%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
Part 1 10 chapters. |
| Just a work that plays with the myth of Vampires, a metaphorical dance of the constellations, and the strength of human will. |
| The ride took them three hours west, and then onto a dirt road through some very dark woods. Kristen dosed on and off until the car departed the hardtop. Although she had analyzed her feelings for Jimmy, and his failure to openly identify the danger of their mission, she could really relate to JR. He was about her age and light hearted. Kristen knew she could still be vulnerable to some unforeseen misfortune or attack. Mentally pushing aside the vampire incident made it easier to focus on trying to discover the nature of these people. Why had her dreams included Jimmy and JR? Did the night’s events warrant an answer to the question? Were her dreams a warning of things to come? Were her dreams of events already transpired? The turn onto the dark dirt road commanded her attention. She had no idea where she was or really whom she was with. Alert in her posture, Kristen did not realize how strongly she communicated her high level of vigilance. She tried to hide her growing unease caused by the desolate road. JR smiled to himself as her heavy sigh of relief betrayed her insecurity. The lights of the house lit the area very well. There were plenty of cars parked in front of the house and on the side of the dirt road. Kristen was relieved to see there should be lots of people. The house looked like a big log home. Once inside, she inhaled deeply the aroma of cooking food. The place had the look of a ski lodge; stone fire-pit in the center of the room, large timber support beams on the walls and ceiling, a loft area over looking the entire greater room in which she stood. The walls and tables were decorated with more than a few animal trophies: various deer, bear, goats, and boar. Music filled the air, not because of the volume, but rather because there were several speakers around the room. Kristen quickly assessed that the building was built for leisure and entertainment. JR led her straight to the restroom. After freshening up, she looked at the clothes she wore. JR’s T-shirt tucked into her jeans, no real make-up, and a wind blown tease in her wavy hair. She washed the remaining mascara from her face, pulled back her hair and held it in place with a rubber-band, and took in a deep breath. Looking at her reflection, Kristen released the air through her nose. Be brave, she encouraged her reflection. JR led her onto the patio in the back of the home. There were several people up and about, many of whom greeted JR and Kristen. Several chairs were around a fire at the far side of the yard. As she followed JR, the layout of the place became more apparent. The patio opened up to a well-groomed spa of sorts. There was a nice sized pool, two hot tubs, many table and chair sets, and lounge chairs. The fire was in a low stone pit. Several people were around it on chairs, towels, or blankets. The lighting was much better here and the layout of the house was much more visible. It wasn’t a house at all. Several numbered doors belied the layout of a guesthouse or lodge. Each of the rooms had a door opening to the pool area, and the rooms on the upper floor could be accessed by a stairway on either end of a common mezzanine. An outbuilding had showers and toilets. Tents peppered the grounds around the wood line. JR interrupted Kristen’s survey of the place by taking her hand in his. “There’s the grill,” he pointed. “Come on,” then he smirked with a twinkle in his eye, “you shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach.” Kristen just smiled politely and nodded. She got a plate of roasted pork, baked beans, and a dinner roll, then followed JR to a table where they sat down. “What is this place? I thought we were going to your dad’s house.” She looked about as she chewed. JR nodded until he had swallowed the food he was chewing. “Yeah, this is it. He bought it to open a hunting ranch, but he got into a different business. Now it’s just,” he shook his head searching for the words. ”Now it’s just home,” he finally said with a shrug. “By the way, you’re here for the night, unless you get a taxi, which will cost you about seven hundred and fifty five bucks to get home.” JR shrugged, “no local taxi service. Any way, we have plenty of blankets and pillows.” He shoved more food in his mouth. “What time is it?” Kristen thought about calling her folks. “Three-thirty,” said JR, looking at his watch. He pulled a portable phone out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Kristen. She held up a hand to indicate she did not need it. “I’ll call in the morning. So, does your dad know what you do?” Kristen picked a piece of roasted pork from her plate and bit into it. “Yeah, he knows, so do most of the people here. They’ll keep watch over us. We’ll be safe from anything that goes bump in the night. It works out well that you wanted to tag along. This is holy ground.” He continued eating and watched her reaction. Kristen looked around again. “What do you mean, they know? Keep watch for what? Holy ground?” It sounded incredulous to Kristen. “Not everyone knows, but most of them do. These people will stay up all night long. They watch to make sure of two things. The first is to make sure no monsters followed us. The second, is to make sure we don’t develop an allergic reaction to sunlight in the morning.” He nodded to indicate what she was thinking was true. “This place used to be a compound for priests to take sabbatical. They always bless their property.” Kristen stopped chewing and thought about what JR had just said. “Do they know the details of tonight?” “Probably not yet, and just the fact that we came here pretty much says were safe to be around.” JR wiped his mouth with a napkin and sat back. “When you’re done eating we’ll check on Pops.” Knocking on the door lightly, JR waited, listened for a response. Kristen examined some of the scenes from the Passion play that hung on the walls at regular intervals. A young woman answered the door. The straps of her red bikini top could be seen under the pink tank top with the words ‘Life Guard’ above a red cross on the front. She was very busty, blond, and had a perfect smile. “Hay, JR,” she whispered. “Come on in.” JR waved a hand indicating Kristen should enter the room first. Kristen smiled at the young woman holding the door open, thinking that maybe the young woman was JR’s younger sister. She saw another blond young woman, in blue shorts and a white bikini top, straddling a prone man on the bed, with his face buried between two pillows. Kristen suddenly felt very awkward. Kristen’s smile tightened as she stepped into the room, and she could clearly see that the woman on the bed was rubbing oil on the man’s back. The room smelled of scented candles and massage oil. Kristen wasn’t easily fooled, although they might be in the hills, she doubted even the most backward hillbillies invited strangers into a room if they were carrying on like this. Her discomfort intensified slightly as she felt very much like an intruder. These couldn’t be JR’s sisters, she quickly guessed. The woman on the bed looked over her shoulder and smiled at JR and Kristen, in turn. “Hay, JR,” she said in an excited tone, while waving an oily palm. Twisting to wave over her shoulder accentuated her extravagantly voluptuous figure. Kristen was feeling like a troll again. Kristen immediately looked back at the young lady that answered the door, and realized the two must be twins. The man pulled his head slowly up, apparently with some effort, from between the pillows and looked over his shoulder. Kristen was caught completely off guard. Jimmy waved at both JR and Kristen. “Hay, Pops,” JR said in an enthusiastic greeting. “Jimmy!?” Kristen was confused. “What in the hell is going on here!?” Jimmy dropped his face back into the pillows, with resignation. JR did all the talking as Jimmy’s neck had suffered some significant trauma to include stress to his vocal chords. He poured more bourbon into Jimmy’s glass and handed it to him. JR sat on the side of the bed and examined Jimmy’s neck, as he spoke. Jimmy silently participated in the examination by moving his head with JR’s guiding hands. “We are investigators. Sometimes we discover things, like Vampires.” JR stopped his examination of Jimmy’s injuries to smile at Kristen. “Vampires are dead, but they need a little extra encouragement to stay that way. One of the services we provide is offering that encouragement.” JR turned his attention back to Jimmy. “It ‘s not something we can advertise but it does require a large support network of friends and professionals. Most of the people here tonight have lost friends or family to Vampires. Some are affiliated with Christian organizations that support our… Crusade.” Jimmy’s struggle with Anthony’s fingers had resulted in well-defined marks on his neck and throat. Kristen was listening but her body language, crossed arms and a rigid glare, indicated that she was not warming to the story or the present company. Kristen had an epiphany. “So that’s how a gay man earns the trust of Police Chiefs and Clergymen.” She was proud of her deduction and her smile indicated as much. JR and Jimmy exchanged glances, and they both smiled. Kristen felt really foolish when the twins giggled. Ruby and Sapphire, the twins, got up to leave. “We’ll be right back,” Ruby said, “just getting some food and ice. Leave the door open,” she added sternly. Kristen, JR, and Jimmy followed the women’s exit with their eyes. Amazingly sprite and nimble figures, the twins affected everyone they met. They had the affect of leaving one’s heart yearning for something. Kristen felt frumpy in comparison. “Have you ever met an interrogator,” JR asked pulling Kristen’s attention back to the room? “They spend days getting into character, they can be real A-holes. If Pops was queer, he would have been getting a rubdown from Randy and Steve, not Ruby and Sapphire. But if you’re gay, and at a museum, people tend to politely let you have your space.” Kristen searched JR’s face for telltale sings of deception, but he rarely wore anything but a smirk. Kristen seethed, and carried her glare from JR to Jimmy. Jimmy wiggled his eyebrows in response. “So, the twins are more than just friends?” Kristen felt betrayed and exploited now. “Aren’t they awesome,” JR asked with bubbling enthusiasm? Kristen raised her brows questioningly, and Jimmy poked him in the back with an elbow. JR tried to curb his enthusiasm, “well, they provide health care. And…we don’t have insurance… and they’re medical students.” His face wore the expression of a boy sharing an amazing discovery. Kristen shook her head and smiled. “Yeah. Would it have been too much trouble for someone to have been honest and let me know what I was getting into,” she asked the two of them? JR looked at Jimmy and then Kristen. “No way, Lady, you’re bait.” Jimmy saw the agitation flare in Kristen’s eyes, and he poked JR in the ribs again. “Will you relax?” JR was looking at Kristen but said it loud enough to communicate his discomfort to Jimmy. “We’ve read reports that some Vamps can hear the internal dialog of the people around them. If they can read minds, it is easier to detect a trap.” JR gave Kristen a mock expression of bewilderment and added, “besides, would any of this have sounded credible?” “You used me, risked my life, and lied to me about… everything!” Kristen moved to the door, then turned. “Not that it matters, but you don’t even look old enough to be a father son team.” She turned and walked out of the room. Kristen was very hurt, confused, and angry with Jimmy. If he had told her he was pretending to be gay, it would have indicated she was trusted. If someone had mentioned the fact that they suspected a vampire, well, she would not have been so cavalier. Kristen thought of Stephan and the link they had shared. How he touched a spot in her soul, and how they had exchanged wordless ideas. And how an attack on him, felt like an attack on her. Thinking more about how it could have ended, Kristen knew how terrified she would have been had she made the slightest connection between Stephan and the wolf-like creature of her dream. Kristen knew she would not have had anything to do with any of it. They had all lied to her, used her as bait in a game of life and death, and to make things worse, now she was more attracted to Jimmy. But what chance did she have against twins? Especially those twins? Kristen stewed in her anger as she