Strange.
Van gave the man an untrusting stare.
“I am only here to help you, Van,” the man confessed candidly.
Van furrowed his brows in befuddlement. “How did you know my name?” He knew had never seen the likes of this person before. It was not a face one could forget. Living on the streets, Van could observe freely the people from all walks of life and this man was not one of them.
The man laughed. It almost sounded contriving in its own way. In Van’s opinion any way.
“I know more about you, Van, than even you know about yourself,” the man admitted confidently.
Van continued to gape in bewilderment, so the stranger seized the opportunity to humor him just a little.
“I knew you were orphaned at the tender and very impressionable age of thirteen. Oh, a few good souls welcomed you into their homes. But it was few and far between. No one really helped you for you had no other family that you knew of. So you were forced to beg on these streets up until now. And I must respectfully admit,” he concluded despondently, “I do not see how you have made it to your twenty-fifth year.”
Van looked at the stranger, first in wonder. Then when all the words sunk in that emotion turned quickly to outrage.
“What do you know about ‘begging on these streets’? You and your fancy clothes and flawless manners.” Van seethed and spat near the stranger’s shiny black shoes. He pointed to the man’s hands. “You don’t look like you had to do a hard day’s work ever in you perfect little life. You will never know the hell I have been through.” Van stormed with anger. “It is my business. Now go and just leave. Me. Alone!” Van shouted audaciously in the man’s face and attempted to wave him away.
The man grasped his arm with that beast-like strength. Van was certain the stranger would crush his arm to dust if squeezed just a bit harder. Van looked up into the stranger’s eyes. They were glowing fiercely with fire.
The stranger’s voice became a low, deep growl. His full, red lips snarled ferociously. His teeth, straight and white, gleamed in the moonlight.
“Leave you alone?!” the stranger hissed as he grabbed Van’s collar and pulled his face dangerously close to his. “Do you know what I am capable of, you young knave?” He sneered. “Dare you be so imprudent in your ways?” Van could only shake his head. The man released Van’s collar and Van put his hand to his throat with lightening speed. “Do you want to die on these streets?” the stranger asked, making a sweeping gesture towards the city. He looked Van in the eyes pointedly and gave a knowing smirk. “A nobody like you?” He decided to let Van’s arm drop from his grip roughly. Van massaged the aching flesh.
The man smiled, showing just a hint of teeth, taking care not to let him see the razor sharp canines. It would do Van no good to scare him to death. He was not ready to know just yet.
Van found that he could not smile back. This stranger could have very well snapped him in two. He was still feeling the shock of it all. He looked at the dirt below him. He couldn’t meet this man eye to eye. He could feel the shame well up in his chest. Burning like a fire in the pit of his stomach.
“I would never kill any one in cold blood, Van,” the man informed sincerely.
Van’s head shot up in consternation. He didn’t vocalize his thoughts. Did he? What was going on?
Crazy, Van decided. I must be going stark raving mad. A dream. Yes, it had to be a dream.
“I would think that you would presume it more to be your nightmare.” The stranger’s comment cut into Van’s disheveled thoughts.
Van gazed at him derisively. “So if I pinch myself, I’ll wake up and you will be nothing but a distant, albeit peculiar, dream. I need nothing more than to close my eyes for a moment and when I open them, you will be gone,” Van elucidated at if it were the perfect solution to his problems.
The man smiled at Van’s somewhat childish way of looking at this rather serious situation. He would amuse him, he decided, just this once. He had time for nothing more. “Then by all means, go ahead,” he stated flippantly, crossing his arms.
Van squeezed his eyes shut so tightly he saw brilliantly colored stars under his lids. When he opened them, the stranger was not there. Van let out a huge sigh of relief.
I knew it was only a dream, Van thought smugly.
Van turned around and the breath he just let out was immediately sucked up in a loud gasp.
“I am afraid not, mon ami,” the man laughed slightly. “I can hear your thoughts just as clearly as if you had spoken them aloud,” he explained. “We are connected regardless of how you feel about it or how you interpret the situation before you.
