by Slay (epub)
Nana Buluku! She had missed him.
She also was starving.
A warm glass was pressed to her lips as he said, “Here, drink pon di nectar jar. I brang yuh new fruits an’ fresh sangre di maison de bleu fleur-de-lis. Tis mixed how ya like, where ya won’t have to take di long rest.”
Her hunger’s intensity made her hiss and her fangs dropped.
Their last meeting had been in 1805. He had saved her from a group of bounty hunter priests wearing a blue fleur sigil appointed by foreign vampyre, not of her kind who wanted their unique abilities: Day-walking and magic. They had learned only part of the secret to brutally capturing her and lover: binding their bodies with anointed ropes, or they thought, and casting them in a secret grave to never be found. Her long braids spilled over her shoulder as she leaned away from the glass to look at him a bit longer, but her love shook his head.
“Duro, Isoke. Mu, lẹhinna Emi yoo mu. You know our ways, okan mi,” he gently ordered her to drink with the endearment of ‘my love.’ He traced the pad of his thumb under her jaw to tilt up her chin. She still appeared twenty-three and her love, twenty-four.
Golden hypnotizing eyes locked on her. He gave a little nod towards the glass he held for her and repeated, “Drink.”
She followed his command to stop her protest and drink, as was their ritual. She always did this, always wanted to see him feed first, but as was their way with whoever was awakened first, she took a quick sip then drank deep. Her hands shook and the glass slipped to the floor.
“E-e…” she tried his name again, but it wouldn’t come. She looked up at him. His eyes glowed the same deep mauve as his aura.
Her night vision cleared. Her love stood before her in suspenders and black pants, an undone white shirt, and boots. Without thought, she rushed him. It was a beat of their synced heartbeat that made her soar to him. She pressed her lips against his waiting neck, as her hand found his desire. When they fell to the floor, the moment her tongue tasted his flesh, the burst of cinnamon filled her mouth as her incisors dug into his heart vein.
Isoke felt the mighty grip of her lover’s hands on her rear. The touch of his fingers parting her lush thighs followed. But it was his sultry stroke that made her blossom in respond. His rich blood filled her mouth and ran down her throat. Molasses. The long overdue reunion made her awakening divine. She hooked her leg over his narrow waist to feel the weight of his body pressed against her, gifting her with the girth of his shaft.
“You’re Ehioze. Ah, di sweet nectar…” she moaned in his mind while she felt him inch his fangs into her neck and felt him sensually stake his claim of her blood and body.
Several hours later, Ehioze leisurely walked around Isoke drinking in her naked voluptuous curves. “The last time you were awake, I saw from ya logs t’was 1905. Tis’ 1916. You’ll hafta call me Easy ‘round here, ‘specially since you’ll be takin’ over the businesses and reopening ya’ boutique.”
“Easy, an’ not Eloi Noble,” Isoke lulled, enjoying his gaze.
That smile of his, which she always dreamed about, warmed her spirit. Though their people would call them the embodiment of evil when they were together, to each other they were pure love, misunderstood by their shared curse. The throbbing against the side of her neck was a testament to that fact. Her lover had fed from her as if starving for air and she adored it.
“Ma belle, I still go by that name, but you know the ways of our people here. Names, we keep it short. Simple an’ sweet, even in this timeframe,” he explained.
Isoke reflected on that reality, then slipped into the frock dress of the period. Subtle cream with a purple waist belt were her colors and complimented the beauty of her rich black skin. They only used their birth names Isoke and Ehioze with each other. To the world, the names their long-dead owners gave them were used to blend in with the culture.
“Been sleep long enough ta still keep ma’ name: Comfort Noble, named afta mi grandmotha as I always say mon cheri.” She strolled to where there were several balms to heal and soothe the flesh she lost in her transformations. There were also tins and bottles labeled Poro Beauty Cosmetics with hair styling items, and an open book, Annie Malone’s Poro Beauty Culture Guide.