walked in silence. Down the hall she stopped at a utility closet where JR reached around her and pulled out two blankets and two pillows. Stepping out of the lodge they passed the twins, who were on their way back in. “Keep a good watch, Ladies,” JR said as they passed. “Good night, JR,” they said in unison. Then to Kristen he said, “If he shows signs of changing, they will drive a steak into his heart and cut off his head.” Kristen immediately thought, “now that’s a job I would like.” JR added with a smirk and a nod, “and if we need it, there’s no shortage of help.” This did not sit well with Kristen but she didn’t say anything. She was in denial. Her mind was still trying to wrestle with everything that had happened in the past few hours. It was quite enough shock to have a mind-link with someone seconds before they were decapitated. She tried to stay focused on the big picture, but with each new piece of the puzzle, she felt like the butt of some sick joke. It was just too much and she was trying to keep it together. Holding onto her anger did not quite offer tangible balance, but it would have to do for now. They settled down by the fire and listened to the guitars and soft singing. There were some children still up and about, some wondering around in groups, others being held by adults. There were many young couples, but most of the people here were parents or older couples: bikers, farmers, and town folks. Some were probably very affluent, while some were possibly financially destitute. In this setting, what struck her as beautiful was the fact that there were no frowns. The women were all beautiful, not because of any particular physical attribute, but because they looked happy. They were the center of someone’s world. Kristen became acutely aware of how lonely she was. Looking at the men, she thought they were beautiful as well. Some handsome, some not, but most were either holding a woman or child. They too, looked content. JR poured more wine in her cup. They were on the same blanket, facing each other, lying on their sides. “Are you okay,” he asked? “Yeah, how about you?” “I feel just fine, thank you.” JR’s cheeks were rosy from drinking. Kristen realized her anger had ebbed. “Well,” JR said, “we’re going to sack out right here. If you need anything, wake me.” With a twinkle in his eye and that smirk on his lips, he added, “if I start humping your leg in my sleep, try not to wake me.” Kristen smiled at JR and felt very comfortable. “Thank you, JR, for everything.” She gestured her surroundings, “for bringing me here, for making me feel comfortable, for…” She started to tear up thinking about the beast, the last few hours, and the emotional roller coaster she had been on in the last week. He put his hand on her shoulder, “You know, it may not seem like it, but this has been a really tough night. Just the amount of adrenaline we had coursing through our bodies is enough to screw up our biorhythm for a month. Emotionally, we’ll need the entire weekend to wind down. And that’s just me. I know about your recent loss, and I’m sorry. I know you’ve got questions, and unresolved grief. You’re safe here. Get some rest. Besides, you don’t have to snuggle with me, I was half kidding.” Kristen hugged JR to thank him, but he was so accepting of her and he returned her hug so robustly, she never withdrew. Kristen closed her eyes and silently sobbed herself to sleep. She rested fitfully. In her dream, all the people around them watched. They were ready to pounce. She saw knives, wooden stakes, baseball bats, and sharp sticks. Their eyes never blinked. “I am utterly alone,” she thought. The following morning, JR drove Kristen home and briefly answered her questions. Jimmy was only 10 years JR’s senior, because Jimmy and his wife had adopted JR when he was twelve years old. It was a rough first two years, then when things were looking up, Connie, his step mom, left. “I’m sorry,” Kristen said. “That must have been tough for you.” “Well,” JR said with a far away gaze, “it would have been much worse if she stayed.” Reluctant to say anything bad about Connie, JR felt he should not have added that last snippet of opinion. “Oh,” she winced in sympathy, “did they fight a lot?” “Well, things were tense. She worked a lot and they didn’t sleep together. Let’s just say that’s when Pop’s should have started drinking...” JR smiled to himself but became instantly distant. “Does Jimmy drink a lot?” “He’s the most responsible, wise, and kind person I know. But he can be rude, lawless, and quite the scrapper.” JR smiled, “he was never like that when I was a kid, but when I went off to college, he just opened up.” “So, he drinks a lot.” “Well, he can hold his own.” JR did not say anything else about the issue. Kristen did not know if it was a joke or not. JR seemed to be lost in thought. Kristen had been through a great deal of stress and her life was definitely never going to be the same. Her dreams, the loss of her sister, her insight into the secret lives of some of the people of her home town, and the fact that monsters were not make believe, collectively conspired as if to illustrate some edifying lesson. She just wasn’t sure what it was. They traveled familiar roads, but Kristen felt strangely out of place. Spiritually, she was at a crossroad. At a loss for the comfort the lies provided, she could never go back to the things she believed. “Be strong,” she thought. “Be strong.” JR glanced at Kristen and knew he should keep her talking. She seemed very distant. “Kristen?” Kristen watched the land roll by for a few moments, before she answered. “Yes.” “I think you should know,” JR began deliberately careful with his words, “that things didn’t go as planned last night.” “Really?” Kristen was amused and curious about the boys having a plan at all. “The plan was to draw out someone, or something, and see where it lead. But Pops freaked out and pulled a John Wayne. I don’t really understand what happened but I do know that we’ve been through a lot, and you most of all.” JR wanted to convey something along the lines of compassion, but he was still strung out from the previous evening as well. “Well, JR, I guess it’s my fault for allowing myself to get caught up in this thing.” Kristen smiled the polite smile she habitually gave anyone in passing. Deep down, she knew she was responsible for anything that happened to her. “Kristen, we, Pops and me, are both sorry that things went badly. I know you’re still suffering the loss of a loved one, and I can’t imagine how you feel, but it is important for you to understand that these recent events were very traumatic. It would be natural for you to experience a kind of spiritual unbalance. You’re strong enough to cope, and you’re definitely not helpless. You’ll get through this okay, and be stronger for it.” Kristen gazed at JR and wondered how he could have so much confidence in her, when she hardly knew who she was, and what was going on anymore. “You have school to keep your mind occupied,” JR felt limited in his ability to help and floundered for words. “And, well, I want you to know you can call me any time, and I would like to keep in touch.” Kristen smiled a vacant smile. JR took her hand and squeezed it. “You helped us rid the world of a grave danger. This is something we do out of compassion. Pop’s and me, we’ve never been victimized by Vamps. It’s just something he stumbled onto, and he trusted me enough to help. We just do it, because we can. I know what it’s like to find out.” JR almost added that he didn’t have the perspective of someone that had been used as bait, but he thought better of it. “It’s okay to be confused about your life right now, but it’s our ability to be sympathetic to the distress of others that marks our humanity. Being strong for others will help you get through this.” He squeezed her hand and added, “be strong.” “So, you want me to be strong, for you and Jimmy?” Kristen was having trouble understanding what JR was trying to say. “No,” JR was at a loss for expressing anything tender. “When I found out, I felt betrayed. I turned away from Pops.” JR remembered the feeling well. “Then, I started helping out at the church. I volunteered my time, and I found strength in reaching out to people. I guess when I was exposed to people that needed a hand, I realized that my selfishness was my problem. People looked to me for help, and I realized that Pops had done the same.” JR shrugged and added, “I got over it.” Kristen smiled and asked, “how long did it take you to come to terms with this… new reality?” JR knew she wanted to know how long she would be off balance, so he lied. “About six months.” |
| In a time-zone seven hours away, Alfons opened his eyes to darkness. Anthony is no more, he thought. Alfons knew that another of his favorites had fallen victim to Jimmy. Although another Vampire had just met destruction, Anthony was his direct liaison to both Anna and the art exchange program. The frustration of his loss was compounded by several images competing for attention; He could picture the head rolling off Anthony’s shoulders, Anna operating with complete anonymity, and his waning grip of events overseas. He felt a slight wave of power wash over his body, and wandered what new or enhanced gift would temper his intolerance of the current situation. He must be strong to maintain control, but power was the ultimate temptation. Power was the seductress he had no intent of denying. So, he thought, it is not just my siblings that pass their power to me. The sensation was wonderful, and that made his cruel existence sweeter. He must have more. Suddenly this Jimmy Crusader was not the enemy Alfons had originally envisioned. Alfons closed his eyes and smiled. He rested peacefully in his coffin, until he dreamed of his sister. Anna was frequently on his mind. Forbidden to him, when he had a soul, she was now the hand that steadied his recklessness. She was very important, for now. Times change, he mused. At first, the change was slow to take hold. Sick for days and under Anna’s care he finally succumbed to the need for blood. Just the little he drew from her instantly gave him strength. He prowled at night, but always came home to Anna. The first year as a Vampire, he wallowed in self-pity. He felt abandoned by God. He hated God. He blamed all that was holy for his painful existence. He studied the cruelty of Dracula and others in his lineage. He explored every dark art. His selfishness, reinforced by the loss of his soul, drove him to corrupt anything and anyone he could manipulate. His sister represented the dichotomy of his being. She was his pure and innocent twin; he was an abomination to life. She was everything he could not be, and he resented it. Forcing himself upon Anna had turned her. She was his first child of darkness, and would be for many years. His selfish sin destroyed forever her fate. He reviled himself for taking her very life, yet he sinned against her repeatedly. Moreover, like the innocent fool he thought Anna to be, she forgave his weakness, again and again. They hunted together, and played the games of young lovers. A brief respite to his hatred. The games wore on them and as they met other Vampires, their grasp of the curse began to unfold. At first they reveled in the assumption that they were like gods, but the tedium of time wore on them both. Where was the pleasure in that once in a lifetime experience? What now was precious? What separated them from even the most noble animals? They were more than human, and less than humane. Where was felicity except in their ability to spread cruelty? Anna’s forgiveness was a mockery of the hatred Alfons harbored. He had murdered thousands over the years; many for food, many for pleasure. None had the special appeal of his twin. Alfons dreamt torrid acts of hostility, betrayal, and rape against the only creature that could truly love him. |
