by Adam Thielen
Tsenka scrutinized the man’s visage. Some of the luster granted by his legend had dulled, but he was still easy to look at. She knew he could see her sizing him up, and it forced a wry grin onto her face.
“Alright Matthias, I will give it some thought.” She closed the door behind her before he could get another word in, then exhaled, placing a palm on her forehead and slowly sliding it down her face.
* * *
“Do I need a mic or anything?” asked the woman with an Australian accent as she shifted about in the rounded, stylized seat. “And what’s with this chair? It’s like I’m sitting in an eggshell.” Her floating nameplate read Kirsty Blain (Friend).
“We have great mics set up in several places,” explained Perry Walters. “Just speak to me and we’ll capture it all.” He decided the chair question was rhetorical, and he didn’t want the crisis of finding a new set of comfortable, less sleek, seats.
“A’ight,” she said, continuing to fidget. Her voice was rough. The front half of her scalp was bald, covered with a sunburst tattoo. The rear half was covered with long blond hair that draped over her chest. Her body was covered in black silk, tailored to her curves.
“Are you ready?” asked Walters, letting a tablet rest in his lap.
Blain stopped fidgeting long enough to manage, “Ya, a’ight.”
“Thank you for joining us, Ms. Blain.”
“You’re welcome, mate.”
“When did you first meet Tsenka Cho?”
“Uh,” she said, looking up. “I think three years ago.”
“Tell us about that,” requested Perry.
“Well,” she began, “At the time, I was a marketing coordinator for Liplast at their Australian territory. Tsenka was there with a team, doing some sort of network audit or something. My department organized a dinner for everyone, and we sat next to each other.”
“What interested you about her?”
“Ah,” Kirsty breathed. “I remember she was real funny. And a total razor.”
“Attractive?” Perry questioned.
“All over,” she said with a grin.
“You were—” Perry began, then changed course. “How would you categorize your relationship with Ms. Cho?”
“I suppose we’re still friendly,” she said.
“And before?”
“Right, ya,” she nodded. “For a while she was my girly.”
“Your girlfriend,” said Walters. “How long were you an item?”
“Bout a year, I guess,” she answered.
“Did you live together?” asked Perry.
“That’s a bit vazzy,” she said with a pursed smile.
Perry smiled. “That’s okay, Kirsty. Anything you don’t want to talk about is perfectly fine. Did the question of marriage come up?”
Blain chuckled. “Gods no. Wadn’t that serious. Besides, she was a tourist, really.”
“A tourist?” questioned Perry.
“You know,” Kirsty said, gesturing toward the journalist. “So she liked girls, but maybe just liked.”
“Oh,” said Perry, realizing what she meant and considering what kind of edits to make in order to keep the family-friendly corporate sponsors happy. “Would you say you knew her fairly well?”
“Ya, for sure.”
“What was she like, as a person?”
Blain folded her hands in her lap and hummed. “You might say she was a little starchy, even in private.”
“How do you mean?” Walter asked, leaning forward a bit.
“Very organized, tidy, orderly, always planning,” she itemized. “She wanted everything in its place, and I drove her crazy sometimes.”
Walters decided to segue. “Did she ever talk about work?”
Kirsty tittered. “All the time. Nonstop. Not a lot of specifics, but her work with the NRI was her life.”
“Did she seem frustrated or dissatisfied with the agency?” he followed up.
“No,” she shook her head. “I mean she got angry at something once or twice, but mostly she was always excited, always convinced that she was onto big things, doing important stuff, that sort of thing.”
* * *
The face of an older Asian man appeared on the wall in front of Matthias. A pre-Collapse American flag mounted on a pole stood to his left, and to his right the flag of the New Republic. The latter was essentially the former rotated forty-five degrees counter-clockwise, with the box of stars replaced with a triangle.
“Matthias! Dammit, you look too good,” the man greeted. That man was the former warden and first chief executive of the Republic. He lifted a steaming mug to his lips.
“Hoi Charles, you are looking well yourself,” replied Matthias.
“Oh, bullshit,” retorted Wu. “Sometimes I regret the turning regulations.”
Matthias gave a courtesy laugh. “Sorry to bother you, Charles. I bet you have plenty on your plate.”
“Ah, not that much these days,” claimed Wu. “The kids consider me a fossil now that I’ve cautioned them against the mistakes of America one point oh.”
“You did what you could.”
“I did, and do,” he added. “Matt, it’s been what, two years since I saw you last? You must have a good reason to call.”
“Right,” Matthias acknowledged with a slight nod. “I wanted to talk about the good old days.”
“I don’t remember any good days anymore. You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Hey, you remember that time we raided that warehouse to rescue that woman?” asked Matthias. “The mother of the escaped mage.”
Wu furrowed his brow in confusion, then raised it in surprise. “Good god, how long ago was that? I think I hid under a car half the time. And that was with that other vampire…”
“Frank,” assisted Matthias.
“Ay, Frank. Shit,” exhaled Wu. “Why are you doing this to me, Matt?”
“Just a little warm-up,” the nocturnal warned. “Remember the mage, Haulstein?”
