The Vampire Memoirs

by Mara Mccuniff

  Many waitress jobs later, I managed to get a hold of a nice teaching spot at a community college. This was the early seventies, mind you (when music wasn't yet disco, thank God). This was also when I met Jackie.

  Now, my classes cater to "make-up" learners, meaning mostly those who want to finish up their high school education. And there are always plenty of those who have not. Jackie was apparently one of them.

  I knew from first sight that she was also of the undead persuasion, and from the knowing glances she gave me, I knew she knew the same of me. It's in our auras, you know. What struck me about Jackie is that she seemed far too intelligent, too… professional, to not have finished high school. But later I learned that she was converted at age seventeen—the age she appears to be, anyway—and that explained a lot. Being converted as a teenager is a lot like getting pregnant then; one's chances of finishing high school drop significantly. Her education had to continue via the real world after she dropped out of school and left home, which was in 1955, I believe.

  We became friends during class and after, once the session ended. Now she's my best friend. Jackie has unofficially named herself my social director, much as Leta had centuries before. This means it's her job to make certain I learn to "loosen up" and do "fun" (crazy?) things. The first party I ever went to with her was a Hallowe'en party. She tried to get me to go as a vampire, but I refused and went as a pirate instead. The whole thing was a total disaster, because some jerks had spiked the punch, and I got stumbling-blind drunk from half a drink and almost attacked some poor fellows dressed as zombies. Jackie had to pull me away from them and drag me out the door. I woke up in her apartment, where she gave me some coffee and became my friend forever for it. To this day I have never even tasted the punch at any party. Vampires can get dead drunk from one glass of beer; now you know why Dracula never drank "vine."

  Another thing Jackie did was to introduce me to a group I hadn't really thought existed: the vampire population. That is, I hadn't thought there were as many in Los Angeles as there actually were. At the time we numbered in the tens (in Los Angeles, that is), but since then we have certainly gone up. I'm not saying this to frighten you. I should think it'd be clear by now that—well, that vampires are people, too. Most of us had our status forced upon us, as Jackie and I had, only yes, there are some, but very few, of us who wanted our "gift" of immortality.

  One of those who did want it was Theresa. She was converted about two hundred years ago at age twenty-five in Sicily, came here about a hundred years ago, used her power to become filthy rich, and basically lived the life of a spoiled playgirl. She was the sort who took full advantage of the "vamp" stereotype and wore long black, very revealing dresses, lived in a mansion, and got a big kick out of seducing men and feeding on them (but only sometimes converting). You've probably guessed I never took much of a liking to her, but unfortunately, she was also Jackie's friend, which caused me to have more run-ins with Theresa than I normally would have. Jackie tried to convince me that Theresa and I had much more in common than either of us cared to admit, and I did see that she reminded me too much of the worst parts of me. There was also something else about her that made my neck hairs bristle when she was too close to me, although I didn't learn why until later.

  One more surprise for me was when I discovered that I was already something of a celebrity amongst the undead crowd. A lot of that was Theresa's doing. One of her hobbies was history, only her subject was vampire history. To my knowledge she had every book ever written on vampires, and many of them were by vampires. Apparently I'd actually been listed in a number of those books as one of the "elder" vampires who "held great power" or some such nonsense. Theresa was always trying to get me to exploit my power to the fullest, but I saw no use anymore for flashy displays of brute strength and pyrotechnics. Apparently she'd rather I be out leveling mountains or something, which I've been told I could actually do if I wanted.

  I managed in the mid-seventies to scrounge up enough money to buy a small two-bedroom house in Culver City. I'm still making payments on the damn thing some ten years later. Never ends, does it?

  One night in 1985 I was in a department store to buy this sweater I had spotted some time before but hadn't had my checkbook with me to buy. As usual I hadn't planned my night well and ended up arriving just before closing time, and of course I thought I still had an hour to shop. Well, I barely had time to throw the sweater on and bring it to the register. The assistant manager was there, but he'd already shut the door and was waiting for me to finish so he could let me out. His name was Jim (nametag said so). He escorted me to the door but also struck up a conversation with me along the way, and by the time he'd opened the door for me, he'd asked me out for coffee. Now normally I'd have brushed him off for being so forward, but he just seemed a lot more… more honest, and sincere than other men who used their usual pick-up lines on me. I accepted, but admittedly only because I had time to spare. And I love coffee.

