by Ian Hall
“There is no limit to what you can mete out if the measure of hatred within you is great enough,” Amos said to me, “And I believe that you have such a degree of hatred inside you that you may just invent new ways inflicting pain that even I could not fathom, Alan Rand.”
The sound of my full name spoken aloud washed over me in a bizarre, calming tide. Like Mother, still hunched over in that compromising position, I lay under a spell. As I took in the measure of her, bleeding and leaking, I felt as though a chord had been snapped, detaching me from her suffering.
Amos waved his hand out to Valérie, presenting an offering, “This one is yours, Alan Rand, to do with as you please.”
Like a lamb to the slaughter, she stepped up, disrobing.
“How do you want to take her?”
I, too, moved forward, stopping only long enough to pick the knife up again.
It wasn’t nice, and it wasn’t pretty, but I’d put up with worse from the old guy standing watching. Alan Rand didn’t have anything on Amos yet; probably never would be. Alan just launched himself at me, his penis finding its home between my legs like a pro. I half enjoyed it until he started poking my neck with the knife. I remember hearing Amos talking one day; ‘that which kills us makes us stronger’. I believed it then. I had to.
To give myself willingly to the slaughter took a lot more than I’d thought it would.
To my relief, after he’d started with the knife, darkness fell quickly.
“She won’t stay dead, you know.” Amos said, standing over me as I admired my handy work.
Valérie’s corpse lay in a bloody heap on the carpet. I had allowed her to pleasure me as my first cuts tore through her abdomen. Yet, it did nothing to stifle my arousal once her dead fingers released their grip. I took everything away from her then; all her beauty, her charm, the very breath in her lungs. Only the promise that I could soon do it all again brought more satisfaction.
“Do you know what we are, Alan Rand?”
I smiled, “You’re monsters. And I’m one of you.”
Amos’ appreciation was evident. As Mother laid dying, and Valérie reviving, we gathered at the table for a cup of tea and a long conversation.
“Sit here,” I said, pulling out the chair that had once belonged to my father, “It’s the place of honor.”
In silent rapture, I sipped and listened intently to Amos Blanche’s account of vampires, the intended uprising, his rise to power with me in his wake. My neck ached for his bite; the promise of it stirred in me urges Valérie could not begin to.
Amos must have detected my excitement, “If there is anything that concerns me about you, Alan Rand, it’s your lust for power.”
My teacup clanked and fractured as it slipped from my astonished fingers, “I don’t understand. I thought that’s what this was all about- dominance, power…”
“No, Alan,” he shook his head disappointedly, “this was about violence; violence for its own sake, an outlet for that hate you harbor.”
“Violence is power.” Even to my own ears I sounded like an impetuous child.
“It is only one form of power; the type of power a small boy wields as he holds his magnifying glass over the ant hill,” Amos poured another cup, “but, I see in you that you would never be satisfied with such useless endeavors; you and I are of one soul, Alan Rand- we both desire power over the minds and wills of others. Something, I believe, we each inherited from our disdainful mothers.”
I stole a glance toward the sofa. Mother issued another soft cry, blood now trickling from her mouth. It wouldn’t be much longer. So, I returned my full attention to the more important matter at hand.
“I should think you would appreciate such a shared trait.” I said diplomatically.
Amos’ brilliant eyes regarded me shrewdly, “Not where it might interfere with my plans, young man.”
“I would never move against you!” I pled, hoping he could feel my sincerity from across the table.
“To be certain, I will make sure to put certain safeguards in place.”
“Safeguards?”
Amos lowered his cup, his posture changing from conversational to business, “I will change you myself- a practice I usually reserve for tender females, such as Valérie here. In so doing, you will become my personal possession, Alan Rand; you will be beholden to me for the remainder of your existence and utterly incapable of disobeying my will.”
My body became charged with eagerness, “I wouldn’t disobey you now, Sir. Use me as you like- I will follow you until the end of time!”
“I know,” he said tiredly, “and it is such a waste to make a promising ram into a meager sheep. All the same- you will serve me well.”
Amos rose and I followed. Mother had stopped moving, her bowels had already expended their last and the faint cries had gone utterly silent.
“We must move quickly before she expires.”
I shrugged frivolously, “I believe she already has.”
“There’s still a slight pulse; I can hear it.”
As I bent low, straining to hear what he did, Amos advanced on me like a lunging tiger. His arms clamped around my midsection, his fragrant breath in my face, I fell limp like a lover in heated embrace. It felt the greatest ecstasy as his fangs sank into my throat, suckling the blood from my artery. I never wanted the moment to end.
As I grappled with my arousal, Amos pulled away from me and offered up his own wrist. The taste of sex and violence and power mingled together, everything Amos Blanche had promised me.
I drank while my mentor grappled with his own arousal. Once both my need felt satisfied, Amos turned me again toward my mother.
“Drink from her quickly. Feed. She doesn’t have much time.”
I sat in the corner of the room, nursing my newest cuts, determined that he’d not take me like that again.
Alan implored Amos to turn him, to transport him to immortality.
He sounded sickly sweet, and Amos lapped it up like a thin, disheveled puppy dog.
