Mama told me later that Papa has a lot of love to give and his heart was just so full of love when he saw me it hurt him.
Anyway, while Mama braided my hair, Papa told me I was now a new magic person. Actually, he said, and Papa you know I remember things exactly, he said, “Moniki, you are now my daughter and everything I own is yours. We healed you with ancient magic and now you are our daughter in every way. We shall always take care of you. We will feed you the magic every night and keep you safe with us. But now you will live by the night and sleep in the day. The sun can hurt you now.”
“Why?”
“Because the magic we healed you with is from the night and the sun is from the day,” Mama said.
This made sense to me then, but I was just barely seven you know. I didn’t understand what I understand now.
“Okay,” I said.
“Tomorrow night we will let you select a new bedroom and buy you all new things. You have our love for an eternity. And Moniki, you will always be a little girl. Always seven years old, just as you wished.”
I felt sleepy, but that made me happy. I hugged Papa and kissed him. He held me very close. I knew he was crying because I felt his tears. He and Mama put me on their big bed and lay down with me.
“The sun is rising.” Mama sounded sleepy as she snuggled up to me.
“Until the night,” Papa said and kissed her for a long time on the lips, then kissed my forehead. He pushed this little gold lever that I now know closes all the windows with heavy metal shutters and locks the bedroom doors.
We went to sleep.
And that’s all for now. I have to do my homework.
April 14, 1938
I want to say that I did not mean to make the roses grow up all around the house and make it so the doors and windows wouldn’t open. I only meant to make some big pretty roses for Mama. I mean, the spellbook is in Latin! It’s not easy to read.
Oh, well. I’m grounded again. I found my old journal and I remembered that I was writing my memoirs. I kind of forgot for a while.
Anyway, let me start again…
Papa and Mama were kissing when I woke up the next night. They kiss a lot. Papa was holding Mama in his arms and kissing her neck and she was kissing his. I know what they were doing now, but I didn’t then. I was a dumb little girl. Now I’m a smart little girl.
Anyway, when they saw I was awake, Papa grabbed me and swung me around. He looked so happy and handsome as he kept kissing me on the cheek. Mama brought me a gold cup and made me drink more magic out of it. It was really yummy and red. I liked it much better than chocolate. Anyway, then Mama dressed me up in one of her blouses, making it look like a dress.
And we went shopping.
Papa is very rich. Mama says it comes from living thousands of years. You just end up rich unless you’re really stupid. Oh, yeah, we’re immortal. Never grow old. Never die. It’s hard to get really hurt. One time a bad man tried to hurt me and Mama. He stuck a knife in my stomach. It itched a lot when I pulled it out.
Anyway, Papa had his huge black car take us into Paris. Papa paid some of the shops lots of money to stay open just for us. Papa’s hair was cut short and he had a prickly beard. Mama’s hair was all rolled up and under a fancy hat. She looked pretty. They spent all night dressing me up in clothes and buying me lots of toys. Mama also picked out a lot of furniture for my new bedroom while Papa bought me many books. The sales ladies kept staring at Papa and every time he kissed Mama’s lips or her hand, they would all sigh. All of the ladies thought I was pretty and they kept telling Papa how much I looked like him. Mama thought this was funny. I just didn’t care.
Mama and Papa were mine now. I was theirs. I missed Grandmere, but I knew this is what she wanted. So I was happy. I was glad I looked like my new Papa.
The only sad thing was I missed Monsieur Rat. It didn’t seem fair that he had died just before my new Mama arrived. I didn’t mean to get sad in the car back to the new house in the country, but I started to cry. Papa pulled me on his.
“What is it, Moniki? Why do you cry? What can I do to make you happy again, little one?”
“Papa, I miss Monsieur Rat. He was such a good friend.”
“Who is Monsieur Rat, Moniki?”
I suspect now he wishes he hadn’t asked.
“There was a little white rat in the room when I came through the window. It looked like it was crawling to her, wounded badly, and after I took care of the father, he was gone.” Mama looked at me sadly, rubbing my back. “I think he crawled into the wall.”
“To die? Do you think he is dead, darling? Or should we go look for him?” My new Papa looked so serious and sad too.
“Oh, please, Papa, let’s go look for him!”
“It could not hurt to look for him, love. I only desired to get her to you so we could claim her before the sun rose. That is why I did not look for him last night,” Mama said.
