Vampire Dreams_Int.indd

by ghislainviau

  Alexander had been hanging around Boston for a few weeks since the big cities never seemed to have any shortage of crime.

  On one particular night he cruised around Boston’s Back Bay until he sensed something, and then drove up to the front of an Irish Pub. He opened the door and left the keys in his Italian sports car, then stuffed a twenty into the valet’s hand.

  “Bring it back without a scratch and I’ll give you fi fty.”

  The young valet looked pleased and nodded. He knew his real employers were big tippers, and he respected them and gave them what they wanted.

  It was a cold autumn night and chimneys were pouring the smell of burning wood into the crisp air. The six foot two vampire stood on the sidewalk in his black jeans, heavy shoes and wool coat, his black hair whipping in the wind.

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  He pulled up the collar of his pea coat and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He wasn’t cold; he just wanted to pass for a human. And right then, he knew the humans outside were cold, so he played the part.

  Something was being planned and his detective radar pointed to this place. He went inside, sat down at the bar and ordered a whiskey straight up. After a quick glance around the room, Alexander fi xed his attention on a booth in the distance where two men sat talking. The bartender served his drink and the undercover vampire slid a folded bill forward, grabbed his glass and went to the pool table near the men in question.

  Alexander carefully inspected the cue sticks on the wall and picked up the straightest-looking one. After tossing it with a spin a few times to check for balance, he fl ipped open his silver lighter, lit a cigarette and walked to the pool table.

  The vampire had zeroed in on a conversation at the booth

  — a conversation he’d been monitoring since spotting them from the bar. Exceptional hearing had its benefi ts in his business. But nothing interesting had come up yet. Fortunately, he was patient. A good detective had to be.

  A tall, slender man with sandy hair walked over to join Alexander for a game at the pool table. Now there was a good reason to hang nearby without looking suspicious. “I’ll rack

  ’em,” Alexander said quietly. “Eight ball? Twenty bucks?” His opponent nodded, and a game ensued.

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  Ten minutes later, the conversation at the booth was beginning to get interesting.

  “All right. I have a job for ya. Can I trust ya?”

  “Yeah, what do ya think? ’Course ya can trust me!”

  “He needs someone to drive him to Winchestah tonight.”

  “Easy. Ten or so miles, right?”

  “Right. Pick him up in the Nawth End in thirty minutes.

  He’ll pay ya one-fi fty to drive him theah and then drive him back. Quick hit, you only have to wait for him in the cah.

  Can you handle it, Jim?”

  “Piece a cake.”

  “And you nevah saw him, got it?”

  “What am I, stupid? ’Course I nevah saw him.”

  “Good. Now listen, I’m doing you a favah. Don’t fohget it.

  Take off then. He don’t like it when people are late.”

  The pool game had just ended. Alexander had been playing so long he could win in his sleep. He let the other guy win.

  After handing him a twenty, he left through the front door, where Jim was waiting for his car.

  Alexander spotted his young valet, leaned close and said quietly, “Get my car here in two minutes and I’ll give you a hundred.” One minute and fi fty seconds later, Alexander’s car had pulled up to the curb and Jim’s hadn’t arrived 16

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  yet. The vampire thanked and paid his valet, drove a half block and pulled over. He watched through his rear view mirror as Jim got into a black sedan and then drove past Alexander’s sports car. Alexander pulled out and followed.

  Jim drove to the Old North Church and stopped across the street at the Prado, where a man, trying very hard to not look suspicious, sauntered up and got into the passenger side of Jim’s car. The car drove off and Alexander followed.

  Twenty minutes later, they were in a rural area somewhere near Winchester.

  A snag arose for Alexander when at a railroad crossing the lights began to blink and the rails lowered. The black sedan sped up and continued along; the rails barely missed the back of the car. Alexander was left with no way through. It was a narrow crossing with rails lowered from the left and right, overlapping in the middle. He considered backing up and busting through, but decided he wouldn’t chance it. Debris left on the track could derail the train. So he waited.

  Eighteen freight cars moved by slowly — he counted. It was painful, but unavoidable. When they’d fi nally passed and the rails lifted he fl ew down the road, his sharp senses alert and watchful. About a mile along, he sensed something and took a sharp left. And sure enough, the black sedan was halfway down the side street with Jim still in it. Alexander pulled over and slowly got out so as not to arouse Jim’s suspicions. He sauntered down the street and when he was 17

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  close enough, he blanketed Jim’s mind with a grey cloud, putting him in a torpid state. Some vampires were skilled at the little trick and Alexander found it useful, if temporary.

  The effect suited the vampire’s immediate needs. “Get out of here!” Alexander ordered.

  The crack of a gun was heard and it came from inside the house, followed by a woman’s scream. They’d both heard it.

  Jim started his engine and fl ew off while Alexander rushed into the house. He arrived as a woman was being shot. There was already one man lying dead on the living room fl oor.

