Act Two

"Are you ready yet?” Stuart called from the kitchen.  “I don’t wanna be late!”

Astrid came up and hugged him from behind, delighting in surprising him.  “Ja, I’m ready.”

She sighed happily as Stuart turned around and gave her a proper hug.

“God, you look fantastic, love!  I like that new skirt, but it’s a bit short, don’t ya think?  No wonder George hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off your legs!  Ya know, th’ poor lad really needs to find a girl, or else he’s gonna explode.”

Astrid laughed.  “I know, I really shouldn’t be so cruel as to tease him, but it’s so much fun to make him blush.”

“Well, not really cruel, more…..kittenish,” Stuart said after a pause.  “It’s kinda fun to watch, too.  It’s a good thing I know you’re in love with me, Astrid, or else I’d start to get jealous from th’ way you’re flirting with him all th’ time!”

Astrid thought that she was extremely lucky to have found such a talented, handsome, intelligent and tolerant man to fall in love with.  She was grateful he didn’t mind her small flirtations with George, because she thought of the lad as her juenger bruder, her youngest brother; he was her ‘little love’, her petit amour.  The love she felt for George, for all the boys in the band, was different from the love she felt for Stuart, but it was love regardless.  She kissed her lover and let him know without words that he had nothing to be jealous about.

“Mmmmm, you look good enough to eat, Astrid,” he murmured in her ear, and she shivered at his breathy whisper.

“That vill haf to vait, my love, or ve’ll be awfully late!” she replied breathlessly.

He laughed and agreed.  They left the house together after kissing Astrid’s mother goodnight, and drove to the club, quickly parked the car and walked into the building.  Blinking to adjust her eyesight to the darkness, her eyes dazed by the neon lights outside, Astrid heard a hail and turned blindly towards the stage, finally making their friends out.  She followed Stuart over to the stage.

“Hullo, John, hullo, Pete!  ‘ow are ya?” Stuart called out.

“Ya playin’ with us again tonight, Stu?” Pete asked quietly, sitting behind his drums.  Astrid had seen him set up his kit often enough that she knew he was checking their placement to ensure nothing had moved since last night.

“Yeah, John asked, thought I’d have a bash for old times sake.  Where’s Paul an’ George?”

John set his guitar down and came down off the stage to join them; Astrid was surprised when he kissed her on the cheek, he wasn’t usually that demonstrative.  Or talkative, she realized with a chuckle; she thought he must have already taken some of the prellies that were very nearly mandatory fare to perform for such long hours each night.

“’ow are ya, Stu?  Astrid, ya look marvelous, gurl!  Th’ lads are still upstairs, think they’re both comin’ down with a cold or somethin’, they’re actin’ really tired.  They’d better come down shortly, though.  So what’s been goin’ on?  I can’t get used ta not seein’ ya durin’ th’ weeks, but it’s great ya can stop by on th’ weekends, we miss ya both.”

Astrid listened to Stuart and John for a few moments and then decided she’d go check on the boys upstairs.  She couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease her young friend about sleeping late.  But if he was coming down with a cold, then she’d better make some tea and chicken soup for him!  All the boys were kleiner schelm, naughty rascals, but George was her personal favourite, he was still so sweet and innocent…..and so easy to tease, she thought with an inner laugh.

“I’ll go see if George and Paul are ready, ja?” she asked, breaking into the conversation, getting a vague nod from both men. 

Climbing up the stairs, she knocked at the appropriate door and then waited.  There was no sound from within.  She knocked again, louder, and was finally rewarded with a growl from inside the room.

“What d’ya want?”

“Paul, it’s Astrid, are you and George ready yet?”

She heard grumbling and some swearing, then the sound of footsteps approaching the door, and finally the door was pulled open.  Paul stood there, blinking at the light from the hallway, half dressed and looking quite sleepy.

“You must haf had a very late night,” Astrid teased, then her breath caught in her throat and her heart started pounding in fear.  The mark on Paul’s neck was very visible in his shirtless state, and he was looking at her in confusion.  She pushed her way into the room, turning on the overhead light and looking at him closely.

“Paul?  You must tell me, haf you seen a dark-haired voman around here, very pretty, very…..sensual?  Dark hair, dark eyes, red lips.  Elegantly dressed?”

“Oh, yeah,” Paul said listlessly, moving to the bed and pulling on his shirt, fumbling with the buttons.  “She was ‘ere last night.”  He gave her a grin and a wink that left her with no doubt he’d been with the woman.

Astrid swallowed in sudden fear, wondering why she hadn’t been more adamant in cautioning her friends about the woman.  They’d left it at one word of warning, but that had been when the lads had first arrived in Hamburg, nearly two months ago!  Perhaps they should have been worrying about Paul instead of George.

“Antanasia…..Antanasia was ‘ere?” 

The very weak voice came from the top bunk on the right, and Astrid’s fear suddenly trebled.  She quickly stepped up onto the bottom bunk and looked into the very pale and drawn face of her youngest friend as he blinked dazedly at her.

“Oh, George, nein!  Gott in himmel.  Oh, mein liebling, oh, nein.  Oh, no, my little love,” she whispered, stroking his hair back from his forehead, turning his head gently and seeing the marks on his neck, one old bruise and one very fresh.  She knew that she and Stuart had made a great mistake, they’d let the weeks slip past and had let their guard down because nothing had happened.  Oh, dear God.  She kissed George on the forehead, took his hand in hers and felt his pulse at his wrist; it seemed so rapid and weak.  She didn’t have a lot of medical training, but she had enough to know that he needed some attention.

Stepping down off the lower bunk, she turned to Paul, eyeing him critically.  He didn’t seem to be in as bad shape, he was at least upright.  It didn’t look as though George could even get up.  She took Paul by the arm and shook him.

“Go downstairs and get Stuart.  And John.  George is very ill, he must be taken to hospital.  Hurry, Paul, hurry!”

She shook him again and pushed him out the door before turning back to George, her mind racing and her heart pounding in abject fear.  She brushed the limp hair back from his eyes again, listened to his shallow breathing.  He’d either fallen asleep or he was unconscious, she wasn’t sure which.  She didn’t think they’d be able to get him on his feet, they’d have to carry him.  Well, he was a skinny lad, she thought with a thread of amusement, but it would be awkward, perhaps between Stuart and John, they could accomplish it.  She turned to the door in relief when it opened.

“Stuart, please, my love, he’s very ill, ve need to take him to hospital, can you and John carry him to my car?”

“What th’ bloody hell’s wrong with him?” John asked, striding into the room and stepping up beside Astrid, peering into the top bunk.  He reached out and shook George by the shoulder.  “He’s just fakin’ it, he’s fine, he sleeps like th’ dead, that’s all.  C’mon, Georgie, wake up, junior!”

Astrid shivered at his choice of words, then pushed him with all her strength, succeeding in knocking him back from the bunk bed.  “Stop it, John, he’s very ill, I tell you truth.  Stuart, love, please help me, this is serious, I am very frightened for him.”

She turned to look at her beau, pleading with him.  He must have seen her desperation, because he nodded shortly and came over to the bed.  Astrid stepped back as her lover and his friend worked to pull the limp body out of the top bunk. 

Getting George down the stairs was more difficult than she’d thought it would be, and she breathed a sigh of relief when Stuart finally tucked the lad into the back seat of her car.  At least they hadn’t had to dress him, he’d apparently fallen asleep in his clothes the previous night.  But he’d been all dangling limbs and dead weight, dead to the world.  Stop thinking ‘dead’, she told himself in sudden trepidation, shivering uneasily.