“If it ain’t broke, ain’t no need ta fix it, as they say.” Easy came to stand behind Comfort. He combed his fingers through the ends of her hair then muttered, “Keep ya braids, just tuck it as the ladies do. Don’t worry about all the stuff they put on it till you feel comfortable, okan mi.”
“I like mi hair how it tis,” she said in her lilting accent.
“As do I, though I wouldn’t mind seein’ it short again either,” Easy bowed forward and kissed her shoulder. “I’ll help you some with pinning it.”
Comfort laughed while they styled her hair. To the right of her were paintings and various pieces from Easy’s travels home on display. She reached in a drawer of the dresser he always kept for her and pulled out a box, “As you’re always used to.”
“Here.” She gently placed the box in his larger hand. “I made it before ma’ rest during the Great World’s Fair. I fed very well then, an’ freed a few.”
Eyes shining, she gave a fanged smile, “As ya know tis yah replenished gris-gris—”
“To keep me protected an’ camouflaged,” Easy murmured looking it over.
“Mmhmm. Yuh hunger will be abated and they won’t see yuh change with the gris-gris, yuh know that.” She adjusted the beaded bracelet and necklace with its carved wood and bone amulet.
“Wume. Asanbosam,” she stated, naming his race of vampyre. She pressed the enchanted adornments against his warm flesh and muttered verses in Yoruba to a song of protection. Triggered and vibrating with awakened power, the amulet and necklace melted into Easy’s flesh.
He cried out in pain. His fangs dropped to show twin spears of smooth iron and his already dark skin turned ebon. The snapping of bone started then stopped, stalling a full bat, curved hooved bestial transformation. Pleased with her conjuring magic, Easy flashed his smile and the image of the man he was, stayed true.
“Asiman. Wume,” he responded with a brush of his lips against her own.
Jazz continued to flow as Easy updated Comfort about the time, culture, music, dance, and why he was leaving. He laid out a sword to hide in her clothing, a switchblade, and twin silver guns tucked in her dress and purse.
“Come with me. Let me reintroduce ya’ to our home.” He pulled on his newsboy hat. He then took her hand, kissed her knuckles, and led them upstairs. “We’re near Saint Louis, in East St. Louis with our people to keep ya’ protected.”
Easy showed her all the exits of their small home. He then took her to their businesses: his barbershop and the restaurant/club.
“Might be people who may remember me from Alton,” she said, looking around the bustling town full of working Colored folk, and others.
“Shan’t be no problem, baby. Like ya’ said, you’re ya own grandchild.” Easy joked then tapped his hat in a nod of greeting toward fellow passing Black folk.
Comfort laughed with him. She slipped her arm through Easy’s. “I’ve been connected to both sides of the river fa’ so long that I can feel the life flowing through me— I can feel our ‘Gardes du corps de famille.’”
“Yes, our protection from the enemy at the factory hidden near ‘Elleardsville’ district and the farm near Alton is still here on both sides of the river. Our ile oludasile is still strong and our people’s children are protected,” Easy explained about their founding house. “Our pact made sure of that. If anything happens…”
Across the railway tracks of the town near the factories and steamboat row, loud protests cut off his statement. Comfort noticed large groups of men, many holding signs, others staring at every one of color in anger and disparaging vile.
“If anything happens, I know to escape there while draining their flesh of its nectar,” Comfort finished for him. “Now, as for them?”
“Yes.” Easy’s tone be
came grave. He followed Comfort’s gaze towards a group of men who watched them in veiled disgust. “Tis’ not easy here either. The rumors of war have us all on edge, an’ many a’folk are fussin’ bout job loss, among other thangs and the harvests not comin’ in.”
“I understand, tis di same fah us always, okan mi ayeraye.” She studied the men’s ruddy faces as they passed. “I fed while I rest by using the spirit lantern. I tried not to touch our people’s lands, but I was starving.”
Easy pulled her close to him and spoke low. “It’s the way of ya’ curse. I tried my best to replenish what was lost fa’ our people wit’ the spells in our ancestors alter book: the dexoxos. Made sure any child who got sick from ya curse was sent your tonics and gris-gris. It’s simply hard times out c’here. I won’t be around to keep it up so you might have to falter ta our back up plan as ya said before. Our people, an’ our protectors will care fa’ ya ‘cause I let ‘em know I woke ya.”
