Cognata: A Vampire Romance

by Jedaiah Ramnarine

  That has to mean something...

  I slip into my casual fashion - some skinnies, sneakers, and a light fabric, black-colored hoodie. Then I see her. Now I was expecting some kinda' super elegant, baroque fashion.

  Maybe a little similar to the first time I saw her walk through the hotel doors, but, to my ignorant surprise, she has a taste in modern fashion as well.

  "Ready?" She asks me while I'm staring at her own dark velvet skinny jeans, carefully hugging those curves with a fitted black tank that has some logo saying "Not so dread" in white. She even has bracelets, earrings and the whole package along with the mascara and everything to match the 'perfect girlfriend' look. I'm wondering if she did the look on purpose. She probably did. Knowing Alexia so far, she is dangerously clever yet sincere.

  "Hello? Sam? Are you ready?"

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah... let's hit the cafe downstairs."

  "Sounds good." She wraps her arm in mine and for a second I get all light headed from her gorgeous scent. It's like roses, literally. If you were to see her down the street, you'd probably think she's one smoking hot broad but nothing more than that. One thing I've learned about this woman, is that she knows how to blend in and she knows when not to.

  We practically skip down the hallway and the stairs, jolly and happy as ever. All those fears about having awkward moments with the person you'd invested a long distance relationship with? Yeah, we didn't really have any of those. We just mesh, really. I'm happy as hell to be with her and I can tell the same applied for her. We didn't care who saw it, we didn't care what they thought and honestly, we didn't really give a shit about the world or its problems; at least, for now.

  Italy's a beautiful place. The cafe sat on a local block with small chairs around small tables, each sporting well-patterned, red tablecloth. There are one or two parked cars around and an older housing complex on the opposite side of the street. The morning feels fresh; the air is clean, slightly windy and a cool temperature to set the mood. Not too many clouds in the sky but the sun isn't being a dick. I don't see many people to be honest. Just one or two getting their morning joes and a couple sharing some laughs.

  Alexia and I sit closer to the edge of the place. I want to see the sights. Being in new places is invigorating to me. I thrive off seeing new stuff, other cultures and how they do it and how they don't. I'm sure she's seen it all already. She did arrange this whole trip after all. I look back at her. The two of us look so different but so alike. Her skin color is nowhere near mine but her fashion sense and even the way she carried herself was undeniably similar to mine. Like yin and yang, we were a pair. It's an exception, but I can't deny it - it feels so natural.

  "What's on your mind?" I ask her, smiling ear to freaking ear.

  She props her chin up with her hands playfully, darting her eyes left to right before connecting them with mine, "Eggs and bacon!"

  "Eggs and bacon?" I was expecting her to say something more refined.

  "Mhm! What will you be getting?"

  I look around for the menu, "Let's see... " I don't know what to get. Everything seems delicious.

  "An omelet doesn't sound too bad... "

  I close the menu, shifting it to the center of the table. Looking at my surroundings, I wonder how much people didn't know. There truly are marvelous things in our world and the saddest part is that people wouldn't believe it.

  They'd deny it to the bitter end and here I find myself sitting with an ancient vampiress, the likes of whom I hadn't quite figured out yet. Everything I knew of the so called vampires was myth and legend. Now I had access to the truth.

  "Hello, how are you today? Are you ready to order?" The waitress decides it's a good idea to interrupt my contemplation.

  "Hello! We are quite well, thank you." Alexia's returning her smile and friendliness, far better than I can. It's so ironic. "I would like to have the Eggs and Bacon dish, with an espresso stretto and water to go with that."

  The waitress starts scribbling her request while I sit here thinking about whether or not water is dangerous for her. I really have to let go of all the crap TV has pounded into my head. I'm painfully realizing that most of it; no, maybe all of it... is a lie. Alexia's walking proof of that.

  "And you, sir?" The waitress asks me.

  I nervously grab the menu to double check

  "Uh, I'll have an omelet and, um, a cup of coffee - cream and sugar."

  "Espresso, sir?"

  "No, just filter coffee."

