“Regina, you don’t have to wear those coveralls here. Those are only for cleaning out the switchboards. We do that only once a month,”
“Oh, good to know! Thank you!” Regina replied, flashing a mistrusting smile.
Cassandra went off, while Regina studied her manuals like an erudite, and then read through the operational procedures, and casualty measures. They were very much like when she stood the EPCC watch onboard a naval ship, though the generators were specks in comparison to electrical beasts outside. Once every two hours, as was the pattern in the logs, she roved outside to check the loads and check for arcing and sparking through the sight glass of the commutators. She roved the lower level of the load switchboards, where there was a clear glass in the center of the room over a neon-green pool of what seemed like water. The green lighting here also came from floorboard LED’s, that made the place look like a dystopian setting for those surprise zombie-attack video games. It almost made her want to carry a weapon into the space. The uptakes weren’t any less hair-raising, as clouds of odorless steam rendered the place with low visibility and the air so thick she was stifling. This was the only place that had overhead lighting fixtures that didn’t work the way they should have and were poorly maintained. Each corridor was separated by a giant silver caterpillar of a steam pipe and had ten fixtures running lengthwise down the grated steel walkway, but only about one or two per walkway ever did work. All the lights might as well have been out. At the right corner of the uptake room, there was the booth Cassandra had mentioned, with the glass window full of clean, empty bottles, and next to the entrance of the booth there was a twenty-rung white ladder that led up to a closed hatch. The mediocre workmanship of the light fixtures perturbed her to no end. Back on the ship she would have held up her subordinates from liberty if the lighting in a main control space was that much out of commission. It was bulbs, starters, or ballasts, how hard could it be! Hours went by, and she took her samples on all six generators, monitored switchboards, and roved the spaces each passing hour out of sheer boredom. After forever, her relief showed up at 0545 in the morning. Office Creep walked into the booth of the control room, with a cup of hot chocolate and a box of donuts. He offered her one and she politely declined.
“I never did get you name from the other time, sorry for not introducing myself. I’m Radu,” the guy waved.
“Oh hey, my name’s Regina,” she replied sweetly.
“That’s a good name for you. You can relax though, this isn’t a military setting,” he smiled at her through sips of coffee, and bites of a sloppy jelly doughnut. They turned over and later she drove on home, then fell asleep until noon. When she woke up, she went downstairs to turn on the television and watched the headlines of the local news with English subtitles.
“Six young girls returned to their families after vanishing in thin air last Friday. The common factor they all share is that all of the victims claim to have no memory of the events nor how they were rescued, but were reunited with their families as of last night,”
Those old folks said there was no crime here. The second night as she went to work, thick black nebulas that did not budge with the howling wind were settled lowly on the streets. She needed her headlights to see tonight, and she drove ten miles under the speed limit, which made her worry about arriving late.
Cassandra didn’t even notice her tardiness. The two girls became more acquainted that night, and Cassandra stayed about half an hour past her shift end to have a pleasant conversation with Regina over coffee. Against her anxiety, she ended up accepting an invitation to a bar that weekend, which she probably did need so she could unwind. She was finally left alone close to midnight, and she inserted her headphones to listen to music while she studied and learnt her job. She sat in the booth for an hour, before she went outside to rove, jumping to the deck off the last two rungs of the ladder. The invitation to the bar did subtly remind her of the band, “Cold Iron,” which she completely forgot to mention to her new possible friend. It had slipped her tired mind, due to her adjusting to everything. But once more, the lingering thought of the possibly alive “Vampire Enttu” came back to life. It made her uneasy and caused her hands to tremble as she took hourly logs, nervously scanning her surroundings. The rest of the night she was hypervigilant and didn’t linger in dark corners for too long.
She put in her earphones to let her mind wander away from the dark thoughts, and she sang a sweet tune along with the music while she perused the lower level. After checking for ground, she was just about to go up the stair well again, when the sudden loud snapping of multiple tripping breakers made her jump out of her socks.
“FUCK!” she cursed.
