| A warm wind blew through the alleyways, scattering fragrant, dead,
leaves and garbage in its wake. Tin cans rattled loud as they rolled
along the cement, their echoes like the voices of the dead marching.
The myriad lights from the windows shown in the alley at intervals,
signs of life awake in the wee hours past midnight.
Peter stood with his back to the wall at one end, letting his
mind wander as the light flicked on in one window or another, the
sleepless casting shadows; a small window coming alight in a
bathroom, only to go out again. It was an indication of unrest in
this modern world, he mused: few could sleep easily. Another
observer might have attributed such wakefulness as an indication of fear
and unease with the night and its denizens, after all, people in these
times disappeared in alarming numbers. Peter knew that it was nothing
of the sort, many were abducted in the daylight hours and hence, most people of this city had become immune to the old fear of the night.
He smiled. Modern times were nothing if not convenient. The sound
of a door creaking on its hinges roused him from his thoughts.
Someone was entering the ally. The door was closing very
slowly as if that someone did not want to be heard upon exit. Peter
could make out the silhouette as it headed in his direction. About
5’8” roughly 140# and male was his estimate. When he was near to
the halfway point between where he’d entered the alley and where
Peter stood a small dog began to bark shrilly in an upstairs window.
Peter worried a moment that the subject, who he’d already begun to
think of as his next victim, would turn back. Instead, the victim
started to run, sneakers crunching loose gravel on the cement. The
youth hadn’t even known what hit him, for that was what he
had been, a young man.
Peter came out of the shadows just as the boy was within mere
feet of the alley’s opening on the street. With one strong hand he
reached out and grabbed the boy by the throat, cutting off his air
then, in an economy of motion: brought the boys throat to his lips,
punctured his carotid artery with his canines and drank in the warm
nectar completely. He then deposited the body in the very same
shadow where he had stood. The small dog in the window continued
to bark unheeded.
“It’s OK Jack, really, I can lock up tonight. Anna Marie will
have your head as it is. I think she's still mad at you for being late
last night.” said Melanie cheerfully.
“But that was bowling, this is business. And, need I remind
you, it was Anna who gave me hell for letting you close at night
alone. And,” he added before she could interrupt, “it’s obvious she’s
right about you young women now-a-days thinking you’re all
invincible. I swear to you, little lady, there is more to mind out there
in the night than the few drunks that have come and gone in here
tonight.”
“Shall I call you, Papa Jack then?” she teased, laughing, though
not unkindly. “Listen, Jack. I appreciate your concern but really, this
part of town isn’t so bad.” She patted his shoulder. “If it will make
you feel better I will call a cab instead of walk tonight, OK?” She
was about to say more but the bell on the door announced the arrival
of a customer.
Tall and spare, black hair tied in a long tail, he approached the
bar slowly, hesitantly, she thought. “Is it too late, are you closed for
the evening?” Though his face was flushed, Mel knew instinctively he
hadn’t already been drinking. “No, not at all,” she replied as Jack
shot her a warning glance. Ignoring him, walking back behind the bar,
she said, “What can I get you?”
“A glass of Red wine, the best you have will suit me fine.” he
wiped at his brow with a white linen handkerchief. Mel eyed him
with a bit of concern for a moment then went to get his drink.
“You’re not from around here are you?” said Jack.
“No, I am visiting some friends that live in the area. That’s
why I thought it was too late; my friends said that the bars close
early here on week nights.” He looked Jack in the eyes then and
added, “I am sorry if I'm keeping you.” He glanced then to Melanie as she
brought his wine. He then laid out a twenty and downed the glass in
one without ceremony. “If I may have just one more of those I’ll
trouble you no more.”
“Nonsense,” have as many as you like.” Or need, she thought
to herself. “It will take me a bit longer before I’m ready to lock up
anyway. But, as for Jack, he was just on his way out, weren’t
you Jack?” She smiled, feigning innocence.
“Ah, well, I guess I am at that.” he said, then added as he
headed for the door, “Mind that promise, me lass, 'bout takin’ the
cab.” And with that he was gone. She shook her head, smiling.
“Your Father?” said the stranger.
“No, just a dear friend who worries too much.” she replied.
“But as the owner, you think he’d remember, business is business,
after all.”
“He has cause to worry these days.” he said.
“Has something new happened or is that a general statement of life
in the city?” She laughed. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long
time now. I’ll be safe enough.”
Yes, he thought to himself, at least tonight you will. “So, not
married then?” he said aloud, realizing immediately how bad that must
sound to a barmaid. “I’m sorry, you must think I’m a fool. That
wasn’t a line, really.”