“I’ll take him to hospital, you two must go back inside now, it’s time for the show.  Stuart, you know vhat ve haf talked about before, this is serious and dangerous, my love, here, take this and put it on, and keep an eye on Paul, he is in danger as vell.  I must go, I’ll be back later.  Please do as I ask, Stuart.”

She handed him her small gold crucifix, the one that had belonged to her grandmother, praying he’d put it on.  She started the car, and pulled out into traffic, speeding to the closest hospital she knew.  Pulling up next to the emergency room, she jumped out and ran into the building, grabbing the first orderly she saw.

“Holen Sie einen Arzt,” Astrid commanded, pulling him by the arm insistently, directing him to where George lay in the back seat of her car.  “Schnell, schnell!” 

Couldn’t the man see that the poor boy needed a doctor, and as quickly as possible, she wondered in irritation?  She stepped back as another orderly came out with a gurney and watched as they pulled George from the car and strapped him onto the bed, then rolled him inside for medical care.

After filling out all the necessary paperwork, Astrid told the woman at the waiting desk that she’d be in the hospital library, and she spent long minutes there, leafing through several books before she found what she was seeking in a book of baby names.  Shivering at the cold chill of fear that ran up her back, she closed the book with nerveless fingers and walked the quiet hallway, returning to the emergency room.  She breathed a sigh of relief at the report and found the correct room, peeking around the door to ensure she could enter.

George was propped up in bed, his pale skin nearly invisible against the starched white sheets.  His eyes were closed, his mouth drooped open, and tubes snaked from glass bottles of blood which hung on poles attached to the head of his bed, the viscous red fluid slowly dripping into veins in both arms where the tubes were attached.  He looked like a sick little boy, and Astrid wanted to cuddle him to her breast, wanted to take all the pain away from him.  He’d always been her favourite after Stuart, and she felt incredibly tender towards the young man she’d spent so many hours teasing; she’d felt friendship with him during his first trip to Hamburg, but had grown even closer to him during this, the band’s second trip to her homeland.  She walked over and sat on the bed at his side, reaching trembling fingers to brush the hair from his eyes, surprised when his eyelids fluttered open.

“Hullo, George, how are you feeling?” she asked gently.

He cleared his throat, his eyes not quite focusing correctly, and his voice was still very weak when he answered her, she thought critically.

“Fine, I’m fine.  Whur am I?”

“You’re in hospital, George.  Your…..blood count vas dangerously low, and the doctor is giving you a transfusion.  How do you really feel, liebling?”

He gave her a weak, crooked grin.  “Like shit, I’ve never been so tired in me life.”

There was a long silence; his smile faded, then he asked haltingly, “Am I dyin’, Asser?”

“No!” she gasped in renewed fear, then got hold of her voice.   “No, George, you’re not dying, I promise.  You’ll be able to leave hospital in the morning, you’ll feel better then, and Stuart and I vill come get you.  Oh, liebchen, mein freund, my little love, you break my heart.”

She crawled up onto the bed at his side, very carefully avoiding his intravenous lines, tenderly cuddling his slight frame in her arms, kissing his cheeks and forehead, laying his head against her and holding him tight for a long time.  He was quiet and limp in her embrace, and she thought that he’d fallen asleep as she held him.  Looking down, she saw that his eyelids had drifted shut, his long lashes fanning across his gaunt and prominent cheekbones.  Was there a little colour coming back into those pale cheeks?  Oh, she prayed so.

“Oh, George, didn’t you remember our varning about the dark voman, the dangerous von?” she whispered, and his response startled her, she’d been so sure he was asleep.

“Oh, yeah, I ‘member what ya said, love,” he said, his voice sluggish and tired, “but I ‘aven’t seen anyone strange or dangerous, don’t you worry.  But I met a gurl, Astrid, she’s so beautiful.  She’s all I can think about, all I can dream about.  She’s there when I shut me eyes, an’ I want ‘er so bad I jus’ can’t think straight.”  His voice dropped to a faint whisper, blurred with fatigue.  “I think I’m in love with ‘er, Asser.  She’s incredible, she’s all I ever wanted……”

Astrid pulled him closer in her arms and rested her cheek against his head, shutting her eyes in fear and heartache, holding him tightly as he drifted into an exhausted slumber.  She held him like that for several hours, but he didn’t stir.

Crawling out of his bed much later, straightening her skirt as she stood up and stretched, her eyes fell on the crucifix above his bed, thank God she’d brought him to a Catholic hospital.  He’d be safe for the night, but what could they do after he was released?  She didn’t know if he’d consider wearing a cross like the one she’d given Stuart, but she’d have to stop by a jewelers as soon as possible anyway, she determined.  But how could she break the vampire’s hold on the boy? 

She worried about that as she slowly drove back to the Reeperbahn, parking outside the Top Ten and walking into the noisy, smoky club.  She saw Stuart notice her entrance and make a signal to John.  She wasn’t surprised when the set was abruptly ended and they jumped off the stage to join her.

“He’ll be all right, he’s getting some transfusions tonight, ve can go get him tomorrow,” Astrid said as soon as they’d sat down at the table.

“What th’ hell’s wrong with ‘im?” John asked, lighting a cigarette. 

Astrid saw that his hands were shaking slightly and she frowned, he’d had too many of the prellies tonight, she thought.  She looked at Stuart and asked him a question with her eyes, could they talk about this now?  Stuart responded with a slight headshake and she frowned at him.  John was watching them with an angry frown; the amphetamines he’d taken had probably made his emotions especially volatile, she decided, trying to catch Stuart’s eye again and let him know they needed to talk about this!  Now!

“What?  What?  Yer holdin’ out on me, Stu, what’s goin’ on ‘ere?  C’mon, look, this is me band an’ me mates we’re talkin’ about.  What’s goin’ on?” John asked, his tone first angry, then pleading.

Astrid sighed, not looking at Stuart, hoping he’d understand.  This was too serious to play games with.

“Don’t you remember the voman ve tried to varn you about?  George has had a run in vit her.  Look, that vas your last set, right?  Come vit us, I’ll cook you breakfast.  Get Paul and Pete, too, they need to know vhat’s going on as vell.”

* * * * *

John dragged Paul off his barstool, the lad had nearly fallen asleep in front a half finished stein of lager.  What was going on here?  Paulie could always handle his drink.  John hoped that whatever was wrong with him and George wasn’t catching, but it was really starting to worry him, especially with Georgie having to go to hospital.  He found Pete talking with a few Exis and asked his mate to join them; they made their way out of the club and into Astrid’s car.  He noticed that she and Stu maintained a frigid silence on the trip to their place, and he wondered if they were having a spat.  He lit a cigarette and smoked quietly during the drive.

Astrid’s salesman father was on the road again, but they kept their voices low to avoid waking Mutter Kirchherr once they arrived.  John thought that they all loved Astrid’s mum, she wasn’t a fuddy-duddy like other old people, she didn’t mind longhaired musicians, and look how she’d welcomed his best friend into her house!  John had even lived there the previous autumn after Pete and Paul had been deported, and he thought the German frau had wanted to fatten him up, he’d certainly eaten well whilst living in the Kirchherr household!

Astrid refused to talk until they’d eaten, and by the time she’d fixed sausages and eggs and chips, Paul was asleep again, stretched out on the sofa.  Stu’d had to shake him to wake him up to eat, John reflected as he stretched out on the floor with a few pillows and a comfortably full stomach, holding affectionate Lody back and trying to keep the dog from licking his face.  He felt like sleeping himself, but his curiosity was roused by the continuing feud between Stu and Astrid.  Looked like Astrid had something to say, and Stuart didn’t want her to say it!

