12 Deaths of Christmas: Day 2 (Two Turtledoves)

  "Oh my goodness, Robert, it's beautiful," Mary exclaimed, pulling the figurine from the small ornately wrapped box. She held the pair of clear glass birds in her palm. 

  "Oh and it's heavy too," she said as her arm dropped slightly. 

  "They're turtledoves," Robert explained with a smile, scooting closer to Mary on the couch and putting his arm around her shoulders. 

  "They're a symbol of love and now these two glass birds will be the perfect symbol of our love." 

Mary smiled down at the birds as happy tears filled her eyes. 

  "You are too sweet to me," she squealed, leaning over and planting a gentle kiss on Robert's lips. 

  "Well you deserve every second of it," he insisted.

  "And I feel terrible because your present hasn't gotten here yet," Mary told him. She leaned across his lap and set the turtledoves on her end table. As soon as they left her hand, Robert pushed her down against his legs and smacked her butt.

  "I know a present you can give me that doesn't need to be delivered."

Mary threw back her head and laughed.

  "You're lucky I love you so much cause that was the worst line ever."

  "But did it work?" Robert asked.

 Mary wriggled off his lap and grabbed his hand pulling him toward the bedroom.

  "Let's find out." 

   

  "He gave you a turtledove figurine?" Jennifer asked, raising an eyebrow as she looked at the picture on Mary's phone.

  "Don't say it like that," Mary chided, shoving her co-worker's arm gently. "It's pretty. He said they represent love." 

  "So does giving you money for a designer handbag," Jennifer said. 

  "Not all of us are as materialistic as you. I would rather receive a gift that means something." 

  "To each their own I guess," Jennifer shrugged, giving Mary her phone back. 

  "Come get coffee with me," she suggested, brightly. 

  "You know I can't stand that stuff," Mary contested, sticking out her tongue and faking a gag. 

  "The place I usually go is serving a special peppermint hot cocoa for the holidays. You can get that. I just don't wanna go by myself."

   Jennifer sat on the edge of Mary's desk and stared down at her with a pouty face. 

  "Oh alright," Mary agreed finally. "But it better not be too cold outside." 

"Can I have a medium peppermint hot chocolate please?" Mary said to the girl behind the counter. The cafe Jennifer had brought her to was small but homey. Christmas music played gently in the background and each table had a red or green tea candle in the center. 

"Yes ma'am. Is that all?" the girl asked with a polite smile. 

"Yes that's all, thank you."

"That will be $4.25 Cash or card?" 

"Card," Mary answered, holding it out. The girl reached for it and Mary caught sight of the silver bracelet on her arm. The chain was bare except for two small birds whose beaks were touching exactly like the figurine she had received the night before.

"That's such a pretty bracelet," Mary commented, as the girl swiped her card.

"Oh thank you," she said, her face lighting up at the compliment. "My boyfriend Robert gave it to me yesterday. He said it was a symbol of our love." 

 Mary felt all the blood drain from her face.

"Your boyfriend gave it to you?" she repeated, as the girl handed her credit card back.

"Yes. He is so sweet to me and the best part is he works right across the street in that building so sometimes I get to see him during lunch. 

Mary turned to look at the building the girl indicated. Her stomach dropped. She had been to that building several times to bring Robert lunch and sometimes they would eat together at the fountain out front. 

 The girl continued to talk but Mary could not focus on what she was saying. She saw the image in her head of Robert handing her that figurine and saying he loved her. She felt the warmth of his hand in hers and the soft touch of his lips against her cheek. It had all been so perfect and now it was all a lie. 

"Ma'am, do you want your drink? I'm sorry to rush you but there are others in line," the barista's voice broke into her reverie. 

"You can keep the drink, I just want this," Mary said, and before she knew what she was doing, she had slipped the bracelet from the girl's wrist and was pushing past the customers behind her to get to the exit. 

"Ma'am what are you doing? That's mine! Someone stop that lady!"

 Mary heard the girl yelling as she flung the door open and ran out onto the sidewalk. Looking over her shoulder she saw Jennifer dash out after her looking angry and confused.