She ran out of the load breaker room and back up to her technical manuals to check how to mitigate this casualty. Just her luck, it had to happen on her shift. First thing was to look at the mimic board to see what was lost and then work breaker by breaker. But when she looked at her mimic board, she was even more flabbergasted. The indicator lights for the generators whose respective switchboards dropped load were still all on, meaning, the generator breakers were still on! Only the loads dropped, but from the ancient naval technology she was used to, this incident was in no way possible! She visually verified that each generator breaker located next to the generators was still on and that there was no arcing or sparking. She then went down to the switchboards to reset each individual load, conducting ground checks for every, single breaker. The process took about 45 minutes as she was very meticulous about electrical work.
After the casualty, and checks and re-checks, she worked the rest of her shift quietly, still listening to music until her battery ran low. Radu showed up to relieve her at 0530, with not much small talk to strike up.
“A past life brings you here,” he told her, and she couldn’t tell if he was joking with her or not.
“What?” she asked him, almost scoffing at him.
“Nobody just comes to Romania on a whim. The darkness calls its mistress,” he bellowed, almost mockingly.
“What are you..”
“I am joking Regina. Relax. It’s supposed to be poking fun at the thought that all Romanians are associated with vampires!”
“Oh. Well, you guys sure talk an awful lot about them,” she remarked, before leaving him alone on his shift.
It seemed Friday night couldn’t arrive soon enough after two uneventful days until then. June the first was finally here, but the air still had winter’s bite at night. They took the M3 downtown to a district full of dive bars and parked in a lot horizontally along the embankment of a glistening creek. The BMW reflected the moon blue-black along its glossy noir enamel. Darkness reigned supremely inviting, enhanced by the lunar charm. The tread of Regina’s high heeled combat boots that she wore with a black and red lace and jewel-embroidered dress self-declared her the Queen of the Night in her own mind. Her lips were blood red, and nails blacker than the dark side of her soul. Tonight, she felt truly immortal and she owned the night.
In all her grand decadent splendor, she didn’t even need Cassandra at her side, but went along with her anyway to effortlessly blend into the sinewy atmosphere. She was a star shining through the black holes and cobwebs, embracing the darkness that made her burn ever brighter. Her presence stood out for miles ahead far away, and unconsciously, she ignited foreign thoughts of lust and procreation among any male who laid eyes on her. You’re too beautiful and you wear the morbidity too well to be hanging out with that mere mortal, my dear.
Inside of an underground bar, Nosferatu’s Coffin, a leather-clad Vittorio was tuning his guitar, and offered to tune Enttu’s bass guitar, though the aloof vampire was ignoring everyone as he deeply meditated on a black velvet chaise. Marc was flexing his arms with two black painted drumsticks in his hands, and swung them about, careful not to accidentally whack the blonde sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed and palms out at his sides. That would have been dreadf
ully disastrous for all of them, as only they knew what happened if anyone got on his bad side. Vittorio looked fabulous for the night show, dressed in a studded black leather jacket, black pinstriped slacks, dress shoes, and a plain white tee. He gelled his hair excessively and sprayed on a bunch of Drakkar Noir. Marc was wearing a sleeveless Ramones tee with his black chino cargo pants and was wearing his lip and tongue rings. Of course, the half-vampire Enttu wore something old but richly elegant. He wore black on black, with a black velvet cape embroidered with gold thread, and lined in red velvet inside. He wore his Valentino shoes that were becoming his favorite pair, with pointed silver steel toe on the outside and a slight heel that elevated him an inch taller to the height of six-foot-two.
“Tepes, we’re about to be next in five minutes, so quit daydreaming about vampire pussy,” Vittorio vulgarly poked fun at him. Enttu didn’t reply but made a face of obvious displeasure at his comment. She comes from the southeast, and her intoxicating aroma is giving her location dead away. She dresses well, just as I wouldn’t expect anything less from her. Is she going to recall our deceased mementos in this lifetime like I do of her? How do I do this without frightening her away. But….she is a child of the moon. My moonchild.
His detective comrades, whom were his bandmates that night which they finally had off, both grew increasingly anxious. Marc was stupidly about to place the tip of his finger on the tip of the dhampir’s nose, harmlessly, when his electric blue eyes opened and made Marc jump back.
