The Vampire Memoirs

by Mara Mccuniff

  I put the cross onto the dining-table. "It's all right, good sir. No harm was done," I said in a very quiet voice.

  "My faith…" Edmund was muttering. "It's not strong enough. It must be stronger than her power…"

  "Eddy, you've gone stark-raving mad," Nigel said in quite a matter-of-fact voice. "I couldn't possibly know how it happened, but I wouldn't be surprised if all those witch books and things didn't have something to do with it. I thought you'd given up that silly interest years ago."

  "Oh, I had," he said in a strange, singsongy way. "I had, truly. But when I found out about her, well, I had to look vampires up. I had to know how to destroy her. Yes."

  "Madam, I think we'd better go," Nigel said. "Quickly."

  "I think so, too."

  He offered his arm to me, which I took, and keeping a wary eye on Edmund, Nigel escorted me from the flat.

  "She will kill you, Nigel. She will kill you," we heard before shutting the door behind us. Nigel hesitated before this and said, "Of course, Eddy; I'll be careful of that."

  And then we were outside, alone. Nigel took up my hands, and held them to his chest.

  "I wish I knew what to say to you, madam," he said. "I wish there were some way for me to apologize for all this…"

  "Say nothing, then," I whispered.

  "What's that?"

  "You have nothing to apologize for, sir," I said in my best accent. "I should be the one apologizing to you."

  "To me? What on earth for?"

  "Oh," I said, "I suppose… simply because of what you went through, to help me get away from there."

  He shook his head sadly. "Eddy was once a good friend of mine," he said. "I can't believe—He was always such a reasonable, stable, fellow…"

  "Do you truly believe he's mad?" I asked.

  "Of course he's mad!" he said. "Why, you saw with your own eyes, heard with your own ears! The things he said! And to a lady, no less! If that was not madness, then what is?"

  "I suppose… He did frighten me a little, with what he was saying…"

  "It's those damned books and artifacts of his!" he continued. "Eddy's always been odd about looking into all that—supernatural, ghosts, witches, devil-worshipers and what not! I always wondered just what it was all for, but now—! I swear I'd think all those books had been giving him delusions! In fact they have been, as you just now saw! A vampire, indeed! Oh, madam, I am truly sorry that you were the victim of his delusions. Where on earth would he come up with that notion??"

  "What notion?"

  "Why, that you are a vampire, of course!" he said. "But—right now it would be best if I saw you home safely."

  "Oh, there's no need—"

  "I insist. I don't trust Edmund anymore, not now. What if he should follow you?"

  "I doubt it," I said, and started walking. I caught a glimpse of Edmund's front curtain moving as we passed by, but I kept my gaze straight ahead.

  "Once you're home safely I'd think it wise that I come back here, and see if he's calmed down." Then he sighed heavily. "Ayyyye. Somehow I had the feeling I'd get no sleep tonight."

  "You needn't lose sleep on my account, suh," I said.

  "Oh, not on your account, no errrr—I meant—terribly sorry. I mean someone should look up on him again, and it certainly oughtn't to be you."

  "I understand, suh," I said, and we walked on in some silence. Then: "By the way, suh, I don't believe we've introduced ourselves. I'm Mara. Mara Smythe."

  "Ah. Nigel. Nigel Clarke." He extended his hand, and I shook it daintily.

  "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Clarke," I said. "And… thank you."

  "No thanks necessary," he said. "But… I must say you're taking all this quite well. To have tolerated such—such wild accusations and insults…"

  "I've stood worse, to be honest, suh," I said. "I mean, worse things have been said, about me, I suppose…"

  "Worse than that?? I can think of little that's worse than all that."

  "Oh, you know how people can be," I said. "How cruel they can be."

  "Too true, sadly," he said. "Too true."

  Finally we reached my flat, which Nigel was obviously not very impressed with. Apparently he'd thought I had "real" money, as he and Edmund had. I only had on a fancy dress that night because Edmund had bought it for me. Nevertheless Nigel politely kept any comments to himself. So I thanked him and restrained myself from losing control and throwing myself into his arms and kissing him over and over for saving me from the worst experience of my unlife. Maybe later, I thought.

