Rising to darkness

by Lucia Guglielminetti

  "Hey, Dutchman, how are you doing?"

  It was then that I recognized him and felt my lips stretch into a smile. "Stefan! What a change! Are you all right?"

  "Very good, brother! See, I came back to visit you?"

  "I'm glad. Will you come hunting with me?"

  "I hope it doesn’t end up like the last time!"

  "I hope so too. So, tell me, are you a cadet now?"

  "Oh, yes! My special gifts have been greatly appreciated. I'm a raider now and, maybe, I'll be promoted soon. Thorvald says I have what it takes to become the best!"

  "Who's Thorvald?"

  "The Master of my Academy. He comes from the North. He looks a bit like you, but is less grumpy."

  "So cute... What about wars? Have you already taken part in them?"

  "Not yet, it's a relatively quiet period. Some fights have occurred, I killed my first lycan, but they weren't real wars. They say a very strong pack of lycans is establishing itself in England, led but a guy named Greylord. Rumor has it that he wants to cross the border and go down to France after having defeated all the English vampires. Our cousins up there are doing very badly."

  "Aren't alliances among Clans expected in order to fight a common enemy?"

  "I'm not into politics, but I think it's hard for the Masters to cope with interference from someone else in their affairs. They're a little bit hard-shell in their own position, so to speak. They prefer to be killed rather than share with others their own lawn. This, at least, is the impression they give."

  "And you want to fight for people like that?"

  "We - I mean vampires like me, Thorvald and others, the younger ones - would like to change things, form a broad alliance among all European Clans to annihilate the lycans wherever they are. Especially this guy, Greylord. Dreadful stories about him are being told..." He shivered and fell silent, his eyes lost in the distance.

  "What kind of stories?"

  "They say he likes to... impale his prisoners with silver poles and then expose them to the sun, watching them burn. The Stonehenge Plain, after his passage, was a forest of poles with a vampire in agony on each of them. In the morning, the brightness of the blazes could be seen for miles. Even their cries could be heard from far away."

  I saw myself back in the brothel cellar, when the fire and light had hit me, my skin melting like wax in the flames of a candle. I screamed too, convinced that I was going to meet the True Death. It was, then, my turn to shiver.

  "That's not so original. Draculians apply the same punishment and for a lot longer time."

  "Yes, but a vampire can be kept alive indefinitely, especially when it comes to older ones. I know of a leader who was dismembered after a week... Can you imagine? A week burning alive with a pole in your... Moreover, before the torture, they pulled his teeth out. Apparently, Greylord has a long necklace made of vampire fangs to which he continually adds new pieces. If I should ever fall into his hands, I hope that some of my companions would kill me before having to suffer such tortures. I'll certainly burn quickly, as the young ones do like me. That's the only consolation."

  "Really great conversation, my appetite has gone. I preferred you when you acted like an idiot."

  My thirst came back when we met a plump boy and I nominated him as my dinner that evening. Stefan kept himself away during the entire time of my feeding, his face turned away with a disgusted grimace. Eventually I stood up, cleaned my mouth, and looked irritated at him. "You want to become a great warrior and you can't stand the sight of blood! Do the people of the Clan know about your alternative preference?"

  "Of course, and they respect it, unlike someone I know. Raistan, I have come to invite you to join our Academy. I asked Thorvald for permission and he agrees. There's a vacancy since... well, never mind. What do you say? Will you?"

  "After what you have told me, I can’t wait to become the next candidate for impalement, why not? You're dreaming, my friend. Thanks, but I'm fine.”

  "I don't believe you. You told me you came to Paris to find a purpose, something to give meaning to your life. I don't think you have it. How are your neighbors?"

  "If you must know, the old lady living downstairs invited me for tea last night."

  "YAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA! Did you accept?"

  "Of course, I did. She offered me some cookies. I used to love cookies..." I said, thinking back to my first meeting with the Palmers. Stefan was delighted by my tale and couldn't stop laughing. At least nothing had changed.

  "What did you do then?" he asked with his face streaked with red tears.

  "I hid them…what do you think? She said I'm the best neighbor she's ever had so far, so quiet and discrete..."

  "But didn't she notice anything? I mean... you... you can't go unnoticed. Your eyes..."

  "She's blind, poor thing. But, that made everything easier. It was a pleasant evening."

  "What about the tea?"

  "Oh, I used it to water the flowers on the windowsill, but she was so happy... I like old women. They remind me of someone I used to know a long time ago."

  "Did you leave her... alive?"

  "Of course, who do you take me for? No vampire with a brain would kill his neighbors! From that point of view, our houses are the safest."

  "So, Raist, what is your answer? I must leave at dawn and I have to take your decision with me. I can assure you that it's a nice way of life, there's a lot of solidarity and esprit de corps. Meeting you had convinced me that all the vampires were like you, solitary and introverted. Many of them are, especially the elderly, but many others are… different."

  "You were going to say better."

  "Maybe. More simply, I just think they haven't completely forgotten their humanity like you try to do. I just don’t understand why..."

