Guest Post: Nereid Moon
Guest Post: Nereid Moon
By Amelia Cotter
I met Jake on a public bus, a chance encounter. It was an ordinary evening, early autumn, and still warm outside. It had rained earlier in the day, and the air smelled of nostalgia and the coming winter. The bus was mostly empty, save for a few scruffy-looking gentlemen gathered in the front rows and Jake sitting at the back.
He was in the second to last row, staring out the window into the darkness of the night. His dark brown eyes reflected back at him from the window, as well as the gleam of his dark hair slicked back clean to the collar of his gray raincoat.
As I was passing the rows of rough-looking men, all glaring up at me with that dead-eyed stare that goes right through a woman, I felt a chill shoot up my back. The thought leapt suddenly into my mind that they could be vampires.
My heart started racing, and with it, my blood.
I glanced back at them. Sure enough, they were baring long fangs at me. I turned toward Jake, just a stranger to me then. His eyes had become great bulging disks, emitting what was almost a golden glow, and he was baring long fangs at them.
He lifted his gaze to me briefly, and in it, I found a hint of sympathy. I made a split-second decision based on what I knew about vampires from movies, television, and what my parents had taught me. “I’m with him,” I told the men, pointing at Jake.
The vampires turned and looked him up and down. One of them, big, bald, and sweaty, let out a low snarl.
Jake’s great golden disks darted from me to them and back to me again. I felt a sharp electric current coursing through my body. He coughed. “Yes. She’s with me,” he said, looking straight at me. To my surprise, he spoke through the fangs with an easy lilt.
“Bullshit,” spat the big, bald, sweaty one.
What Jake did next was unexpected. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a wallet. He opened it, and the silver flash of a badge startled us all. He was a cop.
“She’s with me,” he repeated.
The men looked shocked, pissed, and disappointed all at once. Their fangs receded.
The bus driver took that as his cue to depart, careful to look straight ahead and say nothing, only glancing briefly into the rearview mirror at us.
I continued toward the back of the bus and took my place quietly next to Jake, folding my skirt under my legs as I sat down.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Sorry about that,” he said, shaking his head.
I kept my gaze on my lap but studied him out of the corner of my eye. He had a long nose and high cheekbones, and dark, full eyebrows that highlighted the intensity of his eyes, and a very square jaw. He smelled wonderful. In spite of myself, I felt a tug of attraction to him.
He looked at me with concern. “You have to retract what you said,” he said quietly.
“Retract?” I asked, confused. “Is just saying that really a…binding thing?’
“If it’s sincere, yes,” he answered, nodding. “Fear makes people very honest.”
“Well, I retract,” I whispered.
He smiled. His regular teeth were white and straight, normal. “I can tell that you didn’t mean that,” he said.
He hesitated. “I really don’t think you want me calling on you to feed off of you. We have safe places to go for that, but that’s what being with me—being mine—means.”
“Safe places?” I asked.
His eyes flinched. “I prefer not to feed directly from people and never from the unwilling.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Jake.”
“Jake. That’s a very intimidating vampire name,” I joked. He didn’t react. “I’m Dinah.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Dinah. That’s a pretty name.”
“Thanks,” was the last thing I said before we rode in silence for a while, the bus stopping to let on a few ordinary-looking passengers. The crew of angry vampires finally got off together, and as they did, Jake watched them and busily wrote out a long message on his phone. One of them gave him the finger before the bus drove away, and he gave the finger back. We rode on.
A few minutes later, I took a deep breath and said, “I retract,” as officially and forcefully as I could.
His eyes darted again as if searching, and he shook his head. “I appreciate the effort, Dinah.” He reached up and pressed the button for the bus to stop.
“Thanks again for your help,” I told him. I got up to let him out of the seat.
“My car broke down,” he announced flatly as he stood up. “I had to take the bus. It was your lucky day. And mine.” He smiled earnestly. “I wish you more good luck.”
