"Shibeen, get out!" I shouted, forgetting etiquette and hierarchies, swearing like crazy in my native language. She stared at me with a shocked expression, looked daggers at the newcomer, and left the room, testing once again the door hinges. Isabelle was looking at me with anger and pain, one hand on her bleeding lip on which the wound was already healing. I walked towards her at full speed and she screamed, shielding her face for fear that I would beat her again. All my anger melted away in the face of this gesture so human, a sign of a fear that not even death had managed to dispel and was replaced by shame.
"Uhm...I'm sorry I hit you. It won't happen again. But you... you can't behave like that, you have no idea of the risk you took!"
"Who's that woman? Who is she to you? This is not your house, why aren't we there, just you and me?"
Trying to stem the flow of the flooding river, I forced her to wear a nightgown and narrated the events that had brought me back to Shibeen's and the nature of my relationship with her. I'd have liked them to become friends, as indeed it happened, and, above all, not to be obliged to intervene constantly in their vail attempts to rip each other’s head off.
"Do you love her?" she asked, nailing me down with her look.
"You must not concern yourself with the feelings that bind me to my maker, Isabelle. You'll soon learn vampires don't like to talk about their feelings. I certainly don't like it. I'll be by your side for all the time you need to learn to proceed alone in your new world, and then it will be up to you to decide what to do. If you want to stay, we can talk about it; otherwise, you will be free to leave, but we'll always remain connected. This is something that'll never change. I'll always know if you're in danger and you'll always know the same about me, even if we were a thousand miles away from each other. Now dress yourself, you must feed and I must show you how it’s done. Promise me that you will obey my orders and not to wander off alone; and, for god's sake, stop drinking before your victim dies, otherwise you will regret it. Believe me, I know something about that.
I could sense a slew of questions seething in her mind, but she decided to follow my orders without a murmur. I wasn’t able to endure anything else that night, not to mention of the fact that the prospect of nursing a newborn vampire filled me with a feeling close to horror. I just wanted a period of absolute tranquility after what I've had been through, but fate had decided otherwise.
We went out to hunt in the now deserted streets and I had to endure her frequent stops to observe this or that detail, obviously irresistible to her. I was lenient for I was young enough to remember how astonishing everything had been to me; but, during that wearing night, I often wondered how Shibeen had managed not to kill me, increasing in me the respect and consideration for my maker. Finally, we found a young man who had lingered too long at the entrance of a tavern. I pointed him out to Isa, taught her to lie in wait and to make sure there was nobody around who could see her attack, as well as to focus on the voices and smells in the air which were very useful to draw information about her forthcoming victim or the possible arrival of intruders. When I was sure that she assimilated all this information, I gave her the go-ahead and hid in a spot where I could follow the entire scene, ready to intervene if something went wrong or if she dawdled too much on her prey.
"Don't forget to listen to his heartbeat and stop as soon as you can no longer hear it."
She nodded, her eyes focused on the boy and her muscles tensed in the desire to attack. I had expected a brutal debut, everything about her posture made me believe it; instead, she adopted a tactic that surprised and amused me a lot. She emerged from the alley where we had been lying in wait pretending to cry with a handkerchief over her mouth. "Help! Help! Sir, can you help me? Please, they're chasing me..."
The young man turned and walked towards her like a puppy to the food bowl, eager to prove his generosity. "What's wrong, miss? Has someone been bothering you?" He asked, approaching and putting his arms around her shoulders. She had her face buried in the handkerchief, preventing him from noticing the strangeness of her eyes; I could feel waves of desire spreading from him towards Isabelle. The girl's beauty was overwhelming. All humans - and many vampires too, as I was soon proven - were attracted to her in an irresistible and inexplicable way. Meanwhile, the cruel charade continued. "There! In the alley! A horrible man tried to... to... Oh my God, I'm so upset, I beg you, please, help me!"
I saw the young man straighten his shoulders and move briskly towards me while I was hidden behind a pile of garbage. It was impossible for him to spot me as I was surrounded by darkness and covered by my cloak, hood included, and yet I felt a bit of apprehension with the umpteenth bizarre development of the situation. That was when Isabelle attacked him from behind, knocking him to the ground and jumping on top of him. He screamed with surprise, but she immediately suffocated his cries by putting her hand on his mouth. The young man's eyes, full of fear and shock, spotted my presence just before succumbing to death. My wave of goodbye was the last thing he saw on this earth.
Obedient to my teachings, Isabelle left his body in the precise moment when his heart stopped beating, then she stood up and went by my side, her eyes full of expectation. I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and wiped her mouth smeared with blood. "Not bad for a newbie, not bad at all."
Her eyes sparkled and her smile, apart from the canines, could dazzle dozens of adoring men with just a single glance. "Not bad? I was … great! I've always wanted to act! Now what? What are we going to do? Are we going to have some fun? Why don't we go dancing? God, I feel so good... Why are you looking at me like that?"
