“Unlike some of your other organs, your heart is still necessary to keep blood flowing through your body.” Lysander let go of me. “For now, while your body is in transition, it will beat in an accelerated rhythm, but it will eventually slow itself to a more normal pace.”
I was speechless. My mind raced, recalling books and movies, everything I knew about vampire mythology. Bats, stakes, and garlic immediately popped into my mind.
“I must mention that your generation’s ideas of vampires are a bit off.” Lysander spoke with a hint of amusement in his voice. “Many of the popular books and movies about our kind are no more real than children’s fairytales.”
Is he reading my mind? I wondered how he seemed to say just the right thing as I was thinking it. “So, none of the stories are true?”
“Most of the new stories you are probably familiar with are filled with complete nonsense.”
“What about the old ones, like Dracula?”
Lysander sighed. His shoulders slumped. “Dracula is not what I would consider an old story, but yes, a few are based on some truth, however little it may be. There is much that is added to make us seem easier to deal with.” His lip curled into a crooked grin. “Mortals like to think they can hurt us. It helps them sleep at night.”
“So, you’re not afraid of crosses, then?”
Lysander shook his head. “Crosses and other holy relics are nothing more than symbols and decorations. I hardly see why an ornamental cross would stop me from doing anything. Furthermore, I think it’s time for the Christians to come up with a better symbol. One that is a little less… gloomy.”
I chuckled. “Okay, what about garlic?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “What about it?”
“Isn’t garlic bad for vampires?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Why would it be? We don’t eat, so how would it harm us?”
I nodded. “Okay… umm… stakes?”
His head tilted to the side as the corner of his lip lifted. “You can try to stab me with a piece of wood, but I doubt it will do much more than aggravate me. We heal quite fast. Perhaps a blade would work better.”
I shuddered, seeing his teeth again as he spoke. Is that how I look now?
“So, knives and swords are bad?”
“Yes. It is much harder to regenerate a severed limb. And if we are separated from our heads, it would be safe to say we would cease to exist.”
I smiled, noting the sarcasm in Lysander’s voice. I could tell he’d had this conversation before. He seemed to be enjoying my round of silly questions.
“Holy water?” I blurted out.
Lysander let out a hearty laugh. “No, you won’t melt into a pile of goo. You can throw most of that nonsense out of the window, Alyssa.”
I giggled, realizing how silly it sounded: melting into a pile of goo after being splashed with water. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
“You see, we immortals are not as ridiculous as Hollywood likes to portray us. Though one thing is true... we do survive off the blood of the living.”
The smile faded from my face. Blood; of course. That was the one true thing in all the myths.
Lysander sat quietly as if waiting for me to do or say something. After a moment of silence, the casual smile disappeared from his lips.
He had to know this revelation would be a shock to me, but I couldn’t read his now expressionless face. The silence in the room quickly turned awkward. I guessed that he was waiting for me to respond or acknowledge my understanding or acceptance of what he’d just told me.
But how do you respond to someone who tells you that you will now survive on blood? For that matter, how the hell was I going to survive on blood?
Am I going to have to bite someone? No! There’s just no way I can do that.
I sat there half dazed. As the thought of blood entered my mind, my stomach ached. Pangs of hunger nagged at me. I tried my best to ignore them. According to Lysander, hunger now meant blood; and if that was the case, I didn’t want any.
“How, why... ” I didn’t have the ability at that moment to articulate all the thoughts swimming through my head. Words spilled out of their own accord, faster than I could form sentences. “I just… blood… no.”
“It’s a lot to take in, especially since you were thrown into this,” Lysander said in his soothing, velvety voice. “It is not a common practice to turn someone who is completely oblivious to our kind. Please understand, I had to do this. You would have died if I hadn’t turned you.”
How am I going to drink someone’s blood? I can’t do it. No! I won’t do it. That’s disgusting.
Shock from this revelation tied my tongue.
“We can go into more detail about all of this after you have had a little time to accept it. There is more to know.”
More? There’s more? What else, do I have to eat brains, too? I don’t think I can handle any more.
I sat, wringing my hands as I tried to ignore the ache building in my stomach. Was it hunger? Thirst, perhaps?
Lysander’s brow furrowed as he watched me. I wondered if he understood what I was thinking or how I was feeling.
“Immortality, you might be happy to know,” he said softly, “does have a few pleasant benefits. You should already notice that your wounds are healing quite nicely. By tomorrow evening you will have completely healed, leaving almost no trace of tonight’s… unfortunate events.”
I took a deep breath, attempting to calm my nerves, and then nodded at Lysander, thankful for the change in subject. I didn’t want to hear anything more about blood.
“As you get stronger, your body will regenerate itself faster.”
I gave him a half-hearted smile.
“Also, you will no longer age. Your body is now essentially frozen in time. The way you look today is the way you will continue to look forever.”
That, I had to admit, was a pleasant revelation; to be twenty-five forever, to never have to worry about wrinkles or gray hairs. I could enjoy the idea that I would stay young forever. At least there were some perks to this.
Lysander returned my smile.
