“What life?” I hissed. “I’m the undead. ” I sighed and shook my head. “I am only here for you, Ezra. I am alive because you want me to be. If I must live in my delusions to stay here, then so be it. Do not ask anymore of me. I cannot give it. ”
“I was hoping this war would give you a purpose,” Ezra said at length. He lay down, watching the shadows on the tent from the fire in the center of camp. “Something to fight against, if not something to fight for. ”
“I fear I’ll never have purpose again,” I said, laying back down.
“As do I,” he admitted.
Part of me knows that he is right. That this isn’t the best thing for me to do, but I don’t know what the best thing to do is. I don’t know how to survive without you.
Since I began writing you last fall, it’s gotten easier for me. The attacks, where I fall to my knees and sob or throw up, have almost completely stopped. I sleep better, although I still dream often of lying in our bed.
I am sitting in the shade of a tree, trying to escape the hot Georgia sun. We’ve stopped to rest for a spell, and many of the soldiers are sleeping, eating, or writing home. Ezra is smartly sleeping, but I am writing you. The way I do on every break. At every chance I get. As if I believe you will receive these letters.
The other soldiers tease me about you, about my devotion to you. When we have a chance to stop at taverns, most of them will bed local women if they can. But I never do. The idea of being with someone that isn’t you repulses me. I can’t imagine the prospect.
Elise, I swear to you, I will never love anyone but you. I cannot even fathom the idea.
But this war has given me some kind of direction. When I am fighting, I hardly think of you. My head is in the battle, even if my heart remains with you. Being a soldier might be the only that makes sense to me.
It’s not that my life has meaning, but what I am doing matters. Because of what we are, Ezra and I have great advantages to help the other soldiers. We can hear and see things before they do and let them know when enemies are approaching. We are stronger and much harder to hurt, so we can take bigger risks.
A lot of our time is spent protecting our battalion, as opposed to simply fighting the Confederacy. But I prefer that. I prefer to know I am saving someone than killing them. In my lifetime, I will see far more death than I can possibly imagine, but I would like to put it off for as long as I can.
We are moving on again, so I must cut this short. But I will write to you again, and again, and again. No matter what Ezra says.
All my love –
Peter
December 12, 1901
Oh, Elise forgive me. The mistake I have made feels too horrible for me to even write. I am drunk, and I know I am drunk. We came to Russia to get away, to hide in the cold and drink too much blood, and oh, how I have drunk too much blood. I simply couldn’t take it anymore. The life we’re leading felt so artificial, and I didn’t want to take Ezra along with me. I wanted him to stay behind, to keep running the business, but he refuses to leave me. I feel so much like Cain must have felt with Abel. Not that I want to harm Ezra, but this feeling that I am his keeper. Or he is mine. That we are meant to watch over each other, but Ezra is good and pure, and I am of evil and will drag him down with me.
Elise, Elise, Elise, what I have done?
We never should’ve left America. Ezra was doing so well in Chicago. He ran a factory and owned a share in the railroads, and we were doing well, it felt all too well. He’d even started to date a young woman named Abigail, and I’d never known him to actually court a woman. He’d only see them for a night and then move on, but something about Abigail struck him. And something about it struck me too. Seeing him happy and in love, building a life. It was raw in a way I hadn’t expected. I told him to stay. I begged him not to leave, to stay with Abigail, turn her into a vampire, and they could live happily ever after. Without me.
But he refused to be apart from me. He chose me over her, and I think I’ve begun to hate him for that. He’s so dependent on me for his happiness, and it’s too much pressure. It’s too much on me. I can barely survive and make myself happy. How am I supposed to do the something for him I can’t do for myself? Why does he need me so much? Why can’t he let me go?
I don’t know what I’m saying or what I mean. I don’t want to leave Ezra. I love him, more than any man has ever loved his brother. But sometimes it’s unbearable. Loving anyone, being loved. It would so much better if I could simply be alone, if he would let me die.
But he won’t and I refuse to be the one to destroy him. I will not do to him what was done to me. Or at least that’s what I tell myself, what I’ve promised him. But I don’t know how much my promises are worth. My word means nothing.