  Our "date" was uneventful, for the most part (so was the coffee); the usual chit-chat, where one doesn't learn really anything about the other. But meanwhile I started getting the feeling, and Jim commented on this, too, that we had met somewhere before, and he wasn't referring to the department store. But we had no answers for each other as yet, and ended up exchanging phone numbers and calling it a night after I drove him home.

  I went about my business as usual over the next few nights. Jim was still hanging about in my thoughts, but I couldn't bring myself to call him back. It's not that I didn't think it was "proper" for women to call men, it's simply that I've never been much good at making the "first move" in social situations. That was one of the things Jackie was trying to work on with me, too.

  To my good fortune Jim called me a few nights after our first date, and I agreed to another. Dinner at a dance club, it was. I'm not much good at dancing myself, but Jim was quite a hit; it embarrassed me to be dancing with someone who had actual rhythm. He didn't seem to mind my lack thereof, fortunately. He drove me home this time, and walked me to my door, but rather than demanding a kiss as other men I'd dated almost assuredly did, he took up my hand and kissed it. I offered him coffee inside, but he politely declined, and then waited for me to be safely inside before departing.

  Our third date was at his apartment. He'd insisted on cooking me a steak dinner. And when I arrived he'd really gone all out: candles, quiet background music, a tablecloth. My heart skipped a beat. A romantic! I thought. Rarer than a two-headed snake: a thoughtful, romantic man! It wasn't just an act, either, that much I knew. It's not easy to lie to or deceive a vampire, unless one is a vampire oneself.

  The steak was fine (would've been better if uncooked), but I ate little of his salad (makes bellyaches). Then after dinner he took the dishes into his kitchen, and went over to change the music. Then I had something I hadn't had since I'd been human: a headache. A big headache. A worse, more splitting headache than any I'd ever imagined could be. I winced and rubbed my temples, and tensed, and relaxed, and did all I could think of, but it wouldn't go away. Then I heard a voice say, "Are you all right?" and suddenly the headache stopped, and I looked up.

  I screamed. My very worst nightmare came true. Agyar himself was standing right before me!! But what—? How—? Where—? I didn't know what to do, what to think, I couldn't even start deciphering if this was real or not, and I looked about in complete panic until a hand was placed on my shoulder, and I looked up and made ready to scream, but—

  "Mara?" Jim said, his hand on my shoulder. "What's wrong? I didn't scare you, did I? What made you yell?"

  I looked about desperately, and stood up to look even better. Jim was rubbing my arm now, trying to calm me down.

  "What—?" I said. "But—But—"

  "Mara, what's wrong?" he asked. "Did you see something?"

  "Yes, I—" I said, and looked at him now. "Jim, was—was that you? Just now?"

  "Was what me?" he asked. "All I did was hold out my hand, and then you freak
ed out. What happened?"

  "But I thought you were—I saw—" I stopped for a long time, trying desperately to sort out this mess. Was all that real? It couldn't have been. He's dead. I killed him myself.

  "Mara?" Jim said.

  "Uh uh uh—" I said, snapping myself back to reality, "Uh, yes. I'm sorry, Jim, I was just—please forget anything that happened. It was… I just had a headache, and I guess I was seeing things, or something. Forget it."

  "Well, OK," he said with a sigh. "If you're OK now. Just don't go screaming at me again."

  "Sorry."

  He laughed softly and took my hand and led me to the middle of his room, where he started dancing. I was embarrassed, but he took both my hands now and started twisting me to the beat. I laughed and eventually let go of his hands and started dancing on my own. Soon the song ended, and a slow song followed it. We weren't dancing now, but stood facing each other. I'd never slow-danced before, and wasn't sure how, until Jim came toward me and held his arms out. I met him in a loose hug, and he began swaying back and forth, and I followed. Eventually he moved closer and hugged me tighter, and again, I followed. We swayed back and forth for a while before I rested my head on his shoulder, and I shut my eyes and thought of nothing. He put his head on my shoulder, too, and we stayed as we were even after the song ended.

