By Blood We Live Part 11

"What may be it?" Lincoln asked.

The cantor stopped short and turned back to Lincoln. "The boy may yet be saved. The vampirism is affecting him because technically, he is not Jewish. And yet, he has your Jewish blood within him. So I shall make the vampire think he is Jewish."

"You mean-"

"I mean that I shall convert him."

Lincoln sputtered. "But-but-I thought conversion was something that took study, and time!"

The cantor gave him an odd look. "You know little of the ways of your own people, and yet you are familiar with the conversion ceremony?"

"Um-it's a long story. My wife wasn't Jewish, but my parents wanted her to convert."

The cantor nodded. "A familiar pattern. The parents who never teach their child about Judaism, and are surprised when he chooses to marry outside the tribe. At any rate, you are correct. A real conversion requires the person converting to study Judaism, and present his or her knowledge to a Bes Din, a court of three rabbis. A man must undergo circ.u.mcision, or if he is already circ.u.mcised, a tiny drop of blood is sufficient. Then he must be brought to the mikvah, the ritual pool, to be immersed and to make a blessing that declares his decision to become Jewish. And none of this can be done on shabbes.

"But time here is of the essence, Mr. Kliman, as the boy's life is in danger, and G.o.d is not without mercy. There is a principle called pikuach nefesh, which states that saving a life overrides all else. Indeed, the Talmud states that he who saves a life, it is as if he has saved the entire world. I will teach the boy the proper blessings, perform the proper rituals. I am sure that once the boy is saved, you will take steps to ensure that his conversion remains valid. Otherwise the vampirism may return."

Lincoln nodded weakly. "If you save Joseph, I will do anything. He's all I have."

The cantor nodded back and opened the door to Joseph's bedroom. Just before entering, he said, "Ironic, isn't it?"

"What?"

"The vampire has been drawing blood to doom the boy. Now I shall draw blood to save him."

Lincoln couldn't stand the sight of blood, but he had to know what was going on. So after a few minutes of pacing around the apartment and saying what prayers he could recall, he entered Joseph's bedroom.

The cantor sat on the bed next to Joseph, holding his hand and cradling his head. Joseph was crying, but his color seemed better. Joseph was singing something, along with the cantor, that Lincoln did not recognize. The cantor stopped when he saw Lincoln.

"Good, Joseph, very good," he said to the boy. "Keep singing."

He stood up and walked over to Lincoln. "The boy has a way to go, but I believe it is working. I have him reciting the Psalms."

"How much longer?" Lincoln asked.

"I am not sure. But he is getting better."

"Yes, but-Cantor, have you had a chance to look out the window?"

The cantor turned to the window; it was dark outside. "Shabbes is over. I must recite Havdalah."

"That's not exactly what I meant. Are you sure Joseph will be cured? According to legend, since he's been bitten three times and sundown has now come-"

The cantor smiled. "Fear not, Mr. Kliman. Your son should be fine. I don't think there is anything more you need to-"

A loud bang at the window startled the three of them, and Lincoln looked up. For a moment he thought he saw a bat, but then smoke swirled around it and into the room, blocking his vision.

"Oh G.o.d. Oh no oh no oh no..."

The smoke curled around the window, and coalesced into a pretty woman with long blonde hair falling over her shoulders. She wore a white V-neck sweater, cut low enough to display her cleavage, and a pair of tight blue jeans. She smelled of sweet perfume. She looked around the room, her red eyes peering out over a pair of dark sungla.s.ses.

Lincoln shouted, "Go away! We haven't invited you in!"

"Ah, but the boy has, and I have come for the boy," said the vampire. She smiled, displaying two prominent canine teeth. "He is mine."

"You can't have him!" shouted Lincoln. He rushed at the vampire, who laughed and turned to smoke just as Lincoln got to where she had been standing. Lincoln lost his balance and almost fell out the window, but the cantor grabbed him.

The vampire re-formed at the bed. "h.e.l.lo, Joseph." She reached her hand out to Joseph's head; Joseph recoiled, a look of horror upon his face.

"Keep her away!" Joseph shouted.

"Why, Joseph! Is that the way to treat your good friend Lily?" She cupped his chin and stared into his eyes. "Are you ready to come with me? To become one of us?"

