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DJB: Memoirs, Volume 3: Bad Beauty

Posted in Fiction, Vampirony, writing with tags , , , , on February 21, 2011 by vampirony

Folding memories can be taxing in the best of times, depending on the emotions embedded therein. And a split-second of an image, much like a single Chinese character, can hold a multitude of meanings when removed from context. One particular memory refused to be folded. It had always been such even though the memory was over two hundred years old. When I had been human, I had been exceptional only in my ability to be mediocre at everything I tried and in my first decades of being a vampire, I had been equally disappointing.

I hadn’t become a vampire by choice so it wasn’t something I had entered into hoping it would override the days of languishing in stupefying uselessness. However I once I had come to terms with it and learned where my peculiar vampire abilities lie, I had learned to enjoy the results. The more mastery over myself as vampire, the more confident I had become…and the more I wanted to bury the weaker times of my existence.

This memory was of one of those times as a young vampire. And the only way I seemed to be able to deal with it was to pen it back into my last volume of memoirs, in third person narrative. The years had given me perhaps a chance to find something new in my recollection, something that might be useful to the now…

When Dag Jesper Bretton, vampire, had stood upon the docks in Hong Kong, his clothes in tatters and soaked, his face smeared with ash and dirt, all he could think of as the first twinges of dawn began to taint the clouds was that he wanted to get to anywhere else but where he was now. Hong Kong had been a serious miscalculation from the start. His Danish looks made him stand out in any crowd, even at night, and even his maturing cloaking abilities did not shield him here.

The local Jiang-Shi, soul vampires as he had come to know, would never be willing to share their nighttime haunts with a foreign European devil. More than once, he’d been mistaken for German and attacked as the local vampires had a particular dislike for them. He looked nothing like a German but his fair looks still seemed to elicit their strongest ire.

It hadn’t helped things that his female traveling companion had vanished days after they’d arrived. He’d admittedly been a little glamoured by the French vampiress and running away to the Orient with her had seemed ever so romantic. She’d been petite, beautiful with marble for skin and by all accounts had been duly impressed with him being many decades her elder.

It had been a harsh reminder of how horrifyingly bad his love life had always been excepting one bright spot which he even now refused to let himself think on.

The little French vampiress had abandoned him, likely tired of him in favor of some rich, exotic opium dealer. She’d talked of little else on the trek over. But then again, travelling in the night, sometimes nailed into burlap-wrapped boxes, strapped to coaches, in trains, on ships, for hours with nothing to give them peace from each other except the dawn and its insistent comatose sleep, surely that was more time together than a casual affair could bear.

“God kveld!”

Jesper raised his head at the familiar sound. He never forgot a voice anymore. So intrinsic to his survival was it that he knew immediately that it was the big friendly if slightly myopic Norwegian he’d met earlier in a brothel while trying to find his vampiress. The place, more opium den than pleasure house, was trying to cheat the burly but affable sailor. Normally, Jesper stayed clear of entanglements but when thoroughly drunk and trying to make sense of his circumstances the big Norwegian started to curse in Danish as well as Norwegian, the sound of his mother tongue had compelled Jesper to help. It had been a small matter. The Norwegian had been settled with exactly the kind of company he’d wanted.

“God kveld, Gregers.”

A smile of all his crooked and missing teeth split the Norwegian’s face. He extended a hand and slapped Jesper on the shoulder. Had Jesper not his preternatural strength, the blow might’ve landed him in the bay.

While short on conversation, more mutters and grunts, Jesper had been able to surmise that his assistance had been timely: Gregers’ ship was about to sail to the Americas, San Francisco to be exact. Had Jesper believed he had any other luck besides this current string of bad, he might have felt that fortune was finally smiling upon him. Gregers had noted Jesper’s keen eye and they needed a night watch onboard. With very little prodding, Jesper soon found himself onboard, glamouring the captain into strict instructions on how he must never be disturbed during the day so that his sight would be sharply adjusted for the night.

Weeks of searching for his vampiress had netted more than a few scraps with the local Jiang-Shi warlord, Teng-Wen. He’d managed to escape each time but a whisper grew into a rumor of a night banshee that was high on drugged up missionaries.

Jesper had no proof that it was Bellecroix, the French temptress, with her doe like brown eyes. But the Jiang-Shi had started to call this night banshee the Dark Pearl and since Jesper had known her, Bellecroix had never removed the string of pearls from around her neck. Yes, it was time to leave before Teng-Wen and his horror made any connection between Jesper and this Dark Pearl.

Whatever evil she had fallen under (here, the author must remind himself that Vampirism might be considered the ultimate evil incarnate), Bellecroix was beyond his reach.

Within an hour, just as dawn was breaking through, Jesper was buried deep in the bowels of the ship, huddled under tarps, living in those last moments before dawn took all his consciousness. The fear was there again, yet another place to learn, new arrangements to try and make, all on his own again. But there were possibilities too. He’d always wondered about the new world, been curious to see it but like so many vampires, the voyage itself seemed ever so daunting and unbelievably perilous. But as night watch on a boat full of the proverbial drunken sailors, this had to be the golden goose, he’s very best chance of staking a place out for his own.

In some ways, Jesper didn’t really care. The dread he was under had repeated its refrain, over and over, until it drowned out all fear and doubt: Anywhere but here.

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Always Have an Exit Strategy

Posted in Fiction, Vampirony, writing with tags , , , on December 11, 2010 by vampirony

The first time I administered the Jugular Reflex test was strictly an accident. I had lived in the hills of Darjeeling at the base of the Himalayas, completely unaware of my previous lives. My mundane life as an upper caste bride of a handsome, charming but moody older man came to a calamitous end when I had brushed the side of his throat trying to calm him during one of his increasingly common rages. He had transformed in front of my eyes, revealing gnarled hands and a mouth full of jagged fangs. He had ripped my throat open before I could move my hand.

As I lay bleeding to death in my wedding garb, the blood matching that of my hand beaded dupatta, he had sobbed over me, confessing that he was rakshasha, an ancient vampire who had always used his abilities to fight for good. He had tried to find some way to sooth his soul as he aged and became more restless. When he’d met me, he had felt calm sweep over him and proposed, certain I could calm the gathering darkness in him.

He had been right about what I had been meant to do but at the time, I had no way of forcing myself to remember my past. And it had taken more time to understand what the reflex meant in vampires struggling with age depravity. But I hadn’t understood in that lifetime. Past lives had flashed before my eyes, maybe only four of them, as my current life had bled out and I had neither time nor inclination to be able to do anything with that knowledge. There was only a moment’s fleeting remorse at not being able to help him before I passed into the unknown again.

The smell of sand, blood, and some floral perfume washed over me before I jolted back to the present, to the problem at hand. Having a lap full of Danish vampire wasn’t really my plan but something so familiar kept tickling the hairs of my neck that I literally felt frozen to the floor.