“I know you vill haf a big trouble beliefing me, but vhat I tell you is truth.  Paul, you know the dark-haired girl, the von you vere vit last night?”

John looked sharply at his mate.  Huh, so the girl was already two-timing young George, eh?  Bitch, he thought angrily, a protective instinct welling up in him at the thought of the younger lad being taken for a ride.  He’d seen the tentatively awkward bird-pull George had been engaged in at the club t’other night, and the kid had seemed pretty taken with the dark-haired girl.  He’d pretended to be sleeping when George had brought the girl into their communal room, but he hadn’t been able to resist applauding when the lad was finished, giving him a ‘well done’ and a bit of a slagging at the same time.

Well, John decided he couldn’t blame Paul for having the girl, he’d have taken her himself if the opportunity had risen, even though he didn’t really care for brunettes.  But the bitch was apparently just a band follower, eager to take on anything with two legs and the proper equipment.  Poor Georgie, he thought.  He turned his attention back to Astrid after Paul nodded his confirmation.

“Vell, the voman is……”

“She’s bloody dangerous,” Stuart interrupted.  “We think she’s mad, insane, an’ we think she’s got some fixation on musicians, she’s been seen with far too many who’ve died under rather odd circumstances.”

John had been watching Astrid all though Stu’s rushed speech, and he could tell by her expression that it hadn’t been exactly what she’d wanted to say.  He turned to question Stu.

“What kinda odd circumstances?”

“Dead with no marks on ‘em, maybe drugs, who knows?  We know of two, an’ we think there’s been several others.  We don’t have any hard evidence, though, so we can’t go to th’ police.  An’ it might not be just musicians she….preys on.  There’s been some weird deaths reported in the papers lately, including one just the other night, some derelict found in an alley not far from th’ Top Ten, not a mark on him.”

“No marks except for some love bites on his neck,” Astrid added quietly, “like those on Paul’s neck, and on young George.  The same marks as on those ve are certain she vas responsible for.”

Stuart threw his hands into the air and paced over to the fireplace and back, not saying anything, finally throwing himself into a chair with an air of defeat.  John knew how to count, but this ‘two and two’ just didn’t add up.  Were they talking about…..?  Oh, no, this had to be a joke.  It was a couple of months late for April Fool’s Day, but they had to be having him on.  He started laughing.

“Right, you almost got me with this.  When’d ya work up such an elaborate joke?  An’ why?  Where’s Georgie?”

Astrid shook her head.  “Is not joke, I promise.  George is in hospital, I left him there not two hours ago.  He’s receiving blood transfusions in both arms.  He’s very sick right now.”

John got up and started pacing, to the fireplace and back, unconsciously echoing his friend’s pattern from just moments before.  Six steps one way, six steps back, it made for a bloody tight pattern, he thought irritably.  He stopped before he got dizzy.

“Look, are you tellin’ us……”  He stopped in confusion.  They’d laugh at him if he said what he was thinking.

Astrid caught his eye.  She nodded gravely as Stuart replied.

“All we’re saying is that th’ woman’s dangerous, an’ we think she’s got her claws into George.  There’s something off about her, we just gotta watch out for each other, an’ especially George.  An’ Paul,” he added, looking over at the couch. 

John followed his mate’s glance and saw that Paul had fallen asleep again.  Right, he thought, dangerous, that’s all.  He could believe that, but he just couldn’t believe anything else, no matter what his friends thought.  Maybe the bird was insane, maybe she had some sort of a thing for guitar players.  But then he thought about George, stuck in hospital, receiving transfusions.  Of blood.  They only did that if you were a liter low, didn’t they?  Like, if you’d been in an accident and had lost blood, right?

“’ow much blood’s ‘e gettin’?” he asked abruptly.

“He had two liters hanging vhen I left hospital, the doctor said they vould check him after that to see how much more is needed, perhaps two more,” Astrid replied.

Bloody hell!  He stepped over to Paul and turned the sleeping man’s head roughly, looked at the mark on his mate’s neck.  Just looked like a love bite, but there was no denying that his friend was acting differently, he didn’t even wake at being manhandled like this, and Paulie was a light sleeper.

“D’ya think he needs a transfusion?” he asked quietly, not directing his question towards anyone in particular, relieved when Astrid shook her head.

“No, he’s moving around all right, I think he’s probably fine.  Some rest and proper food should take care of him.  I don’t think he lost as much blood as George did.”

John looked over and locked gazes with Stuart.  He noticed a glint of metal at his mate’s throat and saw a gold crucifix, noticed Stu flush when he saw that John was looking at it.  This was bloody insanity.

“So is the bird a vampire or just a loony?” Pete asked casually.

John swallowed, he’d almost forgotten their silent drummer was there.  Well, the word had been spoken; it was out in the open now.  Astrid replied to the question calmly.

“Ve don’t know.  Vhether she is insane or…..or creature of legend, it is certain she thinks she is vampyr.”  She turned to Stu.  “Stuart, my love, George said her name tonight, she calls herself Antanasia.  Is Romanian name, I looked it up in hospital library.  Meaning of the name is von who vill be reborn, an immortal.” 

It sounded like she was pleading with Stu.  John noticed that her next comments were directed to everyone in the room, but he thought she looked at him most frequently as she spoke.

“Vhat she is or is not does not matter.  All that matters is that she thinks she is, even to the point of claiming a name that spells it out.  Ve are all in danger.  And George thinks he is in love vit her.  He is under her spell very deep, I don’t know how, but maybe she can hypnotize people, maybe with it being George’s first time, he vas truly susceptible to her.  Ve must determine how to save him.  Because if ve do not intervene, he vill die, just like those other musicians, just like the derelict in the alley.”

John stood quietly in thought for a long time, then finally moved over to the couch and shook Paulie awake.  “C’mon, lad, wake up, ya gotta hear this, we got some big problems, an’ we need ta figure out what ta do ‘bout ‘em.”

The five of them talked long into the night.  The one thing they all agreed upon was that George couldn’t know anything of their suspicions because he’d never believe them.

* * * * *

Oh, God, her remembered her touch, it was like fire and ice, cutting him through to his heart.  He could nearly taste her, feel her in his arms.

Come to me.

He tried, he wanted it, wanted her, more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life.  He tried, he fought, he struggled, but he couldn’t go, he couldn’t do it.

Come to me.

Sobbing with sheer desire, his heart pounding desperately, anxiety wracking his brain, the unquestionable need goading him on, he struggled more desperately, but whatever was keeping him away from her refused to let him go.

Come to me.

He fought harder, but his strength was waning.  A small, unnoticed pain in his arm was followed by a gradual descent into oblivion.  He moaned in despair as he slipped beneath the waves of the narcotic dulling his senses, stilling the fever in his mind, bringing peace to his body, depositing him into the void of unconsciousness.

* * * * *

“She says ve can’t take him home today, Stuart!”

Astrid turned back and spoke with the sister in charge, the conversation long and drawn out.  She finally turned to Stuart in defeat, leading him away from the information desk and towards the lift.  She punched the buttons impatiently.

“George had a difficult night, he tried to get out of bed, tried to pull out his transfusion lines, fought the sisters and the doctor like a mad person.  It’s not George, it’s her, I know it!  They had to drug him, and the doctor is very concerned, he vants to evaluate George for mental problems.  Vhat are ve going to do?  Ve haf to get him out of here, if they know vhat ve suspect, they’ll put us all avay in mental quarters, they vould never belief…..”

