The Anatomy of Vampires: Volume 1

by Alistair Vlain

  My pulse skipped a beat. My cheeks heated. I’m pretty sure my pupils dilated. Before I could protest, and for knowledge’s sake, I didn’t want to, she had me by the shoulders and was pinning me to the floor. She swung her marble leg over my body and sat atop my hips. I gasped, instantly thinking of my wife and how thoroughly I was betraying her, but there wasn’t much I could do. If this woman let me live, I would have experienced something not many other mortals lived to talk about afterword. And that sort of information was invaluable.

  Right?

  Gripping my chin with her talon, she pushed my head back and to the side, so she could have clear access to my throat. My skin prickled with the anticipation of it. Her bite. Her kiss. It was scary. Dangerous. Easily one of the most erotic things I’d ever experienced.

  My breathing was violent. I could feel the chill off the hard floor seeping into my skin through my clothes, paired with the chill from her deathly touch. The surface of my skin prickled all over, and the bubbly light of the surrounding candles washed over me. My eyes rolled back into my skull, the cherry tobacco-smell of her smoke filling my nose. I felt crazy for willing her—wanting her—to do it. And she did.

  The breath was pushed from me. I felt her slide into the flesh at my throat, her fangs icy daggers. I hadn’t imaged the feeling of a dark kiss to be quite so pleasurable. There was something painful about it, but as this deliciously deep sensation washed over my skin, the combination of her coldness paired with the heat of the life spilling out of me and into her cause me to cry out in ecstasy. She remained with her grasp around my wrists, pinning them hard to the floor, and her strength was more than even a group of men. Her soft hair washed over me in a black rain. She continued to pull the life from my throat in hot waves. My breathing was ragged. Every nerve ending seemed on fire, yet I felt completely relaxed. She pressed herself harder against me. She could have killed me. I wouldn’t have cared. I heard her groan, and it was my undoing. A little embarrassed, but at least I finally understood—somewhat. I understood as much as a living person could possibly understand.

  She was right. The blood represented so many things to them. Food. Warmth. Sex. Life. They are dead. And the only thing keeping these cursed bodies alive for centuries is the blood they take from us. Or sometimes…the blood we willingly give.

  I would never forget the evening I barely escaped with my life and my sanity. It turned out, Mae never wanted me dead. Quite the contrary. After she’d taken all she needed, things went a bit hazy, and somehow, I ended up thrown in some gutter just outside the brothel. Discarded like a piece of refuse among the soggy garbage of Great Yarmouth. But I was not left there without a permanent good-bye.

  Groggy, I struggled to sit up, resting my back against the damp wall of the adjacent building. I breathed in deep the balmy air of the docks at early morning. I sucked it in through my nose and chuckled. Thankful to be alive, perhaps. Thankful for such an experience. I reached up to inspect with my fingertips the side of my throat where Mae had been. Smiling, I removed a silk tie she had put there, no doubt. I recognized it to be one of the pieces from her nightdress. Just next to me, sat my briefcase. Propped open, with the hinges broken. But atop everything else was my notebook, turned to a page I hadn’t yet written on. There, scrawled in black handwriting I’d never seen, were all of the answers to every question I’d had for her. And some I didn’t even know I had. And they were written in rather graphic detail. I grinned like an idiot.

  Vampires do not think of blood as we do food. Food for a human being is simply a survival mechanism. We are hungry, so we eat. In the case of the Vampire, it is this and many other primal needs.

  As Mae had stated, it is like a strong drug addiction. In many cases, it becomes an obsession where the Vampire does not rest until their hunted prey is vanquished. It is an inherent emotional and sexual desire. It affects so many parts of their brain and fuels their powers. Blood, just as it does for us, means life to them. And without it, the consequences are grim. The dark curse is unforgiving—keeping the Vampire alive just enough to experience the internal burning and horrible pain that comes without feeding. They become immobile, incapacitated, and weak. But with the blood, they are vibrant. They are all too powerful. They are dangerous. And, without a doubt, they are very much alive.

  Part Two

  Chapter Four

  Living Cohesively With Other Creatures

  “The Occult Cities thrive on diversity. The success of each enclave depends upon acceptance and understanding of both the dark and the light. Vampires have been and always will be an integral part of magic society.”

  ~Cicero Dell’Orta of The Order of the Parliament

  I am truly thankful for many of my experiences during my time studying and seeking the truth. I’ve interacted with creatures and have been able to visit places most human beings only seldom, if ever, imagine. The truth can sometimes be more fantastic than the conjuring of imagination. Magic is absolutely one of the very last frontiers on the Earth, and most mortals do not have the capacity to even begin to understand the things unseen—the things which stay hidden on purpose.

  After being fed upon and living to tell the tale, I have also bravely ventured across Occult City borders in my time of studying. Most are skeptical when I tell this story. If it were really true, than how is it I did not get caught by the guards of the European Magic Regime? How is it I did not get ripped to ribbons by a Lycanthrope? My answer is simple. If you are kind and willing to do a few favors, e.g. giving a Witch a chunk of your hair, you might get off with a parting gift, like a potion or two. Invisibility and immunity spells come in handy when you are taking on the role of espionage. And, if you ask nicely, a Witch might even reveal to you the location of the nearest Occult City entrance.

