The Glass Vampire

by David Page

  "Do you mind if I ask you a question?” He scrambled for a question.

  “Shoot.”

  “Why do you continue to wear a shirt and a tie for the graveyard shift of a company that loathes anything resembling the ‘old school’?”

  Ray leaned forward. “To make a point.”

  “And what point would that be?” Richard pressed.

  “The point is that it’s my choice.” His smile faded. “If everyone conforms to dressing like a slob, and if they harass those who don’t, then they have created a uniform just as sure as if they were wearing suits.”

  “Ah, an excellent observation.” Richard knew the double standards employed by the masses all too well. “It is the same as those who reject Christianity only to run to an organized Pagan church.”

  Ray frowned. “I never thought about it like that, but yeah, I guess that’s true.”

  For a moment, they sat there in silent agreement. Finally, Richard sighed.

  “Thank you, Ray.”

  “For what?”

  “For treating me like just another coworker."

  "Hey, no problem." Ray shrugged. “We’re all only human.”

  Before he could answer, the skin on the back of his neck tingled and his throat tightened as he spied the unmistakable lanky form of Frederick Cortez standing in the restaurant's doorway. Cortez’ black trench coat and fedora gave him the impression of someone playing spy. Richard thought this was done with intention, though he was not sure if it was to simply play to Cortez’ flair for the dramatic or if it was done to somehow through people off. The man leaned on a cane as he scanned the room. His steel grey eyes settled on Richard. With a curt nod and a slight tip of his black fedora, he maneuvered his way across the room with surprising grace given his limp. His black overcoat billowed behind him leaving Richard to wonder if he had a hairdryer or a fan rigged on his back to aid his flair for the dramatic. Either way, it revealed the semi-automatic pistol at his side.

  "Blast," Richard muttered.

  "What is it?" Ray looked over his shoulder. "Jesus, who is that guy? He looks like Ichabod Crane."

  "That is Special Agent Frederick Cortez, my Parole Officer." Richard could not keep the bitterness out of his voice. He resisted the urge to run, knowing it would do him no good.

  Ray narrowed his eyes. "Your Department watchdog."

  "Precisely." Richard dropped his hands to his lap and looked down in a submissive manner. He breathed out slowly. If the man knew of his conversation with Beth, then he would have to think fast to exonerate himself of any wrong doing. A cold chill swept through him.

  “He doesn’t look like a cop,” Ray noted. “He looks more like an angry college professor.”

  “He is a unique individual. And in fact, at one point he was a history scholar. Do not let his look deceive you. He was one of the Department’s best agents and attained a very high-level position at one point.” Richard went silent as Frederick stopped at their table.

  The agent removed his hat, revealing a large bald spot on the top of his head and dropped it onto the table. He then grabbed a chair from another table, flipped it around so that the back faced was away from him and straddled it. Despite being in a sitting position, he still looked down at them. His gaze settled on Richard.

  "Well, Richard, it's nice to see you socializing with your coworkers. Aren't you going to introduce me?" His thin lips cracked into the smallest of smiles, revealing an arrogance that reminded Richard of the way the Spaniards had looked down upon the Aztecs.

  "This is Ray McPherson, my supervisor at Big River." He breathed out slowly, and forced himself to appear casual. There was no way he could know about Beth.

  "Very good to meet you, Ray." Frederick shifted forward and offered one thin hand.

  For his part, Ray seemed to take it in stride, shaking his hand without missing a beat.

  "Nice to meet you, too."

  "Do you require something of me?" Richard asked, politely.

  "To the point. Good." Frederick turned back towards him. "We lost contact with you for nearly 6 minutes today. I just wanted to make sure everything was all right."

  You mean to make sure I'm still under control. Richard held the thought. "You must be referring to the support call I responded to. It was in an office near one of the electrical junctions." His hands tingled, then his arms as tension slithered through his body.

  "Is that a fact?" Frederick continued to stare at him.

  "It's true." Ray showed remarkable composure. Normally, agents intimidated everyone, vampires and humans alike.