“I sensed you pain and desperation. So I came to you. To help you through this journey for you cannot walk it alone,” he spoke benevolently.
Van looked at him as though he were talking in riddles. It seemed this stranger was more confused and messed up than he was. He decided not to ask the man to elaborate on the details. He was afraid he would just dig himself into an even deeper hole. One he would not get out of. He concentrated on the beginning of what the man had said. Maybe he could deal with that a little bit better.
“If you wanted to help me, as you so claimed, why did you not come for me when I was orphaned at thirteen?” Van demanded to know.
“You were not ready. You were too young and not at a consenting age,” he answered simply.
Van shook his head. “Let me get this straight,” Van started. “You came to help me now even though I am quite old enough to make my own decisions? But, you refused to help me-or so you say-when I was a young child in desperate need of care? In need of food and a roof over my head? And now that I am of a ‘consenting age’, you want to help?” Van put his fingers to his temples, trying to ward off an oncoming headache. “I cannot believe I am even having this discussion.” He looked up at the stranger in suspicion. “Who are you? What are you?”
The stranger said calmly, “I can tell you that I am called Saldivar.” He bowed at his introduction then snapped up suddenly. “But I will tell you no more until we are in the privacy and safety of my chateau.” He reached out his hand and gestured for Van to follow. “Come. I will get you food and drink. You can even have a bath and a fresh change of clothes.”
Van took a tentative step forward then stopped. “Why are you helping me?” he asked once more, doubt clouding his gray eyes.
“I have told you. I cannot and will not discuss delicate matters such as this until we are home. Now come. We are wasting precious time,” Saldivar spoke impatiently as he began walking east. “We have wasted enough as it is,” he said under his breath.
Van followed Saldivar warily at first. He did not know one thing about this man. For all he knew, Saldivar could be some kind of killer. A person who charmed and spoke sincerely, by deep down held some kind of tyrannical monster.
Saldivar heard Van’s every thought. True, some beings like him could be vicious fiends, but he was not one of them. “That I am not, my cautious friend,” Saldivar smiled.
“Stop doing that……..that whatever it is you are doing,” Van ordered a bit weakly. He cocked his head to one side, obviously puzzled. “How do you do that anyway?”
“In due time, impatient one,” Saldivar said evenly, not letting Van in on anything at this time.
Van decided to continue following Saldivar. The promise of food, a bath and a fresh change of clothes sounded like pure heaven to him.
Nothing was said for the remainder of the trek to Saldivar’s home.
Castle, really. Van observed in awe as they walked through the wrought iron gate and up a narrow stone path that led to a rather large wooden arched door. It was beautifully crafted in rich brown color with an epithet carved neatly in the middle: a single S. It could have meant anything but somehow Van knew it stood for Saldivar. The vastness of the house took Van’s very breath away. It was an old ethereal beauty.
When Van studied it more closely, however, he realized it was in ruin. Cracks had s
tarted forming in various places. Ivy had grown into parts of the walls and covered some of the dusty windows, obscuring the view of a well maintained yard. Mainly, it was the wear and tear of many years and harsh rains, foul winters and blazing summers. The combinations reeked havoc on a person’s home.
Though the front yard was well kept, it hosted no flowers or none that Van could see. He guessed that maybe they lay dormant because autumn was giving way to another frigid winter. Or, it could be Saldivar saw no need for such things.
Van scanned Saldivar’s place as a whole.
It must have been enchanting long ago, Van concluded.
“It was,” Saldivar said as he unlocked his door and stepped through with Van following behind him.
“How would you know?” Van wondered.
“I was here when they first built it.” He paused momentarily for effect. “One hundred and fifty years ago.” He laughed, making Van think he was jesting.
Van chuckled along with him. “Oh, some kind of humorous entertainment.”
Saldivar’s smile faded rather quickly. “Certainly not,” he stated in all seriousness.
