The Vampire Memoirs

by Mara Mccuniff

  I would not leave without checking the man first, and it was then that I saw all of his clothes and accessories on the dresser. His money purse lay on top of the pile, but I looked away, trying to avoid that temptation, too. It didn't work. Before I could recover my senses I had taken the shillings from the purse and run from the inn and into the streets. The moon's light glared at me, into my eyes and into my mind, but the hunger was gone. I have fed, damn you, and stolen as well, is that enough for you? I screamed at the moon, but in my mind only. I ran full speed and nonstop through the streets until I reached my basement home and locked myself tight inside for the night.

  I had quit my job at the pub and found another one to work at. If that had been one of the poor fellow's haunts, I didn't want to be there to explain things to him. But, my luck being perpetually bad and all, this was not to be. Exactly one week later, somebody tapped me on the shoulder as I was setting down a platter of drinks, and lo, as I turned around, there he stood.

  "Hallo, there, lass," he said. "Recognize me, don'tcha?"

  "Uh… uh, no," I lied, "No, 'fraid I don't, suh," I added, and tried to continue another way, but he held my arm fast. I could easily have broken his grip but didn't want to make a scene.

  "Aye, surely ye must, lass," he said, "We had quite a fine time together."

  "Did we, suh," I said. "I ought to say that ye alone had a 'fine time,' 'cause—"

  "That I did, lass," he said. "And I be lookin' forward to more fine times. If ye catch my meaning, eh?" he added, nudging me and winking.

  "I'm afraid that would be impossible, suh," I said. "Y'see, I'm—I'm not who does such things. I-It was an accident, nothing more. In fact, I want to return your mon—"

  "But all me friends know about ye now," he said. "They know how cheap ye are for such fine services."

  "What?" was all I could gasp after a pause.

  He smiled and nodded. "Ye could set yourself up for quite a bit of business, lass," he continued. "Bring some happiness to a lot of lonely lads. And they'd keep ye happy, too," he said, and then pulled out plenty of shillings and held them before me. My eyes widened, but I quickly regained my composure and made him put them away and grabbed a platter.

  "Uh… uh… I have me work to do, suh," I flustered and hurried away.

  But he wouldn't leave. All night long it seemed that everywhere I looked, he was there, drinking and staring at me. Sometimes I could almost feel him watching, and sometimes he would be talking to someone and pointing at me. I wanted to run from the pub and find somewhere quiet and private and just cry, but I had my job to do and couldn't afford to pull silly stunts like that. I would have to get away after my shift.

  Well, the man (I believe Roger was his name, actually) and his pals cornered me outside and started questioning me and egging me on and pawing me and flashing money, until I could take it no longer, and told them I would do whatever they wished, as long as they would leave me alone afterward. And they decided amongst themselves, and then stuck me with a slimy old bastard with one eye and all his teeth either black or missing. But he had the most money among them and paid me well.

  My boss was no fool, either. He knew what had been happening that night and promptly fired me when I walked in the next night. I had no choice but to turn around and go back home, but not before one of Roger's chums caught up with me and tried to strike up a conversation. I was in no mood for chitchat, however, and shoved him away and ran all the way home.

  It didn't end there, though. I went into a slump and had a hard time finding another job. Expenses were chasing after me as always, and I needed some way to get money—any way. The real jobs just weren't there, but I always knew what else I could do to get quick cash. And that's just what happened. I soon found myself haunting various pubs and taverns, at first dealing with Roger and his pals, and when they were short on money, other customers as well.

  I quickly learned how to be both discreet and efficient. I did find jobs at other pubs and taverns, and by this time I could "do business" without any of my bosses finding out. I wasn't in it for the fun, I was in it for the money. It's a business, pure and simple, and almost any prostitute will tell you that.

  I became much in demand rather quickly, and high-priced as well, a fact which irked my "competition" to no end. I had no pimp nor any brothel to operate from, but I was able to become successful enough just working the pubs. In fact, it got to the point where the poor folk often couldn't afford me. I considered heading for richer territory, namely, the as-yet unnamed "middle class." That meant working my way toward the wealthier parts of London. One might think finding customers would become harder as the clientele became richer, but I found little difference. For all their newly risen Victorian standards and Reason Worship, there were always plenty of depraved men about no matter what social class they were in.

