by Drew D'Amato
“That restaurant, Sarah’s.”
All three of their faces changed from excitement to shock and disbelief.
“Is something wrong?” Vlad asked.
“I was excited when I talked to you this morning,” Malachi said. “I thought we were going to battle, that you had something planned. That we were going to kill something.”
“We will—our appetites,” he said with a smile and then realized no one else looked amused. “I guess I’m not selling you guys.”
“Vlad,” Michael started. “I have no motivation to go to some restaurant that is owned by the father of the girl that you think is your beloved Elizabetta in her next life. I’d rather watch Lifetime.”
“Look, we’ll just go and get something to eat, shop, and take a day off from everything.”
“I’ve got better things to do, I’m sorry master,” Michael said. “And I will not get anything done by having lunch and watching you make a fool of yourself. Which is what you are going to do, by the way.”
“I won’t make a fool of myself.”
“Oh what are you going to say to her? Do I look familiar? Do you remember me from a past life? I’m going to stay here and make some calls,” Michael said as he took a hit off of his cigarette and then turned to walk down the hall into the kitchen in the middle of the house.
“Fine, I’m not going to force you to do anything like this. Jericho, how about you?”
“I don’t know, I’m kind of tired. I haven’t gone to slept yet. Malachi and I have been up all night,” Jericho said.
“Yeah, what did you guys do?”
“Got some beer, drank it, met some hookers, fucked them, met their pimps, and ate them,” Malachi said with a straight face.
“Well sounds like a good night. All right Jericho, you and Malachi can go back to bed. I’ll go by myself.”
As Jericho walked back upstairs Malachi stayed and noticed Vlad’s face had lost its touch of excitement it had to it this morning.
“Master I’m not tired, I’ll go there with you,” Malachi said.
“This isn’t a joke?”
“No, I for one, would love to be there when you make a fool out of yourself.”
3
Vlad and Malachi sat opposite each other in a booth near the bar. They both had a Guinness in front of them trying to fit in with the Irish theme of the bar. They looked European to their waitress. She stood at the hostess stand talking to the hostess after she put in their orders. The two pondered if they would leave her good tip, sometimes Europeans left nothing. It’s not the custom over there.
“So I’ve noticed, Vlad, you don’t really communicate with the rest of the vampires in your house. Why is that?” Malachi asked Vlad.
“No exact reason. I don’t like this idea of having a huge family of vampires. I would rather keep the family small, but this war obviously made it so that the family has to be this size.”
“Is that why we are not making anymore vampires now?”
“One of the reasons.”
“Michael is not too happy about this. He thinks you are making a mistake, that we are becoming too vulnerable.”
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown. But make no mistake, I want to take Radu down. However, I think if we get another large family, we will just feel too safe to do anything about it, and stay like this for another few centuries. Now we have fear, and fear, trust me, is a great motivator. As far as the vampires I have now, I’d rather have them not know what I am thinking. Keep them at a distance. It makes me look more powerful and mysterious.”
“You also look miserable to them. Vlad, you’ve lived too long to be miserable.”
“Maybe that is why I am miserable. Don’t forget I have another three hundred years on you. I have done everything I ever wanted and I have everything I want. There is nothing left for me except killing Radu and maybe getting to know this girl.”
“You know what I do to stay happy? I have fun. I get to know my young vampires. Some of them are interesting. We go to clubs, we have fun, we enjoy life.”
“When Radu is dead I will enjoy life again.”
The waitress came over and placed their meals on the table, a bacon cheeseburger for Malachi and a steak for Vlad. Malachi grabbed his half-pound bacon cheeseburger, and Vlad cut his knife into his bleeding red steak. There was some purple to it and the inside was a little cold. Malachi bit into his burger that was still red and bleeding a little bit.
“Overcooked?” Vlad asked.
“Yes.”
“So is mine.”
4
Vlad and Malachi finished their meal. They sat in their booth sucking down Guinesses, talking, and waiting for any sign of Jasmine.
“You know as much fun as this has been, getting drunk and shooting the shit, I’m getting bombed and it’s only one-thirty, I’m going to need sleep. I mean, I don’t need it, but I sure as shit would like it,” Malachi said.
“You want to get out of here?”
“C’mon, we’re accomplishing nothing here except looking like a homosexual couple.”
“All right, hold on.”
Vlad waved his hand signaling for the check to the waitress. She came by and dropped the check off. She turned to leave when Vlad touched her hand, and she turned back to him. His hand felt cold to her, as if someone just put an ice cube on it.
“Excuse me, is Jasmine O’Reilly here? I’m an old friend of hers.”
“No, she’s off today, she only works like one or two days a week, and the rest of the time she spends mostly at school. Sorry.”
The waitress walked away. Malachi turned his head from looking at the waitress to looking at Vlad with a bounce to the move.
“She’s not even here. You brought me here for nothing.”
