The Vampire Memoirs

by Mara Mccuniff

  Gaar had tried his suit on and liked it. He was angry, but also pleased that Agyar was giving us gifts, especially such expensive ones. Gaar was always generous to his own guests, but not to the point of excess. I commented that he was probably just being extra nice to us because our trip there was an inconvenience, and Gaar agreed that I was probably right. And besides—I saw that look in Gaar's eyes when he first saw me in the dress; he was definitely pleased.

  Agyar joined us after we had already started dinner. He mentioned that his business in town had been tedious, as usual, but then announced that it was not going as well as he wished, and he would have to leave us for the day tomorrow, as well. Gaar was naturally not very pleased with this news, but there wasn't much he could do about the situation. Then Agyar complimented us profusely on how our gifts looked on us and thanked us for accepting them. Again I noticed him lingering his gaze on me, and I felt more uncomfortable than before, not so much for the idea of being stared at as for Gaar's potential reaction to it. But Gaar kept calm about the whole thing, commenting later that he was more interested in getting the trade set up quickly so we could leave than starting any diplomatic incidents.

  And despite their short times together, Gaar and Agyar seemed to be getting along well enough in the negotiations, even by only the second night. But once they got started on that topic, I knew it was time for me to leave them alone in their business and go elsewhere. At first I meant to just go straight for our room, but then I decided to just wander around a little more. I ended up on the third floor, where there were mostly storerooms and such, but just above that was the roof, and I decided to look around up there.

  There was nothing particularly special about the roof. It was flat and spacious—perfect for just walking back and forth in the night air if one so chose. I made my way toward a wall and leaned forward to see the grounds below. I could see nothing, as it was practically pitch-black now. It was just one day away from the full moon, however, and the light from this made some shadows visible every now and then. Mostly I just sat and listened—listened to the sounds below, and some even coming from the small forest nearby. Again, I became so lost in my thoughts that I scarcely noticed the cold, until I heard some strange noises. They came from below, toward the stables a little bit, and I assumed it was the animals skittering around a bit. But then, I know the sounds of horses, and pigs, and cows and sheep and goats, and these sounds didn't seem like they were coming from any of those animals. I actually thought rather little of what it might be, when I heard another sound, directly behind me. It was my name; someone had whispered my name, I was sure of it, and I whirled around immediately, startled.

  I could see nothing. The roof suddenly seemed blacker than before; I could barely even see my own hands before me. And I was afraid, that much I knew, but as Gaar had taught me, I was no longer letting my fear rule me. "Who said that?" I whispered harshly. "Who's there?" No answer. Not even the sound of the wind. "Gaar?" I continued. "Did you call me? Gaar?" Dead silence. Now I was becoming worried for myself; I seemed to be hearing things. Then I remembered that it was almost the full moon, and that it can make people hear and do strange things. I needed to get inside, then, away from its influence, and I especially shouldn't go out the next night, either.

  Almost the same activities ensued the next day while waiting for Agyar, only Gaar was a little chummier with Agyar's people this time. He talked a few of the friendlier ones into playing card games with him after that night's negotiations. They were too busy to join him during the day, they had told him. Gaar asked if I wanted to join, but I had never really been interested in gambling games, and I declined his offer. This, and I was still a little frightened by my experience on the roof, not to mention what happened as we slept that night, as well. You see, I was awakened later on that night by the same feeling I had experienced on the roof; I thought I had heard—no, not heard, felt—my name being called, and when I sat up in bed, I saw no one. At least I think there was no one there; I saw nothing, but then I definitely had the sensation that someone was watching me, someone who was either too cowardly to show him or herself, or too devious. It took me some time after that incident, but I eventually fell asleep again and was undisturbed the rest of the night.

  Dinner was exquisite as usual, and I excused myself to return to our room after the business talks started up again. Gaar had brought some books to read for our trip, and since he had long ago taught me to read Latin and Greek, I had something to do to pass the time away.