  Chapter 30

  "Evenin', suh. Out for your constitution?"

  "Indeed I am," he said.

  "It's always nice to see people outdoors at night. 'Specially gentlemen like you. But—you're out alone, an' all. 'Ave you no lady of your own, suh?"

  "No, I'm afraid not."

  "Oh. Well, per'aps you wouldn't be mindin' a bit o' company, then, would ye?"

  "I—I suppose not."

  "Well, thank you, suh," I said, and slipped my arm into his as we continued walking. He stiffened a little, but I expected that. He'd loosen up soon, I knew that.

  "Lovely night, innit, suh?"

  "Uh, yes, uh—quite."

  "Y'know, ye surprise me, suh," I said. "I mean, ye seem young an' 'ealthy an' 'andsome. And yet ye 'ave no lady."

  "Um… well…"

  "Ever makes y'lonely, suh?" I asked. "'Specially at night?"

  "No, I—I try not to dwell on it," he said, pulling at his collar. "I have plenty of time, I'm sure."

  "Oh, I'm sure y'do, too, suh," I said. "But still. I'm sure in the meantime ye'd like a little female companionship every now and then."

  "Uh huh… yes," he said, clearing his throat and stiffening more.

  Wouldn't be long now. We walked some more in silence.

  "You know…" he began finally, "I must say I… I never thought I'd ever actually speak with a woman of your sort. Least of all w-walk with one… That is…"

  "An' 'ow do y'mean that, suh?"

  "Oh… women of your sort, I mean. The sort who—who do what you do."

  "Hmm, an' what's that that I do, suh?"

  "I think… you know what I mean."

  "No, you'll 'ave to tell me, suh. You'll 'ave to tell me right out what y'think I do."

  "Well, I—I may be wrong, that is…"

  "Come now, suh, y'can tell me. I'm a grown woman."

  "Yes," he said, looking me nervously up and down. (I was taller than he, after all.) "Yes, you—certainly are."

  "So what am I, suh?"

  "Well, I think you—well, I think you want money from me."

  "Do I?"

  "Yes, you… want money for me, in exchange for—fffffavors," he said, and pulled at his collar some more. I laughed a little then smiled at him.

  "Oh, you are funny, suh," I said. "I like that. Funny, an' 'andsome, too. But some'ow I think I'm only makin' things worse for ye. I meant no 'arm, suh, truly."

  "Actually… I think you did."

  "What?"

  "Yes, you—oh, certainly not intentionally, but you do harm others, in your own way."

  "Now, wait a minute, I never meant to insult ye, suh," I said, taking my arm out of his. "Can't blame a girl for tryin' to make a livin', so—"

  "And just how do you make a living?"

  "I'll just be leavin' ye now, I—I only wanted conversation—"

  "Now just a minute, young lady," he said, grabbing my arm.

  "I'm not so young as ye think an' take yer 'ands off me."

  "I only want to ask you something."

  "Well, what?"

  "Only… only that, I wonder, Miss—er, I don't know what to call you."
/>   "Call me Miss Smythe, then."

  "Miss Smythe, thank you. I was simply wondering, if you could perhaps tell me… why?"

  "Why what?"

  "Why… why would a woman…" he started, then gestured with his hands, "Why do you… do what you do? Do you actually enjoy it?"

  "Suppose'n I do," I said, shrugging. "Now if'n ye don't mind—"

  "Oh, come now, that can't possibly be it. Women are—well, I don't claim to know the workings of the female mind, and this is one of the things I've never understood. That is, why women can be the most virtuous and chaste creatures on earth, and yet there are women who… who…"

  I shrugged again.

  "Guess some of us just can't reach such peaks o' virtue, luv," I said. "Bloody shame, innit?"

  "Now, listen, I'm trying to talk to you, not—"

  "You wanna know why I do what I do, suh?" I snapped. He'd pushed me too far now. "Well, I'll tell ye. 'Cause there ain't nothin' else for us. There ain't enough 'usbands, and fathers, a-a-and brothers to 'take care o' us' like everyone say they's's'posed to, that's why! 'Cause you try bein' a lady, an' 'ave no school, or 'usband, or whatever, an' try to make a decent livin'!"