So Papa told the driver to head into my little village and find the little house on the corner. When we got there, it looked so weird. So empty. I guess the police had come and put up tape around the doors and windows on the bottom floor. It looked like they had been digging in the garden.
“They think he killed you, little one, in a drunken rage. He is in the hospital now,” Papa said softly.
“Oh.” What else could I say? I didn’t care anymore. I was with my new Mama and Papa. Anyway, it was nearly true. My stinky old mortal Papa almost did kill me.
Papa and Mama got out of the car and took my hands. Together we walked to the back of the house and looked up at the window that was over my old bed. All of the sudden, the wind pulled us up and into the room. It was so fast, I giggled with excitement. We landed on the bed. Papa looked very angry when he saw my room.
Mama put a hand on his shoulder and whispered, “She is ours now.”
Papa kissed me firmly on the cheek and hugged me tight. “My Moniki.” He smiled softly, then began to look around the room.
Mama got off the bed and began to collect things off my old desk and table. Mama is so smart, she knew just what to get. My favorite books, my rosary (she was careful to pick it up with her gloved hand), and my little picture of Grandmere and me. Papa moved slowly around the room and finally stood with his hands against the wall. He seemed to be listening very hard. Finally, he just punched his hand right through the wall and pulled down the plaster.
And then I saw why.
Mr. Rat was lying on an old towel, folded up and fixed so it would be his mattress and his blanket. He had a little room in the wall. He had a watch set up on a block of wood and he had lots of newspaper articles folded up and held with a paperclip. Papa gently picked him up and made sure he was alive. He looked very sadly at Monsieur’s side.
“His ribs are shattered, darling.”
Mama nodded. “Then we have no choice.”
Papa put his back to me and he did something magic to Monsieur Rat. When Papa turned around, my little friend was sitting on Papa’s hand. When Monsieur Rat saw me, he put out his arms and I grabbed him close and covered him in kisses.
Moniki, you came for me!
I could hear his little voice in my mind and I laughed. “Yes, I came for you, Monsieur Rat.”
Then we will always be together!
I held Monsieur Rat very tightly and kissed him again and again.
Mama and Papa looked at the newspaper clippings and a little notebook inside the wall.
“Moniki, your little friend is an extraordinary little fellow, isn’t he?” Papa said.
“Oh, yes! He used to feed me and help me clean up! He’s very smart and now he can talk!”
Mama studied the notebook for a little longer, then smiled at us.
Papa took Monsieur Rat’s things and put them in his pocket. He picked me up and we flew out the window and back to the car. I climbed inside and snuggled Monsieur Rat on my lap as Mama and Papa got into the car. They both kissed my cheek and hugged me. I felt so happy being cuddled up betwee
n them and I kissed them both.
“I love you, Mama and Papa,” I said.
“And we love you, Moniki,” they both answered.
Now I live with them in this big house with Monsieur Rat. Papa teaches me magic. Mama teaches me school things. Monsieur Rat is learning too. He is very special. He escaped from a top-secret lab run by some bad guys called the Nazis. Soon we are going to go and break out the rest of his family and burn down the lab so they can’t make any more super animals to torture. Because that is what Monsieur Rat is: a super rat and he is the very best of all of them. He told me he picked me to be friends with because I needed him. And he needed me. I really love Monsieur Rat. Papa has his “issues with the rat” because Monsieur Rat has his own agenda and is helping me with mine. Basically, we’ve decided to some night take over the world. I’m not sure Papa knows this yet, but I’m sure he’ll realize it’s a good thing. I’m going to outlaw mean Nazi scientists and mean Papas when I do take over.
Mama and Papa once took me to the cinema to see Bela Lugosi in “Dracula.” Watching the movie, I finally understood the night magic. So I afterwards I said, “Papa, are we vampires?”
Mama looked at Papa and he looked at her. They both nodded, and Papa said, “Yes.”
“Like Dracula?”
“Yes,” Papa said, worried.
“So the magic potion is blood?”
“Yes,” Mama whispered.
“It tastes good,” I said, and they both laughed.
We don’t sleep in coffins, but we can fly. Papa has taught me to light candles by just thinking about it and I can crawl up on walls. Mama has taught me to turn into a mist and promises to show me how to turn into an animal some night. I found out they feed me their blood so I don’t have to go and bite people. I’m sure they have to go bite people, but I never see it. I know they are very old and have lived a long time. Papa says he loved Mama when they were mortals, but when they became vampires they were apart for a long time before Papa found Mama again. He always gets so sad when he talks about this, so I don’t ask a lot of questions. I don’t want him to cry. Mama says she always loved Papa and now that they are together, they will never be apart.