  "I have done everything you’ve asked of me for years and I will continue to do so,” Richard assured him.

  Frederick looked at Ray and then turned his attention back to Richard. "Of course you have, Richard…because you have not had any choice. But I know you…and deep down, you’re looking for a way out, searching for a way to reclaim what you have lost….”

  Richard opened his mouth to protest, but Frederick silenced him with a wave.

  “Never mind, Richard. It’s what you are. You’re compelled by predatory instincts that you can barely control. We’ve given you the means to mask those desires, but you’re still a vampire beneath that civilized exterior."

  Ray's face reddened.

  "I was a human being once," Richard answered, before Ray could interrupt. The last thing Richard needed was for his one friend getting in trouble.

  "For about twenty-five years during the Middle Ages.” Frederick laughed, a hollow sound. “Sorry, that just doesn't count."

  Ray thumped his palm on the table. "Listen, Agent Cortez, I don't appreciate you harassing one of my friends. Richard’s done a great job in a tough situation and I'd appreciate it if you'd leave him alone."

  "A human leaps to the defense of a vampire and calls him a friend."

  Frederick turned on him. “Interesting ."

  “You call it whatever you want.” Ray stood up. “Now, I don't remember inviting you to join us…so if you don't mind…." He motioned to the door with one hand.

  “I like you, Ray. You make me laugh.” Frederick smiled but made no move to leave. "Maybe you can help this moron of a vampire deal with the teenagers that are harassing him to."

  Ray clenched his fists.

  "Ray, it's all right." Richard's hands tingled as shame washed over him. He had become such a weak pathetic being that he needed others to fight his battles for him.

  “Oh very good, Richard. I like you much better this way. Subservient and weak.” Frederick turned to leave. "I'll be watching."

  “Of course.” Richard nodded his acquiescence, belying the relief he felt. Frederick clearly knew nothing of Beth. He was simply there to harass him.

  "Gentlemen." Frederick grabbed his cane, took his hat, and bowed stiffly.

  Richard watched his nemesis saunter back the way he had come.

  “The guy is an asshole,” Ray said, finally. "What's his problem? Did a vampire mess up his leg and give him that limp?"

  "Actually, I believe he fell down nine flights of stairs."

  "Really?" Ray asked.

  "No.” Richard wondered what Ray would think of him if he knew he had plunged a sword through the man’s leg.

  6

  “You really don’t need to escort me back to the sleeping tubes.” Richard stopped on the curb outside the diner. He glanced at the brightening sky nervously. It would not be long before the dread sun would rise. Not even the skyscrapers lining the street would protect him from its rays for long as it cleared the horizon. He shivered involuntarily.

  “I’m headed this way anyhow.” Ray stopped next to him on the empty sidewalk. “I think I left one of my notebooks in the office.”

  “Your notebook?” Richard had developed quite a keen truth detector over the years. It led him to the realization that there was no lost notebook, however he did not think Ray’s lie was made out of malice or ill intent.

  “I just realized it’s on my desk.” Ray stepped
into the street, ignoring the Do not walk sign. At this hour, the entire length of Seventh Avenue, from the convention center and past Pacific Place was empty.

  It was a half a block to their building. Its art deco façade greeted them like an old friend, warm and inviting, reminding Richard of a simpler time. Certainly, the 1940’s and 50’s had been good to him. They entered the lobby and paused just inside, in front of the polished marble security kiosk.

  “Can I help you?” An elderly gentleman in an imitation police hat squinted at them and then shook his head disapprovingly. “Oh, it’s you.”

  “And me,” Ray moved closer. “I’m just running upstairs and Richard is headed for the tubes in the basement.”

  “Oh, hello there, Ray.” The guard’s eyes widened with recognition. “Go ahead inside, you two.”

  “Thank you.” Richard walked slowly past him, conscious of the man’s burning stare in his back. He paused in front of the elevators and hit both buttons.

  “Sorry about that. Dan’s a good guy once he gets to know you,” Ray apologized.

  “I will never get to know him.” Richard sighed. “Most people will never give me a chance.”