“Easy, love, calm down, let’s go see ‘im,” Stuart broke in soothingly.

Once the sluggish lift took them up to the third floor, Astrid led him down the corridor to George’s room and she peeked around the door before entering.  The lad wasn’t nearly as pale as he’d been, she thought thankfully, and she supposed his blood count was back to what it should be, because his intravenous lines had been removed.  She was dismayed to see that his wrists were tied down to the railings on his bed, but she had to smile at his look of supreme annoyance.  He was being fed breakfast by a young hospital volunteer, and he looked none too happy to be in such a position.  The smile that broke out on his face when he saw them was luminous.

“Astrid!  Stu!  Thank God, listen, ya gotta get me…..”

“Shhh, George, vait just a moment, all right?  You look much better today, mein freund, I’m so happy.”

She told the volunteer that they would finish with the patient’s breakfast, and the young girl left the room in obvious disappointment, probably at being deprived her opportunity to care for such a handsome young man, Astrid thought with amusement.  As soon as the door was closed, she hugged George while Stuart swiftly untied the boy’s wrist restraints, then watched as their friend rubbed his wrists with obvious enjoyment at being free.

* * * * *

George rubbed his wrists gleefully, thank God his hands were free now!  What the hell was going on, why had he been tied down, and what was he doing in hospital?  He pushed away the breakfast tray with a grimace of revulsion, the lumpy warm cereal and stewed prunes hadn’t been brekkie, they’d been torture!

“Ta, love, ta, Stu, what th’ hell’s goin’ on?  What am I doin’ ‘ere?  An’ why was I tied down like that?  I want out, ya gotta get me outta here, right now.  I can’t stand this!”

“Do you remember anything about last night?” Astrid asked, and George shook his head.

“Just some dreams, that’s all,” he replied, trying not to blush as he remembered the power of those incredibly erotic images he kept seeing in his head.  “Look, whatever reason they got fer havin’ me here, I need to get out, c’mon, please help me.”

Astrid looked at Stuart, who shrugged in reply.  “What’d you put on th’ paperwork, did you list anything they could track?” he asked.

Astrid sniffed.  “Of course I didn’t put down the truth on the admission papers, I’m not stupid.”  She rummaged through the few drawers in the stand beside George’s bed and pulled out his clothes; he accepted them gratefully.  “I’ll vatch outside the room, you help George get dressed,” she directed Stuart, walking out of the room.

George crawled out of bed, why did he feel so weak, he wondered?  Well, he must have been sick, but it would pass.  He barely listened to Stuart as he dressed, accepting his friend’s help only after he lost his balance trying to get into his trousers; he let Stuart steady him thereafter.

“You were pretty sick, mate, we had to carry you to th’ car, an’ Astrid brought you to hospital for treatment.  They said you were fighting th’ doctor an’ sisters last night, George, you weren’t all there, man.  Here, lemme do that.”

George let his friend button his shirt for him, his hands were shaking, he must have taken too many prellies last night or something, he just couldn’t remember much of anything, not even the day of the week or anything.  What was wrong with him, he wondered again?  Fighting?  He didn’t remember any of that.

Astrid came back in the room when Stuart summoned her, and George followed them out of the room, to the lift and out of the hospital to the car.  That had been easy, he thought in relief, taking a breath of fresh air.  He was surprised when he realized that Astrid wasn’t driving him back to the Top Ten.

“Whur we goin’, Asser?” he asked.

* * * * *

Astrid took a deep breath, hoping that Stuart wouldn’t raise a fuss; they hadn’t discussed this last night, she’d only just thought of it herself.

“George, ve’re taking you home vit us, you’ve been very ill and it’s important that you eat right and get enough sleep.  Living above the Top Ten is not an option, you vill be staying vit us for the rest of your time in Hamburg.”

She decided that she’d never loved Stuart more than at this moment, when he immediately joined in with her plan to persuade their friend.

“Yeah, we’ll take you to th’ club in th’ evenings an’ pick you up after your last set.”

“Ya want me stayin’ with ya fer th’ whole month?  How can ya do that?” George asked, his tone astonished.  “Astrid, you’ve gotta be at th’ studio in the mornings, an’ you’ve got classes durin’ th’ day, Stu.  We don’t finish playin’ until two in th’ mornin’.  Or later.”

“Don’t worry,” Stuart said confidently.  “We’ll take turns picking you up.  You’ve been really ill, though, an’ the doctor said you won’t fully recover unless you take care of yourself.  We’re just gonna ensure you do take care of yourself.  You don’t wanna feel this weak an’ shaky forever, do you?  You can have th’ attic room, that’s where John stayed last year, it’s pretty cozy, actually.”

George certainly didn’t protest much, Astrid thought with amusement as she showed him the attic room whilst Stuart went to the Top Ten to collect George’s belongings.  The boy was probably eager for a room of his own, however small, and the privacy it offered after sharing a room for the past two months.  Mother won’t mind, she thought with a smile, she adores the boys, and we’ve talked about young George. 

Lody followed them into the attic with much tail wagging and doggy smiles; Astrid thought the big Alsatian was still resentful about being ejected from her bedroom two years earlier, but the dog’s hair had showed up alarmingly on the new black carpet.  She looked at Astrid with an unmistakable air of ownership as she settled at the foot of George’s bed, and Astrid nearly laughed, wondering how long it would be before the tan and black dog tried to make a place for herself on the bed.  A thought made her pause and look at the dog with a critical eye.

“Lody, aufhalten, schuetzen,” she commanded, and the dog’s air of ownership vanished in a twinkle as she recognized the directives to stay and protect.  The big dog had been trained in obedience and guard duty as a young puppy; it had seemed like such a necessity with father on the road all the time, and Astrid was grateful for it now as the Alsatian went into ‘duty’ mode.

Astrid left George to get settled in his new room.  She thought that this was going to be a miserable hardship on her and Stuart, but it was only until the first of July, she reminded himself.  And with that creature after their young friend, it was important to protect him.  What better way than to keep him underfoot?

Keeping the boy underfoot was a full time job, she realized a week later, exhausted with all the work this was taking.  Stuart was looking tired, too, she thought.  George had been morose and despondant, wanting to go for walks late in the evening, and alone, he’d told them in no uncertain terms, but they’d been successful thus far in preventing that, once with Lody’s help as the dog had barked in warning when George tried to leave.  After that, Astrid got some sleeping pills from a friend and drugged George each night after bringing him home, telling him that they were vitamins the doctor had prescribed, making sure he’d fallen asleep before she went to bed herself.  She’d also put crosses at his window and over his door for insurance.  She knew that Stuart thought she was being silly, but he hadn’t commented, thank God.  She told herself that she didn’t mind if her lover thought she had an overactive imagination, as long as he believed the woman was dangerous, that was enough.

She was more concerned over George’s stubbornness.  As the boy’s strength had returned, he’d balked at some of the things that Astrid had suggested, including wearing a cross.  He’d outright refused that, and he’d begun complaining about what he was being fed, saying he didn’t like garlic and he didn’t care what the doctor had said about it being good for him.  Astrid was nearly at her wits end, tired from nights of very short sleep and worrying about their young ward.  Well, they’d just have to live with it, it was only another few weeks, after all.

* * * * *

“Tell John I’ll be back with Astrid in a bit, right?” Stuart told George, getting a simple nod in reply as his young friend got out of the car and walked to the club entrance.  “Hey, George?  That haircut looks really good, Astrid did a good job on ya!”

