Unnamed Vampire Story 2

September was the worst, especially towards the end. The tension and exhilaration before and after the candidates' first debate were difficult to bear. Marion monitored the television, newspapers, conservative radio talk shows, even the tabloids with a feverish obsession. Her husband loaned her one of his junior aides, Lauren Schiavone, to create what he called his personal drudge report. At one point, while Mark was at a rally in Ohio, Marion received a personalized assassination threat at one of their campaign offices in Pennsylvania. The campaign staff agreed that there was no way to link the threat to Kerrigan, but afterwards, Marion was constantly flanked by two secret service agents.

In addition to her daily gossip report, which she gave over breakfast, Marion did what she called "The Patrol," a series of mostly unscheduled walks in the towns wherever her husband happened to be speaking. She shook hands and held babies and made the late night talk shows every time a baby decided to spit up on her carefully selected casual suits. Every once in a while, people would try to book her for patrols, but she had a reputation for graciously turning down invitations, instead preferring to show up unexpected. All of these variables frustrated her two guards to no end. Geri, despite having biceps the size of Marion's thighs, objected shyly, but Richard, a retired police sergeant, barked his disapproval every day before they stepped out in public together. She placated him once by visiting his old precinct house, beaming as she helped the police captain turn the news media and tourists away from the door. Then she spoke solemnly with the newest class of academy graduates. "Fight the good fight," she said. "Never forget that the man you capture is a human being. Never forget that when you take off that uniform at night, when you have your straight scotch and watch the Steelers highlights, that that criminal is trying to have a life like yours. We're all hoping to go home, settle down, have a drink. You can't just protect and serve nothing. You have to protect and serve everything you possibly can. Remember: I can only walk the streets because folks like you make them safe."

She lingered there, listening to each beat cop's complaints, making a mental checklist of names, hopes, and desires to share with Mark the next morning. By the time they left, it was almost dark. As they walked back to her hotel room, Richard, keeping his eyes straight ahead, said, "Thank you, Mrs. Summers. That was a mighty fine thing you said today. I'm voting for the other guy, but I like you better."

"That means a lot to me, Richard," Marion replied. She turned to look at him, to see if she could find that tiny twinge in his usually expressionless face, the way she swore she had seen it in Redding's.

She glanced over in time to see his forehead explode, shards of bone and blood flying away from his face as if anxious to escape. For a moment, his large body stood still, unable to catch up with the rest of him, and then he began to topple forward. Behind her, Marion heard Geri's soft voice: "I'm not voting for Mr. Summers either." Then pain. Then vertigo. Then black.