| Kristen woke to the shock of cold water on her face. Shaking her head and choking, she held up a hand trying to stop the deluge. Finally she sat half way up and looked at the man before her. She did not recognize him, and did not consider him friendly. “What’s seven times thirteen?” JR had an urgent look about him, half smiling. Before Kristen could answer, or ask for an explanation, JR started splashing more water out of the fountain pool. Not only was he drowning her, the front of her dress was completely soaked and the evening air was quite chilly. Kristen put up her hands to ward off the water. She sputtered through water and the urge to choke the life from her assailant, “Stop it!” JR looked comical with his eyes wide and brows lifted anticipating clarification. “Are you sure?” Looking at the pool he nodded, “there’s plenty of water.” “Stop it!” She looked around but saw only JR. Placing a hand to her face, she started to shiver. “Why are you doing this? What’s going on?” Kristen surveyed the scene around her. “Where is Jimmy, where is…?” She left the question unasked. It started coming back to her. She remembered the fight, Anthony changing into a monster, JR swinging a sword like a baseball bat, and then… Well then her mind decided it was time to check out. Kristen turned her head to the side and purged her stomach in a plume of projectile vomit that amazed even JR. “Wow, you uppity folks really know how to party.” JR’s enthusiasm was sportive. Kristen, on her hands and knees, soaking wet and shivering with cold, could only imagine how much her mascara was running. Thinking of an up side to her situation, she thought her only shred of dignity was the fact that she had not thrown up on her friends for the second time in one week. Now, she had to deal with this smart-ass. She was intently concentrating on breathing and shivering, and spitting remnants of bile from her mouth, when fatigue embraced her body. Closing her eyes, she exhaled heavily. JR squatted down beside her, and threw his vest over her back and shoulders. Thankful for the something warm, she pulled it close about her. JR put an arm around her and briskly massaged her arms. “I can’t decide if you’re having a really good night, or a really shitty one.” With a mischievous grin to himself, JR ran a finger through the pool of puke. “Hay, lady, what’s this?” he indicated the pool of partially digested food with a finger dripping vomit. Kristen shook off the light headed feeling and looked at what JR was pointing at. She closed her eyes, and turned a beaming smile to JR. He shook her. She opened her eyes. “Time’s up. It’s a snowman.” He rubbed out the drawing and dragged his finger through the pool of puke again. “How ‘bout this one?” Kristen watched, with disaffected disgust as JR placed two particles of her stomach’s former inhabitants in precise locations. Kristen was choking down the bile still in her throat. Then she resigned herself to the fact that this man was trying to be friendly and helpful, in his own distorted way. Somehow she felt much better about getting sick. When someone uses your body fluids for entertainment, the act conveys a deep sense of acceptance, and Kristen was still vulnerable to rejection at any level. She fixed her gaze upon his finger, dripping with puke and was at a loss for words. “It’s a smiley face, and you suck at this game!” JR put an enthusiastic emphasis on the word ‘suck’ to convey Kristen’s total lack of participation and apparent lack of skill. Kristen covered her mouth and laughed, even as she hung her weary head in resignation. “Let’s play, drown the pretty girl again.” JR still held her arm and began playfully pulling her toward the fountain pool. He dropped his messy hand in the water and rinsed it at the surface, splashing the water loudly to get a rise out of Kristen. “Back off, Mister!” Kristen growled suddenly alert. The words hissed through blue lips and running mascara accented the threat in her eyes. Satisfied that she would make it, JR stood up and offered Kristen his hand. “Come on, lady. I told Jimmy I’d get you out of here.” She looked at him suspiciously, then nodded her approval. Kristen’s head was resting between the passenger door and the seat. She had a blanket pulled tight around her but needed the wind in her face. The sharp images in her mind were making the connections for an entire picture. She was relieved when JR pulled up to a convenience store. He played the radio too loud, was talking over it, and rambling on, and on. He was still on an adrenaline high. Her mind reeled from the implication of what she had seen and heard. Remembering her dream about the Vampire, she was sure JR was with the young lady in the woods. Moreover, she was certain that Jimmy was the camouflaged hunter. The thought made her want to throw up again. For the tenth time since she had regained consciousness, she checked her neck and shoulders for wounds from what she now surmised to be a crossbow bolt. There were none, but that was of only personal comfort. She had been drawn into something she did not understand. Kristen thought her precognitive knowledge gave her the upper hand. She knew the only way to regain control of her personal destiny, would be to press forward keeping them off guard. JR walked out of the store with three bags of ice. He dumped them into a cooler in the back seat, which also held a twelve pack of beer. He fished out a can and opened the beer. Kristen looked at the beer, then at JR, then at the beer again. Her eyes were wide and arching brows communicated the question. “Want one?” JR proffered the beer he just opened. “You’re not going to drink and drive, are you?” Kristen had a ‘You’ve got to be kidding me’ expression she used to hide her real emotions. “Well,” JR put the car in gear and backed out of the parking space, “normally I just sip and steer, but tonight is special.” Kristen reached back and pulled out a beer for herself. Looking back she saw the Ice. “Ice works better when you dump it around the beer.” “Man! You sure are smart. But this ice isn’t for the beer, it’s for Pops. And that’s a funny story. Pops threw out all the Ice-trays when mom left. He says when he needs ice, he’ll just pick up a bag. I think that’s his philosophy on dating also.” He nodded to authenticate he really believed it. “So your dad is out of ice, is that what you’re doing the rest of the night, sitting around with your dad?” Kristen didn’t feel much like going home just now. “Well, it’s morning, and after I drop you off, I’ll probably go for a swim, eat something, and then just hang out with Pops and some friends.” He tried to make it sound boring. “Can I come along?” She tried not to sound too pathetic. “Are you kidding me? You’re one of those straight-laced, right wing, born again, fundamentalist, young republicans aren’t you? I mean, wouldn’t you rather go home and plot your course to the next rung on the corporate ladder?” He glanced at her and picked up on her glare. “Oh no, you did not,” Kristen was playfully outraged. “Well, all I meant is that I’m not doing anything sophisticated. I don’t think you’d enjoy the party.” “Ah hah! You’re going to a party and you think I’m too uptight to enjoy it,” she accused. Then she added, “screw you, buddy.” JR looked at her and she was pretending to ignore him. He smiled and leaned over to her side. “Okay, look, I’m sorry too.” Squaring off to JR, Kristen braced herself. “I did not offer an apology for my behavior.” JR shrugged, “it’s okay. I know it’s hard to admit mistakes. I just want you to know, that if you were to apologize, I would graciously accept.” “Well thank you, JR. That is very big of you. I should have been a little more understanding of your feelings. Please forgive my insensitive behavior. It must be so trying to lure some unsuspecting college student, me, into some twisted nightmare. I should have realized how tough it is for a redneck freak like you to decapitate a vampire, drown the poor girl you unsuspectingly used as bait, and further place at risk by drinking and driving, all in the same night! I think if I felt like apologizing, I could have mustered the energy, however, I think I’m the one who’s been wronged here and I would much prefer an explanation to some contrived apology!” “Well thank you, Kristen, that’s very considerate of you. I accept your apology.” JR made a big show of smiling. She punched his shoulder. "The way I see it, you owe me an explanation, and a meal. Besides, I would like to unwind someplace where I don’t have any social obligations.” She emphasized her point with a long pull of her beer. “Well, okay, but with that attitude you probably won’t score tonight” JR finished his beer as well. Kristen rolled her eyes and shook her head. |
| Kristen accepted the proffered glass of sparkling wine and slowly moved about the room. She was wearing the dress Ida James had loaned her for the occasion. It fit well enough and also displayed the beautiful turquoise necklace Ida had given her to wear. The dress displayed a bit more of her figure than she felt comfortable showing off. After arriving and mentally comparing herself to the other women, she felt quite elegant and sexy. She walked around and greeted those few people she recognized and was introduced to a few people she did not know. She introduced Jimmy as her friend and soon they were left alone to enjoy the artwork on display. Jimmy quietly directed her interest to some of the artwork that was part of the exchange program. Kristen was impressed with his knowledge. They came to a piece that Jimmy just stared at for a while. Kristen read the plaque, ‘Vlad Tepes also known as Vlad the Impaler.’ Kristen thought it curious that a man could have such a powerful legend associated with his life. There were of course battle scenes as well. Kristen moved on, and saw many scenes of dark fiction. An entire area had been dedicated to superstitions. When asked, Jimmy went on to explain the influence of the area. Hungary, Romania, Turkey, and many neighboring countries had been the focus of many invading armies. The trade routes had a great deal to do with the area's upheavals. Soldiers settling into an area tend to enrich culture. “Well,” Kristen asked, “just how does an Army of Occupation enrich an area’s culture?” She thought Jimmy had a good point, but she pretended not to understand. “Not necessarily an occupying force. Just people from abroad, many of the best traveled people are soldiers.” Jimmy knew Kristen was well aware of this. “Okay, how do they enrich the town, or culture?” She was looking at a painting of a beast with distinctly female human features. “Well,” Jimmy started, “do you know any Eskimo words?” Jimmy continued examining the paintings and slowly moved on to the next one. “I think ‘Mush’ is an Eskimo word.” Kristen could not be quite sure. “It is the only one I can think of right now,” Jimmy offered. “I learned that in elementary school. Education expands our horizons.” “And your point?” Kristen asked, knowing that he had one. “Okay, let’s say five hundred years ago, you are a small girl and you live in a small village, in Romania. Your life consists primarily of tending to animals and assisting with your parents’ trade, be it farming, ranching, weaving cloth, or whatever. Your family is poor and depends on good fortune to live well. Every two years or so your town and family is taxed above the normal when a military unit passes through. People get brutalized, the soldiers take what they want, and if you’re family is lucky, all they loose is property. You’re a girl, and as such no investment is made in you, like sending you to school. Shortly after your first menstrual period, you will be married off. They want to avoid the problems associated with an unwed daughter that becomes a mother. You make a home for your husband as you have learned, watching and listening to the women in your family. You teach your children everything you know, because knowledge is a tool. The town depends on each inhabitant to contribute to common tasks and problems.” Jimmy looked to ensure Kristen was following his words. She was. “So let’s say, you’re a particularly ugly little girl, and...” “Oh, I like that,” Kristen shot in a quick retort with mockingly narrowed eyes. “And,” Jimmy continued undaunted, “the only husband your father could find for you is the one armed old man from Nepal who used to be a cook in the service of the Turkish Army. No one talks to him because he is a dirty foreigner, but your family loves you and their grand children, and they extend their affection for you to your husband. Now since he has been befriended, he can share his knowledge with the town folk through your family and your children. Thus enriching the culture of that town, even if it is only a new way to serve roasted goat.” Jimmy especially liked the ugly little girl aspect of the lesson. It was in character with his facade. “And the superstitions as well,” Kristen said as if contributing to the lesson. “Oh, yes,” Jimmy agreed. “And, let us not overlook the influence of the church.” “Hay,” Kristen said to change the subject. “Let’s get a drink and check out the young artist.” “Okay.” Jimmy said sassily. He was sure he would see this exhibit again. Kristen and Jimmy saw the Police Chief and his wife