I know that Amos thought he turned me, all those many years ago, and that technically I should be beholden to the thin wiry man, but I lost something that afternoon, and it wasn’t just Alan’s use of the knife.
As the two got down to the carnality of the ritual, I lost interest, instead taking in Sophia’s bewildered expression, as she too looked on.
When my boss forced his own blood down Alan’s throat, forming their bond, part of my beholding to Amos died quietly.
As Alan severed his mother’s throat, and sank his mouth to the crimson wave, I closed my eyes.
(Now fleetingly back to Valérie’s story, (Original Sins) for a quick look at the newest of Amos Blanche’s acquisitions.)
Over the next ten years, he boasted such despicable acquisitions as Hannah and Barton Lynch, Sheldon Newell and in due time Alan Rand. In my mind I questioned the validity of every one; they did not seem to have the qualifications necessary to grow our group successfully, but they shared one basic quality; hearts of purest black.
During that time a young, charismatic womanizer by the name of Donny Kelp became entangled in Blanche’s net. It turned out that Donny had courted a friendship with a certain politician’s daughter, and Amos required leverage.
(Thus begins the story of Donny Kelp, who appears later in Vampire High School. Ian writes as Donny Kelp, the boy with the face fit for the big screen. April writes as Valérie, the disenchanted vampire who had turned him.)
Vampires Don’t Cry, New Blood: Donny Kelp
By Ian Hall and April L. Miller.
Pennsylvania, December 1958.
Seems that being a vampire, and keeping up the appearance of normality were one and the same thing.
SLAP.
Another clatter across the forehead, this time nearer my temples.
“I thought you were smart!” her voice hurt more than her open hand.
SLAP.
It wasn’t as though I could put up any resistance. My a
rms were twisted behind me by two of the College Football team, and since Valérie went on and on at me about the restraints ‘we vampires’ had to live under, I’m guessing that the football lunks were also turned.
Two days. I’m two days a vampire, turned against my will by the delectable slapping Valérie, and I’m already being reprimanded for making ‘rookie mistakes’.
“How was I meant to know?” I pleaded between slaps.
Yup.
SLAP.
“You’re meant to have some kind of idea!” she spat at me. I couldn’t help but see the sexy side of the whole punishment. The more I sagged in the footballers’ arms, the lower she leant over, the more cleavage I saw down the front of the cheerleader uniform. Not that I hadn’t seen it before; two nights ago, in fact. We were doing it, full naked, when just at my moment- my moment- she bit my neck hard. It didn’t actually spoil my enjoyment that much, just made it different.
And she left me. Wandering aimlessly in town, wondering why everything had changed. My senses were tingling, I felt weak, yet euphoric.
When I got back to the dorm, I slept for a whole day.
Then when everything had calmed down a bit, and a good sleep behind me, I got randy. I went down to the college and soon found myself a nice piece of neck to chew on. I thought I’d had it made. I just whispered sweet nothings in her ear, and she crawled all over me.
Shooting fish in a barrel.
So I did what any self-respecting guy would do, I dragged her behind the bleachers, and helped her get naked. Man, I felt pumped up to do something real bad. Her neck kind of presented itself to me, and I snarled at her. Then, just as I get my brand new fangs onto her skin….
I get grabbed by the football Jocks, right from in front of her, pulled to my feet, and dragged screaming across the playing field.
How the hell did I know there would be such a thing as vampire etiquette?
Not exactly a study course this semester.
Not exactly one of the evening clubs you subscribe to.
Not common knowledge at all.
New blood.
No different than New Money: undisciplined and uncultured. They came from nowhere and nothing; a bit of good luck-shake to the right hand, kiss the right ass- rags to riches type story. Their kind lacked wisdom and propriety. Decorum. Common goddamn sense.
A wild card like this Donny Kelp running loose would prove a liability to us all, especially me. Why Amos needed him on the payroll was beyond my comprehension. But, not my place to question. Only to recruit- and then to keep them in line.
I stepped back and looked at my handy work. Donny’s made-for-the-silver-screen face looked a bit worse for wear. But, he would heal well before first class on Monday morning. Shame. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to see that playboy crash and burn at his own game.
“I’m assuming we’ll not be having any more trouble with you attacking humans at your discretion.”
Predictably, Donny lifted a pair of sheepish eyes. His sad attempt at disarming me, I supposed.
“What do you expect me to do, Valérie? You turned me into this... this… killing machine.”
For good measure, I re-introduced his cheek to the back of my hand, “That’s right- I did make you what you are; and I can take it all away just as quickly. Is that what you want?”
In the past, I’d found this to be the part they resorted to begging for mercy. Donny Kelp, on the other hand, took me by surprise.
“Yeah,” he said, “maybe it is.”
“I gave him my best vampire stare, then hit him with the command tone. “From now on, you feed when I say. Right?”
He just nodded.
Amos may have had some use for Donny Kelp but he’d been my conquest, my subordinate. My blood had turned him and that put him under my control. As far as I was concerned, I’d do with him as I damn well pleased. Even if that meant starving the womanizing, chauvinistic arrogance right out of him.