  "Will that be all?" The waitress asks us both. We both nod to her request. She tells us it'll be a few minutes. My mind goes back to wandering again. I'm looking out into the street and I'm seeing a guy, maybe in his late 20s, typical scruffy-middle-class look trying to get by, on his way to work I'd say.

  "What do you think of him?" I ask Alexia, keeping my focus on the dude.

  "A busy one. Albeit clueless, he seems intent on his obligation. Man on a mission."

  Then I look at her.

  "Did you read his mind?"

  "A little bit, or maybe I simply guessed."

  "That'd be one hell of a guess, I'd say."

  "It would, wouldn't it? But by the way you make things sound, I'd say you're the one who's the real mind reader."

  Now I'm laughing.

  "Oh that's a good one." And my gaze goes back to the dude as he starts leaving our field of vision, I decide to speak aloud - "Look at him. The casual fragments of society. Bound and tied to do their labors, play their pieces and fill their strokes."

  Her foot touches mine lovingly.

  "That is quite deep for the hour."

  "I'm sorry, you've just been a real eye opener I suppose."

  She tilts her head inquisitively.

  "Do you remember what you told me about that ship you'd seen, years ago?"

  "I do... " I take a second to recall the memory properly but I know what she's referring to.

  "Hadn't that been an eye opener already?"

  "It was... " I was trying to figure out where she was going with this

  "So what difference do I make?"

  I decide to lean in a bit, gazing into her eyes fearlessly - the same way she stares into mine.

  "The difference is: those things, I'm not sure I was supposed to see. You? You were meant to open my mind up."

  "Oh, you... you are so talented with your wordplay sometimes." She starts blushing.

  "I can be." A soft chuckle escapes my lips.

  Can we stop for a second? You realize she's a vampire - right? What if this is all a charade or something? Who knows... it's better to just play along if it is. She's holding the cards...

  "You really should continue your writing Sam. Being rejected is not the end of the world."

  I sigh at the fact she brought this up.

  "I know, I know... I just... need some time."

  I'll admit, I'm not the best with public displays of affection, but with her? I don't care what anyone else thinks. I offer her my hand. I just want to feel her warmth. She sees it. She accepts it.

  "You motivate me." Making sure I'm staring into her eyes as I'm saying this. "You're the reason for my inspiration. One day I'll get back on the horse. I promise you."

  "Don't do it for me." Her smile is warm yet wise, "Do it for yourself."

  What's that supposed to mean?

  "Okay." That has to be the most anti-climactic response in the history of compelling responses. Please shoot me. Preferably in the head about a thousand times.

  "Tell me. Will you write of me?" She beams.

  "Of course... you know I've done incarnations of you before."

  "That you have, though I wonder if the next will be closer to what you know now."

  "I know no more now than I did before."

  "Oh?"

  "The only things that are different, are just the pigments of the same color. You shine to me now as you've always shone before. I will confess though, these bits have been interesting." "Mmmm... everything is interesting... " S
he pulls back to look in the direction of the humble, normal man who'd long been gone by now. "Even those 'casual fragments' of society. They have their limits and yet there is something to learn from those zombies."

  I'm wondering if 'zombies' were some undead force she'd yet to tell me about, then I get her meaning as it slips in.

  Alexia and I spend the rest of the day eating our meals happily, indulging in the food. She even seems to drink water with no problem. I start losing care about what she is. All that matters now, is what she means. Our next stop is the park, but not before we dip home to gather some additional outerwear. The weather is getting cold. While she's picking out a coat, I decide it'd be a good time to open the journal and take another look...

  Chapter Three

  New Shores

  Alexia's Journal,

  May 21th 1932

  I never expected this day to come like this. The veil of being under some sort of untouchable ignorance, bested my ability to read the signs. There must have been a flotilla of boats on the sea's horizon, with armed men on a crusade; carrying their pitchforks and flaming torches.

  They amassed orderly and quietly, but their ill intent filled the air. I watched from the parapets, as the sea of torches formed in front of our sanctuary.