The cantor walked over to the bed and spoke directly into the vampire's ear. "You are too late," he intoned. "The boy is lost to you. I have ensured it. Depart."

The vampire laughed. "Do you think I have not dealt with these last minute conversions before? I look into the boy and I see the soul of an agnostic. He has no belief in the G.o.d of the Jews. I have encountered many of his type before, brought up unprotected from my magic. He is mine for the taking."

"Why do you want him?" Lincoln asked. "Why can't you leave him alone?"

She grinned at Lincoln, showing her long canine teeth. He shuddered. "Because he is so easy to take, so defenseless. As are so many of your sons." She turned away, bent over the boy, and began to kiss him all over his face.

"Come, Joseph," she crooned. "Forget this religious nonsense. Your dad didn't let it stop him from marrying out of the faith; why should it stop you? Your friends are waiting for you, Joseph. It is time to join us."

Lincoln felt a chill at the back of his neck, and he turned around to look back at the window. There were definitely figures out there, dark silhouettes hovering outside, waiting for Joseph to join them.

Entranced by his fear of what lay outside, he barely heard Joseph's next words. "Yes, Lily, it is time to join our friends." He began to lift himself out of the bed.

"No!" shouted the cantor. "Joseph, don't listen to her! What about all you have gone through today?"

Joseph snarled. "You don't understand! Lily and her friends have shown me so much of the world I never knew. We've gone out and had so much fun, every night! I want to live in her world!"

Lincoln broke out of his trance. "No!" he screamed, and rushed at the vampire. She changed into a bat this time, and Lincoln stopped short. The transformation was too frightening.

" Lincoln!" shouted the cantor. "Grab her!"

Lincoln broke out of his trance of fear and lunged at the bat, which flew away from him to the other side of the room.

"Now!" the cantor shouted, and jumped to Joseph's side. "Joseph, you must sing. You must sing the ancient melodies that will protect you from this evil creature, or you will become like her. You must sing of your faith, your belief, in the Lord.

"Sing, Joseph. Sing with me."

The cantor began to sing, in sepulchral tones. "

Mizmor l'David. Repeat it, Joseph!"

"No, I-"

He grabbed Joseph by the shoulders and shook him. "Come to your senses! Her world offers you nothing but corruption! You shall lose everything that defines who you are, Joseph. Your background, your ancestors-you will never see your father again."

"My father," he said weakly. "I love my father."

"Then sing!

Mizmor l'David."

"Mizmor l'David," Joseph sang, in a faint imitation of the cantor's voice.

"Louder, Joseph! Listen to the tune.

Hashem ro'i lo echsar. Bin'ot Desheh yarbitzaini al me minuchos yinahalayni."

Joseph repeated the song, more strongly this time.

The bat turned back into a woman. "No," she whispered. "Stop!"

Lincoln blinked his eyes in surprise. As Joseph and the cantor sang, the room started to glow with a faint, yellow light. It was a soft, comforting glow, like that of the afternoon sun in a perfect blue sky.

"No," said the vampire, much more weakly. "Stop, Joseph. If I ever meant anything to you, stop." She crouched down and covered her eyes with her arm.

Noticing this, Lincoln realized that the light had distracted him. He turned his attention back to the song, and discovered with surprise that he now understood the Hebrew words. He knew what they meant, translating them instantly as they were sung.

"Gam ki aylech b'gai tsalmavet lo eir'eh ra ki atah imadi," Joseph sang.

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me.

"s.h.i.+vt'cha umishantecha haymah y'nachamuni."

Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me.

The glow became brighter, emanating from all around, but as they finished singing it started to gather around the forms of Joseph and the cantor. The light became so bright and hot that Lincoln followed the vampire's lead and s.h.i.+elded his eyes.

Then Lincoln heard the song change. Without any prompting from the cantor, Joseph began singing another psalm. He listened carefully.

"Omar ladoshem machsee umtsudati, elokai evtach bo, kee hu yahtseel'cha meepach yakoosh, midever havot."

I say of the Lord, my refuge and stronghold, my G.o.d in whom I trust, that He will save you from the fowler's trap, from the destructive plague.

Lincoln opened his eyes and looked over his arm. Was the light starting to move towards the vampire?

