Tears to be Wept

“Are you surprised to see me?” Lemont queried from his perch on the balcony. Anais glanced over to see him and then returned to gazing at herself in her mirror.

“You’re not the first stranger to visit me unexpectedly.” she murmured and glanced his way once more. In that glance, Lemont caught a glimpse of her eyes, the color of amethysts lit by candlelight (which, indeed, they were). He felt his heart swell in his chest.

“There have been others?” he inquired, taking a step toward the veiled curtains that separated the balcony from her bedroom.

“Plenty, though you’re the first to come by balcony. However did you accomplish it? There is no ladder.” The mirror she gazed in was set into a wall, a table had been set below it to hold the candles she used to light her face as she beheld her own beauty. It also held a small, wooden brush. She swiftly lifted it and began to run it through her long, volumous hair.

“It’s a secret.” Lemont grinned. He took yet another step forward. The balcony wasn’t as capacious as most balconies seen on estates, it was solely large enough to hold Anais and maybe another. In just one more step, he would be in the very same room as her, a feat no other man had yet to accomplish.

“I’ll have to remember to have someone put a door there,” she set the brush back down on the table and turned to eye him. Though she could only see his silhouette though the curtains, outlined by a slightly obscured luminescent moon, he’d somehow piqued her curiosity in a way no other man had,

“Just in case someone else holds your ‘secret’.” Lemont chuckled and stepped though the curtains, they parted to permit him, brushing across his skin like a thousand spiders crawling gently, but swiftly. Anais gasped a little, held aback that he could be so bold as to intrude upon her space, yet she regained her composure quickly, hoping he hadn’t noticed her before stance. Her features, however, were lit by the flickering candles and so Lemont had seen her perfectly. From Anais’ view, everything outside the circle of light was covered in a heavy cloak of darkness.

“You needn’t bother. No other would attempt it.” Lemont assured her. Anais backed away from the mirror and turned to face him, a slight smile had begun to form, enhancing her already exceptional beauty ten fold.

“Do you find me comical?” he queried. He cocked his head a little to the side, minutely disconcerted.

“No, the situation, in itself, is quite comical.”

“Really? I’d hoped you would consider it romantic. I suppose comedy is just as swell.”

“Romantic? Surely you’ve not come for romance, have you any idea the hour of this night?”

“I’m fully aware. But I couldn’t force my eyes to permit me sleep. I had to see you. You are quite a sight to behold.” At this, he stepped into the flickering light, giving her a first sight of him. She took in his once unknown features ravenously. Pallid skin, lips a little too pink for her liking, and eyes the color of rubies. He wasn’t much of looker, at least not compared to her, but he was far from ugly. He had a very subtle kind of beauty, one that was increasingly hard to find on her side of the country. All the other suitors were either breathtakingly handsome or burn out your eyes ugly. She decided that she liked this person, this man, this potential suitor.

“I won’t feign as if those words were never given to me before you.” she sniffed as she returned her gaze to the mirror, playing a tiny game of hard-to-get.

“ I won’t feign as if I didn’t already know of that.” Lemont retorted. Anais scoffed at this, but her smile returned.

“I thought all women liked compliments.” Lemont ventured further, hoping to draw out more of that ever elusive smile. She’d been a bit more difficult to sway than any other woman he’d encountered, but he was confident that he could win her. Correction, he would win her.

“Yes,” she answered, her grin widening, “we do, well, I do. But not the same compliment time and time again. It gets boring and I’d hoped you would be more original.”

“Original?”

“Yes, if you could make it up to my balcony, then you could certainly conjure up some witty but original compliment.” Though her tone contributed to chastising, her grin never once faltered. Lemont noted this and celebrated inside. He’d won, now the harder part began.

“ I could maybe think up some compliments if you’ll join me.” he stated slyly, but cautiously. He watched as her brow furrowed with a minute sense of concern.

“Join you? Why, we have already joined, however informally. Fortunately, I was properly dressed if-”

“An exchange of words, however slightly coquettish, is not my idea of a proper joining. Dinner is.” Anais rested a hand on her hip and touched the tip of her chin with another. The candlelight vaguely illuminated her attire. She wore a dress so sheer, it was almost see-though (almost, that is). It was meant to be light and airy so as to permit easy traveling while walking. The sleeves were dramatically draped and long. They hung off her arms spectacularly. On most women, this dress would be ill-fitting, not at all complimentary to the figure, but on Anais, it was perfect.

