Van studied Saldivar, searching for the slightest hint that this was a gambol. This was absurd. Saldivar was just taunting him. But all Van could find was genuine concern in his amber eyes.
Still, years of disappointment on the streets fed the misgivings in his mind. It seemed part of his very bones now. “What if I do not want you help?” Van asked cautiously with a hard undertone.
“Then you will die,” Saldivar replied candidly.
CHAPTER III
Die.
Dead.
Death.
The very thought of it petrified Van into near shock. Surely it could not be true. His ears must be betraying his mind. He felt he was too young to die. But what else could he possibly do? Live an eternity? His brain couldn’t fathom forever. He still didn’t know if this whole thing was a fabrication.
There has to be another way, Van pondered to himself. Maybe there was some special medicine to help him live out a normal life and just die of old age. Forever or death could not be the only options left to him.
Indubitably, Saldivar must be mistaken. Van refused to believe the inevitable. He must. Having death knocking on his proverbial doorstep would certainly put most things in perspective. He had not yet experienced life. How he lived his life now was no life. He went through the motions of eating and breathing and sleeping, but they felt mechanical. He did it because he had to, to stay alive. He meant the kind of life full of fun, a home to be able to call his own, a wife and children. This cannot be the end of his pathetic life. There had to be a doctor who could help. There must be a cure.
Saldivar is just trying to frighten me, Van decided. He was doing a fine job of it then. Did he want go ahead and answer the door? Will death be waiting for him on the other side?
No. There had to be an antidote for him out there somewhere. Van tried unsuccessfully to convince himself of the possibility.
“That is not possible, Van,” Saldivar said dolefully. “I am very sorry. There is no remedy for your blood disease. Your blood is dying. Slowly, but eventually, all of you will die.”
Van somehow knew he had to make a decision. What Saldivar said had to be true. How else would he have known all those things about him? No one but himself knew of the problems he had been having. He talked to no one about his illness that now had a name and a cure if he took Saldivar’s advice. Things were not the same any more. His life had been turned upside down. He needed to think long and hard about this new found information. He knew for a fact he did not want to die.
But live forever? he asked himself silently. He shook his head indecisively as if to rid it of all thought.
Saldivar watched as Van quietly fought the war raging in every cell of his body. He knew this was Van’s decision, one that he had to make alone. He could not force this gift upon him. It would be no hard task to do so. But it would only end up with Van resenting him for an eternity and quite possibly Van’s own self demise.
It was a dark gift but a gift just the same. Saldivar wanted to share it with Van. He could bestow Van all the powers he had learned. He hoped Van will understand this in time. For time was running out. Time was precious to Van now and while the decision should not be taken lightly, it should be made soon. He had not long left to live. He would hate it if he lost Van to his own fear of living forever. Dying young was such a tragedy and such a loss. Van had an eternity left to him. Seeing the world. Seeing how it will change from one century to the next.
And the people? There were so many unique characters from all walks of life. Young and old, rich and poor, happy, sad and angry. Loving and supporting.
Van could travel the world. England, Spain; anywhere he wished to go. He could taste of the women for he could have his pick among any gorgeous female in the world. All warm and succulent and willing. Van would never want for anything should he accept Saldivar’s gift.
Saldivar snapped out of his reverie when Van cleared his throat. He saw the fear and uncertainty in Van’s gray eyes. They were clouded with worry. He need not speak. Saldivar knew of Van’s fear…….many centuries ago.
“Believe me, Van,” Saldivar started sympathetically. “I do understand your trepidation. I was there once. But you must take hold of what I have explained to you. None of what I have said has no hint of fantasy. It is very real.” Saldivar clasped his hands together and put them to his chin. “I am certainly not a man who makes up ridiculous notions for humor.” He broke his hands apart in what looked to be surrender. “But, sadly, you do not believe me and I cannot force you to take this gift. And I do wish you would,” he concluded as he placed his hands on his knees.
“Gift? Gift?” Van asked incredulously. “Living forever is a gift? It sounds more like a curse to me.”
The last word stabbed at Saldivar in near excruciation pain. He did not think his way of life a curse. How terrible Van would perceive of it that way. For a fleeting moment, Saldivar was faintly tempted to use his mind to coax Van in the right direction, but he knew he could not. Sad to say, but true.
Van saw the pain in Saldivar’s eyes. Pain he had inflicted with sharp words. He quickly regretted it, feeling shameful that he had even thought of it at all.
“I am sorry I said that. I had no right to make hasty assumptions. I know I cannot say such things because I do not know how it feels to be like you.” Van observed Saldivar. “You seem very much the gentleman. You have everything.” Van pointed to his chest, eyes filled with anguish. “But look at me. Just look at me! I am sick. I must beg on the streets of Paris. I have no family to call upon in desperate times of need. Not even family to visit me if I were wealthy and happy.” Van lowered his head. “I have no one.” He gazed intently into Saldivar’s eyes, wanting him to see. “I am no one.” He paced now. “And now, what is worse is that you say I am most certainly going to die if I’m not transformed. But I have the capability to live forever if I agree to your gift.” He sat back down again.