  Before leaving he took up my hand and kissed it as Edmund had, only this time I almost fainted when Nigel did the kissing. It's easy to fall in love with someone if he's just saved your life. But of course it wouldn't have been "proper" to show such infatuation. Nigel became embarrassed, however.

  "Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Smythe, I—that was awfully forward of me," he said after the kiss. I only giggled.

  "Is something wrong?" he asked. I giggled again and shrugged.

  "Uh—no, Nig—uhh, Mr. Clarke," I said. "You're not at all forward. Not at all. In fact, I—I'm quite honored."

  "Oh," he said. "Well, that is nice. But I ought to be going now, then—"

  "Uhh—might I be seeing you… some time in the future, then? Mr. Clarke."

  "Nigel."

  "Nigel it is," I said. "And of course you must call me Mara now."

  "Very well—Mara," he said, and his eyes twinkled some. "But I'll be away come tomorrow, but when I return in a month's time, I—perhaps if you'd like to meet with me then."

  "I'd be honored, suh."

  "The honor is all mine, dear lady," he said, and he stared at me for a moment until "But I must be getting to Eddy… poor, poor bastard. I wish I knew what in God's name drove him to this."

  "I hope it wasn't me," I said, but he smiled and shook his head.

  "You should try not to think about all this, Mara," he said. "Go to sleep. Get some rest, and hope no bad dreams come from this."

  "I'll try, suh."

  Eventually he parted from me, and turned slowly to start up the sidewalk again, back to Edmund's.

  "Urn—Nigel?" I called, and he stopped and turned back to me. I descended the steps to my building and walked up to face him.

  "I was just wondering…" I said, "Do you believe in vampires?"

  "Me?" he said, as though I were addressing another. "Actually, no. No, of course not, no. They're simply creatures of old tales, and myths. Now, you don't believe in them, do you?"

  "Well…" I began, "Let's just say I'm not—quite so certain of myself about such things as you are."

  Chapter 32

  It had been about a week since my brush with death. Three weeks until Nigel returned. I'd been counting the days, you see. Meanwhile I had good cause to be concerned for myself; I hadn't heard from Edmund in that week, nor would Nigel be able to tell me what had happened until he returned. I wanted to go to Edmund again and talk to him, but I decided not to take the chance. He truly had looked like a wild man that night…

  I awoke at sunset, as usual, dressed, cleaned up, and otherwise prepared myself before heading for the pubs. It wasn't until I'd reached the door that I saw that my lock had been broken. It couldn't have rusted, I was sure of that; the padlock looked like it had been forced to break. I opened the door and stepped into the hallway cautiously. No suspicious people about, so I inspected the lock further. It was then that the landlord's wife came bustling by.

  "Oh! Miss Smythe! You're 'ere!" she cried. "'Ave you 'eard about the ruckus?"

  "Um—ruckus?" I asked. "I see tha' me door seems't' be broken…"

  "Tha's jus' it, Miss Smythe!" she said. "Somebody tried to break into yer flat today! Some lunatic, 'e was!"

  "A lunatic?" I repeated.

  "Yyyeeeesss," she said slowly, "Some loony straight from the asylum, I'm sure 'e was! Tried to break your door down, an' that's when the Mister fetched the bobbies, an' then 'e started goin' off 'bout monsters b
ein' in there, an' 'ow 'e 'ad to kill 'em all!"

  "What what what?" I asked. "When was all this?"

  "Why, jus''t'day, Miss Smythe!" she said. "Past noon. An' ye know somethin', Miss Smythe? 'E looked an awful lot like that bloke ye've been seeing these past months. Ye wouldn't 'ave been 'aving rows with 'im lately, now, would ye?"

  "Why… uh… are you sure this was the same man?"

  "I dunno. You tell me, Miss Smythe," she said. "Wha' sort o' blokes're ye consortin' with, anyways?"

  "Um—Well—No one at th' moment, Mrs. Thorpe," I said. "I 'aven't been with Edmund, if that's who the lunatic' was, for almost a week. Nor am I to ever be with 'im again."

  "Well, 'oever that loony was, 'e kept goin' on 'bout there bein' monsters in your room, an' shoutin' an' 'ollerin' an' raisin' a ruckus I ain't seen the likes of since I lived near the asylum as a li'l girl!"

