The full moon came, as it always does. I was afraid to go with Jim that night, but we had become so much closer by then; I couldn't stay away from him. The fact that we never saw each other except at night had not yet become an issue, and it was this night that I decided I would have to tell him before it did. At his apartment, that is. First we had to go out.
We went to a dance club and hardly sat at our booths all night. I was leading him in most dances tonight; the moon had given me rhythm, for once. Jim, being human, lacked my energy and eventually insisted that we take a break. He ordered a beer, and I just sat and stared at him. Tonight, I thought. Yes, the time is right. But at his place…
"Whew!" he shouted over the music. "How do you do it, Mare? You're not even sweating!"
I shrugged and kept on smiling.
"Sure you don't want something to drink?" he asked. Not even a Coke?"
"Mmm, not this time, no thank you," I said, reaching out and playing with his fingers. "I think… I think maybe we should, maybe we could go back to your place? Could we?"
He took my hand and squeezed the fingers gently. "Sure," he said. "Anything you like."
I remember he had a lot of trouble getting his keys to unlock his apartment. I waited patiently while he struggled, pounded, then started swearing at the door, at which point I gently nudged him aside and turned the keys for him. I went inside while he put his keys away.
"Nice touch," he said with a bit of jealousy there, "Remind me to get you next time I'm locked out."
"You invited me in," I murmured, "Nothing could keep me out now."
"Huh?"
I came to my senses then and faced him.
"Sorry; nothing. Just talking to myself."
"Ah. Well… So. Like anything, first? I mean, something to drink? Eat?" He started to walk past me, but I took hold of his tie and pulled him toward me gently.
"No thank you," I said, and started kissing him. "I'm trying to cut down." Later, I thought. After we're done, I'll tell him.
We kept at it a while, and Jim hit all the right spots to get me worked up (i.e., the neck), until I took his hand and made him follow me into his bedroom.
"Not quite so… shy as I thought," he murmured. "Are you?"
"Is that what you want me to be?"
"Mmm, maybe not tonight," he said as we sat on the bed and commenced lip-mashing. I must admit that I turned on the charm during that kiss, which can have the effect of flooring even the most hard-hearted of men.
"Ohhh, God," he said as we parted. "That was incredible."
"Like some more?"
"Oh, yeah," he said, so I gave it to him.
I knew I was going to tell him after we were done. That was always in the back of my mind. I had only once been with a man during a full moon before, and I could hold it back no longer; I had to have this one time with a man, especially a man who I was coming to love.
I had no idea I had lost control until it was almost too late. All I remember for the most part was how incredibly alive I felt for the first time in years, nay, centuries, how exhilarated, and, it turned out, how hungry. I looked up at the ceiling during my climax, then shut my eyes and let my thoughts soar. I opened my eyes again and locked gazes with Jim, who had become suddenly serene the moment my eyes met his. I could feel his thoughts, and they were all of me, and I decided then and there that I loved him with all my heart, and I brought my face close to his and kissed him anywhere and everywhere, working my way to his neck, and there was a hot, sweet rush of liquid flowing into me, renewing me, making me
"Oh, God…" I whispered soon after I came to my senses and looked upon Jim's limp, seemingly peaceful form. "Oh, Jesus… What have I done? Oh, God, forgive me, I thought—I thought I could control myself!"
I scrambled off Jim in a panic and stood at the edge of the bed, stark naked, eyes threatening to cloud with tears. "Oh, God, oh, God" was the only coherent thought I could summon for many moments, before a scrap of reason found its way into my head, and I crept forward to reach for his wrist. A pulse; a strong one!
Holding back tears, I fumbled out of the bedroom to look for something to write on. I found some in the kitchen and scribbled a hasty message. I was terrified that he might be awake when I reentered the bedroom, but he still lay there, sleeping but now a bit anemic. I put the note by his nightstand, gathered my clothes, and left as hurriedly as I could.