“You are not a ‘no one’,” Saldivar stated firmly. “You may have no family to call upon but I can be your family along with countless others like me. Sharing my gift with you will make us closer than blood relation, so to speak.”
Van sighed as he stood from his chair. He walked over to the sculptures on the mantle of the fire place. He pointed of the female statuaries. “You did this, did you not? Sculpted these women from real life?”
Saldivar joined Van at the fire place. “Yes. You are wise and have a good eye, mon ami.”
Van swallowed hard. “Did----did you leave those marks on their necks?” he asked, indicating to the two tiny holes apparent on the pulses of the women.
Saldivar studied his sculptures proudly. He had had an eye for sculpting then, and he had good hands for it. He answered, “In a way……yes, I did. You see, biting the flesh of living skin leaves a mark only a short period of time. They heal rapidly. So, I sculpt them soon after feeding. Believe me, they do not mind at all.”
Van’s eyes widened in both shock and fear. Saldivar had killed these poor, innocent women and then sculpted them in order to preserve them in a sick way. That would explain the euphoria frozen on their faces. He killed them at that very moment when they had that look on their unassuming faces. How could he? It was a ghastly way for a vampire to live. He-----
“They are dead, Van. But not by my hands,” Saldivar explained. “Old age claimed them. I sculpted these one hundred years or more ago.”
Van blew out a sigh of relief. Saldivar was not the monster Van thought of him.
“We are not some kind of demon, Van. You will not become one if you were like us.” Saldivar turned away and walked to the window, motioning for Van to follow. “Look out at the world and really study it. Do you not see the turmoil that mortals cause every day? Do you not witness hatred between neighbors? Do they not wish to kill their enemies for the smallest infraction? People reject the unknown. They fear it.
Therefore, they feel they must destroy it.” Saldivar waved a hand towards Van. “Take you, for instance
. You have no money and no home. Nothing. You were forced by fate against you to beg on the Paris streets like a worthless pauper. Therefore, the people thought of themselves as more civilized than you. Better than the countless others in the same plight as you like you were made to be looked down upon. They have wealth and extravagant homes. You have nothing. To them, you are the unknown. The misunderstood. They made you feel inferior with a mere look in their relentless eyes. To them, you are a common shell of a man. You should not be made to feel that way.” Saldivar looked at Van with discernment. “You need not say anything. I feel your shame emanating throughout your heart and soul. Your shame is misplaced. You must know that these wealthy people look upon families with a mediocre background with sneering faces. They are foolish mortals. They have empty thoughts. Shallow minds. Superficial needs. They base their status on earthly possessions, not even considering that these things will be here when they lay in the cold ground, returning to the dust in which they were first created.” Saldivar shook his head and sighed.
Van furrowed his brows, contemplating Saldivar’s keen observance of what he knew to be true as well. He recalled earlier when he was on the street, waiting for and hoping a few people would toss a few coins his way for food. He remembered the way they glanced at him with revulsion, turning their noses up as if looking for more than one reason to look down upon him, to shun him. Women, wrinkling their powdered faces like they could not stand the sight of him. Men, chuckling at him when they sauntered past, mocking him with their riches. The women on the arms of their escorts, throwing coins at him, as if trying to further humiliate him, then giggling like it was some kind of farce. They found his pain and lowliness amusing. He had emotions. He felt things. Probably more so than those unfeeling people who he considered less human than himself. Money does not make a person. It does not give you an inner peace and strength. A giving heart and a kind soul made a person, regardless of their place in this world. Regardless of what kind of blood ran through your veins. You could cut a rich person or a poor one. Each cut would run red. Upon the elite, he believed frigid waters ran through their veins, piercing their shell of a heart, encasing it the way freezing snow would the roof tops of the village.
Saldivar smiled. “Your thoughts have such powerful conviction, Van. Were you on stage giving that incisive speech, I would wager the whole village would stop and listen and absorb your heartfelt words.”
Van’s lips upturned graciously but it was shadowed with doubt. He crossed his arms and stared purposely out the window. “But, Saldivar, you hide from the world because of what you are. I hide from the same because of who I am. Only my hiding place is right out in the open. People look at me but do not really see me. We are the same, you and I, yet we lead two very different lives.
“You respect a world that condemns you. Just as they condemn me. Noses upturned. Sneers, japes and laughs. All at my expense, I might add.” Van threw his arms to the side and faced Saldivar, the only stranger to take pity on him. “I cannot afford their laughter any longer. I cannot even comprehend how you live in such seclusion when you have this house. Your clothes.” He pointed to Saldivar. “Your elegance and sophistication. You would easily be accepted into their circle.”
Saldivar laced his fingers behind his back and walked calmly across the rug in the room, thinking.
After much deliberation, Saldivar halted his steps. A heavy sigh escaped his red lips. “You speak with a heavy heart. One might wonder at your education. Your words are wholly brilliant and very intelligible. Being orphaned at thirteen, my guess is you have learned a lot simply from passers-by, along with what your parents taught you……..don’t you see?” Saldivar’s voice raised a notch. “Such a clever mind should not waste away, buried as you will be buried near your thirtieth year. Why waste it? Why…..when you have an eternity to build upon it?”