  "Ehmm… that sounds awful," I said.

  "Oh, it was, I tell ye that! Why, the bobbies 'ad to drag 'im out of 'ere! Probably took 'im to the asylum, I should 'ope."

  "Um… I should 'ope so, too," I said.

  "Meantime I been keepin' an eye on yer place from time to time, til ye showed up. But I can't guarantee 'e didn't take nothin'. Better give yer place a look-see."

  "I will," I said, "but I don't think he meant to steal anything 'ere. But thank ye, Mrs. Thorpe—for watchin' me things, that is. An' if the bobbies really took 'im to the asylum—well, I can only 'ope he's not able to bother us no more."

  "Amen to that, miss."

  Another brush with death. I hadn't even been aware of it. And it certainly answered my questions about Edmund. Lord, he'd seemed so stable, so reasonable, so… so normal. I blamed myself for what had happened to him, of course; if only he'd given me the chance to talk to him, instead of jumping off to conclusions about us "creatures of darkness." But everybody did that, so I could not blame him for going along with the crowd.

  I fell into a slump soon after Edmund's arrest. He would have been sane, and a free man, if I hadn't been what I am, I was certain of it. What was the point of all this? I wondered. Was Agyar right? Was there no way out of this existence save death? Was there truly no way to return to humanity?

  I knew one place to look, and that was in Edmund's books. Since I'd been welcome in his flat for some time, it was a simple matter to enter it and get his books. Now that he'd been put away he had no use for them. Unfortunately I couldn't read English all that well, but I knew enough to be able to teach myself better by actually reading the books.

  In one of the books was that spell Edmund had used on me. That one was an honest-to-goodness book of magic, but I read only the ones that had to do with vampires, of which there were few. I wasn't interested in how to levitate tables, I wanted to cure myself. But in the end, all my searching proved fruitless. The books were written for human beings, and spells about us supernatural types were of the offensive or defensive kind. That meant How to Catch a Werewolf, How to Bind a Demon, and so on, but nothing on how to cure them without killing them. I counted about sixty ways one can destroy a vampire, and about forty ways to create one (barely any of which were true, by the way), but none on how to help one.

  Nigel was good to his word. He called on me soon after returning to London, and invited me to tea. His flat was just as nice as Edmund's, only more disorderly, considering that he was still unpacking. We made casual but nice conversation, much of which was about his job as one of the shipping clerks for a textile factory. Of myself, I said little, except how I was only a waitress. He lamented some more about Edmund, as he'd heard about his friend's commitment to the asylum, but I kept quiet about it. The evening ended with him escorting me home, and kissing my hand again. This time I kissed him on the cheek, though, which embarrassed him. Ahhh, if only he'd known what naughty thoughts I really had…

  Fortunately Nigel was not as reserved as Edmund had been. I introduced him to long, deep kisses fairly soon in our relationship, but nothing much more than that. It was obvious to me that Nigel was the sort to wait for marriage for any more, and I certainly respected that, always remembering how I had once been.

  For the six months that we were together, I felt young again. Young as when I'd first met Gaar, alive, happy… and human. But like any relationship with my kind, there were the inconveniences. Only seeing each other at night; holding back my true past to him; spur-of-the-moment excuses as to why we couldn't be together during full moons—and so on. But all of that we weathered quite well without much difficulty, although I wasn't sure when my luck would run out.

  We'd been together six months, and I'd invited him over to my flat. I knew he didn't really like the place, but I insisted, and he begrudgingly accepted the invitation. He told me that he had a surprise for me that night, and was hoping maybe we could be someplace… appropriate for it, but since he wouldn't tell me the surprise, I didn't know what was "appropriate."

  I'd managed to be up during the day (after covering the window good and tight) to prepare his favorite meal of split pea soup. I also had some tea, pudding, crumpets, and other goodies for him. It was evening when he arrived, and I kissed him a long time before letting him inside.

  "I'm so very glad you came, Nigel," I said, leading him down the stairs. "Um… I know you'd rather be elsewhere than an old place like this, but—well, this is my home, you know."

  "I know," he said softly. "I understand. In fact, I was just thinking that, perhaps this is the perfect place to say what I'd like to say."