hemmed in by two artsy types. Jimmy suggested she rescue the Chief. Sam’s cheeks and nose were rosy from drink, no doubt; Leigh was on one arm, and the curator on the other. He had the look of a man ready to give in. “Ah, Kristen, we were just admiring this piece. I would very much like to hear your thoughts.” The Chief sounded almost prideful, but his glance to Kristen let her know he was thankful to put the pressure on her. The small group awaited her opinion with uplifted brows. She had their full attention. She milked the moment for it’s dramatic value as she assessed the painting. She moved in closer to look at the brush marks on the canvas. Then she stepped back into the group to gain their perspective. “I like it.” The group moved perceptibly closer to hear. “The initial impression is trite, but a closer look reveals worlds of emotional confusion. Well, of course, I haven’t had much to drink,” her brows furrowed a bit, “but I would say it’s kind of crowded with halting indecisiveness.” The group slightly moved away from her. She put a discriminating finger to her lips. “I get the distinct impression that the artist is young, trying to convey something repressed from childhood. The strokes are a severe imitation of style, which convey a juvenile but not quite adolescent, angst. I mean there is a clear lack of theme, either in color, depth, or subject. It looks like an oil work that almost wants to be a finger painted watercolor. It's an excellent example of free form, you know, the lack of depth keeps it 2 dimensional. The texture is very smooth until you see the brush strokes, and that offers some variety. No confining lines directing attention to or away from any focal point. The big cell phone seems to suggest that proportion and balance are not issues.” The Chief cocked his head as if seeing it anew. Kristen continued, “I could forgive all that, but where else would this piece look at home except with the rest of these.” She made a sweeping motion with her hand to indicate the other canvasses on the wall. “I mean where would one put this and what does it communicate?” Finally, she looked at the Chief and those around her. The chief was looking at it with a much less friendly eye. The Curator politely looked at Kristen as if she was something a dog had just left on the carpet. The Artist would have smote her in her tracks if looks could kill. His face was beet red and the veins stood up on his forehead. “It is a nice piece to support the rest of the collection.” She offered that to the Curator. Then to Sam, “He used quality canvas. I’m sure it would speak to me if I had more to drink and perhaps some pain medication. Right now I can’t help thinking Food Court, at a mall.” Kristen continued to study the painting and pretended not to notice she was alone. The Chief was shaking his head while quietly giving his opinion to Leigh, as they sought some privacy. The Curator was coddling the artist and nodding her head, assuring him that Kristen was no art aficionado and he would make sales. Jimmy had been busy making his rounds chatting with ladies here and there. Being a social butterfly had its’ advantages. You had nothing of interest to say but being friendly was very easy. Jimmy went to the bar where a young man was serving drinks. “Hi, quite the little get together, aye? What can I get you?” He wore a nametag that read JR. “Ginger Ale in a champagne glass, please, JR.” Jimmy made it sound sassy. “Coming’ right up, sweetie.” The bartender tried unsuccessfully to hide his mocking smile. He handed the glass to Jimmy, “there you go, honey, straight… ginger ale.” JR gave Jimmy a nod and a wink, with a big smile. “Thank you, handsome.” Jimmy picked an imaginary piece of lint from JR’s vest. “What’s the strangest request you’ve had tonight?” “Well, Princess, this yahoo in a blue velvet bow tie asked for absinthe, if that’s what you mean. And he must be a loyal fan because he hasn’t had anything to drink in the last four hours.” Jimmy glanced at is watch, 11:15 p.m. Kristen was trying not to look too bored, when she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She had wondered to a window and was looking out to a fountain in the courtyard. “It is a lovely evening.” She jumped a little because she thought she was alone. The voice was soothing, masculine, and almost in her head. She turned to find a man most pleasing to the eye, standing beside her. The tension slipped away, taking with it all thoughts troubling. “Yes, a beautiful night.” “I‘ve startled you, please, forgive me.” He bowed his head but not enough to break eye contact. Kristen felt lightheaded as she swirled into his light blue eyes. Her heart began to race. This was the most handsome man she had ever seen. He was gentle and she felt very comfortable with this him. She wanted nothing more than to be in his arms. “I’m Kristen,” she held out her hand. “Have we met? Ever? I grew up in northern Virginia, but I’ve been away for a while.” She hoped the answer was yes. She forgot about the world and only wanted to be part of this man. “I’m Anthony,” he took her hand and shook it. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Kristen. We’ve never met, though I must confess, you make me wish we had.” “I’m pleased to meet you, Anthony,” still holding his hand she reluctantly released it. “I wasn’t trying to be forward, you seem very familiar to me. I can’t place where we may have met.” “I don’t think I could forget meeting a woman as lovely as you.” They smiled at each other. Anthony held out his arm, “I was just going to step out for a breath of fresh air, won’t you join me?” “Thank you, that sounds nice.” Kristen gladly placed her arm in his; it eased the swirling in her head. She felt as if she were in a dream, safe and secure with Mr. Right. Everything was okay. They strolled out to the fountain, and then further to the atrium. Kristen felt beautiful, safe, and in love. He said all the right things, she was in control, and he was handsome. Maybe, she thought, the night held promise. They came to a bench in the darkest corner of the courtyard, and Anthony gently put his arm around Kristen. She felt very warm inside, and numb to the cool night air. “You poor thing,” Anthony held her close, “you must be chilled.” Anthony pulled off his coat and pulled it over Kristen’s shoulders. He looked into her eyes and she into his. With her head tilted back to look into his eyes, Anthony could see the pulsing veins under the skin of her neck. He could hear the pounding of her heart. He could feel his own excitement mount. Anthony had planned to offer an explanation to Kristen that the turquoise of her necklace was believed to offer protection from many evils and induce a sense of harmony and well being in the wearer. It was just a curious indulgence of cruelty that he allowed himself but he hugged her close until the blood lust could pass instead. It was too late. Kristen was lost in the comfort in his arms. She did not see the color of his eyes change from blue to murderous red. Jimmy stepped out of the shadows and Anthony felt his presence. Anthony looked at the intruder through red murderous eyes. He pushed Kristen down onto the bench and in two very long strides was upon Jimmy. “Nice tie,” said Jimmy. Anthony shot an arm out and grabbed Jimmy’s throat and squeezed. Anthony saw Jimmy’s eyes bulge. He laughed as he lifted Jimmy off his feet. The additional body weight on his throat, cut off any aspirations Jimmy had for gulping large quantities of air. Jimmy grabbed the arm with both hands and tried to relieve the pressure on his windpipe, but it did no good. Desperately, Jimmy kicked until, by luck, he landed a solid kick into Anthony’s crotch. Anthony doubled over but did not release Jimmy. When Jimmy’s feet hit the ground he had leverage enough to reach back and pull a wooden steak from somewhere under his coat. He stabbed Anthony in the chest, but it was clumsy, at best. Anthony threw Jimmy to the ground and casually pulled the wooden steak out of his chest. Jimmy hit the ground in an exhilarating spasm of painful gasping, choking, and coughing. Half hoping that once breathing was not his most immediate crisis, Jimmy planned to crawl back to the column he had originally hid behind, and recover a handy weapon or two. Had Jimmy been thinking clearly, however, he would have recognized the pattern of his good fortune; usually things went from not so good, to very bad in the blink of an eye, and then, apparently just for spite, they turned to desperately hopeless. The damaged windpipe, fading consciousness and a horribly angry vampire did constitute very bad but desperately hopeless had yet to rear its ugly head. Just in case Jimmy’s good fortune was paying attention, Jimmy considered it very fortunate that he had been thrown to the ground. Anthony’s entire demeanor matched his body’s physical mutation. He grew revolting and grotesque. Fangs grew so slowly it made Kristen question what she was seeing. Anthony began breathing, very deliberate and very menacingly. His head and face appeared to writhe as the skin and skeletal changes became rapidly pronounced. He became a wolf-like beast. Kristen saw these changes and slowly broke free of Anthony’s spell. As her head cleared, Kristen became aware of the chilly night air. The events unfolding before her struck a chord in her soul, with horrifying clarity. The subsequent jolt of adrenaline kept her frozen in place. She recalled her werewolf dream and suddenly knew Jimmy was the camouflaged killer in that dream. She now understood why he was familiar. Maybe, she thought, the dream was a premonitory dream of the events unfolding before her. “Do you think you can hurt me, little man?” Anthony slurred the question through a mouth full of growing teeth. The noise came out as a garbled growl, but it conveyed a terrible intelligence. He leaped through the air with a growl, landed on Jimmy, and then stopped short his onslaught. Dropping onto his haunches, and subsequently onto Jimmy’s torso, Anthony gazed at his terrified victim. Jimmy fought to regain the air that had just been knocked out of him. It had been a real struggle to gasp that much air into his lungs through a nearly collapsed trachea. He absently wondered if he got the air, would be able to think of something really clever to improve his situation. Dying well never entered his mind. He gave a valiant effort to breathe with this over sized beast on his torso and he tried not to loose his bowels. Now, by the way, Jimmy was sure things had progressed, rather nicely and without too much delay, to desperately hopeless. Anthony’s body jerked upright. The silence preceding the upright jerk of his body allowed Jimmy to hear the flying bolt. He did not know it was the second wooden bolt to hit the beast’s back. Anthony looked down. A small dark bloodstain on the front of his shirt explained why his power was slipping away. Anthony took a couple of rasping breaths before he shrank back to human form. Briefly, he again appeared handsome. Jimmy caught a glimpse of shadow behind the man sitting on his torso. Then he saw a flashing blur of movement before the man’s head rolled off to one side. The body collapsed onto Jimmy. An interesting observation about heads that roll off their inherent torso, is that there is usually an extraordinary amount of body fluid associated with such activity. By the time Jimmy rolled out from under the quickly rotting corpse, he was now trying to balance breathing, throwing up, gagging, and spitting an overly profuse amount of blood from his mouth. Had he been less distracted, Jimmy would have been equally concerned about the blood that had sprayed into his eyes. As fate would have it, good fortune had the keen habit of smiling upon Jimmy, and the blood quickly turned to dust. While this actually complicated Jimmy’s convulsive little dance, which was driven by a spasmodic rhythm of choking, gagging, gasping, spitting, and now crying, it was a positive indication that ingesting vampire blood was no longer an issue, at the moment. JR gave his sword a quick snap, the blood that had been on the blade, and that had turned to dust, fell away neatly. JR then dragged Jimmy to the fountain and forcefully pushed Jimmy’s head under water. Opening and blinking his eyes in the ice-cold water, Jimmy’s life came back into focus and his immediate priorities became elementally clear. Violently pulling his head free of JR’s hand and out of the water, Jimmy spat what water he had inadvertently retained in his mouth. No longer blinded but still in desperate need to regulate his breathing, Jimmy forced himself to calm down. He saw JR examining the blade of the sword in his hands, sporting a cocky smile. Jimmy looked about for Kristen. She lay huddled in a motionless heap on the courtyard floor. He started to crawl toward her. “Relax, she just passed out,” JR said. He knelt down to check on Jimmy’s injuries but Jimmy held up a hand to keep him at a distance. JR stood and stepped over to retrieve his small crossbow. Jimmy tried to talk but his throat would not permit it. He made a circular motion with his hand, indicating the courtyard, and pointed to the bartender. Jimmy put his hand to his throat and shook his head. “Yeah, I’ll clean up and take her home. You going to be okay?” JR was genuinely concerned and helped Jimmy to his feet. The men exchanged questioning glances. Jimmy shrugged and then nodded to indicate he was okay. |