"Mary come back! They're gonna call the cops," she shouted. But Mary ignored her. Robert would be home from work in a couple hours and she was going to be there to greet him.

 "Hey, baby. Did you get off work early today?" Robert said, walking into the apartment exactly at six. He hung his grey pea coat on the hook next to the door and turned to Mary who sat smiling on the couch. 

 "Yes. I wasn't feeling well so I decided to come home and rest."

 "Oh I'm sorry to hear that," Robert said with concern in his voice. He sat down to next to Mary and put a hand on her arm. 

 "I see that you're wearing the bracelet I...gave you? Wait how did you..."

Robert let his sentence trail off looking first at Mary and then around the apartment in confusion.

 "Are you looking for this?" Mary snapped, pulling the turtledove figurine out from behind her back and shoving it in Robert's face. 

"Yes. If I gave you that then how did you get the bracelet?" Robert looked at Mary and his face flushed bright red as he realized he had given himself away.

"How did I get the bracelet you gave to your other girlfriend? That's a great question, Robert. It turns out you and Jennifer go to the same coffee shop and your side piece works there. Or am I the the side piece? Sorry, I didn't stop to ask her all the details of her relationship with my boyfriend while I was stealing her bracelet." 

 Mary glared at Robert gripping the figurine so tightly her fingers turned white around its smooth glass edges.

"No of course you're my number one," Robert insisted, scooting away slightly from Mary who was looking more angry every second. 

"You got the bigger gift, baby. I thought you liked it," Robert said, assuming a pouting expression in an attempt to make himself the victim.

"I liked it when I thought it meant something," Mary yelled, tears springing to her eyes as she stood up from the couch and towered over Robert.

"Now it's just a stupid hunk of glass I don't want anymore. So here. You can have it back."

 Mary punctuated this last word with a quick and powerful swing of her hand. The figurine smacked hard against the side of Robert's head and he sank back against the couch cushions. 

"Why aren't you taking it? Don't you want it back? It's a symbol of our love," Mary cried out, swinging it at him again. This time she hit his forehead and it made a sickening crunch. Blood trickled down from his hairline and his eyes were wide open in shock. Mary stared at them for a minute that seemed like eternity. They did not close. 

 Shakily, she stood up and looked around. The room was still and silent. The clock on the wall read 6:15 and it was dark outside. 

"Probably a good time to go to bed," Mary thought. "I do have work tomorrow after all." 

 She set the figurine down on the end table and stepped over Robert's legs on the way to her bedroom. 

"What a nice day today was," she told herself as she undressed completely and slipped into bed. "It was so nice of Jennifer to take me to that coffee shop. Robert loves coffee. I will have to take him there sometime."

12 Deaths of Christmas: Day 1 (Partridge in a Pear Tree)

 "Are you sure this is a good idea?" James asked. Marissa rolled her eyes as she flung the wad of dough onto the floured counter top and began flattening it with a rolling pin.

 "James we have talked about this for weeks. Honestly I think it's the least we can do for her after what happened."

 "I just want you to be safe," James explained. "And what is that noise?" 

 "I'm rolling out the dough for biscuits," Marissa told him, smiling proudly though she knew he couldn't see it. 

 "Well at least remember to set a timer this time."

 "You're right. I will hang up with you so I can do that right now," Marissa threatened, grabbing the phone with a floured hand and yelling into the speaker bar. 

 "And what do you mean you want me to be safe? Mrs. Partridge is like ninety years old. What is she going to do? Glare at me?"

 "I don't know, I'm just saying she is bound to be upset after what happened. The last thing we need is her spending Christmas in the ER cause you two got in a yelling match and gave her a heart attack."

 "This isn't a yelling match, its an apology. You know that and it bothers me that you think I would invite her over to be yelled at."

  James sighed loudly as Marissa set the phone back down on the counter and returned to her dough. 

"You're right. I know you have good intentions. I think I'm just upset that I won't be able to be there," James admitted. "This was supposed to be our first Christmas together."

 "I know, babe. I'm upset too. But the blizzard can't last forever. I'm sure there will be flights opening up again in a couple days."