“It’s OK, really. I knew it wasn’t.” she replied, smiling. “I
asked for it with that obvious lead, which, by the way, wasn’t
meant the way it sounded either. Let’s start again, K? I’m Melanie,
Mel, to my friends and what I meant was, just that I have been in
this line of work a long time and have had to learn to take care of
myself.”
“Ah, I see. Rough patrons?” Now, he cocked
a sarcastic grin as he made a show of looking around the empty
tavern. “Peter.”
Feigning indignance, she rallied, “Well, Peter, I’ll have you
know we are not always this slow. Yes,” she said to the smirk on his
face, “sometimes we have ten or twenty in here, all at once.” She
was rewarded with laughter. “Good to see you’re feeling better. You
looked a bit flushed when you first came in.”
“And I look better now?” he asked.
"Yes, you do." and she smiled.
He had often wondered why people
he encountered so soon after a kill never seemed to notice. But, he
mused, people in modern day America seemed to notice little. He
almost missed the excitement of Europe. People there, at least,
always noticed. Perhaps they had a sixth sense for the peculiar. After
a kill the new blood always heated his own. His face became warm
to the touch and flushed red in appearance. And, he had hardly exerted
himself; after a short walk from the alley, he had gone back
to the empty husk of a youth who lay in shadow there. After emptying the boy's pockets, he opened
the cellar door in that shadow and dropped the body into it. Hardly a
feat of strength, really. Funny how the human body’s dead weight was
almost null when the fluid were no longer present.
“Deep thoughts?” Mel asked in a bantering tone.
“Ah.. no, just been a long night I guess. I suppose I should get
going.” He said, looking at the clock which said 2:15AM. Following
his gaze, she agreed, “Yes, I do have to close now. But, come back
again, earlier next time, and maybe you'll get to see the place
when it’s a tad busier.”
“I prefer it like this actually. I like the quiet.” He said, noting
her surprise.
“Now, that does mark you as an ‘out of towner.’ The natives
here act like they’re all starved for a bit of excitement.” She shook
her head. “Go figure.”
Laying a five dollar bill on the bar, he turned and headed for
the door. “I’ll stop in again. It was nice talking to you.” he said,
doubting he’d really come back. It was not good to hunt the
same area more than once.
“It was nice talking to you too, come back anytime, I am
usually here.” said Mel, as he left. Hmm, she thought, not bad. Then
shook her head. Yeah, just what I need, a new distraction. She didn’t
think so. Looking around the bar to see what else needed doing,
seeing only one dirty ashtray. She scooped up the five and put it in
her purse. The tip glass had remained empty all night, so it was the
only one to take home tonight. Then, she emptied the register and
counted out the cash Jack would need when he opened.
Odd, one of the twenties had a message written on it: have a
brewski on me, Ry-bone. Funny she hadn’t noticed that before.
Strange nick name, Ry-bone. Into the bag it went without a second
thought. People often wrote on money these days.
Within minutes, she was done and locking the front door on her
way out. She thought of Jack then, “Sorry Jack, forgot about the
cab, oops.” It was a warm night and the short walk would be
much more practical then spending her only tip on a cab. Besides, old
habits were hard to break. She thought about Peter as she
walked; wondered briefly if he would come back. Odd how
people said they had enjoyed talking to one another after a whole ten
minutes. Well, she had all politess aside. It suddenly
occurred to her that their eyes had never met. It wasn’t a big deal,
really, but she had always believed that you could not judge a man’s nature, nor a woman's, unless you made eye contact. But, in her line of
work, so many wanted to remain anonymous for one reason or another.
No big surprise there either; car accident? really officer? Was that
man in here tonight? I don't recall...? Well, times had changed in the bar business and
people had been forced to change with it.
Peter. She liked the name, biblical reference definitely
not-with-standing. Peter, hmmm definitely has a nice ring to it.
She laughed out loud then, said, “That’s it, I am definitely losing
it!”
Peter watched from the shadows as he followed along behind
the barmaid. He could not have said why he followed her. He
smiled when something in her thoughts made her laugh and talk to
herself. For some reason, he suddenly realized, he hoped it had
something to do with him. Odd, why should I care? But, he
did and so he kept following until she had reached her building and
went inside.
Watching the windows for lights, he spied what must be her flat
on the second floor. The building was an unimpressive red brick,
contemporary by American standards, he supposed. There were, of
course, two entrances as in all American apartment buildings and so
he made his way to the back door. The lock snapped easily when he
pulled on the long steel handle. The deadbolt worked fairly well when
employed to keep out the living, as for the undead, well... He found
them amusing, in any case.