“Please…stop…”

His voice was barely a breath, not recognized by my head until after my hand had already complied. Once I stopped caressing the back of his neck, Jesper pushed himself up and off me, stumbling back into the exam table. He blinked, looking around as if he had no idea where he was or how he got there. Then he saw me still sitting on the floor and met my eyes for the briefest moment.

“I, uh, I gotta go.”

He turned, knocked into my bag, almost spilling it over but righting it before pushing past the crowd at the door. All but Lucy followed him and I heard him grumble to Nick, “Can I borrow your jacket…thanks.” Then I heard the door open, heels clicking quickly across the floor, a whoosh of wind, and a loud thump.

“Hey!” I heard Nick yell.

Lucy watched the scene in the reception area unfold while I remained stunned on the floor, hands held up in front of me. The smell of flowers threatened to pull me back into my memories. Looking at my hands, sunshine began pouring down on me and sands were running through my fingers. Far in the distance, I heard Lucy call out my name but the memories gripped me.

I was digging in the sand. Not the loving act of making the sand tomb as before but clawing at the sand with every fiber of my being. But the sand from the dune kept filling in what I uncovered. For a moment, my fingers brushed through golden hair, felt warm skin, but sand rushed over those places my fingers touched.

As I dug, cold crept over me, tightening my hands, making my fingers numb. At first, I thought it was the abrasiveness of the hot sand. But when I looked down where I kneeled, the sand was wet with red. It reminded me of sitting in the Scout, the blood flowing just the same.

I snapped back, gasping. Lucy had her arms around me, gently shaking me. I grabbed her shoulders.

“Don’t tell the others. Please.”

Heels and feet moved back toward the door. When I looked up, Nick and Morena appeared in the doorway. Lucy, without another word, gently hoisted me up and neither human noticed my fingertips pressing tightly into the vampire’s skin.

She leaned me against the exam table, where I put my hand down flat to steady myself. I didn’t look at her, afraid another memory flood might be triggered. Instead, I looked to Nick, knowing he was new and different and not connected at all to my past.

He smiled tightly and leaned against the doorjamb, “Are vampires always such dicks? He stole my leather jacket.”

“Borrowed, I think is the correct term,” Morena spoke.

“Yeah, right, borrowed.”

“He took it to cover his wounds. Why would he possibly want to keep it?”

“Well, he’s lucky it’s a balmy night. It can be a cold ride across the I-90 late at night.” Nick sighed. Then perked up again, “And did he actually poof into smoke?”

“No, just disappeared.”

“Oh.”

The light banter brought me all the way back to the current living and as Lucy sensed this, she stepped away. I glanced up at her movement and saw her pulling her hair forward to cover her burned ear. When I tilted my head, she spoke.

“I’ll be ok in a few days. I don’t think Maurice will notice it.”

I tried my voice, found it worked. “I wouldn’t mention any of this to him.”

“Who’s Maurice? Your head vampire?” Nick asked.

Morena slapped him on the chest. “This isn’t Lost Boys.” Then she threw a look at me. “They don’t have to be with their maker, do they?”

Before I could reply, Nick pointed at Lucy.

“Say, does that Maurice dude look like you?” Nick asked her.

“Why, yes. We’re twins.”

“Dude’s creepy as shit. He gave me Sophie’s cell phone when I finally made it to the Ice Lounge.”

Lucy and I exchanged a look. She and I would have to find time to talk about just how much Maurice could be called upon in my current endeavor. But not tonight. I didn’t have the nerves for it. I put a hand on my doctor’s bag, just to feel something familiar to ground me and glanced in. A smile crossed my face. At least I was getting through to him. On his way out, Jesper had grabbed a few lemons out of my bag to take with him.

I should have tried not to think about him right now but somehow, with the lemons, a more pleasing memory came into my mind. My grandmother had had a lemon tree at her house in El Cajon. I still carried seeds from that original tree with me, hoping to sometime find a climate that I could cultivate them properly. Apparently, seeds of a thought had taken root in Jesper’s mind.

I sighed. He hadn’t killed me. I’m not sure what had happened but he hadn’t harmed me in any way. That instinct of mine, from when I had first met him, seemed to be holding true. And he trusted me. Trusted me enough to take the lemons of his own accord.

“I take it class is over for the night,” Morena said when the silence had lengthened.

“Gee, ya think?”

Morena slapped Nick lightly on the arm again.

We all walked back into the wrecked reception room where I noticed the Memento was sitting on the floor just near the door. When I tossed a look back at Nick, he explained.

“Oh, I had the book in my jacket and when Glowy Vampire Guy grabbed the jacket, he touched it or something.”

“He tried to take it with him?”

“Uh, not really. It sorta tried to follow him.”

“What?”

Morena spoke up, “You probably knocked it over.”

Nick violently shook his head. “No, I didn’t. It was in the jacket, then he headed for the door, went POOF out the door, it sorta vibrated or something and flew across the room just as you closed the door.”

I made my way over to the book.

“It did not fly across the room. That’s impossible,” she argued.

“How the Hell would you know? You were looking outside. You had your back to it.”

“It’s just a book. Books don’t fly across rooms unless someone throws them.”

“Look, do you really think I need to make this shit weirder than it already is?”

Morena was just about to start in again when Lucy asked, “Sophie?”

I leaned down to the book, careful not to touch it. Jesper had inadvertently touched the book. And it had moved. Moved towards him.

That sealed it. There was no more doubt. As sure as I was of Nick’s newness in my history, I was just as certain of my prior acquaintance with Jesper. Somehow, somewhere, he and I had met before, the tale of which was hidden somewhere in the pages of the Memento, pages kept currently hidden and protected between hard leather covers.

I flipped open the top cover. Nothing more happened. I started slowly flipping through pages.

“What’re—?” Nick started.

“Don’t you ever stop talking?” Morena asked.

Lucy chided them both quickly back into silence, a small twist of Vox in her reply. “Shush.”

With her voice, pages seemed to flip on their own, her and Maurice’s page wavering aloft for a moment before flipping one more forward. I knew this page, its edges well worn. It was the same page the book had flipped open to when I’d first arrived. Jesper’s page. Something told me the story on this page could not be revealed unless both he and I wanted it to be.

Time for another email to Bruno, the current guardian of the Memento. There were secrets here that needed telling before someone else was lost to this lifetime.

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Right to the Jugular

Posted in Fiction, Vampirony, writing with tags , , , on October 30, 2010 by vampirony

“Ahhhhhh,” was all  the sound Jesper could manage pulling his bottom lip up over his bottom teeth.

“Ok, done,” I said stepping away. I took note of the measurement and wrote it down, amazed.

“So?” he asked rather tersely, fangs still fully extended and pinching into his chin slightly.

“Six.”

“Six?” his eyes widened, almost impressed.

“Centimeters, I’m afraid.”

“Oh.” He suddenly looked deflated.

“Yeah, I know. Disappointing.” I paused to take in his suddenly sullen mood.  “It’s only a full four centimeters longer than any other vampire on record.”

He shrugged before he caught it. “Wait, just how many vampire fang measurements are on record?”

I smiled. “I’ll never tell.”