  I read as much as I could handle by the dim candlelight without going mad from boredom—most of the books were about philosophy, you see—before I closed up the books and headed for our balcony again. It was the full moon now, and one could see Clovaine off in the distance quite well, and the silhouette of the little forest to the east. I began thinking about Castrill then, and the people we had left behind for all this, and I began to miss them all: Leta, the children, even Leta's children. They were all so dear to me, and I wanted them there with me, or better yet, that Gaar and I could go home.

  Then I heard my name again, and I almost fell from turning around so quickly, I was so startled. This time someone was there.

  "Oh!" I cried. "By the gods, Gaar, please don't… oh…"

  I could see as he came from the shadows that it wasn't Gaar. It was Agyar. Silly that I could ever mistake the two, considering how little they resembled each other. His face became clear as he moved under the moonlight, and he smiled.

  "No, it is not your husband," he said. "Only I. Gaarius is entertaining my people, it seems."

  "Oh," I said, still a little flustered. "Oh, yes. He told me about that."

  "I'm glad that he can enjoy himself here," he continued. Then: "And you? Are you enjoying my home?"

  "Hmm? Oh, yes. It's very nice," I said. "You've been very generous to us."

  "I try to treat all my guests as well as lean," he said. "Or at least the important ones." I smiled a little, embarrassed.

  "Thank you again for the dress," I said. "It's lovely."

  "Think nothing of it," he said. "It was only to make your stay more comfortable. But what else might I do for you, to make your stay better?"

  "Better?" I echoed. "No, really—everything here is just fine. There's nothing more you need do for me…"

  "If you insist."

  We were both silent for a long time. Agyar stood closer to me than I felt he should, and it then dawned on me that I wasn't supposed to be outside during this full moon.

  "What are you thinking of?" he asked suddenly.

  "Hmm?"

  "What are you thinking of?" he repeated.

  "Oh—nothing, really," I said. "Just of home. Friends, and family."

  "Do you have many?" he asked.

  "Friends or family?"

  "Either."

  I sighed once and leaned over the railing.

  "Neither, really. Only Gaar, and our three children. And my very good friend and her children. Beyond that I have only some acquaintances. But that's all I need, really. I've never needed to be surrounded by hundreds of people."

  "Neither have I," he said. "We are alike that way. We like to be alone."

  "Only sometimes," I said. "I've learned that always being alone breeds loneliness. And I hope I never have to be lonely again."

  "I, also," he said.

  I sighed again and propped my head up on my arm. "And I do miss them," I whispered. "Ran, and Tirell, and Kiri. And Leta."

  "Your children?" he asked.

  I nodded. "And my friend," I added.

  "Well… it ought to be all over soon," he said. "Then you may see them again."

  "Yes."

  We stood in silence for an even longer time before either of us spoke again. Agyar began staring at the moon, as I was, too, I then realized.

  "The moon," he whispered, "How it seems to stare at us always. I like to think of it as an eye, almost, that can gaze at us wide-eyed, as it does now, or that can wink at us, as it doe
s at the crescent."

  "I've never really thought of it that way," I said.

  He laughed once. "One can think of the moon in any way, really. As an eye. As a great white flame that flickers over a month's time. As the sun of the night, giving life to those that live by night as the sun gives life to all other things."

  "But the moon can be dangerous," I said. "It can make people go mad."

  "Do you truly believe that?" he asked, turning to face me.

  "Me?" I said, moving back a little. "Well, that's what they say, anyhow. Stay away from the full moon, they say; it can make you go mad."

  Agyar began staring at me for so long that I was beginning to get nervous again. Then he slowly opened his mouth to smile.

  "You stand in its light now," he said. "Do you feel… mad?"

  "No," I said. "I don't think I'm mad. But it could still happen, I think."

