The Victorian Vampire

by Nick James

  I barked out a small laugh. ‘Bad circulation,’ I lied, once again. But hey, I kill people for food, so what’s a little white lie. ‘And please, call me Bert.’

  He looked around and smiled a massive smile. ‘I sure will, Bert, but only when we are alone,’ Jasper said, and I nodded and turned out. ‘You be careful out there, sir – uh, Bert,’ he corrected.

  I pushed open the door and allowed the chilled air to waft in. ‘Sure will, buddy. Did you want anything while I’m out?’

  Once again he showed off his pearly whites. ‘I wouldn’t say no to some fried chicken, but if you can’t don’t worry about it,’ he said.

  I just held up my hand before heading into the mass of humanity following their normal routes home, to a bar or anywhere that took their fancy.

  All the streets in my life blended into one, from cobbles and dirt to tarmac. But somethings never changed, it just got hidden – well, sometimes. I had done my research on New York and found out that it used to be a right den of filth. But a mayor came in and cleaned it up to bring back all the holidaymakers and their money, even after 9/11 people still flocked there. That’s why these terrorists won’t win. Mainly because they are hurting the public, leaving the man in power alone. Yes, they kill the poor soldiers and law enforcement, but rarely the odd senator. Like in England when the terrorists killed Lord Mountbatten, the IRA lost a lot of support and money that day. Wherever you are, there will always be a cause to fight for.

  I stopped at a bar and enjoyed a medium-rare burger and fries with a couple of beers. A couple of women heard my accent and swam on over and started to chat me up. The girls were not my type, so I kissed their knuckles, we swapped numbers and I went on my way. I did notice a few angry looks from what seemed to be disgruntled locals getting wound up by the Limey getting their girls. It wouldn’t have mattered if I was a Yank; they would still have been pissed off because the girls didn’t want to give them their numbers. That’s life.

  Finally, my walk ended under the Brooklyn Bridge. The darkness enveloped me like a coat which allowed me to walk unhindered. A few girls of the night were working on either their backs or knees; some things never change. The pursuit of willing flesh has always been the driving goal, for either family or lust.

  It was touching on the witching hour when I saw my goal: a tall white man covered in tattoos with a scar from eye to jaw. At this moment the human waste was slapping a blonde streetwalker to the ground. My vision narrowed and my incisors grew, then I made my move when the girl remained still on the ground. With my speed and strength I took the man off his feet and into a stanchion for the bridge, knocking him out cold and making a gonging sound that echoed in the darkness.

  In the blink of an eye, I wrenched his neck to the side, tore into his jugular and drew out the life fluid. There was a hint of narcotics, but that didn’t matter as my body would filter that out. During the last beats of his heart, I released and slashed my own wrist, allowing my blood into his rotten mouth to start the change. I noticed the woman was still knocked out, so I checked the man’s wallet and helped myself to his money. Waste not, want not.

  I looked around as the man started to convulse. I found what I needed and plunged a piece of wood into his heart, turning him into ash. Over the years I had learnt it was better not to leave any bodies, so a little bit of my blood enabled their bodies to change from human to vampire – and once staked, no body.

  The girl was still out cold, so after a brief wipe with a wet wipe (lifesaver), I picked up the girl and carried her into the light-strewn streets. It was then that she started to come to. With that, I placed her on some cold stone steps and walked away; after all, I am not a hero.

  As the hour struck one a.m., I returned to the apartment block and waved at Jasper as I walked in through the front entrance. ‘Here’s your dinner, mate, three pieces of chicken, fries and hot wings,’ I announced, holding up a bag for the gracious man.

  I had bought the same for me, not sure why, but it looked good. Although, my belly was awash with rich blood.

  Jasper’s eyes went wide at the sight and smell. ‘Aww, thanks, Bert. Did you enjoy your night?’ he asked, pushing the bag under his desk.

  ‘Not bad, got a few numbers, which annoyed some locals, but what you going to do?’ I said, making us both laugh. ‘Well, night, Jasper. Enjoy your food.’ I waved away the money he tried to give me.

  ‘Thanks again, Bert. Sleep well.’

