The front door was closed, the lock clicked into place and her coat returned on the wood hanger in the closet. She didn’t pay attention to the time. It seemed to her that time was momentarily suspended while in his presence, as though the clock's moving parts had been removed, no longer counting out the seconds, minutes or hours and temporarily replaced with intuition as the inner workings.
It was not quite time yet to put her meat loaf into the oven but it was timely for her to prepare the beef, to leave it marinating in the glass dish in the oven before setting the timer to turn on at 6:00 PM. She opened the top counter drawer and pulled out her cutting knife, then took out one white onion from the crisper, one clove of garlic and one egg. Into a mixing bowl, she broke the egg, chopped the garlic into tiny pieces and added it, then the diced onion. She tore open the meat package and separated the partially frozen beef, then washed her hands, reaching over to the spice rack for red, crushed chili peppers, ground black pepper, chili powder and oregano. She went into the upper cupboard for breadcrumbs. The meat, crumbs and spices were mixed and pounded together with the bowl's contents, and before shaping the mixture into a round loaf, she added a dollop of steak sauce, tasting a smidgen. Once complete, the lid was put on and the loaf was ready.
Magdalene didn’t expect Sir William to eat. Of course, Samuel was fond of her meat loaf, particularly the aroma which inundated the entire house with gorgeous beef and barbeque sauce, drenched in spicy scents; sweet potatoes and carrots, added halfway through cooking, as well as generous helpings of barbeque sauce, poured over top the loaf to glaze its outer shell. The loaf was cooked at 350 degrees for two hours. A tossed green salad would be served on the side and glasses of cold water and red wine. She wondered what Sir William would do for dinner, whom would he take. Would this person be taken from the park, off the street, out of a hallway? Sir William made Magdalene think of her writing. She reached over to the open notebook and jotted down additional notes. The story of her first novel would be told in first person, two voices, him and her. She remembered the first line that came to her, while in the bookstore, dumbfounded as he stood over her. She wrote out the words.
The telephone made her jump.
“Oh child, I've got the miracle answer. It came to me in a dream.”
“What's that Auntie?” asked Magdalene.
“In Heaven, child, no one thinks to make preparations before they go… I mean for once you're above the clouds.”
“Yes, I'm listening,” said Magdalene as she washed her cold, red hands; the frozen beef required her to work quickly in preparing the loaf. The cordless phone was glued to her shoulder; her head tilted down; the receiver pressed against her ear.
“The only sure way alcohol gets into Heaven, child… someone on earth has to intentionally spill a drink in your honour and not a drink for the dead like those clunkhead buggers do after too many pints. It has to be with a name in mind.”
“I see,” said Magdalene, smiling. “That's what you were told in your dream?”
“Yes, child, my late husband, passing on pearls of wisdom from the grave… gracious. You imagine I was startled at first, woke up confused. Luckily, I fell back to sleep and went right back into the same dream.”
“And what happened?”
“He said he prefers a good stout. His second choice is strong, dark rum and his third a healthy shot of apricot brandy.”
“Go on,” said Magdalene. She looked at her watch; there was laundry to finish and she wanted to walk to the drug store to purchase a home pregnancy kit.
“Promise me, child, swear to the Almighty God, to the Holy Virgin Mary, and to the Holy Ghost, that you'll spill a wee dram of rum for me every day.”
“I promise Auntie,” said Magdalene.
“That's not all he said.”
“What else?”
“He said one drop is worth one glass and one bottle is worth a full case, so I best leave it up to you to decide how much you want to spill when I'm gone. After all, it's not like I'll be around to watch over you, cursing you, pointing my finger, saying that's not the brand I like or couldn't you spare a few more drops.”
“OK, Auntie, I promise, I'll spill three drops every day, at least.”
“God love you child. Keep your promise now, child. The angels of the universe and I have heard you say the words, so I'll rest easy now and best be off… Finnegan's got loose again, that mongrel.”
Magdalene wiped the kitchen counter and cleaned the cutting board, throwing the peelings and shells of the garlic and onion into a cup that later would be dumped into the compost. She left the kitchen and stopped at the mirror in the hallway; a tiny square mirror Samuel had purchased at their favourite flea market. Her face was flushed; a pale shade of washed-out red, the impact of Sir William's presence had left a noticeable impression. Putting on her jacket, she went to the pharmacy, walking around the block and north on Rideau Street.