  "Oh? Well, then, have a seat there, and we'll—"

  "No, no, I'd—like to stand for this," he whispered, and took up both my hands. We stood face-to-face.

  "Mara, I—you know that I'm quite fond of you," he said.

  I liked this beginning. "Yes," I said.

  "And I realize we haven't known each other as—well, as long as we ought to have…"

  "Mmm hmm?"

  "Well, what—what my surprise was, was—Mara, I want you to marry me."

  I didn't answer. I couldn't answer; there was so much joy in me, I could not move. He misinterpreted this, however.

  "I—I hope I wasn't—wasn't too forward, then," he said. "I mean, I—I could certainly wait for another—"

  I threw my arms around him and kissed him good and long to shut him up. Eventually his surprise left him, and he got the message and wrapped his arms around me, too. We spent the next few minutes this way.

  "M-my…" he said when we parted. "M-my word."

  I laughed and kissed him quickly again.

  "This must mean that I wasn't too forward," he said.

  "Not forward enough," I said.

  "What?"

  "Nothing. I meant—Yes! Yes, Nigel, I want nothing more than to marry you! Yes yes yes YES!"

  "You are an exceptional woman, Mara," he said. "You're not like so many women I—"

  "Oh, stop giving me reasons, you silly man, and sit! Sit! Sit!" I said, and ushered him into his seat. I took my plate of snacks and held them out to him.

  "Tonight I have fixed you your favorite meal, my love, and then you can tell me how beautiful and 'exceptional' I am. But look, here are scumpets, and pudding, and—"

  "Scumpets?"

  "No, trumpets," I said. "Tumpets or—oh, take them, I've lost my mind tonight!"

  He laughed and took the plate. "Well, thank you, anyway, my dear," he said. "I shall enjoy your trumpets."

  This was a perfect evening. I was in love, my man had now asked me to marry him, I would be his wife and cook and clean and do all those wifely things for him, and all would be beautiful.

  I made him stay seated while I set our places at the table. He said that the crumpets were good, the "trumpets," too, and now was the time for the main meal. I grabbed some old rags to hold onto the soup pot and took it and began carrying it to the table, when one of the rags slipped, and my thumb became exposed to the red-hot bottom of the pot.

  I yelled and dropped it immediately, only the pot landed onto my foo
t, as well, and I genuinely screamed this time. Nigel came immediately to my side, and I was in so much pain then that it did not quite register yet just how my appearance had been changing. Fortunately he had not yet looked me in the face.

  "Mara!" he cried. "Are you all right? Here; let me see your hand… let's look at it…" he said, and I pulled out my hand, which only suffered a second-degree burn, and let him look it over.

  "Lord, the way you screamed," he mumbled to himself, then: "Your hand doesn't seem seriously hurt. We only need to put some… uh…"

  That was when he glanced up at me, and it occurred to me then that I had lost control of my appearance. My mouth was still open from all the screaming I had done, and I quickly let my tongue slide across my teeth. Sharp.

  Time stopped. I knew what he was seeing. Red eyes, gaunt, drawn face, inhumanly long and sharp canine teeth. I made no effort to change them back; it was too late for that. And for all my great age, and experience, I knew that I was the biggest fool on earth.

  After an eternity Nigel made a small noise, as though trying to clear his throat. My appearance was unchanged, and he shifted about uncomfortably and looked at the floor.

  "Uh—heh—" he said, "You're uh—you've got some soup there… on the floor…"

  Still in slow motion, I followed his finger to look at the hot, oozing mess I'd made of the evening, and mechanically took a rag and knelt down to sop up the soup.

  "Would you… like some help?" he said.

  "No," I said, never looking up. In the meantime I worked on straightening out my appearance so the illusion would once again be that I was human. Nigel cleared his throat quietly and sat down.

  "There's some soup left in here," I said. "Like any?"

  "Umm—No, no, I—it's all right," he murmured.

  "That was… quite an accident," he said after a long pause.

  "Yes," I whispered. "Quite."

  "Mara," he said after another long pause.

  "Yes."

  "Stop that a minute," he said. "Stand up."

  "Got to clean this up, suh," I said, "Got to clean me mess."

  "Stand up," he said. "Come on, stop that."