The Vampirists

by R. G. Nelson

  “Maybe it's for the best: I'll keep blocking him out for as long as it takes. Perk of being head recruiter for the city,” Vera says. She pauses before continuing, “But you should know, when I say I'm good at reading people, I mean it. It's one of my vampire specialties. And what I've read in Franklin is not good. He's becoming twisted and angry at the world. He won't take continuing to be shut out well.”

  “He’s just gonna have to deal with it,” I say emphatically.

  “Adam, you know you once told me you didn’t want him involved because he had no one to look out for him the way you had me. But you could be that person; you are one of us now.”

  “I’m one of you now.” I try repeating the words, but they still sound strange and unreal. To be honest, I hadn’t really come around to considering her point yet. Before, I was focused on my own status as a determined outsider (or at best a fringe member), and now I haven’t had the time to think about how being–as she puts it–“one of them” will change things. But even as I open up to the possibility of bringing Franklin in on this, I simultaneously realize I can’t possibly do that. Not before I even figure out for myself exactly what all this Movement stuff is, not to mention what it means to be a member of the undead.

  We reach Vera’s place before I know it. From the outside, nothing can be seen except for blacked out and heavily shuttered windows. The building is quite nondescript: the quintessential any-town USA rundown, brown-bricked apartment building. My new home. It looks distinctly uninviting and extremely unappealing, but I guess that’s the point.

  I can hear music blaring within. I’m also surprised to realize I can make out voices chattering quietly inside, despite the cacophony coming from the stereos. I hear Hamad’s unique clip and I tense up involuntarily. I haven’t even really thought about how they’ll take this. Do they want another roommate? Can Vera just turn people at will the way she did? Shouldn’t there have been some process? It’s too late to ponder these questions deeply now because within seconds we are entering the living room.

  Several vampires are hanging around, including Laney and Hamad. A few look up to give us a cursory welcome, but then I notice their gazes become fixed on the bags that I’m carrying.

  Vera breaks the silence first. “Guys, we have to talk. We have a new roommate,” she says matter-of-factly.

  “Vera, you can't just have a human move in …” Hamad begins with barely disguised annoyance, but his voice trails off. I can see nostrils flaring to take in my scent and heads cocking slightly to the side as if to hear me better (or hear what should be there but isn’t). I do it back–for the first time really taking in these creatures with more than just my sense of sight. Our eyes lock and I know what they are seeing: my new icy blue eyes.

  “Oh, V, what did you do?” Laney asks.

  “Did Joseph approve this? You know there are rules, Vera–,” Hamad starts in before being cut off by Vera.

  “Look, I know. But he was dying. I'll straighten it out tomorrow. Let him enjoy his first night.”

  Laney and Hamad look at each other for a moment, considering, before Hamad shrugs. “Whatever. But if you don't tell Joseph then, I will.” He turns to me and acknowledges me directly for the first time tonight. “Welcome to the Movement. I wasn't sure you'd join.”

  “I wasn't trying to,” I say quickly and perhaps somewhat too defensively.

  Hamad gives one of his devious chuckles. “I didn’t see you exactly running away from us either.” He nods at my outfit, still smiling slyly. “Nice shirt.” I look down and realize how ironic this particular shirt must seem. It was one of those available on every street corner that captured one of the local Southeast Asian sayings: same same but different. I guess that pretty much sums up my night tonight–and I’m only realizing now that I was walking around outside in the winter without even a jacket on. I’ll need to get better at masking my new nature.

  Hamad is still watching me, so I try to give an answer that isn’t rude, but also doesn’t invite further conversation. “Yeah, thanks. Picked it up backpacking. Those were better times.”

  Vera’s hand takes mine gently. Her simple touch is electrifying: I realize that whatever I felt for her before seems amplified a hundred times, which I wouldn’t have thought possible, given how crazy I was about her just yesterday. A guy could spend an eternity holding that hand.

  “Better times are still ahead–for us both,” she tells me, guiding me into her room.

  Inside, we drop all my stuff on the floor instantly, and I decide to feel how it is to lie under her sheets with my new vampiric senses.

  * * *

  The rooftop is empty, but the wide open night is filled with promise. We sit on the ledge of a building with our legs dangling down to the depths below. It’s weird: I don’t feel that pit in my stomach and knees that I normally do when faced with such heights; you know, that feeling of natural fear that you get where your body tells you to back up … it’s like my body has realized that it’s dead and there is no point.

  Vera reaches deep into an inner pocket beneath her jacket and pulls out two bags of something. “I tried to keep it warm for us.”

  Blood. My senses pick it up even with the tight plastic cover. Abruptly, I feel a tingling sensation creep through my whole body–all my nerves and fibers are anticipating what’s to come. I give a little yelp as a sudden pain stabs in my mouth. My tongue probes the spot gingerly: fangs. Of course. I should have expected that. I push on them and again feel a stab of pain as the razor sharpness easily penetrates the surface of my tongue.

