The Vampire's House

Quincy Dedham peered uncertainly out at the living room. "I don't know, it seems like there are an awful lot of windows."

 

Tabitha Stephens, the real estate agent showing the house, turned back to Quincy and his wife Amelia, her face beaming. "I know! It just fills the house with light!"

Quincy remained in the shadows of the kitchen, unmoved by Tabitha's enthusiasm for natural light. His wife, Amelia, her arm linked in her husband's, explained, "My husband is being treated with lithium for his, um, condition. Sunlight can be an issue."

Tabitha blinked a semaphore of gibberish in response, not seeming to understand.

"He's schizophrenic," Amelia said. She smiled. "But you wouldn't know it when he's on his meds! Unfortunately, the lithium makes it impossible for him to go out in direct sunlight."

"I see," Tabitha said, the professionally polished smile never leaving her face. "Well, not to worry," she said as she walked over to a control panel on the living room wall. "I've been able to place several, uh, schizophrenic clients in environmentally friendly homes." She tapped and pinched the touch screen and the windows became dark. "There. Is that better, Mr. Dedham?"

"Thank you," Quincy said as he and Amelia stepped into the living room. 

After a moment of awkward silence that tested Tabitha's practiced smile, she said, "Okay. What you really want to see is the basement, am I right?"

"That would be great," Quincy said.

"What would make you say that?" Amelia asked the real estate agent. 

"Well," Tabitha said. "It's nearly full dark in here now and neither one of you have taken off your sunglasses."

"They're prescription," Quincy said.

"Yes, yes," Amelia said. "That makes perfect sense. And as I just said, I've placed a number of schizophrenic clients in homes, right here in the Harris Hill's Estate development. All new construction, state of the art amenities, with large, finished basements. A refuge from the day's labors. And sunlight. I've also sold homes to customers with, um, cutaneous porphyria so I know just how important a basement can be."

"Why do you say schizophrenic like that?" Amelia asked. "Like you're making air quotes around the word when you say it?"

"Did I? I'm terribly sorry if I've made you feel at all uncomfortable, Mr. Dedham," Tabitha said. "Let me assure you that-"

Quincy cut her off. "She knows."

"I was going to say that we can't legally discriminate against the mentally ill." Tabitha pushed pause on her smile. "I think it's actually quite clever of you to use schizophrenia, not nearly so icky as porphyria, and so much more serious sounding than bipolar. I mean, really. Aren't we all? Schizophrenia, on the other hand, sounds so clinical, potentially dangerous, and yet, still serves as a kind of inside joke, a metaphor for your, um, actual condition. I'm not a doctor, of course, but sometimes you're, uh, manic. Sometimes depressed. A day and night kind of thing." The brilliantly white smile returned to Tabitha's face. "I know some people still think of you as an unholy abomination but let me assure you that I'm completely okay with you, your lifestyle, and most importantly, your money. I mean, at this point, you're really just stock characters, if you think about it. Books. Movies. Television. You teach preschoolers math and you sell them barely nutritious breakfast cereal. As pop phenomena go, you may just be over."

"Over?" Amelia asked.

"Your Warholian 15 minutes of fame has ticked down to zero," Tabitha said. "It's all about zombies now. Disease. Viruses going viral."

"I could literally kill someone for a cigarette right now," Quincy said.

"If you wouldn't mind stepping outside - oh, right - well, let me think. I suppose the garage would be okay. Maybe you could open a window? You know how fanatical non-smokers can be and I'd like to keep the place clean for other buyers, you know, unless you'd like to put in a bid on the place right now," Tabitha said, with a twinkle of avarice in her eyes.

"Right now I want a cigarette," Quincy said. "With extreme prejudice."

"You had to have this place cleaned, you said?" Amelia said. "You would need to disclose if the previous owners were cat people, wouldn't you?"

"The previous owners didn't have any pets," Tabitha said. "Cats or dogs."

"That's not what I meant," Amelia said.

"Oh! Oh, yes! Cat people. Ugh! Disgusting creatures!" Amelia said. "Yes, I would have to disclose but that's not the case here. Just your standard clean up, that's all. Vacuuming, rugs professionally shampooed, floors mopped, windows, bathrooms; bleach, disinfectant, that kind of thing."

