“Too bad. There are some definite advantages to human men.” He took another drag off of his cigar and let the smoke trail lazily from his mouth. Glancing in my direction, he must have noticed I had become a bit tense as I sat in my chair trying to feign nonchalance. “Relax, I’m not hitting on you. Merely making conversation. Besides, vampires are quite useless in this regard.”
“What regard is that?” I asked, curious despite my unease.
“Semen.” He tapped his cigar against the ashtray, distractedly attempting to remove the growing length of ash. “Human semen is quite useful to a vampire. Let me enlighten you with a hypothetical situation.”
“Okay,” I said, still not completely sure where this conversation was headed.
“You are hungry. You need to feed, but you are not somewhere that you can safely hunt. What are your options?”
“Animals,” I said quickly. “Not my first choice, certainly, but sufficient when better prey isn’t available.”
Niven agreed with a nod. “Animals, yes. Perhaps theft from a hospital or blood bank, but that again can be dangerous. Let’s face it, a vampire would not last long in a jail cell. Bars across a window do not keep out much sunlight.” Niven chuckled, and I laughed politely with him. “What else? We could call on one of the Friends of the Night, but honestly, especially after the events of this evening, I do not think either of us will be doing much of that again.”
“No, probably not,” I agreed.
“So what is left? Going hungry is only an option for a little while. A few nights, maybe a week. But the pain will continue to grow until you feed.”
I nodded, knowing very well the dagger pains of an unsated thirst. As I had grown older, stronger, I could go for longer periods of time without feeding, but when the hunger began to grow, as it eventually always did, it was a gnawing, relentless need that demanded to be met. “So what’s left?” I echoed his question.
“Semen,” he answered, jabbing the hand holding his cigar in my direction. A disk of ash broke free and tumbled to the ground. Niven gave a brief look of distaste toward the fallen ash, but did not move to clean it up. Instead he continued his lecture. “That particular bodily fluid mimics many of the properties of blood, and it can actually stop the pain of hunger. You can’t subsist on the stuff, obviously, but when nothing else is easily available, it can get you through the night. Male vampires aren’t always aware of this fact, though of course, some are.” He indicated himself with a gesture of his hands to his chest. “Most of the women are familiar with it.”
I thought of Andi, and suddenly her actions in the bedroom while I had been human made more sense; particularly her preference for oral sex. It made me wonder if any of our time together had been an act of love on her part, or if it was all just for the purpose of feeding. “And vampire semen?” I asked, as I remembered our lovemaking in the empty farmhouse.
“Nasty stuff,” Niven confirmed. “Cold, dead issue. Completely useless.”
I pondered Niven’s comments. Seriously wondering if the hunger became bad enough would I pursue this option. It was good to at least know that this was a possibility, whether I ever actually exercised it or not. I had killed both men and women in the past, and the act of feeding from a living being is a truly intimate act. I derive an almost erotic pleasure from the drinking of human blood regardless of the sex of my victim. This was not so different. As my mind digested the information, Niven’s words ‘cold, dead issue,’ sent my thoughts spinning in a new direction.
“How do you kill a vampire?” I asked.
Niven’s eyebrows rose. “Has my discussion upset you so badly you are thinking of killing me?” he asked, joking.
“Your discussion has triggered a lot of things in my head, but violent retribution is not one of them,” I assured him. “No, I was just thinking about getting stabbed through the heart today, and I couldn’t help but wondering why I am still walking around. I thought vampires could be killed by stabbing them through the heart. If it’s not true, then how do you actually kill a vampire? It might be helpful to know,” I added, “so I can try to avoid the situation in the future.”
The smile disappeared from Niven’s face, and he appeared pensive. “I’m not sure I completely understand all the details myself. I can only tell you what I know or what I have heard. First, I know that fire will destroy a vampire. I have witnessed that first hand. It looks like a horrible way to go and I hope to never experience it. I have been told – and believe – that being caught in direct sunlight will also very neatly end your existence. For anything else, I can only offer speculation.
“Stabbing through the heart apparently does not kill us, but it does render us helpless. I, like yourself, was run through with a metal blade. I don’t know if the outcome would be different with a wooden stake or not. I would guess it doesn’t make any difference, but I’m not going to poke one through my chest to find out. It hurts like hell regardless.”
I nodded in wholehearted agreement. “What about getting hacked up? How much damage can a vampire take before dying?”
Niven barked a small laugh at my question. “Well, as I have never hacked up another vampire,” he made air quotes with his fingers as he emphasized the words ‘hacked up,’ “I cannot give you a definitive answer as to how much damage a vampire can take. I will say though, we can take quite a bit of injury and still recover.” He took a long draw on his cigar causing the end to glow bright, then released the smoke in a straight plume from one corner of his mouth.
“I’m sure you have discovered that we regenerate lost parts of ourselves,” he said, raising one eyebrow in question. I nodded my agreement. “Then the question becomes, how much can we regenerate after we lose it? Entire limbs will grow back, no problem. I assume so will internal organs up to a point. I am not sure about the heart, however. Since piercing the heart holds us immobile, I can only guess that removing it completely will effectively kill us. Although again, that is not an experiment I wish to conduct.”