“Yes, I remember her, too. Sandra. Why? What’s going on?”
“Did she have a kid?”
“No, of course—” Wu said, cutting himself off mid-sentence. “Wait, what? Matthias, things have changed, but I am not sure we should be talking about her.”
“Come on, Wu, it was nearly fifty years ago,” prodded Matthias. “That old story doesn’t matter anymore.”
“And you think she had a child?”
“Can you give me an answer, please?” pleaded Matthias.
“My brain is still working on it, and I am too curious now to let this go, so you first,” Charles insisted, taking a sip from his coffee.
“Fine,” said Matthias. “A girl came to me claiming that her mother was Haulstein’s daughter.”
At this, Charles Wu choked on his beverage. He lowered the mug, coughed several times, and wiped at his chin with his shirt sleeve. “Who?”
“Not saying.”
“Why did she come to you?”
“Says her mom told her a story about working with me,” Matthias explained.
“That makes no sense,” said Wu, exasperated. “She look like her?”
“Not a bit.”
“Well—” started Wu.
“Hold up,” interrupted Matthias. “You said that doesn’t make sense. Why not?”
“I should look into this first.”
“Just spill it already.”
Wu picked up his mug, looked into it, then set it back down. “As I recall, Haulstein had been at KC a couple years before my transfer. Sometimes pregnancies did happen.”
“You didn’t sterilize them?” questioned Matthias.
“Wasn’t our policy,” answered Wu. “Two forces worked against that. The first was the human rights groups. The second was corporate plotting.”
“Plotting to what?”
“That is protected information,” said Wu. “But I think you can figure out why a corp might want to allow breeding.”
“Right,” said Matthias
. “So you got there after.”
“There were certain things even wardens weren’t told,” said Wu. “But I heard things from others. We all talked too much, really. And when we were looking for her, I noticed a gap in her medical records that the doc wouldn’t account for. I had more pressing matters than interrogating him at the time.”
“So it’s true then,” stated Matthias.
“Maybe,” said Wu. “I will see what I can find out. Can you give me any names?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, I need her mom’s name at the very least,” Charles requested.
“Can I trust you to keep this between us?”
“I’m just trying to give you an answer. I am not interested in complicating things.”
Matthias shrugged. “I don’t have any other names. I will give you a ring tomorrow. Maybe I will have more by then.”
“Alright, be careful,” cautioned Wu. “Hey, I heard you aren’t reading the intel briefings.”
“I skim them. Come on, Wu. That chapter is over.”
“Read them anyway.”
“Thanks, Charles,” Matthias said, indicating he was about to disconnect.
“It’s good talking again,” said Wu. “Be well.” The father of the fledgling nation smiled and disconnected.
* * *
“Were the candles really necessary?” Tsenka asked, secretly flattered and outwardly amused.
Matthias sat across from her, his hands resting on the convincingly wooden table, small and round. “Necessary? Only you know that.”
“Ah yes, the twentieth-century male,” she replied whimsically. “Always the predator, never the prey.”
“Whoa now, that term used to have some serious connotations.”
“It still does,” she said, her mouth loosening into a smile.
They stared at each other for a moment, then she continued. “So, what’s on the menu, chef? Not human flesh, I hope.”
Matthias groaned.
“That was weird, sorry,” Cho said.
“Not to mention the entendres,” Matthias added.
“Hadn’t considered that,” she sighed.
Matthias checked his watch then looked up at his guest. “I do see a little of her in you, actually.”
“Be sere, even I don’t.”
“You have pics?”
“A few,” she replied. “No vids though. It is disappointing.”
“I meant her personality, her spirit,” stated Matthias.
“Not very 'crete,” she said.
“I think maybe I want to believe.”
“Seemed the opposite, yesterday.”
“On the contrary,” argued Matthias. “I was searching, even then, for solid footing.”
“Mhmm,” she hummed skeptically. “I suppose you made some calls after I left.”
“I may have.”
“I do work for the NRI,” Tsenka pointed out. “And even I couldn’t find much.”
“Oh, well then,” said Matthias with a smug grin. “I guess you already know that Charles Wu also knew Sandra.”
“Of course, but there’s no way—” Tsenka’s eyes widened as gears turned. She realized how connected her ancestor was to more than one legend. The agent relaxed her face and smiled condescendingly. “I knew you were good for something.”
“I know, but are you?” he shot back, regretting it immediately.
Instead of annoyance, Tsenka replied in an almost sultry tone. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Matthias’s heart quickened. Years of solitude had clearly taken its toll, and even a vampire as pale as he had desires that built over time. The oven’s timer saved him from attempting a fitting response. He met Tsenka’s gaze and smiled before standing and leaving the room.
Tsenka giggled after he left, her cheeks flush. She felt a thrill at the thought of seducing the mysterious and reclusive vampire legend... or being seduced by, either way.
He returned a few minutes later with a processed mimic of roast duck and a bottle of red wine. He carefully set her plate down and poured her a glass, then retrieved his own plate and sat. Tsenka took a sip and coughed.
“This is alcohol,” she observed and questioned at the same time.
“Well, not all of it,” replied Matthias.
Tsenka took another drink.