  But already I notice that the sensation of pain has changed. I feel it, but there is not the same terror as when I was a human and pain signaled things going wrong with my body. Now it is a sensation like any other; although not very pleasant, still not something to be feared. I can further tell that the cut on my tongue has already disappeared because the small fount of my own blood has been cut off.

  Eagerly, I take the bag that Vera offers. As a human, when Vera and I used to play our little blood games, I often wondered if I could ever really like drinking blood. I didn’t think so then. And even now, as I glance at the bag, a part of me is repelled by what I’m about to do. But another part, the much, much larger part, makes me move without thinking and rip it open at the top.

  “Careful, be gentle,” Vera cautions. “You don’t want to spill in your haste. Think of it like a juice box, just without the straw.”

  A juice box. Right. I squeeze and the blood begins to flow. I’d like to say that I almost gag at the taste, that I only continue drinking because I have to in order to survive this undeath. But that’s not the truth. The truth is: It’s amazing. More than amazing. It’s the best thing I’ve ever had. It’s a Haagen-Daz milkshake with all the trappings … no, it must be more like pure glacial water when you’ve been lost in the desert for a week. But the warmth, I feel it coursing through me. I’m reminded of freezing winter days when my mom would give me hot chocolate after I had been playing in the snow for far too long. I can tell by the tingle that the blood’s at work activating and rejuvenating my cells.

  “Does it always taste this good?” I ask.

  “Yes and no,” Vera says simply. I look at her curiously. “You get used to it a bit, I guess. And like human food, it’s better if you haven’t eaten in a while. Or if it’s fresh.”

  She glances at me to see how I digest that. Fresh blood. I shake my head, happy to realize that even though my body doesn’t seem to be against such a notion, my mind can still draw a mental line that I’m not willing to cross. Vera smiles knowingly as she watches me consider fresh blood. I wonder what she thinks she knows–that of course I’d be uncomfortable with it? Or was that look more like I know he’ll change his mind soon enough?

 
In a heartbeat (though I can no longer measure that accurately myself), Vera stands up abruptly. “See if you can keep up.”

  “What? Where are we going?” I ask surprised.

  “Don't overthink anything, just do it.”

  Before I can get the logical follow up out of my mouth (do what?), she’s gone running in a blur several times normal human speed to the other edge of the roof behind us. In the spirit of not overthinking things, I take off after her. It’s an interesting sensation, I run the way I did when human, only I can just keep accelerating and accelerating. I guess I must be moving cheetah-like with my legs in a blur, too, because Vera is suddenly not too far ahead of me.

  I see her leap across the large gap to the other building. It’s taller than this one, so I don’t understand where she is planning to go, but then I watch her gracefully land spread-eagle on the wall. She sticks. Freaky, freaky, freaky. Even worse, she moves almost insect-like up the wall to the top of that building, just as she did in that dark alley a lifetime ago.

  I follow unthinkingly, launching myself across the divide. I feel as though I should be scared, but I can sense the power in my body and somehow know that I’ll be okay. The landing is easier than I expect; I don’t have any of the jarring or hard impact sensation I was expecting. The scramble up is a bit awkward; my knees keep bumping into the wall. It works easier if I imagine myself shimmying on the ground under something like on an obstacle course.

  As I clear the edge, I see Vera waiting for me with a look of mock impatience. She rolls her eyes as if exasperated with me and takes off again. Okay, I’m not really sure what I’m capable of, but I definitely don’t want my girlfriend thinking her new vampire boyfriend is weak sauce. I push myself to what I think is my top speed and almost catch her. She looks back in surprise, and I swear even at these speeds I can see a smile of satisfaction creep across her face.

  But then she somehow widens the gap between us and jumps over one of those little roof access hut thingies: It’s easily a 10-foot vertical, not to mention the depth. Again, I trust in the abilities and hurl myself up, up and over. I have no time to celebrate my accomplishment because Vera is already in the air on the way to the next building. This time, she catches the edge of a fire escape railing and seamlessly drops down to the level below. Like a cat, she lands on the railing for that level in a crouched position, completely balanced and at home on that super thin bar of metal.

  I’m in the air now and though it’s only for a few, brief seconds, I see her running a few steps on the railing before shooting out yet again into the air, heading across a busy intersection over 20 stories below. Mid-air, she turns and watches me as I grab onto the same railing and begin to repeat her motions on the fire escape. Our eyes lock, the twinkle of lights in her eyes and the grin on her face show me how much fun she is having. I realize in that moment how much she must have been holding back to have been with me as a human. But that’s behind us now, and in front only starry nights and endless rooftops to explore.

  I admit I pause on the railing and look down at the traffic far, far below. I can’t help but think of that movie where the guy in the computer program fell during his first jump. Across the way, Vera has landed and is watching me. “Oh, AAAAdddaaaammm …” I hear her voice softly calling out to me. Here goes nothing.

  I tense and curl down, trying to coil my legs like a spring. A moment later, I let myself loose and fling out into the night. I’m sailing out farther than I ever would have thought possible. In fact, I see that I’m going to go past Vera and so try to somehow shorten my trajectory. I only manage to look very foolish and land awkwardly in a place I obviously wasn’t aiming for. Still, as I stare back to where I came from, I can’t help but smile. I just made one heck of a jump.

