Suburban Vampire: A Tale of the Human Condition—With Vampires

by Franklin Posner

  “Gentlemen,” Jeremiah interrupted. He had been sitting stonelike, without reaction, during the proceedings. “This is Scott’s trial. This is something he feels he must do. These are things he must decide. His fate is not in your hands. Allow him to say what he feels he must.”

  “Thanks, Jeremiah,” Scott said. “You’re right. My fate is in my hands; what happens to me, happens. The rest is up to God.”

  “Ah shit,” Jack said. “More of that God bullshit. Great. Damn it, Scott! Now is not the time for that shit! Now’s the time to use your brain!”

  Father called for order, but Jack’s tirade continued and Sinner wouldn’t hear it. Father became more insistent, but the argument continued. Finally, the Inquisitor had enough. “Bloody hell,” the Inquisitor declared, “shut your fucking gobs, and sit down, you gobshites!”

  The Scottish-brogued command boomed throughout the room. It achieved the desired results as Jack, Sinner, and Scott immediately took their seats.

  “Thank you,” Father said. “I believe we are ready to continue.”

  “Right,” the Inquisitor replied. “After Mr. Campbell’s diatribe, I came close to ruling right then. But I understand that counsel wishes to present other evidence in his defense.”

  “Indeed I do, Your Honor,” Sinner said, pointing at the various old books piled before him at the foot of the table. “As you may have noticed, I have access to several volumes of vampiric prophecy. Prophecies that foretell the coming of a chosen one, a deliverer. A major figure in vampire history.”

  “And you wish to prove that Mr. Campbell is that deliverer? That’s a stretch.”

  “Not necessarily to prove he’s the deliverer but merely to prove that Scott meets many of the qualifications. I do not need to prove beyond a doubt that he is definitively the deliverer, only that he very well could be. And I think that won’t be as difficult as you imagine.”

  “Mr. Sinner, I am not a believer in vampire prophecy. I just want to make that clear. However, there are many of those in the Council of Elders who do believe in the prophecy and would be highly interested in any possible signs of its fulfillment. So even though I think it’s tosh, I will allow the introduction of your evidence and consider how you make the logical leaps that I know you will need to make.”

  Sinner bowed to the Inquisitor. “Thank you, sir. Now, this first book is The Prophecies of Flavius. The text dates to the third century. In it, the vampire Flavius—”

  “The vampire Flavius was a plagiarist. And not a very good one. Anything you read from that book will be suspect.” Upon hearing that, Jeremiah, who was otherwise sitting emotionless, allowed himself a smirk but said nothing.

  “Okay, then, moving on,” Sinner said, tossing the old book aside. “Then we arrive at The Prophecies of IshBosheth.”

  “Ah yes, I am familiar with IshBosheth.”

  “Good. Then you are familiar with its passages on this foretold deliverer, are you not?”

  “Yes. Get to your point.”

  “The IshBosheth prophecy refers to a Redeemed One, an unwilling convert to vampire kind, a dark warrior for the light, who will save the vampire race from some vague disaster—”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. The Redeemed One, a vampiric messiah who will rescue the vampires and help bear witness to the end of days. I am familiar with the text. So, Mr. Campbell meets some of the credentials. What then? It could be mere coincidence.”

  “I do not think so. I think we very well could be sitting in the presence of the foretold one. Right here.”

  The room came alive with whispers from the vampires seated around the table.

  “So, do you actually believe that Mr. Campbell is the Redeemed One of the IshBosheth text?”

  Sinner hesitated briefly. “Yes. Yes, I do.” Of course, whether or not he actually believed that was not detectable by anyone, least of all Scott. Sinner had to be either completely insane or really good at his job.

  The Inquisitor rubbed his forehead. “Bugger me. You are telling me that you believe that this…man…is the great hero of legend? Are you off your nut?”

  “I am completely in earnest. He meets the qualifications! Think about it. He’s an unwilling convert, and if the actions he took at the mall weren’t those of a dark warrior on the side of the light, then I have no idea what they were. I see no reason at all to doubt. I am telling you, if Mr. Campbell is culled, then the ramifications may be nothing short of apocalyptic.”