  "Jim?" I said after a long time.

  "Mmm hmm."

  "I really like you," I said. "A lot." Then I turned my head a little and kissed him gently on the neck. I felt his hand against my ear, and he guided my head up until our gazes met. There was something very old about his eyes, very sad and hurt. But Jim was such a cheerful fellow; if he were in great pain, somehow I don't think he was ever aware of it. There was so much that drew me to him, I just wished I knew what it was.

  I felt myself leaning forward, and he followed, until our lips met in a brief but warm kiss. Then we kissed again, and then again, and that fourth one lasted all through the next song. It made me forget the horrible thing that I'd seen only minutes before.

  Chapter 35

  That night I had a surprise waiting for me when I returned home. Well, first I had a message from Jackie, who asked me to call back, so I picked up the phone and dialed her number, when—

  "Hi!"

  I started and dropped the phone. It was Jackie herself now, next to my dining-room table.

  "Oh, Lord, Jackie, don't do that!" I said, catching my breath.

  She snickered. "Sorry. Just thought I'd scare you," she said.

  "Ha ha," I said. "But what was your message, then?"

  She shrugged and smiled strangely. "Nuthin'. Just thought I'd call. Where were you?"

  "Out."

  "Out? Doing what?"

  Now it was my turn to smile strangely. "Just… out," I said.

  "Ahh, come on, you can tell me who he is, Mare," she said.

  "Oh? Are you implying that I was out with a 'he'?"

  "Just asking," she said. "You'll tell me who it is eventually. But in the meantime, are you in for the night? Got anything else planned?"

  I shrugged. "Nothing really important," I said. "Why?"

  "Good. I wanna show you something," she said, and headed for my front door. "Come on," she said gesturing.

  I followed reluctantly. "Show me what?"

  "Just look out there," she said, opening the front door. "Go outside and look."

  "You bought a new car or something, dear?"

  "I wish. Go on, look outside." I sighed and stepped past the door, and looked about. And then to my left were three women, who jumped up from the shadows. I started and looked them in the eyes: mistake. I remembered their eyes blazing red before my consciousness faded away to blackness.

  I woke up in Jackie's car, surrounded by the three women. They were some of Jackie's friends: Lynnette, Tania, and Victoria, and I was confused.

  "Welcome back, Mara," Jackie said from the front seat. Come on, get out." The others climbed out of the car, and I followed, still in a daze, and saw that we were in a parking lot somewhere. Jackie came up to me and put her arm around my shoulder and led me away from the car.

  "We're really sorry about making you sleep, Mare," she said. "But how else were we supposed to kidnap you?*

  "What? Kidnap me? What is—"

  She stopped me in the middle of the lot and gestured toward a neon sign atop a building. It said "Joy's," and under that was "Every Thursday Night is Ladies' Night!" Jackie and her friends had gathered into a foursome, meanwhile, and I heard Jackie start counting. The next thing I knew they were singing "Happy Birthday"—to me! Afterward they started whooping and hollering, and Jackie took me by the arm to lead me to the building.

  "Happy birthday, Mare!" she said, and others shouted the same.

  "What the hell are you talking about, Jackie?" I asked. "This is all a joke, right?"

  "It's your birthday present, babe," she said, "And don't try to hide your birthdays on us anymore, either!"

  "I didn't think I was trying," I said. "My birthday is March 23."

  "Yeah!" she said. "Septem—! AAAAAAUGH!"

  "March 23?" said one of the others.

  Jackie slapped her hand onto her face. "Maaaaarch… Maaaaarch…" she kept saying. At the time I was too shocked to be angry or amused, although anger was gaining the lead.

  Tania slapped Jackie on the shoulder. "You loser!" she said. "Did you fuck up again?"

  "Now don't you call her a loser," I said, then to Jackie: "In fact now that I think about it, you've never gotten my birthday right, have you, luv?"

  "Like I said, a loser."

  "AAAAAUGH!!" Jackie said.

  "So now whadda we do??" another said.

  "Frankly I haven't the faintest idea what it is you're doing," I said, "But if you're going to go through all this trouble to kidnap me and knock me out, what worse could you do to me?"

