The Bleeder and Other Stories (Vampire for Hire, Bonus)

The Bleeder and Other Stories (Vampire for Hire, Bonus)





In "The Bleeder," Leo Dershowitz is an unsuccessful artist with minimal talent. But all that changes one day when he finds the macabre source of his artistic muse â€" and now nothing will stop Leo from creating his masterpieces. In "Deal With the Devil," a private investigator gets the wrong end of a deal gone bad. Or does he? In "The Back of Beyond," a lonely bar at the far edge of the world gives the owner much more than he bargained for. Plus a bonus scene from the novel, Vampire Moon, sequel to Moon Dance.


**Reading Sample**

Leo Dershowitz stood in front of his painting and frowned. It wasn't quite right. He had a firm image in his head of what he wanted and this wasn't it. The color was wrong. And the shading was off. Yeah, that was it. The shading.

The problem was, the clear image in his head was fading, becoming hazy around its edges, amorphous.

Which meant only one thing.

He must be scabbing over again. He hated when that happened.

Leo looked down at his right arm, which hung over a white plastic bucket, inside of which was splattered with blood. His blood. Sure enough, the gash in his forearm was threatening to close. The steady flow of blood was nearly being cut off by a thick, congealing scab.

Using a very clean surgical knife, Leo deftly flicked away the scab, which broke off and fell with a splash into the bucket, itself partly filled with a finger or two of his own hemoglobin. Now, once again, sweet blood pumped freely from the gash just below his elbow, flowing rapidly over the many horizontal scars that lined the inside of his arm. Leo always thought the scars looked like piano keys.

Even though he had performed many such blood-letting rituals before, the site of so much blood at once gripped him briefly with nausea and an old fear. The fear of dying.

What if I bleed too much this time? What if I pass out and never awaken?

Leo knew the answer: If he passed out while bleeding, there was a very good chance he would never awaken. That he would bleed to death.

Then don't pass out.

Good idea.

But Leo had learned long ago to ignore such inhibiting fears. He had to ignore them. Because the moment he began to bleed, the moment the life-force flowed from his wounds, a magnificent vision would appear. A vision that hovered tantalizingly in his mind's eye. Clear as day. A vision that only lasted for as long as Leo would bleed.

And now, as the blood dripped steadily from his dangling fingertips, the vision, which had been losing it sharpness with the congealing of his blood, came starkly back into focus.

Leo had a painting to do.

He touched the tip of his paintbrush to his palette, rolled it gently, applying the perfect measure of light desert auburn mixed with pure white, and turned to the half-finished painting before him. And for the next hour or so he transferred the burning image of his mind to the canvas, twice more knocking away the damnable coagulating scabs.

And when the painting was done, when the bucket was splattered with his blood, Leo nearly wept at the painting's beauty....

* * *

Three months ago, Leo woke up from a dead sleep and knew he was going to die.

It was in the middle of the night and his heart was racing madly. In his dreams he saw a fragmented image, the sort of image that only occurred to him when bleeding. A vision. Leo quickly realized the relevance of this.

A vision had come to him without bleeding. This was big. No more bleeding!

Now, if he could just grab hold of this elusive image trying to make its way into his conscious thoughts from his dreamsâ€"or from wherever these vision came from. So he lay there in bed and tried his hardest to grab hold of the amorphous vision.

No good.

The harder he tried, the more it slipped away. He likened it to a photograph held just beyond his peripheral vision, a photograph that was slowly burning. And the more he strained to look at it, the faster it burned....









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