  Alexander heard a soft cry and his head whipped toward the sound that was coming from a young girl in the corner.

  The gunman, still unaware of the vampire, raised his weapon and aimed it directly at her chest. The vampire dove at the girl, knocking her out of the way, and in so doing caught the bullet that was intended for her. It didn’t faze him. The bulletproof vest came in handy at a time like that — not that a bullet would kill him, but it might temporarily slow him down.

  The vampire turned and looked menacingly at the gunman as he walked toward him. The gunman shot three more rounds from his revolver before dropping his gun in shock and defeat.

  The vampire’s fi st met the gunman’s face, and the gunman fl ew back, hit the wall, then fell to the fl oor like a rag doll.

  With one hand and little effort, Alexander lifted and carried the man to his car and threw him in the front seat.

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  Alexander’s car made its way down the winding road, with the two-hundred-pound unconscious heap in the passenger side, to a nearby city and stopped at a quiet area along a river.

  Alexander got out, opened the passenger door, removed the heap and tossed him twenty feet away onto the riverbank. The gunman never regained consciousness. He never felt the sharp fangs sink into his neck. A minute later he was dead.

  The vampire left enough blood in the corpse to spill a siz-able puddle. Then he took out his knife and carefully slit the throat where he’d bitten him, so it would look like the man had died differently than he had.

  The next day he’d leave an anonymous tip at the Winchester Police Department saying that he had the description and license plate number of the getaway car.

  Alexander returned to his hotel room. He blocked the windows with full-cover black shades, put the “do not disturb”

  sign on the doorknob, and went through his regular routine of securing the door and windows so no one could enter.

  And there he slept.

  At sundown the next day, he got up and began methodically preparing for his night. But he was feeling out of sorts. It was diffi cult to concentrate on the regular routine. Problem was, Alexander couldn’t stop thinking of that young girl and he was feeling badly that he hadn’t arrived in time to save her parents. His r
egret grew deeper until he was suffering a dark anguish over the girl whose life would never be the same.

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  Once again he cursed the criminal elements of a God-forsaken world. Then he cursed himself for getting emotional over something he couldn’t have prevented. Alexander decided he was being a fool for he knew better than anyone that the worst thing to do in his business was to get involved — to actually care for an individual.

  The broader view of right and wrong and a general liking of humanity were the only affections he’d allowed himself.

  Those were safe thoughts. But actually worrying about the welfare of just one individual? It was a foolish luxury he’d never allow himself! For he knew that if he cared too much about any one person, well, that was just stupid and dan-gerous, because that was the only time he could be hurt. And damned if he would ever allow himself to get hurt. He’d seen enough of it — enough to know it should never happen to him. He forced himself to stop thinking about the girl and pressed on.

  The month was November, after the time change, so sundown came early. It was time to head out, fi nd a bar and start the familiar cycle of trying to balance wrong with some right, once again.

  He found a lead in the fi rst bar he entered — a plan to break into the Gardner Museum and steal some priceless paintings.

  But a meeting with the key players wouldn’t be taking place until the following night.

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  After driving around for hours in what seemed to be circles, he had what he referred to as “a moment of weakness” and headed to Winchester. He promised himself he’d just look in and satisfy himself that the girl was okay. It was all he really needed to know. No more, no less.

  He was acutely aware that he was breaking a personal code to never become involved. He’d never before felt tempted to break it — not in all his years. Why he felt compelled to check on someone this time, he didn’t really know.

  He cursed himself for being so weak but then he justifi ed his intended action by thinking no harm could come from extending his responsibility, just a little bit further, just this one time. After all, he reasoned, he should have arrived sooner the night before. If he had, the girl’s parents would be alive and all would be well.

  It was that damn train!

  No, it wasn’t the train at all. It was his responsibility! He should have prevented the double murder.

  It was midnight when he pulled up to the Winchester house.

  The night was especially dark with a new moon blacked out somewhere in the sky. He scaled the house to the second story, and sure enough, a window was unlocked. They usually were.

  Once inside he could smell the girl in the next room. She smelled good. There was also a hint of salty tears. He wasn’t 21

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  accustomed to being close to humans unless he was working.

  And work always ended in a kill. Fortunately, that night, he wasn’t thirsty.

  Alexander entered the girl’s room, settled on his back next to her with his hands clasped behind his head and his ankles crossed. He blanketed the girl with a grey cloud and entered her dream.

  He didn’t want to startle her so he spoke softly, “Forgive me for intruding on your night, but I had to know if you’re okay. Did he hurt you?” Alexander asked. He noted that she wasn’t frightened. Dreams can be like that.

  She rolled over to face him. “Not physically. Is that what you mean?” Her voice had a very sweet sound.

  “Yes,” he answered. That was all he really needed to know.

  It was why he’d come and he knew he should leave. But he didn’t. Instead he looked at her a moment and took some solace in the fact that she looked serene.