I was so distraught as I walked from his apartment toward the bus stop that I started running—a slow jog at first, but getting faster and faster until I was running far faster than normal humans can, but I didn't stop there. I couldn't care less then if anyone saw; I transformed into a bat in midstep and flew away toward home.
"Call Jackie, call Jackie" was my one thought this time as I arrived home. She was my best friend, my one-and-only confidante, to whom I could tell anything and everything. If she couldn't give me advice, she would at least listen, I knew that.
Busy tone. I hung up and dialed again. Busy again, and again, and again, until my frustration built up into a rage, and I almost broke the phone slamming it down, so I broke the wall instead. Slammed my fist straight into it. I was going to do so again, but common sense saved the night, and I instead let myself fall forward onto the kitchen counter, buried my head in my arms and wept the night through.
Chapter 36
"I don't get it." That was Jim.
"What do you mean, you don't get it?" That was me.
It was the next night, in Jim's apartment. Jim looked as I expected he would: pale, drawn, circles around his eyes. He wasn't completely ghastly, though, just a little ill.
"Well, what do you mean, you're a vampire?" he asked. You like to wear black and drink blood or something?"
"I don't wear black, where'd that come from?"
"Well, where are you coming from?"
"Look, I can see we're not getting very far here," I said. "I don't see where your confusion is coming from. Jim; I'm trying to tell you what I am, because—well, because I care about you, and—and to explain things to you."
"Oh, my God," he said suddenly.
"What?"
"You like dead things, don't you?" he said. "Oh, please tell me you're not into dead things!"
"I am not into dead things," I said. "Don't be morbid. Jim; what exactly do you think I mean when I say I'm a vampire?"
"I don't know," he said. "You like blood, I guess. What—"
"What—what is a vampire, Jim? This is important. I want to know what, to you, a vampire is. Real or imagined, I don't care."
"Uhh—well, as far as I know they're guys who bite beautiful girls' necks and fly around."
"And that's it?"
"I guess, so what is this about, Mare? What I really want to know is why you left last night like that!"
"That's—that's part of what I want to say, love," I said. "But it's important that we get this first part settled."
"You don't bite beautiful girls' necks, do you?" he joked.
"Um—why don't we try this, then," I said, rising and moving in front of the couch. "You've already voiced the misconceptions about us that I thought you would. Now I don't blame you; really, I don't. I mean, you've been taught what everyone else was taught."
"What's this about, Mare?" he asked, a touch of fear in his voice.
"I just want to clarify some things," I said. "Above all, I want you to remember one thing: Dracula was an asshole. All right?"
"Yeah, I can agree with that," he said, smiling nervously.
"I have to prove to you that I'm telling the truth, or we'll go nowhere from here," I continued.
"Prove—? You're going to prove you're a vampire."
"Yes, Jim. And please don't be afraid. You won't be harmed in the slightest."
"Wait a minute, what—?"
His words stopped the moment I began concentrating, and then dropped to the ground. By the time my hands hit the floor, they'd become wolf paws. The transformation was complete.
The smell
of fear was so strong it almost had me afraid. Jim's aura was going crazy—jumping and flickering and shifting all over the place to match his chaotic thoughts. I heard him make a noise as though he were about to scream, so I transformed back and held my arms out to try and calm him.
"Now—now please don't yell or scream, Jim, it's OK, I won't hurt you," I said, and he cringed back on his couch, mouth agape.
"How the hell did you do that?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.
"It's all right, love," I said in my most soothing voice. "I'm… I'm not going to hurt you. I just wanted to prove I was telling the truth."
"Neat trick," he said, forcing a laugh. "How'd you do it?"
"It's no trick, Jim," I said. "That was real."
"Yeah," he said, his aura still crazy, "Yeah, sure."
"May I sit beside you?" I asked. "I won't hurt you, I came to talk to you, Jim. That's all I came for."
"Uh… uh, sure," he said. "Have a seat."
