The Blood That Bonds

by Christopher Buecheler

  Theroen shook his head. “No, not at first anyway. Eventually you will come to understand, or to rationalize... it depends on who you talk to. At first it will likely be hard for you. I do not think, though, that your current thirst will let you wait, and that is perhaps for the best.”

  A moment passed. Two sighed. He was right.

  “There was a town, in a little valley, surrounded by trees. I saw it on the night when this all started. You took me there.”

  Theroen nodded.

  “There, then. If we’re ending what was started that night, we might as well do it there.”

  Theroen stood and grinned. It was like sun breaking through on a grey morning. “A good idea. We shall go there. As beautiful as you look in that gown though, Two, I think you may find your old dressing habits more suitable to this line of activity. I will meet you in the garage.”

  He departed. Melissa remained.

  “Who did you want to start with, Two? Who were you talking about?”

  “Someone I should probably just forget.” Two opened the closet and peered at the clothes within. “Someone who maybe deserves worse than even I can give him.”

  Melissa raised her eyebrows, then shrugged. If Two didn’t want to talk about it, that was okay. She turned to leave.

  “Will I see you there, Melissa?” Two did not turn to look, but her voice betrayed more nerves, more fear, than perhaps she had intended.

  “Do you want me there, Two?”

  “I’m going to cry, when... I hate crying. Theroen’s so old.”

  “He’s above it all.” Melissa understood. Two could hear it in her voice.

  “Are you?”

  “Nearly so, but I still remember. Two, I’ll be there if you want me to be there.”

  “Theroen’s car won’t fit us.”

  Melissa smiled. “I’ve cars of my own. A pretty little turquoise BMW, for one. I know where you’re going.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Is it hard for you to ask, Two?”

  Two nodded.

  “Then I’ll ask. May I come with you, Two? I’d like to be there, but I thought you might want only Theroen.”

  Two turned to her, smiled, clearly fighting against tears. “Yes. Thanks. I’m scared, Melissa.”

  “It will be beautiful, Two. You’ll understand soon. I’ll see you in town.”

  It was only after Melissa had departed that Two thought again of that look of melancholy, those tear tracks on her cheeks.

  * * *

  Theroen leaned against the edge of the Ferrari, staring out into the night beyond the light spilling from the mansion’s garage. On the perimeter of their land, a twelve-foot wrought-iron fence served to dissuade most random visitors. The persistent few found the yard patrolled, during daytime hours, by a pack of vicious rottweilers, mammoth dogs with jaws capable of crushing human bones to powder. Those who chose to leap the fence at night rarely made it to the front door before Tori found them.

  The mansion was not without human visitors, though. Abraham maintained contact with men in high places, mortal and immortal alike, though for those of the former type he disguised his own nature with both costumes and hypnosis.

  There were the servants, as well. Men and women who arrived once or twice a week during daylight hours to clean the house and tend the grounds. The rottweilers knew them, and allowed them entry. They were unaware of the nature of their employers, and knew only that some rooms were off limits, locked to them. They were paid very well for their discretion, and Theroen had never had any dealings with them that were not pleasant. He met with them periodically, during the early morning hours, fighting off the sleep and the pain of the sunlight, in order to read their minds and be certain of their loyalty.

  Some vampires kept servants -- slaves essentially -- in thrall to them, bound by drops of blood and convinced that someday, if they behaved properly, they too could become vampires. Absurd, of course. The vampires of all but the Burilgi line were very picky in their choice of fledglings. To become a servant to another creature, in itself, made these thralls the most unlikely choice for an heir.

  “Hypocrite.” The tiniest whisper of his own voice, a bitter smile. Was he not a servant to Abraham? Had Two not been a servant to her pimp. Was she not, now, his own servant, dependent upon him for instruction and for blood?

  This last he doubted, and this gave him satisfaction. Two had been the proper choice. She was with him out of desire, not desperation, and would remain so for as long as such desire continued. This might be a decade, might be a millennium. Regardless, it was more pure than the bond which held him to Abraham.