The examination had gone well with more surprises than I could swat a stake at. And he endured it all with only a mild irritation and mostly a bemused grimace. There was one more test. I rarely got comfortable enough with a vampire to do it. But it only made sense to try.

Whatever his disposition, he was quite a troubled vampire with abilities he didn’t understand. The sooner I tested his control, the better I’d be able to prescribe some remedy.

He caught my hesitation. “What now?” his arms tensing as he held the edge of the exam table. His chest wounds still showed no sign of healing however he’d showed no signs of needing to feed either. His fortitude was remarkable. On top of all the other test results I’d need to pore over later.

It needed to be done.

“Why do you suddenly look like neither one of us are going to enjoy this next test?”

I let out the breath I was holding and reached my hands out towards Jesper’s neck. He grabbed both wrists immediately, as if aware of what I intended. But the look of caution in his eyes had nothing to do with him warding me off. Well, not in the way I was used to.

He held my wrists for a few breaths more and after I didn’t struggle against him, he simply released his hold and lowered his hands back to the table. Another deep breath, this time from both of us, almost simultaneously, and I put my hands gently around his throat.

At first he froze but the blood vessels beneath my hands thumped like timpani. His eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed off the table, on top of me, letting out a moan on the way down.

I gasped as I landed on the floor in a thud, Jesper on top of me. Somehow, I had managed to keep one hand on his throat, while the other had tried to absorb some of the fall. My hand had moved to the back of his neck, rubbing along his skin, which felt prickly. Almost sparky.

It was called the Jugular Reflex test. Much like the Patellar reflex test in humans, it showed a reflex arc of vampire sorts. Vampires of all types were very sensitive around their throats and I had developed a rough scale of a vampire’s inherit protectiveness from attempting to touch the throat of said vampire subjects. I had been killed twice administering it thus I reserved it for my most dire or perplexing cases.

As I was about to say something to him, I thought better of it, moving my fingers again, up into his hairline at the base of his skull. He moaned again and curled up into my lap. Like a cat. And his breath sounded like he was…purring.

In that moment, with his whole body curled on top of mine, my hand at the back of his neck, he was completely defenseless, either unaware or unable to protect himself.

This was a serious problem for which I had no solution.

So stunned was I that when a knock to the door came and it suddenly opened, I made no attempt to move from under Jesper. Which offered the line of observers, Lucy, Morena, and Nick behind, a rather compromising view.

“Well,” Nick quipped, after a stunned silence washed over everyone. “I guess the lovebirds are getting along just fine.”

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Happy Accidents

Posted in Fiction, Vampirony, writing with tags , , , , on August 14, 2010 by vampirony

“Do you need blood? Like right now?” I asked Jesper once he settled on the examination table. To get him here, it had taken multiple assurances to those left in the waiting room that I knew how to handle this and would take care. Of myself, I’m sure.

Lucy barely registered anything since she was replenishing herself; she was blood-zoned. Nick seemed to just accept that, for the most part, I had this. Before class, I had given him the Book to start reading through since much of my Vamp notes were scribbled in there along with the recollections.

It was Morena that looked at Lucy and then Jesper and then me. But before she could make the leap, I had flippantly said, “Let’s take care of that scratch, shall we?” and escorted him to one of the newly finished rooms.

“No,” was his simple answer and he took off the ruined shirt I had liked so much. I looked at those holes in his chest and marveled. He gave me a faint smile. He knew I didn’t believe him. But this was part of that game called Trust. And to receive, one must give. Or maybe he was shy about being exposed.

I looked down at the table. I should be thinking about what methods I knew to close up a wound like that. Blood. Whether some stitching would help close it. Blood. Maybe just a bandage.

A hand covered mine, warmer than it had a right to be. Jesper bent his head, trying to catch my gaze as I was zoning out.

“You seem distracted.’”

It had been only a short time ago when another vampire had spoken those same words to me during a session. But that was where the similarities stopped. I raised my gaze to look up at Jesper. He sat on the examination table, shirt off, two large gaping holes in the middle of his chest, bending his torso so as to better meet my gaze, his left hand covering mine, brows lowered in consideration, maybe even concern.

I must’ve looked shell-shocked. In the other room, another vampire, my long lost ward, was nearly burned to a crisp by a power I had never seen and two humans were trying to make sense of the dark and dangerous world that they had someone found themselves in. I’d had a game plan and it ended up with two injured vampires, one dazed human, and one that wanted any excuse to fire her pistol.

Moment of doubt? You bet.

His fingers curled around my hand, drawing my attention back down. He was looking down too.

“This didn’t quite go as you planned, I gather.”

I couldn’t even manage a laugh at the complete absurdity of that comment. But I realized he didn’t know how any of this was supposed to work. This was only our second official session. And our first session wasn’t in any way something I would deem as standard.

“No. I would never introduce two vampires like that. Or put two humans in harm’s way of that interaction.”

His grip tightened for a moment. “Three.”

I looked up at him, questioning.

“You didn’t include yourself. You could’ve been hurt far worse than you were." He paused. “I’m not quite sure what that was that I did.”

And there it was in his face, his own self doubt. His eyes slide to the floor for a moment as he took a deep breath. I wrestled with what my appropriate response should be. This so wasn’t like any other consult I’d done before. He lowered his guard in ways that lowered mine but still managed to tell me almost nothing. I should be finding ways of building up a professional dialog between us so he would trust me with his fears, open up, allow me to help him.

Instead, I squeezed his hand in return to encourage him.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” he whispered. “First the dreaming, then the waking during the day, now this.”

It was the slightest thing, like a switch turned on in some dark room in a very old unkempt and untidy building in a decaying ghost town hidden away in the woods. Suddenly there was purpose, decision, forethought…light.

My back straightened slightly and my demeanor made a shift. It wasn’t Shields Up per say. Just the focus shifting away from what I wanted, needed to what needed to be done.

“You’ve never shown that…that power before?”

"No,” he said softly still lost in his own mind. But he was Vampire; it didn’t take him much to notice the difference in me. He raised his head slightly which allowed me to straighten up completely. Our hands lost touch as if nothing had happened. “Never.”

“Do you remember what you said?”

“Um, funny, I can’t.”

“It was Russian.” I stepped away from the table and went over to the cabinet, pulled out my standard examination bag. I brought it over and set it on the table next to him. Then I stared at his chest. “Does it hurt?”

A confused look furrowed his brow before he glanced down at his chest. He seemed to have forgotten all about the two holes in his chest that showed no signs of healing. No bleeding either. “Barely notice it now. It hurt a lot at first.”

“Good, that’s pretty standard. Your brain can more effectively turn off pain receptors where needed.” I opened the bag and started pulling out a few objects: measuring tape, a strip of Velcro, a small jar of cornichons.

He watched me patiently. “You’re not going to make me eat those, are you? I think the lemon was quite enough.” He smirked. It was good to see him so bemused with me, especially after we’d just been so, ur, intimate, a few moments ago.

“No.” I grabbed the notepad out of the bag and jotted down a note. “I’m more impressed with your complete lack of allergy to silver.”

