by P. J. Day
“How long ago was that?”
“Over a thousand years ago.”
“Shouldn’t this place be protected for historical significance?” I asked.
“The Chinese are very superstitious. No one comes up here because they think demonic peasants with a thirst for blood live up here. As you can see, they are partly correct.”
We passed by a statue of a man who had a dragon on his back. He pointed to the statue’s mouth, slightly brushing the limestone figure’s fangs. “There is history here, Jack. Our history.”
The opening to the temple had no doors, there was only a five-foot-wide archway with silk drapes which fluttered in the wind. Unlit torches hung at each side of the entrance, as there was probably no electricity this high up in the mountain. I looked back before entering the temple, and the morning fog was beginning to fill the valley below like a rolling flurry of spilled cotton.
“Come in, Jack,” said Lucretius, motioning me with his hand. “The sun can get rather nasty up here on a clear day.”
The inside of the temple was an abnormal mixture of differing architectural styles. As soon as I walked in, a large open space greeted my presence with large, white Grecian-Roman pillars stemming from the floor to the ceiling. Swords, knives, and a set of sharp pole-arms adorned the walls. A set of armor with tightly woven leather plates and golden embroidery hung on a rusty metallic frame. A marble study desk with a primitive wooden chair made of rickety branches rested at the back of the large room. My nostrils were filled with the infusion of aromatic oils and incense; the scents of cassia, tea, and mastic lingered and drifted in the enclosed air.
It seemed that Lucretius wrote and read prolifically, as stacks of paper with writings in Chinese characters and Western phonetic lettering were spread throughout the main room, some in print, others scribed. Boxes of unused ink were strewn against the walls of the temple.
“Please, sit,” said Lucretius, pointing to a large silk pillow on the hard, stony ground. I sat down and crossed my legs. Lucretius slowly sat down onto another pillow across from me, also crossing his legs. I was surprised at his elasticity.
“So, Jack, where can we get those pills?” he asked, quickly getting to the point.
“What is with you guys and these pills? You make it sound like it’s a cure for vampirism. Well, it’s not and distributing it recklessly might cause issues.”
“You still don’t know what is going on, do you?” Lucretius asked, shaking his head lightly at my reaction. “Do you know what makes you, you?”
“Well, that is kind of why I’m here. I was hoping you’d tell me. I’ve been drifting for years, but surviving, and frankly, up until now, quite splendidly.”
“I commend you but you’re very lucky. Jon, who you met in the facility, didn’t last long, as you saw for yourself.”
“Yes, I feel bad for him.”
“Jon was born to peasant farmers in Daxu. He was rejected when he started to exhibit symptoms of his condition—I need to stop saying that, what I meant is...his true nature...his symptoms of his true nature.”
“So, you took him in?”
“Yes, we did and we trained him in the ways of the Jiang-Shi, however, his mother got extremely sick last winter and he moved back to Daxu against our recommendation, choosing to live with humans. Guangzhou Jiyin Engineering eventually kidnapped him, based on rumors of his vampirism.”
“When we were in the facility together, he mentioned that we’re being exterminated, is that true?”
“Guilin City used to have the largest concentration of vampires in the world. We all lived in peace. In fact, the Jiang-Shi composed the majority of the night workers in Guilin. They worked as butchers, dock men, watchmen. Guilin City grew due to our efforts in keeping the city productive day and night. We were happy as we were well-fed by the fresh blood in the slaughterhouses that began springing up around Guilin as China’s agricultural capacity grew,” Lucretius said.
He stood up, his knees cracked loudly as his old lanky frame stretched from the awkward position of sitting down like a kindergartner.
“Let me show you this.”
I followed Lucretius to his study desk. He pulled an old wooden box from underneath the desk which was full of old newspapers. He handed me an old paper that was dated August 31, 1991. There was a black and white picture of a robust-looking dead Chinese man with a prominent brow lying in the street, his chest was bloodied and gashed.