Van’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head. How was he supposed to comment to something like that? He was definitely bemused at this whole situation.
Saldivar led Van into the antechamber. Off to the right side was the living area. The fireplace there, classic in its smooth black stone, crackled with a blazing fire to ward off the chill of the night. Upon its marble mantle were a myriad of very elaborate sculptures of women. Van walked into the living area to study them more closely. There were two tiny holes on their necks. Van grimaced. Their eyes, he noted, were frozen in euphoria. Their look seemed to say that this is what they had wanted.
Van shivered unconsciously as he continued perusing the house, noting that looks can be deceiving. The outside of Saldivar’s castle did not mirror the inside. Van was expecting worn walls and chairs and threadbare rugs, dusty with disuse. Saldivar was full of surprises.
Van reasoned that it could be Saldivar wished to remain in solitude. If he wanted company, he would simply seek it out.
Funny, Van thought, that I would surmise such a thing.
Van noticed how strange the stairs were to the second floor of this gigantic place. Straight ahead was the hallway lined with scrolled, brass candle sconces holding either a black or a red candle. The stairs were on either side and as you ascended them, they curved and circled slightly back up near the antechamber, leading to, Van assumed, the bedrooms or other such rooms.
The antechamber, he observed, was circular with round, expensive rugs hued in deep burgundy and jade adorned the middle of the floor, forming a perfect concentric circle.
Saldivar had a very unique style that seemed to be all his own. Everything came together quite beautifully. Van admired the structure and decorative touches here and there. He knew that everything in Saldivar’s home was expensive. He had seen plenty of wealthy people. He knew what they preferred in their homes. He would never have it but at least he knew a little about the prices of homes and its belongings along with the price of the beautiful clothing he saw men and women prancing around in.
Saldivar entered the living area and silently watched Van peruse his personal effects.
The stone floors were, yet again, covered in expensive rugs, though these had tigers and leopards woven into the threads. Their camouflage of orange and black seemed to pop out of the fabric. They looked alive and ready to pounce out at you at a moment’s notice.
The arms of the chairs and the legs of the tables also had exotic animals carved into the deep, rich mahogany. Rich wood and shades of brown gave the room a comforting ambiance. It was very welcoming and relaxing.
The soft couches looked so inviting. They made you want to sink into them, giving you the respite you were desperately looking for. Van felt he could sleep there and never want to awaken.
Van walked over to the oil paintings scattered about the neutral colored walls. They were painted with such a perfectly skilled hand, Van thought the people posing in them would come to life at any moment. They looked happy in these poses. Happy and wealthy. Now they will be eternal. At least through the painting.
Over the mantle of the fireplace there hung one painting that caught Van’s eye. It was Saldivar staring back at him. Van blinked. He looked over at Saldivar to make sure he was really there and not fooling him with this painting. Because the date made Van do a double take. Van studied it queerly. It read 1357. Saldivar looked exactly the same as he did now. The impeccable clothing. That distinguished mien. The dark hair and sallow skin. You could almost see his soul through eyes that held nothing back. He looked ready to conquer the world. His posture boasted a confidence Van neither felt nor had in his entire life. What a feeling it must be to exude such a powerful stance.
To be fearless in a world of uncertainty. It was not an arrogant pose but a post of being proud and sure of oneself.
Van’s eyes ping-ponged from Saldivar to the painting. If the date was really correct, Saldivar was painted three hundred and forty years ago. But that could not be possible. No one could live that long. Not that age and be human, that is. Van raised his eyes to Saldivar’s slowly. He didn’t seem inhuman to him.
Van was so nonplussed he did not know what to think about anything any more.
“I see your eyes are filled with many questions,” perceived Saldivar, finally speaking. Van opened his mouth to speak. Saldivar held up his hand and Van closed his mouth. “I will indeed answer your inquiries as soon as you have bathed and changed your clothes.” Saldivar scrutinized Van’s attire. “Or what is left of them.”