“Fine,” she stated after a moment, “I’ll have the servants prepare a dinner for us and we shall dine-”

“Not here,” Lemont interjected, “at my estate.”

“Your estate? I have never left my home to appease some ordinary man, they come to me.” Lemont scoffed a little at this comment, a little dispirited by her words, but he never gave up. He managed a slight chortle.

“What is so funny?” Anais asked exasperatedly almost.

“Your statement.”

“What about it?”

“You attributed me to ’some ordinary man’.”

“Well, you are an ordinary man, however quite charismatic.” Lemont laughed again and stated matter-of-fact,

“I am no ordinary man.” He winked at her and continued,

“But I understand if you’d rather not dine with me tonight. I’m sorry to have wasted your time and mine. I bid adieu.” He turned to leave, hoping that she’d stop him and sure enough she did.

“Wait!” she called. He spun around to face her, but backed into the darkness, insuring that his features (and the little smug smile) wouldn’t be distinguished.

“I do want to go, I’m quite fond of you already, it’s just that-” her head drifted back to the mirror and her eyes began analyzing her reflection. Lemont noted a faint smile forming on her lips. One mixed with love and torture.

“A narcissist, I presume.” he muttered, more to himself than to her, yet she heard him all the same. Her face twisted with anger for a moment, and then, which a dispirited sigh, she relinquished the budding emotion.

“I can’t be angry. I can’t be angry because it’s true. I am a narcissist and it’s a curse.”

“Now I wouldn’t go that far, you’re truly a pulchritudinous sight to behold. If I had a face like yours, I’d be attached to a mirror as well.”

“Thank you, but it is truly a curse. An ugly old witch cast it on me when I was only a child.”

“Oh? Arbitrarily? Or for a reason?”

“I laughed at her and called her ugly.”

“How spiteful of you, do go on.”

“I was only a child. I cared not if I hurt her feelings, I’d yet to learn. She could have spared me, made me temporarily narcissistic, maybe for a day or a week or a month at most.” A look of distress was etched across her face, Lemont tried to lighten the mood by adding,

“I’ll bet you were a beautiful child.”

“I was.” Anais smiled tenderly and her eyes wandered back to the mirror. She ran a hand through her hair absentmindedly, all the while maintaining eye contact with her mirrored half. Lemont cleared his throat and coughed to rouse her from her self-induced trance. It worked, she jolted as if by shock and eyed his silhouette. He noted the look of relieved gratitude in her eyes.

“I was incredibly vain as a child, she must have known it somehow. I hate her for it.”

“Now, now, now. Hate is a strong word. Strongly dislike is much better, I’ll even accept-”

“I hate her for it. If it weren’t for her I wouldn’t be trapped here in this room,” as she said this, her eyes wandered, not to the room, but back to her reflection, she continued on, her eyes glued to her reflection’s eyes,

“Forced to look at myself in the mirror, damned to never leave this room.”

“I’m certain you can leave the room.”

“I can’t,” her voice broke a little, “this is the only mirror in the house, I’m stuck here. Stuck here with nothing but me, my mirror, and my love for myself.”

“Some men like that in a woman.” Lemont said hopefully. Anais chortled a little at this, then sniffled. A tear had begun to slide down her delicate cheeks. Still eyeing her reflection, she wiped it away with one swipe of the back of her hand. Lemont watched this avidly, unable to make words that could, perhaps, soothe her, make her feel better. For once in his life (and he liked to consider it a long life) he was at a loss for words. She was astonishingly beautiful, with a witty sense of humor, and a lot of spunk. But she was tortured daily by the very thing that brought her so much joy and satisfaction. It could’ve even been possible that as much as she loved her beauty, she hated it as well. Perhaps this was why he’d been so drawn to her, so compelled to find her. How tragic, he watched another tear trail down her cheek, and yet, how utterly delicious.

“So you see why I can’t join you at your home.” she concluded, tearing her gaze from her reflection. Lemont sensed that if he spent more time with her in this condition, there would be a lot of tearing her gaze away from her reflex ion. She gave him a pained expression, one that evoked the true sentiments of her tortured soul. Quite a paradox to the spunky girl he’d first encountered. By simply uttering the n word (narcissist, mind you) her spunky, vivacity unraveled and her inner-being was revealed. A sign of weakness? Or a sign of genuineness? Lemont preferred the latter.

