The Vampire Memoirs

by Mara Mccuniff

  An extraordinary advantage the Age of Machines brought about was the ease with which I could feed. Let me explain. Automation was all the rage now, and businesses were going through major turnovers to get in step with the times. Huge factories were popping up everywhere, all automated, all made for mass production. Steel, textile, food products—and the slaughterhouses. Men could kill thousands of livestock per day as opposed to only dozens before mass production. I leave it to others to debate whether that's an advantage or not, but for me, it meant I never went hungry.

  I didn't work at a slaughterhouse, but what they did—and I kid you not—was to open their doors before sunup and sell cups of blood to people who cared to buy any! Normal human beings were lining up at the slaughterhouses to drink their cup o' blood in the morning before going to their own assembly lines. Now from what I hear, people who worked the slaughterhouses had been doing this for years, and modern workers probably still do it today, under the pretense that it's good for them, apparently. Either way, it was good for me, for now I had only to wait in a line and get my fill for a ha'penny, then get back home before dawn. Now feeding on the rats was free, of course, but believe me, the improvement was worth the money.

  Chapter 31

  I continued to see Edmund. He was an odd fellow, very nervous and shy, but I knew he was quite fond of me. It took me longer, but I became rather fond of him, too. After all, he had shown an interest in me that went above my occupation at the time. To my eyes that was a tremendous compliment.

  He knew where I worked, and once even stopped in to visit. It was a middle-class pub, so he had no trouble fitting right in. He had a boring job as a bank clerk, but that boring job paid for his nice flat, too.

  Usually we made plans to meet somewhere after my work and walk to his flat for more tea and scones. Otherwise I went straight home. He had never actually been inside my flat, which was just as well, as it was quite a dump. Besides, it wasn't "proper" for a lady to invite a gentleman into her home, anyway. That was up to the men.

  I always worked extra late at least one night of the week. On those nights Edmund and I made no plans to meet. On this particular night it had been awfully hectic, and I was tired and dirty and wanted to get home quickly, so I ducked into an alley and transformed into a bat and flew up and away. Don't worry; London has bats all over the place, so my appearance would not have unduly startled the faint of heart, unless the transformation itself had been seen. But I was certain I had not been seen.

  Edmund had invited me to a candlelight dinner, to take place a week or so after the above-described night. When I arrived I could see that he had gone to all sorts of lengths to impress me, from the lit candles on the table to the crystal wine glasses. And I was impressed.

  "I'm so glad you could make it, my dear," he said, kissing me on the cheek, "For I have something very important to tell you tonight."

  "Really now, Edmund," I said, "Looks like you're trying to outdo yourself tonight." (I was working on losing my cockney accent by this time.)

  "Yes, well—I'm certain this shall be quite a surprise," he said, and he offered me his arm, which I took, and he led me to my seat. Edmund was not a bad cook; I don't eat, but I can eat, and his food never upset me. Normal food just goes straight through us, anyway; only blood gives us any nutritional value.

  Nevertheless dinner went quite well, although we did not talk as much as usual. I caught Edmund staring at me a few times, which concerned me and made me self-conscious, but I never called him to it. Then during dessert he pulled out a piece of paper and appeared to be studying it intensely. He made a lot of faces at it and grunted sometimes.

  "Edmund," I finally said. "Um… what's that there?"

  "Hm? Oh, nothing really," he said, setting it down. "Sorry. It's simply a note I've received from my brother, only I can't make out a word of it."

  "Your brother?" I said. "Oh, the one in India."

  "Yes. But whatever it is he's written, it seems to be in some strange language. Can't figure it out. But no matter—"

  "Well—perhaps if I looked at it…" I said.

  "You?" he said. "But I thought you couldn't read."

  "I beg your pardon, suh—sir, I actually can read, write, and speak a lot of languages a lot of people 'aven't—haven't—even heard of!"

  "Is that so?" he said, apparently amused. "Why, I had no idea you knew such things."

  "Well, I do," I said, reaching out for the paper. "Give me a look at it, would you?"

  "Very well, my dear," he said, and handed it to me.

