by Alves, Carl
Alexei said, “You told me you would reveal my true identity.”
“You and I are creatures of the night, my friend.”
Alexei shook his head, feeling a mixture of confusion and fear.
“You’re unfamiliar with the term?”
Alexei nodded.
“But you understand the concept. You have sought shelter during the day?”
“Yes.”
“When your transformation is complete, you won’t be able to go out during the day at all. Our kind is destined to walk the night for all of eternity and never see the sun. It is our curse, yet we are blessed with immortality.”
“You mean I can’t die?” Alexei shifted nervously.
“Oh, you can be killed. We’re not invincible. If you don’t meet an unfortunate demise, you can live forever, for you are undead. We have incredible speed, strength and agility. We can do things mortals can only dream of. As you advance in age, your powers will grow. The physical boundaries of the world mean nothing to us. With time you will be able to scale buildings and move so fast people won’t be able to detect you. You will know pleasures that humans can never experience. How did you feel when you drank of that lady’s blood?”
“Vibrant. Rapturous.”
“That feeling only intensifies over time,” Ivan said.
“What happened to the old woman?”
“I gave her a proper burial.”
Alexei shook his head as a tear formed in his eye.
“Don’t weep.” He put his arm on Alexei’s shoulder. “You’d perish without her blood.”
“But I killed her. How can you tell me not to weep?”
“Because we need them to survive. We can drink the blood of animals, but it’s not the same. People sustain us.”
“But I murdered her,” said Alexei.
“Don’t think of it as murder, since you’re no longer human. To us they are animals to use as we see fit.”
Alexei’s eyes narrowed. How could Ivan be so callous?
Ivan told him about his own history, as well as things he needed to know to survive.
“Are there many like us?” Alexei asked.
“Not many. About a dozen in Kiev. Our numbers must be small, or we would overrun the human population. I have met others in my travels. We are small and silent, yet strong and powerful.”
For a while Alexei said nothing, numb to his new reality. Ivan sat beside him wordlessly providing comfort.
“That thing that attacked me, it didn’t look like you or I. It was a twisted, demented creature.”
Ivan stood up with his arms folded and paced the room. “Although I’ve never seen any, I have heard of them before. I believe the wretched beast had been made a creature of the night, then abandoned and left to fend for itself. The early period of one’s conversion is crucial. From the first time I laid eyes on you last week, I knew you were recently turned.”
“I have been in Kiev for a week?”
Ivan nodded. “At least. If I did not find you to help you through this difficult time, the same fate could have befallen you. That beast is probably crazed and unintelligent. A violent and destructive being whose only concern is to feed. You would not want to live like that.”
“But why did it make me a creature of the night? Why didn’t it kill me?”
“Good question. Perhaps it was an inner need to propagate the species.”
Over the next few weeks Ivan mentored Alexei. Each night, he would bring Alexei a fresh kill. Eventually he grew in strength and could hunt on his own.
Alexei stayed with Ivan for a few years. He met others of his kind in Kiev, but he never returned to his old family. That part of his life was over.
Alexei wanted to explore the European continent and meet others of his kind, but Ivan did not want to accompany him. He had already traveled throughout Europe and Asia and wanted to stay put. It was with mixed sadness and excitement that Alexei embarked on his own. Before he left, he needed to do one last thing.
Alexei ventured to the Ukrainian countryside pretending to be a law enforcement official. He asked the citizens if they had seen a wild and dangerous beast, giving them a detailed description. They would not speak about it until one day a blacksmith in a small village told him this beast fatally wounded his daughter. The blacksmith wanted revenge.
Three days after meeting the blacksmith, Alexei found his target lurking in a cave. It had slaughtered a lamb and was drinking its blood. Alexei called out to it. It looked at Alexei with a lack of comprehension in its eyes, then howled in a frenzy. Alexei felt pity, but that did not stop him from fulfilling his mission.