The first floor was deserted as he made his way silently up the
stairs. There were only eight apartments, four to each level. He found
her door easily and stood, silently, listening.
Mel’s cat rubbed against her legs verbalizing his complaint that
she had been away too long and he, without food. She stooped to pet
him affectionately, “I know Oscar, poor baby. I’m here now and yes,
I’ll feed you.” The cat responded as always, leaving her to move
closer to his dish. He was the ugliest cat she had ever seen. His fur
was many different lengths, sticking out in all directions and he never,
looked clean. She thought his appearance must be the ‘punk-grunge’
look for cats. Besides, it had been the very thing that caused her
to bring him home; she had felt sorry for him.
After feeding the cat she changed into a long sleep-shirt and sat
in the big chair beside her bed, stereo remote in hand. She switched
on her favorite after work music, soft and full of meaning lyric that
she had long since stopped paying any attention to, then picked up
her book. Before she opened it, her mind threw up one last attempt to
remind her of Peter. She shook her head, refusing to give in. She
opened her book and quickly, all of life’s mundane reality seemed to
fall away. She was so into the book and its own little world that she
never noticed her cat meowing and hissing loudly over the music as it
stood pawing at her apartment door.
Peter smiled. She lived alone, just as he had suspected. Now, he
realized he was glad that she did. He sent a mental command to the
cat lest he be found out. He could feel its presence as it backed
away from the door and added silently, It’s alright, Oscar. We are
going to become friends, you and I, you’ll see.
Now that he knew what he needed to know, it was time to
move on. The sun would be creeping over the horizon in a few
hours.
Melanie jolted awake to the sound of howling, then, sirens. They were
very close when they stopped, too close. What the hell? She
got up and dressed quickly.
When she arrived at the scene she saw a crowd had already
gathered. A stretcher, with a body in a closed bag, was being brought out of one of the old brownstone's. Looking around, she spotted the coroners car, clearly
marked with its magnetic sign. She felt a chill run up her spine. Tearing her gaze away from the car, she asked the nearest neighbor, “What happened?”
“Ryan Emerson, found ‘im dead in the celler of Al and Sally’s
place. Don’t know what happened yet; nobody’s talkin.’ Prob’ly drugs,
you know how kids are t’day.” The neighbor turned, eyeing her up
and down, “Who’re you?”
“Oh, sorry, I’m Melanie Richardson. I live about five blocks
from here.” The neighbor didn’t offer a name and she didn’t ask.
“Thing that’s buggin’ me, why was he in Al’s cellar? makes no
sense.”
Suddenly, not knowing why, Melanie wanted to be as far away
from here as possible. Home was not far enough so she headed for
the bar. Jack would be there, she knew. She had need of his
friendship today.
When she walked in she nearly didn’t recognize the place;
busier than she’d ever seen it, there were people standing for lack of
stool or table. They were all talking about the scene down the road,
some voices were angry.
“...he was murdered in cold blood, I say and we need to
do something! The damn cops are useless I tell you...”
“..and only twelve years old..”
....and a knife in his gut, but there was no blood anywhere. They say
he was killed somewheres else then. ..all too creepy if you ask
me.”
“His Mother, the poor woman, she was at work when she got
the news, I don’t think they found his Father yet, on a plane coming
back from a business trip I heard.”
Mel stood still as she heard all these things, seemingly at once,
and again, a chill ran up her spine. She walked by there every night
and never thought a killer might be lurking in the dark. Just when
she thought her kness would give out, Jack was there and guiding her
to the only chair behind the bar. “You alright, lass?” When she
nodded he went to get her a drink which she drank gratefully, not
even caring that it was whiskey; Jack seemed to think of whiskey as
the Amer-Irish equivalent of chicken soup. “You still look a might too
pale, me lass.”
“I’m Ok now. You better get back to the boys, they seem to be
pretty thirsty.” she said, putting on a ‘I’m Ok smile’ she didn’t really
feel.
“I’ll be back, and you stay there! Anna’s on her way
down to help. You look awful,” he continued as he tapped another
mug of beer for the nearest in need. “I told ye, didn’t I then? You
be takin’ my advice about not walkin’ at night now, aye Lass?” When
she didn’t offer an argument, he frowned in worry once again.
Mel was staring blankly at the backbar thinking, wondering,
what the hell? Why is this getting to me? Because, she answered
the voice in her head, you walk by there every night. It wasn’t
that and she knew it but was not ready to address the
nameless fear lurking in her subconscious. She wished Peter were
here, he’d know just the right thing to say.