“Not necessarily.” he contradicted.

“Not necessarily?” she asked, incredulous, “do you intend to dismantle my mirror from my wall and cart it out to your source of transportation? Mind you, this mirror weights at least-”

“I don’t intend to dismantle any mirror of any sort.”

“You’re quite fond of interposing, aren’t you? It’s very rude.”

“Shall I remind you that you’ve done the same?”

“No, and I have a right to do that. It’s my home, I can behave how I please. You’re a visitor, and an uninvited one at that.” Lemont smiled, her spunk had returned.

“I have a mirror of my own, it’s not as big and grandiose as yours, but you’ll find it to your liking, and far more easier to travel with.” He had in fact come bearing a gift, a unique hand held mirror decorated with extravagant arabesques. He felt grateful at how convenient it was. He produced it from behind his back, for all she knew, by prestidigitation. And that might have been the truth.

“I can’t see it.” Anais complained, peering into the darkness. She slightly resembled a child with Downs when she squinted. But an extraordinarily beautiful child with Downs. He held the mirror out, so that it could be reflected in the dimming light from the candles. She gasped when she saw it, and yanked it from his hands (more from shock than rudeness, mind you).

“It’s marvelous,” she began to sashay around her room, “I can walk about. It’s wonderful.” she laughed a little, holding the mirror straight ahead so she could look at herself as she walked.

“It’s not heavy, so your arms won’t tire.” Lemont added, though it was something she’d already figured out.

“Now I most certainly will have to dine with you, to return the favor.” she beamed as she said this. Her gaze hadn’t yet left the mirror, hadn’t yet left her reflex ion. But this time, it wasn’t because she was a narcissist, but because she couldn’t believe the uniqueness of the gift. And how convenient.

“Shall we part then?” Lemont inquired as he returned to the light, headed toward the large oak door to the far end of the room.

“Not quite. First, I want you to tell me how you got up here. I don’t believe there exists a ladder long enough to reach my balcony.” she waltzed past him, brushing him slightly as she did, went outside, and peered over her balcony. Lemont turned and followed not too close behind her.

Before, when Lemont had first arrived, the clouds had obscured the moon, making the only light that of one from her candles, but the clouds had parted revealing a full moon, making everything almost as bright as day.

“Would you believe me if I said I jumped up here?” Lemont grinned, revealing his teeth. Anais turned around, prepared to tell him that she wouldn’t believe him, that is, until she saw his smile. He had your average pearly whites (those properly attended by a toothbrush and toothpaste, mouthwash, and floss), incredibly straight and perfect teeth, that is, except for the canines. They were unusually long and unusually sharp. Well, unusual for a human, that is. She believed (or half believed) that he’d actually jumped to reach her balcony solely because she no longer believed that he was a human like her, but a vampire.

Lemont noted her unusual silence and the look on her face: one of surprise, mingled with a little bit of fear, and acknowledgement. Quickly he ran his tongue across his teeth and felt, with a sense of horror, that he’d forgotten to retract his canines. What she was currently seeing was four pairs of elongated and needle sharp vampire teeth. Yet, her expression changed, and she didn’t seem quite so afraid, unlike the many women before her, but vaguely intrigued. Nevertheless, he retracted them until they almost appeared human in appearance.

“You can retract them?” she asked, a little in awe. For once she hadn’t glanced in the mirror at herself, she was far too amazed by the uncloaking of who he really was. He held her complete attention.

“Yes.” he answered quickly, feeling a bit defeated. He hadn’t planned for her to know his secret so soon, if ever. Already she had some kind of idea of who he really was.

“You’re a vampire?” she said, more of a statement than a question. In that sense, with that very question, she was like every other woman he’d attempted to court. One sight of the teeth and the first thought was ’vampire’. In a way, that’s what he was, but in another, it wasn’t even the half of it.

“Sort of.” he shuffled a bit, slightly uncomfortable. He was usually confident in his demeanor until it came down to his true identity. It had taken him centuries to figure out that he didn’t necessarily like the taste of blood and had no real physical need to have it. But it had taken even longer for him to accept it, what he really was. It wasn’t the blood he needed, nor carnage of any sort, but the tears. Particularly those of a woman. When he’d spotted the two tears Anais had shed, that must have been when his canines extended, roused by the faint salty scent that her tears gave off.