“I can’t read this. I don’t know how to read Chinese,” I said.
Lucretius opened the paper and began to read the article out loud.
“A prominent member of the Ling family, Lu Ping, was found dead in the Xiufeng District. He was found mutilated, with bites all over his body and his heart missing. Locals say there have been reports of men, possessed by evil spirits, drinking blood from livestock at night. Police are questioning the owners of local slaughterhouses and farms which handle livestock to see if there is any connection with these bloodthirsty individuals and the murder of Lu Ping.”
Lucretius put the paper down on his table and lowered his eyes.
“We were all driven from Guilin City after this incident.”
“Was it a vampire who did this?” I asked. “I mean, I haven’t seen any reports of vampires actively hunting humans for a quite a number of years,” I said.
“Yes, it was one of us who murdered this man. But it was not as cold-blooded and senseless as you think.”
Lucretius walked over to the leather armor that hung on the wire frame. Its plates were clean, not battle-worn. It lacked any marks or indentations that would have suggested it had ever felt the blade of a sword or the tip of an arrow.
“The Jiang-Shi have inhabited Southern China for half a millennia. We have fought for emperors, fought against invaders, and contributed to the history and economy of its growth. We are, in essence, warriors, but we too, have a sordid past.”
“So, why was this man murdered?” I asked.
“The Ling Clan comes from a long line of vampire hunters. Their bloodline has spanned for as long as there has been a lineage of vampires,” he said. “The vampires, who adopted the name of Jiang-Shi, moved to southern China three thousand years ago. They were savages, pleasure-seeking brutes who had an uncompromising taste for blood. They hunted their human victims in cold blood and were granted protection by the emperor within the differing dynasties for their warrior prowess. The Lings were peasants who settled in villages by the Li River shortly after the Jiang-Shi settled in Guilin City. They vowed to protect the villagers and peasants from the terror created by the vampires.”
Lucretius’ words sparked memories that I always wanted to forget. Self-awareness within our kind comes later in life, unfortunately. Some of us have committed unspeakable acts, because our nature drives us to fulfill a lust that is incomprehensible to humans. A bloodlust—if left unchecked—that is damaging to our ecosystem.
“So, was the murder justified?” I asked.
“The Ling Clan fought the Jiang-Shi for hundreds of years. The Lings became so proficient in weaponry—especially crossbows, and the forging of silver—it forced the Jiang-Shi into hiding. They eventually agreed to a truce. The Jiang-Shi later became an integral part to the Guilin nighttime economy and the Ling Clan became expert fishermen in a technique that is now becoming extinct. They tie the necks of water birds, so they don’t swallow the fish they catch and they use them to fish as other cultures have used falcons to hunt. Ever since China began advancing economically and technologically by leaps and bounds, the Jiang-Shi have thrived in peace time and the Ling Clan has struggled to keep up with technological advances of the new economy.”
“I’m assuming this murder is responsible for eliminating the truce?” I asked.
“Ever since China adopted market reforms and has turned away from its communal past, it has become more superstitious—I wish I knew why. The local, provincial government, in return for appeasement, has given in to their constituents’
fervor. Based on fragmented cultural history, they contracted the Ling clan to hunt us down—who were struggling economically at the time. The Ling in the newspaper was, at the time, actively hunting the Jiang-Shi and was killed and made an example of, to let the Ling Clan know that war would soon return if they did not back off.”
Lucretius sat down on his wooden chair and looked at the box of papers he collected throughout the years, staring at them in deep thought. I could tell he was overwhelmed with everything that had been going on. He wanted the pills so they could escape the Guilin District and start fresh somewhere else. I felt a sudden and deep urge to help.
“Lynwood, California,” I said.
I picked up one of his plumes and a piece of paper and scribbled on it.
“Here.”
I handed Lucretius the address to Schnell’s West Coast manufacturing facility.
