by Virgil Moore
The lead lawyer only looked at a few cases to sample what he had done. He had completed two hundred and nineteen cases in two nights of work. He was immediately awarded a medal for best new hire of the year.
When asked by the chairman lawyer if he wanted a new office, he replied, “I’m quite comfortable where I am thank you. But could I have a chair?” the man laughed and actually gave him his personal desk chair.
He had instantly gained the faith of his fellows and the admiration of his peers in the city. The two hundred cases he closed affected a great deal of people. He became the ‘go-to’ man in the tax industry.
By 1949, he was asked to take a semi-permanent position in Cuba to do taxes for the vacationing Americans that didn’t want to stop partying until after tax season. It was only going to be a five year assignment but he requested two things at his new job. That it would be an office room with no windows and that he would be able to travel to another foreign position immediately following his time in Cuba. He had gained enough clout to ask for much more and didn’t.
The chairman told him that if he was going to specify working conditions, he would have to stay for ten years instead. He agreed and took the next boat to Cuba. He was supposed to be thirty at the time he left the states and knew his young age was going to be a problem for him eventually. The foreign assignment was a way to hide what he really was.
He spent the next ten years in Cuba. In the firm’s eyes he was now forty. To the Cubans that had come to know him, he was thirty five. He didn’t make friends, only acquaintances through work. He kept to himself other than killing a few local thugs and rural goats that he happened to come across in the country side during his nightly excursions. Despite his time in the region, he didn’t pick up any Spanish. He got along with gestures and smiles. With the majority of his clients all speaking English, he didn’t have much to worry about. At the end of his assignment, his firm found him a position in Madrid, Spain, a location that he found very appealing. He liked the idea that he could feign away from interpersonal relations in almost any situation by not speaking the language.
By 1969, he was supposed to be in his mid-fifties. Though he forever remained a twenty five year old. The Spaniards there thought he was a young looking thirty five year old. His age had become a creeping problem when it came to the law firm. He thought of another location in which to hide. He was going to move out to Russia. He lived with communism in Cuba and thought it might be somehow similar, but with a different accent that he didn’t understand. Unfortunately, his plans were interrupted.
Chapter Fifty Eight
Another Unwelcome Change
One night, a man from Del’s past came to Spain knocking on his office door. He had already made the request to be transferred to Russia later that month and was in the middle of packing.
“Is Del Marin here?” a man in his late forties called out from behind his closed door. “It’s Ed Fisher.”
“Coming,” he said calmly.
His speed had increased steadily over his years of drinking blood. He sat at his desk when he spoke. By the time he had closed his mouth he stood looking through the peep hole at this older man, Ed Fisher.
He opened the door. Ed appeared to be highly impatient. He was overweight and breathed heavily. He had changed greatly from the thin and athletic young man that once knocked on his door decades ago.
“Where’s Del Marin? I have a letter for him.” Ed was dressed in a nice, tailored tan suit.
He spoke without assessing the full situation. It was a mistake that he would later regret. “I’m Del Marin.” He hadn’t changed his style of suit for the last three decades. It was black and white with a red tie nearly identical to the one he received from Demy.
“You’re him?” a look of sudden confusion overcame Ed. “You are him, aren’t you?” he surveyed Del. “You’re Del Marin, our overseas tax lawyer.”
He was silent. He slowly walked back over to his desk and sat down.
“You’re him?” Ed asked.
He remained quiet. He played out the scenario in his head. This was about to end badly.
“You haven’t aged, not one day. Our records say you’re over fifty. Yet here you are in the same suit as the day you started.” Ed became angry. He breathed heavy. His health was not what it used to be.
He shivered. He never shivered. He was trembling with unease. He knew what he was about to do and what it meant to the rest of the life he had made for himself as a tax lawyer.
“What the hell are you?” Ed began to shout.
He understood exactly who Ed was, the same cocky lawyer that offered him the position at the law firm. He was the man that was nearly ten years younger than him. He stood as an old man now. It was a mirror into what Del had actually become. The blood had preserved him. It sustained him in a way that was unnatural. And the only man that had figured it out was Ed. He had to do something. He knew what was to come next. In a sudden rush of emotions, he acted.
He drove his entire right forearm through Ed. He moved forward with an unimaginable speed and pinned him to the far back door across the room. His hand pierced clean through to the other side. There was no blood, yet. He had struck Ed with such power that the pressure of his arm against the door prevented the wound from bleeding. Ed was still breathing, for now. Del’s fangs poked out from behind his lips as he watched his chest fall and rise.
“What are you? A vampire? What kind of freak are you Del?” Ed became weak. He slumped into unconsciousness after he spoke.
He stood quietly as he held Ed against the door. There was an uncertainty in him. It was a word he had never heard before, “vampire?”