  Well, I actually couldn't make heads or tails of the message. Not only could I not understand the message, but for some reason it was even difficult for me to see the message.

  "Does it make any sense to you?" he said.

  "Um… no…" I said, momentarily losing my thoughts, "No, I… can't translate for you. Sorry," I said, and tried to hand it back to him.

  "Perhaps if you read it out loud," he said, pushing it back to me.

  "Out loud?" I said.

  "Yes," he said. "Perhaps it will make sense when listened to, rather than read. You can do that, can't you?"

  "Oh… I's'pose I could, Edmund…" I said. "Let's give it a go…"

  I shall not repeat the words here, for reasons of safety. You see, the words of the message became clear as I read them out loud, and then faded back into haziness as I continued on. And the more I read of the message, the harder it became for me to think. And when I tried to stop, Edmund's voice came in again, egging me on, pushing me to read and keep on reading, and my thoughts became hazier, and my will became as sturdy as mud.

  When I reached the second to last word, my mind was so much slush. It must have taken an eternity for me to mouth it, and when it was finished, I could not go on. My eyes were open, but just barely, and I could not move a muscle.

  "You have one more word to go, Mara," Edmund's voice went on, "Read it. Go on; I have confidence in you…"

  "Aaaaaaaaaashhhhhhhhtaaaaaaaaa…" I said at last, and my eyes could stay open no longer. I could also not move, and there were several moments of uncomfortable silence, before I felt the paper taken from my hand, and then I felt Edmund's hand turning my head to face forward.

  And I still could not move. I could not move! My thoughts, my mind, everything was crystal clear once I had read the last word, but now I could not move a single voluntary muscle even the slightest bit. I had been in frightening situations before, but nothing was so terrifying as this feeling of utter, total, absolute helplessness that now took hold of me.

  Edmund took my hand and placed it in my lap, and then opened one of my eyelids, apparently to see if anything odd had happened to my eyes. Something had happened; I could not even follow his movements. Paralyzed, just like the rest of my body. Then he shut my eye again, and I heard him sit down and sigh.

  "Well, well," he said. "It seems to have worked. Extraordinary. I have never, ever, until now tested the effectiveness of any of the spells in any of my books, but this one has indeed been effective."

  Release me! I shouted at him mentally, but his mind seemed not to have "heard" anything. Or he heard, but chose to ignore.

  "And if this has been truly effective," he continued, and I heard him rising from his chair, "then you ought to be able to hear everything I am saying even now. But—you are completely unable to move. Correct?"

  I'd "correct" you, suh, if'n ye'd but let me go, I would…

  "How silly of me," he continued. "If you can't move or speak, then how on earth am I to expect you to be able to answer? So," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder, "I'll simply have to assume that you can hear me, and act accordingly."

  He walked away from me, and his voice came from some feet away but still in front of me. I heard him going through some drawers.

  "I suppose I should explain myself to you, if you can hear me, that is," he said. "You see"—his voice was now moving towards me—"I know what you are. Oh, no, no, I don't refer to your once being a—a
'lady of the evening' and all. Or, come to think of it, I suppose one could refer to you that way, couldn't one?" He was just in front of me now.

  "You, my dear, are a vampire," he said, "And the fact that this spell worked on you and no one else proves it. Oh, you probably wonder: 'How? How could he have known?' Quite simple, really. I saw you transform yourself into a bat—which certainly no human being could do—and fly away, less than a week ago. Now, naturally I at first thought I'd been imagining things, but then, the more I pondered what I'd seen—or thought I'd seen—the more I realized how many things about you all seemed to fall into place. Your small appetite for normal food; blood is your diet, not human food. The fact that I have not ever seen you during the daytime; the sun really must burn you, then, doesn't it? But most important, the fact that this spell I've discovered—not to mention the heptagram you are seated directly in the center of (and it was most fortunate you had not seen it when you were seated!)—has worked on you and you only. It is a spell that works only on vampires, you see."

  I felt him place something against my chest.