  “So that’s your argument?”

  “Well, yes, that about covers it.”

  “Brilliant. Bloody brilliant. A do-good unregistered vampire and his deluded lawyer. Not to mention his questionable sire—”

  “Hey, I’m still here!” Jack said.

  “…and a turncoat to vampire kind serving as his sponsor. Bugger me.”

  “Your honor,” Sinner said, “you cannot in good faith continue this prosecution, not if there is some chance that Scott Campbell is the foretold one. The council would never allow it, and you know it.”

  “Codswallop. I can rule against Campbell. And you know what? I have seen nothing that convinces me that he is anything other than a vampire of questionable lineage who does not meet the criteria this House requires for membership. And so, I am quite comfortable in ruling—”

  “Wait! I haven’t finished my defense.” Sinner then grabbed the larger of his two briefcases. He slammed it on the tabletop with a hollow, resounding thud. He popped the case open, drew out one more ancient volume, and carefully placed it on the table. “The Book of Vampiricus.”

  “Vampiricus? You have a copy of Vampiricus? How the bloody hell did you pull that?”

  “It wasn’t easy. Or cheap. But suffice it to say, this is an original copy. Its provenance is established, procured from a legitimate source. I take it the validity of the Vampiricus text is accepted by the council?”

  “I should think so! Yes, the Vampiricus text is among the treasures of vampire kind. We only have access to partial manuscripts, but you say you have an entire original copy?”

  “That’s right, Your Honor. You can confirm its legitimacy by comparing the fragmentary texts to this complete original.”

  “That would be interesting but would take entirely too much time, and I would like to get this over with. So, tell me what Vampiricus says about our Mr. Campbell.”

  “It says the same things as IshBosheth. Only more in depth.”

  The Inquisitor sighed. “More in depth. Bloody brilliant. We don’t have time. Just read me the most relevant parts of the text, would you?”

  “Yes, sir.” The lawyer started flipping through the vellum pages, finally coming to his destination. “Okay, here’s the cheese:

  From this one, unwilling, and yet turned

  Shall spring forth the root of justice

  He shall not bend to the dark

  But shall embrace the light

  Cursed and yet redeemed.

  He shall come from the line of the Crooked Mouth

  Their descendants crossing waters—”

  The Inquisitor raised his hand to silence Sinner. “Wait, what was that line?”

  Sinner began reciting the text again:

  From this one, unwilling, and yet turned

  Shall spring forth the root of justice

  He shall not bend to the dark

  But shall embrace the light

  Cursed and yet redeemed.

  He shall come from the line of the Crooked Mouth—

  “Stop. Right there. Read me that line again. The line about the Crooked Mouth.”

  “‘He shall come from the line of the Crooked Mouth.’ Tell ya the truth, that part makes no sense to me at all, but hey—”

  “Shut it. Now.” The Inquisitor leaned over to Father and whispered to him. Father nodded his head. “Right. We are going to take a brief recess. This proceeding is adjourned until…well, just stay here and wait till we come back, right?” With that, the Inquisitor and Father retreated from the room.

 
Sinner sat down next to Scott. “Well, this could either be very good…or very bad.”

  “Wow, that’s…encouraging,” Scott replied.

  Father and the Inquisitor went down the hall behind the boardroom and entered Father’s office. The Inquisitor began pacing around the room.

  “What is it, Your Honor?” Father asked.

  “Crooked Mouth…Crooked Mouth…”

  “What of Crooked Mouth? Does this phrase have some kind of meaning to you?”

  “Possibly. No, not even possibly. Unmistakably.”

  “Well, then, would you be so kind as to share this meaning with me?”

  The Inquisitor stopped his pacing and looked directly at Father. “Are you familiar with Scots Gaelic, Father?”

  “That is not a language I am familiar with. Why?”

  “I was raised in it. Back in the Highlands. Back before…well, back in the day, as they say. Anyway, it was my first language.”

  “That’s…nice to know.”

  “And though I have not spoken it in many years, I cannot forget a single word of it. You know how that is, don’t you? After a fashion? That the ways and traditions of your youth cannot be easily forgotten, as they are often among the most cherished memories, assuming your childhood was worth remembering.”