“Oh. That.”

“Ever had a problem with it?”

He scrunched up his face in a way that was, frankly, adorable. “Um, not that I can remember currently.”

I smiled. Vampires had particularly keen memories, when unfolded. It was time to impress upon him that this really wasn’t my first rodeo. “Do you use a journal or a talisman to fold your memories?”

“I’m sorry.” It was like I had slapped him awake. I had caught him off-guard.

“Vampires jealously guard their memories but also need a way of folding them away for safe keeping to leave room for more current ones. Most vampires use either a writing method or a prayer method, like rubbing a talisman, to gain the focus to fold the memories in their minds with a mental key that they can use to unlock later.”

His face went blank. “That’s a very closely guarded secret of our kind. Where did you get that information?”

“The same place I found out about how different vampires are allergic to different metals.” That stirred a nightmarish thought in black velvet that I cast aside. “You obviously are not bothered by silver, which is very unusual. If you had been allergic, Lucy would have –.”

“I suppose yes, she might have killed me.” A look passed across his face that assured me otherwise. If Lucy had been any greater threat, she would be dead right now. As it stood, she was probably still alive by his intention because of her obvious bond with me. And perhaps, by happy accident, because I had gotten in the way.

I put down the book and took up the measuring tape, not wanting to think anymore about anyone’s death. Mine, his, or Lucy’s.

He continued, “Are you examining me?”

I sighed, “Well, yes. How else am I to diagnose what is happening to you?”

He seemed disappointed. “Oh. I just thought you wanted me with my shirt off.”

I still blushed. “Come on,” holding up the measuring tape.

“And what do you hope to measure with that? Before you answer, it is a bit chilly in here.” He paused for a moment. “But if you keep leaning in like that, I don’t think that’ll matter.”

In any other circumstance, with any other vampire, I would’ve jumped back once he’d called attention to the fact that I was leaning against him and reaching up with the measuring tape towards his mouth. But I was already well aware that Jesper was not like any other vampire.

But the tape did make him uncomfortable. He tightened his lips even as his instincts flexed his fangs out slightly. I tried to get the tape aligned but he moved his head away.

“Come on now,” I said, lowering the tape. “Fang out for me. I need to measure.”

“No.”

“Why not?” I put a hand on my hip. This sudden shyness about I Am Vampire was startlingly endearing.

“Why does the length of my fangs have to do with anything?”

I scratched my brow. “Historically, vampire strains have been hidden in everything from local legends about demons to kung fu movies about hopping corpses. I never know what reference material is going to equate to some yet-to-be-determined strain of vampire. You are unique. Your strain isn’t likely to be in the Vampire Encyclopedia.”

He crossed his arms. “Even if there were such a book, why would my strain help any of this?”

I couldn’t tell if he was being obstinately charming or charmingly obstinate. If he was truly worried about my cataloging him, he hid it well under very normal self consciousness.

I spoke in my most professional and serious voice. “I won’t tell anyone what I learn or use that information in any way without your consent.” I put my hand to my talisman since he still seemed dubious. “Jesper, I promise.”

His eyes fixated for a moment on the infinity symbol over my neck. It was a classic subtext, one that he must be well aware of. An offer of blood (my throat) if I broke my vow. His eyes flipped up to mine again.

“Well, ok. But can’t we start with some other test? I don’t fang out, as you say, on command.”

“What? Like foreplay?” I joked before I could filter the thoughts and therefore words out. Blushing again.

“You don’t like foreplay?” He looked amused and surprised all at once.

Oh so not professional. Damn him and his facial expressions. Most vampires looked like they had too much Botox when they spoke, with immovable faces. I tried to hide my reddening face. Stupid, he could not only see but smell, almost taste the blood rushing into the capillaries in my cheeks, face, now neck even.

I handed him the pickle jar. “Here. Open this.” He did so without issue and idly set it back down on the table, lid loosened but not off. I paused to write that down. “Pull this apart,” handing him the Velcro. He examined it for a moment, ripped it apart gently, paused to stare at me, then set each strip separately also to the side.

I grabbed the box of flat toothpicks out of the bag and “accidentally” dropped it on the floor. When he moved to get off the table to pick them up, I gently pushed his chest to stop him and watched him settle back on the table with a shrug.

“Ok, now fangs.”

“That was your idea of foreplay?” He rolled his eyes. As the long, thin, elegant fangs slid down from his mouth, he said, with very little impact to his speech, “I will remember to teach you a few things about that if given half a chance.”

“It’d better be more than half,” I idly commented as I again leaned forward with my measuring tape.

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3 Weeks from Now

Posted in Fiction, Vampirony, writing on June 26, 2010 by vampirony

 

All the signs seemed against them as the frantic group drove under the cover of morning’s last darkness to the relative safety of the deli. It was Sunday, normally light on morning traffic except for this morning, a dawn-breaker marathon for some new en vogue health cause kept all the main surface streets in downtown Bellevue clogged. For the last few days, the Pacific Northwest had been socked in by morning fog and dark grey afternoon skies but this morning, the fog was lifting early, forcing one passenger even deeper under his hooded cloak. It was if the universe was trying to have its say with all these impediments.

And as for the blood, it seemed to keep spilling out of everywhere, regardless of what they tried. By the time they cleared the last stoplight and parked behind the old building, the interior of the Range Rover was soaked red and dawn was breaking through the wispy clouds.

It was going to be a beautiful day in Seattle.

Nick sprang in through the front door of the Deli, pulling down all the shades, making it as dark as he could. Jesper, the vampire, entered next, carrying his bloody burden while Morena trotted along beside him, flipping the deep hood of his cloak back once inside so he could see where he was going.

“Nick, clean towels or sheets, anything you can find. These are soaked,” Morena called to him.

He nodded as he watched Jesper pick a clean Formica table to lay Sophie down on. He watched it as if removed from reality, like it was a movie. It was the beast that craved and drank blood, carrying a helpless woman seemingly bathed in it but making no move to devour her. Quite the contrary, Jesper laid her gently down, as if she weighed as much as a feather, his hand cradling her head until it gently met the table. He took his hands away then tore his cloak off, bundled it up, and again lifted her head carefully to lay the cloak underneath.

“Nick,” Morena called.

“Right.”

Nick hurried into the back, noticing as he rushed past that Sophie’s book, the Memento, had somehow come to sit on the deli counter, near the cash register. He couldn’t remember how it had gotten there but he only spared a thought for it. He needed linens. As he heard behind him the sounds of Sophie’s gurgled breathing, he knew he needed lots of them.

Jesper took a step back to let Morena take a look. She ripped open the leather jacket that was holding their makeshift dressings in and gasped at the puddle of blood already forming on top of the wading. She started to peel the drenched dressings off, revealing Sophie’s bare stomach that was ruined by claw and bite marks. It looked as her stomach had simply been torn away.

Jesper croaked, “Why is there so much blood?”

“I don’t know. They ripped open some arteries.” Morena tried to apply pressure while waiting for the clean dressings but there was nothing to apply pressure too. Her innards, they seemed to be simply gone.