  "I—I think it only fair to tell you how sorry I am that it must end this way, Mara, because—well, to tell you the truth, I had planned to ask you to marry me this very evening, before I discovered this awful truth about you. But I don't see how we can now, for I have no choice but to destroy you, for you are a—well, a creature of darkness. But I hope you can hear me, and understand, Mara…"

  Oh, Jesus… Oh, God… He's going to do it. And there's nothing I can do to stop him! Not one goddamned bloody thing!

  Farewell, Gaar… Elizabeth… all of you. Perhaps we may meet in death. I pray so…

  "Blast it, who could be coming by at this hour?" Edmund grumbled as the knocking interrupted his task.

  Yes! Yes! Someone at the door! Answer it, Edmund! Answer it!

  "Well, don't you even dare to make a sound," he whispered into my ear. "We'll simply have to wait for whoever it is to go away."

  No!! Answer it! See who it is! After all, it could be somebody terribly important, right, Edmund? Right??

  "Shh," he said as the pounding continued. And then, too soon, it stopped, and I could hear slight footsteps moving away from the door and across the front of the flat.

  No! No! Don't leave! Come back!! Come—I

  "Eddy!" a voice called from outside. "I say, Eddy! Are you at home! I see a light inside, but I wonder if you're home!"

  Let him in! Let him in!

  "If you're inside, Eddy, please let me in!" the voice continued. "It's Nigel and I'd like to see you for a bit! Are you there, Eddy!"

  "Nigel?" Edmund whispered to himself.

  Yes, it's Nigel, Edmund! Go see Nigel! You love Nigel! You want to see him again!

  "I say, Eddy!"

  Eddy still kept silent, and soon we heard Nigel turn to leave again, and a lump came to my throat.

  "N-Nigel, wait!" called Edmund, and the footsteps stopped and came back to the window.

  "Was that you, Eddy?" he said. "Are you home?"

  "Um… uh… yes!" Edmund called. "Yes, I am home, but, um… er… g-go to the door! Walk to the door, Nigel!"

  "Well, that's more like it," Nigel said, and Edmund rushed back to put all of his things away and rushed past me to get the door.

  One can not see Edmund's dining room from the doorway, but I could hear everything clearly enough.

  "Eddy!" Nigel called when the door opened. "How have you been! It's been years, hasn't it?"

  "Er, uh—yes! It has been years! In fact it's quite a surprise to see you again!"

  "Yes, well, you're going to be seeing a lot more of me very soon now, as I'll be moving back to London! In the meantime I won't be here after tonight, so I thought I'd—"

  "Oh, it's very kind that you thought to visit me—"

  "So what have you been—"

  "—But this is really an awful time to stop by, Nigel, you see uh—"

  "Quite all right; I only have time to say hello and then—"

  "Hello. Now you must go—"

  "What, pushing me out the door? What's all this, then?"

  "I'm terribly sorry you can't stay, really I am, but—"

  "What—what's going on, Eddy? Stop pushing me!"

  "I am very busy right now!"

  "What, at this hour of the night? I should think you'd be ready for bed by now."

  "Yes, well, I will be soon, now if you'll just come by tomorrow—"

  "I told you, I'll be leaving London tomorrow and won't be back for at least a month! Now I thought I'd be kind and visit an old friend before then, but it seems this old friend has forgotten common courtesy! Now I'd like to at least step over your threshold, unless that threatens your livelihood, for heaven's sake!"

  "No no, you mustn't go in there—!"

  I could hear him entering the room, and even heard Edmund's desperate attempts to grab at Nigel's arms and pull him back.

  "Now you stop all this… Oh! I'm sorry!" Nigel said, apparently at the sight of me. "Please forgive me, madam, I—"

  "For godsakes Nigel, get out of here!!" Edmund screamed.

  "What? Eddy, will you tell me what's the matter with you? I'm sorry, madam, I never meant to—Wait a minute…"

  "You, sir, had no right to force your way into my house!" Edmund screamed right back. "Now you will remove yourself or I'll call the constables!"

  "Call the constables?" Nigel said incredulously, "What in—Eddy! What is this! Unhand me!"

  The sounds of a brief struggle then ensued, of which Nigel appeared to be the winner.