“The trucks arrive Thursday mornings at 3 a.m. like clockwork for the past two years to pick up Zeo.”
Lucretius took the piece of paper, put it in an envelope.
“Thank you, Jack. Our time is running out as well as the history of our kind. I’ll make sure Milton gets this.”
“So, Havens Ling, is he?” I asked.
“Yes, he is a refined hunter, and now the Ling clan has the backing of the entire country for our elimination and the capture of our kind. I brought you here to see if you recognize we have a common enemy now. One who is bent in our destruction.”
“What do you intend to do with the pills?”
“Our main goal is to move out of Guilin City to somewhere a little more remote, someplace which hasn’t been touched by the advancement of growth. We will use Zeo to feed on the living, willingly, of course. I need to leave to relocate my studies. It has become too dangerous over here. Before the market reforms, we lived in isolation. Now, I fear the world encroaching on our sanctum.”
I looked around seeing if I could pick up more clues on Lucretius and the Jiang-Shi. I had a funny feeling that time was running out if I wanted to find out more about them, Lucretius, and vampirism.
“How old are you?” I asked.
Lucretius smiled.
“I knew you’d ask me that.”
He stood up and had me follow his tall, lanky frame into his bedroom. A myriad of paintings adorned the walls, all framed and hung without uniformity. Scattered beautifully on the walls were paintings from Renoir, Picasso, Rembrandt, and old frescoes, which looked straight from an art encyclopedia. He had three walls stacked with books. Some new, some old, and some that looked as if they’d turn to dust if anyone so much as blew on them with a puff.
“I’ve lived through every period of life which this art was created in.”
I decided to take a wild guess.
“You are...600 years old?”
Lucretius shook his head.
“Less?”
He rolled his right wrist into an upwards motion.
“More?” I said, with humorous surprise. “1,000 years old?”
He shook his head again.
“No? Lucretius...Lucretius...Lucretius...are you Greek?”
“Roman,” he said.
“Two thousand years old? What the hell?”
“You’ve heard of my work?” he asked, with mild elation.
“Sorry, no. I have heard of your name, but you know, television, internet...no time to read,” I said, with a slight shrug. “They don’t show history on the History Channel anymore, hell, they don’t even show Hitler. Just trucker shows and rednecks who manage to find old valuable guitars inside marshes which they can sell at an auction and use the proceeds to build motorcycles.”
“I am envious of your life, Jack. You have been very successful in managing to live with humans. But you are some sort of a nomad, too; you have managed to successfully drift, it seems,” Lucretius said.
“Yeah, I kind of escape from the world. But you seem to be doing the best you can up here,” I added.
“What I do, which you seem to have done somewhat yourself, is isolate myself from the world, enjoying nature, and enjoying solitude. Letting time slow down. I know that sounds antithetical to a life of longevity, but if life is moving too fast, you know you are living life to the fullest, and that is usually accompanied with wants which are being fulfilled, but all wants eventually lead to a feeling of loss. Loss is painful, loss leads many to their deaths, whether self-inflicted or as a result of their loss.”
I began to think deeply about Lucretius’ words. I’d had my share of loss with relationships throughout the years with people who eventually drifted away or passed away. They hurt like hell. In the end, they shaped me to become a more “humanized” vampire. But I’d never really felt love. Holly was the first woman I’d met who had made me feel that all or nothing approach to developing and maintaining a relationship. According to Lucretius and Chuck—that scraggly vampire I met in Louisiana, years ago—my feelings of wanting love could only lead to horrific things for someone of my nature.
“Jack, we live long lives. Humans and vampires have similar brains. Loss is a tiring and draining exercise in futility. A shorter lifespan gives an illusion of adaptation to loss. They say it makes them stronger. For us, a life of reoccurring loss can only mean enduring a long, drawn out life of torture.”
For some reason, I thought of that New Orleans writer’s tragic main character, Louis de Pointe du Lac. He was always such a downer. He was constantly afflicted by all the loss in both his human and vampiric lives. Even to the point of suicide.