  “I have mixed memories of my own youth. But I am failing to make a connection between your youth and the case at hand.”

  “Crooked Mouth. Right. As you are not familiar with the language, allow me to tell you what Crooked Mouth is in Gaelic.”

  “Please, by all means.”

  “Cam Beal.”

  Father’s eyes widened. “You are not saying—”

  “The origin of the name of the Highland Clan Campbell.”

  “‘From the line of the Crooked Mouth, their descendants crossing waters…’ No, it’s impossible. It has to be coincidence!”

  “It would, if that were so. But even I must admit that it’s a very large coincidence. And it’s far from the only one.”

  “You cannot rule against this man! If you did so, the Council of Elders—”

  “The Council of Elders would be using my nut sack for a sporran. I am left with no choice here.”

  “I agree. Are you to divulge the reason?”

  “No. I don’t think the council would wish me to reveal the reason, for that would merely make our Mr. Campbell even more of a target for every crackpot conspiracy group in the world. So although the meaning may yet be discovered, it shall not be revealed by me.”

  “Very well, then. The die, as they say, has been cast. Shall we rejoin our guests?”

  The Inquisitor agreed. Father led him back into the boardroom.

  Sinner, Jeremiah, Jack, and Scott had all been waiting not too patiently under the ever-watchful eyes of Elizabeth. They were all debating as quietly as possible the meaning of the sudden absence of Father and the Inquisitor, with no one coming up with anything positive. All whispering ceased when they reentered the room. Father and the Inquisitor once again took their seats at the head of the table.

  “I believe that a judgment has been reached,” Father announced. “Your Honor, if you would be so kind—”

  “Thank you. I find that, although Mr. Campbell’s turn was the result of an illegitimate sire, and although he jeopardized the security of vampire kind, these are insufficient, in themselves, to warrant a finding against him. It is, therefore, my ruling that Mr. Campbell’s life be spared, and he be granted full acolyte status in good standing in this House.”

  Scott jumped from his seat. “Woo-hoo!” he cried out, pumping his fist. “In your face! I…”

  He noticed the lack of celebration from the other participants. Father cleared his throat and glared at Scott. He decided it was best to calm down a bit. Still, he, Jeremiah, and Sinner shared congratulatory smiles. It was life! Scott felt an emotional high he hadn’t felt in forever. Since he had been cursed with immortal life on earth, at least now he could take advantage of it.

  The Inquisitor wasn’t yet finished. “Come to order! I am not done with my rulings yet. My purpose here is twofold: first, to rule on Mr. Campbell’s case. This I have done. Second, to determine the status of the vampire known as Jack and his standing in this community.

  “I find that Jack has flagrantly violated the policies and procedures of the House, as established and agreed upon by the Council of Elders. It is my ruling that Jack be henceforth banned from ever siring another vampire again, whether legitimately or illegitimately. This ruling shall be recorded in the logs of this House and forwarded to the council. Further, any standing he held within this House is now denied to him. He is only to remain on the rolls of this House for the purposes of receiving care for his welfare and protection.”

  Jack jumped from his seat. “Hey, now, wait a minute. I wasn’t given the chance to defend myself! Don’t I get my turn?”

  The Inquisitor and Father exchanged glances. “Very well. Defend yourself. Go on,” the Inquisitor ordered.

  “You criticize me for siring unregistered vampires. That’s great; really, that is. You prevent us from taking our rightful place, as the things of human nightmares. They used to fear us. They used to respect us. And now? We’re undead jokes. The House is a joke. Hell, even the council is a joke. It’s all a joke, and you know what? No one is laughing. Registered vampires? Who ever heard of such a thing? And now, you sit in judgment of me, judging me for being a vampire, a real vampire, when you should be sitting in judgment of the human race! But no; instead, we fear them. We fear that if we piss them off, they will break out the pitchforks and torches again. We fear that they will hunt us down and destroy us. But instead, we are content with hiding, allowing humanity to grow in its contempt and cynicism.