Stepping out of his rented house on Range Road, he headed to Strathcona Park. He could smell her; the scent of her curves; the aroma of her essential oil, as well as visualize her lovely face; her body and hair were foremost in his mind, like a faded photograph flashing up when memory pulls out a particular subject from a dark corner. Inhaling the clean air of Ottawa, he looked up, the clouds were beginning to coalesce, covering the sun and turning the atmosphere into a darker shadow of day. The setting was suitable. His two sons, Cain and Raven, had yet to return. He surmised that they were enjoying themselves in the company of two fine ladies and it pleased him. The world and its bevy of women, the world and its twenty-four hour buffet open seven days a week, would provide in abundance a meal of fine, fresh, young female blood.
Sir William walked onto the curb and stopped, observing the layout of Strathcona Park, taking notice of the pedestrians with dogs. Animals naturally submitted to his higher authority; his omnipotent being commanded respect from all four-legged creatures. His love for meat had long left him. His love for God's creatures grew as the years had passed. Once, he killed a man and drank his blood out of spite because he witnessed the man beating his dog. The brutality was unacceptable to Sir William and the logical recourse was to teach the man a permanent lesson. The dog was set free.
He looked further out to the park's edge, which dropped down into a tributary of the Ottawa River, and saw her, sitting alone on a park bench with a book in hand, reading. Sir William walked within the lines of the sidewalk, taking his time, moving at a slow pace as his long stride completed one block of pavement at a time. She took no notice of movement around her, the little creatures congregating at the base of a large maple tree that over-shadowed her park bench. It was a game to him; a game of patience and particular taste, a game he won in every instance; a game whose opponents were unaware until he was upon them. The taste of blood from blonde women was fleetingly sour; the taste of blood from brunettes was lingeringly bitter, whereas the taste of blood from redheads was slow and sweet, clearly his preference. The young lady sitting at the park bench was a redhead. Sir William took it as a positive sign she was meant for him; her time to die would be historic, quick and painless and soon over.
He pulled his hand out of his pocket and held a broken watch. Clicking the watch's plastic face with his nail, he walked up to the lady and spoke kindly.
“Pardon me, my dear, my watch appears to be broken. Do you have the time?”
“Sure, it's very nearly three,” she said, hardly looking at him, hardly noticing how is mouth opened and his eyes shined with a flashing gleam. Sir William took his seat beside her, turning his head right then left.
Magdalene paid the cashier and returned home. She went to the bathroom and opened the box, pulling out the instructions, placing the plastic reader on the sink. She pulled down her pants and underwear and sat on the toilet, positioning a plastic cup between her legs, holding her urine until her hand was at the appropriate angle to catch the stream of flow. She pulled her panties as low as her ankles to allow her legs to open wide. Then she began peeing and the force of her stream came out strong, very quickly filling up the cup. She wiped herself and pulled up her panties and pants. Standing up against the sink, she took out the small reader from its plastic wrapping and placed it on the counter. Taking out the empty dropper she dipped the tip into the cup of urine and suctioned up several millimeters of fluid, dropping the urine into the opening. She looked at her watch to mark the allotted time for waiting: three minutes.
“Stunning day today isn't it?” asked Sir William.
“Mmmm,” said the girl, not bothering to pull up her head from her book.
“An excellent read?”
“Mmmm,” said the girl again.
One man made his way toward their bench; his distance a mere one hundred feet. Sir William played another game of timing, closing his eyes, listening for when the man would walk past their bench, waiting for the exact moment when he would act. He heard the cacophony of park sounds; the interactive banter between chickadees, seagulls, crows, finches and starlings. He heard the frenzied movement of squirrels hurriedly foraging at the base of trees. He heard the trickle of water running fast, north, crashing against the last remnants of ice at the river's edge. He heard the man's footsteps hitting the pavement hard, his step flat-footed. Sir William's eyes opened and he turned, the girl lost in her book. He leaned over as his charcoal eyes rolled up and backward, turning to all white, like a great white shark at the precise second the water transforms into a swirling, churning pool of blood.