I sat beside him and took his hand. He looked at his hand, then at me, then looked down, apparently afraid to look at me anymore.
"Thank you," I said. "Look; I know it's hard for you to believe, but—"
"A werewolf," he murmured. "My girlfriend's a werewolf."
"A werewolf? No, no, Jim, that—I'm a vampire! That's what I was trying to show you!"
"Well, why didn't you change into a bat, then?"
"Do you want me to?" I asked, rising.
"NO! Uh, no; no. That's OK," he said, pulling me back down. "Really."
"Well, all right," I said. "But I am not a werewolf."
"Of course you aren't."
I sighed and fought for my next words. "So, then, Jim," I began, "I came here, not just to tell you this, but—but to apologize, also."
"Apologize?"
"Yes, I—you see, I was going to tell you this last night, but—well, it was the full moon and all and—"
"The full moon."
"Yes," I said. "Just like tonight. Well, not like tonight, because last night's was fuller so its effects were stronger and—"
"Hoa, hoa, hoa, hoa," he said. "Hold on. Full moon? You mean you are a werewolf."
"No, I am not a werewolf, Jim, please listen to me!"
"Fine; fine," he said. "You're not a werewolf."
"Oh, Lord, you still don't believe me," I groaned.
"No, I do," he said. "Really, I do. You're a vampire, and—and you turn into dogs. I mean wolves. Sorry."
"You don't believe me," I said. "I can feel it in you. I can feel your emotions, Jim, when they're strong enough, and right now—"
"Can you, now."
"Yes. And right now you're confused. Worried. Not sure whether to believe me or feel sorry for me. And I don't blame you. Really I don't."
"You keep saying that."
"Sorry," I said. "But—look. Whether or not you do believe me, I came to apologize to you. Because I was supposed to tell you last night, but I lost control, Jim. I swear I didn't know what I was doing until it was almost too late. I almost—I almost converted you, Jim. And I only thank God that I didn't, because if I did, I—I don't know. I don't know what I would've done."
"You almost 'converted' me?"
"Yes, it's—it's our word for making people into vampires," I said quietly.
"You… almost made me a vampire?"
"Yes, Jim," I whispered. "And I'm so sorry. I thought I'd be able to control it, I—I'd never been with a person before on a full moon, and I guess I found out the hard way why."
I had barely finished speaking when Jim suddenly leaped up, bolted from the room, and ran into the bathroom. I followed him immediately and stood in the bathroom doorway. Jim was in front of the mirror, inspecting his neck. Inspecting what I'd done to it.
"Jesus…" he whispered.
'I—I'm sorry, Jim," I said, "Please let me explain—"
"Those are teeth marks!" he cried.
"Yes, but I didn't—"
"You bit me!" he yelled. "You actually bit me! Jesus Christ, I thought those were shaving cuts!"
"Jim, if you let me explain—"
"You!" he cried, facing me and backing away. "You get away."
"But—but—"
"Get away from me! Go suck somebody else, you hear? You're not getting any of my blood!!"
"But—but I'm not—!"
"Get away!" he roared, suddenly lunging forward and shoving out of the bathroom and against the wall. Then he ran to the living room and looked about frantically while I came after him.
"Jim, please!" I cried. "I—I came to talk about that! I didn't mean—!"
"You stay away from me! Get! Get out!" he yelled, rushing into the kitchen. "But Jim!"
He rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a butcher knife. A butcher knife!! It didn't matter if it wouldn't harm me; he was ready to kill me! I backed away while he advanced slowly.
"Jim, you can't mean this!" I cried, my voice starting to choke. "You don't really think lever meant to hurt you?!"
"Stay away from me," he said, his own voice wavering.
His eyes were watering. I'd never been more tempted to charm somebody as now, but I couldn't. Not him. I couldn't do that to him…
"Please…" I begged, tears falling now, "Please, Jim…"
"You're not getting my blood…" he said, tears watering his cheeks, too. "You're not making me like you!"