| Kristen knocked on Jimmy’s hotel room door. The door opened and she watched Jimmy walk away in nothing but a pair of athletic shorts. “Just set it on the table, I’ll be right out,” Jimmy called over his shoulder. She watched Jimmy’s butt as he disappeared into an adjoining room. Kristen moved to a chair beside the table and had a seat. “That was fast, I wasn’t expecting you so soon.” Jimmy pulled a T-shirt over his head as he emerged from the room. Opening his wallet he pulled a couple of bills out. When he looked up, he stopped walking. After staring at Kristen for a moment, he cocked his head, smiled cheerfully, and threw a hand on his hip. “Kristen,” the name bounced enthusiastically off his tongue with sassy energy. Jimmy threw a hand to his chest and continued, “you scared me half to death. I thought it was room service.” Kristen sat with a dumb-founded expression of amazement. Sassy wasn’t all Jimmy had going on, she thought. She watched Jimmy almost prance through the room, going on about how he had ordered lunch for them and how she was almost an hour early. He moved over to the dining room table and picked up a stack of books and carried them to the coffee table. She watched with awe how positively light Jimmy moved. She laughed out loud at her absolute miss-read of Jimmy the previous evening. Jimmy ignored her giggle and placed two Champaign glasses on the table. Her head still was a little foggy from the night before and she was more than a little apprehensive when Jimmy opened two Champaign bottles. Finally he sat on the couch, crossed his legs in a most scandalously feminine manner, and patted the cusion next to his, “come have a seat, Sweetie.” Kristen continued to sit and stare in amazement. Jimmy is gay, she thought. Then she wondered about how he came to know and gain the confidence of the most conservative people she knew. “That’s a lovely blouse, sweetie, who makes that?” Jimmy raised his eyebrows in anticipation of her response. Kristen was leaning forward, looking at Jimmy, when she snapped out of it. “Oh, well, I don’t know,” she was suddenly aware of how seductively low cut the blouse had to be to display her bosom. Now she felt quite foolish. “It was a gift,” she said, as if that explained her ignorance of the designer. “Come over here, Sweetie, I promise I won’t bite.” Jimmy patted the cushion again. Kristen moved over to the couch and sat down. She looked around the place. She did not notice Jimmy steal a glance at her breasts. Jimmy’s eyes opened noticeably in amazement and he redirected his attention. Reaching for the book on top of the stack, he said, “Well, let’s get to it.” “This is really a nice place.” Kristen was looking about. “Much nicer than my hotel.” Kristen had slept most of the way to Norfolk. She had fully recovered from the night before, but Sam and his wife, Leigh, had given her such pampering that she took advantage of the situation and dosed. Having the entire back seat to her self, Kristen rested easily. She was well rested and alert. She had been so busy in the last couple of years that she hardly had time for a love life. Most of the men she had access to were young college students living for the moment, or lecherous cops. Meeting Jimmy had sparked hope deep inside her, and she wasn’t sure how to proceed. The full bosom trick got the attention of most men, and once you had them salivating, they would be eating out of your palm in no time. He was still a man and not to be trusted, but she sensed something special in him. He never patronized her the previous evening, and that seemed to set the tone for the entire meeting. She was being considered seriously, almost a peer to the other gentlemen. Kristen liked that special feeling, and she associated it with Jimmy. Now, however, Jimmy had just been something she wasn’t prepared for. “Don’t you just love it?” Jimmy lightly patted her leg. “I’ll give you a tour later, but for now, let’s hit the books.” Jimmy was explaining to Kristen the type of artwork she would be seeing that night. He jotted down a list of questions, and referenced other books as needed. At 1:00 o’clock their lunch arrived. It was large. They had Iced Tea with the meal and Sparkling wine afterward. Jimmy explained that they always had drinks and snacks at these functions, but only silly people went on an empty stomach. The show was designed to sell art. The patrons would be plied with food, drink, and compliments, then coerced into buying art, or suffer looking cheap and ignorant of artistic value. Kristen easily became comfortable with Jimmy, and oddly, still felt attracted to him. They chatted like old friends. He explained her purpose as bait and warned her about finding herself alone with anyone, male or female. The Chief would be there if she felt threatened at any point and she should find him early in the evening. They talked about her history: Her stint as an Army Nurse aspiring to be a Physicians Assistant. Her two-year relationship with a Doctor that ended very abruptly. Jimmy was very attentive as she told him about her true feelings about men and her biological time clock. Jimmy felt the sadness in her soul, and thought he could never hurt someone so good hearted. “Well, what did you expect from the relationship?” “Well, we were both educated, successful, and we had fun together. Then out of nowhere he said, when I got out of the Army, I should marry him and start raising our children. At twenty-five, I wasn’t ready to raise his family. I want to make a difference in the world, and it’s quite difficult to be taken seriously if you have to interrupt your professional life to wipe a runny nose and change a diaper.” Jimmy looked into her eyes, smiling slightly to ease her hostility. “Men can be so unreasonable,” he said touching her hand lightly. “Ain’t it the truth! He asked me for something I wasn’t ready to give. He didn’t want a partner, he wanted a trophy wife.” “And it ended just like that?” “No, he became distant. Every time we were together, we went to places where children gather. The romantic dinners ended. He pointed out children and how lovely they were. I told him, I wanted to be a mother one day, but not for about ten or more years. I wanted to live before I got tied down.” “We live with much more social freedom than our parents enjoyed.” Jimmy added to enjoy her passion. “That’s right, damn it!” Kristen squared off to face Jimmy. “Women have come a long way. If I’m going to be barefoot and pregnant, it will be when I’m damn well ready.” “Good for you,” Jimmy said encouraging her anger. “Yeah,” she became calm finding comfort in Jimmy’s support. “Then everything changed, overnight. He asked me to stop taking the pill, and then only had time for quickies. With-in one month, we were only seeing each other at work. Two months later I received his wedding invitation. He was to marry a twenty-one year old nurse.” “You’re kidding me,” Jimmy said in mock shock. “No, and she and I were neighbors. Not one of my friends gave me a heads-up. And she had everything I didn’t. Big boobs, that deer-in-the-headlights vacant stare, and very rich parents.” Kristen dropped back onto the couch, and looked at the ceiling, trying to hide her watering eyes. The grief was letting the anger ebb. “He was my best friend in the world, my soul mate. I thought we had lived a life of adventure. I had his back and he had mine. Then he traded me in for some plaything.” “Sounds like betrayal, to me,” Jimmy said seriously sympathetic. The tears flowed freely now, and Jimmy retrieved a box of tissues. He sat down lightly and pressed a tissue in Kristen's hand. She took it and tried to gather herself. Sitting up, she turned to Jimmy. “The worst part, I was going to go to his wedding. I was going to show him, I could be bigger than him, and wish them the best of luck. When I got dressed, I looked at myself in the mirror.” Her sobbing caught her breath regularly now making it difficult to talk, but she got through it. “I felt like a troll.” The tears and sobs rolled freely and Jimmy got up to fetch her a glass of sparkling wine. When she composed herself, Kristen was apologetic. Jimmy assured her that there was no reason to be sorry or feel ashamed. It was the first she had really talked about it and she felt silly that it had been a full two years and she still harbored such strong feelings. Kristen squared off to Jimmy again. “Please don’t tell anyone I came apart like this.” She wiped her eyes. “I’ve always been the strong, self confident, level headed…” Big Sister, she almost said. Looking into his eyes with mock sternness she said, "no one must know that Kryptonite is not my only weakness.” They laughed and Jimmy showed her to the bathroom to freshen up. When she came back, she went on about her educational aspirations. The last two years studying criminology had been the focus of her life and already she had no idea where she was going to find employment. Since medical terminology was the toughest aspect of anything she had studied, she was considering continued studies in forensic science. Jimmy hardly heard a word. Jimmy was very taken with Kristen. Women in general had an emotional acuity that he was hard pressed to match. He especially enjoyed educated women and the perspective they brought to life. Her strength was quite apparent. Her vulnerability also appealed to him. His reverie was interrupted with her question. “So, you’re a Private Investigator?” Since she had opened a window to her life, it was time to look into his. “Yes, it’s excruciatingly boring, but from time to time you hook into something that really amazes you.” Kristen captivated him but he came to his senses when warning bells started ringing in his head. She’s bait, he thought, she will hate you before long. “What’s the most fascinating case you’ve worked on?” Kristen thought she saw vulnerability in his eyes, and for some reason felt she may be a contributing factor. Jimmy leaned back and averted his eyes, searching for something to tell her. “Well, I don’t think I have a favorite. A quick discovery is always best; most clues just don’t pan out. I think the cases I like the most are for great pieces of art that disappear. Someone buy’s something priceless and takes it out of circulation for some reason or another. Sometimes you have to take everyone in the auction house to dinner before you get consistent clues.” He locked eyes with Kristen, “that can be very expensive.” “I’ll bet,” she watched him and could not help but feel that his professional life was very different from his personal life. She sympathized with the stress duality of lifestyles can bring. She had to keep up appearances in the Army. As an officer, Kristen had to be careful with whom she associated, an aspect of the military she definitely found reprehensible. To her, it was similar to her psychic dreams and everyone’s insistence that she keep it to herself. Jimmy continued, “oh yes, when you get on the trail of the buyer, you have to find out where the art went. That’s especially tough since the buyer is often working for a client. Try getting information about someone's client list sometime. Then once you discover who the new owner is, you have to find out all you can. You have to get all this information without anyone remembering that you were asking about it at all.” He was enthusiastic about the latter aspect of an investigation. “Why the secrecy? What does it matter once you find the art?” She thought it odd that secrecy would be needed. “Well, once you have a good source in the community you’re checking out, you don’t want them figuring out the part they played. If they feel exploited, they will resent it and alienate you to compensate for their blunder.” Jimmy could see in her eyes