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I gave you my word that you were my one, my true, my only. You were to be my last. But here, in Petersburg, everything has gone insane. The cold has been lovely. The blood is divine. And we lost ourselves. Ezra heartbroken over Abigail, me drowning in guilt.
Was it right to make him leave? No, of course not. But I didn’t make him leave. I could not stay any longer. Should I have stayed? Should I have suffered in silence, watching him fall in love? If that is what happiness required, is that what I should have given him?
I do not know. Sometimes I feel he asks too much of me, but other times I feel it his right. To this day, my life belongs to him. Not in the way that my heart belongs to you. But something about me is still bound to him, and I cannot shake it. I cannot change it. We are for each other.
So we left, we came here. The vampire population in St. Petersburg is five times what it was in Chicago, or any other American city I’ve seen. The cold suits us all so much better. I don’t know why we don’t all move here. It’s marvelous. The nights are endless. The days are frigid. Everyone is so poor, but there is a majesty to the city that reminds me of Prague. You would love it here.
We drank. I’m not even sure how long we’ve been here. Maybe a month, maybe six. It’s all a blur. I’ve never been drunk on blood before, but I’ve been in a constant stupor. The blood is prevalent. They have bars here, and they sell blood in wine bottles. They have bloodwhores on hand so we can feed as often as we want.
We bought a place above the bar. I think it was meant to be a hotel. Ezra sold his factory when we left, and he bought the place, with its gold vaulted ceilings and chandeliers and lush velvet furniture.
We used to frequent the bar. As soon as we’d wake, we’d head downstairs, and stay all night. Then we began to have the bloodwhores and bottles sent up to us. We rarely stepped outside. Other vampires came to our place, and the maids couldn’t keep up with the mess. At least five different phonographs were broken from roughhousing.
The parties were out of control. The way we lived was beyond decadent. Even Ezra took up with bloodwhores in a way I’d never seen him before. It broke his heart to leave Abigail, and he must have resented me. I’m sure he did. But Ezra can never say that. He can never really say anything about how feels. So he took girls to his bed, two at a time, and barely spoke to me.
This was our life. It may have been the closest to being happy I was since you died, because I didn’t feel a thing. I even laughed. I laughed a lot. I laughed with tears streaming down my cheeks, and everyone thought they were tears of joy. But I couldn’t believe my life had become this.
When I sobered up, it was too late. I woke up in my bed with another a woman, a bloodwhore whose name I couldn’t remember. I’m not sure that I’d ever known it. The night came back to me in a rush, and I realized I’d gone to bed with her. In some drunken haze, I’d slept with someone that wasn’t you.
I promised you that you would be my last. I even promised you that when you were alive.
When I realized what I’d done, I lost it. My binge turned into something darker. I didn’t want to live anymore. I couldn’t do it. I was only ruining Ezra’s life, and my own, and everyone else’
s. I’d done nothing good for the world in so long, and it would be better if I weren’t in it.
I went to the bar and started fights with anyone I could. With everyone. I finally found a taker in a vampire named Gunnar, only he’s unlike any vampire I’ve ever met before. I didn’t know that, not when I met him, not when I challenged him. If I was in a right mind, I would’ve sensed the evil in him.
He’s a monster, Elise. A true demon. When he came into the bar, the bloodwhores all scattered. When I had a moment alone with a girl, she explained that Gunnar always raped the girls when he fed, and sometimes he killed them. He’d kill one by ripping out her heart with his hands.
I didn’t know this, not when he eyed me up as he stalked across the room, and I made a snide remark to him. I was looking for trouble, but not even I wanted to be a part of the kind of trouble he brought. His eyes were dark and black. They reminded me of a shark I’d seen at the World’s Fair. Calculating and cold. He was only biding his time to kill me.
Or that’s what I thought. That he’d go after me. But he only watched me, studying me. I’d offended him, so he wanted to hit me where it hurt the most.
Ezra came down to get me just before dawn, as was his custom. If I would become too inebriated, Ezra would fetch me. I was drunk, but not too drunk.