  "Now wait a moment—"

  "Nooooo, now ye've gone off an' blown me all oat, so now y 'gotta listen! I used to 'ave a 'respectable' job, serving old bastards their food an' their ale, night after night. An' they wouldn't leave me be, that's what 'appened! Wouldn't let me do my job, kept pushin' an' paw in' an' grabbin' an' whatnot. How long y'think your 'virtuous women' can put up with that, eh?"

  "Umm…"

  "Yeah, they couldn't! I know I tried, suh; I tried to be one o' your 'virtuous women.' That's the way it works, suh. Always 'as. Makes me wonder 'ow I made it so long without this."

  "It couldn't really be so bad," he said. "Could it?"

  I laughed and turned to leave again. "You are funny, suh," I said. "But I better be off now. This was a nice talk but not very profitable, if'n ye follow me."

  "Wait!" he said, and ran up to me.

  I sighed and shut my eyes in frustration. "What now?" I groaned.

  "Only… Well only… it's just that, looking at you, I—"

  "What?"

  "It only seems that someone like you… someone like you isn't truly meant for something like this."

  "Oh, Lord, none of us are, suh—"

  "Well, what I meant was… What I meant was, that I have certainly seen others, like yourself, I mean, and—you're far different than they are. You're—you yourself said you tried to be a 'virtuous woman'—"

  "And failed."

  "But that's just it," he said. "You don't carry yourself, as someone who's failed at it. To look at you, one would think this… occupation of yours would be so far beneath you that the thought of it would fill you with repulsion. You're far too—Such a beautiful lady, but such an ugly way to live."

  I lost track of how long I stared at him in silence. He was an odd one, I gave him that. Yet I couldn't tell if his interest in me was forced, or if he truly cared. Why is he doing this? I thought. What does he hope to gain?

  "I thank ye, suh," I said finally. "For the compliment. Many a bloke's told me I was beautiful, but not—not the way you 'ave. Not for your reasons. But don't put y'self out for me, suh; I'm too far into this now. Concern y'self with the other girls. Y'might 'elp them better. But I thank y'for tryin'. But I gotta go now."

  "Urn… well, I did try," he called after me. "But—could you tell me your name, at least?"

  "Told ye: Miss Smythe."

  "I meant your name."

  "An' yours?"

  "Hampshire," he said. "Edmund Hampshire."

  "Pleasant talk with y'then, Mr. 'Ampshire," I said. "But it our paths should cross again, I'm Smythe. Mara Smythe."

  I was not able to perform that evening. My concentration had been broken; doubts had been introduced. I tried and tried until no one but me was walking about at night, not even the blind-drunk pubgoers, so I went home. And once there I thought—and thought—and thought of just about my entire life. Where I had begun, where I had gone, where I was now. And I cried for the first time in centuries. I didn't think I even could anymore. So this was the glory of immortality, was it? The great power we had over the leasts, and over men, which I used to get "customers." Glorious! How proud Gaar would have been of me. Even he might not have chased after me if he had just met me now.

  I walked the next night, and the next, and so on, and all of them ended up the same way. Disastrously. I could barely even start conversations anymore, let alone talk men into an evening of fun and profit. The best whore in London had lost her touch. Finally, I could take it no more, and I ran all the way to the top of the building and screamed fit to burst my lungs. People opened their windows and hollered, and I hollered back, until I hollered one last time and dove from the roof, transforming as I fell.

  As a bat I flew faster and harder than I ever had before, and headed straight for the Thames. I landed on one of the banks and peered into the black river of rushing water. Running water. It kills our kind. Washes the skin right off our bones. It would certainly kill me. I only had to dive in. It might be painless, it might not. It might take several long, agonizing minutes to do its job. But it would do it, and I'd be free. I hoped…

  Big Ben began to strike then, and I kept staring at the water. Four o'clock. Dawn was but a few hours away. If I hadn't the courage to dive in just then I could wait a while. Maybe I should have just stayed out on the roof that night, so many centuries ago. Sent Lara away so I could have died.

  My lips started quivering, and my throat tightened, and for the second time in many centuries, I cried, and I fell to my knees and crouched into a fetal position, and cried and cried. In my eyes I was a coward, for I had not the courage or strength to finally end my existence after all that time. More than anything I hated my precious immortality, yet my fear of death was still even stronger. Agyar was right; it was what I dreaded most.