He laughed when George blushed and muttered something before slipping into the Top Ten.  Stu thought it was a shame that Pete was being so stubborn about joining in with the new fashion.  Astrid’s idea about cutting his mates’ hair had been a good one, the look was great on his mates, but Pete had simply refused the change, and the quiet drummer was odd man out, as usual.  Stu drove to the beauty shop to pick up his girl, sighing inwardly when he saw the ultra short cut Astrid was sporting.  Too bad she wouldn’t grow it out a little bit, he thought.

On the return trip, the conversation turned to his playing.

“I’m really enjoying playing with th’ lads, ya know?”

“Is it something you vould vant to take back up?  Full time?” Astrid asked.

“Nah, not really interested.  But it’s fun ta play on stage with ‘em from time to time.  It’s a real gas, but I don’t wanna make a living of it.”

Back at the Top Ten, Stu noticed that it was well past dark, but only half an hour before the band was to go on.  Looking around after greeting the lads, he realized he didn’t see George anywhere.

“Where’s our kid?” he asked.

“Oh, he was tired, went upstairs ta rest fer a bit before th’ show,” Paul offered as he changed a string on his guitar.

“Alone?” Astrid asked in surprise.

“Well, yeah, didn’t figure there was any harm……”

Stuart was racing for the stairs even before Astrid turned towards him.  Trust the lads to drop the ball after all their hard work, he thought savagely as he climbed the steps two at a time.  Paul had never believed that the woman was dangerous, no matter how much they’d tried to convince him, although he’d agreed to watch out for George.  Shit!

Stu hit the door and it crashed open into the room.  Shit, he thought again, gasping for air, hearing the obvious moans coming from the upper bunk, the woman astride a body that was more than likely George.  She lifted her head and turned to look at Stuart upon his hurried entrance to the room, blood clearly visible on her lips, her eyes narrowed in anger.

“Get out, you’ve kept him from me long enough, he’s mine,” she hissed.

“O…..ohhh, J…J…Jesus, Stu, can’t a guy have some privacy?”

Thank God, Stu thought, feeling limp and weak with relief; it was George’s voice, breathless and panting as the boy reached for the blankets and pulled them about himself and the girl.  Stu thought he must have interrupted them before she could do much, it was pretty obvious George had just finished the job, but it looked like the woman had just started hers.  Thank God, he thought again, taking a deep breath.

“Leave him alone,” he panted, watching with a sick fascination as the woman licked her lips, the crimson blood disappearing into her mouth as her eyes narrowed in a voluptuous pleasure that was somehow erotic.  She laughed, climbing off George, pushing the boy’s reaching hands away with ease, sliding out of bed and walking towards Stuart in complete and glorious nudity, a smile on those full red lips.

“You can’t stop me, you know.  All your petty little plans, your garlic laced food and your attempts to keep him away from me are weak,” she said quietly, scornfully.

Stu’s heart was beating rapidly in fear, his feet seemingly rooted to the floor as she approached him.  She reached out to grab him by the throat, then seemed to hesitate before pulling her hand back with a snarl.  The cross, he still had it on the chain around his neck, he’d never bothered to take it off since Astrid had given it to him a few weeks before, when George went into hospital!  He heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, thank God, reinforcements, his knees felt weak in relief.  He’d deny it if anyone asked, but he didn’t think he’d ever been so scared in his life!

“I’ll be back for him, you know,” the woman remarked conversationally, walking back to the bed and slipping into her discarded dress.  She gave him a wide berth as she left the room, heading for the back stairs, leaving only moments before Astrid and the lads burst into the room.

“George?” Astrid asked frantically. 

George peered over the edge of his bunk with a groan.

“Oh, Christ, can’t a guy get any privacy around ‘ere?” 

The boy pulled the covers around him before sitting up in bed, his lanky frame having to bend slightly to avoid hitting the ceiling, his bare legs dangling over the side of the bed, his countenance showing definite irritation as he glared at them.  Stuart’s eyes widened as he saw a thin trail of blood snake down his friend’s neck and drip onto his bare shoulder.

“I’d almost think ya didn’t want me havin’ any fun on this trip, yer always hoverin’ over me like ya don’t trust me or somethin’!” George burst out angrily.

Stu wondered what his friend was thinking, had he heard anything the woman had said?  Probably not, he decided, he’d had a near case of coitus interuptus, and the lad looked slightly shaky from that.  He watched as George scratched his shoulder absentmindedly and then stared at his fingers in surprise, the blood bright red and liquid on his fingertips.  Stu felt slightly queasy at the sight, and it looked as though George was feeling the same.  Jesus, Stu thought, he’d arrived in time, but only just barely.  He got a bit shivery then, thinking about his confrontation with the woman; she was a menace, and he decided that the crosses Astrid had put in the door and windows weren’t such a silly idear after all.

Stu stayed with George as he cleaned himself up and dressed; it was time for the show downstairs, and even though his friend was still angry, Stu knew his mate would go on stage.  He tried to apologize, tried to think of something that would smooth things over, but couldn’t come up with anything.

When the sets were finally through for the night, George turned obstinate and said he wanted to stay at the Top Ten, and Stu couldn’t convince the younger lad to return to his attic room.  Astrid finally turned up the pressure, batting her lovely lashes at the boy and affecting a wistful demeanor, touching his arm and pleading with him, somehow persuading George to come home with them.  Stu thought with amusement that Astrid should have been an actress, she’d laid it on a bit thick, but George had eaten it up like a cat with a bowl of cream, and he was looking somewhat smug as he climbed into the car with them.  The lad apparently hadn’t completely forgotten about his crush on Astrid in spite of his infatuation.

He held Astrid as she clung to him late that night after George had fallen asleep, her eyes wet with the tears she’d obviously been holding back all evening.

“Ach, Stuart, ve are going to lose him, aren’t ve?” she asked shakily.  “It’s too hard; as he’s gotten to feeling better, he’s so much harder to vatch.  How can ve continue to keep him safe?  I gave him the last sleeping pill tonight, I don’t haf any more, and it’s not good to keep giving them to him anyway, he vill become dependent on them, he vill be addicted.”

“Well, better addicted than dead, don’t you think, love?” Stu asked, brushing the hair out of her eyes as she sighed in agreement.  “An’ we’re not gonna lose him, we just gotta be more careful, we can’t ever leave him alone.  It’s just a couple more weeks now.  I think John an’ th’ lads are gonna be more careful, Paul looked really shook up by th’ blood, don’t think he really believed th’ woman’s insane before now.  Look, what d’ya think ‘bout asking Helge if she can’t help us out?  Think she would?”

“Oh, Stuart, that’s a vonderful idea!  I’ll call her first thing in the morning!  I don’t think George vould turn her avay, she’s a very pretty girl, you know.”

Stu leered at her playfully.  “Yeah, I’ve noticed,” he said suggestively, smiling inwardly when Astrid giggled.  Her laugh was a bit shaky, but at least she was laughing, he thought with relief.

The very next night, Stu and Astrid found themselves with another house guest as Helge wormed her way into George’s bed to warm and guard his nights; sneaking in with George late at night and sneaking out during the afternoon.  Stu suspected Mutter Kirchherr knew exactly what was going on under her roof, as far as who shared a bed with whom, but the motherly German woman turned a blind eye to it.  Lody appeared highly affronted by the situation, but went on guard duty as commanded at the bottom of the stairs.  Another friend was able to procure more sleeping pills and he hoped that Astrid was no longer worrying about addicting their young friend to his ‘vitamins’.  He’d been serious, better addicted than dead!