Jesper didn’t pose his question again. Morena had clearly not understood him. He was not new to seeing traumatic injuries of this sort inflicted by all sorts of creatures. But that her attackers had left her mostly intact, he puzzled over. He’d noticed earlier the scratch to her neck. But other than that and her ruined torso, she was in one piece.

Not the way of most hungry packs. Nor the way of hungry covens looking for a meal to let so much blood go spilled, wasted. No, this was some sort of message. This method of ripping her open meant something to him. He struggled to understand it, to take responsibility for it.

Nick arrived back, arms full of the morning’s fresh laundry in the form of table cloths, tea towels, and napkins. He passed them one by one to Morena as she repacked the barren inside of Sophie’s torso with them.

“She’s bleeding to death,” he said.

Sophie again struggled to breathe. It was the only sound they’d heard from her as she lay mostly still.

“More likely, she’s drowning in her own blood,” Morena corrected him.

Jesper felt the truth tugging at him and it drew him forward with a purpose only to be met with the Kukri held to his throat. He couldn’t remember Morena having it in her hand but he realized she must have had it available all along. Just in case.

“You try to drain her and you’ll end up killing her more quickly.”

Jesper looked down into her determined face.

“What?” Nick asked, not understanding.

Jesper continued to look. And listen. They could all her Sophie’s gurgling breath, her gasps for air. And see. They could all see her utter lack of movement. At the very least, her back was broken even if her spine was not entirely severed.

He saw the determination in Morena’s eyes begin to crumble as the wheezing and gurgling slowed.

She dropped her hand, turned back to Sophie. “I just don’t know what to do. Nick, maybe some of that styptic powder. Under the counter.”

Nick’s thoughts were grinding to a halt. He was stuck on the last moment when he’d perceived Morena treat Jesper more like foe than friend. What was that? What did that mean?

“Nick, the styptic!” Morena shouted, louder than she needed.

Nick moved, vaguely conscious of his body going back to the deli counter and searching underneath until his hands found the jar of powder. Something was happening and he couldn’t get his mind around it. He wasn’t a fighter, he’d never do in the military, and here, his boss, his friend was bleeding out on the table of her own deli. Her friends were seemingly squaring off. What was happening to his world? Why couldn’t he think through this fog in his mind?

Jesper could tell Morena would not look him in the eyes again. She had her back to him; her resolve devastated by each struggling breath. It had been her call to avoid the emergency room, even when Jesper had begged they go without him. But he trusted her so had let Morena decide. And she knew that these injuries were worse than they’d suspected. They had all assumed she’d endured a claw attack, not that she had been eviscerated.

He put a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder, felt her tremble. It wasn’t fair of him, using his touch link with her to move her out of his way, but he could no longer rely on her. He folded back the collar of Sophie’s jacket to look at her grazed neck. As he leaned down to her, the tears formed. No sobs. No cries. Not even a shred of emotion. But still, the water pooled in his eyes and rolled off his face, onto her neck.

Sophie’s eyes opened for the first time in a long while. She saw him leaning over her. She tried to shake her head.

“No,” she croaked.

“I cannot let you die,” he said simply, his other arm reaching over to her other shoulder, his hand creeping under her neck.

Morena shook her head, horrified. The cries and panic were building in her but for the moment, she seemed unable to move.

“I don’t know what to do. Her injuries…she’s been ripped open.”

“I can save her,” Jesper said, eyes locked with Sophie’s. This was exactly what he’d wanted for so long. Somehow, there was no victory in them arriving at this place in this way. He’d thought of it less and less over the months, but it had always involved a candlelit dinner of some sort, quietly holding hands in some dark but splendid place, maybe a mountain top, and always, always, her loving eyes asking him to do it.

Her eyes were loving but denying.

“No, you can’t.” She swallowed, her voice just a hair stronger. “Get the Book.”

“No,” he protested.

It was the old argument over again. Even here and now, when she needed him most, when everything he was he could finally lay at her feet to deliver her from certain death, she pushed it all away. He couldn’t find the anger at this point. Only the horror of time running out freezing whatever ran through his veins.

Nick stood up, hearing the mention of the Book and somehow, instead of the jar of Styptic powder in his hand, he found he had taken up the Book, as if it had driven him by its own will. He remained stunned and lethargic. Sophie kept meaning to tell him everything about the Book but there was always some other thing to teach him, tell him, something so much more urgent in the world he now found himself moving in. But he’d spent long laborious hours with the Book. She’d asked him to read it, not to transpose it but it had seemed so foolish not to, if it was so important to her. Paper was so fragile, so susceptible to the elements.

The leather-bound tome with pages discolored and aged from seemingly the very beginning of time was monstrous in size. Some eight inches thick with vellum paper, it resembled more an ancient cookbook than the life and times of Sophie Quinn. Or lives and times, he guessed would be more accurate.

“Here it is,” Nick spoke, hurried back over, knowing it was the most important thing that he get her the Book. As he tried to give it to her, she pushed it towards Jesper.

“Keep it safe,” she whispered. “… so I can remember.”

“I will not do it.”

Her will seemingly giving her strength, clearing some of the clutter from her voice, she insisted, “It’s the only way I can find you.”

He rose up, as if in protest, tears still dropping from his eyes, all over her. “I cannot wait for you again.”

As if awoken from a daze, Morena looked around her. “Nick, the powder.”

Nick looked at her, agitated, “It’s no use.”

The cobwebs cleared from Morena’s mind and here it was, her good friend, bleeding to death in front of her. And she had been the one that had made the call to avoid the emergency room and all its dangerous questions and suspicions. What had she done?

“I don’t know what else to do.”

Nick could see it was breaking Morena apart and just as suddenly as the will of the Book had imposed itself on him, he felt it free him. He pushed the Book against Jesper’s chest, blocking his view of Sophie.

“Take it,” Nick insisted.

Jesper didn’t need to see Sophie’s eyes to know she would never be with him again. They had skirted around the inevitable for months now. To be together, he needed to end his vampire life or she needed to embrace it. But she believed he would be forgiven, that he would return to the path if he ended his soul’s unnaturally long existence in this form. That it might take more lifetimes but that they would meet again. And be together.

But those were her beliefs. He knew only fear and ultimate doubt when he thought about gods or religion. All there was in this life was what he had now. He had managed to make the most of what he’d been given. He’d begun a fearful, stupid youth worlds away. He couldn’t relive it all. He couldn’t believe that by good deeds alone fortune would shine on him and give her back to him yet again.

He’d done much in this long, long existence, much of it against any human or spiritual laws or rules. How she could pretend that any god she believed in would not deliver her into Heaven long before pardoning him from Hell had, at one point, amused him. Now it simply brought the horror of this moment into true fruition.

“Take it,” Nick repeated, with much more force. Morena was falling apart by the second. He needed to comfort her. He needed to tend to the living. It was what Sophie had always told him he was best at.

