Midnight Thirsts: Erotic Tales of the Vampire

by Greg Herren

  “Roland, you have been chosen for me, and I accepted. You do know what I am, do you not?”

  The fact was, I didn’t know, and at that moment I didn’t care if he was an angel or a demon, devil or saint, as long as he wanted me. I shook my head. The creature laughed and extended his arm toward me. He perused my body with his eyes as his hand came to rest on my naked forearm. I gasped as a pulse jolted through my body, radiating out from the point of contact.

  “Do you not have the slightest guess as to my name? You’ve heard it. Think,” he commanded.

  “You are a vampire,” I said weakly, feeling as if I’d already been drained of blood.

  The creature laughed quietly, as one laughs at a child’s innocent realization that he doesn’t disappear when he covers his eyes.

  “Yes, a vampire. My name? You are wearing the necklace that I created from my own blood.”

  I looked at him questioningly as the answers flooded my brain.

  “My name is Julius Favreau, toy maker, jewelry maker, seducer of queens and princes, killer of men, women, and children. I am a dream and a nightmare. A child of Lilith. You see, I am one of the first vampires.

  “I have been here since the dawn of mankind as we know it. When Lilith was cast into the valley of darkness on the shores of the Dead Sea and copulated with demons, she bore the rotten fruit of evil. The creatures who are her children are now of myth and legend. I do not know who named my race ‘vampire,’ but I know that I am not human and I am not a demon. I am somewhere in between, existing in two planes of reality. My father was an incubus, a demon with the power to seduce women into despair, the power to forge pleasure out of pain and death. Do you understand?”

  I nodded my head in awe. I gazed upon Favreau as if he were an ancient relic, an icon of some dark church.

  “When I drink the blood of humans, I take part of them with me. When I feed, I possess them to satisfy my demonic genes. The blood is nourishment for my strange body. I am immortal, but forever conflicted by my two halves. The human will is weak, overpowered by the demonic force of rage and need to commit to evil. I am not so conflicted, though, as a certain vampire we both know. Rocerres is convinced that he can find an angel to change him back or possibly transform him into a different being. He is sure that he can be unmade. I tell you, I have traveled the world over millennia and have not seen angels in this reality.”

  “Favreau the beautiful nightmare,” I wanted to call him. He moved ever closer to me, by small degrees. His hands reached for me and removed my clothing slowly, deliciously. He placed his full hands on me; I convulsed gently, feeling his own being intermingling with mine. He closed his eyes. His mouth fell open slightly, and his long fangs were exposed and glittered like pearls. They dripped with a clear liquid. He spoke softly into my ear as he pulled me close to him.

  “When I touch you, I can feel every vein and artery pulsing with your energy. I crave you more than I have craved anything. Your spirit awaits me, but I have better plans for you, my sweet one. I want you to join me, to see the world as I see it. I want you as a companion, as Rocerres could never be. Do you accept? Tell me that you accept, and I will come to you full-bodied and make it so.”

  My mouth opened to speak. I wanted so badly to answer affirmatively. I wrapped my arms around his body. A golden light burst into my closed eyes.

  I fell forward. As I hit the floor, I heard a faraway scream of frustration. I shook my head as I pushed myself from the hardwood floor. Early morning light flooded the bedroom of my house. I was back in my own time. The necklace was no longer around my neck but lay on the bed. If I’d removed it, I had no memory of doing so. I was shaking from head to toe. As I tried to adjust to my return from wherever I had—or had not—been just a moment before, I realized that the telephone was ringing.

  I bolted to my office.

  “Hello?”

  “Roland, it’s Kyle. You sound out of breath. I hope I didn’t…disturb you,” he said, insinuating that I had someone with me. I laughed internally because he wasn’t far from the truth.

  “No, I was just rearranging my office,” I lied lamely. “Are you all settled in?”

  “Yes.”

  “Care to elaborate? Is Westport all that you thought it would be and more?”

  “It’s barely been a week,” he sighed as he spoke, “but so far it’s not that different from Irvington.”

  “It’ll get better as you settle into the town and get to know people.”

