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At last； when his lips were stained red and a thin pink line of blood and spit trickled from the corner of his mouth； he was able to sleep。
Chapter 7
I 'm going to be a vampire； Daddy。
Wallace shut his eyes tight and shook his head。 〃Begone； Jessy；〃 he muttered。 〃Torment me no more。〃 His hands came up hard against the side of the brick building that housed Christian's bar； and he pushed himself away from the wall and staggered out of the alley。
The palms of his hands stung dully。 He had left some of his skin on the bricks； and he could feel dust and grime embedded in his lifelines； his heartlines。 The pain did nothing to soothe his mind； nothing to stop the cursed past from rushing back。 The streets and alleys and buildings around him swam and grew dark。 Now he could actually see Jessy； see her as she had been that day。。。。
〃I'm going to be a vampire； Daddy。〃
It was all she had spoken of for weeks。 Finding a vampire to bite her； turning into one； drinking the blood of others （her lovers； Wallace supposed； the lovers he didn't know） and turning them into vampires as well。 Her things spoke of this obsession too。 Jessy had always been quite a reader； turning the pages of Charlotte's Web and the Bobbsey Twins books with scowling concentration； but now the stack of books by her bed was all vampire stories。 Dracula was there； dog…eared and heavily underlined。 Wallace had looked at the book one night while Jessy was out at one of her haunts。 Some passages were circled over and over； in pencil and lipstick and what looked like blood。
Wallace began reading； but after a few paragraphs he was too disgusted to continue。 He hadn't known the novel was pornographic。 He touched the marks on the page。 They were blood。 Jessy's blood。 She had been cutting herself to get at it。 Wallace found razor blades between the pages of the book。 There were other novels that looked just as lurid； and a vial of some sort of red dust that must have e from one of the voodoo shops in the French Quarter； though he'd told her not to go to those places。 There were all the posters from the movies she saw； cruel eyes and gaping； razor…toothed mouths all bloody； and the walls and ceiling festooned with black lace。。。
〃Daddy。〃
Wallace forced his eyes open。 He was not at home； standing in the hallway outside Jessy's room。 He was weaving down Bienville； breathing in the cool night air； heading for the river。 But the past sucked him in again； and it was that day 。。。。
Jessy was calling him。 For ten years they had been alone except for each other； ever since the day Wallace had found Lydia in her cooling red bathwater with her forearms slashed open from wrist to elbow。 He was Jessy's father； and he had to go to Jessy when she called。 She might need him。
〃Daddy；〃 she called softly。 〃Daddy 。 。 。〃
Wallace looked at the old sign on Jessy's bedroom door…a cartoon rabbit in rainbow…spattered overalls paining the words GENIUS AT WORK then turned the knob and stepped out of the dark hallway into brightness。 Jessy's room always caught the morning sunlight。
She'd just e out of the shower； and her skin was as pink and white and dewy as spring。 Her hair fell wet and straight along her cheeks。 As he stared at her； she let the green towel fall from her breasts。 Wallace had not seen his daughter's body since she was a young child； plump and androgynous； with pink buttons for nipples and a tiny clean fold of a sex。 But now her breasts were round and smooth； with a girlish heaviness to them； and Wallace wondered how it would be to cup their weight in his hands； how it would taste if he took one of those creamy strawberry peaks in his mouth and sucked。
〃I'm going to he a vampire； Daddy。〃
He could not find his voice。 There was no spit in his mouth。 〃Put your clothes on； Jessy。〃 It was a dry whisper； weak and useless。
〃I'm going to bite people； Daddy。 I'm going to feed on them。 I need blood。 Hot 。 。 。 rich 。 。 。 red blood。 I need your blood； Daddy。 I'm hungry。 Your Jessy's hungry。 e to me。〃
He did not know how he got to the bed。 Surely if she had not cajoled so； if she were not his daughter； his only joy； if he had not always tried to give her everything she asked for。。。surely if he had lain with some other woman in the ten years since Lydia was gone。。。surely then； if the ache in his groin had not e bursting forth； he would not have let her lay him out and undo his trousers and straddle him； slipping around him as smooth and tight as sea anemones。 Surely he would not have groaned and squeezed her heavy soft breasts between his fingers and thrust up and up into his daughter's wet…velvet heaven until she bent over him and he felt a metallic sting as of a razor blade beneath his jaw。 Jessy fastened her lips there。 He felt her throat working as she swallowed。 Then a black and crimson mist began to drift into the edges of his vision。
He awoke tangled in Jessy's rumpled sheets that smelled of girl…skin。 There was a nick on his throat； no worse than a bad shaving cut； smeared with dried blood and spit。 He did not wash it。 Jessy was gone。
After a few nights he began to look for her in all the places she had mentioned。 All the nighttime haunts； the dark bars and clubs in the French Quarter。 He did not know what he would say if he saw Jessy。 He had begun to feel as if the thing that had happened were his fault； as if he had seduced her。 As if he had forced himself into her。 He did not know whether he would be able to meet his daughter's eyes。 But that did not matter； for he never saw Jessy again。
More and more often during his search； he found himself drawn to the place called Christian's； the dark bar with the stained…glass windows that threw colored shadows onto the sidewalk。 It was a little place way down Chartres； away from the life of the Quarter。 He came here because he knew Jessy had liked the place； and he decided he might as well have a drink or two or three。 He watched the bartender。 Christian moved behind the bar； mixing drinks with detached expertise； answering his customers' chatter politely if rather coldly。 Unless someone spoke to Christian； he was silent。
When Wallace watched Christian； studied the impossibly tall； gaunt； pale figure always dressed in black； the idea of Jessy's vampires no longer seemed quite so preposterous。 Something about Christian frightened him。 Wallace thought of himself as a religious man； but when he was in that chilly presence； God's warmth seemed to shrivel inside him。 One night their eyes met across the bar； and Wallace felt his spine turn to ice。 The coldness in Christian's eyes…that awful； empty coldness； like winds blowing across barren plains…was more convincing than all Jessy's talk； her books and movies； her fevered drinking of blood。
Wallace could not forget those eyes。 When he'd seen them again tonight； he had felt the same icy hand； the same helpless fury。 Wallace believed in vampires now。
Tonight； though； he would not be helpless。 Fifteen years ago he had been afraid。 His fear no longer mattered； not now。 The finger of God had touched him； a fearful； excruciating touch that wrenched his insides and sometimes drew thin dirty blo