“How about cutting off the head?” I asked.
Niven gave me a sidelong glance, a smile pulling up one side of his mouth. “My, but your mind does follow a gruesome track, doesn’t it? Well, I don’t know that one either. Losing one’s head certainly sounds final, but I have to admit I don’t know if it truly is. I will speculate that without eyes or ears to find your way around, you are likely to find yourself in an uncomfortable proximity to the sun come daylight hours. It is difficult to find a place to hide when you can’t see where you’re going. Also, with no mouth to feed, I don’t know how one could help themselves heal. So, why don’t we call cutting off the head a maybe? Do you have any other morbid thoughts rattling around in your skull you would like to share?”
I did.
“What about the religious stuff?” I asked tentatively. I hated to sound stupid, but this was the first time I had the opportunity to ask some of these questions from someone who might know. Andi had been unable or simply unwilling to answer most of my questions during the short time we were still together. Niven, although his information might be a little limited, was at least talking to me. “Crosses, holy water, or churches?” I elaborated.
“That depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“On who is holding the cross,” Niven said with a slight frown. He appeared to be unsure on the subject as well. “Religious items, as near as I can figure, have no inherent power. It all depends on the faith of the person wielding them. A church may or may not be a problem if no worshipers are gathered in it. I recommend you avoid them altogether, though, just in case. Holy water also has no power unless blessed by a person with true faith. I can tell you that I have handled crosses and crucifixes with no problems.
“But I have also seen vampires burned by crosses. It depends upon the faith of the person holding the item. Do you know I actually witnessed a vampire ward off another vampire with a cross? It was the damnedest thing.”
I almost laughed out loud at that
image. It was almost too surreal to contemplate. “Is it just Catholic stuff that works?” I continued, with a smile still on my face.
Niven hesitated again before he spoke. “I don’t think so,” he said, peering off into space as if searching his memories for something definitive. “I think any article of faith, Jewish, Muslim, whatever, can be a problem for us if held by a believer. I couldn’t prove it to you, but I don’t think Catholics have a monopoly on this.”
“Thank you, Niven.” I said with emotion. I was thanking him for his information, but more than that I was thanking him for his companionship and the chance to spend a few hours not feeling completely alone. I almost didn’t say the words because it was an admission of my own insecurities, and I did not want to appear weak as well as ignorant in front of another vampire. It could be dangerous, like a dog baring its throat to show submission to an aggressor. The act could be met with acceptance, or the weaker animal might simply have its throat ripped open. But despite the risk, once I opened my mouth the rest poured out like water through a floodgate. “It’s nice to be able to ask questions from someone rather than just figure things out by trial and error while trying not to get killed doing it.”
“I agree,” he stated simply.
“It is kind of a lonely existence, and it’s nice to have a friend.”
Niven snuffed his cigar butt in the ashtray then gave me a long, appraising look. “Friends? Is that what we are?” he asked finally.
“I think we are,” I told him. “Or at least as close as we’re ever going to get to it in this lifetime.”
Niven smiled and nodded to himself, as though deciding he liked the idea after all. “I agree,” he said again.
Niven and I talked away the remainder of the night, retiring only when the sun came up that morning; he to his own bedroom and I to one of the guestrooms. We had discussed any and all topics that came to mind during the last few hours of darkness, each of us asking questions of the other hoping to gain information or insight on our current existence. I discovered that despite his confident bearing Niven had also spent most of his existence alone and trying to figure out the difference between facts and folklore about living the life of the undead. In many areas he was quite as ignorant as I was. We promised that should we ever come across new knowledge that might help the other we would make the effort to pass it along.
Upon waking the following night, I pulled fresh clothing from my suitcase and dressed. I ran a comb through my hair to get it to lie more or less flat and, feeling I had done as much as could be expected to make myself presentable, I exited my borrowed bedroom. I wandered into the den where Niven and I had chatted the night before and I found him already settled into the same recliner, head resting back on the leather padding and one leg draped casually over the other, crossed at the knees. His clothing and grooming were immaculate and I couldn’t help wondering how he was able to shave and keep his hair so perfect when he could not see his own reflection. I ran a hand along my own rasp of beard that had accumulated over the past three days, then dropped it, embarrassed, when I saw that Niven had caught the gesture. I smiled and shrugged self-deprecatingly.
Niven had already lit a cigar and was happily puffing away. He politely offered me one from the box, but like the night before I refused. I wondered briefly if I should go ahead and take up the habit, however. Niven seemed to enjoy it immensely, and it wasn’t as if I needed to worry about lung cancer.
I walked over to where he sat and extended my open right hand. “I want to thank you again for your kindness and hospitality yesterday.”
“No,” Niven said simply, ignoring my outstretched hand.
“No?” I asked, completely confused by the seeming non sequitur.