As Stu prepared for bed one long week later, he thought with wry amusement that the boy might think he was in love with Antanasia, but he was hot blooded enough that he hadn’t refused the attentions of a pretty and willing girl who offered to share his bed!  Perhaps Astrid’s friend could wean him away from his obsession on the woman, he thought with a little shudder.  He knew Astrid beliefed the woman was a true vampire, but he just couldn’t get into that idea.  But she was bloody dangerous, that he was certain of.   He listened to the silence of the house, glad that George and Helge had finally settled down for the night.  Only two more weeks to go, then George would be back in England, safely out of the woman’s reach.  Stu crawled into bed beside Astrid and put his arms around his lover, finally relaxing into sleep.

He jumped out of bed when Helge’s frantic knocking sounded at their door only an hour later, his heart pounding at the abrupt awakening.  George had somehow slipped away in the dark of the night.

* * * * *

“Oh, God, love, I haven’t seen ya fer nearly a week, I’m so sorry ‘bout that last time, I dunno what Stu thought ‘e was doin’, bustin’ in on us like that, but I swear I’ll make it up to ya, I’ll make it good fer ya tonight,” George insisted.

“Not tonight, I don’t think,” she replied testily, refusing his embrace.

“No?” George asked in surprise and disappointment. 

After getting the vitamin stuck in his throat that evening and having to spit it out, he hadn’t slept well and had woken in the middle of the night from an incredible dream about the bird, and he’d felt drawn to her hotel.  He’d managed to get out of his room without waking Helge, and he’d given Lody a sausage from the kitchen and bolted out the back door whilst the dog was distracted.  Antanasia had been waiting for him in the lobby of her hotel, but now that they’d gotten to her room, she was holding back.  Why, he wondered?

“No, I think not.  They’ve been stuffing you with garlic, the fools.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, Astrid cooked some Italian sausages last night, I’ve gotten ta like ‘em a bit, especially when she makes ‘em in that cream sauce.  We…..we don’ have ta kiss if ya don’ wanna,” he offered shyly, wanting her desperately, but unsure about pushing things.

She rolled her eyes and laughed at him, but he thought her smile was affectionate.  “No, the garlic gets in your blood, and I don’t particularly like it.  It will take days for it to run its course.  Promise me, my young lover, you won’t have any more garlic until you see me next.”

“Yeah, sure, I promise,” George agreed readily to her demand. 

He had a cousin who reacted violently to the smell of onions, maybe Antanasia had the same sort of problem with garlic, maybe it was kinda pervasive, but he didn’t really understand what she meant about it getting in his blood.  But he knew for certain that the bird was in his blood, he wanted her so bad!  That last time, when Stu’d interrupted them, it had been so fantastic with her on top like that, and he’d been wanting a repeat nearly since the moment she’d left the room!  And it didn’t look as if she was blaming him for the interruption, thank God; he’d worried quite a bit about that!

Testing her response, he pulled her into his arms and nuzzled her neck, she didn’t seem to have a problem with that, he thought gratefully.  But the desire that surged through him at the touch of her skin wasn’t going to be satisfied with a mere snuggle.  He picked her up and carried her over to the bed, greatly surprised at his daring (and gratified that she didn’t struggle, because he didn’t want to drop her!).  He was eager to show her a few of the things that Helge had taught him; he wanted to please Antanasia as much as she pleased him.

He thought later that he must not have done it quite right, although the same methods had certainly worked on Helge once she’d shown him what to do.  But Antanasia had been quiescent in his arms, never giving him the reaction he’d been wanting from her.  She didn’t even bite his neck like she had when he’d driven her wild with desire the other times they’d been together; he thought that was the passion he wanted to bring out in her, the way she lost control like that, even though it hurt a bit.  Oh, but it was almost as good for him, even though he hadn’t been able to drive her crazy.  Oh, God, she was incredible, and he hoped she didn’t mind him…..well, forcing himself on her like this.

“Was that what you needed, my young lover?  Did you need that to push the blonde bitches from your thoughts?” she murmured as George was catching his breath.

He froze in embarrassment.  Oh, shit, how’d she know about Helge?  Wait, she’d said bitches, plural.  Did she think he and Astrid…..?  And how dare she call Asser a bitch?  He bristled at the thought, and rolled off his partner in sudden anger.

“Oh, have I hit a nerve, George?  You like the Astrid bitch, don’t you?”

“Don’t be callin’ her that!” he burst out, then flushed uncertainly when she laughed.

“Your little blonde bed-warmer is of no concern to me, but your friendship with the others is a bother.  The woman knows, of course.  The men refuse to believe, but they’re cautious.  I’ll have to deal with them soon, but it’s only a minor annoyance.”

What was she on about?  She did this a lot, he decided; she talked about things that didn’t make any sense, changed the subject, left him wondering if he was stupid or wasn’t able to understand her conversation.  Maybe it was the language barrier, maybe she didn’t understand English quite as well as she spoke it.  That would make sense, wouldn’t it?  She probably got words and phrases mixed up sometimes, and probably meant something entirely different than what she was saying.

“So you think I don’t know what I’m saying, is that it?” she purred, sitting up beside him and scratching her red fingernails over his arm, making him shiver.

“How…..how d’ya figure that?” he asked as his heart did something weird, skipped a beat or something like that.

“Oh, just by the thoughts that race across your features.  You’re very expressive, you know.  But maybe I do know what I’m saying.  Your Astrid is a bitch, she wants to keep you from me.  Oh, you really don’t like me saying that, do you?  Your anger is very attractive, the power behind the flush of rage, rising in you like sap in a young tree, yes, oh, it’s very enticing.”

She easily pushed him down on the bed, and he wondered at her strength.  He tried to sit up, angry yet reluctant to let her see his anger, not wanting to rock the boat of the most incredible ride he’d ever had, but unwilling to sit still for the way she was badmouthing his friends.  The bird pushed him flat again and got on top of him, coaxing a reaction from him that didn’t require much coaxing, her touch making him shiver in excitement despite his ire.  His desire and fever for her body was such that George couldn’t even think; he just simply responded to what she was doing to him.

“You’re mine, all mine, body and soul, don’t forget that,” she breathed, her lips against his neck, the words reverberating in his mind.

“Yeah, yeah, oh, God, don’t stop…..”

She bit him this time, but gently, not breaking his skin, not like when he’d driven her wild before, he thought breathlessly, once he was able to think after moaning his way to a near heart stopping climax.  Oh, God, she was so soft and sweet and hot; he felt delirious with pleasure, his heart pounding wildly in the aftermath of passion, his anger forgotten.

“Oh, George, your lust and fever is so delicious, you don’t know how much I want you right now,” she purred, her lips still nuzzling his neck.

“I thought ya just had me,” he panted with the final shivers of his reaction.  Oh, God, that had been fantastic!

“Yes, of course, but it’s nothing like the dénouement.  To hold you in my arms, to feel your heart beating against mine, slowing from its frantic race, your taste filling my mouth and your essence filling my mind, oh, it’s so hard to hold back, you know.  Only a little longer, perhaps just a few days from now.  But you must stay away from the garlic, frumos iubit.”

Oh, God, even the way she just talked about sex made him want to take her again!  He wasn’t always sure exactly what she meant, and she sometimes used words he didn’t understand, either.  She’d mentioned that one word before, that “dénouement”, it sounded like some incredible sex, especially if she wanted it so bad.  He’d have to make sure she got what she wanted.  Oh, God, she was incredible!

“What’s that ya said?”

“What, frumos iubit?  It means beautiful lover in my native tongue.”