  I was surprised to learn about one of the secret cities in particular, nestled in the forests of Northern Ireland. It took only a few train rides, but one warm, summer evening I was successful in crossing the Occult borders undetected. My only sacrifice was downing a vile of green liquid that probably did something to thicken the hairs on my chest. The taste was positively ghastly—bitter, like a crab apple soured by decades of mold. It was all I could do to consume it, for it was the only potion to get me to the inside. And I’ve tried my best to also forget about what the antidote tasted like.

  Nevertheless, I successfully crossed over the borders of my first Occult City, a feeling most exhilarating. The entrance was well-disguised. What stood before me was nothing but a simple abandoned industrial factory. The place was bleak and gray, made of nothing but unfeeling stone and metal. At night, the looming towers and work houses seemed haunted somehow, the wind billowing like a restless spirit through the broken windows. Any unknowing mortal would have bypassed this place without a second thought. But I knew better.

  Glancing once over my shoulder and taking a final swig of my invisibility potion, I stepped through the largest archway, a metal tunnel seeming to only lead to the other side of the building.

  But what I found on the other side was more than just the edge of some normal woods. There was nothing normal about this place. The trek was long and marked with flat stepping-stones, and I followed it through the trees until the path opened up to a road with modest cottages set on either side of it.

  I continued on until the road forked into many and eventually led to a massive town square. It was a place unlike anywhere I’d ever visited. In the deep night, there was an unnatural vibrancy about the enchanted city. The square was larger than I had originally imagined, each building’s stone and wood façade painted in lush colors. From the chimney tops, enchanted blue smoke billowed into the starry night sky between floating orbs of glittering white light.

  I marveled at the enchantments used for even the simplest mundane tasks. No need for streetlamps. Lone brooms swept shop-fronts clean. Flowers grew, spilling like colorful waterfalls from window boxes down to the cobblestone before my eyes. In the center of the square, a fountain spewed a dazzling g
olden magic that pooled in the bottom of the basin. I was tempted to dip my hand in, but feared what the result would be. And I was still on a mission. I needed to maintain my focus.

  A small, black dragon growled at me from the rooftop of an inn. What sort of information was I seeking? I was interested in studying the interaction between Vampires and other creatures of the Occult. I wanted to see what their reaction would be and how they coexisted.

  I was steadily becoming familiar with the relationship of the Vampires with the Regime oligarchy who ruled over all things magical. I was slowly beginning to learn the Vampires’ position in their world—the fact they were on the very bottom of the magical pecking order. It wasn’t only the fact they were night-stalkers and shadow-dwellers, perceived to be up to no good. At one point, they had all been human. Vampires are the only creatures not born of what the Regime considers to be divine blood. At one point, they had not been magical at all. So, in the view of some of the more conservative creatures, the Elves, Vampires had no place among their societies. But the Regime has a certain law to uphold.

  Law One.

  It is both the thing that confines the Vampires, and the one that recognizes them as a member of magic society. Humans cannot become privy to the existence of magic, thereby Vampires must reside within the Occult borders…among the other creatures.

  As I walked through the enchanted square, I was disappointed with the lack of bodies. On a lovely, summer’s eve, the town should have been teeming with inhabitants. But there was not a soul to be found, and I had no idea why.

  Though I discovered the reason when I heard the furious growl rumble from just behind me.

  Whirling around, I found myself face to face with the black and thirsty glare of the very creature I was seeking. His lips curled back over his fangs, and just like my wife, there was no sign of humanity in his face. His claws were outstretched, and he sniffed the air. I knew he’d sensed me. Looking incredulously through the seemingly empty space before him, his nostrils flared with my scent. I was also sure he could hear my pounding heartbeat. I took a few steps back, doing my best to hold my breath. I would become his supper for sure.

  A new, sinister noise sounded from behind me. Another growling, less of a devilish hiss and more similar to the sound of a common dog. Shaking, I glanced over my shoulder to find a most hideous beast from emerge around a shop corner. Blinking a few times to be sure, I was met with a figure with the lower half of a man, but as I lifted my gaze, could begin to see thick tufts of black hair, forming the upper half of a large, monstrous wolf.

  Sure I would be torn to shreds if I stayed between them, I took off, bulleting toward the nearest shelter I could see, which happened to be a covered porch in front of an inn. I ducked behind a pillar and continued to hold my breath. The Lycan let out a shrill howl toward the moon, drool oozing from his immense jaws. The Vampire took a threatening step toward the beast at the other end of the square. They stared each other down, and I knew it would end in a fight to the death. I tried my best not to move—to not even breathe. Were they fighting over domination, turf? Were they fighting over…a meal? I gulped, slamming my eyelids shut.

  Another growl, following the gnashing of jaws and the sound of something tearing forced my eyes open again. Claws flew so quickly through the night, I could barely detect whom they belonged to. With a whimpering from the wolf, the Vampire overpowered it, picking the monster up above his head, and throwing him to the ground. I winced with the crunching of what I was sure was a rib.

