Noir: A Crimson Shadow Novel

by Nathan Squiers

  Despite what the movies and stories of vampires had “taught” him, Stan’s new friend did not explode as the rays of the sun cast down on them. Instead, Joseph laughed, promising that vampires were not prone to such sudden combustion, explaining that, while the sun caused his kind a great deal of discomfort, they were able to get around during the day for brief periods.

  Despite this new information, Joseph confessed that it was time for him to return to his clan, explaining that there was business to wrap up concerning what had happened with the therion. Knowing that this meant the wiping of his memory, Stan took a final swig from his coke bottle and looked down sadly.

  Joseph was silent, looking at Stan for some time before sighing and standing up and turning his gaze to the park where several early morning joggers passed by. Finally, without a word, he turned away, burying his hands in his coat pocket and walking off.

  Stan watched the vampire for a moment in confusion before calling out, “You’re not going to erase my memory?”

  Turning his head slightly, Joseph looked at Stan over his shoulder with a questioning stare. “Do you want me to?” he asked.

  “Well, no. Of course not! I just thought it was what you had to do.”

  Joseph turned to face him. “Something tells me I can trust you not to give our secret away.” He smiled.

  “I want you to teach me!” Stan blurted out, surprising himself with his brashness.

  The vampire stared at the young man in silence before looking again towards the sunrise. Finally, he sighed and magically lit another cigarette.

  “I’ll set you on the path to learning.” He’d said quietly, taking a drag, “But a lot of the art is self-taught.” He turned to Stan, “Think you have what it takes?”

  Feeling a swell of enthusiasm, Stan nodded and the vampire smiled and turned away, heading down the path back into the city as the new day blossomed behind him.

  Stan knew he didn’t need to ask when and where he would see him again, and, with this eerie confidence moving him forward, he’d made his way back to the hotel. Along the way, as he passed the portion of street where the event had transpired upon earlier, he noted that the area where the scene had taken place was free of any evidence of the killing.

  ****

  The first two meetings were not unlike the first—serving mostly as a time for the two to sit down and discuss what Joseph could do and what could, ultimately, be done if magic was properly performed. Despite their long talks and quickly growing friendship Stan had been surprised when, on their third meeting, the vampire had invited him to stay and practice magic in his clan’s building.

  “They don’t see me as a threat?” he asked.

  Joseph laughed, “It is difficult,” he’d pointed out, “to threaten a creature that can so easily destroy you. Besides, I trust you and our library has all the resources you’ll need for your studies.”

  Stan briefly pondered what Joseph had told him and thought about what it would be like living with a clan of vampires and shivered at an unsettling thought.

  “Come now!” Joseph frowned playfully, acting hurt, “We don’t all survive on blood! And I promise you that our pantries are well stocked for those who do.” He grinned, “Despite the legends, we are not without self control.”

  Stan laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, and nodded in acceptance, seeing no real reason to reject the offer.

  The library was far larger than any that Stan had ever seen before. On his first tour of the monstrous, underground room, he met Depok. Joseph explained that he and Depok had met many years earlier and had since then worked together to form the Odin Clan.

  Though at first Stan had been troubled by a dizzying effect that seemed to come from being near Depok, he soon found that the vampire was enthusiastic in welcoming an eager pupil within their clan’s walls.

  The dilemma of living with vampires quickly became very little of a hassle for Stan. During the day, most were tucked away in their rooms, leaving the large building relatively vacant. Though sleeping was, in the beginning, a bit difficult—the constant, dull roar of the myriad of life-feeders wandering about the grounds was enough to keep Stan awake and reciting lines from whatever text he’d brought up with him from the library in his large, plush bed. Exhaustion always won, however, and over time Stan discovered that the eerie chorus became a sort of lullaby and he wondered how he’d be able to sleep without it after he left.

  Time lost meaning for Stan as he studied, and before he knew it more than four years had passed. Unsurprisingly, Joseph always remained a source for guidance and assistance in Stan’s pursuits, but, more often, he always found himself in the library alone, diligently practicing and meditating.

  It was one such night, in a state of deep concentration, when Stan first felt Its presence.

  The event took him by surprise, and he shot up from his seat, positive that he had dozed off and been awaken by a nightmare. Ever curious, however, he decided to go to Depok, who had taught Stan how to properly meditate in the first place.

  For the first time, however, Stan discovered that Depok did not always have the answer. For several hours, he repeated the same few questions, hoping to somehow identify the immense auric force that he had experienced. Each time, however, the vampire merely shrugged, saying that in all his time he had never heard of or experienced any such force, though he curiously insisted that Stan go on and explain more.

  Finally, Depok agreed that the best course would be to try and find Stan’s mysterious entity together. He explained that, though it often took years upon years of refining a technique, sometimes, during moments of heightened concentration, it was possible to stumble across some form of wisdom at an early stage of one’s training. He went on to tell Stan that whatever he’d come across may be something new and undiscovered and that if he had the added power of several psychics pushing him forward, they might get the answers that he sought. Of course, when Joseph heard of what they were going to attempt, he eagerly agreed to help as well.

