by Finley Aaron
Even though the thought of having that conversation terrifies me, my curiosity is stronger than my fear. And Felix is right—we may not have time to wait around for answers. We have to ask directly. “Okay.”
“Call him. Ask him to come over.”
“He can’t come out until the sun is down. That whole vampire thing.”
“So he’s sleeping in a coffin right now?”
“I don’t know where he sleeps. Some of the aspects of vampire lore don’t seem to be applicable. I’m pretty sure there was garlic on the rotisserie chickens he brought over the other night, but it didn’t seem to faze him. The coffin thing seems like an elaboration. But I do know he can’t come out in sunlight.”
“I’d like to get to the bottom of some of those mysteries, too—figure out just what a vampire is and isn’t.” Felix glances at the clock. “We’ve got a few more hours then.
I want a nap.”
*
To my relief, when I call Constantine around sundown, he not only answers his phone, but eagerly agrees to come over and promptly appears in my living room.
That’s the only thing I’m relieved about, though. Felix woke up from his nap with a questioning strategy, which he outlined to me over more steak (yes, I went back to the grocery store while he napped). He’s going to take the brother-concerned-about-his-sister-spending-time-with-a-vampire approach. While it’s likely to get him answers, it could also lead to some serious conflict with Constantine.
Granted, Constantine has only ever been a gentleman around me. But judging from what I know of his encounters with the other vampires, well…let’s just say I don’t want him to come to blows with my brother.
And from the first look the two exchange with one another, blows seem likely.
I hurry to make introductions while the two of them are staring at one another across the coffee table, standing stiffly with their hands itching at their sides like two desperadoes about to engage in a duel.
“Constantine, this is my brother, Felix. He’s here because he’s concerned about my safety—I explained to him about the vampires. He knows what you are.”
Felix smiles, but it’s not a friendly smile. “I have some questions.”
“I will do my best to answer.” Constantine’s smile is almost friendly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“What, exactly, is a vampire?”
Constantine’s smile stretches to that smirk I’ve grown to know so well. “A vampire is a biologically immortal creature, which typically inhabits a human form, but whose physical limitations are not the same as those of humans.”
“Do you drink blood?” Felix seems to have his next question ready before he’s even finished hearing the answer to the first.
“Personally, no, but some vampires do.”
“What kinds of physical limitations do you not share with humans?”
Constantine’s smile is fading. “I am honored to make your acquaintance, Felix, but I don’t understand the nature of this interrogation.”
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with my sister. I need to make sure she’s safe.”
“Perhaps she has not told you all about our interactions thus far. It is because of my intervention that she has been safe. Your sister’s…research…drew the unfortunate attention of certain unsavory vampires.”
“Do those vampires drink blood?” Felix isn’t backing down.
Constantine sighs.
“Are those vampires going to try to drink my sister’s blood?” Felix takes a step closer to Constantine. “Or have they already?”
“Felix.” I take my brother’s arm. Much as I appreciate his ability to convincingly play the brother-concerned-about-his-sister-spending-time-with-a-vampire role, I’m not so sure it’s an act.
He doesn’t pull away from me, but he also doesn’t tone down his questions. “How old are you?”
“I was born in 1428.”
This is new information. I make a mental note of it.
Felix keeps peppering Constantine with questions. “Do you sleep in a coffin?”
“Not usually.”
“Can you turn into a bat?”
“I cannot.”
“But other vampires—”
“Others can.” Constantine’s amused smirk turns grim. “Please, Felix, I understand you are concerned. Truly, I do appreciate that you have not come at me with a pitchfork or a stake, as others have in the past. But I think it would be best if we sat down and talked like civilized human beings.”
“Are you a civilized human being?” Felix shoots back.
“No. Yet I often find I behave in a manner more civilized than many humans.” Constantine crosses the room to my white board, grabs an eraser, and lifts an eyebrow, asking me without speaking any words for my permission to wipe the board clean.
“It’s fine. Those were just preliminary outlines.”
“To my knowledge, there are four basic types of vampires,” Constantine explains as he wipes down the board and makes four columns. “The weakest of these are those who were born biologically human, but were bitten by a vampire and so acquire certain characteristics of the undead. They are not inherently biologically immortal, but can continue in an undead state indefinitely by drinking blood.”
“Can they turn into bats?” Felix asks.
“Yes, and they often do—since they no longer feel entirely comfortable in the human world, and since they are able to hibernate in bat form, some prefer to live as bats, not humans.” Constantine marks that column bitten, before moving on to the next.
“The second type of vampire is made up of those who are born vampires due to unions between humans and vampires. Technically, there are sub-variations of this type, depending on the type of the vampire parent. They, too, must drink blood to exercise their biological immortality. Like their bitten counterparts, they often hibernate in bat form.”
He writes born of human and vampire in the second column.
“The third kind of vampire, which is more of a true vampire than the previous two, is the vampire born of two vampire parents, at least one of whom belongs to the third or fourth type. Such vampires are biologically immortal and do not need to drink blood to live indefinitely.”