“I didn’t know. Well, we had fun.”
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Malachi said without any patience.
The bill came to seventy-six dollars and some change. Vlad placed a hundred down and got up from the table. The two of them walked out of the restaurant. The waitress was happy about the tip, but still thought they were kind of weird.
Outside the restaurant Vlad’s blue ’67 Shelby Mustang sat parked in the back parking lot. The two walked to the car. The day was partly cloudy.
“Vlad, you want to drive? I’m exhausted?”
“No problem.”
Vlad liked the top down, he liked convertibles, and he liked this car. Being unable to feel hot or cold made any day without rain a good day to have the top down. Vlad opened the driver’s door and placed himself behind the wheel. Malachi jumped into the passenger seat without the use of the door. Vlad turned the ignition. The rev of the engine settled well in their bones. Vlad backed out, straightened the car and then peeled out.
Malachi rested his head back in the car and closed his eyes.
Vlad looked at the people walking on the street as they drove through the shopping district. Then out of nowhere he spotted her, walking by herself, with an Urban Outfitters bag in her hand. Vlad turned the car to the right making a commitment toward her and stopping just short of the curb.
“What the hell are you doing?” Malachi asked disturbed by the sudden movement.
“I see her.”
“Oh that’s great, tell her I said hi,” Malachi said as he tried to go back to sleep.
Vlad popped out of the car and walked toward her. She turned her head to look at him after she noticed his sudden arrival from the street.
“Excuse me,” Vlad said.
She looked him with a slight trepidation. “Yes?”
“Hi, I was wondering why a good Catholic girl like yourself would be walking these streets unescorted on a day like this?” Vlad asked. What a horrible line Vlad thought to himself as soon as he said it, but he had no idea of what else to say to her.
“How did you know I was Catholic?”
“Well, your cross helped give it away.” He looked down at her neck at the crucifix around it and a
lso caught a quick glimpse of her well-sized breasts, probably a C-cup. “And I saw you last Sunday at St. Michaels, you gave me communion.”
“Oh, now I remember you. Well, I was just busy doing some shopping for myself.”
“Let me be a gentlemen and introduce myself. My name is Vlad.”
“Well that’s a unique name, Vlad, do you have a last name?” She smiled as she talked. There was something about him that amused her. Maybe just his flat-out confidence and how blunt he acted. Women loved that stuff. That was why so many insecure men found themselves unhappy. Vlad thought quick to come up with a good last name.
“O’Connell, Vlad O’Connell.” That sounded like a horrible name, he thought, but at least it was Irish.
“Well that is a more unique full name. Is Vlad short for Vladimir?”
“Yes.” It wasn’t, but that name sounded a little more from the last century than a name like Vladislov.
“Well that’s a nice name, my name is Jasmine, Jasmine O’Reilly, are you Irish also?”
“Yes.” Another lie.
He wasn’t starting off on the right foot, but Vlad had nothing else to say. What could he tell her, that he was a six hundred year old vampire, and she reminded him of his dead wife? Comparatively, his opening line did not seem that bad.
“Well I have to get going, it was nice meeting you. Maybe I’ll see you at church Sunday,” she said and started to walk away. Vlad couldn’t let her get away like that. This was more than a coincidence. He felt it. He didn’t want to use his tricks, but he would, if he had to.
He touched her arm as she tried to walk past him to get her attention again. She turned and locked eyes with him.
“I would like to get to know more of you. Would it be a problem if you gave me your number?”
She appeared hesitant. She seemed uncomfortable now, maybe even a bit scared. Vlad moved quick. He stepped underneath an awning to a store near the two of them that put him out of the sunlight so he could use his powers. He kept his eyes locked unto hers. The expression on her face had changed. She became more welcoming.
“Well I don’t see why not,” she said amazed at herself for saying that. She didn’t know why, but she was now giving this stranger her phone number.
She started reading off the numbers and Vlad quickly took out his cell phone and saved them.
“That’s my cell phone, it was nice meeting you.”
She walked away from him and down the street. Vlad looked at the number, but he thought to himself that when he called, he would not be able to use any of his tricks. He would have to learn to be a better talker. He put the phone in his pocket and walked back to the Shelby. He felt half happy, and the other half felt like he did just make an ass out of himself.
He got in the car and turned the ignition back on. The car roared like a lion.
“So how’d you do?” Malachi said with his head still lying back and his eyes closed.
“I got her number.”
“Look at you, way to go stud, she’s hot. Now let’s go home.”
Vlad pulled the Shelby out into the street.
“Now don’t actually call her, text her,” Malachi said and Vlad shifted into second gear.
“Why, what if I want to have a conversation?”
“Damn, it’s been a while for you, but dating has changed a bit in the years of this new technological age. Trust me, just send her a text and try to meet up with her. Besides, I heard what you said. My ass you didn’t use any tricks, that shit was horrible. You’re better off speaking as little as you can. At least with texting you can plan out what you’re going to say.”
