The Mammoth Book Of Vampire Stories Written By Women

"Yes." The GP; tests; the specialist; more tests; that loathsome hospital Penny breathed deeply and carefully to knock the tremor out of her voice. "It's incurable, and it's progressive. Over the last two years we've tried everything, but it didn't And now now, he might have a couple of months, but the doctors say that" Something caught in her throat; she turned her head aside from the receiver and tried to clear it.

"That there's no hope," the woman gently finished the sentence for her." I understand. I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," Penny said tightly.

"So, then. I think I can help you, if you want me to. But I'd prefer to talk about it face to face."

Penny's cynicism had begun to come back in a reaction to the last few moments, and she demanded, "Why? That's the sort of thing the evangelists do: worm an invitation, then start on their conversion technique. Only last week I answered the doorbell and there were some bloody"

"Please. I promise you, I am not an evangelist in any shape or form. Far from it. But what I need to explain really does need a personal meeting."

Penny looked down the length of the hall. The thin February daylight made everything look bleak and depressing; the stairs were deeply shadowed, and David was lying up there in their bedroom, drugged to the eyeballs with painkillers, hardly knowing her, hardly knowing anything.

"All right," she said on an outward rush of breath. "When, and where?"

"It's best if I come to your house, I think. Would this evening be convenient?"

"Yes." Face the thing quickly. If it's yet another disappointment, better to have it over with . Feeling that the situation wasn't quite real, Penny gave her address and agreed on 7:00 p.m.

"I don't know your name," she added.

"Oh, of course. It's Smith. Carmine Smith."

Penny didn't believe that, and she didn't believe that the woman could be of any use at all. But what did it matter? There was nothing left to lose.

Carmine Smith was probably in her early forties, elegant in classically understated dark clothes and expensive black silk coat. Her hair, too, was dark, cut in a young, gamine style that suited her perfectly. Her eyes were subtly made up, but she wore no lipstick.

"Thank you," she said, taking the coffee (black, no sugar) that Penny handed to her. She looked around the room, assessing it, her expression inscrutable. Then she asked, "Is your husband at home?"

Penny nodded. "They said there was no point his staying in hospital. They need the beds, and there's nothing"

"Of course. Could I see him?"

Penny became defensive. "He's probably asleep. He sleeps a lot, and even when he's awake he's vague. He couldn't tell you much."

"All the same, if I could just look in?" Carmine's eyes were very intense.

Penny hesitated, then shrugged.

They climbed the stairs. Carmine walked noiselessly, which Penny found faintly unsettling. She fancied that if she were to turn her head she would find nobody at all behind her, and that this whole encounter was a delusion.

David, as she had predicted, was asleep. Carmine moved to the bed and stood gazing down at him by the soft light of the bedside lamp, while Penny, who no longer liked to look at her husband too often, hovered by the window.

At length Carmine said quietly, "He's very handsome."

"Yes." Or was, before he couldn't eat properly any more and started to waste away .

"How old is he?"

"Forty-six." Penny moved restlessly. "Look, I don't want to wake him. You've seen him now; if we're going to talk, I'd prefer to do it downstairs."

"Of course." Carmine led the way out with a confidence that she hadn't exhibited before, as if in the space of a few seconds she had observed, considered and come to a decision. Back in the sitting-room she sat in what had always been David's favourite chair, sipped her coffee, then set the cup down and looked directly at Penny.

"I can bring him back to you," she said.

A crawling, electrical sensation went through Penny's entire body and she stared, disbelieving. "How?"

Carmine studied her own hands where they lay in her lap. "This is the hard part, Mrs Blythe. The part you're going to find difficult to accept."

"You mentioned side effects"

"Yes, yes; but I'm not talking about those, not yet." She inhaled deeply. "Perhaps it's best if I put it bluntly, rather than beating about the bush. I can restore your husband to you, whole and healthy, stronger than he has ever been before. Because I can make him immortal."

There was a brief, lacerating silence: then Penny stood up.

"Get out of my house," she said. "Now."

"Mrs Blythe"

" Now ," Penny repeated ferociously. "People like you you're sick . I suppose you find it funny , do you, playing your jokes, having your laughs at someone else's expense? Some kind of turn-on, is it?" She strode to the door, wrenched it open. "Get out !"

Carmine was also on her feet now, but she didn't leave. "Mrs Blythe, I'm serious!" She sounded almost angry, and Penny turned, thumping a clenched fist against the edge of the door.