She always could trust Easy’s brilliant strategic mind.
“Hey, Easy! Ya said ya was gearing up fa’ the war but, ooo wee who knew you’d have a nice lady on the side before ya go. Good, grief an’ beef!” Someone yelled towards them interrupting their intimacy.
Easy laughed with a sharp whistle. “I told ya’ll,” he said with a brilliant grin and swift adjustment of his cap, “I got me a fine wife, but ya’ll thought I was lyin’.”
Comfort’s eyes flashed in the sunlight when she heard the man’s inner thoughts. She gripped Easy’s arm and muttered, “An’ a lady friend? Hmm, is she fah us both? Or do I hav’ta drain her?”
Easy slyly wrapped an arm around her waist as was his way to keep her calm. Then cleared his throat.
“Keep talkin’ that heat, Walt! All ya’ drinks bout ta’be horse piss an’ mud wata!” he threw back in jest to his friend.
Easy kept his eyes ahead observing the passing buggies and horses before answering her. “You may do as you wish with my friend, my love. You know that.”
“Hmm…as you did a decade ago when you tore out my gentleman caller’s neck?” she countered.
A keen sensual laugh came from him. “I didn’t feel inclined to share that decade.”
To the human eye, Easy’s amused grin displayed two gold capped incisors among his pristine white teeth. Comfort lay her head against his bicep. As was their way, they’d had many lovers, shared many lovers, and fed on many lovers. There was no jealousy between them. They had lived too long to entertain such emotion. They always needed each other, and came back to each other in love, lust, hunger, and partnership.
“For ya’ awareness, that there’ comedian was Big Conductor Walter,” Easy winked at Comfort. “He knows the rail and waterways an’ acts as our side of the town’s eyes as my right hand.”
Intrigued, Comfort asked, “As in a deputy?”
“Nah, not like that. Not like the ones that used to hunt us. More like our type of lawmen. Buffalo soldiers cus he was one.”
Easy walked them by buildings and shops owned by the colored folk of the town while stopping in front of a glass storefront that was his barbershop. “Welcome to the start of our new life.”
It was a year later. Beautiful brown bodies skillfully danced with hands lifted in the air to the rhythmic magic of the music that was playing in the juke joint. Miss Jubilee Brown crooned about how a man should know how ‘ta rock dem’ hips in a sassy Blues ditty. People stomped their feet, clapped with the tune, and danced to the drums, horns, and strumming piano keys filling the club. Some were here to get their minds off their troubles and others were here to send off loved ones.
Comfort adapted into her new community. After a year, Easy had been drafted in the war and dispatched to France. With the help of a few of their protectors/kin members, she ran Easy’s club, while Walt ran the barbershop. Going about her business, Comfort had closed her dress shop for the day and came through to check on the establishment.
She served homemade drinks, fresh fried catfish with white bread and the fixins’. While occasionally cleaning up where the staff missed, she also read over the books of her ‘Poro’ sponsored beauty salon in St. Louis. More accurately, where her second home was ‘Elleardsville’ - now called ‘The Ville,’ a bustling community founded by elite and working Colored folk. She remembered the days when it was nothing, but green pasture marked by her French masters, European immigrants. Later Colored city developers would build the first Colored institution, Elleardsville Colored School No. 8 in 1873.
“Now Mista Coleman, you gawn and eat that up. Got some of Miss Sweet’s yam cake for you too.” Comfort smiled in warmth at the elder gentleman who rubbed his big brown hands together in joy. He was one of the band players in the club.
“You have sucha sweet tone to ya voice Ms. Comfort. Reminds me of ma’ Mama back south, mmhmm. She came from Africa,” Mr. Coleman said. There was a knowing in his eyes that held hers for a long time. Comfort sniffed then walked away in awareness. Her people always found each other. It was why they had a community. Mr. Coleman was a distant kinsman and that made her feel safer.