  The elevator doors opened and the down arrow lit up.

  “This is my car,” Richard stepped inside and spun quickly back towards Ray. “Thank you for allowing me to join you for breakfast. It was pleasant.”

  “No problem. We’ll do it again.” Ray shrugged. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Yes. Tonight.” Richard released the button and the doors slid together. At the last instant, he thought he saw the briefest hint of satisfaction on his “friend’s” face and then the doors closed.

  ***

  Through the hazy gauze of vampire sleep, Richard became aware of a distant buzzing. For a moment, he couldn't move, couldn't even twitch a finger, but as the sound grew louder, the cloud slowly lifted. After what seemed like an eternity, he opened his eyes and saw the harsh gray metal of the sleeping tube's ceiling mere inches from his face.

  He blinked, adjusting slowly to the dim light provided by the flashing readouts of his bracelet. Reaching for his right wrist, he pressed the light on his small analogue watch. It was 6 PM. He'd slept over ten hours. He could feel comforting darkness that had descended on the outside world with the coming of night.

  He reached back, feeling around until he found the latch, and unlocked it. He opened the door and then, using the runners to either side of him, pushed the slab out into the dim light of the empty waiting room. None of the other seven tubes were open and the vacant lights indicated that they were empty. He had gotten used to that; used to being the only vampire in the company. It hardly mattered.

  The small room contained only a few plastic chairs and a round wooden table on which a small slip of yellow paper lay. It had not been there when Richard had gone to sleep. He had developed quite a good memory for where things were in the environment around him over the years. He stepped closer and saw his name written in neat handwriting. He frowned.

  "What now?"

  The paper proved to be a Yellow Pages advertisement for a bar in the Post Alley called the "Nosferatu." Someone had written the number 10 in each corner. He turned it over and found the initials BB. "Beth Bryant." He crumpled the paper and tossed it into the small trashcan. There was no way in hell he was going to meet that woman anywhere.

  ***

  A steady drizzle beaded off the cobblestones of the Post Alley as Richard hurried towards the Nosferatu. He pulled his hood tighter about him and thrust his hands into his coat pockets. His fingers closed around the glass figurine and he squeezed it as if it would somehow protect him from the weather. It didn’t.

  “What am I doing?” he asked the empty space around him. Beth’s invitation had all the markings of a trap and by all rights he should never go within a hundred yards of the woman again. Even as this thought entered his mind, however, the image of the woman in the red dress ripped through his rational thoughts. He yearned to remember more about her and that desire drew him through the wet night inexorably towards Beth and whatever tangled web she had fallen into.

  Tall brick buildings, some of Seattle's oldest, rose on either side of him, growing taller as he descended towards the waterfront. A young couple, huddled under a giant umbrella, rushed past, laughing as they shared their misery. They darted into the nearest doorway, a small teahouse. Richard looked down at the cracks between the stones at his feet. As a human, a thousand years ago, he had never truly loved anyone, but as a vampire he had found several women to hold his attentions over the long span of his life. The last of those had been over two hundred years earlier, during the last days of the revolution. A noxious mix of hatred and despair bubbled within him, blackening his barely beating heart. He had very nearly brought her over, made her like him, but she had refused his gift and fled into the night. Mere hours later, she had brought the men of the fledgling Department to his door. He gritted his teeth and forced her from his mind. Only the woman in red mattered now.

  A door slammed somewhere ahead. Most of the shops located in the alley had apparently closed their doors for business some time ago, however a short distance away, perhaps halfway to the end of the tourist area, a small group of purple-haired, nose-ringed, black clad people milled around a large black door. The Nosferatu, I presume?

  He cast a look over his shoulder. In the shadows where the alley turned a corner, heading eventually up onto First Avenue, he thought he saw a dim human form pressed up against one wall. With his sight reduced to that of the average human, he could not be sure what he was looking at. Regardless, Frederick or his people were out there somewhere.