he had said too much. Suddenly on guard and feeling a bit foolish, she asked, “how will you be exploiting me, Jimmy?” She searched Jimmy’s face for a hint of deception. Jimmy patted her leg; “you relax, Sweetie. If we find a clue as to who the killer is, it will be because you drew so much attention to yourself, and away from me.” Then he got a twinkle in his eye and added, “besides, if you don’t do so good, I’ll announce that you’re carrying my child and have decided to stay single. That should draw a nice crowd.” Jimmy sipped his wine through her laughter. “I have arrangements to make tonight, so I won’t be joining you for dinner. Come over tomorrow for lunch and we’ll review.” Kristen didn’t want to leave but felt Jimmy was politely telling her to come again when he had time. Jimmy noticed her reluctance to leave but did not want to keep up the charade. She thanked him for lunch and accepted the lunch date for the following day. Jimmy wanted Kristen. She was a picture of health, adventurous, and passionately independent. He would never have to worry about leaving her to travel for work. He was ready for a woman in his life, and he did not need a plaything. He was sure she would hate him before their trip was over. Even if she did not, he had ethical considerations to uphold. In a different world, he thought, we could have been a great team. That evening Kristen had dinner with the Police chief and his wife, Dick and Ida James, and Mr. Robertson. They took their meal overlooking the Chesapeake Bay. Nearly everyone was showing signs of sunburn, which amused Kristen. Nothing says tourist like too much sun. They talked about her studies and her plans upon graduation. Very pleasant talk, then Ida dropped the bomb. “So, how do you like our Mr. James, Dear,” Ida asked Kristen. “We spent the afternoon together, and had lunch.” Kristen said between bites of her salad. “He’s easy to get along with.” “And easy on the eyes, isn’t he, Dear,” Ida asked? Kristen noticed everyone politely listening to her response. “Yes, he’s quite a handsome fellow.” A poorly hidden smile was mistaken by everyone at the table for blushing embarrassment. Kristen realized that no one knew Jimmy well enough to know he was a “Certified Bachelor.” “And single,” Ida quickly added. Kristen picked up her glass and sipped the wine slowly, while directing an absent gaze out the large window. “Mr. Robertson and Jimmy traveled up together in a large van,” Leigh said. “They’ll be leaving tomorrow night after the premier, if you’d prefer to ride with them, I’m sure Stuart would be honored to enjoy your company.” Stuart Robertson quickly finished chewing the bite of steak he had just popped into his mouth. Nodding, he said, “that’s right, Dear, I’m sure both Jimmy and I would enjoy your company. Unless you have plans to stay longer.” “I’m not sure,” Kristen was quite amused by the encouragement. “I do appreciate the offer. I’ll let you know one way or the other by tomorrow evening.” Kristen enjoyed Jimmy’s company and felt relaxed by his enthusiastic acceptance of her. She could tell him anything, and trust his confidence. Though there was much more to him than met the eye, she felt strangely attracted to him. Kristen thought it would be scandalous, especially when Jimmy and she became a hot item for discussion. All the benefits of a trusty male companion without the threat of heartbreak. There was always the possibility that her comfort in Jimmy came in part to his relationship to the world. He was a stranger, and as such, had no deep ties in her life, her family, or her hometown. Having to live a secretive life of at least a dual nature, he had confided in Kristen. Although one’s sexual orientation was one’s own business, people were generally prejudice about with whom they shared their time. She could keep his secret if he could keep hers. |
| Gypsies are thought to have a well-developed skill of wordless communication. They may also have a flair for drama. Combine those factors with rumors of their fierce ability to fight and undying loyalty to their clan, and you have a people shrouded in mystery. These clans were originally thought to be out of Egypt, hence the name. Well known as nomads in the western world, several factors marked a gap between the old ways and the new ways. Namely those factors were ownership of property and the subsequent formal education associated with becoming part of a community. The people never forgot who they were and how they survived. A gypsy network of sorts, Max’s extended family assisted greatly in gathering information, which allowed Max to discover the existence of Jimmy. Further investigation led Max to believe that Jimmy had a large support network. This was included in his report. Max had always harbored strong desires for his family’s security, and years of dedication to his employer had made that security realized. However, this new threat had started to pull all those unspoken questions from the furthest recesses of his mind. He knew his job and he had the desire to do it better than anyone else could. So far he had done just that. Max quickly dismissed his fears by resolving to help his master quell this latest threat. Having delivered his report, Max waited for the usual barrage of questions. “Do you really believe my Brother could have become so careless?” Alfons was a bit impatient but maintained a cool exterior. “I am merely reporting facts and summarizing the conclusions I have drawn. Whether or not this James individual played a part in your brothers’ untimely demise, I have no proof.” Proffering his reply with a bowed head, Max thought, “Grumpy,” Max’s internal dialogue had a condescending tone with the word. Alfons heard the word and cut his eyes to glare at his most faithful servant. Max had not been insolent in his last twenty years of service to Alfons. “My answer was much too curt,” Max continued his internal dialogue, “I definitely need a nap. It must be Jet lag.” Max had carried his eyes to the chandelier. “Needs dusting, I must remember to tell Bernard.” Looking directly at Max, Alfons blinked to clear his sight. He could hear Max speak, but did not see his lips move. Slowly Alfons realized he could hear Max's thoughts. Another gift from the loss of his brother. All Vampires have at least limited powers of telepathy. The most common is the ability to seduce, or plant suggestions. Alfons could communicate telepathically to his mistresses, but not to anyone else. Even his sister’s thoughts were silent to him, which he thought odd, but attributed it to their natural bloodline. He had known of this gift, even some of the vampire he sired, claimed to have received it, but Alfons never did. Alfons turned to hide his facial expression of wonder from Max. This was a most welcome power. “You have done well, Maxwell. How is your family?” Alfons had never been able to read Max, and he wanted more. “We prosper under your benevolence, my Lord, “ Max said aloud. Then internally he said, “Thank you, Lord.” Alfons’ vanity allowed him to believe he was the Lord whom Max thanked in his thoughts. “Get some rest, Maxwell. I expect to be needing your services again in the very near future.” Alfons turned his attention to some documents on his desk and wondered if this new gift would finally give him more control over his sister. Anna lived in the United States, and she traveled extensively throughout the Americas. He briefly entertained the thought of giving her address to this Jimmy person, but immediately dismissed it. Once I am no longer in need of her, I can destroy her and the secret she carries. I want the pleasure to myself, he thought. Shaking with the rage his dependence and weakness for Anna invoked, he looked through the window and pictured Anna’s petit frame. He hated and needed her, in more than one way. A weakness he despised. His only relief in the past had been to murder some hapless girl that resembled her. Just the thought pleased him, and he set out to do just that. |
| Reverend James lived in a simple house next to the church. Kristen knew the way by heart. Not only had her family visited often, her first year out of High School she had dated the Reverend’s son, Kenny. She and Kenny had coupled in the good Reverends bed. Kenny’s goal was to have sex in every room in the house. She was smiling at the memory when she pulled into the driveway. Still amused at their mischief, she checked her watch. Six, forty-five, just early enough to be considerate, and apparently the first person to arrive. That would at least give her the psychological advantage of holding familiar ground. Though it was still light out, Kristen had missed seeing four cars in the church parking lot. From the look of the house, not much had changed. Ida James met Kristen at the door. They embraced, “It’s so good to see you again, dear.” Ida had always been fond of Kristen. Though twenty-five years Kristen’s senior, Ida was an amazing beauty. “Thank you, Ida, you always make me feel loved.” Reluctant to release the comfort of the embrace, she asked, “how do you stay so beautiful? You haven’t changed a bit.” She reluctantly released the loving hold. “Lot’s of young lovers, dear.” Ida quickly retorted, and then added a conspiratorial wink. Casting a mock glance over her shoulder, “Don’t tell Dick, he’ll get suspicious and fire the pool boy.” They both giggled as Ida led Kristen into the Kitchen. The James’ home was simple but always clean. They had plenty of room and the place never looked crowded. Most of the wood furniture was very well polished. The kitchen was also very roomy. “Would you like a beer or glass of wine, dear?” Ida put on an apron waiting for Kristen’s reply. Kristen half smiled to herself, Ida had never offered Kristen Spirits before, and she could not recall ever seeing Ida imbibe, even at dinner. One of the perks to being a fellow “Grown-up”, she surmised. “Wine, please,” Kristen thought a beer would give the wrong impression. Ida pulled a bottle from the refrigerator, along with a cold-cut platter, and a platter of sliced cheese. “So, you have to tell me, how was the Army, dear?” Ida opened a cupboard and pulled out two boxes of crackers and another platter. She pulled out a rolling cart and started to load it up. “Well,” Kristen started as she watched Ida work, “ I was in the Medical Corps, so I didn’t get full exposure to the “Real Army,” or so I’m told. But generally when it didn’t conspire to be horrible, it was an eye opening experience. I have some fond memories, and they paid my college loans.” Satisfied that she had not been too negative, Kristen jumped to change the subject. “How is Kenny?” Ida had finished loading the cart and started to push, “Come along, dear. Kenny is doing fine. He’s Black Bear hunting in Canada this week.” “Always the adventurer.” Kristen said, more to herself than to Ida. “The past few years he’s been using a bow. I’d feel so much better if he used a perch like some Hunters put in a tree. You know, give him some advantage other than the element of surprise. Men! They are so macho, unless it’s child care.” Ida opened the door to the garage. The garage wasn’t the garage, any more, Kristen noticed with some relief. It was a nice game room and library. It smelled pleasantly of cigars and whisky. Once inside, Kristen noticed four men, three of whom she recognized immediately. “Ah, Kristen,” Reverend James stood and gave her a hug. “Please come in, dear.” Taking her by the elbow, he guided her to where the gentlemen had been seated until the ladies entered the room. “You know Mr. Robertson.” “So good to see you again, dear.” Mr. Robertson, the undertaker, looked genuinely pleased to see her, and shook her hand. “This, of course, is Sam Cramer.” Dick smiled as he introduced the police chief. “You look great, Kristen.” The police Chief warmly embraced Kristen. Kristen marveled at how she missed small town life. LeAnne Cramer, the chief’s daughter, and Kristen were the best of friends growing up. “And this,” Dick said with a slightly more formal posture, “is our dear friend Jimmy Jackson.” “How do you do?” Jimmy greeted Kristen with an extended hand. “Fine, thank you, I’m pleased to meet you.” Kristen shook the proffered hand. Their eyes met briefly. He was younger than the other gentlemen were, his hands were strong and rough, his eyes light brown, and his posture erect. Kristen liked him already. Holding his hand after he relaxed his firm but gentle grip, she asked, “have we met before, Mr. Jackson?” Her understated beauty instantly struck Jimmy. “I can say with great confidence, I would have remembered meeting you, Ms. Sandler.” Kristen cocked her head trying to remember from where she might have known this man. It was not so much his appearance that was familiar, but a feeling she had. Dick James interrupted her thoughts. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to help my boss. Please have a seat and I’ll be right back with some snacks.” Dick James hurried off to help his wife, Ida, set out refreshments. Kristen sipped her wine and tried to hide her shock at the plan unfolding before her. Jennifer had been murdered in Virginia Beach. The Chief believed a sexual predator had recently killed and mutilated four young women, in the greater metropolitan area of Hampton Roads, of which the cities of Norfolk and Virginia Beach shared beaches. On Friday evening, two days away, there would be an exclusive premier of Romanian Art at the Chrysler Metropolitan Museum, in Norfolk. As a cultural exchange, the Romanian Government agreed to send the exhibit with a compliment of Romanian artists. An artist would be showing his work in a section of the Museum. The itinerary debuted a different artist in every city on the tour. The killer could be there, since the murders had come to pass since the gallery started setting up for this show. Jimmy would escort Kristen, and have the freedom to look around. They had reservations at local hotels and would meet tomorrow night for dinner; they all had a four to five hour drive ahead of them in the morning. The police were bound by law to proceed on the trail of evidence, of which they had little. Not to mention the jurisdictional boundaries Chief Cramer simply could not violate. However, he had connections and the Chief had secured invitations to the event. Jimmy Jackson was a private investigator and as such, not bound by the constitutional measures protecting the public from the police. Any evidence Jimmy found could be turned over to the police to become part of their evidence trail. Of course, her role was more complex than that of a simple guest. The four victims had been wearing semi-formal attire, and they each wore a necklace with Turquoise stone. Each woman was young, healthy, and beautiful. Ida had a dress and turquoise necklace to lend Kristen. All present had agreed that Kristen might be able to flush out someone close to the killer if not the killer himself. Jimmy and the Chief would take it from there. Some plan, Kristen thought. She quietly looked at the men about her, as she listened. They were not comfortable, and she knew it. Then it dawned on her that she was pivotal to the plan, and these accomplished men must hate asking a woman for help of this magnitude. Kristen had her doubts. For starters, all the victims were very young and beautiful. Already down about spending spring break in her hometown, she felt her parents must have something to do with her involvement at this meeting. Kristen felt light-headed and asked for cold water. She was sure it was not just the wine making her feel warm and dizzy. Assuming she had been invited over for consoling and comfort over the loss of her sister, her frame of mind had been that of a victim. But instead of comfort, she discovered Ida had a less than righteous sense of humor, and the town’s Mortician, Reverend, and Police Chief had invited her to actively participate in a conspiracy to violate the civil rights of someone who probably enjoyed diplomatic immunity. Maybe, she thought, it was some kind of sick joke that she would be part of some small town mass fantasy to pull off a James Bond type mission, and she was asked to be bait. One thing she learned in the Army was that only the politically well informed could expect to get the jump on the competition. Pillars of the community had confided in her, invited her to join their conspiracy, and sheer political savvy compelled her to graciously accept the invitation. Okay, she thought somewhat whimsically, I’ll play your silly game. The culminating intensity of conspiracy, cigar smoke, pictures of the victims, and three glasses of wine on an empty stomach schemed traitorously against her composure. Feeling faint and somewhat nauseous, Kristen sat forward in her chair, a move that dislodged her last hold on her equal librium. She felt the ceiling fan chill the fine sheen of perspiration on her neck and arms. She was just able to blurt out, “sounds good to me.” Then a column of projectile vomit, burst from behind the light belch she was hoping to let discretely escape. She noticed before she passed out, that the spray had hit all the gentlemen present. Serves them right, she thought. |
| Maxwell had a great deal of information coming in. His masters’ brother had been decapitated. When he learned this, Maxwell trembled and feared his master’s reaction. He had personally interviewed the young woman present at the time of the killing. Her escort, a young man, had seen nothing, and could not be tracked down. Apparently he had been just visiting the area. The young woman, on the other hand, had been so terrified and traumatized that she had been put on medication. “No one believes me anyway,” she slowly drawled through a drug-induced calm. Her lids were heavy, her eyes were glassy, but the robe with which she covered her pajamas could not hide her voluptuousness. Her dark hair and light skin highlighted her blue eyes. The propensity of the Blood Relatives to prey on the youngest and healthiest adults both amused and saddened Max. That could be a weakness, he thought. She talked of the little wooden bolt shot into her shoulder. It had hit the handsome gentleman in his teeth. He was about to kiss her, when it all went wrong. There was a huge dog that had jumped up on her, and then there was a spear driven into his chest, and a machete used to remove his head. She had told the story several times for both the police and a psychiatrist. She volunteered a great deal of information with out being prompted, beyond the opening, “Can you tell me about the events of last Saturday night?” “The man was wearing camouflage,” said Linda. “You know, dressed like a hunter. Not like an Army guy.” “What do you mean like a Hunter?” Max was very curious about that. “You know,” Linda let her eyes search upward, as if to help her memory by avoiding the distraction of other beings, “covered from head to toe, like a leafy bush. I always thought that stuff was silly, but he was very close and came out of nowhere. Then he was gone in a second. He didn’t run, he just melted into the trees.” Max nodded to indicate he was following her words. “So, Linda, it could have been a woman, since you didn’t see the person?” “Oh no, it was a man.” Linda smiled as if the retelling of her tale amused her to the point that patronizing an often-condescending audience had become blase'. “I heard him whisper something. I didn’t catch any of it, I just know it was a man’s voice.” Pleased with her cooperation, Max offered his condolences for the trauma, and his appreciation for her time. He gave her the $1,000 he promised for the interview, reminded her not to discuss the matter with any other magazines, and hurried out. Opening his umbrella against the light drizzle, he contemplated the information. Erik was not dispatched in his sleep, nor was he caught in the sunlight by some careless act or twist of fate. He had been dispatched at night, in the woods, in the middle of an attack. Of that much Max was certain. It sounded so much like the work of another Vampire. Yet Alfons, and his siblings, were the most powerful and wise Vampires on Earth. It was shocking to even think another Vampire could accomplish such a thing. Yet this was the second sibling his master had lost in as many years. This was a pattern that did not bode well. Max looked out the window of the taxi. It was an entirely unpleasant rainy day. Palms of tropical trees waived in the breeze, the movement muted under the burden of shedding raindrops. For all its natural beauty, southern Florida was not a place Max would want to live. He had traveled broadly, and Max always found the isolated locations of little populace were most likely to call to his heart. Yes, the spring flowers perfumed the air, but Max always considered people as his largest threat. The flight back would be long enough to get a good rest, and catch up on some reading. Max was his masters’ keeper; he had resigned himself to his fate. He had a family, and they prospered handsomely due to his arrangement with his Master. Alfons was Max’s mentor in many matters and at times his closest companion. Max had grown to love and hate his master with equal conviction. Betrayal reflected a lack of character, and Max had never been a man lacking the strength of his convictions. This was doubly easy as Max had always been of the opinion that betrayal was among the greatest of sins. Even in the secrets of his heart, he was well beyond the age where his loyalties conflicted with or otherwise opposed his self-preservation. This devotion to duty both thrilled and terrified Max. Lord Alfons had given up servants before, to save his own skin. However, he always made it up to their families, and for generations. Max spent a good deal of time distributing the Master’s monetary reparations, anonymously. The Master did this out of wisdom, for Max always knew he would gladly lay down his life, not just for the sake of loyalty to Alfons but for the sake of his family. Max was a fit man. Healthy and full of life. A master swordsman, marksman, and martial artist. These things he learned from a cruel master, and he bore the scars of it. Alfons insisted that Max stay sharp, for if he could not defend himself, how could he defend the Master. If Max allowed his Master to perish, Alfons’ Sister, Anna, would see to it that Maxwell’s life was forfeit. In and of itself this was not the worst; his family would loose all protection and become targeted for destruction. In life, progeny are of the utmost importance. Max had much to tell the Master. |
| Kristen’s life had turned upside down. She had been stationed at Fort Sam Houston while she was in the Army, so it felt natural to return to Texas to further her education. The environment was not unfamiliar and it was far enough from Virginia to make short visits from or to her parents home an expense and inconvenience. Emotionally, she was just starting to get over being dumped for a younger woman. Intellectually, she was finishing her last few weeks of college. A degree in criminology seemed more tolerable than working in the medical profession, where every smiling doctor would remind her of her ex-fiancé. Her part time job as a Deputy Sheriff was well suited to her studies; Kristen had plenty of time to study on duty, and the job fulfilled the internship requirements for her Degree. Kristen's life was at full speed when out of nowhere, her kid sister, Jennifer, was brutally murdered. Maybe it was all the stress that had allowed the dreams to return, but she would have thought an insight to her sister’s death would have come, but it did not. Jennifer had suffered severe trauma to the throat, and Kristen immediately thought of her dream. More often than not, Kristen dreamed with such meticulous detail, the task of validating a precognitive dream was never an issue. Her latest may have been a pre-cognitive-symbolic dream, but Kristen had not anticipated the loss of her sister. As a child, Kristen had been shunned, to an extent, and discouraged from telling anyone about her dreams. To the God fearing family that raised her, the gift was a little too mysterious, and never held good tidings. It made her a freak, of sorts, and her gift was quietly labeled the work of the devil. Kristen knew there was no reason to share the information that lurked in the shadows of her mind. The funeral was held at a local cemetery, and more than a hundred people showed up. It was a sunny Spring day, the kind of day made for celebrating life, not bidding a loved one goodbye. For Kristen it was a good cover to allow the stress to manifest itself in an onslaught of tears. It was reasonable to assume the loss of a sister would bring great grief. It wasn’t entirely so. It seemed the instant Kristen landed at the airport, her parents put a lot of pressure on her to look into Jennifer’s death. They assumed her studies and law enforcement ties could gain her access to information the parents could not get. They overlooked the fact that out living a child is fundamentally unnatural, and no answers would ever ease their grief. All the right answers would never fill the void of loss. Kristen knew this but still promised to do what