“However,” he continued, almost cautiously, “the transformation causes you to lose the natural pigment in your skin. Without the melanin to protect you from ultraviolet light, you will sunburn … almost instantly.”
I looked down at my hands. They did seem to be lighter. Blue veins showed more prominently under my pale skin.
“The same goes for your eyes. They too, are also going to be extremely sensitive to light. Even with sunglasses, the sun’s light will be quite blinding.”
Great, another truth to the old myths; real vampires aren’t allowed out in the daylight. It saddened me to think I would never be able to go outside during the day again. I had not even been given a proper chance to say goodbye to sunlight.
Guess that means tanning booths are out, too.
I wondered how hard it would be to live a nocturnal life. It seemed that now I would have no choice.
Lost in my depressed thoughts, I was vaguely aware that Lysander was still talking. “We are creatures of the night, so to speak, and you will get used to this lifestyle soon enough.”
His mention of being a creature definitely caught my attention.
“Does that mean we have to sleep in coffins?”
“Not unless you want to.” I detected a bit of sarcasm in his voice.
He sat back into the couch; a slight smirk turned the corner of his mouth up. “They are quite confining and uncomfortable. Personally, I prefer a large bed. But, if you wish, we can find you one.”
“What about the sunlight?” I asked. “Doesn’t a coffin protect us from it?”
Lysander shook his head. “We sunburn easily, but we do not burst into flames, Alyssa,” he scoffed. “Proper window coverings are enough to keep us protected during the day. Sunlight is a danger and not particularly pleasant, but not immediately deadly.”
I was silent, taking in all this new info
rmation. I desperately tried to remember the last sunrise I had seen, so I could burn the beautiful hues of orange and pink into my memory.
Why did this have to happen to me? This sucks. No more daylight. I’ll never feel the warmth of the desert sun again!
Lysander’s eyes locked on me. I felt an odd warmth radiating from him. The strange sensation broke me from my thoughts of daylight.
Did he enjoy being a vampire? Did he ever have problems with this lifestyle?
He broke the silence. “You’re undoubtedly very weak and in quite a bit of pain at the moment. I promise this will not last too long. It may take a day or so for your mortal body to completely change. Blood will help this.”
I winced at the mention of blood.
“You will need blood regularly,” Lysander said.
“Please, no.” I waved my hands in front of my face. “I don’t want to talk about this. I can’t.”
“I’m sorry, but it is unavoidable. The living energy it provides is what keeps your immortal body functioning properly. You will have to have blood … and soon.”
I looked away, turning from Lysander to the bookshelf, letting my eyes blur out of focus. I did not want to deal with this reality. My mind teeter-tottered between fear and confusion. I ran my tongue over my newly sharpened teeth.
How am I going to live off blood? Does he really expect me to bite someone?
I wanted all of this to be a dream. Lysander’s words reverberated in my head. Your body will need blood regularly.
How could I be this thing? I couldn’t do this. Why the hell did this happen to me?
I realized I’d been sitting silent for a while. I turned back toward Lysander, meeting his hypnotic blue-gray eyes. His stare questioned me, as if looking for some sign of acceptance. I wanted to speak, to say something profound, but all I could come up with was, “Why me?”
“Fate, perhaps,” Lysander said with a casual wave of his hand. “Those two men were meant to be my victims.”
A pained look crossed his face, his brow furrowed as if the mention of those men caused him some unknown suffering. “Regrettably, they attacked you first, and I couldn’t allow you to die by their hands.”
I nodded to myself as he spoke and again ran my tongue back and forth across my teeth, enjoying the new feeling of the sharp, pointed ones. I tried to grasp everything he’d explained to me. It all sounded crazy, but this was reality now.
“You’ll do best not to bring much attention to those,” Lysander said catching me lick the tip of one of my teeth.
I snapped out of my daze. “Sorry, I just can’t help it, it’s all so... so... ” I was at a loss for words. How could I describe how I felt about all of this? It was new and frightening.
He shot me a stern look. “I know this is very different for you, but you will have to learn to be discreet about your new self. The world is not that accepting of us, and we must be vigilant for fear of discovery.”
“But who would we need to fear? Didn’t you just tell me we’re immortal?”
He lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose before letting out an impatient sigh. “Immortality does not mean invincibility, Alyssa.” Annoyance tainted his voice. “Ours is a life of secrecy. The better we blend in and the less attention we draw to ourselves, the better. There are people out there who hunt us.”
“What do you mean, like actual vampire hunters?”
Lysander glanced up at the ceiling as if looking for guidance. “Yes. There are hunters out there, Alyssa. They call themselves the Acta Sanctorum—the Saints. Their church promotes the hysteria that all supernatural beings, and anyone else who might be considered different, are unnatural. They see us as nothing more than monsters. They use fear to allow them free rein to kill whomever they please, to rid the world of what they deem evil.”
“Wait, so you mean there are more than just vampires out there? What else is unnatural? Werewolves, wizards, witches?”
“Yes, there are many other supernatural beings in our world. But…” His face became serious, as if contemplating something important. “Not all of us are evil, and sometimes the hunter should be destroyed rather than its prey.”