  I saw Edmund another night, and tried to avoid him when I did. He saw me, too, though.

  "Uh uh, excuse me," he kept saying while trying to catch up to me. "Excuse me! Miss Smythe!" I slowed down enough for him to catch up, but didn't stop.

  "Miss Smythe," he said. "It is you, isn't it?"

  "Uh—why, yes, suh, it is," I said. "Must not 'ave 'eard ye"

  "You seem to be in an awful hurry."

  I slowed down to a normal pace now.

  "Do I? Didn't mean to seem it," I said. "I'm just—walking."

  "Oh," he said. "I see."

  "Not for the reasons y'think, suh. This time I'm just walking."

  "Oh? Has—have you been considering what I said?"

  "Shouldn't be too quick to pat y'self on the back, suh," I said. "But, yeah, I been thinkin' 'bout things lately. Where I been, where I'm at. Don't much like what I saw, to be truthful. Seems I been messin' things up for meself right good these past few—years." (I was about to say "centuries.")

  "Ah—well, but now that you've been thinking, you must realize that—that there are far better things for you, for a woman as—well, as refined as you. Yes you are of the—er, working class, but you don't carry yourself that way. You are more—"

  "I 'ppreciate what you're tryin' to do, suh, an' I thank ye for it, but right now I'm not much up to any conversations. Just thought I'd take a walk, that's all."

  "I'm terribly sorry, Miss Smythe," he said. "I… never was much good at comforting people."

  "I used to be that way," I said. "Takes time, but y'might learn. Meantime, I'll be 'eadin' back 'ome now."

  "Yes, uh—well, perhaps you… might like some company then?"

  "But I just said that—"

  "Silent company, I meant. We needn't talk."

  I shrugged. "Suit y'self, suh."

  And we did walk in silence, until we reached my building at last. Edmund hid it well, but I could feel his unease at being in a poor section of town.

  "Well," he said cheerfully as he
could, "So this is where you live?"

  "Aye, suh," I said. " 'S all I can afford, I fear. But you—no doubt you got a fine place."

  "Well, it's—comfortable," he said. "For me, that is. Perhaps—perhaps you could see it sometime."

  "That an invitation, suh?"

  "Uhhhhh, yes, I—Yes. An invitation, then. Perhaps you and I might be able to… have tea together some day. If… you don't mind?"

  "Don't mind at all, suh," I said. "In fact I'd be delighted to. Just give me an evenin' to go."

  "Well, perhaps—tomorrow afternoon, then? I shall call on you, and—and walk you to my flat. And have tea?"

  "Be delighted, suh. But tomorrow night it'll 'ave to be. Can't be with ye in the day."

  "Very well. Tomorrow night, then."

  "So when ye come, I'm in the basement flat there," I said, pointing to the grating window.

  "Very well," he said. "I shall call on you, then. And—uh—" he said, reaching out awkwardly and taking up my hand. Then he kissed it.

  "That is how the gentleman treats the lady," he said.

  Not a bad place he had. Pretty much what I expected of Edmund, although its decor was not quite so Victorian as I'd expected. He did have quite a big library, I thought: a whole room devoted to his books. I couldn't read English well but, from what I gathered, a lot of them seemed to be about magic. Well, not real magic, certainly, but he had a number of intellectual-type treatises on witchcraft and other matters of the occult. I asked him about them, but he waved them off as relics of his youthful past, when he loved to read of the unusual and extraordinary. That's why those books were all off in a corner. And besides, he'd been well established in the Church of England for years. I accepted this and forgot about it. There was nothing "extraordinary" about the way he came across, and most important, nothing unusual in his aura, either. Normal human.

  He poured a nice cup of tea, and we chatted for several hours before he confessed to weariness, but offered to walk me home, nonetheless. I didn't need an escort but accepted his offer. We parted with a kiss on the hand again and another promise to call on me.

  I went back to work the pubs as before. As usual the pay was barely enough to keep a roof over my head, but in the meantime I still had a little bit of money left over from my old occupation. But I was determined I wasn't going to go back to that, no matter how poor I was.