  Early the next morning, while the rest of the clan was going to sleep, Stan and the two psychics cleared out a spot in the library to settle down and begin their arduous task.

  Joseph and Depok easily synchronized their auras and went on to connect with Stan in order to “surf” as one being. When, at last, all three were aurically bonded, they began to concentrate on what Stan had described earlier.

  For what felt like forever, the three navigated the cosmos as a single auric shuttle, directing themselves towards various irregular spikes of energy that seemed to resemble the mysterious entity they were searching for. It was only when they’d traveled as far as their collected consciousnesses could reach that they finally experienced It.

  The entity had come at them without warning, drawing them in with a hypnotic magnetism. Their collected senses told them little more than the simple truths: the being was powerful, and It wanted to consume them.

  As they were pulled ever nearer, they had become aware that It was a They. What had before seemed a simple gargantuan being of energy turned out to be a complex collection of auric signatures linked to one consciousness. The closer they drew, the clearer the reason: It saw them as free roaming energies that were seeking It out and It interpreted this as new auras to add to Itself.

  As It began to take the trio into Itself, they became aware of the varying sentient parts that made up the whole; the pieces showing like billions of colorful cells. Some of the consciousnesses welcomed them warmly to their home while others made brutal threats. Some expressed infinite sorrow while others glowed with radiant glee. And all of them with one, singular desire:

  The desire of the whole.

  The desire for them to join.

  Depok was the first to break free, severing his auric link with Stan and Joseph and returning to his body. The disruption of their hold in the new realm had rocketed the others back into the library where Stan fell to his side, feeling a wave of relief coupled with an intense claus
trophobia from being back inside a solid form. And the loneliness…

  All three remained on the library floor for a long time, not saying anything to one another as they fully came to grips with what they had experienced. Finally, starting with Joseph, they began to get up and move to their respective rooms for some much earned rest.

  Later on, the three found out that they had been on their “journey” for nearly four days.

  Joseph, who had begun dating a human woman he’d saved from a rogue ‘sang’, had begun to stay out for longer periods of time until the news was finally made that they were going to get married. The clan took the announcement with mixed views, though the overall sentiment was a congratulatory one.

  Seeing his longtime friend and companion heading down a new path sparked Stan to do the same and he dedicated several more years to studying the arts before the need to start a new life compelled him to leave the clan’s walls.

  His time spent learning and advancing had given him the urge to help others follow a similar path. Though he knew that he was not advanced enough to teach magic—and since he also knew that doing so would bring a clan warrior to his door with a death warrant—he instead decided to go to college and get a degree in teaching.

  ****

  It was several months into his first semester of college when Stan had invoked It.

  Someone was breaking into students’ dorm rooms and, along with taking anything of value, assaulting whoever got in their path. One of the more recent victims—a young woman who had been unfortunate enough to walk in on their activities—was laid out in critical condition and, as if to add insult to injury, pregnant with the product of the thief’s attack.

  It was in this attack and the thief’s decision—and grave mistake—to enter Stan’s room only minutes after raping the girl and taking, on top of his television and VCR, his leather-bound collection of magic manuals and scriptures that Depok had given him as a farewell gift. Though Stan knew that the punk didn’t know what they’d taken, he knew that the collection looked expensive and the thief would no doubt attempt to pawn them. After an unsettling ordeal with campus security, who were convinced that Stan had robbed himself after assaulting his neighbor, he’d decided that action needed to be taken.

  He had never before attempted to invoke a solid presence to do his bidding, and the idea of facing the being he had experienced with Joseph and Depok was an unnerving one. Even more-so, he wasn’t entirely sure the process would be successful. Nonetheless, he figured it was worth a try, especially if it meant finding the thieving rapist.

  If nothing else, whatever he conjured might have the power to help his friend.

  Stan had never been one for drawing symbols on the floor or lighting candles or any other such activities that were merely shortcuts for directing the proper energies. Instead, he reclined in the ratty brown chair he had picked up from the side of the road one night on his way home from a concert, closed his eyes, and concentrated. Time lost meaning, as it had before, and Stan jerked back to consciousness several times wondering how long he’d been out. As it was, he spent several hours alone simply finding the right path to what he sought.

  It was not unlike walking through a maze in pitch blackness with nothing more to guide him than his crisscrossed senses: following a hum that was more of an odor, or a glow that felt like a tugging. Regardless, he guided his way through empty dead ends and turned away from false energies until he came to “stand” in the spot that felt right.

  There was a warmth and a vibration that he felt in his fingertips and he knew, somehow, that he’d found It. When the familiar vacuum began to pull him in, he called out with silent words, expressing a need for help.

  After a brief eternity in which he felt himself being read, he was rocketed back with a “passenger” clutching to his energy signature. When he was back in his body, he was quick to try and shake off the familiar sensations of the process and quickly stood.

  At first it was nothing more than a bright light hovering in front of him; energy rolling from its core like a waterfall that filled the room. He slowly approached, recognizing his “guest” as one of the auric signatures—one of the “cells”—that he had experienced before. He blinked once from the intense light and opened his eyes to a different form.