“What? I’m not gonna bite you. Yet,” Enttu joked with Marc, budging an ultra-rare smile where the top bridge of all of his pearly white teeth and top fangs displayed suavely.
“About fucking time, fang bang,” Vittorio told him.
“Let’s start off by playing something by ‘Fields of the Nephilim,” the vampire kindly requested his bandmates. Vittorio passed him his all-black flying-v bass guitar on a leather shoulder strap.
“Moonchild!” Vittorio exclaimed.
“You read my mind since the first time I ever met you,” the dhampir said.
He was in a casual, sultry mood. The men stepped out of their room, and walked to their equipment onstage, where the large black curtain was still closed, but the cacophony of expecting fans overwhelmed the bar. Enttu cued Marc and Vittorio to begin on his note after the first acapella bar. Screaming fans outside were stressing him out, but he was only going to be focused on entertaining the one fan whose blood he could smell, and it drove him insane with a bloodlust hard to conceal. It was just an act as far as the rest of the world on fire could care about. This is for her.
In a darkened sea of black-clad mortals, Cassandra and Regina sat at the bar table directly across the stage, sipping their second round of drinks, as they waited for the show to begin. Smoke filled the bar from a machine, and the loud whispers of the word, “Moonchild” repeated exactly four times. Then, the strum of guitars flooded the ambient from the blaring amplifiers, and the curtains flew open to welcome the band to the audience. A sea of hands flowed in waves up in the air, as the lead singer stepped front and center, with the microphone pressed to his lips. His electric cobalt eyes stared dead ahead in tunnel vision, scanning the mortal plethora below him.
“Longevity hear my fame, longevity hear my fame,” his low baritone voice crooned throughout the bar. His own voice alone was unexplainably polarizing and soothing. It lured everyone in the bar near the stage like he was the only light in thick pitch blackness, though from observation, he wasn’t any less dark. Regina squinted her eyes in disbelief, trying to get a good look at what she was seeing with her naked eyes. He wasn’t even walking, he was gliding, and the blue aura around him was not an effect of lighting.
Only to their own knowledge were they aware that they were magnetized to one another. Enttu made out the slim, black-haired and red-lipped Regina who had mile-long legs in the short black dress, that welcomed some very lascivious thoughts about her. She was staring blankly at him, awed at how beautiful his hair flowed and cascaded around his sharp jawline. He was the one, she was the one, in dream, and now in this present-time moment. The living souls of the mortals faded away and vaporized to crystal clear air, which only left them two alone.
The music seemed to echo far off in the distance, though she was amidst the metal concert. In the blink of an eye he stood before her, glowing from moonlight, and his cape picked up with a cool breeze. He swung his arm around her waist and pulled her up to his chest, and handed her a single, lively red rose he had guarded just for her. His fangs were plainly visible, and his electric blue eyes delved nostalgically into hers. She had the familiar fire in her irises that he was so fond of, and that is how he knew in that moment, that she was unmistakably the woman he suffered for through eons.
“You don’t remember me yet, do you?” he said softly, and cupped the side of her warm cheek with his pale, cool hand. A single, crystal clear tear rolled down her cheek, as she was very unsure of what was going on. Even yet, strong feelings of ancient longing for a past lover overwhelmed her, which compelled her to bury her face in his broad chest.
“This isn’t an act, isn’t it?” she asked him with trembling cherry lips, “You’re really him, aren’t you? You’re the Vampire Enttu, and none of this has been a dream…”
“I’m your vampire,” he told her, and then, he softly kissed her, but his saliva tasted like blood, and she ingested a minute amount of it.
Her loud gasping startled Cassandra, who had finally gotten Regina to snap out of her momentary trance after she tapped her arm a few times. She stared at Cassandra through bewildered eyes as if she had just seen a ghost. Up ahead, the sound of the playing band overwhelmed her sense of feeling once again, and she was relieved. A decent metal cover of the song “Wicked Game” was being played by the same band, but the blonde-haired lead singer kept her locked in his gaze like a prized possession. That wasn’t an act, and yet no one else saw anything.