  "Reveal yourself fiends! Your unholy dealings are over in this world!" One of the pathetic priests shouted at our doors.

  Aristide warned me of this day. He was adamant it would come. He was also prepared, even before he met me and made me his own - Aristide had already devised a plan to deal with this regrettable outcome. To say this whole thing was our fault could not be further from the truth. In fact, it was not at all. We'd spread some rumors, sure, and yet it would be nothing grand enough to incite and inspire men to take up their holy insignias and go raging into the unbothered night. This was the doing of Caelinus and Hyginos. The mischievous duo who I'd come to know as the orchestrators of our misfortune. The same two Aristide was most displeased to see.

  In their ravenous, careless quest to find Halona's spawn, they'd feasted on whoever's blood they felt the thirst for at whatever time they desired. They raped them, distorted their shapes and murdered them without any remorse. They did not care for the beast within. For as beautiful and handsome men as they were, they were monsters. Only a subtle mask that worked occasionally to hide their venom-coated fangs.

  The banging continued - thud! Thud! Thud!

  "Do you have everything?" Aristide asked me while I looked outside pitifully.

  The thought crossed my mind: I hadn't gotten a chance to say goodbye to my parents. I'd been watching over them for the past 2 years, like a phantom prowling in the shadows, I kept watch on them. I'd think about them, try to let them know through pushing my thoughts upon the deaf ear - that their girl, their Alexia, would be okay. I knew the day would come where I'd depart for distant shores and I always thought I'd have the chance to tell them 'goodbye' before I left.

  How stupid of me...

  "Alexia!" Aristide's deep octave snapped me out of my trance.

  "I'm ready." I reached for the only bag I was allowed to take.

  Part of me began growing a distinct distaste for the one they called Halona. Was I truly to believe all this trouble would be worth fighting over? What was the difference between the Cognati and the iconoclasm? They were searching for a new icon too. The thudding grew louder as Aristide led me to the back passage. They'd soon break in, but they wouldn't find us there. We could have fought for our little castle. Put those maniacs down like the rabid dogs they were, but it would be in our best interest that we did not.

  Attracting the attention of more Cognati would be our undoing. Mine in particular, since I did not belong to any sect. I was an unwanted child, only cared for by my maker. It hadn't been but a few weeks since the order's hounds went out searching for Halona's lineage; needless to say, they did not find it, precisely as Aristide predicted. Yet they were unsatisfied in their grief, so they turned my own city against me. Ironic how this chapter of my life should end. I would never have the chance to see my family again. Even if I attempted to return after this whole fuss was over, they might, by the time, be dead.

  We escaped by boat, whereupon we bought passage on a ship to a far off shore - far away from the perils of our kind. I thought I'd be the one full of tears and regret, yet I was the solemn one, struggling to keep it all under control. Aristide, despite his carefully placed, complex outer shell, was both visibly furious and deeply saddened. He'd grown fond of the place, grown fond of me and now we were off to unknown seas.

  I can't remember exactly how long we sailed over the waves. There were days that were clear, nights that would be rainy. One thing I admired about Aristide was that he was a gentleman. He'd put his coat over my shoulders when I grew tired and entertain the follies of my societal-based conversation. I was frustrated at the loss of our castle, yet I knew he'd be angrier so I did my best to keep the calm; keep the peace between us - though I must confess, it was no easy task for a young girl to pull off. The intricate social rituals, etiquette and pretense that was hammered into me during my upbringing certainly helped, even though I snapped sometimes and often we'd switch roles in comforting each other. In truth, all we had was each other.

  The Cognati Order would not let us slip away so easily. We made our way through different lands and other cultures. For nearly a century, we travelled all over the east, far from the reach of the Order. We saw the rise of Emperor Taizu in China first of what would later come to be known as the Song Dynasty and even played cards there for the first time. In Japan, we witnessed the advent of feudalism, as wealthy landowners stopped paying taxes and raised their own armies instead. We sampled, tasted and experienced everything a culture had to offer, marveling at the individual quirks of each. We never stayed long in one place, however. No matter where we went, they were there - searching. My life of promised adventure was not broken. It came true; only, not in the way I expected it. Day and night, I had to keep an eye over my shoulder. The tension started building...