“Beautiful?” he asked, distracted, surprised to be called a word usually reserved for a bird.  She was beautiful, not him!

“Oh, yes, beautiful, George, with your youth and passion, your strong heart and equally strong emotions, your lovely desire, you draw me to you like a moth to a flame, I want to quench my thirst for you quickly, but I want to savour it as well.  It’s so difficult to wait.”

She left the bed abruptly and looked out the window with a scowl.  “You must leave, George, it’s nearly daybreak.”

“What?  I thought…..”

“It doesn’t matter,” she interrupted him.  “Get dressed, you must leave now.”

George couldn’t understand why she didn’t want him to stay, and he was hurt by her abrupt dismissal.  He’d kinda liked the idear of waking beside her, maybe trying out this “dénouement” or whatever it was, but she wasn’t having any of that.  She practically pushed him out of her suite, saying it would be light in moments and she needed to be alone.  He wondered if she had another lover coming over, realized he’d never seen her during the day, paused to consider maybe she had another life she lived during the daylight hours.  He wondered jealously who the other fellow might be, and he sat in the lobby for a couple of hours after getting a box of matches from the lift operator, smoking cigarette after cigarette, watching who came and went, wondering who his competition might be.

Hunger and thirst and the sharp glares from a couple of burly security guards finally drove George from his chair.  He walked the streets for a while, parting with a few deutchmark to buy tea and a roll for brekkie, wishing forlornly that he was closer to the St. Pauli district; he could have had three times as much food for half the money at Chung-ou’s or Harald’s coffee house!  He made his way back to Astrid’s house about nine in the morning, tired and wanting only to sleep.  He thought his friends wouldn’t have even noticed he was gone, but Helge was another matter, he’d just walked out on her in the middle of the night with no explanation.  He hoped she hadn’t been too upset by his departure.  She was a nice enough girl, and he enjoyed bedding her, but she was no Antanasia.  That bird was simply incredible! 

The sight of a police van parked outside the house ended his pleasant review of the night’s events.  Shocked, he hurried inside, what could have happened?  He saw Mutter Kirchherr, Astrid, Helge and Stuart turn towards him as he walked into the house, then the two blonde girls leaped to their feet and rushed over to him.  He was surprised and gratified and a bit embarrassed to find his arms full of thinly clad female bodies as he was hugged tightly. 

“Oh, mein Gott!  Shame on you for frightening us like that, George!  Don’t do that again, but thank God you’re all right.”

He nearly rocked under the blows as Stu pounded him on the back, and then Astrid was shaking him whilst Helge continued to hug him in delight, what was going on?  He started to feel guilty, had he been the cause of all this?

“What are th’ police doin’ ‘ere, what’s goin’ on?” he asked as Frau Kirchherr bustled past him to enter the kitchen, her busy chatter leaving him wondering what she was saying.  “Lody, sitz, platz!” he commanded as another body joined the confusion, and the big dog obediently sat down at his feet, panting and shivering with excitement.  Somewhere in the back of his mind, George was amused at how many expressions the dog had, she appeared almost shamefaced about letting him get away last night….or perhaps he was just projecting his own guilty feelings onto the dog, he wondered?

“You disappeared in the middle of the night, vhat could ve think, ve thought you…..vere in trouble, George!  Mama’s cooking breakfast for you, she vas vorried, too, you naughty boy.” 

Astrid turned back to the police officer and spoke to him in German, sounding nearly apologetic, then George found himself being shaken again whilst Lody, still obediently seated nearly on top of his feet, began barking in excitement over all the uproar.

“Promise me you von’t disappear like that again, please, mein liebling.”

George sighed and promised; all his friends were mother hens lately.  On top of that, he had several words to figure out now, “liebling” and “dénouement”, and “mein kleinkind”, which Astrid’s mum always called him.  Astrid had called him that first one before, and he’d always wondered what it meant, but had never bothered to find out.  He suddenly remembered some girls in the audience shouting something like that, too, ‘das liebschen kind’.  He wondered if Astrid had an English dictionary, but he was too tired to look for it right now.  He smothered a yawn and stumbled off to bed as soon as Mother Kirchherr fed him and his friends quit questioning him.

Later in the evening, having been singularly unsuccessful in his attempt to learn the meaning of the words, he asked Astrid about them on the drive to the Top Ten.  She’d seemed in a really good mood today after he’d woken, and although he felt a little funny asking her a sex related question, his desire to fulfill Antanasia’s desires was stronger than his embarrassment.

* * * * *

Astrid smiled merrily, wondering at young George’s haltingly asked question; she’d been in a particularly happy frame of mind today since the scoundrel had been found.  She wished he would answer her questions about where he’d been, but knew that she couldn’t push him too hard.  She wondered if he had another girl on the side?  Well, there hadn’t been any marks on his neck, she thought, so although she’d been frightened initially, she’d gotten over her fear and was just thankful her little friend hadn’t been with the vampyr.

“Well, Mama calls you her kleinkind, her… well, her little boy, I’m afraid, but she loves you and the other boys very much, you know.  And liebling means several things.  It can be darling, or sweetheart, or dear.  I use it affectionately, you are like a little brother, dear George.”  She tried not to notice that he was blushing furiously; oh, he was going to incandesce when he heard the next one!  “Das liebschen kind means ‘the lovely child’.”  Astrid tried to hold back her laughter when George’s colour became fiery; she’d been right!  She’d heard the girls shouting that in the club and known immediately about whom they were talking…..about George, of course!  “As far as ‘dénouement’, that’s a little different, it’s a French vord.  It means the final resolution to a story, like the epilogue.  A……wrap up of the narrative, I suppose.”

“Huh?  It’s not…..it’s not about…..uhhhh…..” George stammered.

“What, George, spit it out,” Astrid laughed.

“Well, I thought it had somethin’ ta do with sex.  I mean, Antanasia said she couldn’t wait fer this ‘dénouement’ thing, an’ I thought I’d…..well, try ta figure out what it was an’ surprise ‘er,” he replied with obvious embarrassment.

Astrid thought the blood flowing in her veins turned to ice water the moment the creature’s name was mentioned.  Oh, God, he had been with her, but for some reason, the vampyr had held back.  Astrid thought furiously; oh, God, the dénouement, the end result of a sequence of events.  That could only mean she was closing in for the kill.

“Astrid!  Astrid!”

“What?” she gasped.

“Ya just drove past th’ Top Ten, gurl!  Lemme out ‘ere, I’ll walk back,” George said.  “Yer off on cloud nine tonight or somethin’!”

Taking a deep breath and trying to control her trembling, Astrid refused his suggestion and drove back and parked, staying in the club and placing several phone calls whilst he was on stage.  She didn’t let him out of her sight until the night was over and they were once again on their way home.  Thankfully, the friend she’d called from the bar had been by and dropped off another bottle of pills, and she gave George two sleeping pills that night, making sure he swallowed them, telling him that they were more vitamins the doctor had prescribed.  She sat up until she was certain he was fast asleep, and then checked to make sure all the crosses were in place at the windows and doors to the house.

She lay awake beside Stuart for the remainder of the night, finally dropping into an uneasy slumber as the hazy dawn of a new day lit the sky.

* * * * *

It was their last week in Hamburg, they’d be heading home to jolly ol’ England soon, only six more nights to go, John thought absently as he enjoyed the attentions of the redheaded girl who’d been in to see the band that night.  He’d miss this part of the trip, that was for certain.  The girl didn’t speak English, but who needed to talk?  He abandoned himself to her ministrations.