  "Wait! Stop! Look! Eddy, look!" Nigel said, and then his next words were almost a roar. "For godsakes, Edmund, will you look there?" The struggling then stopped.

  "Can't you see there's something wrong with your lady friend, here?"

  "No! She's fine, I tell you—!"

  "Oh, nonsense, just look at her!" Nigel was right in front of me now.

  "Don't touch her! You mustn't touch her!"

  "Well, can't you see she's fainted?" he said, and then right at me: "Hello? Can you hear me? Can you speak at all?"

  "Don't touch her, I say! She—she mustn't be moved!" I felt a small breeze in my face, as though Nigel were fanning me with a napkin.

  "I said get away from her!" Edmund's voice cried right in front of me. He and Nigel seemed to be struggling.

  "Have you gone mad, Eddy? What's the reason for all this?"

  "You must leave here, Nigel, or she'll kill you!" he croaked. "I was only trying to protect you!"

  "Protect—? Kill—? You're not making a word of sense!"

  "Please; just trust me, and believe what I say, and leave now and save yourself. This—this 'woman' you call her, is no woman at all! She's a creature of darkness, Nigel. This woman is a vampire!"

  There was a moment of silence, and then I heard Nigel shove Edmund away from him. His voice had become a low growl.

  "Oh, you've come up with some queer things before, Edmund, but this is too much," he said.

  "Nonononono—No," said Edmund, rushing up beside me, "I'll prove it. Look there; see? A heptagram. Now the hepta—"

  "Oh, come off it Eddy, you've gone daft!"

  "No no! Nigel—don't you see? The heptagram! I—It's what one uses to—to catch a vam—"

  "Get away from her, Hampshire…"

  "You must believe me!! I—I—One night, outside of a pub, I saw this woman right here, and she actually transformed herself—"

  "I said—get—away," Nigel's voice boomed, and Edmund stopped babbling. Then I heard him move away as Nigel moved behind me.

  "Oh, dear God in Heaven, she will kill us," I heard Edmund whimper.

  Hands grasped the back of my chair, and I was tipped back slightly and pulled backward. I felt a tingling as Nigel pulled me through the barrier of the heptagram, and then out of it. My eyes shot open, and who should I see but Edmund, now plastered against the wall in terror. I could move. I could move!

  "Oh," said Nigel, and
I stood up from the chair and turned to face him. He was taller than I, with brown, wavy hair, blue eyes, a long, rough, but still gentle face, and a great big scarf wrapped about his neck. He was beautiful, and I wanted so much to just sink into his arms and thank him over and over again, and cry my eyes out. But I chose to maintain a calm demeanor, and only smiled very daintily.

  "I see you've recovered, madam," he said, "We'd thought that you'd fainted."

  "I… I must have."

  "Oh, Nigel, she will kill you," Edmund whimpered from against the wall. "She will kill us both."

  "I said that's enough out of you!" he called to Edmund, and then to me: "Pay him no mind, dear lady, it's simply a game we'd come up with."

  "This is no game!!" Edmund cried, and dug through a drawer quickly and pulled out a big cross. He held it out and started moving forward slowly.

  "Get away from her, Nigel, and watch this!" he said. I was afraid then. Not of the cross, but of the fact that Edmund did seem like a lunatic. Wild-eyed. Covered with sweat. A crazed grin on his face. I'd never thought such a transformation was possible for him.

  "Watch, and you will see," he said in a low, determined voice. "You'll see that I'm speaking the truth! That woman is no woman at all, but an inhuman creature of darkness! A wretched servant of the devil himself!"

  Whew! I hadn't heard talk like this since the Middle Ages.

  "Eddy, forgodsakes—"

  "Just watch!" he said, and stood right in front of me, his cross practically touching my face. The crazed look on his face was slowly starting to fade the longer he held it before me.

  "What on earth do you think you're doing?" Nigel cried.

  "This cross can burn her skin at a touch!" Edmund said. "Just watch!" he said, and pressed it to my forehead. I reached up and took it from him gently, and he backed away in horror and fear when he saw that it was not hurting me.

  "But—but—" he said.

  "Are you quite through harassing this poor woman?" Nigel said.