Van could clearly see the gleam of animation and conviction in Saldivar’s dark amber eyes but Van had lived with his cynicism so long, it was hard to break away from it.
“Doubt has eaten away at your mind.”
Saldivar’s words were right on target. Van thought for a moment, a frown forming on his face. “Saldivar, I have been wondering for some time now. Why did you trust me to keep your secret?”
Saldivar’s lips curved in the all-knowing expression Van has come to see often in the short time he’s known him. “Think about it. Who would you tell? And would they believe you? If you said the word ‘vampire’, no doubt the men in white coats would put you away and throw out the key. You would have less time to live in the asylum than on the streets. The point of me coming to help would all be for nothing.”
Van sighed, knowing that, once again, Saldivar’s explanation was true. Telling people that he had seen a vampire would warrant a straight jacket and a patted room all to himself. Then and only then would he pray for a quick death. He knew what went on in those awful places. You went in slightly out of your head and came out completely insane. That is, if you made it out alive. Most did not, however.
Van shivered unconsciously. Of course he would not say anything. He had no friends to talk to, to confide in.
“You do have a friend, Van.” Saldivar looked at him intently. “Me. You must understand that I am your friend. I know you have been alone for a very long time and it is so difficult for you to believe me. But, in time, you will. But time is short for you, I am afraid.”
Van glanced down at his feet, not knowing what to think or do or say.
“I tell you what,” Saldivar started, placing a hand on Van’s shoulder. “You do have some time. Why not let me show you my world as I see it? What I do? How I feed? Socialize? I think that will help you come to a better decision. One that you can live with.”
At Saldivar’s suggestion, Van contemplated the idea. It sounded reasonable. What else did he have to lose?
“Your life,” Saldivar told him gravely.
Van’s shoulders sagged in subjection. What could it hurt? Did he really want to go back to living on the streets? Begging for money? Being mocked? Ill used by society?
Saldivar could feel Van’s alleviation. It was evident in his gray eyes. Now all he had to do was convince Van to succumb to everlasting life.
“All right, Saldivar,” Van agreed, extending his arm. “Show me your world.”
CHAPTER IV
In the beginning, Van was overwhelmed by Saldivar’s life. His nightly feedings. The way his teeth pierced the skin of an unsuspecting female. He noted that Saldivar never said ‘victim’ or ‘prey’. That somehow meant torture or death. He was not part of such macabre demeanor. He valued life. He did not destroy it.
As time went on, the overwhelmed feeling was replaced with admiration. Van discovered that Saldivar lived a rather cultured life. He did not make excuses for what he did nor did he apologize for what he was. He was absolutely content with the life he had chosen.
Because of Saldivar’s money, he was respected. Oh, not for his outstanding character or his gracious attitude; just his riches. He paid these people no mind.
Shallow was the term Saldivar used to describe these people. He did not care what they thought of him. Nor was he concerned with being accepted in their circle.
If they only knew. Van smiled inside at the thought. Van also knew it took a great deal of will power to achieve this kind of nirvana. Saldivar had told him a sordid story while they were strolling about his castle during a beautiful, starry night.
*
“Back when I was just a young vampire, I had managed to find a decent place to live,” Saldivar began. “By then, I had made a younger friend named Annabel. She became like a sister to me. I would have done anything for her and she for me. A few weeks later, she moved in to help with costs and just to be near a true friend. As time went on, I acquired two more friends. A man named Jacques and a woman named Lenette. They had moved in. They had promised to help out as well. They were my friends so I didn’t question these promises.
“In the
beginning, it was great. We laughed, enjoyed one another’s company and talked for hours. They did some questionable things that I would not do but I did not judge my friends. After a few months had gone by, things started to unravel. I noticed Jacques and Lenette started getting lax in paying their dues. Lenette constantly complained about how much work and cleaning she was doing when in reality, she did very little. The fact of the matter was that my friend, Annabel and I did everything, including paying all dues. I began getting angry at the fact that Jacques acted like he owned everything around him. He wanted everything his way. He was very spoiled. Lenette was no different. She acted as though she was the servant of the household. In truth, Lenette and Jacques were frauds. They wanted the high life without working or paying for it.
“There was a time Annabel had some kind of temporary head sickness and needed to be watched until it passed. I sacrificed time and money to stay with her. Jacques and Lenette did not care. If it was not about them or if it was not happening to them, it was not worth their time.
“After months and months of this treatment, I started feeling depressed. I had no time to myself. Lenette and Jacques were always wanting something or trying to control Annabel or me. Eventually, I snapped. I had had all I was going to take from those emotional and money hungry leeches with evil souls. I was sorely tempted to drain them dry. They were not friends to me any more. But I kicked them out and told them never to shadow my doorstep again or else.
“I know I should have done that earlier but since I felt a friendship with them at first, I tried giving them a chance to prove themselves. As you can tell, they never did. I heard a couple of years later that Jacques and Lenette were stoned to death in the city for beating an older man nearly to death for his jewels. The man they thrashed was a very important figure. They had no idea or they did not care. Either way, they were justly punished for their crime.
NightFall (NightFall: Book One) Page 4
