calm and almost soothing: “The wine and food—well I’m sure you know what they were really—you see there were reporters here earlier after all.”

Gently like two attentive lovers, they removed her clothes until she lay there naked--her body gleaming in the silvery moonlight.

She barely felt the first bite. But then they began to seriously feed, tearing her flesh, sucking up her blood. The pain was blinding white hot agony.

She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out—her larynx had been chewed through.

It was amazing how long a person could live whilst being devoured. But then mercifully, the pain began to subside as death came to claim her.

It was Tony’s voice she heard just before she died--his breath smelling of coppery salt, his whisper soft but telling. “You see my dear, this is the truth. For this is what vampires are really like! There is nothing romantic about us at all! It is a falsehood—a lie repeated so often it has been taken as fact and sadly, the truth often hurts!”

© Carole Gill Copyright 2010