"Lo teera meepachad lailah..." You need not fear the terror by night...

The light began to coalesce around the vampire. She screamed. "Joseph! No!"

"...meedever ba'ofel yahaloch." The plague that stalks in the darkness.

The light surrounded her completely, so brightly that her form was completely covered. Her screams became softer, m.u.f.fled.

Joseph stopped singing. "Begone," the cantor and he said in unison.

Lincoln heard one more loud scream, and the light flared up, forcing him to cover his eyes again. When the light faded from beyond his arm, he looked up again, and noticed three things in succession. First, he saw Joseph, lying on his bed asleep, with all the normal color back in his face. Second, he saw the cantor holding up in front of him a silver Magen David, a Star of David.

Finally, he looked to where the vampire had last stood. All that was left of her was a pile of black dust, and a pair of sungla.s.ses.

"Perhaps she was sent to test you, Mr. Kliman, perhaps not. I would not even guess."

It was Monday afternoon, two days later, and Lincoln had stopped by the synagogue to thank the cantor once again.

"At any rate, Cantor, it was your music that saved my son. And your Star of David. I owe you my eternal grat.i.tude."

Cantor Gross shook his head slightly and smiled. "It was not merely my music, Mr. Kliman, but what my music represented, where it came from. As for the star of David, it has absolutely no religious significance at all. But I counted on the vampire not knowing that, and I was right. In short, I think your grat.i.tude is well meant, but misplaced."

"Yes. Well. Cantor, I need to get back home now. I want to check on Joseph."

Lincoln turned to go, but the cantor gripped him by the arm. "Mr. Kliman, remember what we went through a few nights ago. What Joseph went through. Do not take his pseudo-conversion lightly and a.s.sume that he is now safe. The vampirism may still return."

"What do you suggest?" Lincoln asked softly.

The cantor looked him directly in the eye. "Start bringing the boy to synagogue. If you are not comfortable with this place, then bring him to one easier for you to accept. But do bring him to one. Let him build up an understanding, an appreciation of his background, his culture, his religion."

Lincoln pulled his arm away. "I'll consider it," he said, and to his surprise realized that he was speaking sincerely.

The cantor nodded. "It would be best for the boy to develop his own beliefs, his own defenses. Remember, Mr. Kliman, religion protects us from the many vampires of the world."

Lincoln nodded and walked out. It was a cold day, and he sneezed when he got outside. He reached into his coat pocket and found the yarmulka that he had been told to wear when he first entered the synagogue. He had forgotten to return it.

He looked back at the synagogue for a moment, then returned the yarmulka to his pocket and walked home. Perhaps he would find use for it soon.

Endless Night.

by Barbara Roden.

Barbara Roden, along with her husband Christopher Roden, is the proprietor of Ash-Tree Press. Together, they are also the editors of several anthologies, including Acquainted with the Night, which won the World Fantasy Award. Barbara is also the editor of All Hallows, the journal of the Ghost Story Society. Her first collection of short stories, Northwest Pa.s.sages, will be published by Prime Books in October.

This story, which first appeared in Exotic Gothic 2, is about an expedition to Antarctica in the Golden Age of South Polar exploration: the days of Shackleton, Amundsen, Scott, and Mawson. However, when the expedition has to replace a crew member at the last moment, it becomes apparent his replacement has his own reasons for wanting to go to a continent where there's no daylight for months on end.

The story asks: How would you feel in such an isolated setting, if you became convinced there was someone present who wasn't supposed to be there? And how would you feel if, in order to ensure the survival of yourself and everyone else, you had to do something which goes against all your values and beliefs?

"Thank you so much for speaking with me. And for these journals, which have never seen the light of day. I'm honoured that you'd entrust them to me."

"That's quite all right." Emily Edwards smiled; a delighted smile, like a child surveying an unexpected and particularly wonderful present. "I don't receive very many visitors; and old people do like speaking about the past. No"-she held up a hand to stop him-"I am old; not elderly, not 'getting on,' nor any of the other euphemisms people use these days. When one has pa.s.sed one's centenary, 'old' is the only word which applies."

"Well, your stories were fascinating, Miss Edwards. As I said, there are so few people alive now who remember these men."