“Sort of?” Anais scoffed. Lemont gestured to show his discomfort.

“Fine,” she continued,” but now I’m coming with you not only to dine, but because I’m curious.”

“You’re not afraid of me? A vampire? I could be after your blood for all you know.” Anais shrugged, nonchalant.

“I don’t really feel I have need to fear. My presumption is that if you were only after my blood, I wouldn’t be standing her now, and I doubt you’d make yourself known to me, let alone, carry on a conversation and some harmless bantering. Besides, I’m highly intrigued. I’ve never had a suitor that was a vampire,” she noted how Lemont winced a little at the word and quickly added, “or whatever you are.” Again her eyes returned to the hand held mirror.

“There’s no real name for what I am, really. Some call me the ‘Pilferer of Tears’. I think the name’s a little dramatic.”

“Just a tinge. So you thrive off tears?”

“Not necessarily thrive, but every once in a while, I get a need, sort of like your narcissist curse, only to a lesser extreme.”

“Is that what you came to me for? My tears?” Lemont shuffled a little, unsure for why he’d actually come.

“No, yes, not really. I’m unsure. I thought that was what it was in the beginning, which is why I invited you to join me for dinner. But now, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know.” her tone was slightly condescending, but he chose to ignore it. He was rather slow to anger, but easily annoyed. He didn’t want her to suffer the consequences of his wrath.

“I don’t.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out later.”

“I hope so. Are you still coming to join me, or have you changed your mind.”

“Oh, I’m coming.”

“Swell, shall we take leave?” he turned to reenter her bedroom, perhaps to leave by way of the stairs.

“Can you fly?” Anais asked, out of the blue. She remained on the balcony, her hands plastered akimbo on her waist. Lemont sighed,

“No.”

“You lie.”

“I do not. My horse is down below.”

“I see a horse, but it’s not yours, it’s mine.”

“How can you possibly know that, we could have the same type of horse. They could be twins for all you know.”

“Highly unlikely, and I doubt it.” Lemont sighed, defeated.

“Fine. You win. It isn’t mine.”

“Oh, I knew it wasn’t yours. I asked you if you could fly.” Lemont never answered, instead, he lifted her in his arms with one swift arm movement.

“Hold on tight, if you don’t, I’ll drop you.” Anais complied and wrapped her arms around his neck, insuring that she had the best grip on him and on the hand mirror. He was extremely slender, but she could sense the power in him. It impressed her and for the first time she noticed that she didn’t feel a physical need to stare at her reflex ion. Perhaps this strange vampire, this pilferer of tears, could do some good for her besides being a potential suitor. Perhaps he could cure her.

Lemont climbed onto the balcony’s railing and leaned out a little.

“Don’t be alarmed.” he murmured seconds before haggard wings emerged from underneath his clothing. They were the color of roasted coffee beans, and appeared to be as thin as paper, but she could sense that they were strong and could easily carry them up and away.

“I’m not.” she replied and then added,

“Can you turn yourself into a bat?” Lemont grinned and rolled his eyes,

“Yes,” he answered, “but I’d surely drop you if I did that now.”

“Oh, then don’t. But later.”

“Yes, later.” he reiterated her statement and leapt from the balcony. Immediately his wings flapped powerfully, levitating them and then propelling them higher and higher and faster and faster until Anais’ home, a grand edifice, became nothing more than a luminous dot in a forest of black.

Anais marveled over how wonderful the night had become as Lemont landed in the yard before his estate. One minute she was trapped in her room with her mirror, forced to stare at her refection, the next she was flying high over the trees, hugged close to a vampire (or whatever) and the need to view herself was no where near as great. She didn’t consciously know it, but she’d subconsciously decided to stick around for a while, not only because he was mysteriously good for her, but because already she’d grown attached to him.

“I was curious,” Lemont began as they sat down in front of their dinner, “have you ever considered going to find this witch to reverse the curse?”

“I have.” Anais answered curtly.

“And?”

“And she’s dead.”

“You killed her?”

“No, I wish I had though. She’d already passed by the time I’d found her. I have simply resigned to accept it.”

“You shouldn’t accept it.”

“Oh? And why?”

“No deserves to be cursed in such a way and to such an extent. By the way you reacted when we were flying, I could tell you don’t get out much.”

“I don’t.”

“I want to help you find a cure, if there is one.”