  “I don’t know, Roland. Maybe it’s just me. You know the old saying, ‘Wherever you go, there you’ll be.’ I think I finally get what it means.”

  “Give yourself some time.”

  “Hey,” he said with the impish tone that I knew well, “I miss our trysts already.”

  “Me, too,” I lied.

  “Nah, you were ready to move on to something more fulfilling. You were always much deeper about stuff than me.”

  Kyle had a way with words. Not a great way, but his simplicity was endearing. Endearment was not enough for me, though. I had expected this call. Kyle was a stranger in a strange town, and I’d known he probably would reach out to me, his only friend, for the first few months. After he was acquainted with the ins and outs of Westport, Roland Weir would completely disappear from his brain.

  “You’re experiencing separation anxiety, aren’t you?” I teased.

  “What?” he asked, but received no response. “Never mind. You’re probably busy, so I’ll let you go. I’ll give you a call in a few days. Maybe you can make the drive out here?”

  “Sure, Kyle. Give me a call. I’ll see if I can get over there sometime.”

  Almost immediately after hanging up the phone I was struck with a premature nostalgia. My memories of Kyle were pleasantly tinted, as if they had occurred in a much more distant past. I thought of him affectionately. Sadly, ours was the most significant relationship I’d ever had with another human.

  Maybe if we were vampire companions, it would be different, I mused.

  I brushed the thought away and turned from the desk.

  Chapter Five

  I had finished all my work for Mr. Tarry and called him to let him know. He came to pick up the ledger and gave me a check before he left. I could finally have a few moments to myself as the sun began its descent over the hills on the western bank of the Hudson River.

  I made coffee, adding a hint of whiskey to it before making my way out of the back door of the house, walking between the cypress trees and following a path of stone steps overgrown with grass. I made a mental note to call my neighbor, whose son cut my lawn for a small fee. My uncle, a fantastic landscaper, had built a small circular stone patio on the river’s edge. Two wrought-iron chairs faced the water. A treated wood table sat between the chairs. I set my coffee cup on the table and lowered myself onto the iron chair. It was more comfortable than it looked.

  I wanted to be as far away from the necklace as possible. I had seemed to disappear for an entire day when I’d worn the necklace the day before. I shuddered, thinking of my meeting with Favreau. I didn’t fully know what to make of it. I felt the way I imagined a person who’d been possessed might feel after the invading entity had left his body—I felt violated and more guarded now. Yet there still lingered a curiosity about the life of vampires, particularly the life of Favreau and Rocerres. As mental images of the day before flipped through my mind, I found myself somewhat aroused.

  I ran my hands over my chest, where the gem had rested, feeling the warmth of my skin. Overall, I felt drained, as if I had orgasmed nonstop for an entire day. I wondered if I would ever meet Favreau in my own reality, or if the meetings would be confined to some alternate time-space continuum that he was able to create. I was in awe of the powers he must possess. I thought of myself touching him, feeling his inhuman skin, tasting it. I ran my tongue over my teeth and fleetingly wished that I had those great and terrible fangs. I fantasized briefly about Kyle. I didn’t think about our sexual interludes, in
stead exploring something much darker. I put myself in the preternatural shoes of a vampire. Made my mental self into a vampire. I pictured Kyle’s head snapped back, his eyes full of fear and longing; the same emotions I had when Favreau or Rocerres was near me. I would lower my fangs to Kyle’s neck and tease him with the possibility of death, the overwhelming sensation of being drained.

  But what would it be like to be refilled by the strange blood of the vampire? I wondered.

  I sat back and closed my eyes for what I thought was only a minute. My eyes shot open, and I jumped from my seat when I felt someone’s hand rest on my shoulder. I then realized the sun had gone down. I turned on the stone to face whoever had touched me. I raised my fists—as if I had ever been in a fight. When I saw that it was Rocerres who stood behind the chair, I lowered my hands but kept my distance. He spoke first.

  “I understand you’ve met Favreau,” he said gravely.

  “I suppose I have, in a way,” I replied.

  “Then I’ll wager he told you his opinion of me.”

  “Somewhat.”