Three minutes passed and the result was unmistakable: POSITIVE. The symbol was a bright red plus sign. She had hoped it would have come up negative. He was right, that bastard of a father-in-law. He only had to touch her with his hand, his skin to her skin, and he knew she was pregnant. She picked up the plastic reader and shook it, thinking the results must be tainted, scolding herself for not having purchased two test kits. Magdalene looked into the mirror and spoke aloud, “You are so pregnant…think you're clever, eh girl?”
If someone had watched him from a distance it would have appeared as though he was necking with her, kissing her unblemished skin. Instead, his fangs pierced the thin membrane of her main artery with a neat pinprick. In the split second she looked up, her eyes became the reflection of absent sight, the pupils expanded to large black dots blocking out the perimeter of colour that surrounded the pupils, as he sucked out her blood. The sustenance of her life force was absorbed by his hungry fangs, coming into his re-animated body and filling his belly. The veins in his throat pulsated with movement. His body remained relaxed; his legs crossed, outstretched in front; one arm curled around her shoulder, and her head tilted downward. He drank for thirty seconds and in that time, drained six pints of blood until her heart stopped. Once finished, he tilted his head up and his fangs retracted, returning into the cavity of his upper jaw. There was no trace of blood on his lips, no signs he had killed; his facial expression was one of serenity. He kissed her cheek and speaking to the sky, thanked the spirits of light for her gift of life.
Sir William rose from the bench and placed her hands on her lap with the book clutched in her fingers. Her head dropped low to look as though she was enthralled with the writer's prose. He placed several long strands of hair over her neck to cover the holes just as a woman walked past. Sir William smiled.
“A fabulous day today, would you agree?”
“It was a lot sunnier in the morning,” said the woman.
Samuel walked in the door, earlier than expected. He threw his coat onto the hallway chairs and slipped off his shoes.
“Hey gorgeous girl…you home?”
“Hey gorgeous boy,” replied Magdalene. “I'm right here,” she said from out of the bathroom, holding the pregnancy test results in her hand.
“You know babe, I've been meaning to talk to you about naming him?”
“Naming whom?” thought Magdalene with shock, wondering how he could know, how could he possibly know she was pregnant.
“My ten-inch, gargantuan, fabulous, spectacular, well-hung cock of course.”
She broke into a smile then started crying. Samuel rushed into the washroom and saw his wife sitting on the toilet seat.
“Hey, hey, hey…what's the matter, babe?”
“I'm pregnant,” she said, handing him the test results.
“Get the fuck out of here!”
“Yeah, well, that's what I thought about two minutes ago.”
“Are you sure?”
“I'm making an appointment with my GP tomorrow or I'll drop by the Sandy Hill Health Clinic on short notice if they'll see me.”
Samuel couldn't stop himself from smiling because he wasn’t consciously aware he was doing it. “This is just fucking incredible news! We've got to celebrate… oh wait, no, you can't drink. You’re pregnant.”
“Don't get your drawers in an uproar. I wanna get checked first by a doctor.”
“Sure, babe, sure. Holy fuck! I'm so thrilled! I can't believe it!”
“There's something else we need to talk about,” said Magdalene.
“Yes, what is it?”
“You're not going to believe who I ran into in the market.”
Samuel kneeled in front of Magdalene, rubbing her tummy, smiling, reaching up to her hair, brushing it, and then stroking her cheek.
“I'm sure I will believe it. After this news I could really care less.”
“You will care, believe me.”
“So, don't keep me in suspense. I came home thinking we could have an early session upstairs…we'll have to take it easy seeing that you're pregnant.”
“Just shut up and listen for a second,” said Magdalene.
“I'll be very, very easy on your luscious body and stretch you a teensy weensy bit.”
“Will you shut the fuck up, please!” demanded Magdalene.
“Who did you meet?” asked Samuel.
“Your father,” said Magdalene. “He's coming for dinner tonight at eight.”
Samuel stood upright, moving back from Magdalene; the look on his face was an expression of disbelief.
“What?” he said. “Who?”
“Yeah, that's how I reacted. You're going to need to sit for this one, Samuel. I'll tell you everything that happened.”