“All right.”
“Oh and Vlad, next time we go out, let’s kill something.”
FIVE
1
It had been three days since Vlad had his first conversation with the young Jasmine O’Reilly. Malachi told him enough time had passed to now send her a text and told him what to say, but he still couldn’t do it. He found himself somewhat afraid. Afraid it would fail. And then the dream would be dead. If he met her later, after the war, things could be different. He would be human then. He could be honest—or at least moreso.
She had given him a reason to end this war, more than he had before. The tumblers of fate appeared to finally be falling into place. He would kill Radu, he would become human again, and he would get his love back. Out of all three, the one he found himself most nervous about was losing her.
He looked at his phone.
He had no idea what the hell he was doing.
His men were keen to dating these days. They met up with girls all the time. Vlad had lost his lust for meaningless sex a while back. He had tried to love again years ago, but it turned into a nightmare. It was just before the start of the French and Indian War. He had fallen for a young British blonde while he and Jericho lived in Philadelphia. The woman was named Rose. She was just twenty-three, but unmarried and that was an old age to be single during that era. He met her as she washed her family’s clothes in the river.
Vlad owned a plantation then. He did not own slaves in quite the way the colonists did, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to work himself. He purchased slaves and gave them a place to work, but also a place to stay, personal quarters, a steady pay, and most importantly, the choice to leave whenever they wished. He didn’t buy slaves, he bought people who came off slave ships against their will, freed them, and allowed them the opportunity to be his employees. The plantation helped explain how he had so much money, and also gave him more income.
People questioned it. He told them his system worked great and his employees were loyal. Where else would they want to go? The North American continent was not too welcoming to them. The slaves lived on the land, had their own families, and some were even educated by tutors Vlad paid for. In exchange, Vlad made a much smaller profit than what slave owners did, but it didn’t bother him. This relationship carried on well for almost a century.
Rose’s father had no problem marrying his daughter to a wealthy plantation owner, and everything seemed fine. But you can only let people get so close when you have so much to hide. He didn’t know the full effects the Blood of the Betrayer had on him. But he would learn with Rose, by committing an act he would never forgive himself for. One thing he learned from that experience with Rose was that vampires were not capable of love, so what option was left for him? Casual sex did not really appeal to him, he had outgrown it.
If he became human again though, everything would change. Everything could be possible. But what could he do? Did he put her off, wait until the time was right? Life waited for no one. What if by the time he managed to kill Radu, Jasmine had already moved on? History is windows of opportunity where some things happen, and some things don’t.
Malachi got him caught up on the current dating entiquette. Text, don’t call; keep it light, ask to meet up for drinks, don’t get too deep, don’t text too often, and most importantly don’t care. It all seemed so opposite from the code of chivalry he was raised with. Michael did not seem too much behind the entire idea of him dating. There were bigger issues—and he was right. There are a lot of things more important than love, but not much that is more powerful.
He sat at his desk staring at the phone thinking about what to say. After all the possible starters he just went with: Hey what’s up.
Then Jericho and Malachi walked into his office. Malachi looked dressed ready to hit the town in a red silk shirt with a long collar and a black tight Calvin Klein jacket on. His hair stood spiked and gelled. He wore a shining platinum watch, a figoro necklace around his neck, and two earrings in each ear. Jericho also appeared ready for a wild night. He wore his black jacket over his black Armani shirt. They both noticed Vlad looking at his phone.
“What’s going on, did Radu call?” Jericho asked.
“I texted her.”
“When?” asked Malachi.
“Just now.”
“See how long it takes her to respond.”
“It depends on her. Vlad, these days it’s not like you impress them, or court them, or win them over.”
“Then what is it about?”
“Not fucking it up. Don’t text too much, don’t text too little. Don’t try too hard, don’t be boring. Don’t be mean, don’t be a pussy.”
“So be nothing.”
“Kinda Zen, I know, but women know what they are looking for, you just gotta hope that you’re it. Let it go at their pace. Besides, a little bit of a challenge is attractive.”
“So just be myself?” Vlad asked.
“No, fuck that,” Jericho said. “Yourself is a six hundred year old vampire that is infatuated with her because she reminds you of your dead wife. You can’t let her think that.”
“So what do I want her to think?”
“Well she will think you are old. Not almost six-hundred, but at least in your forties, and she’s in her twenties. If you want to make a good impression, let her think you are rich, a prince. That’s not too far from the truth.”
“I told her I was Irish.”
“And you are, but you are also the descendent of royalty from Eastern Europe, Prussia in fact. She might even think that is still a country.”
“What do you think, Malachi?”
“An older man with money and class that attract her, compared to the immature men just out of college that she is dealing with. Tell her who you are, but don’t stress it, don’t look like you’re bragging; and then maybe ask her to meet you for some drinks. Keep it casual.”