she could. She also harbored some resentment. Kristen thought, “Never mind my troubles”. Of course she didn’t let on that she had any. Her parents had been great folks and encouraged their children to succeed. The reunion at the airport was tearful. The homecoming was tearful. The wake was private and tearful, but Kristen was able to concentrate on the business aspect of the event. The Church service and the funeral were the most difficult for Kristen. There were so many of Jennifer’s beautiful young friends and colleagues. They were hanging on the arms of their young and handsome escorts. The pain of her loneliness, her daily frustrations, and the guilt of her jealously for Jennifer, was too much. Kristen's entire life was full of memories of doting over Jennifer. In the early years, the five years of difference in age was not a problem, but as Jennifer advanced into her adolescent years, Kristen’s role as care giver and baby sitter gave way to Jennifer’s need for a chaperone. Those were the most difficult times for Kristen, she wanted to explore her own individuality, not to mention her sexuality, but Jennifer was a constant companion. Kristen completely overlooked the freedom her parents had gained, because she was constantly preoccupied by the freedom she lost. The circumstances conspired to develop in Kristen a strong resentment for the baby of the family. Jennifer was just twenty-two years old. Looking into the casket, Kristen thought no one would ever remember Jen as anything but young, beautiful, and full of potential. Jennifer had none of the telltale signs of aging. At twenty-seven, Kristen felt like a troll in comparison to her sister. She was not, of course. Kristen had bloomed into a true beauty. Her shoulder length light brown hair was still vibrant and soft; her body was very lean, muscular, and agile. She was very independent and self-assertive. The total package for the right man. But it seemed she fell short in ways she could not understand. She could never settle for someone lacking vibrancy for life. Yet the men she found attractive preferred the demure ‘Trophy Wife’ type. Cute, sultry, and full of those inane smiles you expect to be followed by a bright-eyed shrug and a peppy “Okay” to anything a man might suggest. Kristen could be a partner, but never just a plaything. There is nothing so wounding to one’s self esteem as rejection. Kristen had been rejected and had turned her pain into bitter anger and resentment. “Let’s face it,” she once told a friend. “Men are just looking to simplify their lives. If I could find someone beautiful, that did really cool things to my naughty parts, and followed my every suggestion, I might be tempted to hang on to him.” She felt she could never compete with most of the lovely young women that attended the funeral, and she found herself feeling bitter at every glance. It was easy to pass it off as grief for the loss of her sister. Mr. Robertson, the mortician, bought the act. He was a gentleman in his fifties, and although he only knew Kristen through their recent business dealings, it always tugged at his heart to see suffering. He and a slightly younger gentleman, the Minister, approached Kristen “Kristen,” Reverend James began, “ I know the depth of your grief will allow you little comfort for sometime. I am sorry for your loss. I advise prayer, and I would like you to visit my home tonight. Mr. Robertson,” he lifted an upturned palm to indicate the mortician, “and I have a mutual acquaintance that may help you find some peace.” Kristen nodded her consent from behind sunglasses, which covered puffy eyes, and a kerchief that hid her red nose. Perhaps the ‘mutual acquaintance’ of theirs was a grief counselor, she thought. Even that would be a welcome relief to the brooding home of her parents. “Good, we’ll expect you around 7:00 tonight.” Reverend James gave her a hug, and Mr. Robertson shook her hand. Kristen watched them depart together, then she headed to the family car. |
| Emerging from the wooded path, Max could see the evening sky was bright with familiar stars. Towering Alps framed his view of the sky. The Mansion was not very well lit; as a rule, the lights were for the servants. Chief among them was Maxwell Beglitzi, walking briskly to the Mansion from his private quarters on the far side of a small patch of woods. Max entered the Mansion through his private entry. The sound of his shoes would be a constant companion while he was in the Mansion. Looking up the steps, he did not notice any condensation but he still took the steps one at a time and carefully, cool stone could be treacherous. Moving through the kitchen, he heard the softly playing stereo and the baroque music that characterized Hans, the Chief Butler. They exchanged brief words about the state of the Mansion and the Master. Satisfied, Max moved on to the Masters office. Maxwell’s shoes announced his approach and arrival to the office. Working at a large wooden desk, a youthful appearing man wrote on stationary. Dark hair, lean build, defined features, and upright posture gave the man the appearance of health and vitality. Fine clothing and easy mannerisms marked him as an affluent man. Few people knew of his existence. Writing a letter at his desk, Alfons paused but did not look up from his task. “My brother has met with his destruction.” Alfons put it out as a fact; no emotion attached to it. No remorse. No blame. His eyes were hard and cold, but they hid the excitement welling inside. The cold granite block walls seemed to throw his voice back to the center of the room. Poorly lit with candles, it was a room he only used at night. It offered a view of the southern sky, mountains, and sloping steeps. The mansion was well kept, well furnished, and filled with many wonders of history, but it offered little warmth; atmospheric or otherwise. Max, a lean man in his late fifties, cleared his throat, “My condolences, Lord.” Alfons looked at his letter one final time. Apparently satisfied, he carefully folded and placed the letter in an envelope. Alfons rose from his high backed chair and moved to the window. Opening the window, he breathed deep the night air. Though he had little need for breathing, he sampled every olfactory delight the night carried. It was not just a rehearsed mannerism that had the affect of relaxing those around him. He could identify every scent he detected and felt a sense of loss for those he missed. Turning to Max he smiled, “you are too kind.” Quickly the smile faded away. Alfons walked to Max and handed him the envelope. “This is a letter of introduction, it is for your contact.” Alfons looked closely at Maxwell. “I will expect your prompt return, but be thorough.” “Yes, my Lord.” Max understood he was to leave immediately. “Maxwell, I have every confidence in your capabilities. I anticipate your safe return and expect you will use your time as you see best.” Alfons turned and briskly walked out of the room. His shoes never announced his coming and going, unless he willed it, and he did not need to pretend for Max. Max, bowed his head and followed his master’s retreat through weary eyes. Alfons felt new power acquired with the loss of his second brother. He was excited. More excited than he had been in years. Alfons could feel the power surge through his being. The sensation was delightfully new. He had now lost two brothers and only a sister remained. When the first brother passed, he felt a new interest in life, if you could call his undead existence a life. At first he thought it was a psychological boost from the fact that destruction had found one of The Four. He could feel a new strength about his being and he soon associated it with the loss of a sibling. This time there was no mistaking the force. He felt supremely fit and powerful. Alfons tried to remember the old tales and lessons he was forced to learn in his youth. Did powers pass on to survivors? Like many Romanian Families, legitimacy never played a favor in the right to claim lineage. Blood was blood. He and his brothers had different mothers. His sister, however, not only shared the same mother; they rode into this world as identical twins. He had sired her, and considered himself the last of three. He patronizingly allowed her to be part of the ruling heads; thus 'The Four' referred to the Four oldest Vampires. They were Princes and Anna gave Alfons the advantage of superior numbers when matters came to a vote. He never considered her a force to be reckoned with, and never considered her equal to himself or any of his brothers, regardless of the disdainfully patronizing assurances he gave Anna. Anna never gave Alfons reason to rebuke her publicly, and they always presented a unified front. Blood was blood. Alfons sired Anna, but she never felt or behaved like any of his other conquests; a slave to his desire. Anna was strong willed and he attributed her special power to the bond they had in life. When the cursed gift of immortality was forced upon him, Alfons naturally turned to Anna. Brother and sister gave each other the strength to persevere. He thought about her often. Many years passed before Alfons and Anna became aware of their two half-brothers. When they found each other they quickly recognized that among themselves they possessed very strong and special gifts. They created the Blood Laws, and brutally enforced them among the Vampire societies that popped up during the industrial revolution. With cities experiencing booming growth rates and the crime associated with it, Vampires enjoyed a great deal of prosperity. Growing numbers of course needed control. Men have always annialated the predators they fear, and the Four tried to maintain a discrete balance. The last thing a budding Vampire Nation needed was a holy war. When men combined forces to the single purpose of rooting out a perceived evil, the results could be devastating. Vampires would have to hibernate for years, until the human fear subsided. Alfons always considered Anna one of his children, but never belabored the point with her. She often provided strategic insight he never saw on his own, and a silent partner was of little use. She was under him in the order of lineage as far as Blood Relatives figure, but her special status as sibling was convenient for Alfons. He wondered if he was now the oldest living Vampire, and if that virtue alone made him the most powerfully gifted. If that was the case, he could rule with impunity, and Anna’s guidance would no longer be needed. He despised his weakness for her. Alfons’ reverie was interrupted when he reached the room he wanted. Opening the door to a large chamber, his lips formed a cruel smile. With a wave of his hand, torches lit the in the chamber. The room, like so many in the mansion, had no windows. Several coffins lined the walls, each held soil from the burial place of the owner. “Mistresses,” he called without opening his mouth, “come forth.” Coffin after coffin opened. From each came a lovely siren. They seemed to float slowly forth. As the women approached Alfons, his mind filled with whispers. “Ooh Master,” purred one. “Pick me, Master,” plead another. “Let us be your pleasure tonight, Master,” came a joint plea from the twins. When the room and his mind echoed with their supplication, as they hovered and groveled, he held up a hand for silence. Alfons surveyed large breasts and small, curvy full hips, and buttocks pleasing to the eye. All of them nubile and pleading to serve. “We will all play tonight my children.” The smile on his lips was not entirely malevolent. Alfons led the procession down a corridor that opened into a terraced balcony. The balcony encircled a large room. The room was scattered with the sleeping bodies of back packers. The European Alps always attracted young adventurers with limited funds. It was easy to lure them into the mansion with the promise of bed and board for the night. Alfons watched with delight as his companions floated into the midst of bodies and quietly seduced and drained their hapless victims. There was no screaming, no running, and no mess. Alfons was proud of his companions; he had trained them well. Kristen woke with a start, but lay still with her eyes closed. The images were so fresh and real in her minds eye. She opened her eyes and looked about her dorm room. What ever had inspired this nightmare must be a mix of her studies and a less than healthy diet. She turned on her light and recorded her dream. . Note to self: Make them six or seven, to mirror the Pleiades, have him feed on them. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