Alexei lunged at it. He grabbed the creature and hurled it against the wall of the cave. Before it could recover, he picked up a stone and smashed its skull. It fell to the ground dazed and badly wounded. Alexei smashed its skull repeatedly with the heavy stone.
Ivan explained about their amazing ability to recover from injury. Alexei did not want to give it a chance to recuperate. He wanted to end its misery, so he pulled out a sword. With one swift motion, he decapitated it and watched its head roll down the cave. This creature was a liability to him and others of his kind.
Alexei smiled when he spotted his elusive visitor standing in the shadows. “Gabriella, I thought you would have retired by now. It’s late.”
“I was waiting up for you.” Gabriella slithered toward him like a feline. “Did you enjoy your evening out?”
“As always. You should come out with me.”
“Perhaps I should.” Gabriella’s voice would be barely audible to human ears, but Alexei heard her with perfect clarity. “You’ve been making the news.”
“Is that right? Andy Warhol said everybody would achieve fifteen minutes of fame. After nearly a millennium, it looks like I have mine.”
Gabriella’s voice was soothing like a cat’s purr. “You know we can’t afford any unwanted attention. That’s what happened in Lisbon, and we had to make a hasty departure.”
Alexei’s pale face darkened. “Let me guess. Magnus told you to talk to me. He wanted you to get me to toe the line. The coward can’t even speak to me himself.”
“I’m acting of my own accord. I care for you and want a harmonious existence for all of us. What you’ve done makes that difficult.”
Alexei turned away from her. “Magnus has forgotten what it’s like to live. I never will. He may still live, but he’s dead in his heart and mind. He’s jealous of me.”
Gabriella leaned her head onto his shoulder. “You misconstrue his intentions. We need secrecy. You would not have been able to live for so long if you were visible to the outside world. Nobody is asking you to stop living. Just be discreet.”
“I’ll take your suggestion under advisement. Now if you don’t mind, I must retire.”
Gabriella sighed as he walked away.
Chapter Eleven
The Goat woke up with a groan. His thudding headache prevented him from getting out of bed. How could he have been so stupid?
His girlfriend Karen was already awake. Of course, she had not been out with the boys last night, drinking and smoking heavily.
She wore a wide smile. “Wake up already, Patrick. I can’t believe Enzo Salerno is actually coming to our apartment. I’m so excited.”
The Goat struggled to sit. His stomach churned, and for a moment he thought he was going to vomit. Eventually the queasy feeling subsided, but his head still spun. “When Enzo comes to your home, that ain’t always a good thing.” He buried his face in his hands as nausea returned.
“Whaddaya mean it ain’t a good thing?” Karen asked. “You didn’t do nothing wrong.”
The Goat groaned.
“I told you not to go drinking, but would you listen to me? No. You had to make an ass out of yourself to impress your friends.”
“Don’t remind me.” He couldn’t get mad at Karen for nagging him. For once, she was right. Enzo called him at seven last night after The Goat returned from closing the books
and taking the last bets. There had been little action with only a handful of baseball games on the schedule. Things would pick up next week when the NFL preseason started.
The Goat couldn’t believe Enzo called. He spoke to few people, and The Goat was not part of his inner circle. The boss told him he would stop by his apartment at noon to discuss business matters.
This news stunned Karen. She took off from work to prepare a lavish feast, even if it would be for three people. The Goat had already made plans to go out with his boys. They always got together on Tuesday, so he told Karen he would still go out, but he would take it easy.
They started out at the Cat House. If he had any sense, he would have suggested alternate plans. After several lap dances, he knew he would regret this night. Four beers in, he was already half lit up.
After leaving the strip joint, they drove across the Betsy Ross Bridge and into Jersey. A friend owned a bar across the river. Inside the bar, they had their own private room. The tequila flowed and to make things worse, one of The Goat’s friends brought a dime-bag of pot. He should have said no, but he was already ripped, so what difference would it make? That turned out to be another bad decision.