After the show, the two girls walked half a block away from Nosferatu’s Coffin, and went into a hole-in-the-wall local Thai cuisine across from a pier. They were famished and a bit too much under the influence to be driving. They stayed here for an hour, and Regina chowed down on a delicious portion of spicy rice noodles with seafood. After late night chow, they were headed back to their car, and the cold temperature stung on her bare legs. Cassandra ran back into Nosferatu’s to use the bathroom, so Regina agreed to wait for her in the car.
Alone, she opened the BMW from her keypad, and it beeped twice to unlock. She fumbled in her purse to grab her phone, when she realized she didn’t have it on her, and she silently panicked.
“Hey beautiful, did you drop something?” a low and soothing voice spoke, looming directly behind her. A chill ran down her back and her blood went ice cold upon realizing there was someone behind her. When she turned, there he was, the rock star, the probable blonde vampire. He towered almost a foot above her, and flashed her a warm, gentle smile, holding her phone in his hand. She sighed in discontent.
“Is it fun pretending to be a human, Enttu?” she said, smart-assedly, with her hand on her hip. He laughed lightheartedly, which made his fangs visible.
“Is it fun driving while intoxicated, Regina?” he replied. He handed her the phone, and then he withdrew a police badge from under his cape and showed it to her.
“My name is Stefan. I should arrest you,” the dhampir flirtatiously told her. She shook her head almost in a sniping manner.
“If you’re going to pick an alias, maybe you shouldn’t use your middle name. I thought vampires were intelligent, assuming you’re not a phony,” she said through a wicked smirk, though she couldn’t play off her attraction to him, nor her awareness of his true undead nature. Enttu Stefan Tepes sighed in disappointment at the fact that he’d just been called out by a human. But I wouldn’t expect less, and that is what I always loved about you.
He squinted his cobalt eyes at
her, and his expression went suddenly serious.
“You will learn,” he warned her, before vanishing into a black blur that pulverized into nothing but the night. Cassandra had made it back to the car, completely oblivious to Regina’s encounter with an undead acquaintance.
Many hours after the bar closed and the show for his band ended. Vittorio and Marc were clanking beers with each other, while Enttu decided to roam the back alleys alone, and get lost in the stir of his mental torment. He conveyed himself to her, he made himself be known to her, but she still wasn’t sure of who she had been before. Could he possibly seek council from Selene to help her? He floated up to the fifth story of a building, and perched on the ledge, with the end of his cape dangling over the edge. His eyes shut, as he silently called her name thrice in the lost universal ocean of his mind. A breeze of cold air blew his hair back and chafed his skin.
She appeared as a glowing azure sylph, standing in a shallow sea of black waters, illuminated by her throne of crescent moons behind her. He bit his wrist, and dipped his hand into the shallow stream, that carried his blood to her feet in an easy flow.
“What are you doing here, Enttu, you have no business near the borders of the afterlife. That girl, you just made it your duty to guard her because you have just put her in danger by making yourself known. You know very well that it wasn’t advisable,” the Goddess scolded him, in her low, womanly voice that echoed in the realm.
“I didn’t come to be scolded, Selene. Let’s not forget that you sent me back, and I’ve been suffering like a fool for eternity,”
“Ha! I wasn’t aware that 150 years was an eternity to a vampire. I dare you to bring that complaint to Sekhmet,”
“Enough. Nayeru never made it, here did she? She was reincarnated in this very time frame. In this very year of 2018, here in Bucharest. She is that girl, isn’t she Selene?”
“Smart as a whip, just like Nicolae. I figured you were finally ready for her return after you awoke from your slumber a score and eight ago. She will remember very, very soon. But because you can’t keep your emotions in your drawers, you just became the catalyst. You’re gonna always must protect her very well and keep a close eye . Don’t ever let her friends be aware of you. You know Basilisk is here. And he is coming after you, he is coming after her, he is coming after the Dragul, he is coming after Narciso, and anyone who carries even a single drop of my blood, and Sekhmet’s blood. I know you and Dracula’s kids don’t get along, which started the bullshit of 1894. You all need to put your quarrel aside. I am warning you, Enttu, it takes darkness to fight what’s approaching, and you have mastered that in your longevity as I knew you would, with Alucard’s blood in your veins.”
The Dhampir Dimension Page 11