This was way too much to handle. I didn’t want to hear anymore. I was overwhelmed. Vampires, werewolves, religious crusaders… there were too many new things to process. I tried to get up, but my muscles protested, refusing to move more than an inch. I sank back down into the couch cushions.
“Alyssa, let us try to concentrate on one thing at a time, for now. I know this is all new for you. Just try to focus on vampires, our kind, now. The Acta Sanctorum hunts—”
“Maybe we should be put down,” I snapped. My hand balled into a fist at my side.
“What?”
“Sounds to me like the Acting Santum people—”
Lysander’s eyes narrowed. “The Acta Sanctorum,” he said slowly, enunciating each word.
“Whatever. It sounds to me like they are trying to be the good guys. They hunt down murderers.”
“Being a vampire does not make you a murderer.”
“But didn’t you just tell me we have to kill and drink blood to survive? Doesn’t that make us evil?” I was freaking out. The words came out before I could stop myself.
Lysander sighed and shook his head. “It must be nice to live in such a simple world, where everything is black and white.” There was a menacing growl to his voice. He stood up and paced the length of the room, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“Yes, we do survive on blood, as most people survive eating cattle, chickens, pigs, and other animals. Those animals are slaughtered for human consumption, but I don’t see you so quick to shame that carnivorous act.”
He threw a stern look at me and instantly, I felt ashamed. I knew I should have chosen my words better. Scared or not, I shouldn’t have insulted Lysander or his lifestyle. After all, he did save me, even if by doing so he condemned me in the process.
Lysander sucked in a breath before speaking again. “Being an immortal does not make you evil. You are what you are. You must survive on blood. You cannot eat food or drink anything except blood from now on. Remember this: it is how and when you feed that makes you a monster, or just another being trying to survive in this world.”
“I didn’t mean to say… ” I tried to interrupt, but I stopped myself. Annoyance showed on Lysander’s face. He glared at me coldly. I winced, remembering what he had done to my attackers. I didn’t want to further incite his anger.
After a long pause, he spoke again, his voice monotonic and controlled. “Being immortal does not deny you any of the same basic needs as anyone else. We need shelter to keep us from the elements, clothing to cover us, and food to keep our bodies running. The only difference is our food. We must drink blood.”
I nodded. There was nothing I could say to him at that moment.
“You are going to have to throw out many of your beliefs about what is right and wrong, or you won’t survive the infancy of your vampirism.”
I never wanted this vampirism.
I slouched into the couch cushions, pondering this for a moment. Lysander sat down next to me; his eyes locked with mine. It was obvious he wanted some acknowledgement from me that I understood and accepted everything he’d told me. I just didn’t know what to say.
As far as I was concerned, killing was evil, and I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that human beings were now in the same category as a cheeseburger. I was repulsed by the thought of drinking blood, especially from a living being.
How was I going to survive this infancy, as Lysander put it? If I didn’t kill, I wouldn’t live; but if I did kill, I would deserve the Acta Sanctorum coming and destroying me like a rabid dog.
I couldn’t avoid Lysander’s quiet stare any longer. “I’m sorry.” It was the only thing I could think to say at the moment.
His expression softened. I could tell Lysander understood, at least on some level, what I was feeling.
�
��Becoming a vampire is easy,” he said calmly. “Living with the condition, that is the hard part. It’s your choice if you wish to survive now. I saved you from mortal death; now, it is up to you to live with this knowledge of what you are.”
Chapter 5
HIS WORDS HAD been plain, lacking any emotion. He was right, though. As cold and emotionless about it as he was, his words were true. I didn’t want to accept it. I didn’t want to become something I thought was wrong. I felt so out of control at that moment, knowing what I was—a vampire—and having no way to go back.
In one night, my whole world had changed. I wanted to go back to my apartment and hide, to pretend none of this had happened to me. I didn’t want this new life.
I needed a drink. A good stiff one.
My stomach nagged at me. It had been nagging me since I woke up in that bathtub. I couldn’t continue to ignore it. I needed to eat, or drink, or feed—whatever it was called. But, feeding meant blood. I was stuck. This was some kind of a cruel joke. My body craved the one thing it needed, which was the one thing I felt repulsed to think about.
“How long can I go without blood?” I mumbled.
Lysander seemed to perk up, hearing me mention the “b” word. “You’re young; you will probably need to feed every night for a little while. When you get older, you can go days and even weeks without it.”
“And what happens if I don’t f-ff-feed?” Just the sound of that word made my stomach turn. I imagined drinking warm cupful’s of thick, gelatinous, half-coagulated blood.
A sickeningly sweet taste gnawed at the back of my throat.
“Consider it a kind of paralysis.” Lysander said matter-of-factly. “If you don’t feed, your body will simply shut down, and you will go into a comatose-like state, unable to move, leaving you at the mercy of the elements and whoever may find you.”
I took a slow deep breath to try and calm my body down. Hunger relentlessly nagged at me, but I didn’t want to accept that I needed to drink blood to stop it. My stomach ached with emptiness as my mind flashed to images of the blood I had drunk earlier.
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