Van followed Saldivar obediently as he led the way to a room, holding a black candlestick to light the way.
Van noticed a large basin brimming to the rim with warm water. Beside it was a washcloth and cleaning soaps. Van inhaled the scent of cleanliness. It smelled wonderful to him. He didn’t know the time he actually used cleaning soaps on his withered looking body.
Saldivar went to a wooden chest filled with a variety of clothing. He pulled out a suitable and sensible white shirt and black trousers, under clothing and shoes. He placed them neatly upon the bed.
“You will find these comfortable,” Saldivar stated as he pointed to them.
Van smiled, somewhat embarrassed. He wasn’t used to such hospitality. “Thank you.”
Saldivar nodded. “I will leave you to your business. I will be in the kitchen, which is down the hall to your left, when you are ready. But take all the time you need,” Saldivar said politely.
Van nodded. Before he turned to the basin, he shouted, “Wait!” Van quickly lit another candle. “You will need a candle to see by. I have yours.” Van started to hand Saldivar the candle but he only shook his head and smiled slyly. “That will not be required,” he pointed out. “I can see quite well without it.” As he walked out, Van stood there, shaking his head, his brow heavy with consternation. Somehow he thought Saldivar enjoyed being the human enigma.
*
Saldivar needed nourishment. He had not fed all night and now he was quite ravenous. But he had things to take care of and feeding had become last on his list of things to do.
Bloodlust was a powerful force to be reckoned with, even with the strongest of vampires, but it was one he always held in check. He was very careful not to harm any one during feeding.
It would not take long to feed tonight and he would be back to prepare Van’s meal in plenty of time.
He shut the front door quietly so as not to arouse any suspicion to Van. He took in the picturesque beauty of the night and drew in a deep breath.
He bolted at once. Running with lightning speed and capability, he scanned the town, searching for a secluded area. Most people were already in their homes either resting or hosting some kind of dinner party.
It was pitch dark by now, but he could see clearly in the black night like an animal, it not better.
As he ran, he inhaled at
the air, picking up the scent of blood. A fresh, young female. He could hear the blood running through her veins. He could sense that this blood was pure. Innocent. His blood of choice.
Saldivar waited stealthily behind an enormous tree. Patiently, he waited for her to cross his path. He felt somewhat like a tiger stalking its prey, though he never killed his catch. The closer she came near him, the headier and more potent her blood became.
The pretty young female passed by the tree, oblivious to Saldivar and what awaited her. Quick as a flash, he grabbed her. She had no time to react before he dragged her behind the massive tree. No one would see them there should someone happen by.
Saldivar gazed into her panic stricken blue eyes. Though she was afraid, not a sound escaped her now pale lips. He peered into her eyes intently and willed her to be calm. With that, she went lax in his arms. Her blonde tresses flowed in the slight wind. Her arms, falling beside her body.
Saldivar caressed the supple flesh of her neck just before he lowered his head to the left pulse of her creamy, yielding skin. His canines pierced her neck and he drank greedily. Deeply. Hungrily. He did not take enough to kill the young woman. He cherished life. He would not take a life even if to save his own. Sometimes the blood sucking beast came to life inside of him while tasting his treasure but he had tight reins on it and always squelched the urge to drink more.
When he had his fill, Saldivar lifted his head and looked into her slightly vacant eyes once more. She would not remember this. She would go home, sink into bed and this will feel like a dream. The two puncture marks will not be there when she awoke. He let her go gently and bolted so fast she could not see him.
Saldivar made his way into the door and went into the kitchen to prepare Van’s dinner. It was a rather simple meal and he knew Van would appreciate it. He finished quickly then sat down. He was pouring the wine when Van entered a few minutes later.
Van beamed as he sat down to a meal of roasted meat, fruit, cheese and bread and wine. He inhaled the heavenly aromas gratefully. He could not remember a time he had had such food.
NightFall (NightFall: Book One) Page 2