John woke with a strangled gasp, feeling as if he couldn’t breathe.  He was surprised to find that he was aching for sex, dying for it, even though he’d had it with the redhead before he’d fallen asleep.  Oh, yeah, he thought as a body settled over him, oh, this was what he needed, the girl must have stayed around for more, oh yeah……

The bird kissed him on the neck and his eyes flew open at a sudden sharp pain where her lips touched him.  He reacted without thought, using all his strength to slam her into the wall as hard as he could.  It had to be that crazy bitch, how the bloody hell had she gotten in here?  Panting in reaction, he scrambled out of his bed and grabbed his robe, struggling into it, feeling somewhat less vulnerable when he had something to cover his nakedness.  He switched on the light with shaking fingers.

“What the ‘ell are you doing ‘ere?” he snarled, wiping his hand across his neck, checking his fingers and grateful to realize there was only a pinprick of blood.  He’d never forgotten the sight of Georgie sitting on his bunk with a thin trail of blood running down his neck, dripping onto his shoulder unnoticed, it had made him sick to his stomach.  Bloody insane bitch, what was this disgusting fetish she had for blood?  Christ, he couldn’t believe how sick she was, she needed to be in a mental hospital!

“Oh, I came to talk to you, John,” she replied easily, crawling from his bed and looking none the worse for having been knocked into the wall.  “But when I saw you laying there asleep, I thought I’d do a little more than talk.  Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to take much, just a little taste, just enough to tide me over until I can have George.  You surprised me, though, not many break my hold, you know,” she remarked conversationally.

The chill he experienced almost made him shiver.  “Yer not me type.  An’ yer not gonna ‘ave ‘im,” he tried to say casually, using all his strength to keep his voice from quavering.  The bitch scared him silly, she was mad, utterly mad.

“Oh, yes, I will have him,” she said as she sat on the edge of his bunk, patting the bed at her side as if inviting him to sit beside her.  “And I can be whatever you want me to be, John.  Dark angel, blonde Valkyrie, even…..perhaps…..a redheaded girl in the audience.”

The chill was stronger, and this time, John couldn’t stop his shiver.  The bitch was just having him on, he was sure, she must have been in the club earlier and seen him chatting up the redhead, that’s all.  That’s all, he told himself firmly.  He cautiously sat on the bunk opposite her, wondering where Pete and Paul were, he could use some moral support against this one.  He felt completely alone, and the bird was bloody dangerous.  Beautiful and damned desirable, but bloody dangerous.

“Don’t be frightened,” she said with a smile.

John laughed and was pleased it wasn’t a shaky laugh.  “I’m not scared, I jus’ want ya outta ‘ere so I can go back ta sleep.”

“No you don’t, you wonder what it’s like, you’d like to have me, to see what the fuss is all about.”

“Yer not me type, I like blondes,” he sneered, uneasy at the way she seemed to nearly read his thoughts.

“I told you, I can be whatever you want me to be.  Man, woman, child, animal, mother, father, your best friend, whatever you want.”

What a sick bird!  “I want ya ta be gone,” he spat.

She laughed cheerily.  “All right, but we’ll talk first.  I want George, it’s as simple as that.  You and your friends have been keeping him from me for nearly a week now.  Give him to me, and I’ll leave the rest of you alone.  It’s very easy.”

“Simple as that, eh?”

“Yes.”

“What’s th’ attraction?  Why ‘im?  Why not someone else?”

“Why not ….. you?” she asked with a flirtatious smile.

“Nah, not interested,” John bluffed.  “Why George?”

“Oh, his youth, his innocence, his lust.  It’s very attractive.”

“Bullshit,” John said cynically.  “You can get youth an’ innocence or lust from any young kid on th’ street.  Why George?”

“I suppose that part of it is that I was his first, it makes the end result that much sweeter.  Musicians are so easy, you know.  There’s a never ending supply of them, the bands come and go so quickly here in Hamburg.”

John narrowed his eyes as the bird smiled voluptuously.  He didn’t say anything, but waited for her to continue.

“I suppose a part of it is also because of your struggle to save him from me, it was a fun game of cat and mouse in the beginning.  And you must remember, the child thinks he’s in love with me.  It’s simply delicious, you know.” 

John watched as she closed her eyes in some kind of rapture, her voice low and breathy with excitement as she continued.  He ignored the way his body reacted to her voice and her excitement, listened alertly and tried to disregard the pull of her attraction.

“Taking him is going to be so sweet, so tender, the love changing to horror, the struggle and the final gasp of life as he realizes he can’t escape, the dulling of the light in his eyes as he dies, that final beat of his heart followed by silence.  It’s simply lovely.  Oh, yes, it’s going to be so sweet.” 

She opened her eyes and looked at him directly, a smile lingering on her red lips. 

“I won’t be denied, John.  But you and your friends have trying to keep him out of my grasp.  It was amusing at first, the way you all want to thwart me, but it’s become annoying and I want it to end.  I could kill you all, but it’s so much simpler to come to a simple business agreement, don’t you think?  Give me George and I’ll leave the rest of you alone.”

This was one completely sick bitch, the way she talked made him feel ….. unclean.  John sat back and pretended to consider her suggestion.  He just wanted the bitch out of here, and if agreeing with her crazy plan would make her leave, then maybe he should agree to it.  He didn’t feel very right about it, but it wasn’t like he was making a promise to a sane person or anything!  He opened his mouth to accept her offer.  He was surprised when she crossed the little room in three steps and took his face in her hands, bending close to him, easily holding him still when he tried to pull away from her.  Jesus Christ, she was strong!

“Cross me, and you’ll regret it,” she breathed, lowering her head and nuzzling his neck as he shivered. 

He felt her lips press harder against him, the touch like ice, her teeth breaking through his skin, and she sucked hard for an instant, turning him inside out with some weird kind of desire.  The fire it caused in his loins was instantaneous; shit, what the hell was she?  He got his hands between them and pushed with all his might, succeeding only in rocking her back a step.

“Don’t do that again, bitch,” he snarled, shoving again, shuddering as he realized the only reason she moved back was because she stepped back under her own power.

The door opened and Pete and Paul stumbled into the room, stopping abruptly in surprise.  Pete fumbled with his collar and pulled something from around his neck, snapping the chain with the force and speed of his movements.  He held up a cross and the woman turned away with a scowl.

“Don’t forget, John.  And don’t cross me, I’ll make you pay,” she whispered.

She glided past the two new arrivals, careful to avoid touching them, and walked out the door.   John took a deep breath, fumbled for a cigarette and lit it with shaking hands.

“Christ, I’m glad you two came in when ya did, that’s one sick bitch, she’s bloody insane, she talked straight out ‘bout killin’ Georgie!”  He paused to take a deep drag.  “So, Pete, lad, didn’t know ya got religion,” he cracked, trying not to let his mates know how frightened he’d been.

Paul and Pete moved into the room, shutting the door behind them, and Pete shuffled his feet a bit before replying.

“Aw, me grandda used ta tell me ghost stories an’ shit like that, scared me ta death when I was a kid.  I guess I gotta figure if th’ loony thinks she’s a vampire, it doesn’t hurt ta have something around that she thinks is dangerous to ‘er, ya know?”

“Yeah,” John replied.  He thought he might be going shopping in the morning; like Pete said, it wouldn’t hurt anyway.  He touched his neck, felt the tender bruise there, and shivered again. “You guys wanna go over an’ see Astrid an’ Stu?  I know it’s late, but maybe we should tell ‘em what happened.”

It wasn’t a very long walk, but they stayed close together on the journey.

Go Read Part Three!