  "Because that's the way it should be! We're no longer human, that is the reality. They're just food, all the rest are unnecessary complications! You're deceiving yourself if you still believe that you are a person, a good one; that's why you insist on feeding from animals and you're horrified when you see me eat people. Well, I'm going to give you some bad news. You and I are the same, my dear cadet. No matter how hard you try, you can never be the same person as you were before. You're dead, that part of you is dead, and the sooner you accept that reality, the better you'll feel."

  "I'm doing fine, I know what I am and I have accepted it. But, why should I lose my ability to laugh, to cry, and to love other people together with the life I have to let go? You look like you're happy to be devoid of any sensitivity, as if this will make you happier!"

  "Of course it makes me happier. It prevents me from going crazy with remorse every time I'm compelled to do things like I did tonight in order to survive!"

  "You can't always wear an armor, Raist. Sometimes you have to take it off and let things touch you. Otherwise, you will not be able to feel even the good ones when they come to you. Come on, let's not fight..."

  "Don't judge me, my feelings, and my way of life, then. It's the only way I know how to live. See you, Stefan."

  I climbed the façade of a house and, in doing so, he lost track of me; then, I sat on the ridge of the roof and buried my head in my hands, irritated and unhappy. But, it wasn't so easy to leave him behind, though, because, after a few minutes, he reappeared and sat by my side in silence.

  I spoke, hoping my voice sounded stronger than I felt myself. "Do you think I like it? Do you think that it is something I am proud of, being dead inside? If I gave you that impression, please forgive me because that was not my intention. I've never been a very social person and I'm not used to living in the company of others since I've been almost always alone for most of my life; but, I have also laughed, cried, and wanted to love someone, you don’t have exclusive rights on those. I love someone even now and I feel something sometimes, but it scares me and I try to close it out, it’s easier. You're much braver than me. I admire you for how you let passion take over you. I cannot do it anymore, too much time has passed and I don't eve
n have the desire for it."

  "It's a shame. You're wasting the best part of you, that's what I think."

  "The best part of me died forty-five years ago, Stefan. Tell your Thornton..."

  "Thorvald."

  "Whatever, it's the same. Tell him I want to think about it some more."

  "Good! It’s not a 'no', then!"

  "I cannot hide the fact that there are some aspects of it I find appealing but, as I said, I'm totally intolerant of all forms of authority. Apart from mine, of course. If I was a General..."

  "I bet you will become one someday. Can I be your lieutenant, in that case?"

  "You'll be my court jester..."

  He gave me one of his pats on my back and the atmosphere got serene again.

  "Promise me you will try," he told me.

  "To do what?"

  "To take off your armor, sometimes."

  "And do you promise me that you'll try to wear it every now and then?"

  “I will. Deal?"

  "Deal. I must go, Stefan. Dawn is approaching."

  "I must go too. I hope to see you soon at the Academy."

  "I will think about it. I can’t promise you more than that."

  "Raistan?"

  "What?"

  "Be careful, man."

  "You too."

  He stood up, brushing the back of his jacket, smiled at me, and disappeared.

  If I had known how well-founded his caution was, I'd have followed him at that very moment, but fate had put me on the spot one more time before I took the right decision.

  PART III

  HERE AND NOW

  Paris, May 10

  I have to interrupt the narrative of my past and postpone it to when my present life will be peaceful again, assuming that this can happen.

  Maybe you'll be interested in this article, published in “Le Monde” this morning:

  FAR WEST IN THE ALMA

  "A hail of fire and bullets broke loose last night around nine o'clock in the Alma Tunnel, notorious for being the sight of the terrible car crash in 1997 that caused the death of Princess Diana Spencer.

  Three cars faced each other at violent speed in a gunshot duel, engaging many other unsuspecting cars transiting at that time in the underpass. One of them, a black Chrysler Crossfire, crashed against one of the concrete pillars sustaining the tunnel while a second car, a metal grey BMW with an English license plate, capsized and caught fire, trapping inside four men who horribly died in the flames. The third car, another BMW identical to the first one, got away after a subsequent exchange of fire with the driver of the Chrysler. Many people witnessed with terror the scene, but no other victims have been reported. The man driving the Crossfire, seriously injured, fled after stealing a car, pulling out its rightful owner from the window.

  Reports pgs. 2-3

  I think you know who was the driver of the Crossfire, right? However, the best is yet to come: one of the witnesses, a woman who was at the scene paralyzed by terror, was invited to a TV show to recount her experience. Do you want to know what she said? Then read some extracts of her statements, in particular, the part concerning what happened after my car and I had tried to become one with the concrete pillar.

  "Sonia, after the chain accident, something incredible happened: can you tell us about it?"

  "Of course, Alain. It was terrible. After the Chrysler crashed, my first thought was to come to the aid of its occupants, even though I was certain not to find anyone alive. I had to stop, though, because the survivors of the BMW got out of the car and headed towards the Crossfire, the driver's side, and started to shoot again. There were four, all dressed in black, but I couldn't see their faces due to the smoke invading the tunnel. I had crouched on the ground with my hands over my ears because the noise was really deafening. When the gunshots ceded and I dared to raise my head, I saw the four men racing back to their car.”

