Offer books to readers everywhere – simply and on your own terms.
Offer books to readers everywhere – simply and on your own terms.
Like most novels, this one starts with a set of characters and relationships and those change over time leading to a resolution at the end. This from near the end of Chapter 4, about a quarter of the way through.
It takes place in the basement of a house in Brooklyn and is the pre-interview of Danny the Vampire for a a daytime talk show: dedicated to the weird and supernatural.
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Missus Mickiewicz opens the cellar door. The door opens smoothly without the expected extended creak. Stairs descend into the gloom. Missus Mickiewicz flips a light switch to her left, an unseen light illuminates the basement stairs, barely. She yells down, “Danny! You have company. They’re from television.”
She turns away. Joel stops her with a gentle hand to the shoulder. “You’re not coming down with us?”
“Oh lordy no. That place gives me the willies. But you’ll be fine, I’m sure.” Missus Mickiewicz pats the back of Joel’s hand and walks back to the living room. Colleen moves to follow.
“Before you say anything,” whispers Joel, “I need to know he is not just a whack-a-doodle playing dress up. You’re coming with.”
She reluctantly follows Joel down the stairs. She presses against his shoulder. The stairs are raw, unfinished wood, but of recent-ish construction. The ceiling is a mere six feet, not counting where beams and pipes intrude, forcing Joel to walk stooped over. The foundation walls are bare stone and the floor is compacted dirt. The house been built on top of something far older. A single forty-watt bulb provides all the illumination. It is dependent from the electrical cord stapled to the joists above. The shadows move and shift as the bulb slowly sways.
“Well… nothing creepy about this.” Colleen remarks, grimly.
“Good eevenning.” The voice comes from behind. It is thick and Slavic. They turn; a gaunt figure emerges from the shadows.
“We didn’t hear you. How did you manage to move in such a furtive and stealthy manner?”
“I am vearing… sneakers.” The Vampire theatrically glides over to Colleen and takes her hand. “My dear, you are… quite…charh… ming.”
“Nope.” Colleen yanks back her hand. “No. Not going to do it. I’m gone.”
“You promised.” Joel protests.
“Sure, whatever… okay… Joel, he’s not faking. It’s like there’s nothing where he’s standing, and it’s freaking me out, more than a little. All the… the heck with it. I’m going up stairs and talk with the crazy lady. Good luck.” Halfway up the stairs she stops and turns back. “Oh… and you, vampire? I’ve dialed the nine, the one, and the other one. All I’ve got to do is press the green send button. Other than that? Joel, you’re on your own.”
“Sha zeeems… nice.” The vampire gestures for Joel to sit at the fold out card table. “Forr, geeve me. I ham uhnused to company.”
“Should I be worried?” Joel glances at the flimsy table. The vampire arches an eyebrow. The vampire leans back into the folding chair and smiles exposing extravagant canines.
“I’m just messing with you man. Sit. Please, call me Danny.”
“We’re cool? Just like that?”
“Just like that. This is my home, my refuge. Even animals know better than to poop in their own nest.”
“Nice paraphrase.” As Joel’s eyes continue to adjust, he begins to make out details of the black outfit. dark jeans and a t-shirt, faded red over black.
“Lagartija Nick? Well, you certainly dressed for the occasion.”
“I just like the band. Bought it new, of course it’s vintage, now.”
“Groovy.” Joel reaches into his suit pocket and carefully pulls out his smart phone. “I was going to record this. Is that alright?”
“Go ahead. Just one thing. Turn off the GPS. I don’t want any metadata associated with the recording.” Joel stares blankly. Danny sighs, “Swipe left on your Home screen, then App Library, Location Services, Share My Location and just switch it off.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve been around for a long time Joel, but I like to stay current.”
Joel props up his phone against the photo bag. “Interview with the vampire, August twenty-six, Joel Lunden with Daniel, no last name given. We are speaking from the vampire’s den, below ground in an unspecified borough of New York City.”
“No last name, below ground, unspecified borough, thank you for that, Sanguivoriphobia is one of the last socially acceptable prejudices. Now, I understand you have questions.”
“First question, you say you’ve been around for a long time. When did you become a vampire?”
“February twenty-third, nineteen sixty-two. I was turned by a lady vampire but, she never came back for me. I don’t know why. Eventually I woke up, alone, sans clue, no notion of what to do next. I’ve been figuring out vampiring from books, the movies… everything ever since.”
“Any particular role models?”
“Lord Ruthven? Nearly every cool vampire is modeled on the original. You know, charming and attractive creatures, who are irresistible to their intended prey. One thing I never got, they all seem weirdly attracted to a specific human woman, and go on to obsessively charm and seduce her, even at great personal peril. I think it’s more of plot device than a real thing, although I can see how it could happen. Vampires are prone to obsessive compulsive behavior, but the movies want to make it something dramatic, reincarnation or whatever. Personally? Never experienced it.”