I’ve heard him use this phrase enough, I need to know for sure what he means. “When you say biologically immortal, you mean they won’t die unless…”
“Unless they are killed, correct. Biologically immortal creatures do not age beyond maturity. In the case of vampires, they are impervious to most disease and, indeed, even gross injuries such as those that would kill a normal human. It has been said the only way to kill a vampire is to drive a stake through his heart or decapitate him, though I have not personally performed enough research in this area to be guaranteed of its truth.”
As he talks, I’m silently comparing vampire immortality to dragon immortality. We’re pretty much the same. We don’t age beyond maturity, and we’re difficult to kill—when we’re in dragon form, we’re impenetrable except by dragon fang, talon, or horn.
Felix is scowling impatiently beside me. “And the fourth kind?”
“In a moment, please.” Constantine writes born of two vampires in the third column. “What you must understand, is that, of these three types, the first two are by far the most common. Even when I speak of this third type, there are still subcategories. The parents provide genes according to their vampire type. Their offspring will retain characteristics of both the stronger and the weaker parent.”
Felix frowns. “So, the child of a third-type vampire and a first-type vampire would be…less biologically immortal?”
“They would be longer-lived and more resilient than their first-type parent, but they would also need to drink blood to stave off death. The proper execution method for all vampires, regardless of type, and especially when the true type is unknown or uncertain, is a stake through the heart.”
“Or decapitation,” Felix adds.
Constantine frowns. “De
capitation will kill the vampire, yes, but it will also release his blood. A proper, tapered stake through the heart should cause an injury that is self-sealing. That is to say, little blood will escape before the body turns to dust.”
“Vampires do turn to dust once killed, then?” I clarify. I’m familiar with the mythical tradition made famous by Bram Stoker’s vivid descriptions.
“Indeed. The weaker the type of vampire, the faster the rate of decay. It is as though they lack enough immortality to hold their form. All the pent up decay of their unnaturally-extended lives is finally released, and the body becomes what it would have been apart from its unnatural preservation.”
While Constantine has been using the white board, Felix has seated himself at the dining room table like a student in class. Now he raises his hand. “Decapitation would seem to be the faster, easier method of execution—there is far less precision involved.”
“Indeed.” Constantine acknowledges. “But vampire blood should be avoided whenever possible.”
“Why?” Felix asks.
Constantine puts the cap back on the dry erase marker he’s been using. He closes his eyes and bows his head. He’s quiet for several long seconds before he looks up and meets my eyes. “You recall from the Viața that Vlad Dracula and his brother Radu were subject and witness to various gruesome tortures during their captivity to the sultan, yes?”
I nod.
“Those tortures were, many of them, experiments on the part of the sultan’s magi—”
“Magi?” Felix clarifies
“Mages?” Constantine offers. “It is the same root as the word for magician, but that term has evolved to mean something different, more trickery than truth. You often see magi translated wise men. Astrologers, even, but they looked for patterns and portents not only in the stars, but within living creatures, and in the blood that defines them. The sultan’s magi performed experiments to determine the extent of the power of the blood of the immortal ones.”
“What did they find?” For the first time, Felix no longer sounds accusatory. If anything, his question holds a hint of trepidation.
“What they found could fill a book. Regrettably, it is not a book I have ever had an opportunity to read. Vlad Dracula has read it, or parts of it. I know secondhand of some of its contents—enough to know this: you do not want to decapitate a vampire. You want no contact with his blood. It is a powerful substance. It could undo you.”
Constantine’s words are enough to make me shudder, but Felix still seems bent on learning answers.
“Undo?”
“Humans who become vampires when bitten—it is not because of the fangs, but the transfer of blood that takes place in the biting. Vampirism is, if you will, a blood-borne disease. Any contact with a vampire’s blood carries the risk of infection—the risk of becoming a vampire.”
Felix exhales with a low whistle before asking, “Why did the sultan’s magi perform experiments on Vlad and his brother?”
“They are vampires.”
“Which kind?”
Constantine uncaps the dry erase marker in his hand. The tiny click echoes loudly as Felix and I wait for the answer. Constantine presses black ink against the fourth, empty column. “The rarest kind. The ultimate source of all other vampires. The most immortal, the most powerful.”
The room is silent but for the near-silent squeak of the marker against the board.
Angular letters spell out the words:
Born of
Human and
Dragon
Chapter Thirteen
For a long time, it’s all I can do to stare at the words.
Yes, on a certain level, I’ve always suspected…something like this. Between the Order of the Dragon and the Dracul/Dracula question, biological immortality and the whole winged flying thing, I figured there was a connection between what I am and what Vlad Dracula was supposed to be.
But I was right.
I’m not sure I want to be right.
When I’m finally able to look away from the words, I see Constantine watching me.
His eyes hold apology.
Before I can wonder why, Felix starts asking questions again.
“So, Vlad Dracula was the son of a dragon, literally?”
“Vladislaus Dracul was a dragon. His son, Vladislaus Dracula, was a vampire of the fourth type, the offspring of a dragon/human union.”