By the time they left the bar, he could hardly walk. He stumbled into the apartment at two in the morning, not remembering anything after that.
The Goat rubbed his eyes and tried to stand. “What time is it?”
“It’s nine o’clock.” Karen started a pot of coffee. “Come on. Let’s get going. Mr. Salerno is going to be here before long. You have to get yourself ready.”
“I don’t think so.” He lunged for the bathroom and vomited into the toilet.
“You all right, Patrick?” Karen’s voice had a hint of annoyance. “You know you shouldn’t have gone out partying last night. This is what happens when you do stuff like that.” She hovered outside the door, while he leaned his head against the wall. “You don’t look so good. Why don’t you take a shower. I’ll have some black coffee ready for you.”
The Goat shook his head and flushed the toilet. “I ain’t feeling so good.”
“Of course you ain’t feeling good. You were drunk as a skunk. What do you expect?”
“How about some sympathy?”
“Sympathy?” Karen helped him to his feet. “You did this to yourself. You have to grow up.”
“You sound like my mother.”
“When we get married, you’re not going to go out with your friends all the time.”
Still bleary-eyed, he jumped into the shower. When he finished showering, he put on clothes and took a sip of the coffee. “I don’t think that’s so good for my stomach. Do we have any Tums?”
Karen opened a cabinet door and took out a container of Tums. “Mr. Salerno is going to love this lunch. I’m making Escarole soup, Portobello ravioli and veal chops. Then we’re going to have some Tiramisu I made last night while you were out gallivanting.”
“Thanks, Karen. I appreciate it.”
“Well, you can show your appreciation by picking up some Romaine lettuce. And don’t mess the place up. I’ve been cleaning the apartment since yesterday while…”
“I know, while I was out gallivanting. You made your point.” He tried to sip more coffee. It tasted like mud. “All right. I got to pick up some cigarettes anyway.”
“So what do you think he wants to talk to you about? I don’t think Mr. Salerno goes around making social calls.”
“I don’t know. It’s not like I ever deal with him. Everything goes through Sophie which then goes to Tony and gets filtered down to me. Probably something to do with Johnny.”
Karen lowered her eyes. “God rest his soul.”
“Yeah, Johnny was a great guy. All heart, I tell you.”
“So, does he believe what you told him?” Karen asked.
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.”
The Goat went on his errands. The fresh air made him feel better. He walked to the corner grocery store, a dying breed still alive in this tight-knit South Philly neighborhood.
“Holy mother of God.” He picked up the Philadelphia Daily News. On the cover was a young Vietnamese woman. The headline shouted at him in big, bold print. “Vampire Killer Slays in Kensington.”
The Goat dropped the Camels he just bought. “Motherfucker. I can’t believe this shit.”
“Hey, whatsa matter?” Angelo, the elderly Italian gentleman who owned the store, asked. “You no use that language around here.”
“This is crazy.”
“Oh, you talk about the killer who take the blood. These kids, they no respect anymore.”
The Goat felt sick. “I gotta go.” He made a hasty exit with the newspaper and lettuce, but left the cigarettes behind.
“Hey, you no pay for the paper.”
“I’ll pay you next time,” The Goat yelled.
As soon as he reached the apartment, he rushed to the bathroom and heaved.
Karen ran to him. “You okay, Patrick? I just finished cleaning the bathroom. Now I’m going to have to clean it again.”
He staggered to her. “Fuck the bathroom. Look at this shit.” He handed her the newspaper.
“Oh my God,” Karen said in a slow and exaggerated fashion. She sat down and flipped to the page with the article. Although the article didn’t spare any gory detail, it neglected to mention Johnny Gunns or Tina.
Karen hugged him. “This is the same guy who killed Johnny, ain’t it?”
“I think so. When I saw that picture on the cover, man, I got the chills. It took me back to that night when I saw that guy. What a scary son of a bitch.”
“I hope they catch this bastard.”