At the mere mention of dancing and human entertainment, my face had shriveled in horror. I took her by her wrist and dragged her behind me before she decided to leave like a rocket and break into a dance hall or who knows where, causing panic and drawing attention to us. I spent the whole time on the way home attempting to explain to her that things were a little bit different on that aspect, but the concept didn't seem to want to get in her head. In fact, when she was free to live her life the way she wanted to, she always hung out at public places, nightclubs, or places like Moulin Rouge, winning an incredible run of success in love affairs and an equally long list of victims, although I'm sure most of them died with a smile on their faces. When she was alive, Isabelle had been a master in the art of love; but, as a vampire, her gifts reached unattainable peaks for any human being. It seemed that she was born for it... and to kill.
Once we got in my room, at four o'clock in the morning and with dawn approaching, fatigue seemed to get the better of her and made her a little bit less frenzy. The temptation, then, to leave her in some alley as far as possible from there became a little bit less pressing.
"Thanks for saving me, Raistan. I'm truly grateful, even if I called you a bore, an old man, and all the other unmentionable things..."
"You're welcome. There's still one issue that has to be resolved: the place where you will sleep. Most of us choose coffins or trunks like the one I use, but few, very few indeed, like Shibeen can't bear to be closed for several hours inside a container and continue to use a bed. Obviously, they have to make sure that the blinds of their room are perfectly sealed even though they are more exposed to human assaults, but still they prefer this solution. What do you think you'd prefer?"
She seemed to think very carefully about this dilemma, then declared that she would like to sleep where I did and that any place was fine.
"Please, don't leave me alone on my first night, better yet, my first day... Tomorrow you can get a coffin just for me but, please, for now, stay with me, Raisty, don't leave me alone in that ugly box..."
She had undressed and was naked once again, very well aware of the effect the sight of her nude had on my concentration. Later on, the pleasure of going around the house stark-naked, wreaking havoc among the servants and Shibeen's brothers who spent half their time in the corridors hoping to bump into her, became one of her dominant characteristics and another thing th
at drove Shibeen mad. Transforming into a vampire had unleashed the wildest side of her personality. She abhorred all social conventions and rules of civil cohabitation. Even among vampires, rules exist and, in some ways, are even more rigid than those among humans. For instance, we give great importance to seniority and to the respect of other vampires’ property, be it material goods or people.
Isabelle couldn't care less about all this. She respected me as an individual, but not by virtue of the fact that I was her maker. Even when her relationship with Shibeen got better - she knew how to be very kind and affectionate and she adored her brothers - she never treated her with particular deference, given Shibeen's age; rather, she always considered herself equal to her and, due to her spontaneity and absolute frankness, managed to win her affection regardless. Besides, my beautiful Irishwoman had finally found someone to fight with in epic female quarrels from which her brothers and I kept strictly away.
I opened my trunk lid and encouraged her to get inside with a gesture of my hand. She hopped for joy and got in, full of expectations, lying down and testing the thin mattress covering the bottom. I greeted her with a grin and let the lid fall down, deaf to her protests. "This is for you calling me Raisty. Goodnight, Isabelle."
From the inside of the chest came the invitation to go and do something very specific, then all was quiet. I imagine the feeling I felt was similar to the relief of a father who had finally put his little child to bed and foretasted some hours of peace. However, I still had something to do. I hadn't felt this exhausted for months.
I left my room and went to Shibeen's. The door was locked. Bad sign.
"Mijn kind, open please, it's me," I said, gently knocking. Look what a poor vampire has been reduced to do in order to find a place to lay down his weary limbs for the upcoming day...
"Go away! I'm tired, I don't feel like seeing you."
Cold waves coming through the locked door made the corridor freezing. I leaned my forehead against the wood and sighed, trying to remain calm. Shibeen's youngest brother, Aoidh, peeped from his bedroom door and asked whether I needed some help. I must say that my affections for him grew tremendously right then. I asked him for hospitality in his room and spent the day in his travel coffin; it was better than nothing, even if I had to spend all those hours without stretching my legs, given the difference in stature between us.
What about the following period, struggling with those two witches contending for my attentions and my favors? Luckily, Isabelle soon realized I wasn't the only male vampire in the house and took comfort with each of the brothers in turns. Shibeen, seeing her family so happy and satisfied and finding me much more available than in the past few days, returned to being even more forgiving and peaceful. Family peace had been restored and I could relax, going back to devote myself to my favorite hobbies like reading and painting.
By the end of that year, 1716, Isabelle disclosed to us her intention to take a long journey, something she had always wanted to do. She had planned everything in detail and would use the money Madame Lescaut left her as...as compensation, let’s just call it that.
The night before she left was devoted to saying goodbyes in her own particular way, with generosity and so as not to displease anyone. In truth, it seemed that she never got enough of any of us. When my turn came, what can I say? She had saved the best for last. Later she held me for a long time, lying beside me in silence. I sensed her sadness for it was mine as well. Her presence had brought a breath of fresh air in our weird ménage and it would be hard to renounce it for any of us.
"Do you think I shouldn't go?" she asked me abruptly when I was starting to think she was sleeping.
"No I don't. It will be bad for everyone, even for Shibeen, but I think you must leave and live your own life, your own experiences. And then, you can always come back, any time, can't you?
"What about you? What are you going to do now?"