  "Why!" Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn. It was a simple day, after weeks upon weeks of passive aggression; building, bubbling and exploding into a thousand shards. I tossed my wine glass at him. I didn't mean to hit him. I wanted the glass to shatter next to his head so he'd stop ignoring me. So that he'd stop walking away when I needed him there, and that tongue, as talented and clever as it might be, would at last tell me the truth.

  "Why did you do this to me! How long do you wish to keep me locked away?!" The blood from my drink seeped down my lips and in that moment, I felt a horrible twist in my stomach.

  An unforgiving self-loathing that ran deeper than any mortal hatred could dare test, "Stop walking away!" I was screaming to the top of my lungs. I'd become so sick of him walking away. Here we were, on another land, another continent - where we found another 'little castle' to stop and make our home and here we were, doing it all over it again and I needed to know 'for what?'

  Why did he want this from me?

  Why did he do this to me?

  Was this the life I was meant to live?

  Always on the run, always taking up new places to feed and when they found what I am, to just... run? And all this is his fault! We were being chased, all because of him!

  Is this truly the life that I had imagined? Would I really have been better off being some stupid little ignorant trophy bride? I didn't know what to do. I wasn't sure who I even was. I thought I knew it all so well and there I was, screaming, crying for an answer - knowing that he'd end up walking away. It was his method of dealing with things. It's what made him lose in the first place. At that point, I didn't care if I brought out his hidden rage: which I knew full well was carefully tucked and hidden away. I wanted him to hurt me. If it meant he'd speak his mind just that once, it was worth whatever scar I'd be deemed to carry. At least this once, let the gentleman disappear. Show me you care.

  "You really wish to know the truth, don't you?
" I couldn't believe it took this for him to acknowledge me.

  "Yes. I want you to stop walking away from me! Tell me what is going on Aristide. No games. No riddles. No suave."

  "Are you not happy here? You have clothes, shelter, wine and seed. What more could you possibly want?"

  "You are not telling me everything. I can sense it. I can feel it. What are you hiding from me? I do not care for the spoils of this world. I care for the truth."

  Aristide folded his arms behind his back, gesturing he had nothing to hide.

  "Naturally... so, what if I were to tell you that I found Halona's lineage?"

  I was still shaking in anger. I simply waited for him to continue.

  "I personally found it too much of a myth to be true, but alas, it did come true right in front of my eyes and it shook the foundations of what I thought I believed."

  "You're riddling again. I asked you not to toy with me."

  "I do not engage in these theatrics with you, Alexia... " He extended his arm, asking me to follow him. "Come. I will show you... everything."

  He took me to our bedroom quarters, where he unveiled a scroll he'd kept hidden for years. I was anxious over what would happen. Aristide seemed humbled, filled with regret and worry. Me? Had I risked my illusion of wonder, my promise of uniqueness for the bitter truth that was to come? I dreaded the thought of it. I almost wanted to tell him 'stop, let us return to the mirage', however, I found myself still as a rock - watching the world unfold around me.

  "Give me your hand." He instructed.

  I followed without question. He guided the tips of my fingers on what appeared to me as some sort of ancient writing, some hundreds if not, thousands of years old, maybe more...

  "What do you feel?" He asked.

  I admitted I felt nothing. Truly, it only felt like the rough, sandy edges of an olden scroll. I didn't have a clue on the style of the writing or the language it was in. Nothing special happened. "Focus... " His calm voice mellowed me into forgetting my worries.

  As I traced my fingers along the inscriptions of painted, old pictograms, the story no longer seemed like an abstract artwork. I began understanding; realizing what these depictions meant. The story Aristide once told me of Halona, blooming right in front of my eyes. This was no mere scroll. It was authentic piece of Cognati history, far older than a few thousand years. It was much older. Memories of things I hadn't known, places I'd never seen, but tragically, all in fragments and tatters clouding my mind.