Blood slowly poured down his arm. Ed was dead. He was a nearly forgotten rival from a long forgotten time. He wasn’t sure if he could have handled it any other way, but he was sure that he had made a mistake. He should have never spoken to Ed. He should have left the office and ran away. He removed his hand and Ed’s body fell to the ground. A small envelope bounced off the ground and landed at his feet. It was a Christmas card with a bonus check. Ed was there to shake the very hand that he was murdered by.
He hung his head low. Blood poured on to the ground and saturated the carpet. With this death, he knew there was no longer a place for him in Spain.
He struck a match that was normally used for the lantern at his desk. He let the match fall onto his desk, setting a blaze to the cramped office room.
He nonchalantly walked outside to the front of the small building. He would be able to fake his death and walk away to his new life in Russia. He knew he made a grave mistake killing Ed that night. He would have to return to a life of scavenging again. Somehow, the knowledge sat well. Deep down, he knew it was his fault. It was a punishment for his own actions. If he had prepared and analyzed the situation more, Ed would have returned to his family alive and he would still have a job. He blamed himself and searched for the nearest abandoned building at the east edge of town. The next night he was headed for Russia.
Chapter Fifty Nine
Being Alone With A Monster
Marin thought about the way he should answer Kyli, “I will for as long as I can.” his answer was cryptic, yet trustworthy. He was acting as if he was on stage. He was shy and timid all of a sudden.
Zack agreed to follow. He was led to a small hallway in the back, similar to the one that he entered through but on the opposite side. A black hall with a dark curtain that covered it. Marin lifted the passage. As the curtain fell into place, he stood next to Zack. There was a second hallway that went out to the full auditorium. It appeared to be barred up on the other end so that no one could access it from the stage. It was longer and had gray sound foam attached to the walls to dampen any noise made beyond that point. It seemed not to be used as much, almost abandoned. They walked in together. They were more than ten feet from the nearest person. They were alone. No one else could hear them from this point on.
; “Zack, you have a sharper wit than you let others perceive. I’m impressed,” Marin complemented him.
“I’m glad to see that someone noticed. Now let’s drop this act. I don’t like waiting,” he knew Marin wasn’t there to help him. He could feel it. But it wasn’t something he sensed from him, it was from her. He could feel the regret as she kissed him and let him go with Marin. He was going to die in that back room.
“I must apologize, Zack. I’m telling you the truth. I’ll keep you safe as long as I can. You’re special. And call me Marin, I’d like us to be friends,” he said sincerely.
“How would you know?” he was cautious.
“I have friends. You’ll live longer with them you know,” Marin was serious.
He stepped back. He could sense the power in the tiny room, “then why do I get the feeling you’re the one that’s going to kill me tonight?”
“Zack, you misunderstand. I simply am in a position to know what you are, who you really are. You are a newly virgined vampeal,” Marin put a hint of innuendo to his words. He tried to provoke Zack. He pried at his nature without so much as saying it.
He cleared his throat, “I’m not a vampeal.”
“You shouldn’t lie to me, Zack,” Marin said sternly.
“Then answer my question. Are you the one that’s going to kill me tonight?” he stood tall next to the overshadowing vampire.
“I might be,” Marin’s words rang in the silence.
He stood still and waited for Marin to explain.
“I never asked you to lie to me,” Marin exhaled. “But if you had tried that from the beginning, you’d already be dead.”
“You never asked me not to,” he quipped. He knew he was playing with his life. There was an excitement to it that even he didn’t understand. He pressed the issue, “You were the one that was hired to kill me.”
Marin narrowed the gap between them instantly, “you really are smarter than you realize.” He bore down on Zack, towering over him.
A streak of fear ran through his body suddenly, “I have to go.” He turned to the curtain and headed toward the party.
Marin planted his right arm on the wall and blocked his retreat. He had moved six feet in a flash. There was no sound, no movement to follow. There was no other sign of his action other than the fact he was already there. He knew what this was. He had seen it before. He had been a witness to this display of speed before. He knew, without a doubt that what stood before him was a vampire.
“You’re coming with me,” Marin told him forcefully.
“I can’t,” he pushed against Marin’s arm. It was immovable. It was as if he was pushing on steel.
“It was not a request,” Marin’s voice changed. It was deep. There was a grumble to it.
He didn’t argue. He agreed to the demand.
“You are smarter than the rest,” Marin said in a devilish manner.
He shuttered to think of the extent to which Marin was referring.
Marin took his wrist. Zack attempted to struggle. The grasp was iron. There was no fighting it. He guided him to a thin theater control room door in the hall. Its small silver door handle was the only thing that wasn’t covered in cobwebs.
Marin stood next to Zack. “A fair warning: don’t sweat. Stay calm and collected.”
Marin placed his hand on the silver ornate handle. It sizzled. The silver burned him. He opened the door and walked through with him in hand.
The other side held thirty people. Each person was more posh than the next. They looked at him with intrigue as the door began to close behind him. As he looked back he noticed a small amount of blood on the handle. It was Marin’s. It was boiling.