He was slightly taller than me with a solid, athletic build and shoulders that hunched forward a little. The belt buckles of his gray raincoat clicked against the seatbacks as he walked away.
“Be safe,” he said.
I nodded, sitting down again. “You, too,” I replied.
I watched him thank the driver as he got off the bus and disappeared into the night.
I had been quietly grading papers all evening for my Astronomy I students, drinking coffee in my pajamas with the TV on. I loved drinking coffee on my grading nights and had quite the caffeine buzz going. I nearly launched myself into space when I heard the doorbell ring. People don’t just come around knocking on other peoples’ doors anymore.
As I approached the door, I could see that it was Jake through the window. Shocked to find him there, I opened the door about halfway and peeked out. A cool breeze blew through the doorway as if drawing him in.
He was dressed in a sharp, dark gray suit, his hair slicked back in the same style as when we had met. He was leaning on the frame with both hands, looking pale and worn.
“Dinah, remember me? Jake?” he asked, flinching, uncomfortable.
“Jake, yes, hi,” I said, nervous. “Are you okay? How did you know where I live?”
“It’s hard to explain,” he said, scratching his head. “I have my ways. I mean, I can sense you.” He was distracted, agitated.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Dinah, listen. You seem like a nice person. I don’t like doing this, showing up like this, but I have to ask you…you know.”
I didn’t respond, only widened my eyes a little. He continued. “I remember telling you that there are safe places for us, but…it’s hard to explain. I feel you. Sense you. Very strongly.”
Confusion and fear silenced my curiosity and desire to ask more questions. Jake must have sensed that and kept talking.
“I just wanted to come by and see you again and see if you would be willing, maybe, to help me out. I know it’s an incredible thing to ask. You never actually retracted what you said that night. So I just wanted to see. Ask permission. That’s all.”
I still did not know how to respond. He continued. “The whole ordeal, it’s a process, like a medical procedure—the bite. I have it down pat. And you don’t have to say yes. I can’t come in unless you invite me.”
He added quickly, and with a half-hearted laugh, “Just kidding.”
With those words, the hair prickled on the back of my neck. I felt the same electric current coursing through me as I did that night with those men on the bus. Jake kept his mouth carefully closed, but his eyes flickered just enough to flash that golden hue I had seen before.
“So you want to come in so you can bite me?” I asked for reassurance, my voice quivering.
He nodded and flinched.
I said the first thing that came to mind. “Well, I just drank, like, a bucket of coffee. I’m in the middle of grading papers.”
He looked embarrassed and forced a laugh. “Of course. You’re a teacher. Of course.” He lifted his hand to his face and started chewing on his thumbnail. I looked for fangs, but they were not out…yet. “What kind of teacher?”
“Science, astronomy this semester. I’m not an astronomer, though.”
“Yeah, but still,” he said, almost to himself, impressed. Usually, people were. “Wow.”
He was as handsome as I had remembered. His face was slightly asymmetrical; maybe his nose had been broken at some point. He looked at me with those brown eyes, somehow sad and completely transfixing, and I felt the urge to let him inside.
“Would you like to come in?” I asked.
He looked surprised. “Yes. I promise—no bullshit.”
I remembered then that he was a cop and glanced down at the hilt of a gun peeking out from beneath his suit jacket. I nodded carefully and opened the door wide, stepping aside to let him in.
He entered, removing the jacket and taking a long look at the family pictures lining the hallway as I led him to the kitchen.
What was I about to do?
Jake loosened his tie, removed it, and set it on the kitchen table. He unbuttoned his shirt a few buttons, revealing a tight-fitting, light gray t-shirt underneath, then unbuttoned and rolled up his shirt cuffs.
I became aware of my own outfit: a pink, loose-fitting old blouse I liked to wear around the house and leggings. My hair was tied back tightly in a ponytail at the nape of my neck. I would normally have wanted to die if a handsome man in a beautiful suit saw me this way, but now it seemed practical for the occasion.