  “Humanity, as a whole, has lost its soul! We were once the guide, piloting them with fear and death. And now, what does modern man fear? War? Disease? Terrorism? Job loss? An unpredictable stock market? Rejection? Public speaking? They are no longer afraid of us. We should be reminding them of their ancient fears. We are that fear; we are that which goes bump in the night! And we should assert ourselves as the perfected beings we are: by dominating the world of men. They are beneath us. They should serve us. How dare we allow them to rule us! But no, let us content ourselves with arbitrary rules. Let us content ourselves to suck on bags for our nourishment. You all are a fucking joke. And this proceeding is a joke, too.”

  “Are you quite done?”

  “Oh, I’m just getting started.”

  “No, I think you’re done. Sit down.”

  “I am done sitting. I am done kneeling. I am done groveling for bags of crap blood. And I am done with you.”

  “Jack,” Father commanded, “sit. Down. Now.”

  “And you, sitting in judgment of me. Who the hell do you think you are? Who guided you on your rise to become head of this House, huh? Who was your biggest supporter? Stupid of me, wasn’t it? I helped you, only to watch you become a pencil-pushing manager. A politician. Hey, there’s something scarier than a vampire: a politician. Hell, I’m shaking!”

  “Jack, show some goddamn respect!” Elizabeth roared.

  Father rose from his seat, motioning for Elizabeth to calm herself. “Jack, that you were assistant in my rise to this office is something I do not deny,” he said. “But that is all you were: assistant. I earned this position, and I shall administer it—”

  “Earned this position? Who the fuck are you? Assistant manager at a Taco Bell? Earned?”

  “Jack! That is enough! I stand with the Inquisitor. His ruling shall be entered into the logs of this House. And further, I hereby banish you from this House. Go out, into the darkness, and do not ever trouble this House again. Now go!”

  Jack just stood there. He looked down at Scott, who remained in his seat. “Well, that sucked,” he said. “Scott, are you coming?”

  “No.”

  “Come on, Scott, there’s a better way, a better life, with vampires who will truly appreciate you
. Join me, and let’s leave this place.”

  “No. I will not join you, Jack. Leave me alone.”

  “Scott…”

  Scott rose slowly from his seat and faced Jack. “Leave me alone. Never trouble me again.”

  “But—”

  “No. Leave me alone. And if I ever see you again, Jack, I will kill you.”

  “So that’s how it is now, huh? Well, gee whiz, that’s gratitude for you. I guess that’s it then. Okay.”

  The Inquisitor rose from his seat. “Yeah,” he said, “that is it. Now fuck off.”

  Jack bowed to the board in his overly dramatic, satirical way and left the room. His negative presence now gone, the atmosphere lightened as if a cloud had been lifted. Scott’s mood lightened, too, the joy of the earlier ruling returning.

  “These proceedings are finished,” the Inquisitor declared. “Now, if you don’t mind, I should like to get ready and catch a flight back home.” He shook Father’s hand. “Watch out for that Jack. He’s apt to start trouble.”

  “I don’t worry about Jack,” Father responded. “Enforcement has been watching him.” He nodded to Elizabeth, who shook the Inquisitor’s hand with a warmth that was not normal for her.

  “I’ll keep an eye on him,” Elizabeth told the Inquisitor. “By the way, it’s good to see you again, Allan.” The Inquisitor replied in kind.

  Scott bounded right up to the head of the table and extended his hand to the Inquisitor. “I want to thank you so much for not having me killed,” Scott said.

  The Inquisitor shook his hand. “It was my honor.”

  “Hey, we’re going to grab some celebratory drinks down at the Horse Brass. I’m buying!”

  “Well, I am loathe to turn down a pint, especially if I’m not paying. However, I truly must be going, Mr. Campbell.”

  “Okay, then, it’s great to meet you. Have a great trip back across the pond! And as they say back in the merry old UK, pip-pip! Cheerio!”

  “Right. Nobody says that.”

  “Oh yeah, I knew that.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Grace arrived right on time—barely—at the detective’s squad room, cup of Starbucks in her hand, as she sat down at her desk opposite Kevin. She was running later than usual, due, of course, to her nightly pursuits—her nondepartmentally sanctioned nightly pursuits. She dropped herself into the wheeled office chair and began searching her e-mails for the day.