Jesper looked down at the tome that was his enemy and gingerly took it from his young human friend, although he knew that Nick had no clue what that simple act meant. He held it tight against his chest. He would end his fight with it. He would accept the result.

His taking of the Book allowed Nick to move around behind him, put his arm around Morena, let her collapse against his shoulder, covering her face with her hands. She had always been strong, through everything. It was her turn to be vulnerable, to need comfort.

Jesper looked down at Sophie and saw her eyes shining. “You cannot ask this of me.”

She smiled up at him. Her innards ripped apart, a terrible secret between them that caused this vicious attack, and the Book that spoke of their eternal separation, and she smiled up at him. There even seemed to be some color back in her cheeks.

“The only way to save us both is to let me go.”

She believed it so completely, he almost believed her.

He looked her over, his eyes having cleared for a moment. He pulled back the linens Morena had tried in vain to staunch the bleeding with and watched as blood flowed anew. His eyes watered again as he leaned over to inspect her ruin. It was clearer to him now what they had been after by how low the original attack had been and how far back into her abdomen they had dug.

And the horror of what they had done to her because of him shook all hesitance and regret from his entire being even as the teardrops fell over her again. She had no idea what they’d both lost.

“You have to promise me.”

He must have paused for too long. She reached out her hand, grabbed at his arm.

“Love, please let me go.”

Jesper moved his head back to her face, brushed her cheek just as her eyes rolled back into her head, body beginning to quake with seizures. He gripped her shoulders hard to hold her down.

“Don’t worry. I’ll save us both.”

Jesper kissed Sophie’s cheek as she suddenly went still, air leaking out of her mouth. His eyes suddenly cleared of moisture and he straightened stiffly. Without a look to Nick and Morena, he knew that their human senses would take many seconds more to realize, rationalize Sophie’s end and it was the very time he needed. Before they blinked aware, he had moved to stand before the front door of the deli, clutching the Book against his chest.

“Sophie? Sophie? Oh no!”

Jesper heard rather than actually saw Morena grab at Sophie and begin to shake her as Nick tried to hold Morena back. But none of that mattered now. He’d promised to save her, even if he had not spoken the words. But he knew what he now must do was not what she had meant.

He stepped to the front door, aware of the beautiful sunny morning beyond it trying to leak in through the door’s edges, and took the doorknob in hand. In a millisecond, he was through the door, standing on the front steps before Nick and Morena had even registered that Sophie was gone.

But as the front door slammed shut behind him, Morena suddenly became aware. A shift in her thoughts, something that had been muddling them suddenly dropped and her senses sharpened. She didn’t need to understand what happened before. She just knew. She couldn’t say how. But she knew.

“No!” she breathed. She turned toward the front door, moving as quickly as she could before Nick even registered the sound.

Outside, the air was chilled. Jesper blinked up into the first sun he had seen firsthand in centuries, feeling the sun’s light, a powerful burning roar somehow captured within his skin. He began to glow. Blinking up into the light, his eyes surprised him with how clearly he could see the sun, as if it hung just above his reach. So close he could touch it. So strange that it would be the last thing he ever saw, gaseous flames in such grand detail. He patted the Book, wishing he could hurt, damage whatever soul was kept in the inanimate object but even that rage was gone and all was acceptance as he realized there was no shame in this end. He did it for her. He remembered her smile just as he let go of any resistance left within him to his fate.

Morena had almost made it to the door as outside, Jesper’s body, the glow becoming white hot and brilliant, exploded into a giant fireball, consuming all of him and the Book. The explosion blew the front door into a shower of glass and fire, shaking the building and triggering the brand newly installed sprinkler system to flood the deli with 20 gallons of water in 10 seconds.

In the street, all that was left was a pile of ash and a few scattered burning pages. Both the Book and the vampire who had gifted it to his beloved many moons before were no more.

*************

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favour fire…

– Robert Frost, “Fire and Ice”

Considering I’ve perished more than twice and have recollections of it all, I have a pretty good opinion that the odds on fire are pretty good. But this isn’t the end. And it’s definitely not the beginning. But sometimes the middle of the story tells you more of what you need to know to understand all the rest.

And so a new book begins…

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Vampires 101: Trust

Posted in Fiction, Vampirony, writing with tags , , , on January 10, 2010 by vampirony

My concussion rated fairly high in terms of damage done so I thankfully let myself be monitored for forty-eight hours. I fully understand it is more to give the detectives time to try and find some angle I might have on a body disappearing from the morgue than my injuries, no matter how serious. Why they suspect a connection with me, I don’t know. I guess I have that sort of face.

Forty-eight hours in a hospital is a lot of downtime. I think about the detectives, Skovajsa, the blonde Nick has told me about…and Jesper. And Morena. I feel responsible for the attack, even if she may have ran into danger eventually. And one cannot take the knowledge of vampires back. Well, I can’t, at any rate. Offhand, I know three vampires with enough power over the mind to do just that. Boy, it would be useful for her to know that too. And Nick too. Dangerous times for newbies.

It’s time for a class. I start writing up the syllabus. After all, a class is what started me on this path in this lifetime. Dr. Kaga couldn’t have known the connections his course on transcendental meditation would awaken the memories, enabling me to find the book. Which awakened more memories. Most not happy ones.

I text Nick with the cell phone he returned to me, ask him to get some things ready. I also ask him to go see Morena, request she at least talk with me. As I get his affirmative reply, I get another text.

I lied abt u today.

It’s Jesper. I feel him again, this time standing near the window, not so close this time.

Why u do that? <SEND>

Don’t think I know enough abt u yet.

Why did u tell Morena to follow me to protect me? <SEND>

Wanted u safe.

Why? <SEND>

Felt it was important.

Who are u reporting to abt me? <SEND>

Not sure I should tell u that yet.

I can’t help u if u don’t trust me. <SEND>

There are some things a vampire cannot tell.

Means there are some u can. <SEND>
Would u be willing to attend session? Assistant, unfort, has discovered who my clients are, puts him at risk not knowing basics. <SEND>
U don’t have to say anything but I’d like u there to naysay any facts that have changed over my lifetimes.

I…

U know it’s important. <SEND>

Knowing hasn’t kept u out of rm 824 in Overlake Hospital.

No. But it kept me out of morgue. <SEND>

*sigh* (I can feel him sighing as if it’s through her mind.)

Can we talk after your class?

That’s what I intend yes. <SEND>

Is there something u need to talk about now? <SEND>

It can wait.

U know, u can contact me anytime. Like to think u felt comfortable doing that. <SEND>

I do. Would never presume to interfere with ur recovery otherwise.

Why have u? <SEND>

It seemed the thing to do, considering.

U’re not to blame for my attacks. <SEND>

A surprised current runs through the room, as if I shocked him by reading his intentions. Then it dissipates, accepted.

I am transparent.

I’ve gotten pretty good reading vampires. <SEND>

Not so good to know I contacted u because I really look forward to seeing u again.

It is my turn to feel flustered and off-center. He laughs lightly.

You’re blushing.

Yes. <SEND>

It seems I too have not lost all of my abilities to read humans.