"I think I'll go back home, in Montmartre, and I know Shibeen wants to go back to London sooner or later. We'll split for a while, then who knows. I came to Paris to find a purpose, something that gives meaning to my life, but I have found nothing but trouble so far. Maybe I'll take a journey too, I don’t know..."
"Why don't you come with me? It would be wonderful..."
"No, Isabelle, you have to find your own way and you must do it alone. I will always be here for you, you know that. If you need me, if you find yourself in danger, just call for me and I will sense you.
"Promise?"
"Of course. That's what being a maker means. Look at Shibeen and me. Without her I'd have died twice... you know the story."
"I'll miss you. I'll miss you all; it was the best time of my life. Funny that I had to die to live it..."
"Indeed. I'll miss you too... I think."
She bit my neck, savoring me a bit more as we waited for dawn together. Many years would pass before it happened again, but we made sure to enjoy it.
Now, dear reader, I have to take a leap thirty years to about 1750, when a new era of my long life started. You'd have died of boredom if I had written about every single year that I passed, filling a thousand pages of insignificant details, for life is full of them, especially the one of a vampire who spends much of his days alone.
Be so kind as to follow me a bit further in time. Open your mind and eyes, focus and see the road I'm walking. It's dark, it's about eleven o’clock on a cold winter’s night and the place is still Paris. The road is narrow, lined by buildings, dimly lit, shabby, and foul smelling. I'm hunting, but I’m not in a particular hurry to find a victim. I had just been inside a tavern listening to people's discussion and I'm thinking that my coat had absorbed the stench of the place when I hear a muffled cry followed by a powerful and unmistakable roar. A werewolf has just come into action, somewhere nearby, just a few yards from me. I start to run and to think of the taste of his blood on my lips. Run with me, dear reader, if you can. I'm going to take you to meet Stefan, the best friend I have ever had.
17 - STEFAN
As I was telling you, I ran at my maximum speed to intercept the source of so much noise. With no doubt, a werewolf was just attacking some poor wretch. I could combine business with pleasure: eliminate such an unpleasant life form and get dinner in one shot. But, I couldn’t predict that the victim chosen by my drooling opponent was a member of my own race, probably in his twenties and in obvious difficulty. Neither of them heard me coming. The lycan had turned his back to me and was trying to bite the vampire on the ground beneath him. I grabbed the attacker’s head with both hands and twisted it. A moment later, the beast was lying at my feet with his neck broken as the vampire tried to get it off of him, cursing, with his eyes fixed on me and a smile on his face. I returned a blank expression at him, brushed my coat with my hand, and turned to leave. Dinner had to wait a little longer.
Maybe you're wondering why I didn't stop to talk to the stranger, as it was rare for me to meet another vampire. In those last forty years, he was perhaps the third I had met. It's hard to explain, but everything about the guy was shouting "trouble" in big red letters. To begin with, nobody would get up from the ground after being almost mauled by a werewolf with such a cheerful look, as if the mishap had occurred to someone else; from the way he looked at me, it was clear that he probably had never met someone else like him either and that could mean just an avalanche of questions and pointless discussions, something I could definitely do without. Besides, he was dirty and ragged even without the contribution of the lycan and this is very unusual for a vampire. Generally, we care about the way we look. Too many questions, too many wild cards. Better to steer clear away.
As I had feared, though, the little vampire didn't seem to have the same idea. In a moment he had joined me and was trying to keep up with my pace, staring at me like a child in front of a candy store.
"Hey, thanks man, I was really in trouble, I don't know what I would have done without you. My name's Stefan, and you?"
I stopped and sta
red at him in silence; his smile, if possible, widened. He was short, no more than five-foot seven, slender, with dark elongated eyes burning with joy, an upturned nose, and long dark, dirty, ruffled hair. A peculiar feature of his were his lips, red, almost feminine. If it wasn't for his extreme pallor and for his fangs, he could have been mistaken for a normal human boy, one of many roaming the streets at that time. He wore a ripped shirt, once white maybe, a pair of shapeless trousers held by a rope and was barefoot, which didn’t seem to bother him. Not even his eyes revealed his true nature: the strange pupil got lost in the black iris. My sharp vision could catch a reddish hint in them, but no human being could have ever spotted something odd. All in all, very lucky.
“What makes you think I'm eager to get to know you? Buzz off."
A puzzled expression crossed his face, but just for a moment: he recovered quickly and started to hop by my side. He had a deep scratch on his right shoulder, but he didn't seem to have noticed. Strange, given the pain provoked by wounds caused by the lycans. My curiosity grew another inch, but I was determined not to yield. I was quite happy with my life and didn't need a sort of fanged imp to come and shake it up. And, I was sure it would have happened if I had allowed him to do so.
Another stop, another icy look, another smile. "Are you deaf or what? I told you to go, don't make me repeat it for the third time. I could decide to finish the job the lycan had started."
His laugh caught me off-guard. It was loud, deafening, a sort of "YA-HAHAAHAHHAHA" erupting from his throat like lava from a volcano, impossible to stifle and, as I discovered thereafter hanging out with him, was likely to break out in the most unpredicted situations due to the most absurd reasons. Hearing such a sound coming from a vampire's throat perplexed me too.
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