Amos Blanche turned out to be nothing like I’d expected. When Valérie took me up to see ‘the boss’, I expected Raymond Burr or Jimmy Cagney or something. I didn’t expect a thin, old gnarly guy who actually looked all of the two hundred years he claimed to be.
“I picked you for a purpose, Donny.” He croaked like a two pack a day guy. I knew I needed to listen, so for once in my life, I actually shut up and said nothing.
Valérie sat in the shadows, a strange, lost look on her face.
Amos motioned to one of the football jocks, and he brought this teenage girl into the room. To say she looked scared would be an understatement. She struggled, but the jock held her firmly by the upper arms. A large gag kept her from making too much noise, but she screamed in there. Terrified.
“Watch and learn.” Amos walked up to the girl, who watched him, eyes wide open, every step of the way. Man, did he get close. He carefully breathed into her face, then closer still, until his lips nearly touched her nose, breathing right under her nostrils. It happened slowly, but she did stop struggling.
“You want me.” He whispered.
The girl emphatically shook her head.
Amos breathed some more, and her eyes never left his. “Take off the gag.”
Releasing her arms, the jock undid the large knot behind her head.
She panted in his face, her breath ragged.
“Kiss me.” Amos said.
I actually shook my head, never going to happen.
But to my shock she did. She kissed him. Nervously at first, then with so much building passion that she pulled him close, and began to rub herself over him like some cat in heat.
He pushed her away. “Take her to my room.”
The jock actually had to pull her off.
Amos turned to me. “That!” he said pointing at the closing door. “Is how it’s done!”
He came real close. “That is what you’ll learn. It’s the sole purpose in your miserable life!”
Bewildered by what I’d just seen, trying to relate it to my new “purpose”, I stood utterly silent, squirming under the old man’s icy glare.
“Wait outside.” Amos said to me.
I’ve never been more grateful to leave a room.
It never came easy for me- watching the young girls presented before changing. I remembered all too well my great tussle with Amos; weeks of long agonizing sex. So long ago.
But Amos liked to be active when young, attractive females were chosen. The king declaring Prima Notre on the virgin’s wedding night, he would be slow and methodical, but he would not be gentle. And he wouldn’t turn her until the very end- until he’d raped her nearly to death. His way; establish dominance through suffering, and enjoy the process.
It wasn’t enough that Amos sated his lust for violence through sex. He felt it imperative for all the male recruits to do the same. Socio-sexual stereotypes were harsh enough in the human world. Vampires- female vampires- lived in terror of their male superiors.
I rose through the ranks by proving to Amos my bones were no more made of glass than his. What he dished, I took and never broke- never once. At least not in front of him.
It only took four decades enduring his brutality, but eventually the whip at my back got thrust into my hand, and I became the woman that men feared. I showed my recruits the exact measure of mercy Amos dealt his- absolutely none.
Now a small enlistment of subservient males jumped to my beck and call. Mine, should ever the day come when Amos fell.
But my latest, Donny Kelp, seemed different; Amos had a specific task for this young man.
I scanned Donny’s face as he watched Amos take control of the girl. Fear. Distaste. Anger. He didn’t like what he saw. But then they never did at first. Eventually they all grew to embrace Amos’ example, and to follow suit.
Once they had their first taste of that kind of total, elicit power they came around.
Bastards.
Amos favored me with a rare compliment, “You’ve outdone yourself, Valérie. He’s
just what we’ve been looking for.”
To have such power over another human being had been incredible to watch, and to be honest, I couldn’t take my eyes off them; Amos the thin old man and the new girl.
Then Amos told me to leave.
I only waited outside until the door a moment, when it opened again.
Amos’s voice passed over Valérie’s shoulders. “Tell him his task; I’ve got an exercise regimen to attend to.”
In my mind, I could see the sickly sweet smile.
“Yes, Amos.” She strode out into the corridor, and waited till the door closed. “Donny? My bedroom. Now.”
I headed down the corridor at a fair clip, but still felt her breath on the back of my neck all the way. As I entered her boudoir and spun round, she’d already closed the door behind us.
Now, I like sex. I love girls, women, whatever. But I’ve never been used before, and it wasn’t pleasant.
To be accurate, we didn’t have sex, we rutted. I felt merely the implement she used to rub herself against. My initial feeling of lust soon quelled, and although I contributed nothing to the affair, she still took her sweet time. By the time she collapsed on top of me, satiated and soaking with sweat, I held nothing but disgust for the woman.
Then she slapped me. “That’s what it’s like!”
SLAP. Same hand, same place.
“That’s what Amos’s lifestyle is like.”
SLAP. My brain felt like it ricocheted around inside my skull; a pinball on overdrive.
“He takes what he wants, and he feels no remorse. He deals pain and demands loyalty.”
She held my face in her palms, looking desperately into my eyes.
“He is the pinnacle of vampire power in this area, yet he rules through hate and torture.”
At last the penny dropped. I saw the moral in the tale, cottoned onto the reason for her torrid display. Although I flinched against another slap, I couldn’t help trying to prove to Valérie that I was worth saving.
“He’s doing it all wrong.” I said.