So u’ll come to the session? <SEND>

Yes. I will audit your class.

I feel his presence leave the room like the time lapse fading of white fragrant flowers and spices, now with a hint of citrus. First order of the syllabus: abilities of a vampire. Because one cannot teach trust.

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Bellevue: The Office

Posted in Fiction, Vampirony, writing with tags , , , , , on September 6, 2009 by vampirony

I wouldn’t have originally thought that miracle working was on Nick’s resume but I would need to remind him to add it.  Standing in the newly cleaned office, I’m astounded.  Not only has Nick’s connections made the place spic-span, he has taken the liberty of providing some furnishings.  The back wall of the reception area is covered by clean, empty book cases and a rather weary but antique looking desk sits in the middle of the room.  The only other article of furniture, a spacious riveted leather chaise lounge, occupies a large space just by the windows.  The windows have also been repaired but not covered as of yet.

“Good work,” is all I can manage.  Too many surprises from the people around me.  I sometimes forget that happens.

Nick isn’t preening, isn’t pumped up, isn’t acting like this is his first gig.  He seems serious about it all…but relieved, underneath it all.  “Well, unfotunately, my brother’s team couldn’t finish up the exam rooms until tomorrow morning.  And the window coverings will be installed tomorrow too.”

“Still, quite the transformation.  But yes, unfortunate.  I can’t see my first client here until the coverings are installed to my specs.  Are you sure tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I tried for earlier but my Seahawks tickets just weren’t good enough for that.”

I sigh.  Another hotel room meeting is not what I had in mind and the thought of anything approaching last night with Skovajsa…makes me shiver.  Nick tosses me a glance but says nothing.

“Well, I’ll have to see him in his hotel suite then for tonight.”

Just then, my phone buzzes.  I check it.  A terse text from Morena, wanting to meet.  This afternoon.

“Would you like me to come too?”

It takes me a moment to get what Nick means.  I turn to look at him.

He continues, “I mean, just to make sure you’re ok.  I mean, I still don’t really know what you mean by fringe and for all I know, you are a drug dealer.  I, uh, don’t want to intrude on your, uh, clients, though.  Just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Nick, I’m not a prostitute.”

“I didn’t say that.”  He blushes.  “Did it sound like that?  Shit, it did sound like that, didn’t it?”

I smile.

“What?”

“It’s ok.  You’re taking a lot on faith.  And really, it’s sweet, your offer.  But it won’t be necessary.  I do know how to watch out for myself with my clients.  Besides, what’s meant to be will be.”  But it’d certainly be a shame to miss my following appointment.  With Jesper.

I push the thought aside as I point to Nick’s talisman as all the explanation I need.

He glances down at it, as if he’s forgotten he wears it at all.  Looking back up, putting his hands on his hips, “Yeah well, Confucius say ‘The superior man, when resting in safety, does not forget that danger may come.‘”

“Well put.  I’ll leave my phone logged in, just in case.  But right now, I’ve got a whole other danger to see to.”police-target-paper

“What’s that?”

I remember the look on Morena’s face as I left last night.  “Jealousy.”  I look at the message again.

‘We should meet.  6PM.  Bellevue Gun Club.  Tonight.’

Wonderful start to the evening, I’m sure.

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Case #13 – Jesper: Life Hands You Lemons…

Posted in Fiction, Vampirony, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , on August 28, 2009 by vampirony

Finding a sense of humor when you’re in the thick of things either denotes ultimate faith that things will turn out or a complete loss of reality.  I am hoping for the former.  Jesper, the Vampire, is distracted by the lemon, but he still holds me at his whim and Morena, well, she turns out to be very touchy in a crisis.  Of course, maybe this wasn’t a crisis yet.

Jesper speaks, “I know what a lemon is.”

“Well, you asked.”

He growls at me but it’s half-hearted.  He begins to straighten, lets go of my waist but not my arm, his eyes fixated on the lemon in my other hand.

Fascinated by it, he asks, “What is it for?”

“Treatment.”  I straighten so now he is just holding my forearm.

“You can hardly be serious,” he replies.

The fluorescent blue of his eyes starts to fade, his narrow fangs begin to retract.  I’ve never seen a vampire like him.  The fangs in themselves are a first for me, narrow like reeds but long.  They seem to disappear back into his gums above his canines, not as part of them.  Then just those blue-grey eyes, contemplating the fruit in my hand.  The fact that he can’t tear his eyes away from it says it all.  He’s even ignoring the small scrap of blood he left on my forearm.

“You’re sun-starved.  Your..um…friend came to me for help.  It’s a common affliction in older vampires.  The dreams are a symptom, like a bad cough.”

His hand releases the grip on my forearm and slides down to my wrist, now barely holding it.  It makes me shiver.  He glances at me, quizzically.  He sends a very disapproving look at Morena who trembles for a second under it and then he looks back at me.  And I know what he’s about to say from the way he rolls his shoulders back, tilts his head up a an inch. 

“I am Vampire.”

There’s this moment, this strange moment, when my gut tells me: Bullshit!  But I’ve seen the fangs, the eyes, the super speed.  I don’t trust my gut with this vamp.  I can already tell I need a better wall up for any next meeting.  Time to bore him with the details that most vampires hate to hear.

the_four_elements“Life seeks balance in all things, even vampires.  The Classical elements, whether you go Buddhist, Greek, or Chinese, all have the basic four:  Air, Earth, Water, Fire.  Air, you breath, not like mortals but you do breath.  Earth, blood is loaded with earth elements like Carbon and it is, after all, what you’re made of.  Water, you either drink outright or get from the blood you consume.  But Fire, on the other hand.  Well, vampires are extremely sensitive to fire, like the sun.”

“Sensitive?” Jesper the Vampire raises an eyebrow at me and then looks back at the lemon.  “And that helps how?”

I hold it up for him, watch the miniscule flinch it causes him.  “Think of this as the sun in liquid form.”

“And what do you propose I do with it?”

“Suck on it.”

Jesper the Vampire shakes himself, as if repulsed by the very idea.  But he is staring again.

“You want me to suck…a lemon?”

I push a dirty thought aside.  Damn positive vampire…and he’s not actively controlling it either.  “Yes,” I say a little forced before I reign it in.  “I used to use oranges but they’re more subtle and my early patients were able to deny the effects.  Lemons are unmistakable and pack a sufficient punch.”

He drops my wrist and I grab it back, holding it against my chest for a strange sense of comfort.  His eyes fixate on the lemon, widening even.  I can see him thinking.

“This will cure me?” he asks softly.

“Cure is probably not the right word.  Likely not in one shot.”

He tosses me a look.

“If I’d been given a chance to examine you, I might know for sure.  But it will definitely help.”

Morena, who has seemingly faded from the room with all Jesper’s positive juju floating around me, speaks up, “It won’t harm him?”

I turn toward her, glad for the reprieve.  “Not at all.”  I give myself a breath, try to be subtle about it.  But as I turn around, I needn’t have bothered.  He doesn’t even see me any more.  All his focus is on the lemon, as if his gaze could peel it open and unveil its secrets.  I slowly set it down on the coffee table.