  The Lycan cried and twitched as I watched the Vampire roll his shoulders back, easing off his own rage. He took a few, final steps toward his victim. He was about to finish it, I could tell.

  Just as he was about to lunge, someone unseen shouted, “STOP!”

  My gaze snapped to another corner of the square in time to see a woman race out toward the fight. My first instinct was to dash out after her, to keep her safe. What was a woman going to do when faced with such treacherous danger? But with the quick sight of the determination etched on her tan face, something about it lead me to believe she would be quite capable. With the antidote for the invisibility heavy in my pocket, I stayed where I was.

  The Vampire looked up in time to see the woman reach into a leather pouch at her belt, dashing something like a fine dust through the air before her, though the particles spun and zapped with a kind of electricity I’d never seen. I ducked lower, covering my ears from the loud snapping and popping of the sparks. It took me a moment to figure out exactly what her magic dust did. I could only see the outlines of the figures in all the haze. The Vampire seemed to become still. The woman drew slowly closer, and I saw him collapse in a heap on the ground. I gasped.

  The woman gazed curiously down at him. Did she kill him, I wondered. To my surprise, she pivoted in my direction, the golden color of her eyes glaring toward me from between the long strands of her dark hair. A Witch. I knew, because she possessed the same magical quality of the others I had come across. The same worldliness and cunning.

  “You there!” She shouted.

  I glanced behind myself to look for the person she was talking to.

  “Get out of here before you’re killed. You have no business inside these borders!”

  How could she have possibly been talking to me? I gulped, slowly getting to my feet. Silently, I gestured to myself in question. Could she see me?

  “I mean it! Before these two regain consciousness, you’d better be out of here. I won’t be kind enough to save your hide again!” She shouted and started stalking off in the direction she came.

  “Wait!” I called and she stopped again. “You can…see me?”

  “No, you twit,” she answered. “You’re invisible.”

  My fingers twitched for the vile of antidote in my pocket. This Enchantress was captivating, with eyes silver like the moon, and black hair chopped about her heart-shaped face, colored in streaks of purple. A leather belt hung low at her waist with various bottles of concoctions and odd-looking, metal weapons. I’d never seen a woman wear men’s trousers quite so short, either. For some reason, I wanted her to see me, but that would have been stupid. If I drank the antidote, escaping the Occult city would have been impossible.

  “Then how do you know I am here?” I asked.

  The Witch snorted and slapped her hands against the side of her legs before she said, “Do I look like an idiot? That spell is so basic, it reeks! Whoever gave it to you wasn’t very skilled. I can sense you from kilometers away.” She stopped for a moment and crossed her arms over her chest. “What is a mortal like you doing here anyway?” She seemed completely put out.

  “I am here…seeking truth. Knowledge. I have…questions.”

  She rolled her eyes and sighed before waving her arm as if to instruct me to follow her.

  I did so, running up quickly behind her and soon the Witch and I were walking together down one of the side streets of the square. “I—”

  “Hush!” She snapped. “You must be quiet until we get inside. I don’t need the others thinking I’ve gone crazy—talking to myself.”

  Instantly, I mashed my lips together and we went on in silence until she stopped before a narrow, concrete stairwell. It dipped below the foundation of the road, leading into a mysterious-looking, crooked black door. Raising her palm, flat toward the door, she uttered, “Intrant!”

  A quick burst of wind blew her hair back behind her shoulder and the door creaked open on its rusted hinges. She looked at me again and put her finger to her lips. I nodded.

  Following her down the darkened steps, we entered a place I imagined to be where she lived. She removed her belt and scarf, hanging them up on a coatrack by the door that looked like a barren tree growing up from the floorboards. “Mistress, I’m home!” She called to someone unseen down a dusty, shadowed corridor, from which many a doorway led to rooms, which branched off. I was surprised when she grabbed my hand and led me through the first threshold on the right. Shoving me inside the
room, she whirled around and closed the door, latching it with at least three metal locks.

  I gazed in wonder to find we were in a study of sorts. There was a sleeping hearth at the end of the room—literally sleeping, the stonework seeming to expand and contract with the signs of steady, peaceful breath. If I tried hard enough, I could have sworn there were even sounds of snoring. Surrounding us were haphazard shelves and stacks of books. Near the vaulted ceiling an enchanted night sky twinkled down at me. I stepped forward and tried my best not to trip over strewn glass bottles and other magical paraphernalia.

  “Why are you helping me?” I asked, though still totally preoccupied with studying the makings of the mystifying room around me.

  She lifted an eyebrow at me. “Not many of your kind believe in magic. Not many of your kind know where to seek it, nor would they risk their lives by doing so. I’m thinking you must have a pretty great reason for crossing these borders. Either that, or you are a very, very careless man. Now, quickly, before they smell you here, tell me what you want and then I can get you back just outside the borders,” she growled, stomping forward toward the fireplace. “Eros! Eros, wake up!”

  Taking a step back, I watched in bewilderment as the bricks making up the fireplace stretched wide—like the hearth was a giant, yawning mouth. Soot spewed out in a puff of dark air, as though the thing had actually exhaled, before a fire roared to life over the wood. The warm flames crackled, illuminating the musty study.