  He believe that, with luck, it might last half a millennium or more. Long enough, perhaps, to finally bury Lisette.

  * * *

  The dresses had made Two aware of her own femininity. These clothes made her aware again of the allure of her own body. Tight, slate colored jeans, a white baby-doll midriff, a black leather jacket. She felt strong, comfortable, desirable. Theroen’s double-take as she entered the garage reinforced this.

  “Be still my heart,” He commented as she slipped into the leather interior of the Ferrari. Two smiled. He sat down beside her and started the car. “Is Melissa coming?”

  Two nodded, then bit her lip. “I asked her to. Or she asked me, but I wanted ... I’m scared, Theroen.”

  “I understand. You need not fear though, Two.” But, of course, this was absurd. Of course she would fear this, willingly driving off to take a mortal life. Hadn’t he balked, screaming in terror and disgust on his first night, clawing at his new father as the grinning demon forced the human upon him?

  But that was so long ago, so far away. Lisette’s screams seemed so much closer.

  Two’s newly enhanced senses were better able to cope with the speed of the Ferrari, but still the world was a blur. The car glided along the dark roads, top down, the sound of the wind like the crashing of a waterfall. Two’s hair streamed out behind her. She felt the big, stupid grin back on her face despite the evening’s forthcoming events. The car was simply too amazing not to appreciate.

  Behind them, now and then, there was a flash of lights. Melissa’s roadster could not hope to compete with Theroen’s, but it was by no means a slow car either, and she drove it with an abandon that concerned even Theroen. At one point he slowed somewhat, and she caught up with them immediately, pulling alongside, grinning wildly, barely watching the road. Theroen stomped on the gas pedal, flying ahead of her, and slowed again. Melissa pulled back to their side, middle finger extended, laughing.

  His words, made audible by the force of his thought, cut through the wind. “Please do not feel we’re making light of this, Two. It is just that we are both excited nearly beyond containment. We cannot help being joyful. We know very well what you are soon to experience.”

  Two, who felt that the closest Theroen might approach to “excitement beyond containment” was mild enthusiasm, remained skeptical. She was not offended, though. Quite the contrary, Theroen’s games with Melissa helped to ease her mood. These beings had been doing this thing for hundreds of years. If they could take it so lightly, perhaps their words about the effect of the blood was true.

  * * *

  They covered the fifty miles to the small town in less than half an hour, came to a stop in the parking lot of a small park just outside of its boundaries, shut off their engines, got out of the cars. Melissa was giggling like a little girl, perched on the hood of her BMW, looking at the two of them.

  “I love this century! We don’t do that nearly enough, Theroen.”

  For his part, Theroen was smiling broadly. He nodded.

  “I don’t know how the hell you guys do it.” Two was also smiling. She felt out of breath. “I couldn’t see a thing.”

  “You will continue to change as the blood works on you body, Two. In a few decades, you may be able to drive like Melissa.”

  “No one drives like me!” Melissa laughed, leapt to her feet, twirled circles on the road in the moonlight, st
aring upward at the stars.

  “Well, perhaps not exactly like Melissa,” Theroen conceded.

  “I’m thirsty. Who’s going first, here? Two? Theroen?”

  “What about you, Melissa?” Two questioned.

  “Nah. I’ll wait and go into Manhattan. I might take an appetizer up here, but what I really want is to find some cute little sixteen year old thing with big boobs and too much makeup. I’m going to get her all drunk and seduce her.” Melissa’s smile had a wicked edge to it. Two looked at her, eyebrows raised. Melissa laughed at the expression.

  “What? All vampires have to be like mister ‘no, heterosexual food only, please’ over there? I’m equal opportunity, bed and blood. Whatever strikes my fancy.”

  Theroen put a hand to his brow and shook his head, but Two could see humor warring with, and eventually winning out over, the look of disapproval he was attempting

  “I guess I’ll go first.” Two sighed. Theroen touched her cheek lightly, smiled, turned and began to walk down the road. Two fell in next to him, Melissa next to her. They moved toward the town, and the unsuspecting humans who slept there.