  “I want to tell you my side of the story. Rather, show you.”

  Rocerres leaped in front of me and put one hand on either side of my neck. He tilted my face upward until I was looking directly into his eyes. I was disarmed. His face moved closer to mine until his lips were nearly touching mine. He bit his lip. A drop of blood bubbled to the surface. He pushed the blood onto his tongue. I didn’t know what was going to happen, and I was anxious. My breathing quickened, and I felt tears rising in my eyes, which were fixed tightly on Rocerres’. I felt something cold and wet against my lips, then tasted a coppery liquid.

  He had forced his tongue into my mouth. I resisted the urge to bite it. As the taste of Rocerres’ blood began to fade, he pulled back from me a few inches. I felt my muscles stiffen for a moment, though not with tension; it felt as if they had died then been revived. I had to shake my head because I suddenly had a memory that was not my own. Taking Rocerres’ blood inside me had caused a memory of his to be transferred, or copied, to my own mind.

  The few people still on the streets of Paris stepped away from Rocerres as he made his way back to Favreau. He had every appearance of a madman. His eyes were wide, and he shook his head every few feet as if his ears were clogged with water. His internal battle was great, but he was losing. Favreau’s telepathic hold over him was akin to twelve horses pulling an empty cart.

  When Rocerres finally reached Favreau’s domain, he stopped outside the gate and steadied himself against the stone column at the entrance. He looked toward the window he had burst through earlier. A dark figure stood there, arms outstretched and long hair flowing outward. Rocerres clung to the column, resisting with his last bit of strength. He dug into the stone so hard that he bled from beneath his fingernails. He gasped, then cried out.

  Favreau seemed to materialize in front of him. He held out his hand to Rocerres. Rocerres turned his face away; tears streamed down his cheeks. He felt his arm reach out. Favreau had full dominion over him. He felt the cool touch of unnatural skin and the strength of a hundred men in the hand that touched his own. Favreau effortlessly pulled him from the column.

  Once they had entered Favreau’s lair, Rocerres was led up a marble staircase to a lavishly furnished bedroom. The bedposts reached almost to the high ceiling. Favreau looked at Rocerres with a tender yet hungry expression. He led Rocerres to the bed and gently laid him down. He removed his silk cravat, then grabbed his wrists. He sucked the blood from Rocerres’ fingertips, then tenderly bit down. Rocerres let out a cry as Favreau’s fang pierced the surface of his index finger. Favreau groaned, then pulled away.

  “You are delicious, as sweet as I imagined,” he said, grinning lewdly.

  Rocerres yanked his wrists away from Favreau’s grasp and kicked his legs out, attempting to scamper off the bed. Favreau leaped with the prowess of a tiger and gripped Rocerres by the shoulders. He let his hands trail down Rocerres’ stiff arms. Rocerres breathed hard and stared defiantly as Favreau bound his wrists together with the cravat, then tied them securely to the headboard.

  “There will be no impish escapes this time, my boy.”

  Rocerres turned his head away in a final attempt to break the mental bind Favreau had over him. It seemed useless now that his hands were tightly locked together. He felt a fingernail trace his collarbone, then scrape his sternum. The fingernail traced the underside of his pectoral muscle, then moved up, just below his left nipple. He winced as he felt the skin break at the bottom of the areola. Favreau bent down and flicked his tongue over the nipple, which sent a shock through Rocerres. He gasped with unwilling pleasure. Then Favreau ravenously sucked from the puncture. Rocerres turned his face to watch with morbid fascination. Favreau’s dark hair was splayed out, and his head moved back and forth as he suckled. Rocerres’ face grew pale, but Favreau’s face, when he looked up, had become flushed. His eyes were electric as he snarled.