“That’s why the women rarely lived,” I realize aloud.
“A vampire is a difficult creature for a human woman to bear. I would never ask such a risk to be taken by any woman, certainly not any woman I care about.” Constantine makes eye contact with me for only the briefest fraction of a second before turning around and erasing everything he’s written on the board.
But in that fleeting glance I saw depths of things that cut through me to my heart. Apology, yes, but also yearning and resignation and regret.
Constantine draws the outline of a dragon in flight, wings outspread. “The dragon transmits to his offspring traits and abilities that are tempered by the biological limitations of the other parent. Whereas a dragon is a large winged reptile, the vampire’s form is influenced by the contribution of its mammalian genes. It retains the shape of the wing, the ability to fly, the ability to teleport and to transform, fangs and talons of diminutive size, and, in place of the skill of breathing fire, sonar. A useful trait, but not nearly as fun as fire.
“Vampires are possessed of other unique qualities that arise from this blending of genes. They are cold to the touch—that is different from being a cold-blooded reptile, mind you. If they were cold-blooded, they wouldn’t actually be able to function at their own typical body temperature. They are also extremely sensitive to sunlight.”
“I thought sunlight was supposed to make them evaporate,” Felix notes a common myth. “Isn’t that supposed to be one of the ways to destroy a vampire?”
“Actually,” Constantine explains, “that arises from a misunderstood observation. Sunlight is a useful tool for getting rid of vampires—by which I mean, if you are being pursued by vampires, flee to a sunny place or open the window curtains to let in the sun. The vampires cannot stand sunlight and will promptly teleport away. Witnesses to this phenomenon may have interpreted what they saw to mean the vampires had evaporated, when, in fact, they simply left. You can also use a mirror to reflect sunlight.”
“Is it true vampires don’t appear in mirrors?” I ask.
Constantine’s smirk is an amused one. “I can see myself in mirrors. If there is a type of vampire that cannot, I am unaware of it. My best guess about how that rumor began, is that mirrors may have been used to reflect bright sunlight upon vampires, who then teleported away to escape the light. You understand how rumors spread.” He shrugs.
“How many vampires are there?” Felix asks.
“In the world today?” Constantine clarifies.
Felix nods.
“I have no way of knowing. Vampires of the weakest type are relatively easy to make, and it’s entirely possible there are dozens or even hundreds at large right now—or could be dozens or hundreds within hours if a vampire felt compelled to go on a biting spree. There have been occasions historically when certain vampires have tried to create an army by biting as many people as they could. That rarely goes as planned. Biting a person only gives them the attributes of a vampire—it doesn’t automatically make them a willing mercenary. It tends to make them confused and angry, and while they might serve their master out of some distorted sense of allegiance, it never ends well.”
“But of the fourth type, or the third and fourth types,” Felix presses. “The true vampires with biological immortality. How many of those are there?”
Constantine inhales slowly and presses one finger to his lips. “I cannot say for certain, because some I assume to be dead, may not actually be verifiably dead, and some I presume to be alive may in fact have passed on, but at my last count of true vampires? Three.”
“Three
?” I’m unable to completely hide the note of incredulity in my voice.
“That I know of,” Constantine insists. “There could be dozens, even hundreds I am unaware of. The world is large and vampires can be quite tiny. They can hide in bat form, they can become dormant, they can breed in secret. They can even arise almost by mistake should a dragon and human…”
“Speaking of dragons,” Felix begins as Constantine leaves the rest of his sentence unspoken. “You said Vlad Dracul belonged to the Order of the Dragon. Were the members of the Order all dragons?”
“I wish I knew the answer to that. I know Vlad Dracul was included because he was a dragon. The Order was a complicated game of smoke and mirrors, really. On the one hand, people feared dragons. So it could be useful to have a prince who belonged to an order of dragons—to be able to threaten the people that, what do you know? Your prince may well be a dragon. Or the prince of this neighboring kingdom, you need to learn to get along with him, because he may be a dragon.
“But at the same time, to be a dragon at that time in history—it was a dangerous thing. Knights were celebrated for slaying dragons. Men were sainted for killing dragons. To claim a person was a dragon—it was something you would not do to your worst enemy.”
I repeat the explanation my mom once gave me for the historical treatment of my species. “To claim a person was a dragon, was to mark him for death.”
“Precisely,” Constantine confirms. “Like most forms of power, it was a double-edged sword. It garnered respect, but also fear—the kind of fear that could lead to death. So, the Order of the Dragon was created as a way, first of all, to place dragons under the authority of a higher power. The dragons were held by their vows to the empire, but also to one another.”
“The best weapon against a dragon, is another dragon.” Felix quotes another lesson our parents taught us from dragon history.
“Yes. And by organizing them together, binding them on oath to one another, the empire was able to exact a measure of control over them, even if no one knew precisely who was or wasn’t a dragon. But at the same time, by association, the members of the order who were not truly dragons—as I suspect some, if not many of them, indeed were not—those members received the fear and respect of a true dragon.”