He walked through the dark room. There were ten tables with two to five people sitting at each. It was muted. A thick haze of cigar smoke hung low in the room as if it had been there for a long time. There were evening gowns and tuxedos, leather pants and snake skin canes. It was a strange mix. He made his way through the small maze of tables to where Marin sat down.
Marin greeted him with a raised glass of blood. One other person sat at the table. He was haggard and looked far older. His eyes were a light purple. It was something like an albino might have. But besides the obvious, they were normal they were nothing like David’s. Nothing like the rest of the people in the room. He wore a red and white fox pelt slung across his shoulders. He had short dirty blond hair with a broad jaw line and stunted nose. His face was riddled with old faded scars, most of which were so light they barely registered in the dim shadows of the room. He was very tall and looked ominous as he cracked a smile.
The stranger placed his hands palm down on the table and leaned forward, “you’re Mr. Giver,” he said with a Russian accent. He sat back in his chair and tipped it slightly off the front legs. He crossed his arms and put one leg up on the table. “You’re shorter than what Ellen mentioned, smaller too.” He glanced at Zack in disapproval. “Not fully turned? That’s good. That means we have some time.”
He looked at Marin as he stood before the table.
Marin turned to him and set his drink down.
“Come, sit,” the Russian man instructed with a gesture.
Marin nodded for him to follow the request.
He realized that the Russian wasn’t drinking any blood. His skin wasn’t even that pale. He appeared to be human or at least very well fed. He pulled out a chair and reluctantly sat.
The Russian’s smile disappeared, “Zack Michael Giver, you are not what you seem. You are not a simple creature. You deserve to die when this fiasco is concluded.”
Chapter Sixty
The Accusation
The Russian continued, “for now, there is information to be distilled from you that would not otherwise be made available to anyone. This is the only reason why you are still alive. So let us begin.”
Zack could feel the anticipation in this man. He felt the well of power within him. He sat in silence as he waited for the next action. He wasn’t about to provoke anyone rashly. He needed to play things calmly. He reached inside and took a deep breath. He heard a faint word at first. Then another. It said, “test them.”
Without any hesitation he spoke, “then why is it that you haven’t found that little nugget of truth yet? If what you said is true and you have the inclination to kill me, why haven’t you?”
Marin’s quiescent nature fought the creeping smile provoked by Zack’s brazing comment.
The stranger however, reacted differently. He fell back in his chair, right onto his butt. He was laughing, very loudly. He made a scene about it. Everyone stared and the room became quiet except for his booming laughter.
Marin helped him up. He was still laughing.
He held tight in his seat. He could feel his heart racing. He had made the right choice.
“Damn, child. You do have guts to say that here,” the man smiled wide.
He noticed the man’s fangs were long and pronounced, not short like Marin’s. He was a vampire.
“Zack,” Marin said sternly. “You will behave when making conversation with him.” He attempted to save face with the onlookers in the room.
He wanted to push the issue and regain control of the situation. He could feel a push within him that urged him to keep going. He took the cue, “then would ‘he’ please tell me his proper name so that I can address him adequately?” He knew he didn’t have to be so crass about asking. Something inside him wanted to be.
Bad move.
Marin’s hand snapped onto his throat in an instant from across the table. It squeezed tight. It was crushing his airway. He only leaned in toward him. It was as if he was reaching for a cup of sugar across the table. It was effortless.
He looked into Marin’s eyes. He didn’t let up. He pressed on his arm. It was iron again. There wasn’t a single sign of stress as he held him in place. No one around the table made a move. The clear struggle didn’t cause a second gl
ance from even the most bored in the room.
The air was running out. He was getting desperate. If he used all his new-found might he thought he might be able to shake off Marin’s hand. But he asked himself, to what end? If he forced his way out, the rest of the vampires would pounce before he got within ten feet of the door. There were more vampires the further he went. There was no way out. He was going to die, killed by his hopeful girlfriend’s favorite musician. He thought there had to be something he could do, something to stop Marin from squeezing his neck until his head popped off.
His gaze shifted to the other vampire. His vision drifted off as he lost consciousness. His eyes shut down. His mind wandered and then went black.
Chapter Sixty One
A World With Meaning
There was a plunge and Zack was immersed. The liquid was warm. It was still. He thrashed as he felt the substance coat his body. It was smoother than water. He opened his eyes. There was no light. He fought to get air. He gasped and struggled as fluid filled his lungs. It was blood, or at least close to blood. It was softer, wetter. It was something else. He broke the surface to a horizon of mist and a sea of what looked and felt like thin blood. There was no land he could see. He was in the middle of a large turbulent ocean covered by a thick gray fog that blocked the stars, or possibly the sun. There was no perception of day or night.
He screamed out, “Is anyone there!?” Again and again, he called. Moments passed as the feeling of loneliness began to set in.