  Rocerres bucked against Favreau and once again tried to kick him from the bed, to no avail. Favreau laughed at his efforts. He leaned down close to Rocerres, who looked up, terrified. Favreau bit down on his tongue, then forced Rocerres’ mouth open with it. Hot vampiric blood flowed into Rocerres’ mouth; he let out a muffled cry as his muscles tensed in reaction to the enchanted blood. As painful as it was at first, it was all too pleasant as it began to work its magic on Rocerres’ mortal body. For a moment, the world was more vivid than it had ever been. Rocerres heard voices of people miles away; the colors were bright, and the sensation of Favreau’s weight on top of him filled him with glee. Their skin seemed to grow together. Rocerres felt as if he were penetrated; he grew rock solid instantly. He wanted Favreau, wanted the darkness, more of the ferocious blood. He opened his mouth and instinctively bit down on Favreau’s neck, but his blunt mortal teeth could not break the skin. He convulsed beneath Favreau, frustrated and excited. He clenched his legs together as a shiver welled up at his feet and worked orgasmically up his entire body.

  Favreau pulled away, delighted by Rocerres’ reaction. He watched asRocerres stretched out his body, enjoying the new sensations. While his victim was charmed, he took the opportunity to taste Rocerres once again. He bit down on Rocerres’ bound wrist. Rocerres gasped and pleaded.

  “Another kiss.”

  Favreau pulled away and gave Rocerres a frightening look, then grabbed him fiercely by the shoulder. Favreau snapped his head back. He leaped on top of him and sank his fangs into the pulsing jugular vein. Rocerres could feel his life slipping away by degrees, and he welcomed it. The lights became hazy, and all thoughts abandoned him. In his last few minutes of fuzziness, he saw two figures burst into the bedroom and rush toward the bed. He heard a single thought of Favreau’s in his own mind: It seems that we will have to make a new life in the New World.

  “So you see now,” Rocerres said to me when I snapped out of the trance, “it was not by choice that I became what I am.”

  “But you came to America with Favreau anyway?”

  “He kept me weak. We went to England from France. I cannot recall how long we remained there before we set sail for America. It could have been a century, but it wasn’t until we reached what is now New York City that Favreau fully filled me with vampiric blood.

  “I am not as Favreau is, though. I’ve never taken life or reproduced. I am determined to find a way to escape this life and become human.”

  “How do you resist?” I asked.

  “It isn’t easy. There are times when the lust for blood nearly blinds me. Though Favreau warns me that I will wither away if I do not feed, I’m willing to take that risk if it means remaining pure in some sense.”

  “And the necklace. How did it get here from Europe?”

  “I can’t answer that, but I have my suspicions that Queen Margot did not die as history books would have you believe.”

  I shook my head in disbelieving comprehension. Rocerres went on to warn me about the necklace and about Favrea
u. He explained its many uses: to lure victims to Favreau’s manor, to drive those who possessed it to insanity, to serve as a link to a ghostly plane where vampires and other dark creatures existed, and to be a telepathic link to Favreau. He pleaded with me to give up the necklace, to sell it in hopes that it would disappear forever into the collection of someone finally able to resist its call.

  I wasn’t sure why the temptation was so great for me to become like Favreau. Perhaps I longed to be a permanent part of mythology, to watch time pass into history. It was exciting despite the darker side: taking human life.

  Rocerres stroked my hair affectionately before he left. His scent lingered on my skin for hours after he departed. I avoided entering my house, content to watch the barges move lazily down the river toward the sea. It wasn’t until the last train of the night pulled out of the Irvington station that I went indoors.

  Chapter Six

  Iundressed and slipped into bed as an internal war raged inside my head. The cautionary words of Rocerres battled with the seductive memory of Favreau. I looked at the lamp on the nightstand beside the bed, where I’d hung the necklace from the switch. The gem caught the light and hypnotically threw sparks in my eyes. You’re not helping matters, I said to the necklace in my thoughts.

  I reached to turn off the light. My fingers grazed the cool links of the silver chain. The glittering gem and the powers it held as a link to Favreau were like a drug. Maybe my addiction was to Favreau.

  Instead of turning off the light, I removed the chain from its perch and held it in front of my face, completely surrendering to my need. The battle in my head was drawing to a close. I closed my eyes and envisioned the reactions of both Rocerres and Favreau. I imagined Rocerres turning away in disappointment, abandoning me and feeling as if he had failed to save me from a fate that he feared.