  * * *

  “This reminds me of my first time,” said Melissa as they walked. “I mean... not with a guy but, you know, like drinking blood and everything. After Abraham made me, he sent me out with Theroen, and said he could teach me everything I needed to know.”

  “I am more your patron, in most ways, than that ancient...” Theroen began. Melissa interrupted him.

  “We know how you feel about Abraham, Theroen. Shut up and let me tell my story!”

  Two laughed. The expression on Theroen’s face was typical of an older brother. Exasperated, and yet she saw a great deal of love there as well.

  “As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, Theroen took me to the city, took me to a brownstone. Hmmm... maybe I should start at the beginning?”

  “Will it lessen the deluge of words you no doubt have prepared, if you structure your thoughts first, I wonder?” Theroen’s voice was wistful as he looked up at the stars. Two laughed, then clapped a hand over her mouth, looking at Melissa with bright eyes.

  “You’re no better than he is.” Melissa tossed her hair playfully. “Fine, fine. If you don’t want to hear my story, we’ll just walk in silence. Or maybe Theroen could think of something more structured. Accounting, or law, or something.”

  “I want to hear the story, Melissa. Honestly.” Two tried to look apologetic, succeeded only in half-stifling another burst of laughter.

  “I don’t know how Abraham found me. Neither does Theroen. Or if he does, he won’t tell me. I don’t know why he made me what I am. I was twenty-three, working in the garment district. I made clothes. I was a seamstress. It was eighteen-seventy-two, and they paid me two dollars a week. Can you believe that?”

  “A week?”

  “A week. I lived in that dirty, rat-infested pile of bricks in Brooklyn, and I worked for two dollars a week in Manhattan. My whole family worked there, except my father. He died when I was just a little girl.

  “When I said I loved this century, I meant it. It’s so clean now! Even Manhattan. Even the dirty parts. The streets aren’t filled with mud and manure. I can drive my pretty little car wherever I want to go. I can buy perfume and beautiful clothes and, if I want, I can walk around in nothing but a bikini, and no one will even say anything. Girls do it in the summer all the time.”

  Two found it fascinating, this new take on what seemed such mundane aspects of life. She realized that even given her love of art, she had remained wholly grounded in her twenty-first century world. Melissa was not of this time, and her amazement at things Two had always taken for granted was refreshing.

  “One evening as I left the building, there was Theroen, standing in front of me. He said that my presence was urgently requested by a great lord, and beckoned toward a carriage. Even then, he had a taste for fast vehicles. There were six huge horses tied to that carriage, each of them worth more than I would ever earn in my life. Big wheels with wooden padding on the axles to remove some of the shock.

  “It still bounced and jostled something awful, but he drove it like a madman anyway. Oh, of course I went. There was no doubt that he did represent some wealthy lord. The carriage alone proved it. And when the rich beckon, well... it was always wise to follow.

  “I was totally unaware of what was going on right up until he put his fangs into me.”

  She looked at Two and shook her head, her smile sad. “It was pretty disgusting, but it didn’t stop me from, you know... like right then and there.”

  Two nodded, glanced up at Theroen, her face coloring slightly. Theroen seemed absorbed in contemplating the moon.

  “He drained me all the way, and then gave me some of his blood. I didn’t wake up like you did, though. No, his blood was... it hurt me. Really badly, actually, even though he gave it in three or four doses. I remember I was screaming, and then it was dark, and then it was four days later, and I don’t remember any of them.”

  Melissa’s voice, normally so happy, now trembled.

  “I can’t even feel her!” She cried, then bit her lip in frustration. “I only know she’s there because Theroen tells me about her, and because sometimes I wake up and I know it’s been more than one day. I’ll wake up in new clothes. I’ll wake up and find horrible pictures spread out on the bed. She likes terrible things. Things with needles and knives and hooks. I’m only glad I can’t remember how she eats. I don’t want to know.”