“How kind of you. To think, you’re willing to help me and we have yet to exchange our names.”

“I knew there was something missing. Pleased to be in your acquaintance, I’m Lemont.”

“Lemont, huh? Well, I’m Anais, pleased to meet you as well.”

“Well, Anais, do you mind staying the night? I couldn’t possibly fly you back this night. There’s a full moon, too much of a risk we could be spotted.”

“That’s fine, I’d already been planning to stay. Why ever would I want to go back to my prison?”

“I couldn’t tell you.. There are plenty of rooms here for you to choose from, you may do so after dinner.” He reached over and grasped a chicken leg from a nearby platter and brought it to his lips.

“I’ve a question.” Anais piped. She hadn’t really eaten any of her dinner. She never had an appetite late at night.

“Oh?” Lemont looked up from his leg and lifted an eyebrow. He set the chicken leg back on the platter.

“Are your parents still alive? Forgive me, do vampires have parents? How did you come to be if not?” Lemont chortled mildly and answered,

“Yes, I have parents.”

“You speak of them in the present tense, that must mean they live.”

“They live only in my memories, when I forget, if I forget, then they shall be relinquished to the past.”

“What happened, pray tell?” she picked up the hand mirror and glanced at her reflection and then set it back down.

“When I was two decades into life, I lived on my own, but I still kept in touch with my parents, which is unlike a vampire just out on his own. But I had attachment issues. Well, anyway, my parents went vacationing to Barbados for a while, to perhaps escape the havoc of their normal life in Italy, or maybe just to give me a hint that I need to sever their ties. My mother had been expecting her second child, my sister. She was eight months pregnant. Well, I guess the havoc had been some hunters that had gotten too strong of a whiff of them, and they were trying to escape, but they followed them there to Barbados. I was told that my parents fought valiantly, but were felled by two silver bullets in the heart. The hunters left them there on the beach, hoping they’d rot. That was just over two centuries ago.”

“So you’re an only child.”

“No.”

“But your mother was killed while pregnant, the baby must have died when she did.”

“Vampires and humans differ in many aspects, this is one of them. Unlike human mothers, when a vampire mother dies while pregnant, the child, unless far too early in its development, survives, drawing all it needs from its mother’s body. Then, when nothing is left but a dry husk, the baby merely breaks free from its maternal shell. My sister’s out there somewhere, I know it. I hope to find her someday.”

“Interesting. Do you know of anything that could perhaps aid you in your search?” she picked up the mirror and then set it back down, an unconscious grimace formed and then quickly dissipated.

“There’s another thing. In order to ensure its strength, the child must take all it absolutely can from its mother, every single drop of nutrition. The weak ones are the ones that grew claustrophobic in the womb and merely ate their way out quickly. They grow up lacking the powers of a true vampire, but gaining an insatiable appetite for flesh. You humans call them cannibals.”

“What does this have to do with your sister?”

“When I went back to see my parents two months after their deaths, my mother was only fine ash.”

“She could have decomposed.”

“We don’t decompose.”

“So what does this mean?”

“It means my sister is very powerful, maybe the most powerful there is.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“It could be either. I hope it’s a good thing, there are too many bad vampires out there, not to mention the multitudes of weak vampires that feed in secret on human and vampire alike. If she’s good, then she could rid us of them, or at least, keep them at a minimum.”

“And if she’s bad?”

“If she’s bad, there’s going to be a lot of hardship to come. She’s about two centuries old approaching the zenith of her power. I’m sure we’ll find out soon. For the sake of humans, I hope she’s good, no, I pray she’s good.”

Later that night, as Anais was slumbering (the mirror held firmly in her left hand), a pair of eyes watched on with interest and a slight sense of animosity. If Anais had awoken, she would have seen that they were the same ruby red as Lemont’s. But she remained in a deep slumber, tossing and murmuring to unseen ghosts of dreamland. The sun had yet to rise and give insight on the visitor, but had Lemont been in the room, had he seen the ruby red eyes that matched his own, he would have known. His sister had somehow found him before he’d even had a chance to search for her. But this wouldn’t be the start of a benevolent brother-sister relationship, but the beginning of a long and drawn out battle. She’d come out from hiding to lay her wrath upon the human race for the death of her parents. She’d long since reached her zenith, she’d only waited for the right time. And now, her time had finally come. The battle, soon, would follow.