  "I think…" he began, turning toward the railing again, "I think the moon only brings out what is truly inside us. We are animals, all of us, and perhaps the moon only brings that out. But man, vain as he is, doesn't want to believe that he is an animal. He wants to be so much more than that. But when others come along to prove otherwise, they call them mad and lock them away somewhere, or put them to death."

  "Umm… yes, I suppose that could be true," I said.

  "But for all man's incredible accomplishments, for all his knowledge and philosophy and science and art—he still must eat, he must sleep, drink, and breathe, just as all animals do. And he must die."

  "I know," I whispered, now becoming a little uncomfortable. I had always avoided talking about death whenever possible.

  "And he has even fought and struggled to avoid having to do all that," he continued. "To eliminate his hunger and thirst and need for sleep. And especially—his need to die."

  I said nothing.

  "Even I once fought and struggled to eliminate all this," he added. "But that was many years ago. Then I stopped searching."

  I remained silent.

  "Do you want to know why I stopped?" he asked. I said nothing, but only looked at him in curiosity.

  "Because I found the answer," he announced. Now I gave him an incredulous look.

  "It's true," he insisted, sensing my confusion and disbelief. "I have fought hunger and thirst and even death, and I have defeated them. I know how to avoid death now."

  "That's impossible," I said.

  "As I expected you to believe," he said. "But it is all true. I will not die—not from age, not from disease, not from starvation. I know the secret to immortality. And I can offer it to you, if you wish it"

  "Wait a minute, wait a minute," I protested. "What do you mean, you won't die? All men must die. You just said that yourself."

  "Not I," he insisted. "I cannot die. I am immortal."

  "Only gods are immortal," I said. "And you're no god."

  "You must be wrong, then, for I am immortal," he said. "Perhaps I am even a god."

  "You should be careful. They often punish people for saying things like that."

  "Oh, I am careful," he said, then cocked his head a little and threw me a wry smile.

  "How old do you think I am?" he asked.

  I shrugged.

  "Give me a guess anyway," he insisted.

  "Thirty… five?" I said. He smiled even more and chuckled a little.

  "Yes, I do look that age, don't I?" he said. "But I'm not thirty-five; not anymore. I'm more like… three thousand years old."

  I didn't believe him for a minute.

  "You're lying," I said. He then moved his mouth right up to my ear and whispered.

  "I don't lie to you, wife of Gaarius. I am over three thousand years old, and I can easily be three thousand years older still. I will never age. And neither will you, if you wish me to share the secret."

  "This is nonsense," I said, preparing to leave now.

  "All right," he said, standing up straight now. "All right. You're correct; it is nonsense. All of it. It was only a jest, as you said. After all, how could I possibly be three thousand years old? Not even Methuselah lived that long; no one could. Right?"

  "Right."

  "Then only answer me this, wife of Gaarius. What do you fear the most?"

  "Excuse me?" I said.

  "What is it that fills your sleep with nightmares, that haunts your almost every waking moment, that threatens to drive you almost mad because you know it's out there, waiting, and there's nothing you can—"

  "I don't think I like this conversation anymore, Magistrate," I interrupted.

  "Forgive me," he said, bowing slightly. "But could you tell me the answer, if only to satisfy my curiosity?"

  I frowned at him once and leaned over the railing again.

  "I've… never really thought about my 'greatest fear,'" I said. "I've been afraid of so many things for too long. Only thanks to Gaar have I been able to conquer them and put them out of my mind."

  "But they will always be there, whether you acknowledge them or not," he said.

  "I know that. But I'm not really sure what frightens me the most."

  "Perhaps it is death which fills you with the most dread."

  "Um… that may be so…"

  "As I said, it's what men have been fighting since the dawn of time. It's only natural that it would be most men's greatest fear."

  "I suppose that's true."

  "It was my greatest fear. That's why I fought it for so long. But I need fear it no longer."

  "Because you're 'immortal' now," I said.

  "Let's not get into that. My question to you is this: do you want to be immortal?"

