“How long….” I started to say, but my throat closed. I coughed and tried again. “How long was I asleep this time?”
“Just a few hours,” Andi told me. “I had to wake you up so you could get that blood into you. If I had just let you sleep it would have been several days before your body was strong enough to rise again, and then you’d be so hungry you’d be completely out of control.”
It was the same night. I had only been asleep a few hours. Not that it really mattered, I realized. One hour, one day, or one year, I was still effectively an invalid in this bed.
Andi looked bright and refreshed in her tiny robe with her hair hanging wetly down her back; ready to throw on a little cocktail dress and spend a night on the town. I, on the other hand, felt like I had been run over by a truck towing toxic waste. And I probably looked worse than I felt.
“That blood will help you heal a little faster,” she said, standing up. Her robe had fallen open even further, she casually pulled it closed and gave the belt a little yank to tighten it. “I want you healthy, after all. When you leave here, you can go anywhere you want, and do anything you chose. I promise you will not have to see me or hear from me until I summon you again.”
With that statement, she turned and danced out of the room, practically skipping with excited energy. She pulled the door closed behind her.
I sighed deeply and closed my eyes. I let exhausted sleep take me down yet again into blessed oblivion. Darkness enveloped me with Andi’s last words ringing in my ears: until I summon you again.
CHAPTER 13
The next night I woke to an empty house. I rose to find my clothes left more or less neatly on the floor at the foot of the bed. There was a folded yellow piece of paper lying on top of them. It was a note from Andi telling me there was another bag of human blood in the kitchen refrigerator and that I should probably stay at the house one more night. She was not going to be coming back.
I didn’t want to stay in that house any longer than I had to, but I could still see the wisdom of not trying to leave too quickly. I was still weak and I did not think I would be capable of effectively taking care of myself if I tried to travel immediately. So I dressed and checked the refrigerator for the blood Andi had promised. I found there were actually three bags of blood inside. All human. I drank all three with barely a pause between bags.
I forced myself to stay two more days, letting myself heal and gain strength. On the fifth night I went outside, found my car where I parked it what felt like a lifetime ago, and I got the hell out of there.
As she had warned, Andi called me to her again one year later. And again the following year. The same irresistible pull touched me once a year, every year, usually in the early spring, and always it drew me to the same quiet house in Moreau, Louisiana. Each of our encounters ended identically, with Andi sated and me weak, defeated and cowering. I detested my helplessness, but I could see no way out of the situation. It didn’t seem to matter where I went, her summons would find me regardless of how far I fled. Resisting or ignoring her call also proved futile. I found I could fight her for a few days, but the pain and mental confusion I suffered from struggling soon grew unbearable, leaving me unable to focus on anything except her. Traveling in such a state of mental turmoil was extremely dangerous, and on two occasions I found myself still on the road at sunrise. Both times I fled my car as the sun’s first rays of light cleared the horizon, and only through sheer luck did I locate ground soft enough to allow me to bury myself in the instant before the light found me. Though I hated the idea of surrender, I conceded that responding to Andi immediately after being summoned was my most prudent course of action.
With no way to fight or avoid Andi, I soon came to accept her demands as just one more payment towards the price of my immortality. I resolved that three nights of servitude each year was not unduly oppressive, and perhaps someday I might even take a thrall of my own. But though I learned to deal with my onus, I knew I would never learn to accept it. Deep down, I still chafed at her control over me.
The remainder of the year, Andi left me completely to my own devices. She neither aided nor interfered in my affairs.
Three years passed with this arrangement intact. I did my best to ignore what I could not change and instead I focused on what I could improve. My needs were simple: blood, and shelter from the sun. In order to survive and become self-sufficient, I had to find or create a reliable system of obtaining both. To those ends, I cultivated hiding places all over the western United States, and a few in the east. I established hunting grounds and boundaries that were not previously claimed and that others of my kind respected. I even found some alternate sources of blood that did not require killing and therefore carried little risk of discovery. No, I will not say where because I do not need the competition.
Financially, however, I still had difficulties meeting expenses. And as they say, money makes the world go ‘round.
From each victim, I took any money or items of value they carried, and what I did not need to spend immediately I invested or placed into various accounts I had created under false names. Occasionally, when the need arose, I would break into a shop or store, but I tried not to do this too often. Oddly enough, it is much easier to cover up a murder than a burglary. While people go missing all the time, money does not just disappear from registers on its own. It is a much easier trail for the police to follow.
Because of this, I rarely had more than a few dollars readily available at any time, and although I could survive with my limited resources, a dependable money source would certainly have made my life a great deal more comfortable. The problem was how could I make an income when I could not be out during the day? Even jobs that might allow me to work at night required applications and interviews that would occur during daylight hours. It was a dilemma I had no immediate answer to.