 "I hope so. I can't wait for you to see what I got you." 

 "I can't wait either," Marissa said, picking up the phone and taking James off speaker. "But I have to go now. I need to finish dinner and call Mrs. Partridge to make sure she is still coming." 

 "Alright well you two have fun. Let me know how it goes. Love you, babe," James said. Marissa smiled again and made kissing noises into the phone.

 "Love you too. I'll see you soon." 

  Mrs. Partridge made her way across the kitchen to where the phone hung on the wall next to the sink. All her friends kept insisting she get a cell phone so she could keep it with her and not have to get up every time the phone rang but Mrs. Partridge knew better. She had heard what the radio waves from cell phones could do to your brain and she wasn't about to be another victim just for the sake of convenience.

  "Hello, Deborah Partridge speaking. Who's calling please?" 

  She caught her breath as she waited for the voice on the other end of the phone to respond.

  "Oh yes. Hello, Marissa. Yes I am still planning to come over for dinner."

  Another silent pause.

  "No, I don't need help. You live two doors down from me," Mrs. Partridge snapped. Why did young people seem to think she was helpless without them? 

  "5:30 is fine, yes. I will see you then." 

   Mrs. Partridge hung up the phone and walked over to the fridge. Opening the door, she reached in for a mint green Tupperware bowl with a clear plastic lid. Smiling down at it, she placed it on the kitchen table and closed the fridge.

   This was the opportunity she had been waiting for and she didn't even have to plan it. Marissa had done it all for her. This would certainly be a Christmas Eve to remember. 

  Marissa hurried to the door and flung it open. Mrs. Partridge stood there in a dark blue winter jacket and brown fuzzy boots. She held an ugly colored Tupperware bowl and her smile showed all the teeth she had left.

  "Mrs. Partridge, so good to see you. Please come in," Marissa said, stepping to the side. 

  "Thank you, dear. It is nice to see you again as well," Mrs. Partridge answered, walking through the door. 
  "I brought some dessert for us," she said, holding the bowl out to Marissa. "Its pears from the tree in my backyard soaked in my own special syrup. It can be served cold or warm." 

 Mrs. Partridge took off her coat and held it out to Marissa as well.

  "That sounds amazing," she replied, awkwardly accepting the coat and trying to figure out how to hang it up in the closet while holding the Tupperware.

  "Dinner is almost ready so if you want to take a seat at the table right through there, I will join you in just a moment." 

  Mrs. Partridge nodded and padded slowly down the hallway Marissa had indicated. As soon as she turned her back, Marissa set the bowl of pears on the floor and grabbed a hanger from the closet. 

"I don't think I have ever been to your home before," Mrs. Partridge's voice echoed through the house from the dining room.

"You certainly do have interesting taste in wallpaper don't you?"

 Marissa sighed quietly as she leaned over to pick up the bowl and wondered if James had been right and this was a mistake.

  An hour later, after dinner and several glasses of wine, Marissa sat across from Mrs. Partridge trying her best to pay attention to her telling the story of how her raspberry preserves won a ribbon at the county fair ten years in a row.

 "That is so fascinating," Marissa said, doing her best to seem impressed by Mrs Partridge's accomplishment.

 "Yes, thank you," she replied. "It is one of the things I am most proud of along with my pears. Shall we have some now?" 

  "Most definitely," Marissa answered, happy for any excuse to leave the table and sneak another sip of wine. 

  "I will be right back." 

 Moments later Marissa returned to the table slightly more inebriated and holding two bowls full of pears and two spoons." 

 "Did you warm them or are they cold?" Mrs. Partridge asked, looking concerned. 

 "They are chilled still. Is that ok?" 

 "A good hostess would have asked her guest, but yes that is fine," Mrs. Partidge said, picking up her spoon.

 Marissa collapsed into her chair with a sigh she made no effort to hide.

"Mrs. Partridge, I asked you over here for dinner but also to make amends for something," Marissa admitted, taking a bite into a slice of pear. It was soft and the syrup made it extra sweet.