  “She is not a part of you, Melissa.” Theroen’s voice was soothing. He was still looking at the moon.

  “Really, Theroen? She cut me, the other day. She cut me from the back of my wrist up to my shoulder, half an inch deep, and then... went back. Let me in. I woke up all of a sudden, standing outside in the woods, with my whole arm feeling like it was on fire, pouring blood. Poor Tori was having conniptions. I don’t know what I was being punished for.

  “She hates me. She hates me because she can’t escape from me, and if she can’t escape from me, then she must be a part of me.”

  Theroen was quiet. He turned away from the moon, looked down at the road. He seemed to have no answer to this.

  Two spoke up. “If she’s a part of you, Melissa, she’s a part that was supposed to be buried. Abraham’s blood woke her up, but she’s not a part of you that was ever supposed to... to function. She’s like a set of wisdom teeth that never come in, but never need to be pulled, except Abraham pushed them forward. She’s like a benign tumor, except Abraham made it malignant. You see?

  “We’ve all got parts of us that are dormant. They don’t affect us, even subconsciously. But I guess the right shock can wake them up. But she’s not a part of you, she’s a wrongful addition. You were already complete to begin with.”

  Melissa seemed to take some consolation in this. She stopped, hugged Two, and kissed her cheek. “Thanks. I thought I was supposed to be tagging along to comfort you!”

  Two smiled. “You are. Glad I could return the favor.”

  * * *

  The trio crested a hill, stopped for a moment, looked down upon the town below them. Melissa turned to Two.

  “I swear to God, I don’t know why Abraham makes us live so far outside of the city. Look at this. It’s eleven o’clock and almost every light in the town is out!”

  Two shrugged. Behind her, Theroen laughed.

  “That is precisely why he has us live so far outside of the city, Melissa. It allows us some privacy, away from prying eyes. We lived in Manhattan during the first century we spent here, and it caused us nothing but trouble. I personally had to dispatch four intrepid vampire hunters, and one priest.”

  “Priest.” Two looked up at him. “You never finished telling me about how you became a vampire, Theroen.”

  “Did you tell her about Father Leopold?” Melissa laughed, peals of silver in the night.

  “Father Leopold.” Theroen’s voice held a smile as well. “No, I don’
t believe we reached that point in the story. Father Leopold is almost personally responsible for my vampirism. I say almost because modern science and psychology have helped me to understand that his actions were probably not entirely under his control.

  Two looked at Theroen, head tilted, saying nothing. Melissa sat down on the curb under a streetlight, leaned back on her arms, stretched.

  “We have time, Theroen,” she said.

  “Are you that anxious to hear it again, Melissa? I recall -- only a few years ago -- you shouting something along the lines of ‘forget that dead pope’ at me.”

  “That’s only because you were in one of your theological phases, with all the questioning about God and all that crap. I was tired of it.” Melissa’s teeth gleamed, her smile having returned from its earlier departure.

  “Ah. Yes. God and all that crap. Exactly what I was obsessed with at the time Abraham brought me into darkness.”

  “He talks like some Goth poet wannabe. Have you heard him talk about sex?” Melissa’s tone was conspiratorial, but Two knew Theroen had heard it, despite appearing not to notice. She covered a smile with her hand.

  “Father Leopold had one outstanding flaw which put him somewhat at odds with the church, though he had gone to great pains to make sure the church was unaware of it. I would likely have been his undoing, if not for my encounter with Abraham. Father Leopold, it turns out, was very fond of young men with a fervent belief in God.”

  “Oh, no...” Two was smiling, shaking her head.

  “It took five years. I was under his tutelage for that long, from the age of eighteen to twenty-three. I can honestly say I never knew, and never saw it coming. We were closing up the cathedral for the night. It was dark. Empty and warm. I have the suspicion that Leopold may also have been availing himself of some drink that night.” Theroen paused, rolled his eyes. “I assure you, there are few things more surprising in life than an unexpected kiss from a middle-aged priest. One of those things, though, would be the feel of his hand pressing against your groin.”