I continued to eke out an existence in this manner until the summer of my fourth year when, through sheer blind luck, I received a windfall. One of the Friends I had dealings with in northern California put me in contact with a very wealthy man. This man was dying and desperately seeking a way to cheat death. Although only in his sixties, he was in very poor health. For many years he had enjoyed a lavish lifestyle, eating and drinking whatever he chose, indulging in mind and body altering chemicals in the pursuit of physical pleasure, all with no thought to exercise or moderation. Now his body had reached a point that it could no longer sustain itself. Drug induced stresses on his system, as well as the added stress of supporting four hundred pounds of excess fat had taken its toll.
His doctor had told him that his heart was damaged from the strain being put on it and it was only a matter of time before it quit completely. A few years at most. Perhaps tomorrow. Although a heart transplant was discussed, his odds of dying during surgery were too high to make the gamble worthwhile. And even if he managed by some miracle to completely change his lifestyle, there was too much damage already done to prevent the inevitable from happening. It was time to get his affairs in order.
I don’t know how he originally came into contact with the Friends of the Night or why he believed they could deliver what they promised, but he provided them with a private phone number and advised that he would answer it any time day or night. This number was passed along to me.
I spoke with him on the phone just one time. The conversation was brief. He told me he would pay a great deal of money for the chance to avoid dying and I told him what I could offer. We agreed that all future business between us would be in person. Our business was sensitive, and phones could be tapped and monitored. Besides, I wanted to know who I was dealing with, and he needed to see me to be sure I was not merely perpetrating a hoax at his expense. Our first meeting was arranged quickly and occurred the following night. He chose the place. I chose the time: after dark.
We met as arranged in an office located on the twenty-third floor of a high rise building in downtown Sacramento. The office had a window with a westerly view of the city, overlo
oking the area known as “Old Town.” The view from so high up was intoxicating and while I was in the building I found myself drawn repeatedly to gaze out across that artificially illuminated skyline. Each time I looked upon the rural beehive below me I was temporarily captivated by the multi-colored sea of lights flowing out to and around a black strip of emptiness that must have been the Sacramento River. The river looked like a jagged empty slash through a field of glittering whites, greens, and reds, offering a glimpse into the darkness of infinity. It reminded me too much of the consuming emptiness inside me.
A labored wheezing and the soft creak of a leather chair straining under great pressure brought my attention back once more to the interior of the office.
My host, Robert – this of course was not his real name, but it will have to do as his disappearance caused considerable press and I must avoid any connection to it – was seated behind a large wooden desk covered with the usual business accouterments: calendar blotter, pens, phone, and an oversized computer monitor that had been pushed aside so he could see me without interference. He was bald, with small features made to appear even smaller by slabs of fat along his cheeks, jowls, and neck. A narrow-rimmed pair of glasses perched on the end of his short, pointed nose as he cocked his head down to peer at me over the tiny round lenses. He watched me closely, and waited patiently for me to speak. As a businessman by trade, he knew when to push a deal and when to be quiet. He had made his proposal and he now had only to hear if I agreed or would require a bit more persuasion.
“Two million,” I said, repeating the figure he had quoted.
Robert nodded but said nothing.
“That sounds like a fair amount,” I agreed. “But first I need to be sure this is actually what you want.”
A slight frown crossed his pudgy features, giving him a decidedly unpleasant, petulant expression. I could tell he did not like surprise variables on the table during negotiations, and the fact that I questioned his intent visibly upset him. He quickly covered the frown with a more relaxed look, but his voice was rough as he asked, “What do you mean you need to be sure?”
“What do you know about me?” I asked him. “About my kind?”
“You live forever,” he stated, simply. “That’s all I need to know. Do we have a deal?” He laid his hands flat on his desk and sat up straighter in his chair, trying to take back control of our conversation. I began to pace slowly about the room again, ignoring his attempt to make this a yes or no discussion.
“’Live’ is such a slippery word. I’m not sure it really describes what will happen if I agree to this. Do you have a mirror, Robert?”
He didn’t, and told me so. I did, however. I had intentionally sought out a small hand mirror before coming to the meeting, knowing I would need to make a dramatic demonstration. I removed it from my shirt pocket and stepped directly in front of his desk. Standing close enough that he could see the object in my hand, but yet not so close as to be threatening, I held the mirror up so I could see the reflection of his face. Which meant that he in turn could clearly see my face. My true face.
“What do you see, Robert?” I gave him my friendliest smile, knowing what he saw in the mirror would be less than reassuring. “This is the ‘life’ you are asking for. I want you to be sure. I am trying to give you an understanding of your choice that I never had.”
His face screwed up in confusion. He looked into the mirror for a moment, then pushed his glasses up more firmly on his nose to get a closer look. His cheeks began to flush with growing anger and after a final glance to be sure he wasn’t missing something important, he pushed the mirror away from him with a quick wave of his hand. “I don’t know what joke you think you’re playing,” he said, his voice husky with barely suppressed impatience. “I see you. I see your face just like I see your face right here in front of me.”