  I headed up to my apartment and threw all but my boxers into the washing basket before turning on the idiot box. Buffy the Vampire Slayer was on, perfect. Now that was one girl who could stake me. As I watched her battle the demons of darkness, this 150-odd-year-old vampire consumed a bucket of chicken…nice.

  Chapter 12

  My bed called, so I placed the photos of my wife, friends and lovers in the room. The smiling Annabel, Suzie the elder swinging that sword about the shop, and then her granddaughter the drunk-looking Suzie when we played dress-up and she wore a wedding dress, and the small photo of Veronica who I lost on that damned day. I wished them goodnight and hoped for happy dreams.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t happen because the doorman called up saying I had a delivery. At least I would have a change of clothes tonight. The suits I bought would be collected by a local dry cleaner to get rid of the new smell, and the rest I threw into the machine to wash while I went back to bed.

  After waking with a rumble of my stomach, I decided to stretch the old muscles by doing fifty push-ups – well, five, then I got bored and grabbed a bowl of cereal to try to fill the void. But, as expected, it didn’t do much. The sun was dropping over the skyline, so I headed out onto the balcony in just a pair of boxers and a T-shirt while eating my Frosties. ‘They’re Greaaaatttttt!’

  My eyes roamed the building and then stilled. Once again, the office girl across the way was looking at me laughing while shaking her head. She hugged herself and rubbed her arms as though demonstrating she was cold. That made me laugh and shake my head as I continued to eat my cereal. The woman was still laughing when she gave me the broken in the head sign before walking off, this time with a wave, but the image of her tight black dress stayed with me all evening.

  I headed out as the night reclaimed the world of light. Jasper was on duty but dealing with an old couple, so we just nodded. I tried to mime a chicken and eating, which nearly made the poor man break down, but he caught on and nodded. Well, there was my shopping list for the night.

  After a bit of fact-finding, a kind cabbie warned me not to go on my own to the Bronx part of town. And with a smile on my face I answered him, ‘To the Bronx, good sir. I wish for adventure.’ I announced this request in my best Victorian voice, but not my usual one, something from the books of Arthur Ignatius Conan Doyle. He just gave me a bat-shit crazy look and we drove off into the night.

  The cabbie dropped me off at an Irish bar on Amsterdam Avenue to have a few drinks before I headed off hunting for those who would not be missed. It was a nice atmosphere and they didn’t seem to hold any grudges against the Brits, and I didn’t blame them for the loss of my friend Adrian. Think with your head and not your cock; that was something he paid the ultimate price for. But then again, there was a blonde at the bar who seemed to be giving the smaller of my two brains pause for thought.

  And that was how I spent my time cavorting in a one-bed apartment until three a.m. with one Kelly O’Brien, who basically rode me like she had stolen me. Even my vampiric energy was pushed to its limits that night. Luckily her batteries eventually depleted, and we swapped numbers before she passed out. She was a quick-minded one, too. She called my number straight back to check it was real. But she was a stunning woman, and now a stunning snoring woman. Time to go out and feast.

  Once again the darkness was like a friend and protected me. There were people’s shadows everywhere, but not to me, I could see everybody. After half an hour I found a winner. An overly aggressive john who was slapping a girl after receiving some down
on her knees service, and not the ‘sorry, Father, for I have sinned’ type. Within the ten-minute mark the man was ash and I was fifty dollars richer. Now I was on the way to get Jasper’s chicken.

  The next day my personal effects arrived from England, which did cheer me up a bit. I paid Jasper and his cousin Jason to help bring up the cases. Well, when I say help, I meant do it completely, and I paid for lunch, too. Pizza all round. Jasper was a good man, but I found his cousin looking through my cases when he was meant to be going to the toilet.

  ‘You okay there, buddy? You lost something?’ I asked in a friendly way.

  He jolted and looked up, even though he was a big, tall bloke he looked fearful. ‘Nah, sorry, Bert. I didn’t mean nothing – you just got some nice stuff here,’ Jason said with a bright yet false smile.

  I looked into the case; it was some of the things I had salvaged from the bombing. ‘Yes, I have, they were my late wife’s things, keepsakes if you will, you know what I mean,’ I said with cooler tones.