Joel laughs, “Any other pet peeves?”
“From the movies? Sure. Why are all vampires rich? They’re always lords, counts, or just rich for some unspecified reason. There’s also the way they dress. Vampires don’t wear tuxedos and opera capes and they’re not shiny in the sun. The last thing you want is to attract attention, it’s ludicrous. It would be like a lion in the veldt painting itself purple and wearing bells. If anything, a vampire is drab and ordinary, totally unremarkable, and easily forgotten.
“You deliberately dress and live inconspicuously to stalk your prey more efficiently, like spots on a cheetah…”
“Let me stop you there, Joel.” The vampire rakes his long nails through his hair. “Stalk… and prey… those are loaded words, don’t you think? Pouncing on someone without their verbal consent? Last time I looked, under New York penal law that is both a crime and a tort and, therefore, can result in criminal prosecution, civil liability, or both. If that person happens to pass away, well there is not statute of limitations on that, even if it happened sixty years ago.”
“Sixty years, wow… hadn’t considered that,” Joel acknowledges the point and moves on. There are times when getting a subject agitated is a clever idea. This wasn’t one of those times. “Allow me to rephrase then, being inconspicuous is a protective measure you take. Which is… why… you chose to dress the way you do.”
“Yes. You don’t want to be noticed. Not by the cops and not by the groupies, it is not a recipe for longevity. I do what I can to limit my needs for the vital circulating fluid in the body to a level that can be satisfied through voluntary relations. Granted, mostly these are transactional in nature.”
“You are talking about hookers?”
“They prefer to be called sex workers, but yes. They are paid professionals used to working with atypical personal requests and respecting anonymity. It’s not romantic but it is less risky. There is also the possibility of infection, my condition is after all a sort of disease. With a controlled environment, everyone feels safer.”
“You said something about groupies?”
“Well, while a transactional interaction remains the preferred solution, it’s not always possible. For example, back in the seventies… the rental house water heater went out, and on a federal holiday at that. Mom and Dad had died by then, and the repair fell on me. The tenants had hot water, but at no little cost. Money was beyond tight and I had a need. What to do? Poshed up a bit and got out. I was so hungry; skin was a bit paler and tighter than it is now. My canines were more prominent. In short, I looked the part even more than usual. Found a place. Mostly clamato swilling posers and role-playing perverts, but enough… let’s just call them genuine enthusiasts. I thought I could grab a meal with one of them. But, on this occasion, good grief, did the meal ever grab back?
There was a girl, Diana, who “dug” my dark aura. She saw me for what I was, and she asked me to…you know. She wanted the full treatment, and I gave it to her the way it had been done to me those many years earlier, bending her over, the whole Lugosi schtick. It seemed so cliché, but it was rapturous. I didn’t know why I’d been avoiding it. Besides, it was just the one time… what could be the harm? Next thing I know, I’ve got myself a stalker. Eventually, I gave in. Maybe because the experience had been so deeply satisfying, maybe I was just tired of saying no. More likely because I was stupid. I could see the changes in her, what she was becoming. I knew that when the third time came around, I would have to make the hard choice. That’s why I’m careful with groupies. I do not want to have to go through that again.”
“But that was years ago. Surely you can’t…” The vampire’s eyes flash up and lock with his. Joel swallows hard, right, no statute of limitations.
“Apologies, I didn’t mean to suggest anything. Still, why not just turn her into a vampire? You must admit, immortality is a bit of perk.”
“Joel… may I call you Joel? There is so much wrong with that.” The vampire buries his face in his right hand.” For starters, vampires aren’t immortal, we just play by different rules. I would guess the median life expectancy for a newly turned vampire is something like a month, and that’s with guidance. Poor Lucy in Bram Stoker’s book doesn’t make it a week, and she had a hell of a mentor to guide her. The ancient vampire, centuries old, is a statistical improbability, like being struck by lightning. It never happens, except when it does. I was lucky, I had supportive parents. They gave me a place to lay. My dad went to the library and brought me books. I found ways to minimize my craving for human blood, limit my exposure, but it never goes away completely. There’s always the chance; my life is a house of cards.”
“Have you thought about robbing blood banks?”
“Like in a comedy? No. That won’t work. They all have Cachelator, it’s an anticoagulant which allows storage for a protracted period of time. it would be like you trying to get drunk with paint thinner.”
“Next question, how often do you need to drink the blood of an innocent?”
“Pish… innocent. Human blood is human blood. It would be great if I could only go after felons or other villains. Maybe be some sort of dark avenger but I don’t have some special insight into who the bad guys are and, frankly, waiting around on the oft chance that someone will do something bad, in a private enough way that I can safely administer rough justice is not all that efficient. I just need… need to eat, like any of God’s creatures.”
“God’s creatures?”
“We’re all God’s creatures Joel. I learned that in CCD as a child. Seems he just likes some more than others.”