A tightness in her chest made her wipe her brow then rubbed her chest above her heart. There was trouble coming and it wasn’t because she was hungry. She could hear a commotion outside, putting her on alert. The doors to the club flew open and a young woman named Kitty rushed inside with a child on her hip in a panic. Comfort threw down the towel she was using on the table.
“Missy Comfort, Conducta’ Walter gots some problems at Easy’s barbershop! Told me ta’ tell ya to keep the club locked down and move the children.” Kitty looked at her in pure terror and hurt. “The Order of the Blue Flower…I thank’ I said that right. They here with they’ shovels and bindin’ ropes. They takin’ our chilren an’ killin’ us! Burning us!”
Comfort’s hands trembled. The ‘Order’ found them using the hatred and anxiety of the war. The palms of her hands lay in care against her flat belly’s warmth. She felt the vibrant spirit of the life growing there within, a blessing that other vampyre could never have. Yet, those of her kind could. Comfort stared at a young woman who would have to witness a terror like nothing of this world.
Only in the early moments of their reawakening and regeneration could her kind gestate a life, instead of using the curse to bite and turn others. For her, it had happened only once before with Easy and that life was lost as soon as it sparked within her body. She and Easy had been surprised then stricken with grief. Now she was again with child.
It had been a year, but her body appeared to only be a month along. Comfort brushed the wooden bone gris-gris beads hidden in the folds of her attire against her belly: concealment to keep the seed in hibernation. This was the blood power her enemies wanted. The ability to walk under the sun, to feed as they desired and to bring forth life if they so choose. The Order of the Maison de bleu fleur-de-lis who were after her and her kind were only tools for the vampyre brood of European myths.
“Kitty get to the back of the band stage. Everyone up in here follow her! Push that big painting there then get to tha’ river—”
A loud whistle sounded right at that moment.
“That’s Conductor Walter, get to him or his boat and go, now, quickly and be careful! You gonna see some thangs’ that you might not understand but trust me, you are protected. Yes?”
Kitty rushed to the back with a group of fearful patrons, “Easy told us all that you’d look afta us. I won’t be scared ‘bout anythang you do Miss Comfort. Just come on behind us please.”
An inner dam of power snapped within Comfort’s mind. Her ivory teeth shifted within her mouth making her pink gums rise then split to reveal jagged, lengthy fangs. She felt her body warm then sear with intense heat as if she were near a furnace. Her senses became vibrant. She could hear the rapid heartbeats of the scared people around her. The sweet scent of their blood and fear aroused the monster that she was.
This community, her people would get over what they saw today. She hoped. Many had elder
s old enough to remember the old teachings from Africa who told them the stories of creatures like her. Many could see that she was here to protect them and not harm them. She hoped. Some personally knew that she was a guardian here. Comfort didn’t have the time for their fear. The call of the hunt was here.
Comfort arched her back and groaned with the lush pleasure the pain of her change brought her. Her nails grew in their sharp length. Her pulse quickened. Her vision sharpened beyond itself to read the blood pulse and circulatory flow of the humans outside.
In the mirror behind the bar, the image of Comfort’s changing body showed her eyes the color of dark caramel change to a golden amber that glowed with fire. She felt the predator was moving under her flesh. Her reflection revealed that her skin illuminated with light from the source of her hybrid blood-sucking power, her spirit lantern curse.
Pressing her heel into a plank on the floor under the bar. She pulled at intricate wooden trimming revealing a hidden Winchester shotgun. She snapped off her beaded bracelet letting the barbed wire hang as she held a blade against her palm. Comfort remembered the fevered pleas and prayers to the Loa and other deities from her past. They formed into an ululating song and a curse that turned she and Easy into what they were: supernatural vampire hybrids.
Singing, Comfort exited the bar, hearing the doors lock behind her.
Screams of agony, and fear rent the Negro township of East St. Louis. A week prior, agitation between white workers and colored folk caused an incident, where it was rumored a white man shot a deputy but accused a young Colored man from her community. Comfort stood in the result of that lie. Through the thicket of smoke, the sky was on fire. The homes, shops, and schools her people built now burned.