  He must have sensed my irritation as he stepped back with his hands at chest height in a placating matter. ‘I’m sorry, brother. I meant nothing by it,’ he said.

  The man was lucky because the beast inside would’ve happily torn him asunder, even though I would have had to repaint, and I do hate painting. Jasper then walked into the room sensing something was amiss.

  ‘What’s up, Bert? Jason?’ he asked, looking from me to his cousin.

  ‘Oh, nothing. Jason was just appreciating some of my late wife’s personal effects as well as my own, but we’re all good,’ I said in slightly warmer tones, but my eyes never once left Jason’s. In fact, I don’t think I even blinked.

  The cousins swapped a look; I could feel the tension in the room.

  ‘Okay, then. Well, we’d better go now. I have to work later,’ Jasper said and shook my hand. ‘Thanks for the extra cash, buddy.’

  ‘No worries. How about a burger tonight? I’m getting strange looks from the chicken place and they say I should be the size of a house.’ We laughed, but I remained looking at Jason. Then I shook his hand and gave it a bit of the macho squeeze. Not sure if something went crack, but he did pale before heading out.

  Thankfully I wasn’t hungry, so I just popped out for a walk and picked up burgers for myself and a very apologetic Jasper, which of course I just shrugged off. But I had a feeling that I would be butting heads with Jason again. I also had a few ideas about my friendly business lady from across the way, whom I’d now deemed as my neighbour. I had made some purchases, so now to wait until Monday.

  In the early hours of Monday morning I started to feel like I was being watched. There would be no second guessing if I was back in London; whoever it was would be tonight’s dinner. But I was still vulnerable in the city that doesn’t sleep. Every day I was learning about my hunting ground.

  I managed to feed on a gangbanger, if you care to use the local patois, who seemed to be loitering around an intersection with a gun in his hand, and he wasn’t a cop. As the ashes of his body scattered into the winter wind, I felt eyes on my back. My enhanced vision scanned the dark recesses of the street. There wasn’t a thing showing up. So, in the blink of an eye, I bolted into the dark alleyways, leapt over parked cars and at one point an old homeless guy having a crap behind a dumpster – the poor guy fell back into his heap, but that’s life on the streets.

  Jasper was receptive to my late-night delivery of Chinese food and was still apologising about his cousin. ‘Man, it’s okay. He didn’t really do anything wrong.’ I chuckled and handed over his food. ‘Now, enjoy your Chinese, and I’ll see ya later, Jasper,’ I said as I headed towards the lift.

  ‘Okay, my friend, but thanks again, Bert, have a good night,’ the guard called out as the doors opened and spirited me away to my new home. The thought of being watched kept my thoughts from heading back to the past, which I was grateful for. Could it be another one of my kind? Although, I had only met a few in my time – good and bad ones.

  As the sun rose mockingly, I watched the early birds running about with their coffees and bagels, which did make me ponder what would happen to major cities if we had a coffee bean shortage. Yes, I live on blood, but as the Yanks say, I do like a cup of joe in the mornings. God knows where that comes from. Wikipedia, here we come.

  For some strange reason I was getting excited about seeing the raven-haired beauty again, and I hoped she would get a laugh out of it. As the clock tolled six o’clock, I saw her drift into view wearing her usual black dress. I could see her scanning my darkened windows. So I slowly pushed open the sliding door letting the Manhattan weather swirl around me. I could then see a small smile appear on her face. She sipped her coffee as I stepped out into view with my hands on my hips, my legs apart and my head tilted up in a heroic pose. And that’s when I could see the stunning woman spray her beverage onto the window as she took in the view and crumbled out of sight in laughter.

  She must have waved a few more people over who helped her up and started to take photos of me. Damn you, paparazzi. My neighbour gave me a warm smile and blew me a kiss before walking away. I gave myself a solo high five and headed back in to take off my Spiderman outfit. It was a winner.

  I had been lucky so far with my real neighbours as I’d lived a reverse lifestyle compared to all of them. But tonight was doomsday. I was caught by an older white couple from two doors down. They walked out of the lift as I was trying to head out, maybe to the Irish bar again. They looked in their early forties and as though they had just fallen out of a magazine shoot. Everything they wore was a high-end brand. I nodded and hoped they would let me just enter the lift with only sharing a brief nod. But no, they stopped and both gave me an award-winning smile.