Odd, she’d only known him, what, a week? Still, he always
seemed to know just what to say, no matter the crisis. She had
watched him with her customers each time he’d stopped in; he was a
natural with people. He was kind and compassionate but above all, a
good listener. More than that; in the short time she’s known him, he
had become, to her, a comfort. a hand materialized from nowhere,
waving in front of her eyes.
Anna Marie was smiling as she said, “A penny for your
thoughts?”
“Anna, hi, I was just thinking.” she blushed.
“Ah, a man is it? From your smile I had thought as much.
Better that than the hoorah of this rabble. Come in back with me a
moment while I make some coffee.” she said, taking Mel’s hand.
“Jack is very worried about you. I can’t remember when I have seen
him so worried. You are very much the daughter he never had. And,
now, with the news of this young man’s murder, he is going to be a
sqawking mother hen.” She beamed a proud smile. “I would have
come sooner but the news was just on as I grabbed my things and it
does not sound good at all.
“Do they have any clue to who killed him, a gang?” asked
Melanie.
“They said he was not connected to those types at all. It seems
he was sneaking out to see his girlfriend. When he didn’t come the
girl had returned home to wait for his phone call. The next day his
mother called to ask if she might know where he had run off to, and
again she called the next day the police were called to look for him.
The police of course, thought he had run away from home and were
not much help.”
“How long was he there in that cellar? I heard a week and then
someone said there was no blood so he must have died somewhere
else.” Mel was hating trying to sort out bar-gossip but, so far, it was
all she had to go on. That and the lingering memory of the coroner’s
car. For some reason, that image would not go away, nor would it be
any less chilling than when she had first seen it.
Anna, pouring them each a cup of steaming coffee, sat facing
Melanie over the folding table they kept in the back. The steam rose
to Mel’s face, tingling on her cheeks, flushed from the whiskey.
Anna’s face became more serious as she laid a hand over one of
Melanie’s. “I don’t want to frighten you more than you are already
but there is something I must tell you, Child.” Again, a chill raised
goosbumps up and down Mel’s flesh.
“When I was a child, in Hungary, there was many a strange
killing but the strangest of them all always seemed to be one just like
this: a silver knife in the gut of one with no blood anywhere.
Coincidence? Perhaps. But, Child, you must take care. There are
things” she said, her gaze unfocused, “dread things that walk in the
shadows.” She returned her gaze to the young woman before her. She
had intended to tell her everything, but then realized just how
ridiculous it would sound to this modern American woman. She
wasn’t even sure anymore if she believed it but...that boy. Well, she
would wait. Melanie looked frightened enough for one day. The old
stories would keep; they had survived in her memory all her life.
“My point is this, my dear, simply that you should take more
care leaving this place at night. I am sure that we’ve not heard the
last of the talk about all this out there,” she gestured toward
the barroom. “but hopefully there will be no others.”
“Others?” Melanie didn’t think the woman was, herself,
convinced. “Well, if someone did dump his body here, likely they
won’t be coming back this way. Still, I think I will start taking a cab
at night.” she said, “For a while anyway.” she added.
“That makes me feel much better.” said Anna, smiling, “that is
what I wanted to hear. Now, I best get to work out there and you
will likely need some sleep yet. I would guess you will be busy up
until the last hour tonight.”
Reluctantly, Melanie made her way back to her apartment. Many
things assailed her thoughts: how she was not likely goin to sleep
with a killer loose in her own neighborhood; wondering if Peter had
received her message; the clear memory of the Coroner’s car and the
chill she still felt when thinking about it. At least it was gone when
she made her way past the alley, though the police were still
there.
A few people were still milling about pestering them with more
questions. She supposed some of these were just interested because it
was something exciting to them, while others just wanted to know as
much as possible so they could rationalize it was not going to happen to
them; get enough details and then reason that there was something
the youth had done to provoke the attack.
When Mel reached her apartment the phone was ringing. She took the
last of the stairs at a run, panting, she picked it up, “Yes?,
hello?”
“Melanie? Are you all right? I am sitting here watching the
news and is that not your neighborhood?” said Peter, as he smiled a
crooked, secret smile.
“Yes, Peter, I’m so glad it’s you...I...I. could you come over?”
she pleaded, hating the weakness she heard in her our voice.
Glancing toward the bright sunlit window outside his dark room,
that, he thought, will be an adventure. “I have an appointment
for a job on this side of town in about an hour but I will try to
come after that.
“Oh good,” she sighed. Sinking low into her couch, her
breathing steadier, she asked, “What are the news people saying?”
“That a young man was murdered in an old brownstone
basement. They are not giving his name but there was a few location
shots of your neighborhood.” he replied.
“Yeah,” she said, “that’s what they usually do till the family
has been told at least. No speculation on who did it or why?”