He helped himself to the roll of paper towels on the counter, tearing off four or five sheets and placing them in front of him next to the roll. He produced a small packet of gauze and a bandage from his pocket, setting them down next to the paper towels. He then opened the refrigerator, had a quick look around, and took out a carton of orange juice.
“Dinah, where are your drinking glasses?” he asked, opening up cabinets.
“Second cabinet over from the sink, on the left,” I answered, pointing.
“Thank you,” he replied, flinching with what seemed to be that nervous tic of his. He pulled out a small glass and filled it with juice. He set the glass down next to the gauze and bandage and put the carton back in the fridge. He surveyed his work.
“Do you get nauseous easily?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied weakly, gulping. In fact, I was already feeling nauseous just looking at that spread.
“I’m good at this. I’ve done this many times. I don’t want you to worry. I want you to relax.”
“All that coffee,” I joked, folding my arms and touching one hand to my throat.
He eyed me up. “Hey, it’s okay. Sit down, alright?”
He pulled out one of my kitchen chairs and placed his hand reassuringly on my shoulder as I sat down. “Just relax,” he said.
“Actually, can you just walk me through this real quick?” I asked, standing up again and wriggling away from his grip.
His voice became soothing and almost hypnotic. “Sure. It all happens very fast. I’ll bite you and drink from you for maybe 15 to 20 seconds. Then, I will bandage you and stay with you until you feel better. There won’t be a mess either, I promise. And, if at any point, you really aren’t feeling well, just say so.”
I nodded. He rolled up his sleeves a little more and circled me, stopping behind me. He placed his hands on my arms to signal that I should face forward.
As he stood behind me, my skin prickled. I felt a tingling sensation run from those hands into me.
He pulled my blouse to one side and revealed my neck and shoulder. He pressed his entire body into me, then reached down and gripped my hands gently, pulling my arms snugly around me, forcing my body back against his.
I could feel his breath on the curve of my neck and the tip of his nose on my skin.
I licked my lips and tried to focus on relaxing.
I wanted him to kiss me, bite me.
Just do it, I thought.
It happened very quickly, as promised. I expected to hear a click of fangs protracting, but his mouth simply hovered over me for a moment, his breath heating up the spot he was going to bite. “Breathe in,” he said.
I did. And then I felt it—the razor-sharp tips of his fangs grazing my skin. He grasped me tightly and then plunged them in.
Exhaling, I made a sound I had never made before. I felt my blood rush into his mouth.
A brief sensation of pleasure gave way almost immediately to the primordial desire to escape danger. I felt dizzy, uncomfortable, sick, with brief intermittent moments of relief as he would stop to breathe, panting heavily, and run his tongue over my steadily flowing blood. In those moments, the euphoria would return long enough to mask the horror.
“Jake,” I stammered out. If he hadn’t been holding me so tightly, I would have fallen limp from his arms.
Just one more second passed. Beads of sweat ran down my face, and I felt flush, seeing gray before my eyes even when holding them shut. He retracted his fangs as quickly as he had bared them, and it was over.
He released me gently backward, and I slid to the floor. His face and chin were smeared with blood. I shut my eyes and let my forehead come to rest on a cabinet. The coolness of the wood brought me some relief.
Jake quickly went to the counter and ran the loose paper towels under water. He brought them over and bent down in front of me. I gasped as he pressed the cold towels to my neck.
“It’s okay. Here, hold them right there. The blood should be coagulating already. We have an agent in our saliva that helps with that. But just in case.”
He returned to the counter to retrieve the gauze and bandage. The wound throbbed as I held the towels over it. The towels quickly warmed from my body heat.
He bent down in front of me again, taking the towels. He examined the wound. “Alright, looking good.”
He gingerly placed the wad of gauze over my wound and then fixed the bandage over it. All done, all better.