  It stood in a human form and smiled kindly before looking around. It appeared to be a woman, and Stan wondered if the aura had once belonged to someone of its current appearance. That aside, it was gorgeous! Shoulder length, slightly curly blondish-red hair hung in a mane that framed a perfect face that was smooth and white as porcelain. Its eyes, which seemed to take in more than what they were aimed towards, were a bright and solid purple with no whites or pupils. The creature’s mouth seemed to be too big for the face it rested upon, and as the creature stretched its jaw, Stan could see that it had several rows of teeth behind the normal row like that of a shark’s. For a moment he was reminded of the therion that had attacked him and shivered.

  The creature, as Stan took the rest of it in, appeared to be naked… but not. Its chest protruded outward in two mounds like the breasts of a woman, but ended simply with no nipples. Upon a quick glance, Stan also saw that the creature also had no genitals and he grinned slightly as he thought of a stripped Barbie doll he’d seen hanging on a door down the hall as a joke to whoever lived in that room.

  Using telepathy to speak, Stan told the creature what he had called “her” there for. As he faced the being in silence, filling it in with his purposes, it tilted its head analytically. When he finished, the creature nodded—a startlingly human gesture that caught Stan off guard—and, finally finishing its assessment of the mortal who had summoned it, politely “asked” if he had anything sharp it could use to cut with.

  Stan was confused but obliged and brought it a steak knife which it accepted with a beaming, tooth-filled smile and began to saw into its own left wrist with the serrated blade. No blood, or fluid of any kind for that matter, had been shed, and Stan watched in amazement as it sawed casually into its wrist, making no sounds or signs of discomfort as it went about its task.

  Finally, the hand fell free onto the living room floor and the creature raised its arm and watched intently as the fresh stump bubbled like boiling mud and sprouted a new hand which it tested; wiggling its fingers and rotating the wrist. When it was clearly satisfied that the replacement was as good as the original, it picked up the severed hand and held it out for Stan to take. It instructed him to soak the hand in salt-water with oil and herbs. After 24 hours of this, It had explained, the hand could be prepared in any way he desired and then be consumed. This last part had been stressed, the creature demanding that nothing of Its gift be left to offer the power to any other earth creature.

  With that, the creature smiled and disappeared in a flash of light, leaving Stan by himself with a “demon’s” severed hand held in his own. He looked down at the hand, which clenched momentarily before finally relaxing like a pet accepting a master’s embrace. A sweet smell, like that of flowers, rose from the appendage and he set it down on the nightstand while he went about filling a large bowl with lukewarm water and dumping a healthy dose of sea-salt into it.

  Afterwards, he left his room, making sure to lock the door behind him and went down the hall to the hippie’s room. He knocked on the door and heard a gasp and the squeak of mattress springs; typical day for the hippie he supposed. The ruckus continued a short while longer before the door finally opened a crack and the hippie poked her hooked nose out just enough to see Stan; a thick plume of pot smoke and the scent of sex pouring into the hall. Seeing who it was, the hippie threw open the door and leaned against the frame. She was dressed in a bed sheet and was obviously not embarrassed about that fact as she stood for any passers-by to notice. Her hair was a nest of sweat and spit and cum that she was either ignoring or hadn’t known about. Twin sets of heavy, masculine breaths emanated from behind the bathroom door, telling Stan that her company was most likely the two guys down th
e hall that usually visited there.

  “If you’re here for some fun you’re going to have to come back later.” The hippie said with a flirtatious smile. Stan knew she’d have liked nothing better.

  “Just lookin’ to score some of whatever you got in the garden over there.” Stan motioned to an herb tray that hung near her window. “Doin’ some cooking for a date I got tonight and I want to liven up my pasta with whatever ya have.”

  The hippie frowned when he mentioned having a date but nodded slowly. “Yea, sure.”

  The garden was growing nicely, Stan noticed. They were all been labeled too, making collecting each one easier. The hippie, after whispering through the bathroom door, returned with a sandwich bag which Stan began to fill with small portions of the selections: basil, parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. With the goods collected, he turned to the hippie and smiled.

  “That all y’need?” She’d asked, returning the smile.

  He nodded.

  “You don’t want any pot?”

  “You know I don’t smoke.”

  The hippie shrugged and grin, “Whatever’s good for you. Have a good one.”

  Stan nodded and left. “Sure. You too.”

  Back in his room, Stan dropped the contents of the bag into the bowl and pulled a bottle of extra virgin olive oil—disappointed that he didn’t have something more "spiritual"—from the top shelf of his “kitchen” area and gave a few hard shakes into the water, which had begun to turn a brownish-green. The globs of oil clung together and swirled with the vortex of the water’s current as Stan retrieved the hand and submerged it into the concoction. It bobbed on the surface for a moment and then, as if it knew its destiny was to be brined, suddenly sank to the bottom. When the process was done, he smiled at his work as he put the bowl into the fridge.

  A full day passed, the events forgotten as soon as they occurred, and Stan hurried through all the necessities in a rush to get back to his room and the hand. His attentions were no longer centered on catching the dorm thief, but instead the power that he had felt when the creature had connected minds with him. He wanted that power, and when he was sure that enough time had passed he pulled the hand from the bowl and placed it in a frying pan.