The Goat reached for a smoke, before realizing he left them at the store. “I don’t think they can do anything with him even if they found him. When he grabbed me by the throat, that was stronger than anything I’ve ever felt, and I’ve gone head to head with some pretty strong dudes.”
The Wiz dropped off Enzo and Tony at The Goat’s apartment. Tony knocked on the door and Karen Ferrano greeted them with a wide smile. Her body language changed when she saw Tony. Must be bad blood between them. It wasn’t his business, and he didn’t want to know.
“Mr. Salerno, it’s so wonderful for you to come over today.”
Enzo greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. Tony followed suit.
“Patrick told me so many great things about you. I’m honored to meet you. Come inside.”
“Thank you.” Enzo wiped his shoes on the doormat. The scents of a home-cooked Italian meal bombarded him, whetting his appetite. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble of cooking such an elaborate feast.”
Karen blushed. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all. I hope you enjoy it.”
Patrick emerged from the bedroom, his face drained of color. “Tony, Enzo, it’s good to see you.” He greeted each of them with a half hug. The Goat led them to the living room where they sat on the sofa. Karen brought over a tray of olives and smoked capicola.
They talked business until the food was ready. Karen ushered them to the small dining room table, which was barely large enough to hold the food.
“So, Pat, I owe you an apology.” Enzo broke a piece of fresh bread and dipped it into the marinara. “It appears there may be some credence to your story. When you first told me the other day, I lashed out at you.”
The Goat held up his hand. “Hey, you don’t have to apologize. Believe me, I know what I told you sounded absolutely fucking nuts. I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it myself.”
Enzo smiled. “I didn’t say I believe your story. All I’m saying is that under the circumstances, I can see how you drew those conclusions. At the very least, you were dealing with someone who is deluded into thinking he’s a vampire.”
“Not for nothin’, but he is a vampire.” The Goat handed Enzo the newspaper.
Enzo’s face tightened. “Who the fuck leaked this?” He sighed and handed the paper back to The Goat. “She’s not the only
one. There’s at least one other victim. And yes, I think it was done by the same person who killed Johnny Gunns. There are too many similarities. But is this guy a vampire? I don’t think so. I want an entire recount of what happened that night. I want it from the beginning, and don’t leave out a single detail.”
The Goat nodded. “Okay.” He told the same story as he told Enzo the first time. Karen clutched his arm while he spoke.
Enzo said, “So you’re telling me when you shot him, it had no effect. But then he heard the siren and disappeared. He didn’t just run real fast, he disappeared?”
“Yeah, vanished. Like here one second and gone the next.”
“So, he takes a bullet without any problem, but vanishes when he hears police sirens. Sounds like our boy doesn’t like the heat. Why?”
“The hell if I know,” The Goat replied.
“’Cause if he’s a vampire then he don’t want nobody knowin’ about him,” Karen said. “You know, they probably want secrecy.”
Enzo shrugged. “If this guy believes he’s a vampire, then I suppose it would be disadvantageous for him to have his identity known. This freak was seen at the Cat House the day before the murder, right, Tony?”
“Yeah. Sam, one of the dancers, said she saw him.”
The Goat frowned. “Get the fuck out of here. He gets a hard-on for Tina and wants to kill her. Johnny must have been at the wrong place at the wrong time. So what are we gonna do?”
Enzo wiped his mouth. “We’re going to find the son of a bitch and kill him.”
The Goat’s eyes opened wide. “Woh, Enzo, you know I respect the hell out of you, but I don’t think you realize what you’re dealing with here. I shot the motherfucker, and it didn’t phase him. If you think you’re going to kill him just like that, well you better have a plan B, because it ain’t gonna happen.”
Enzo smirked. “We’ll see about that.”
Chapter Twelve
As he waited for his wife to meet him for lunch, Mark stared at the photos. His investigation was going nowhere. It was like chasing sand in the wind. Why couldn’t he let go of the case?