 "I am aware of the unfortunate occurrence on Halloween and the inadvertent part I played in it and I wanted to-" Marissa paused as she chewed on her second slice of pear. There was an itch in her throat. She coughed lightly and continued. 

 "I wanted to apologize for-" 

Marissa coughed again and dropped her spoon onto the table. The itch was back in her throat and it felt like it was beginning to swell. 

 "What did you want to apologize for?" Mrs. Partridge asked, sitting calmly across the table with her hands folded.

 Marissa shook her head and pointed helplessly at her throat which was growing tighter and tighter by the moment. 

"Oh my dear, you seem to be having some terrible allergic reaction. I hope it wouldn't have anything to do with the almond extract I put in the syrup. You're not allergic to almonds are you?"

 Marissa's eyes widened and she nodded. 

"Well that is a shame, isn't it? Were you aware that much like almonds are a poison to your body, chocolate is poison to a dog's? My dog for example who, because she didn't know any better, ate the whole plate of brownies you left sitting on your porch for the children on Halloween. Did you know that?" Mrs. Partridge hissed, pushing back her chair and getting to her feet. 

 Marissa sat there, clutching her throat trying desperately to remember where she'd put her Epi-Pen and Benadryl.

 "Greta was my baby. She was the only thing in this world I had left to love and you took her from me," Mrs. Partridge cried, pointing a bony accusatory finger at Marissa. 

 "She is dead now because of you. And so now you get what you deserve." 

Marissa reached out helplessly to Mrs. Partridge but the old woman just stood there looking down at her with an evil glare. Marissa collapsed onto the table struggling for breath until finally she was still. 

  Mrs. Partridge stood over her lifeless body and grinned with satisfaction. Finally she had her revenge. Marissa had taken the thing she loved most and now she had paid for it. 

  "I had no idea she was allergic to almonds," Mrs. Partridge said out loud to nobody. She smiled, satisfied with how convincing it sounded. The police would never suspect a nice old lady.

  As she walked through the house looking for a phone, Mrs. Partridge heard a strange noise like a high pitched whine. She adjusted her hearing aids and listened again. The noise was still there and it seemed to be coming from the living room.

  Mrs. Partridge made her way in there and scanned the whole room. A tall tree covered in golden lights and small red ornaments stood in the corner and the noise seemed to come from right underneath it. Confused, she walked over to the tree and looked around. She jumped back suddenly as the noise happened again and one of the boxes under the tree began to shake. 

 Warily, she took several steps back as the package began to move more and more and then the lid popped off and out jumped a fluffy golden puppy. Its little tail wagged furiously and it barked and yipped happily at seeing Mrs. Partridge. 

  The old woman stood there stunned as the puppy ran over to her and jumped up, biting at the hem of her red Christmas dress. It ran over to the lid of the box, grabbed it in its teeth and pulled it to Mrs. Partidge as if wanting to play tug-of-war. 

  She bent down and snatched the lid from the puppy's mouth. It had a sticker on it shaped liked a wreath and "To: Mrs. Partridge" was written in green ink. She felt her stomach sink and she flopped down onto the couch. The puppy jumped up next to her and excitedly licked at her face. 

  "What have I done?" she asked it, as tears welled in her eyes. "She had me over to apologize and I-" Mrs. Partridge stopped mid-sentence, unable to say out loud what she had done. 

  No, she could not sit here and wallow. Marissa had given her this animal to take care of and it was her responsbility now. She continued to let the tears flow as she pushed herself up from the couch and continued her search for a phone. 

  "Hello, 911," she practiced, making sure her voice sounded as sad as she could make it. "Yes, there is a young lady here and I think she is having an allergic reaction. No, she is not breathing. Yes, she may be dead." 

Bailey Meets Someone

   Bailey pushed open the door to the room where Thomas was being held and peeked inside. He lay there on the floor as she had last seen him, weak and bleeding. At the sound of the hinges squeaking, he looked up slightly and managed a smile.

 "Bailey, is that you?" he asked. She nodded and smiled back. 

 "Yes, Thomas it's me. How are you feeling?" she asked, and then immediately regretted it. Obviously he was feeling terribly and had been for quite some time. How could she not have known till now? She could have done something. Could have saved him.