  "Living forever?" I asked.

  "Yes…"

  "Never getting old…"

  "Forever young… and beautiful…"

  "It's only a fantasy, of course…"

  "But is it something you want?"

  "Nobody wants to die, really…"

  "And neither do you, I'm certain…"

  "No. No, I don't want to die. But—"

  "I can make certain you never will. I can make you ageless."

  "You told me you were jesting."

  "I was lying. What I said before is the truth. Look at me. Look at me, wife of Gaarius. And let me show you what it means to live forever…"

  Curious, I looked at him. And then I realized what had made me stare at him so often before. It was not his face; it was not his body, or his manner of moving, or his clothes. It was his eyes. It was his eyes that I had been so drawn to. It was his clear brown eyes that so fascinated me. No; they were not brown now. They were red. Like a red star that shines in the night, or the sun just after sunrise and just before sunset, Agyar's eyes glowed a bright red that burned clean through all the thoughts in my mind and went straight for the soul. I heard his voice in my mind, but not the words. They were only sounds—gentle, soothing sounds.

  He kept on talking in that comforting way of his, and began touching me. I remember having no strength of my own to stand; he must have been supporting me completely. I remember that he began kissing me, and then I felt the slightest prick of pain that was just as quickly replaced by a gentle sucking, a soothing rush of warmth that felt as though warm water were being slowly poured over my shoulder. I shut my eyes and let my head fall back more and more as I began to feel an almost dizzying sensation of pleasure. All conscious thought was slowly leaving me, and I was ready to fall asleep in his arms.

  Then I felt an awful tearing at my shoulder, and then I saw Gaar's face, peering at me worriedly. I could no longer see Agyar, and I wondered if he had ever been there at all. Was I talking to Gaar the whole time? I thought. What is he saying? But I could make out few of his words, only snippets of "—Attacked? —t's wrong?"

  I meant to answer him, but my legs suddenly rebelled against me, and I began to fall. Gaar caught me up in his arms before I reached the floor and carried me immediately from the balcony.

  Chapter 10

  My next memory was of Gaar again, seate
d in front of me and looking very worried. I felt somebody putting something onto my shoulder, and I looked up to see a thin, middle-aged woman wrapping bandages around my neck and shoulder. I recognized my surroundings as Agyar's kitchen. Gaar had carried me there, apparently. He then placed a hand onto my knee, and I looked at him.

  "How do you feel?" he asked.

  "Gaar?" I said.

  "Yes. It's me. How do you feel?" he repeated. I breathed loudly once and shut my eyes. Then I reached my hand up to my shoulder and made to rub it, but Gaar took my hand gently into his own and shook his head.

  "Don't touch that," he said. "You've been hurt there." The woman was now tying the bandages in place—firmly but not too tight.

  "Do you remember what happened?" he asked. "Were you attacked?"

  "Attacked?"

  "Yes. Did someone attack you? Or some-thing?"

  "Attacked…" I echoed distantly. "I don't… I don't remember."

  "Was anyone in the room with you?" he asked. The woman made as if to leave the room, and Gaar called her to him quickly.

  "Wait!" he cried. She looked at him vaguely. "Where is Agyar?" he asked.

  "The master?" she asked.

  "Yes. The magistrate," he said. "Where is he now?"

  The woman shrugged. "I know not, sir. The master is where he wishes to be, as always."

  "Well, not this time," he growled. "He needs to be found—now. He's going to hear of this."

  "But I know not where he—"

  "Then look—for—him," Gaar ordered. "I want to speak to him now. Can't you see what's just happened here? My wife has just been attacked by someone or something, and he'd better do something about it!"

  "I—" the woman stammered, "I—He will know, sir. He will know."

  "Good," he grumbled. "Off with you, then."

  He returned to my side as the woman scrambled hastily from the room.

  "Weren't you a little harsh with her?" I asked.