  ‘Hi,’ they both said together brightly. Then the man took over. He leaned in and shook my hand. ‘You’re the new tenant from 5c,’ he said, still showing off his perfect set of made-to-measure teeth.

  I smiled back, with my not so perfect teeth, but they looked straight enough. ‘Yep, I’m Albert, Albert Morris,’ I answered – and yes, they smirked at my old English name.

  The woman clapped her hand to her ear. ‘Jeez, I love your accent. My name is Kitty, and this big lug is Stephen, with a “ph”,’ Kitty said buoyantly. ‘Where in England are you from?’

  ‘London, just fancied a new start.’ I let my eyes flick towards the now empty lift wantonly, but I turned back to the pair who were still talking. I knew who they were; Jasper had warned me this day was coming. They were party people.

  Stephen’s smile grew. ‘Hey, we’re having a party on Friday, you should come,’ he said while his wife nodded avidly.

  She took my arm. ‘I heard you were here on your own. Did you want to bring a date?’ Kitty said with excitement all over her sun-ruined face, these people were true sunseekers. The mention of a date made me sigh. I instantly thought about the beautiful girl from across the way. But I shook that off; I hadn’t even dared to meet her yet.

  ‘Sure, that would be lovely,’ I agreed. I had already decided who I would ask. ‘What time would you like us there?’

  They told me to come around about eight o’clock, and then Kitty gave the typical double-cheek kiss and bid me goodnight. Finally, I could make my escape. I could see the smirk on the doorman’s face. He obviously knew what had happened.

  ‘Piss off, unless you want me to bring you back some vegan food,’ I sneered.

  ‘Awwwwww, come on now, Bert, I’m only having fun,’ Jasper said, showing off those big pearly whites. He then laughed as I walked out of the front door while giving him the finger. I could still hear his laughter as the door closed to protect the man from the cold weather.

  As I walked into the night, strange looks were sent my way as everyone else was wearing their winter wear, whereas I just wore my leather jacket. I took out my phone and scrolled through my numbers, making sure I didn’t call anyone from England, although I was pretty sure Tracey would be up to no good. Plus, the UK is a long
way to go for a pint. There she was; I saw her name appear on my contact list. The phone rang and rang, and then she picked up.

  ‘Hello, Alby, is that you?’ she asked with a slight chuckle. From the first time I told Kelly my name she changed it.

  ‘Hey, Kelly, how’s it going tonight?’ I asked and waited for the tirade about her job at a major department store. We had talked several times over the phone but never managed to meet up again and relive our night of passion, which was basically down to my aversion to sunlight, and a section manager who apparently hated her.

  ‘I’m fine, baby. Just got in, so I’m soaking my feet. You want to bring over some dinner and chill?’ Kelly asked with those come-to-bed tones she had used at the bar that night.

  ‘Yeah sure, I’d love to. I’ll be right over,’ I said and then heard happiness emerge in her parting words. I clicked off my phone and hailed a cab. It took a few attempts, but I was finally picked up by a friendly Indian driver call Ganesh.

  ‘Where to, sir?’ he asked respectfully in his strong accented words.

  ‘Bronx please, mate.’ I gave him Kelly’s address. It was a tidy cab with the typical well-used aroma that all cabs seemed to adopt in the Big Apple.

  ‘Are you from England, sir? I have family in Birmingham,’ he asked.

  I smiled. ‘Yes, just moved here recently, but I grew up in London,’ I stated and smiled at him through his rear-view mirror. For the rest of the journey we just chatted about the state of the world in general. We both agreed that most people wanted to earn a good wage and be happy, but there would always be someone who wished to control and spoil it for everyone – either governments or terrorists alike.

  He parked right in front of her apartment block, 1940s brick-built with an old-style iron cage elevator – even for me the trip up to the seventh floor was nerve-racking. As I pulled the cage open, I could smell Kelly already. She must have seen me step out of the lift; she loved to watch people from the spyhole in her apartment door. It opened and the tall blonde stood leaning seductively against the door wearing sweatpants and an oversized football jersey. Her clothes didn’t match her sultry tones.