  “Not bad,” Vera says simply. She does love to tease.

  “Not bad?” I close the distance to where she stands on the ledge and start to tickle her sides, oblivious to the massive drop looming just feet away.

  She’s laughing now. “Yeah, not bad. You know, for a first timer.”

  “Know what I think?” I say as I pick her up and start to spin her. “I think you’re gonna need a new nickname for me.”

  “Awww, you mean, I can’t call you human anymore?” she says with feigned disappointment.

  “I don’t think it really applies now, do you?”

  “Well, if I don’t call you human, what should I call you?”

  “How about, amazing one? Or god of my unlife?”

  “Mmmmm…no, those don’t really sound all that catchy. You know, I think I’ll stick with human. After all, to me you’ll always be my little human.”

  I’m about to protest when I find her lips on mine. All my witty comebacks slip from my mind as I feel her unchecked intensity; she’s unrestrained as she never was when I was alive. I lose myself in those lips, in the brush of her hair on my cheeks, and the fold of her body melding into mine. But then, just as suddenly as they came, the lips are gone and I’m left holding empty sky. Two feet away, Vera winks at me and drops backward off the ledge.

  I step to the edge and see her land far, far below in the alley next to the building. She looks back up at me, her shape and eyes easily distinguishable with my new vision. I drop down without questioning myself and am soon hand in hand with my angel. We head out onto the main road and she takes my arm to squeeze in even tighter. A guy could get used to this.

  “How do you not use your abilities all the time? It’s amazing,” I say.

  “You’re so cute.”

  “I’m serious, how is it not just the coolest thing ever?”

  “Well, you can’t use them endlessly; they do drain you after a while, just like if humans do something extreme like run a marathon. You’ll need blood to refuel.”

  Now that she mentions it, I do feel somewhat tired. Not tired in the out of breath kind of way, but more like, yeah, being drained. Like how you don’t have as much energy when you are sick or just wake up as you do when you’re your normal, healthy self.

  She continues, “But honestly, you should enjoy your gifts now. You kinda get used to them quickly. Some of the guys compare it to using cheat codes in a videogame. Super fun at first, but then it just becomes your new base line–par for the course.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to being able to jump down 20 stories and land without a scratch.”

  “Maybe. And hey, more power to you if you can manage to appreciate it. It'll make this life of ours more enjoyable.”

  “Speaking of, if hundred-foot drops won't kill me, what can? I think I should qualify to know trade secrets now,” I tell her.

  “You do.” She reaches up and kisses my cheek affectionately. Then abruptly to business she says, “Well, a silver stake through the heart will do it.”

  “Silver, not wood?”

  She laughs at me. “Wood is a rumor our ancestors spread so they wouldn't get silver stakes through their hearts. Humans used to be stupid like that.”

  “Fair enough. So what else? That can’t be all,” I press. Thinking about silver, I ask, “What about werewolves?”

  “Werewolves?” she retorts with one eyebrow raised to emphasize her incredulity.

  “Yeah, you know … in the movies they seem to cause vampires problems sometimes,” I explain weakly.

  “Well, I’ve never met one, but when I do, I’ll let you know what I find out,” she says, laughing a bit. Then a little bit more serious, she elaborates, “Look, I’ve heard the legends, same as you. And there could be some truth there. When I was young, a few older vamps used to tell stories, but I never found these to be particularly credible. And after so long without crossing their path, I think it’s fair to say you don’t have to wor
ry about werewolves … should they even exist.”

  “Okay, so no werewolves,” I respond. Then feeling a touch foolish but going with it, I tack on, “And other creatures of myth?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Fine then,” I relent. “Any other dangers I should watch out for?”

  “Well, you know about the sun. But actually, it's not so bad. Just direct sunlight poses a real danger, really. Many vampires move about and even work in the day with UV filtering glass in their cars and offices.”

  “That’s pretty cool. So I can still see the beach during the day, just can’t go out on it,” I joke. I’m actually pretty relived to find out that there might not be such a big lifestyle adjustment as I thought. I guess except for that whole drinking blood thing.

  “What about fire?” I follow up. I’m pretty sure a lot of those movies I watched for research showed vampires burning to death.

  “Fire hurts, but to a point if you get blood, you can come back from it,” she says. She pauses and smiles to herself as if having a private joke. “Just try not to lose your head–or your heart. Literally.” I guess she must have been coming up with that bad pun. It’s so bad it would be funny if it weren’t for the subject matter. I decide to move the conversation on to more pleasant topics: I don’t want to think about anything bad happening to Vera (or me) right now.

  “So, what other powers do we have?” I ask.

  “It's different for everyone, but your level of power tends to be determined by some mix of how strong your maker is and something like your own inner being. You know, some type of wiring unique to each of us. But with all vampires, you get stronger with time … or if you drink more powerful blood.”