  He studied her face and was taken by surprise when she asked, “What’s your name?”

  The girl was more responsive than he’d expected. Most people become numb and only answer his questions. But she was different. There was even something tranquil about her.

  “My name is Alexander.” His remorse came fl ooding back.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t arrive sooner last night. I heard the gun and rushed in but by then, there was a second shot. I pushed 22

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  you out of the way before he fi red off a third. I don’t want you to worry about him. He’ll never bother you again.”

  “What did you do to him?”

  “He’s dead.”

  “How did you kill him?”

  “I’m a vampire.”

  “I see.”

  “What’s your name?” he asked her.

  “Zoe.”

  “Do you know what your name means, Zoe?”

  That was the fi rst time he’d seen her smile. It was a good smile. “No,” she answered.

  “It means ‘life’. You should rest. I can stay beside you until just before dawn.”

  “Okay. But tell me, what does your name mean?”

  “It means ‘protector’. I can smell your tears. You were crying earlier?”

  “Yes.”

  “You should sleep now.”

  “I’d much rather talk to you.”

  “I can tell you’re tired. If you sleep now, I’ll return another time to talk to you if you’d like.”

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  “Please do. I’m so glad you came.”

  “Me, too. Sleep well little Zoe.”

  And return Alexander did, two or three times a week, for the next six years! He knew he’d live to regret it one day. But he couldn’t stop checking on her. She was just too vulnerable

  — or so he’d told himself.

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  Eleven years later . . .

  Zoe continued reading the fi rst journal.

  † † †

  I dreamed of Alexander again last night. He came back to me while I slept, just like he said he would.

  “Zoe,” he whispered.

  I rol ed over to face him. “Alexander, you’re back.”

  “You were crying again?”

  “Yes. But I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to cry while you’re here.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with it. I don’t mind if you cry.

  Were you thinking of your parents?”

  As soon as he said it was okay to cry, I didn’t feel the need to cry anymore. I just wanted to tel him everything that was on my mind. So I told him how the awkwardly sympathetic people just made me feel more sad and alone. How the funerals 25

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  were being planned and how much I dreaded them. How very painful it was knowing that I’d never see my parents again.

  In my dream, I told him everything and I fell asleep feeling better.

  † † †

  Zoe put down the journal and recalled her parents’ funeral.

  It had been uncommonly large, sensationally newsworthy and especially heart-wrenching since her father had been a well respected police offi cer for many years. Yet for all the attention and pity leveled at her (the newly-turned-eighteen-year-old, who’d witnessed her parents’ deaths) she’d survived it with her sanity still intact. And she owed it to a vampire featured in her dreams. She picked up her journal and carefully read her notes of the next time Alexander had visited her in her dreams.

  † † †

  “Alexander, you were gone for three nights. Where were you?”

  “I had to work, Zoe. It takes me a few nights before I can come back again. Do you want me to leave?”

  “No. Were you off kil ing people?”

  He didn’t answer me right away so I waited until he was ready. “One person, yes,” he said quietly.

  “Are you here to kil me, Alexander?”

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  “No, of course not!”

  “Why not? Isn’t that what vampires do?”

  He smiled, exposing his two fang
s, the eyeteeth, that were longer and sharper than normal. “Because, pretty girl, . . . you are a good human. I only kil those who harm humans.”

  “So you selectively kil ?”

  “Right.”

  “I’m glad you were there that night.”

  “Me, too. I’m sorry I wasn’t there in time to save your parents.”

  “Me, too. Though I wouldn’t have ever seen you again if you had.”

  “I suppose not.”

  There was no more to say after that.

  † † †

  “I’m here now, Zoe. I came as soon as I could.”

  “Thank you for coming. It means a lot that you’re here tonight.”

  “I wish I could have gone with you. I didn’t sleep very much today. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “That’s okay. You don’t have to. But can I ask you one thing?”

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  After a deep sigh I said, “Sure.”

  “What was the hardest part?”

  I sifted through the ordeal before answering. “It was the honor guard.”

  “Of course.” He stared at the ceiling silently for a minute.

  Then he said, “I’ll understand if you want me to leave.”

  “Please don’t leave me now, Alexander. Knowing I’d dream of you tonight was the only thing I’ve had to look forward to all day.”

  “I’l stay here with you, then.” He put his cool arms around me and we stayed like that all night.

  † † †

  Alexander was back last night and I discovered he has an annoying side.

  “No tears tonight?”

  I thought back to just before I’d fal en asleep. “No, I guess not.”

  “Darn! That’s too bad! What’d you forget to cry or something?”

  “Whatever are you talking about?”

  “It’s a little disappointing, that’s all. I was looking forward to the smell of your tears. I rather like the scent.”

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  I looked at him in disbelief and he actually had a smirk on his face. “Is that supposed to be funny?” I threw a pil ow at him. “Since when do vampires have a sense of humor?”