“No, is there something else, about this boy perhaps?” he added,
doubting there was.
“No,” she said, “I stopped in to see Jack and the bar was full
of people, all with different ideas.”
“Ah, I see. At least your friend Jack will have business, though
I know that is not how he would wish to come by it.”
“Jack is so busy, he’s likely not had a moment to think about
it. Anna, well she’s behaving strange.” more so than usual, she
thought suddenly.
“I am not surprised. Something like this can have quite an
impact on people. A disparate neighborhood can become like a close
family after, or a mob, or even worse, more suspicious of one
another. Whatever the outcome it is you that concerns me, Melanie.
Are you all right?”
“I’ll be all right, most especially since you might come by. I
am glad I gave you a key. I really will feel better if the door is
locked.” Putting words to action, she rose from the couch and locked
the door.
“I will try to be there soon, m’love. And now, I should think
you should sleep if you are working tonight?” he said.
“I know, I will try but somehow I doubt I can.”
“What, no valium? A modern woman like you?” they both
laughed. Then he added, “I will be there as soon as I can.” Still, he
noted with chagrin, the noonday sun was blazing in the window
beyond his door.
Keeping his eyes on that window, he raised his arms up and
called in a deep voice in the old tongue, “WIND!!!” this he chanted
aloud three times before lowering his arms to wait. He then sat on
the edge of the bed in his darkened room, concentrating on the high
winds and the storm he could sense, miles to the west. He continued
to watch the window as he repeated the chant in his mind, with all
his heart and soul. It was nearly forty minutes later that the clouds
began to lessen the light that streamed into the room beyond, another
twenty before it obscured it entirely. He smiled. He was also
exhausted.
Taking time to gather a deep breath to steady himself, he
grabbed his rain smock and went out to hail a cab for the east side.
His strength was weak at best by day but he was not to keep his
Lady waiting. In the cab, he tried to reflect on why he was still
toying with this woman-girl. She was fresh and yes, very lovely but
many had been that and more. No, there was more to his motive than
toying with a potential victim. Love? Hardly that, love was something
mortals struggled with. A friend? That was something he envied in
mortals, that undying lotalty that he had never experienced. He had
had undying loyalty but only from a conquered race beneath his boot
as a leader of men but he knew that was not the same at all. He had
to ask himself, was he getting lonely like his brethren of so long ago,
those who even together in vast numbers felt alone? Now, they were
no more and he was truly alone amongst the vast horde of mortals.
After two and a half centuries, was that it?
“Hey, lady...” “Marion,” she offered. “right, Marion,” said patrolman
Deitrich, “could you get her out of here, we have work to do and..”
he hesitated before adding, “it will be harder for her if she stays.”
Marion nodded and helped another policeman lead the distraught
mother from the room. Shaking his head, he said to his sergeant,
“Another one, just like the others; no blood, no apparent struggle and
that damn ‘happy look’ on her face.”
“Not just like the others, where are your eyes?” replied sergeant
Menot.
“Oh,” said Deitrich, “no knife this time. Either our perp has
made his first mistake or..”
“Don’t even think it!” said Menot. “Two guys like this and
we’re done. It’s bad enough that we aren’t even on the same page as
this goon.”
“Still think it’s a medical specialist type gone around the bend
thinking he’s a vampire?” asked Deitrich. Better that, a rational
explanation, than the outrageous alternative.
Bending to examine the body, Menot said aloud, “No bite on the
neck with this one, hmm.” After a moment, “Ah, there. He’s getting
creative now; great.” pointing at the inner thigh. “femoral artery I
suspect. Gina will be more certain. She on her way?”
“Yes, got her on her cell phone from the living room.”
“Meanwhile, let’s get what we can from the live ones, shall
we?” Menot spared a last glance at the victim, thinking, not for the
first time, how inhumane it is to leave her lying there uncovered and
exposed. Deep in the cellar of the abandoned church, two blocks away, the
vampyre rested in the deep cold of his death-like sleep. His last
thought before dawn broke was the sharp, sweet, intoxicating taste of
his last meal. Would that they all tasted as lovely as she, but, they
could not; for cattle, they were as individual as a snowflake or the
leave of a tree. But how he enjoyed finding a sweet one, he had
smiled. Unlike his brother, his smile was not filled with an aching
sadness but a cold hearted killer’s sense of true, god-like superiority.
Oh, it was so good to be bad, thought he. Then, the dawn had come
turning him cold as true death might, were it able. And, he slept,
blissfully uncaring for those he had fed on. Secretly hoping to catch
up with his long lost and lonely brother, the brother who believed him dead
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