“Uh... Hi, boys...” he replied, smiling slightly.
“Charlie, is that you?” Red asked, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
“I... I think so. Why?”
“You don’t smell like you at all... You smell...” Dan began.
“Human,” Red finished, eyes narrowing.
“Well, yeah... Apparently,” Charles replied.
“The witch, huh?”
“Looks that way.” Charles rocked back and forth on his feet, not sure where that sudden mannerism had some from.
“Well, that sucks.”
“Sure does.”
“So, why are you here?” Red asked.
“Well... I... I could do with a feed...” Charles said uncertainly.
“You’re human, Charlie, you don’t need to feed.”
“I can try...”
Charles saw Red look around. “Look, Charlie...” Red began.
“Oh, come on, Red.” Charles cringed inwardly at his pleading tone.
“You don’t have any fangs, Charlie... How are you going to feed?”
“I could... What if you bite someone...? And then I can feed?”
“I don’t know, Charlie...”
“Oh, come on, Red. Let him try,” Tim said. Charles looked at him and saw him smiling. Charles would have sworn that he looked spiteful.
Red stared at Charles and Charles stared right back at Red. All Charles could think about was blood. Human food was boring and tasteless, and had absolutely nothing on the sweet taste of blood and the warm, comforting feeling it gave him as it slid down his throat.
Charles heard Red laugh. “I hear your heart beating faster, Charlie-boy; you’re thirsty aren’t you? Can’t quite get the taste of blood off your mind? All right, you can come and feed with us, but I can’t guarantee it’ll be satisfying.”
“What do you mean?” Charles asked, unable to stop thinking about the taste of blood now.
“Come on, Charlie, we’re going back to that bar we found your witch last night,” Red said, and Charles and the others followed him to the bar.
As they walked, Charles looked around at the night. He noticed that it was not quite as bright as usual. The stars did not shine as brightly, nor did the moon. It also did not smell right; the night did not smell as sweet or as crisp. Nor did it sound right; he could not hear the normal sounds as well as he usually could, not the small night creatures scuttling around, not the birds flying overhead. It all felt wrong to him and he shivered involuntarily.
“What’s the matter, Charlie?” Red asked. Charles heard the sneer in his voice. Now that he was no longer vampire, Red was not as intimidated by him as he used to be…not that he was surprised. “The night not quite as inviting as it used to be?”
Charles smiled as he answered, “not at all, Red. This stupid human body is merely cold.”
His body was not cold enough to shiver at least. Red knew him far better than he would have liked; the night was not as inviting as it used to be. It was exactly the description Charles had looked for and failed to find. He felt his stomach plummet as he made this realisation.
In every respect, he still felt like a vampire…on the inside. But, on the outside, he was truly human; he could no longer see or smell or hear as well as he used to, others could tell he was no longer himself, and even the night had disowned him.
Charles followed the vampires into the alleyway, feeling rather dejected at the turn his life had taken. He just hoped the blood would make him feel better. In the past, blood was the only thing that could ever settle his nerves.
He relaxed as he remembered that warm, comforting feeling again, and smiled. He looked about him and noticed that the alleyway was most definitely less inviting than it had been the night before, and indeed any previous night he had been there.
“All right, this is going to be difficult enough with you being…as you are, Charlie,” Red said, turning around at the door to the nightclub. “I’ll go in with Dan and we’ll remind some nice young lady that she would quite like to come outside with us.” He grinned, looking almost diabolical to Charles.
“Okay, we’ll wait here,” Tim said. Peter nodded, lighting up a cigarette.
“All right,” Charles breathed, feeling his heart rate increase in anticipation of the feed.
Damn heart, he though, getting in the way of everything.
He sure had not missed that aspect of living all these years. How he ever managed to get by in his first years of life he did not know. With the beating and the slowing and the accelerating… It was distracting and uncomfortable.
“So, Charlie…” Peter whispered. Charles looked at him and he must have taken it as an invitation to continue. “What’s it like?”
“What is what like, Peter?” Charles replied with a sigh.
“Being human again.” He could sense a slight hint of jealousy behind the mocking.
“It is…uh…different. I cannot say I remember much about the first time around, but there are quite a few things going on that are really not comfortable.” Charles rubbed his chest.
“Heartbeat, huh?” Tim asked.
“More or less,” Charles nodded. “Sight’s decreased, smell’s decreased, hearing’s decreased…” Charles sighed. “The only thing that seems to have increased is the noise that goes on inside this accursed body.”
Tim and Peter chuckled. “That’s what you get for feeding off a witch, Charlie; we did warn you.”
“Yes, yes. I know.” Charles hoped that would put an end to their ‘I told you so's’.
“I suppose it’s no worse than what the last one did to you,” Peter said.
“I don’t know,” Tim said before Charles had a chance to reply, “would you rather be a human or be sick?”
“I guess that’s a good point, although he was very sick last time,” Peter chuckled.
“How would you know? You weren’t even there!”