"I have had better days to be honest," he said, lifting himself up carefully on one elbow. He looked through the darkness at Bailey blinking slowly.

"Why are you here? Did the vampires find you too? Have they hurt you yet?" 

Bailey swallowed a lump in her throat and awkwardly twirled a piece of hair between her fingers. How was she supposed to tell her friend that she was not in fact a victim of the monsters who had attacked him but a member of their kind? 

"No, Thomas. They haven't hurt me," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

"Really? Not even a bite?" 

"Well no not exactly, I-" 

"You're one of them aren't you?" Thomas said suddenly, his voice cold and accusing. "I can see it in your eyes and I feel the energy in the room. You can smell my blood and you want it." 

Bailey took a step back and pressed herself against the wall of his room. He was right and she had not realized it till just now. She did want his blood and now that she was aware of the urge, it was only becoming stronger.

"Thomas I-I have to go," she stammered, running her hands along the wall till she came to the door. 
"I will get you out of here, though I promise. No one else will hurt you." 

As quickly as she could, Bailey made her way down the hall until she came to the stairs. Descending them two at a time, she made her way through the darkness of Stephen's house to the front door and swung it open. 

Twilight was settling in as the sun retracted its warm rays and the nighttime song of crickets replaced the cheery chirps of the birds. Bailey stepped outside onto the grass and looked around. A squirrel ran across the yard and up into a tree and for a second, she found herself wondering if squirrel blood could satisfy her the way a human's did. 

"They don't taste as good as you'd think," said a voice from the growing darkness. Bailey gasped and looked around. 

"Who said that?" she demanded. "Who is here? It's not safe, you should leave." Bailey wanted to sound threatening but her words came off as more of a suggestion.

"You're right, it isn't safe. At least not for that squirrel. You were thinking about eating him weren't you?"

"No," Bailey lied. "Why would I do that? No normal person eats squirrels."

"That's true," said the voice again and this time it was joined by a tall dark figure. He had dark skin and shoulder length wavy black hair. His shirt was linen and he wore long jeans that flared at the bottom.

"But you're not normal and you're also not a person." 

"I take offense to that," Bailey said, stepping up to this stranger and frowning slightly. 

"I certainly am a person and this is my home and you're trespassing."

"Your home? So Stephen has finally moved on?" 

"You know Stephen?"

"For some time now, yes." 

"So then you know what he is. What I am."

"Yes I do," the tall man replied. 

"And you're not scared of us?"

"Why would I be? I am one of you as well."

"You're a vampire?" Bailey asked loudly, then thought better of it and covered her mouth. The man smiled and nodded.

"Stephen must have turned you then and that's why you're friends," Bailey said, pleased with herself for putting the pieces together. 

"Not exactly," the man answered. "But enough about me for a minute. Why are you walking around by yourself looking sad and thinking about draining squirrels?"

"I found out one of my friends is locked up in the house and Stephen has been draining him for meals. And when I went in to help him, he said he could tell I am a vampire. He is going to think I'm a monster and I am." 

Bailey collapsed on the ground and put her face in her hands. 

"Did you bite this friend?" the man asked. Bailey looked up in shock.

"Of course not!"

"Then maybe you're not as monstrous as you think you are. 

"I am. And if I am not now I will be soon. Stephen and Darby will make sure of it."

"Darby is here?"

"Yes," Bailey answered, raising an eyebrow. "How do you know Stephen and Darby?" 

"That is a story for another time," he said with a smile that lit up his friendly brown eyes. 

"Do you want to come inside and talk to them? I can get Stephen to invite you in."

The young man smiled and shook his head. 

"Stephen would never let me set foot in his house. But I would like to talk to Darby. Do you think you can bring her outside?"

"Yes of course," Bailey told him. "Who should I say is asking for her?"

"Did I not introduce myself yet? I'm sorry. It's nice to meet you. My name is George." 

Darby Makes a Friend

  Darby walked across the field feeling the wet grass against her feet. When she was human it may have been a sensation she enjoyed but now it was just annoying. The sky was overcast and a light mist still lingered over the park. It was a perfect afternoon to go hunting. The park was mostly deserted and if Darby was crafty enough, she would not have to worry about witnesses to her meal.