I’d gotten in a small bar fight with a vampire called Petra, but I’d won easily. It left me restless and on edge. I sat on a velvet couch, drinking blood from a goblet, and watched the bloodwhores pick up vampires.
That’s how Ezra found me, and that’s when Gunnar pounced. He leapt at him with a glass bottle, breaking it over Ezra’s skull. Then he sliced open his throat. It wasn’t enough to kill him, but it spilled his blood all over, staining everything around us.
“What are you doing?” I bellowed and tried to defend us against him, but I was weak and slow. Gunnar hit me, throwing me back against the wall.
“All his blood will drain from him, spilling all over the floor,” Gunnar said, and he sliced Ezra’s throat again, since the wound had begun to heal. “And then I will make you lap it up like the starving dog you are. ”
Ezra kicked at Gunnar’s legs, and he slipped in the blood and fell to the ground. Even as weak as he was, Ezra’s always been strong and a remarkable fighter. But what saved him was the fact that he owned the hotel that we lived in, that the bar was located in. So the bouncers were there to protect him, and as soon as Ezra got Gunnar to the ground, they hauled him away.
Ezra wasn’t even mad about any of it, at least not at me. Still holding a hand to his throat to keep his blood from leaking out, he walked over to make sure I was alright. He’s now lying in the next room, resting with a bloodwhore.
I don’t know who I am anymore, Elise. I don’t like who I’ve become. My mourning has turned into something horrible, something that’s selfish and whining. I love you, Elise. And I have sinned against you. Not just by sleeping with someone else, but by dishonoring your memory as I have. I have become someone you would never love.
Ezra almost died because of me. Because of choices I made out of self-pity and jealousy. I won’t let my love for you turn into something grotesque, something that’s holding me back and making me cruel.
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I have to let you go, Elise, my love, my one, my true. It is the only way I can truly love you and keep your memory alive, the way it was meant to be. I have to move on and stop writing you these letters.
I love you. I will always love you. No matter what dreams may come, you will always be the only dream I’ve ever truly had.
Goodbye, my love,
Peter
June 24, 1958
Elise-
I haven’t written you in over fifty years. I’ve thought of you, often, but I refused to put my pen to paper. Ezra deserved a brother again, and I promised him that I would be one, that I would finally allow you to stay in the past.
I think that’s a promise I’ve kept. Since the turn of the century, I’ve begun to prosper, as has Ezra. He went back to being a business man, something he always thrived at, and I helped him when I was around. I went off to fight in both Great Wars, but this time, Ezra stayed behind. He let me go alone, which I think is progress for our relationship.
Being a soldier is still the only thing that truly makes sense to me. The battlefield is the only place where I feel at home in my skin. That sounds horrible, with all the death and terror around them, but it’s because of that that I can focus on being alive and keeping those around me alive. It allows no time for introspection.
I’m between wars now, and Ezra has set up home in Minnesota. I wanted to move back to New York, but Ezra prefers the Midwest. Something about it appeals to him, and I don’t understand what, but I am starting to believe he was drawn here.
The winters are nice, and the lakes are lovely. We built a house on a lake this summer. It was wonderful. Ezra made the plans himself, and we actually built it with our own two hands. It ended up being more work than we anticipated, but it was worth it. It’s a shame we’ll have to move in a few years.
I even got a dog, the first since Hamlet died all those years ago. He’s a Giant Schnauzer, and despite his name, I hadn’t expected him to be as large as he is. He’s even bigger than Hamlet, and I’m certain Hamlet had Irish Wolfound in him. He’s black, and nearly the size of a horse, so I named him after my father’s horse, Lysander.
Ezra hasn’t dated in years, not since Abigail. I don’t think he’s bedded a woman, not since St. Petersburg, but that whole mess spoiled the experience for us both, I think. He’s been chaste and quiet. Not exactly depressed, but something sated.
Until two weeks ago. He came home with a mess of a vampire. She was newly turned and had no idea what a vampire was or how to be one. It was amazing she hadn’t gone on a rampage killing everyone. Her clothes were torn and filthy. Twigs and blood were tangled in her hair. She was a complete and utter fright.