  "Happy unbirthday, Mara," Jackie groaned. "This'll be your unbirthday present. Forgive?"

  "Them I forgive. You I don't," I said. She knew I wouldn't mean that for long.

  I learned the hard way what "Ladies' Night" really means. After the usual hassles getting past the bouncer (Jackie will always look seventeen, fake ID or not), we found a small table to one side of the dark, smoky, and very very loud room where—you guessed it—a male strip show was in progress. The dancer was already down to his undies when we were seated, and Jackie and her friends started whooping and hollering right along with the other lust-crazed women there. Another attempt at loosening me up," I figured.

  A waitress came by to take drink orders (all of us had virgin drinks) in between the acts. Then, to my dismay, Jackie spotted Theresa in the crowd, and she spotted us. She forced her way out and came to our table, and invited herself to a seat next to me.

  "Hello, ladies," she said. "What brings you all to a place like this?"

  "This is all for her," Tania said, pointing to me. Oh, great, I thought. Now she'll think—

  "Who, Mara?" Theresa asked. "You mean this was all your idea?"

  "Well, actually—"

  "Oh, it's all my fault," Jackie intervened. "See I fucked up and thought it was Mare's birthday, and we were going to take her someplace fun."

  "Whether I wanted to or not," I muttered.

  "Anyway, it's her unbirthday present now."

  "Oh," said Theresa. "So it's not your birthday."

  "No. And again, this was their idea, not mine."

  "Ah, well, don't worry. You'll still enjoy the show anyway."

  Oh, Jim, where are you when I need you? I thought. The next show was starting, which was somebody dressed as Geraldo Rivera. He played with the crowd, pretending to be hosting a show, and then the music started up, and the stripping began. Our waitress brought our drinks, so I sipped my diet drink quietly while the others yelled and carried on. Jackie kept slapping my arm to get me to watch, which I did, but it was just too ridiculous for me to deal with. It was all I could do to keep from laughing.

  Then when I looked
again at the show, I noticed that a fog was starting to creep onto the stage and out into the crowd. At first I thought it was dry ice, but "Geraldo" didn't seem to react as though it were expected, nor did any of the pit security. I looked at Theresa, who—as I expected—was deep in concentration. She was just playing, I knew, but Theresa has a tendency to let things escalate into chaos, so I concentrated myself. I sent her a flash of pain and made the fog disappear immediately. Theresa knew who was the culprit, and glanced at me with a pained expression. Fortunately she knew better than to match brute strength with me, as I didn't want any more of a confrontation than that.

  Then a sharp pain hit me, almost exactly as it had before, and I winced and held my temples again to try to stop it. It didn't last as long as it had before, and when I looked up, things seemed just as normal as before. Theresa was staring at me, but I could tell she'd had nothing to do with that pain, nor with the earlier attack. She seemed genuinely concerned, but I said nothing to her, and for the rest of the night acted as though nothing had happened, but I always kept my senses on extra alert.

  Jackie's advice to me upon learning of Jim was to tell him about myself. I agreed with her, but not at the time. At that time I wasn't sure just how serious things would become between Jim and me, and I didn't see much use in telling him until we were genuinely an "item." Yes, I had supposedly learned my lesson after Nigel, but I just wanted to make sure the time was right. And even if I did tell him, the hardest part would not be getting him to believe me, but getting him to believe that I wasn't out to bite his neck.

  Jackie would just as soon I not go with humans, anyway, because of the risks involved; she herself tries to stick with "our own kind." I can understand that, but to be honest there's really not that many of us around to begin with, relatively speaking, and even fewer compatible men. That, and I'm not a hopeless practical like Jackie, but I am a hopeless romantic. Let's put it this way; humans are alive, and I don't just mean physically. I mean emotionally and psychically, too. Most of us really do try to stick to other vampires, but even so, it's difficult to not be drawn to humans for their… well, for that "spark" they have that we lack. It may very well be the human soul; I couldn't say for certain. My attraction to humans is certainly not to make them "one of us," not like in those damned movies. I just honestly like the companionship of human males (romantically, that is) more than that of other vampires.