 The hungry vampire rounded a corner and saw a young man sitting under a tree on a colorful blanket. She remembered the pattern on it being called tye-dye. The world had changed a lot over the last five decades and Darby struggled to keep up. Now instead of simple frocks and classy hats, women wore long flowing dresses or pants with wide legs. They put flowers in their hair and danced to songs about peace and love. The men also wore long pants and vests with fringes. They played guitars and drums and smoked funny smelling cigarettes. Some people disapproved of this behavior but Darby found it fascinating. 

  The man in front of her wore long jeans with holes in the knees and sandals on his feet. His pale yellow T-shirt was decorated with a light blue round symbol Darby recognized as the sign for peace. His skin was dark brown and his wavy black hair hung down to his shoulders. He wore round sunglasses with black rims and looked down intently at the strings of the guitar he was strumming. 

  Darby approached him casually twirling a lone pale finger through her black hair. The sunlight shone briefly for a moment between the grey clouds and Darby ducked into the shade of the tree. 

  "Hello there," said the young man looking up at her. She caught a glimpse of his dark brown eyes under his sunglasses. 

  "Hello," she responded. "Is there room on your blanket for another?" 

  "Always," the young man said cheerfully, gesturing next to him. Darby sat down and tucked her legs under the knee length skirt of her floral dress. She smiled sweetly at her new potential victim and blinked slowly making a show of her long lashes.

 "I liked the song you were playing," she said in a honeyed tone. The man chuckled. 

 "Calling it a song is pretty generous. I just got this from my dad last week for my birthday." 

 "Happy birthday," Darby squealed, disgusted at how happy and cheerful she sounded. "How old are you now?"

 "Twenty four," the young man answered. "What about you?"

"Do you always ask a woman her age?" 

The young man shrugged. 

"Only when she asks mine." 

 Darby sat and stared at the wet green grass trying to remember how old she was when she had been turned. Was it twenty or twenty one? Twenty two?

"I am twenty one," she said finally. The young man laughed and shook his head.

"No you're not." 

Darby raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" 

"You have been coming to this park since I was a kid and you have always been the same age. You never get any older." 

"You are making things up," Darby said nervously, her tongue sliding up and down the back of her fangs. "Have you been smoking one of those funny smelling cigarettes? They make people say strange things." 

"I did a little while ago," the young man admitted. "But I'm not that far gone. You're obviously a vampire." 

Darby cocked her head to the side. 

"What is happening right now?" she said to no one in particular. The young man continued to strum his guitar.

"You don't have to worry, I'm not going to tell anyone about you." 

"That is all well and good but if you have noticed me hanging around this park for years, it is likely others have also. And that is a risk I do not want to take. I have to leave." 

"Well if you're interested, I am leaving with some friends tonight to drive across the country to San Francisco. We have heard there is some pretty rad stuff going on there right now." 

"I have never been to California. Maybe it is time for a change," Darby mused. "But I obviously can't go with you and your friends. The sun coming in through the windows will burn me to ash." 

"Oh yeah, right on," the young man said, taking off his sunglasses and cleaning both round lenses with the hem of his shirt. 

"Perhaps I will find my own way to San Francisco and see you there."

"It's a pretty big city but yeah that'd be cool." 

The young man put his sunglasses back on and pulled a thin white cigarette out of his pocket. The rain had begun in earnest again and Darby scooted closer to her new friend on his blanket. 

"You wanna smoke?" he offered, extending the rolled up paper toward her? 

Darby frowned at it.

"I feel like these little things make fools of people but I suppose I could try it just this once since there is no one around." 

"You got it, Miss-" the young man stopped short and Darby realized she had not even introduced herself. 

"Darby. And you are?" 

"George," the young man said. He pulled a lighter out of the pocket of his ripped jeans. "And this smoke comes with a catch." 

"What do you mean?" 

George reached up and moved his wavy hair over one shoulder leaving the side of his neck facing Darby exposed.

"You have to bite me."