But I liked her instantly. It’s hard to describe the way I feel about her, actually. It’s not the same as it was with you, or as it is with Ezra, but some odd combination. I cared for her the moment I saw her and knew she would be part of my life, a part of our lives.
Ezra was practically falling over himself bringing her in the house. He was in love with her, and I could feel it coming off him in waves. He looked at as if he’d never seen anything more beautiful, but then, he probably hadn’t.
It didn’t take long for us to realize that she is his. They are meant for each other the way you and I were meant for each other. Their blood is bonded together, and because my blood is bonded with Ezra’s, I am bonded with her too.
Her name is Mae, and she’s already a fixture in our house. Ezra didn’t go to work the first three days she lived here because he didn’t want to leave her. Not even for a moment.
I’m certain that she loves him back, but she’s been through some kind of hell. Her transformation had to be terrifying, and by the wedding band on her hand, I know she’s left something behind. She’s still dazed most of the time, but she’s warm.
I hadn’t even realized that our home was lacking warmth until she arrived and brought it with her. It’s as if someone lit a fire in the hearth for the first time. She’s cleaned herself up, and she’s even cleaning the house. Not that Ezra and I were ever that messy, but we’ve lived as bachelors for far too long.
I know I should feel like a third wheel, but I don’t. It’s as if she’s a piece that’s been missing from our lives all this time, and it all feels a bit more complete. Even Lysander seems happier with her around.
I don’t know why I’m writing to tell you this. It’s not as if I’ve stopped loving you or missing you – I never will. But I feel… almost content. If that makes sense. And I thought you would want to know.
Wherever you are, you won’t get this letter. But I wanted you to know that I’m okay. I truly think I’ll be alright.
Your
s forever-
Peter
April 15, 1994
Elise-
I suspect this is how a father feels, and as a first time parent, I wanted you to know. I don’t even know how to describe to you what I’ve been through. The ridiculous nature of it all still seems so unbelievable.
Mae has had the luxury of being born in the twentieth century, and most of the blood she’s drank has been from human blood donations. She gets cold bags of blood from a blood bank and stores them in the fridge until she drinks them.
She has drunk human blood before, but for some reason I don’t understand, she prefers the bag to the fresh humans. It has something to do with guilt. I don’t know that I ever felt guilty from feeding on humans – only killing them.
A few weeks ago, Mae decided she wanted go out to eat, so to speak. She felt uncomfortable having Ezra watch her pick up somebody and bite them, so I offered to go with her. She was actually quite excited, claiming that we don’t do enough things just the two of us.
I took her to a vampire club in downtown Minneapolis. I used to go there a lot in the eighties, when it was disgustingly loud and vibrant. I liked the noise of it. Ezra would never go to it, though – he’s sworn off clubs, and I’m not sure where he finds food exactly.
Mae was thrilled to pieces. She went over a week without eating in anticipation of our big night. Too much anticipation, as it would turn out.
Shortly after we arrived, Mae found her prey. I think she picked him because he looked so easy. He wore flannel and ripped jeans – a fashion trend I’ll never understand and can’t wait until it goes out of style. But there was something clumsily charming about him. Even I had to admit it. It was his laugh, and he laughed at everything she said.
She took him to a back room for privacy, while I lingered out front looking for my own dinner. Fortunately, I hadn’t gotten that far away when she began screaming hysterically for me. I raced back to the room to find him dead. Mae had drained all the blood from him.
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Let me be clear – I was certain he was dead. His heart wasn’t beating, and when I listened for his breath, there was none. But Mae was sobbing, begging me to save him. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, of course, but had merely gotten carried away.
She looked so stricken and heartbroken, and I knew that I had to do something. Ezra wasn’t here, but I’m not sure that any real life saving measures could be taken. I would’ve driven him to the hospital if I thought it would help, but as I said, I was certain he was dead.
The only thing I could think of was turning him, but even that seemed like a terrific long shot. I’d never turned anyone, never even seen it done, and Ezra had told me it only worked on the living. Once the dead were dead, there was nothing that could be done for them.
Letters to Elise: A Peter Townsend Novella Page 6