"I'll be right back," Quincy said, as he left for the garage.

Amelia sighed.

"Everything okay?" Tabitha asked.

"He won't be right back," Amelia said. "Cigarettes are like potato chips for my husband. He can't smoke just one."

"Basement?" Tabitha asked

"Yes, please," Amelia said.

Amelia walked the large, dimly lit basement. She thought the house was perfect, not just as an investment but possibly as a residence.

Tabitha was burbling. "It's completely finished. Plenty of outlets. Plumbing if you wanted to use part of the space as a laundry room. You could easily set up an entertainment center, a home office space, or possibly you might prefer to use it as sleeping quarters. It's cool and dry, as I'm sure you can tell."

"You seem quite at ease with us," Amelia said.

"Well," Tabitha said. "As I mentioned before, I have had some experience." Tabitha unbuttoned the top button of her blouse. "And I like to think I do my homework." Even in the low light of the basement Amelia's vision was keen. She saw the small silver crucifix that hung from a thin silver chain around Tabitha's neck. Tabitha pulled her hair back behind her ear and Amelia could see the crucifix tattoo on the right side of Tabitha's neck. She turned to show Amelia the matching tattoo on the left.

"I see," Amelia said. "Holy ink?"

Tabitha nodded. "The priest at St. Agnes has a tattoo parlor in the basement of the rectory." She paused. "Father Dave led a troubled life before he found Jesus." 

Tabitha noted Amelia's eyes gliding over her body. "Yes," she said.

"Yes?" Amelia asked.

"Yes, I have a tattoo there, as well," Tabitha said.

Amelia smiled. "That's too bad."

"You're not my, um, type," Tabitha said.

"If you'd really done your homework," Amelia said, "you'd know I'm everyone's type."

Tabitha froze. Suddenly Amelia was standing next to her, her lips no more than an inch from Tabitha's right ear. Tabitha wasn't sure if what she felt was fear or excitement. 

Amelia whispered, "I can make you a cash offer of $350,000. Right here, right now."

"But that's less than half the listing!" Tabitha protested, still unable to move.

"A bird in the hand," Amelia whispered. "350,000 birds in the hand."

"I…" Tabitha struggled to speak. "I can't."

"You have such beautiful skin," Amelia said. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"No," Tabitha said.

"That's a shame," Amelia said. "You should have someone in your life who knows just how beautiful you are."

"I, I know what you're doing," Tabitha said.

"Do you?" Amelia asked.

"Yes," Tabitha said.

Amelia smiled. "You brought me down here knowing what I would do. Do you want me to stop?" she whispered.

Tabitha hesitated. "No." She pulled the silver crucifix from around her neck and dropped it on the floor.

*****

Amelia found Quincy in the garage, smoking a cigarette.

"How many of those things have you had?" Amelia asked.

Quincy considered the cigarette held between the fingers of his right hand. "All of them. I smoked an entire pack. Or soon will have. This is the last one." He took a deep breath. "And I feel fantastic."

"Disgusting things," Amelia said, waving her hand in front of her face. 

"Did you close the deal?" Quincy asked.

"325," Amelia said.

"325?" Quincy said. "I thought 350 was your price point?"

"I was particularly persuasive," Amelia said. 

Quincy shrugged. "It's a buyer's market," he said.

"You doubt my skills as a negotiator?" Amelia said.

Quincy smiled. "Speaking from first hand knowledge," he said. "Never."

"I think we should live here," Amelia said.

"I thought this was just another investment property," Quincy said. "You could flip this place for three times what you paid for it tomorrow."

Amelia shrugged. "Or twenty times that in ten years. Look at what we got for the summer place on Lake Vanern."

"That was a castle. I know we only paid about 100K in 17th century cash but I still think we could've gotten more than 59 million," Quincy said

"The upkeep was killing us," Amelia said.

"I miss the lake," Quincy said.

"I miss having a dungeon," Amelia said.

Quincy finished his last cigarette. "I know there are two dairy farms just a mile or two west of Harris Hills Estates."

"Location, location, location," Amelia said. "Good source of veal."

"I was thinking the same thing," Quincy said.