“Why don’t I leave this with you?  You can take your time assessing…it, decide what you want to do, whether you’ll let me help you.” I take a step back.  I reach into my pocket and draw out my backup plan.  “Here’s my card and —.”

His eyes change to bright blue for an instant and then, whoosh, he grabs the lemon, and his fangs descend into it, some juice spurting out, as he swallows the rest.  His eyes flash open, glowing gold now, before he shudders and clenches them shut.  He begins to fall, like the fall of a feather, unconscious.  I react immediately, run over, catch him before he hits the floor.  Or rather, he falls on me, as I slide between him and the floor, his head landing in my lap.

I hear the click of Morena’s gun as she readies it, pointing it at me.

“What did you do to him?” she barks.  I might ask myself the same question.

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Case #13 – Skovajsa: Dinner

Posted in Fiction, Vampirony, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , on August 17, 2009 by vampirony

I havea new general rule: Never trust a vampire to set up dinner.  I think this as I arrive at the Cosmopolitan Grill and Steakhouse downtown.  Skovajsa said 10PM.  #The fancy calligraphy on the door says they close at 10PM.  I check around me wary.  It’s been dark for more than an hour.  The most dangerous time of the evening.  But after a moment, the front door opens and I’m ushered in like some sort of royalty.

Escorted by a very happy, young, and overly exuberant waiter to the back room, I see Skovajsa stand from his seat as I arrive.

“You are here.”

“Yes.” I stand at my seat staring at him.  I have to say, even more so than the first time, he’s making an effort to impress.  His suit is elegantly tailored in black and maroon.  His dark looks are not unattractive but something in his demeanor reminds me again of my first impressions.  This time I remember the condition I was thinking of.  Aspergers.  I’d have to look it up later.

“Miss?” the waiter asks, impatiently.  Apparently, he’s been holding my chair back waiting for me.  I’m embarrassed and sitdown as he pushes my chair in.  Then, he tries to put my napkin in my lap I grab it from him and thank him.  He turns on his heel, mumbling about bread.  ‘Scuse me for not liking strange men’s hands in my lap.

Skovajsa remains standing, looking down at me almost as if I’m the main course.  “Please, there is wine.”

menuBoth wine and water glasses are full in front of me.  In fact, it’s a full spread, menu sitting, all glasses and forks and spoons.  I opt for the water, nearly choke as it’s mineral water.  He’s waiting for a response.  I nod, hiding a cough.  “Good.  Thank you.”

He smiles widely.  Then he sits, with a slight blur.  Hard to notice if you weren’t paying perfect attention.  He either is unaware of his overt vampire tells or doesn’t care.

“Thank you for meeting with me again.  Please, order whatever you would like.”

I must have a really twisted sense of humor to agree to meet a vampire, especially a Carpathian, in a steak house. Either that or a morbid sense of foreboding.  I decide not to shine his apple too much about the setup.  I notice Skovajsa staring at me.  He hasn’t moved his facial expression one bit.  I wonder if he is trying to influence me but I don’t feel any unease I usually get.

“Thank you. Sounds like you’ve had some time to think about what it is I can help you with.”  I open the menu, but keep my peripheral vision on him.

He shifts in his chair.  “Yes. I have given it due thought.”

The overly exuberant waiter returns, seems to have found his dramatic thunder:  “Alrighty then. There is your wine, it’s an Opus One 2004 from Napa Valley.  An excellent choice.  We have some great and not so great specials on the menu tonight.  There’s a Dungeness Crab crusted halibut that I’m going to steer you clear of and a Duck prosciutto tomato salad that is just as effete as it sounds. Now pound for pound, the Rib Eye is still the best–.”

Before he winds himself up too much more, I simply ask: “Can I just get a steak salad?”

He looks aghast like I just licked my plate.  “The steak salad?”

“Yes, please.”

“Um, ok.  Very good.”

I’ve burst the waiter’s bubble again and he’s off to go patch and re-inflate.

 “I’m sorry.  You were saying.”

“Yes, I have given it due thought.”

Ok, I remember Carpathian’s being a bit slow but autistic?  I move my glasses, a salt cellar around out of scientific curiosity.  “Ok, what have you come up with?”

He ignores the movement, puts his elbows on the table, clasps his hands together.  “I want to know more about me.”  Oh brother.  He’s rehearsed this.  Maybe in a mirror.  “I want to know more about oscar_4others..ur..of my kind. To better know myself.” 

Yup, he’s been watching Oprah.  Didn’t she just do a piece on energy vampires?

I speak carefully, “Ok.  And what do you hope to accomplish from knowing yourself better?” 
 
I’ve stumped him for a moment.  Then:  “To become a better…to become better.”

“Well, then, it probably makes sense to set up a session, have you tell me about yourself. See what we can uncover together.  How does that sound?  But a few ground rules.  I don’t talk  about other clients, not in specifics.  So don’t bother to ask. And no following or we’re done.  Understood?”

He suddenly looks ecstatic, like he’s picked the lotto numbers.  Or won an Oscar.  “Yes, I understand.  Yes.  This is good, right?”  He laughs. 

I sigh internally as the overly exuberant waiter returns with some sort of starter I didn’t order, ready to again win praise for exemplery service.  Hopefully all my meetings will be this easy.

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The First Mark

Posted in Fiction, Vampirony, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , on August 13, 2009 by vampirony

I open my eyes and somehow, I have rendered a perfect replica on the page of Nick’s talisman.  Surprising as I don’t remember being able to draw even stick figures well.  I finger my own amulet, the infinity symbol held tightly in place over my throat by old worked leather straps.  Given to me as a ward against vamps, it has no special abilities.  Other than granting me the occasional solace.

The exercise of entering Nick into the book has sapped me and I feel completely drained.  The feeling is welcome.  Along with excess energy is gone the worry, the doubt, the fear, the regret, and the guilt.  Not even the shred of karmic resistance remains.  I push the book away.  It is a vampire of sorts.  It’s stealing my memories.  Or making copies, rather, so that I bedmight connect back lifetime over lifetime to what I had been before.

I check the time.  10:11 PM.  After meeting with Morena, then finding the office space and meeting with Nick, running errands, checking out that dumpster for any more UVA, and doing a haul through the library for any further vamp sign, I have no further work.  I contemplate a quick email to my professor and guru Dr. Kaga.  Something is working its way out.  But the fatigue wins out and I make my way to the bed.  nothing to do this night but sleep.

I pass the window, see the new construction across the street, its cranes lit up in the darkness.  Throughout my traveling, I’ve never seen a place in such a hurried state of decay and rebirth, struggling to craft steel and shine while older times crumble slowly beneath it.  It feels all apropos, like the book coming awake after so many years.

Dinner tomorrow night with Skovajsa.  Well, meeting anyways.  What does a vampire do in a steakhouse?

And the next night, the mysterious vampire dreamer.  I do indeed wonder, my Shakespeare ringing in my muted head: What dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause?

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