“No,” he repeated. “This sounds like a goodbye speech and I am not ready for you to leave. I have been pondering some of the things we talked about last night and before you go I was hoping we might discuss a few last items. If you don’t mind?” He flapped a hand at me indicating I should sit down. “I believe I have some thoughts that could be mutually beneficial to the two of us.”
Bemused, I reclaimed my chair from the past evening. Not knowing where this conversation was headed, I said nothing. I raised my hands palms up to indicate to Niven that I was listening and he should begin.
“Last night we briefly discussed our financial statuses. You commented that when you were turned you were cast out by your maker and left with nothing. I told you that I had come from a rather wealthy family and that wealth was a large part of why I was turned. My sire wanted to have access to that money.”
“I remember the conversation,” I said neutrally. I also recalled that the money was only part of the reason Niven had been selected to be turned. I remembered several rather detailed X-rated tales he had shared about the days immediately before and after he was changed. Niven was a remarkably attractive man, and his looks had not gone unnoticed by the vampire that turned him.
“Well, much of that wealth is still intact. I have not done much with it. You, on the other hand, once money became available to you, appear to have used it very wisely. You mentioned your investments in a few blood banks. You said they were quite useful. And lucrative?”
“They have been,” I agreed. “Are you looking to invest?”
“No, not exactly.” Niven uncrossed his legs and put both feet flat on the floor. He leaned forward in his recliner toward me and lowered his voice as if seeking more privacy from a prying audience in the room. “Several years ago, I purchased a blood collection van. More of a bus, really. Occasionally I send it out to neighborhoods or businesses on a blood drive. The drives are complete bullshit, but the people I collect from get to feel good about themselves for a while, and I get to restock my larder. It has worked out very well for me, but I admit after hearing your story that it is a rather limited and shortsighted practice. I would now like to expand my idea and I would like your help in doing it.”
“I’m not opposed to helping you,” I told him. “What are you proposing?”
“I want to go legitimate. Well, mostly. I would like to purchase several more collection vans and be a resource for the blood banks that you own. I will provide blood, your bank will distribute it using the channels you already have and we will both collect the profits.” Niven winked at me. “More money and more access to personal necessities. What do you think?”
I paused, thinking over the offer. It sounded like a good partnership that could greatly benefit both of us. A few years ago I would have jumped at the deal without hesitation, but that was then. I had recently learned that trust must be earned and caution was the only way to guarantee survival. However, Niven had saved my life, and then brought me into his home with no apparent motive other than gratitude. It was a gamble, but the odds seemed to be on my side.
“I think we can do that,” I said at last. “Your vans will need to be inspected and certified by the state they operate in, but once that happens I can pretty much guarantee you have a buyer for your collections. Let’s start small, however, and see where it goes.”
Niven’s grin split his face. I could see his bright serrated teeth sparkling. “I think that is wise. We can grow this partnership later if all goes well. What do you propose?”
“I propose we start locally. For you, anyway. You start researching what you need to certify your van. I will use my contacts to purchase shares in a blood bank here in Indiana. If I can’t find one that already exists, I think I can open a new one. Then when we are both independently operational, I will reach out to you as a contractor to assist with collections. After that, we just see what happens. Does that work for you?”
“I think it does.” Niven stood up, strolled over to his desk and rolled the lid back. He selected an hourglass-shaped crystal container and two glasses. Into both glasses he poured an inch of golden amber fluid from the delicate decanter. When he finished pouring he set the decanter back into the desk and, raising a glass in each hand, he turned to face me. “
I know you were in a hurry to leave a moment ago, but might I encourage you to stay a while longer and have a drink to celebrate our new partnership?”
I decided one more night as Niven’s guest would not be such a bad thing.
CHAPTER 17
Winter came late that year I met Niven. The dry summer heat lasted right through October and into November. For a while it seemed the hot weather had no intention of ever releasing its hold on the west coast, but when the winter storms finally did arrive, they came with a fury.
During the third week of November, a cold bitter rain engulfed most of northern California making it a perfect hunting ground for one such as me. When weather is at its worst, humans tend to stay indoors, so if an occasional soul braves the cold wet night, there are fewer potential witnesses about when he meets an untimely end. Although I no longer needed to kill to survive, I still savored a good hunt, and the miserable weather called to me. It made me feel invisible. Safe.
In addition, I personally enjoyed the rain. I loved the sound of it as it battered at the street and rooftops; the feel of it in my face, and the sharp, clear smell it gave to the air. Even when I was human, I liked the rain, though I did not so much enjoy being cold and damp. As a vampire, the cold and the wet did not bother me at all, and I was free to stand out in the worst kinds of weather simply drinking in the sensations.
This particular storm found me spending time in San Francisco. I had been in the city for several days attempting to close the purchase of a small bookstore in the area. Rare and collectible literature had always been a passion of mine, and this store seemed to be a worthwhile investment. As a college student I never had the money to seriously collect anything of any real value. Now I had the money and the leisure time to do as I pleased. Besides, privately owned bookstores were perfect cover for many questionable activities. There is minimal foot traffic coming in, and no one asks questions about any odd hours the shop may keep.
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