  He pulled back his hood. He had chosen to wear his dark, patchwork coat. It would allow him to blend into the zombie-like denizens of the gothic club. Beyond that, he wore a black button-down shirt, a pair of dark jeans, and black shoes. He had pulled the cuff of his shirt securely over his bracelet. The last thing he needed was for the Nosferatu’s vampire lovers to mob him.

  He paused near the door. The alternative youths milling about the entrance ignored him, however the two massive bouncers, each wearing a tight fitting black shirt that accented their huge pectoral and bicep muscles, watched him closely. Richard sighed. When he had been strong, he could have snapped them both in half, now they would pulp him with ease.

  The door opened heralded by blasting music that sounded like a cross between Gregorian chant and techno pop. The bass beat of the music shook the very stones beneath his feet. He wondered how they could tolerate such a high-volume level and if prolonged exposure would cause any hearing loss or inner ear damage. For a moment, he wished the virus had rendered him deaf too.

  Beth appeared in the doorway between the bouncers. She smiled innocently, an odd expression against the severity of her black hair and lipstick and her long black coat. She raised one hand, revealing the flared sleeve of a velvet dress beneath and then waved him forward. A mix of relief and anxiety flooded Richard’s senses. He took a deep breath, cursed himself for this foolhardy act, and allowed her to lead him inside.

  The pulse and sheer volume of the music nearly knocked him off his feet. He staggered, barely keeping his balance as they pushed through the throng of sweaty goths towards the dance-floor. Even when he had been a true vampire, he had never enjoyed these types of establishments. The noise was always overwhelming to him, especially with his full vampire senses.

  Beth led him deeper into the sea of black clad figures gyrating beneath the tarnished disco ball. Green, blue, and yellow lights glinted off the reflective surfaces of the ball casting a star pattern of odd colors in every direction, while a strobe light in the far corner flashed at a frenetic pace. As he looked up, he spied dozens of people crowded like sardines on a balcony. With the thick cloud of cigarette smoke hovering there, he wondered how they could breathe and how they had gotten around the stat’s no smoking laws.

  Someone bumped him, knocking him sideways. A second person hip check
ed him, sending him back, and a third person pushed him forward. His hands tingled slightly and his breathing grew rapid. He fell against Beth, nearly knocking her over. She spun with surprising swiftness and caught his arm to steady him in a strong grip. She shouted something he could not hear, then pointed towards a door on the far side of the room.

  He nodded his understanding and allowed her to lead on. Anything to get away from the constricting throng of people. After several minutes, they reached a second dark hallway that led to a single doorway marked with the coed restroom sign. She looked up at him.

  "Here's the bathroom." She tilted her head towards the door. "Go inside and lock the door behind you."

  Richard nodded, still trying to steady his breathing and slow his pulse back to its normal nearly nonexistent rhythm. He slipped inside, closed and locked the door behind him, and stood in the center of the small room. It was open, with one toilet, sink and paper-towel dispenser. The stench of human refuse and sweat washed over him, causing him to gag. Dirt smeared the floor and grime and colorful graffiti clung to every inch of the walls. He wondered what good sitting in a nasty bathroom was doing for Beth's purpose and then he noticed the grate along the wall by the toilet.

  "Richard, put down the seat and sit." Beth's voice carried easily through the vent… and most assuredly to the audio pickups on his bracelet. Again, he fought the urge to run.

  "Relax, this room is what we call a "Safe Room," it sends out an audio track of someone using the toilet and then freshening up. Anyone monitoring your bracelet will pick that up instead of your normal audio. But we don't have a lot of time, so sit."

  Richard believed her. He was not sure why, but he did. He sat down as she had instructed, his head level with the grate. Looking in, he could see Beth through a second grate about five feet away. "It has been nearly eight hundred years since I last sat in a confessional." Many vampires did not need nor care about God, however given the effects the cross and many other religious icons had on his kind, churches, synagogues, mosques, and temples had been and still were places to be avoided. He was not certain who or what God was, but he, she or it seemed to enjoy punishing vampires. This truth brought many questions to mind about the nature of religion and God that Richard and those like him had debated over the centuries.