“Neither were you!”
“Gentlemen!” Charles interrupted. “Neither of you were there, and in fact neither of you had even been born yet. However, while the last time was more uncomfortable… At least it was not so…against my nature…”
“Charlie, don’t look so glum,” he heard Red say and he turned around to look at the vampire. He was directing a young blonde girl out of the nightclub’s door. “See, we bring you dinner.”
Charles saw that Red or Dan had already tasted her. He sniffed and could barely distinguish the smell of her blood. In fact, if he had not been a vampire for so many years, he would probably not be able to discern the smell of her blood from every other smell in that dank alleyway. He tried to concentrate and sniffed again. This time, though his head throbbed and swam, he could better recognise her smell, and it made him drool slightly. Hoping no one noticed, he wiped the corner of his mouth.
“Come on, Charlie, quick feed and then we can send her on her way.”
Part of Charles tensed up in high anticipation, but he was glad that Red would not insist on killing her. It was the last of the three nights of the full moon and Red occasionally got carried away all three nights. Charles suspected Red would expect him to go home after this, and he would then be able to do whatever he wanted without Charles there to keep him under some semblance of control.
Charles stepped up to the young girl. He saw her chest rise and fall quickly as she took short breaths. His sense of smell was hazy again and his hearing did not help; he could pick up random heartbeats, but even then he was unsure which were hers and which were his.
Red held the girl as Charles put his mouth over the bite marks. Immediately, the blood flowed into his mouth. It was a lot saltier than he remembered, but after a few moments it tasted more like he expected. He drank deeply from her and relished the taste. As he drank his head felt lighter and throbbed again.
Suddenly, his head cleared and the blood in his mouth tasted like some kind of dirt-flavoured syrup, tangy and metallic. He pulled ba
ck from the girl, spitting the blood out. He felt like he was going to gag, his stomach felt all hot, and his heart fluttered.
“Charlie-boy, what’s the matter?” Red smiled.
“Ugh, I don’t know.” Charles bent over and held his stomach. It felt like boiling oil was making tidal waves in there.
Charles put a hand on the wall to hold himself up and threw up all over his shoes. Blood flowed over his shoes like a torrential river. He heard Red cough as he tried to stifle a laugh.
“What?” Charles asked, far more weakly that he had intended.
“Methinks your human stomach doesn’t really having all that blood in it,” Red said, putting his hand on Charles’ back.
Charles pushed his hand away and stood up. Dan, Tim, Peter, and Red all laughed openly at him. The girl groaned drunkenly and giggled. Charles watched as she made for the nightclub door.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa...” Red laughed, grabbing the back of her dress. “Can’t let you go like that.”
Charles watched Red wipe her neck with his hanky and lean close to her, looking at her neck. He watched as the holes closed up. The girl shook her head to clear it and Red let her leave. Charles wiped his mouth on his sleeve and turned away.
“Charles, wait,” Red called.
Charles took a deep breath before he turned back.
“What?”
He saw the look of pity of Red’s face and knew the big vampire only let it show because the others were behind him.
“There’s not much point you coming round anymore, mate,” Red said simply.
His facial expression told Charles much more. It was not for nothing that Red and Charles had known each other for so long. Charles knew all Red’s bluster was a thing recently invented. If you can call one hundred years recent.
“No, no. I understand. Boys... It has been a pleasure,” Charles said. He stepped forward, briskly shook Red’s hand and turned for home. Or rather, his human home.
Charles walked with a heavy heart, something he would never have thought he would have described himself as having ever again. His shoes scuffed the pavement and he kept his hands deep in his pockets. Halfway to Mary and Arthur’s, Charles decided he would see what had happened to his old home.
He backtracked for a while and came upon the apartment building where his basement apartment was. He looked at the list of tenants on the front door. Not only was his name no longer there, the button for his apartment was no longer there either. A man came out of the building.
“Um...excuse me,” Charles called.
“Yes, young man?”
“The basement in this building... Is there an apartment there?”
“No, son, it’s the laundry room. Why do you ask?”
Charles tried to laugh as if it did not matter. “Oh, nothing. I must have the wrong building. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” The man smiled and walked away.
Charles turned around again and scuffed his way back to his human parents. It was obviously the only home the witch had deigned to give him. He was beginning to think that having someone to go home to – wherever it was he was coming from – might not be such a bad thing after all.
****
Charles woke up the next morning not feeling any better than he had the day before. He did not feel like getting up at all, so he decided he would not. When his ‘mother’ came in, he rolled over and groaned.
“Oh sweetie, what’s the matter?” Mary asked him.
“Ugh, I don’t feel well,” Charles replied, trying to sound as feeble as he could. He was surprised by how little he had to pretend. Obviously, that blood had not agreed with him on more than one level.
“In what way not well?”
“I don’t know, just not well...” Charles replied. What else was he going to say? ‘Sorry, Mum, went out and drank a stomach-full of blood last night and it seems that it doesn’t suit me anymore. Oh, by the way, I used to be a vampire!’