He'd backed me up to the door now. I stopped but he kept coming. Soon he was only two feet away, the knife pointed at my throat. Perhaps my own fear prevented me from taking it from him, or even charming him. Either way, I could take it no longer, and I reached behind me and turned the knob on the door and started opening it.
"Oh, God, Jim," I whispered. "I thought you wouldn't be afraid…"
"Please go," he said. "Please leave."
"I'll leave…" I sobbed. "I'll go. I'm sorry, Jim… Please forgive me…"
"Gooo!!" he cried suddenly, and I panicked and flew through the door. In the hallway the door suddenly slammed shut in my face, and bolts and chains were being done.
"JIM!" I cried, but no response. "Jim…" I then whispered, and walked away.
At Jackie's the next night I had reached a stage of numbness. I spent most of my time there just sipping my coffee and staring at nothing. Jackie sat with me a while, but then went into her darkroom. For now she sells the admission tickets at a nightclub, but would rather make a living doing free-lance photography.
I wasn't really there for advice anyway. I just needed to be around someone. Jackie understood that and knew she didn't have to sit there all night and pity me. I was doing a good enough job pitying myself, anyway.
A sudden wind blew into the apartment, and I didn't even turn to look, but soon there was a Whooosh sound, and a shadow appeared. I turned enough to see that Theresa had flown in through the window.
"Oh! Hello, Mara," she said cheerfully. "Where's Jackie?"
I pointed to the closed door.
"Oh," she said, and went over to knock on the door. "Jackie? It's me, Theresa. Will you be out soon?"
"Well, not for ten minutes at least!" was the muffled reply. "Something important?"
"No, just came by to visit," she said. "Do you want me to leave?"
"Not if you don't want to" was the reply. "Sit down, if you want. I'll be out."
"I'll be right here!" she said, and headed to the table where I was sitting. She sat in the chair in front of me and smiled.
"She's popular tonight," she said. "Are you just visiting, too?"
I shrugged.
"Something wrong?" she said.
"I'm fine," I said. "Just came for some coffee."
"Ahh," she said. "You know; you are such an enigma, Mara." I cocked an eyebrow. "I've tried for years to figure out what makes you tick, but—nothing. You're not like any other vampire I've known."
"Is that good?"
"I don't know yet," she said. "For instance, how you were converted. I don't believe you've ever told anyone that story." I
shrugged and sipped some more coffee.
"Long ago I was happily married, and then along came someone who didn't believe that I was," I said. "Beyond that it's just details."
"Yes, yes, the details, woman," she said. "It's the details I do want."
"Why?"
"Because the only thing that's ever said of you is that you're from England, and that you're thousands of years old. But you won't tell anyone any more. Not even Jackie."
"She's never asked," I said. "So you're saying, you're only interested in this for historical purposes, is that it?"
"Yyyyyes," she said as though she were forcing it out. "You know that our history is my hobby. For historical purposes, then. Perhaps you'd let me interview you."
"Ah hah," I said. "You know, I'm really not in the mood for any discussion right now, Theresa."
"Well, it can be later, then. Please? For instance, I'd love to know if it's true that you were converted by the first vampire! Is that true?"
"I'd rather not discuss this right now, Theresa. I get headaches thinking about him."
"So the First is a he," she said. "But that means you were converted by him. Or knew him, at the very least. Do you remember his name?"
I sighed in frustration and looked away.
"His name, Mara," she continued. "All I need is his name. Then from there I can—"
"Look, just leave me alone, all right?" I cried, flinging my arms about. "Stop asking me about the goddamned 'First,' all right? I told you I don't want to talk about it!!"
There would have been silence afterward, except Jackie's apartment was shaking from the force of my anger. Books quivering; furniture shaking; pictures banging repeatedly against the walls. Soon after it started, Jackie bolted from her darkroom.
The Vampire Memoirs Page 33