I had tried to shake his confidence, to frighten him a little perhaps, with the view of my rotting corpse. But the fact he had seen nothing different in the mirror left me a bit shaken instead. I had for years religiously avoided mirrors. I detested what I saw in them, of course, but more importantly I was afraid that others might see in them my true form and know me for what I was. Apparently I had been mistaken. My assumption that everyone saw what I did had just been turned upside down. This new information stunned me and left me wondering just how much more I did not know about my own existence. Or worse, how much I thought I knew that was absolutely wrong.
But I did not have time to ponder this revelation. I could not let my sudden doubts give this man control of our meeting. I forced myself to push all thoughts of mirrors and rotting corpses away and to refocus on why I was here.
“The mirror is lying,” I improvised, having to calculate a new tactic on the spot. “You see what looks like a normal, living, breathing creature. But in truth, I am rotting away with every moment that passes. There is less of me each day, and in my place there is only a bloodthirsty creature that looks like me.”
“I don’t care,” he said, though I could see my words had made at least some impact. “I don’t want to die.”
I put the mirror back in my pocket and leaned forward, bracing myself on his desk. “But you are going to die, don’t you see?” I lowered my voice to almost a whisper. “You will not get to live forever. You get to be dead forever. Trapped right here on Earth in a rotting body; cloaked in a shroud trying to mimic a human being.”
I shifted to sit on the corner of his desk, crossing my arms over my chest. “There are some perks, however. You get to stay on top of the ground rather than be stuck under it.” I smiled again, not to put him at ease, but trying to make him think that I was more relaxed about our arrangement than I was. “Now, as long as we are perfectly clear about what you are asking for, do you still want it?”
“I don’t want to die,” he repeated. His eyes found mine and he looked like a frightened child searching for reassurance that the bogeyman wouldn’t actually crawl out from under the bed and grab him. Unfortunately, I couldn’t give him that reassurance. In this instance, I was the bogeyman, and given the chance I most definitely would drag him screaming into the abyss with me.
“Two million,” I said again, and put out my hand.
Robert stared at it for a moment as if it were a snake poised to bite him. Slowly he reached out and shook it. As soon as I released his hand he snatched it back, cradling it in his lap and making sure it was still properly attached.
I shrugged and stood up from the corner of his desk. I had done all I felt I could do to be sure he wasn’t making this decision out of some romanticized image of vampires. Now, it was a business arrangement and I could move forward with a clear conscience. Although, in all honesty, I don’t know why I cared. I had done far worse without a second thought about my actions or any real twinge of remorse. Why this particular hurdle was so important, I couldn’t figure out. But in the end, it did not matter; the agreement was made.
“Now, Robert, after you …” I fumbled, searching for an appropriate word. ‘Become a Vampire’ sounded ridiculous, and ‘join the undead’ was much too melodramatic. “Um…change,” I finished lamely, “your family and friends must all believe you to be dead. Otherwise they may come looking for you, and that is not a good thing. We thrive because nobody believes we exist, but if people who knew you before you became one of us see you and notice the changes that have occurred, they might just start to believe a little more than would be healthy. For them or us.
“So, what you are going to need to do is create a number of aliases that you will be able to use after you abandon your old life. When ‘Robert’ is declared dead, his estate will be divided up among his heirs. Before that happens you will want to make sure that the identities you create are well funded so you can continue to exist in the lifestyle you have become accustomed to. Do you understand?”
Robert nodded, relaxing into his chair. Now that the deal was done, it was time to nail down the details, and this was a process with which h
e was very comfortable. “I have people I can move the money through. They will set up some offshore accounts that cannot be located or touched by anyone but me.”
“No,” I said to him, shaking my head. “No one else involved. And no accounts with your real name or information. You must create completely new identities that can never be traced back to who you once were. There must be no connection between ‘Robert’ and your new life. No money transfers either. Cash must be moved from one account to another so there is no trail. It will take some time, but I can help you do it. I have some experience in these matters.”
Robert’s face screwed up in concern. “Cash,” he said, wincing. “Liquidating assets and moving that much in cash could take a long time. Maybe more time than I have. There isn’t another way?”
“Do it any way you wish,” I said with a shrug. “But I assure you, that if you leave any kind of a trail, someone is going to try to follow it. And if they do, I will need to step in and correct the problem. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
He insisted he did. “Cash,” he repeated. “Just like you say.”
“Good. When your finances are in order, we will move two million dollars into one of my accounts. For purposes of expediency, that can be electronically transferred and I will take care of burying the trail later. As soon as I have been paid, you will get what you want.”
He agreed and we shook hands once more to seal our agreement. This time he did not flinch at my touch; rather I was the one that came away with the feeling that I had just made a deal with the Devil.
Over the next few weeks, I helped him to create several new identities and to open bank accounts in multiple locations under the new names. Because he did not know exactly how much time he had, he took only those assets he could easily and quickly liquidate. Property and finances tied up in his business he reluctantly left alone. He complained loudly and vehemently about the resources he was being forced to give up. Still, what he was able to move was a sizable fortune compared to what I had been living on for the past four years; enough to keep him comfortable for a long, long time.
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