Mary put the back of her hand to Charles’ forehead. “Hmm... You are a bit hot dear.” Mary sat on the bed next to Charles.
He rolled over to face her and she put her hand on his side, looking at him with a very tender, motherly look on her face. Something in Charles responded to it, but it was foreign and he tried to ignore it.
“Do you want me to get you some soup, darling?” Mary asked.
Charles’ empty stomach roiled at the thought of more human food but, since blood was not going to work, human food would have to do. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
“All right, Mum will be back with some soup in a little bit. Do you want me to stay home today?” Mary patted him on the shoulder as she got up.
“No, thanks, I’ll be fine. I think I’ll just stay in bed,” Charles said.
“All right, well if you need me, just give me a call. I might give you a ring and check on you at lunch, okay?”
Charles nodded again.
“Okay. Well, you rest and I’ll be back in a little bit.”
She left him to himself and he snuggled back down under the covers. He felt absolutely wretched.
Part of him – a very large part of him, actually – hoped the witch who cursed him could see him now and was getting some kind of satisfaction from his wretchedness. He was very inclined to think that someone ought to be benefitting from this situation and, since he was quite sure that it was not him, it had better be her.
He mumbled incoherently to himself and went back to sleep. When he woke, he saw that Mary had put a bowl of soup and some milk next to his bed. He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. There was a poster of some band taped to the ceiling that he had not noticed the day before. A sudden urge to redecorate overtook him and he sat up quickly. Regretting the movement instantly, he put his hand to his head and lay back down again, grumbling.
He lay there for a while longer, trying not to think about anything. Especially not about his old life. Especially not about blood and the way the thought of it still made his heart race and his mouth water. His senses were still reeling, fading in and out of focus. He heard voices and animals from streets away one minute, and then nothing but his own breathing the next. He smelled the breeze outside the closed window for a moment, and then nothing but the air inside his room. His vision was fine, but then he did not look at anything at distance. He still had not tested his speed, but he doubted he still had it and really did not have the strength to fail at anything else.
He could not muster one ounce of energy or inclination to get out of bed. Through the haze of misery, he was at least pleased that the bed was comfortable. True, it was not as comfortable as the bed he had had in his apartment, but it was comfortable enough that he would not be opposed to staying there all day. He felt a small smile spread across his face at the thought of staying in bed all day. It would almost be like going back to the good old days when his senses did not go crazy, he could drink blood without being sick, and his stupid human body did not need human food that made him feel sick.
****
Four days later, he was still in bed. Mary had been in and out, ferrying soup to and from his bedside. She sometimes sat by his bed, and sometimes Arthur would stand in the doorway and look at him. He sometimes watched them from under his eyelids, wondering how long they would stay. In those moments, he almost remembered what it was to be part of family, and to be loved and cared for. In those moments, he almost remembered a lifetime of them caring for him.
Charles was very happy to continue lying there. His mind swam with visions of his past, of nights filled with blood and women, of ale and drunken brawls with Red and whoever else they found themselves spending their time with throughout the years. He smiled through his stupor as he remembered those fond times. His stomach swam and his mouth watered for blood.
At times, he thought he could taste blood in the soup Mary brought him. At other times, the soup tasted like ash in his mouth. Sometimes, he had to pull himself to the bat
hroom and empty his stomach of the little he managed to put in it. Other times, the soup sat in his stomach like lead.
He had memories of Mary holding a wet cloth to his head while he shivered and sweated. He had memories of deep, healing sleep, and of fitful dream-filled sleep. He thought he heard Mary and Arthur talking about taking him to a hospital, and he had tried to talk them out of it, but the words just would not come out of his mouth properly, and only served to bring Mary closer.
He tried to lunge at Mary’s neck, but he was too weak to make it and she threw her arms around him, sobbing. His heart wrenched with guilt at what he had tried to do and he fell back onto the pillows.
On the fifth day of what he had initially planned to be a one-day, self-imposed rest, his mind cleared and he shivered less. He managed to keep one serving of soup in his stomach and it sat more easily once it got there. Dare he say it, it actually tasted…good…
On the sixth day, he could sit up and did not need to empty his stomach once. Mary sat with him for a while and talked to him.
“How are you feeling, Charlie?”
“Not too bad now. How long has it been?” He pulled the blankets up around his neck.
“Almost a week; but you’ve improved quickly the last day or so,” she said, patting his leg.
“When’s dinner?”
“Soon, why?”
“I thought I might come down to the table, if that’s okay?” Charles answered.
Mary smiled, looking surprised. “Of course, darling. Do you feel strong enough?”
Charles nodded.
He used to have all the strength in the world and now he was as weak as a...human.
Chapter Four
T
wo days later, it was as if he was never sick.
He stood in front of the mirror and stared at himself. His skin was pasty white, which was no real change. His teeth were all flat and his eyes were dull. He had lost weight over the past week, but he was still not very hungry.
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