“What do I do with my life then?” I asked, trying to make sense of Lucretius’ endorsement of complete detachment.
“Live it to the fullest,” he said, with a glowing smile.
“Love is living to the fullest, though.”
“No, knowledge, learning, fucking, eating, sleeping, and killing is living to the fullest. No commitment, just living.”
“Killing?”
“Of course, our lust for the kill is no longer practical, but we can revel in it when the right opportunity presents itself.”
“What opportunity would that be?” I asked.
“When a cretin is trying to pierce your heart with an arrow, stake, sword, gun, or dagger. You may revel in his death, then you can quench your natural state.”
“I don’t like to kill,” I said. “I don’t eternally punish temporary states of being.”
“Again, your will is commendable and strong. You’re very unique, Jack.”
“Thank you,” I said. “So, what was the deal with that test down there in the forest. I could’ve killed those men, you know?”
“Pardon our prejudice, but we’ve never encountered a vampire like you. Vampires, like humans, tend to not trust what is different. It’s a cursed trait from our evolutionary past which is rooted in tribalism. We saw you and thought that someone as effeminate and urbanized as you wasn’t up to the rigorous tasks of being a Jiang-Shi. You proved your worth, and proved our ignorance wrong.”
“Effeminate, huh?”
“More like dainty,” he said.
Lucretius walked out into the large opening in the temple and sat on his pillow, crossed his legs and closed his eyes. I followed him reluctantly, as I became somewhat attached to the artifacts, art, and the books he had in his room.
“You may stay in there if you like,” Lucretius said.
“How did you know I wanted to stay in your room?” I asked, surprised at his intuition.
“Get some rest, you need it,” he said, as he seemingly went into a trance-like state. “Tomorrow, I will teach you the way of the Jiang-Shi.”
Chapter Ten
I woke up to Milton’s voice again. This time, he was giving his report to Lucretius in the common room of the temple. I stood up from the bed and hurriedly walked into the middle of their conversation.
“The scouts came back with no information. They covered 20 square miles and there was nothing out of the ordinary,” Milton said.
Lucretius stood
pensively, his finger on his chin.
“I don’t know if we should leave this place or wait it out. I don’t think they know we are here. If we all leave in a group, we risk suspicion.”
“I don’t think they know we’re here either,” Milton said confidently.
Milton made eye contact with me as I leaned against the archway of Lucretius’ room.
“You decided if you want to stick around with your own kind?”
“Maybe,” I said. “I want to do the crazy shit you do in your dreams and maybe then I’ll change my mind.”
“It ain’t easy,” Milton said, with a mischievous smile. He turned to Lucretius and asked with a smirk, “Did he spill the beans?”
Lucretius slowly walked to his study and grabbed the envelope with the location of the pharmaceutical manufacturer.
Milton took the envelope from Lucretius’ hand and proceeded to give me a playful bow.
“Thank you,” he said, a smile from ear to ear, revealing his long, ivory-colored fangs.
“Have you heard from Jenny about Holly and Ted?” I asked.
“They are doing fine. I told them to wait a day or two while I made arrangements for Holly’s return to Hong Kong; from there I can arrange an export company to take her back.”
“How do you intend on doing that?” I asked, more concerned than curious.
“We have contacts, don’t worry.”
“Are they trustworthy?” I asked.
“Look, quit worrying. You really don’t have a choice in the matter, do you?”
Lucretius intervened between our childish pettiness,
“Jack, it will be okay. Holly will be taken care of, we’re not scoundrels.”
“It’s not you that I don’t trust you, in particular. This guy over here has already gone back on his word a few times.”
Milton rolled his eyes and refused to snap back.
“Okay, I’ll let you two bond a little more. I promised the guys a real hunt tonight. I’ll be back in the early morning, hopefully, you’ll be able to at least say hello in someone’s dream when I’m back.”