  "Oh, it must have been scary! And then? Can you tell us what happened after?"

  "The Chrysler was completely devastated. Although I knew there was nothing I could do to help the driver, I came towards it along with some other people around. And then I saw his body..."

  "Can you describe it to us? Are you in the mood?"

  The woman drinks some water, then nods gravely.

  "He was... I can assure you, I've never seen someone so dead in all my life. I'm a doctor, I mean, nobody reduced in that condition could still be alive. In the collision, he was nearly thrown out of the car. The twisted steel sheets had imprisoned his legs and his momentum was stopped half way, leaving him sprawled over what was left of a steering wheel, his arms stretched forward. He was still holding his gun in one hand. I don't want to go into the gruesome details, but there was not an inch of his body that was spared by the bullets. His back. His shoulders. His... head. His head and his face were full of holes and glass splinters. He was turned to the left so I could see him well, I assure you. The people with me saw him too. His eyes were open, staring, and filled with blood devoid of expression. He was dead; I'm absolutely sure about it."

  "Yet, Mrs. Sonia witnessed something even more disturbing".

  Frantic nods from the woman whose eyes were a bit wide, like they were on that day.

  "I know it will sound absolutely crazy, but I swear it's true. Suddenly the man quivered, like some sort of a convulsion, and he... focused on me, as if... as if... he had just turned back on, I can't explain it any better than that. I think I screamed in fear; the other people jumped back too, terrorized. He was moving. He had managed to sit up and didn't scream, didn't even moan; the only thing he did was methodically pull out the pieces of glass from his forehead and cheeks, one by one, with dreamlike slowness, staring straight ahead as if we weren't even there. Then, he turned to us at a certain point. I had never been so eager to run away, believe me. In a completely ordinary tone, he asked us whether he still had some pieces of glass on his face.

  His face was ravaged by bullets and he was concerned about glass, you know. I could see every hole, he had at least five or six just on his forehead; but, strangely, just a thin stream of blood trickled out which seemed to diminish with each passing minute.

  "Sir, you should not move, the ambulance is coming...,” somebody beside me muttered.

  "Then I must hurry," he said.

  The steering column was bent downward, imprisoning his legs along with the wreckage of the front part of the car. He grabbed it with his hands and ripped it away, then he bent down and we started to hear creaking and those sounds iron makes when somebody bends it. He had a... a spike metal piercing his thigh and when he got out of the car, he ripped it away with a grimace but without emitting any sound. For, you see, he got out of the car alone. He hoisted himself out of what was left of the window and even asked us permission, as if we were in the line at the supermarket!

  He kept one arm pressed against his chest and dragged his wounded leg, but he walked and looked around as if he was searching for something. He, then, went back into the interior of the Crossfire and extracted something from the window, a bag, like those used to transport laptops. As he bent, I saw something white protruding from his shoulder and I realized his collarbone was broken and had perforated his skin. He seemed not to have even noticed. I was in shock, it seemed unforgivable not to let him know about it, don't ask me why, so I said, "Sir, you've something protruding from your shoulder," in the same tone you use to alert someone that his handkerchief has just fallen, you know? I had to be out of my mind, that's for sure. Meanwhile, you could hear the sirens of the fire brigade and ambulances getting closer and closer and this seemed to upset him. He looked absently at the spot I was pointing to him, put down his bag, took a long breath, then put his hand on the protruding bone, closed his eyes, and pressed firmly down. The bone went back in place inside his flesh and... I know it's crazy, but the wound started to heal immediately. He tilted his head from one side to the other and I heard a horrendous pop; after that, he smiled at me and thanked me in a cheerful vo
ice before taking leave. Only after did I realize that he was looking for a car to escape. When he found one, he pulled the owner out of the window, lifting him with one hand and letting him fall to the ground, then opened the door and got in. I don't know what kind of car it was, I just remember that it was metallic blue. He left, flooring it, and winked at us as he passed us by, I will never forget it. And, he was gone."

  "Ladies and gentlemen, what our Sonia is giving us is an exceptional testimony! But, what did this mysterious character look like? Can you describe him?"

  "He was very tall, with a powerful physique; his hair was very long, blond, almost white, but it was hard to see him with all those bullets and blood. His eyes seemed to be blue but I can’t bet on it because, as I said, they were full of blood too."

  “Mrs. Sonia, maybe you have formed your personal opinion of this person. Do you want to share it with us?"

  "Do you know the Blade Runner replicants, or Terminator? He must be something like them transposed into reality, crazy as it may seem. No human being could come out alive from such an experience. No one can ever change my mind."

  Other TVs, including foreign ones, picked up the interview. The media went crazy. I'm in trouble, dear reader.

  I'm on a plane now heading to England. I must check that everything's all right with the Andrews. I have a bad feeling about this, but maybe I better take a step back and explain how I spent the last twenty-four hours, starting from when I left my apartment to meet Sophie.

  Shocked because for 300 years I've never set foot on Bateau Mouches, the girl had managed to take me for a ride. You know how I feel about anything that is not anchored to the ground, but I didn’t want to pass for a coward and wanted to please her. For us, as you know, drowning is no longer an authentic danger.