“I hope you have some nice sweaters you can wear to work till that heals,” he joked and helped me to my feet. My knees wobbled. He sat me down in the chair again and handed me the orange juice. “Here, this’ll help with that wooziness.”
I took a sip of the juice, my throat aching as I swallowed.
“You did great. Thank you. I feel like a new person now.” He stroked my hair. Then he went to the sink, ran some more paper towels under water, and wiped his face with them. When he was done, his mouth and chin were stained as pink as my shirt.
He did look brand new. His skin was richly textured, and even his hair looked thicker and fuller. He seemed to hold his head higher and looked full, literally, of life.
“How are you holdin’ up there?” he asked.
“That was insane,” I responded honestly. “I think I’m fine, though.” I sipped at the juice. I had so many questions. And so many papers to grade.
His brown eyes sparkled. “Look, I don’t want to keep you. I know you’re busy. But I do want to call on you again. Not only for this purpose, of course.”
“What purpose then?” I asked playfully, feeling the slightest tinge of fear again mixed with elation.
“Well, I owe you one. Maybe I could take you out to dinner—watch you eat.”
“Okay,” I said without hesitation, and we both laughed.
We exchanged phone numbers, like regular people do, and I showed him to the door. Leaves rustled on the trees as if applauding us. He held my hands and kissed my cheek, then thanked me and apologized again.
“I will call on you again very soon, Dinah,” Jake promised warmly, squeezing my hands gently before letting go. And soon enough, he would. And it would be incredible.
Breathlessly, I watched him step off the porch and disappear into the night.
Amelia (Cotter) Pollock, She/Her
A note from the author:
Consensual, but not safe or sane…
I recently attended an opening of the Field Museum’s new exhibit, “Bloodsuckers: Legends to Leeches.” The sleek and stylish exhibition covers the natural history of blood-feeding creatures, bloodletting practices from medieval to modern medicine, and the myth and mystery of all things vampire lore, from Dracula to the chupacabra.
Not long ago, I observed a heated online debate about the predatory sexual nature of vampires as boring, overdone, and, above all, unfeminist. Weirdly, shows like What We Do in the Shadows seemed to aggravate the discussion over the role of vampires in modern storytelling and pop culture while also reinvigorating them as evergreen, fresh, and even fun. More recently, the comedown from pandemic cultural dysphoria seemed to bring naysayers to their senses, or maybe everyone just got really horny again and decided to let it go. Either way, the debate faded into obscurity, and vampires are, full steam ahead, back in business, baby.
This has been great news for me, as the vampire trope never gets old and never loses its luster in my world, and I have no trouble admitting that, for me, the allure of danger is hot. In fall 2023, my short vampire story “The Doorway Between” founds its way between the pages of the Dark Village anthology. Fans cheered on protagonist Zina and fell in love with her counterpart, “daddy” vampire Fil. Now, I’m sharing this blood-kink and smut-adjacent character study called “Nereid Moon,” where you’ll meet sweet Dinah and affable vampire Jake—your new weird crush. Cheers!
Bio: Amelia Cotter is an author, poet, researcher, and storyteller with a special interest in the supernatural, history, and folklore. Her books include Where the Party Never Ended: Ghosts of the Old Baraboo Inn, This House: The True Story of a Girl and a Ghost, Maryland Ghosts: Paranormal Encounters in the Free State, the children’s book Breakfast with Bigfoot, and the poetry collection apparitions. Amelia has appeared on various radio and television programs, including Travel Channel’s Hometown Horror, and in the documentaries Scary Stories and Tinker’s Shadow: The Hidden History of Tinker Swiss Cottage. She also appeared as a regular cast member on Really Channel’s The R.I.P. Files. Amelia lives and writes in Chicago but is originally from Maryland, where she earned a degree in German and history from Hood College. She is a member of The Society of Midland Authors. Visit her official website at www.ameliacotter.com or write to her any time at ameliamcotter@gmail.com.