“Now, don’t get too excited,” cautioned Matthias, gesturing toward the faux duck. “This is grown. High grade, but still grown.”
“It smells great, really,” she replied, sticking a two-tined fork into the meat and slicing a hunk off with her knife.
With the exception of small talk, they sat quietly while eating Matthias’s attempt at cooking. A set of three candles flickered in the center of the table while shadows danced on the walls and romantic French music emanated from a small speaker in the ceiling. Managing to get down most of it with the aid of the wine, Tsenka set down her utensils and scrubbed at her fingertips with a black cloth napkin.
“Why did you quit the agency?” she asked, tipping her glass back to finish her second drink.
Matthias set his fork down. He didn’t care for human food much, and for meat even less. It made him thirst. If she was done, so was he.
“How do I—” he thought out loud. “I’ve lived a while. My son, Shawn, is over eighty years old. I missed a lot of his life. Four years ago he had a stroke. I was out of the country. He lived on the floor for four days before a neighbor checked on him. I don’t want to put him in a home, but he can’t take care of himself. So, I need to be with him.”
“Wow,” whispered Cho. “I’m sorry, I had no idea. Is he here?”
“Yes,” said Matthias. “Just down the hall. He’s not awake for more than a few hours a day, and he can’t hear anything quieter than a shout, but I try to make the most of the time he has.”
“That’s incredible,” she said. “You’re incredible… for being so devoted, I mean.”
“It’s not easy,” he said. “But I’m not trying to race a clock. I have the time, and I owe him that.”
“I understand.”
Matthias absentmindedly played with his food for a minute, then stopped himself and stood. “I’ll take your plate, madam,” he said with a slight bow. “Would you care for a slice of cherry pie?”
“Oh, no,” she said, holding her hand up. “I can’t get weighed down. Gotta stay ready for action.”
Matthias studied her face to see if she meant for it to sound provocative, but Cho gave nothing away. He took their plates to the sink then returned and refreshed her wine glass. He himself was thirsty, but not for the wine. Matthias’s eyes drifted to Tsenka’s neck any time he forgot to consciously avoid it. He felt embarrassed by the idea of drinking blood in front of her, and so he decided to suffer in silence.
“So…” Tsenka began. “What did Mr. Wu have to say about me?”
“Well,” said Matthias, pushing the haze aside. “He said there’s circumstantial evidence that Sandra had given birth, but he isn’t completely sure.”
“See!” she replied. “Isn’t it incredible? You knew my grandmother, and now I’m here. What else?”
“He said he’ll look into it. I didn’t give him your name, but he asked if I could give him your mother’s name.”
“Kianna,” said Cho. “Her maiden name was inherited from a foster family, Burns. She married my dad, and became a Cho.”
“I’ll talk to him again tomorrow,” said Matthias.
“You know, if you find out it’s some sort of mistaken identity or something, maybe you can just keep it to yourself,” said Tsenka.
“I am interested in you, in this,” he fumbled. “You’re connected to me by way of events from a lifetime ago. But if you don’t want to know for sure, I’m okay with that. For what it’s worth, I believe you are who you say.”
“So,” she said after a pause to soak in her victory. “What’s it like to be a nocturnal?”
Matthias grinned. “You know, some people consider it disrespectful to
ask about our condition.”
Cho cradled her chin in her hands. “Some people know better.”
“You talk to many vampires?”
“Not particularly,” she replied. “But I think it’s just a ruse.”
“What do you mean?” asked Matthias with a smirk.
Tsenka put her hands on the table and leaned forward. “I think,” she started, “that your kind just want to be left alone. They don’t want to share power, and they don’t want to give away weaknesses.”
“That’s a little cynical.”
“Then it’s probably true,” she said.
“Oh?” said Matthias, straightening in his seat. “Or perhaps you are jealous of the mystique.”
“Jealous isn’t the word,” she said with a subtle wink. “But I’m genuinely curious what life is like for you.”
Matthias folded his hands in front of him. “Alright, fine. It’s like living in a strange land. A land full of drama and song and dance and ritual. Mores and customs that you used to understand becoming increasingly unfamiliar. It’s a change that demands frustrations but grants none.”
“What do you mean?” asked Tsenka.
“Nothing feels strange about my condition, only the world around me,” he explained. “But it should be strange. It should be disturbing. Vampirism is a condition that affects the mind as well as the body.”
“You seem pretty normal to me.”
“The differences can be subtle.”
“Do you like drinking blood?” she asked.
“It’s enjoyable,” he said. “And satisfying, like sex or eating when hungry.”
“As satisfying as sex?” she teased.
“For me, moreso,” Matthias replied.
“You’re a joker,” accused Cho.
“Not at all.”
“I think maybe you have been doing it wrong.”
“I never do it wrong.” Matthias grinned.
“So you still do,” Tsenka guessed.
Matthias felt slight shame. He stared at the candles, then back at Cho. The more time she sat in front of him, the more perfect her features became. At first, he had decided to simply answer questions frankly, but the more he spoke, the more he noticed that he was doing more than that. His eyes traveled down her neck and to her breasts for a brief moment.