Sometimes Mama and I get all dressed up and go to Paris. Mama says we may need to move somewhere else if the Nazis come, but until then we will take long walks along the Seine. Those walks remind me of the walks with Grandmere. We sometimes pass Notre Dame and I think about God, Jesus, The Virgin and the Saints. They did what Grandmere asked them to do and I’m so happy. God gave me a new Mama and Papa and though I’m not really dead, I’m in my own heaven. I don’t know if I’ll ever really die and go to the real heaven to see Grandmere, but maybe I will.
Anyway, in the meantime, I am happy. And so is Monsieur Rat.
And I think that is what Grandmere always wanted.
Blood and Love
Blood and love.
They are all that matter to me as I linger in the shadows. Even as I stand here in this nightclub that was once a church, high above the dance floor, gazing over the stone railing at the dancers far below me, my thoughts are of blood and love.
Do you know that, my dear mortal one?
The woman, who stands so still beside you and your date, enshrouded in the shadows, can smell your blood and your desire for love. It is a heady mixture. For you see, my little mortal, blood is life to me. Warm and rich, thick and delicious, life-giving and empowering: that is blood. When I feast, the world falls away as life takes hold inside this ancient body.
When the heady rush of feeding dissipates and my skin grows cold as my body once more remembers that it is truly dead. I remember the endless nights of cold and bitter winds that seemed to mirror my own lost soul all too well. So now, when my love looks at me, and I feel my heart beat in my chest and my countenance softens into the smile I grant only him, I feel a swell of joy within me that makes me feel alive.
Do the Undead love?
Oh, yes. Perhaps more fervently, passionately, and frighteningly than any mortal can even imagine. We crave the warmth and humanity it draws from deep within our pale, white undead flesh. It churns the blood we have consumed in our veins, makes our hearts beat, our eyes shine, and our smiles less frightening. We almost seem human.
Almost.
I can see you are infatuated with the one you are with. As the music swirls around us and you lean against the railing watching the floor far below, I can feel your desire for the one you are with. When I glance at you, I see you are smiling broadly, brightly, and desperately. Does your would-be lover love you? Your eyes scream the question.
My lover loves me. I would never doubt it. I would never look so desperately into his eyes.
How do I appear to you? Is my skin too pale? Is my dark hair too long to be fashionable? And what of my dress? Perhaps its long velvet skirt and tight corset suit this time better than any other. Down below me, dancing wildly to the new dark music of this era, the black-garbed figures are clad in leather, lace, and velvet. They remind me of my own kind with their pale skin and dyed hair. They dance with wild abandon. It is almost as if they are frenziedly trying to be alive.
I find it ironic.
I glance at you again. Can you feel the weight of my eyes? My obsidian eyes, which are endlessly deep and mesmerizing.
Ah, no.
You are once again desperately trying to get your date’s attention.
My love is not here. I hunt alone tonight. He sent me away a few days ago from our lovely haven in France. There was no explanation. Sometimes, with my love, there never is. Unlike mortal women, I accept this. We are hunted creatures, my love and I. Despite our stealth and best-laid plans, sometimes we are discovered. Mortals and vampires have hunted us before. We are so old our own kind fears us. So when my love came to me, whispered in my ear that I must go with our progeny and he would follow me in time, I kissed him with all the passion that was within me, then opened my vein to him so he could once more taste my essence.
But in this moment, my dear one, as you press yourself against the one you desire, I feel my own love approaching.
He has crossed an ocean to find me. I knew he would. Our blood has mingled so many times we are forever joined. That he would find me in this dark little nightclub does not surprise me. Where has he strolled tonight? Has he seen Times Square? Has he walked through Central Park? Can he smell my perfume in the air? Or is it my blood drawing him near?
The music is darker now, more surreal. The strobe lights are flashing in the misty darkness over the dancers far below. I glance at the stained glass windows that still remain tucked securely into the stone walls of this once church.
Crucifixion.
Death.
Blood.
Life.
You and your date are now snuggled together on the couch behind me. You want me to go away. You desire to remain alone in these dark shadows, far away from the others in this place, so you can be alone with the one you want to love you. Ah, sad, little mortal, it is not I who am keeping you from your lover’s embrace. You are merely a distraction until your escort’s next conquest comes along. I sense that. Your lover is a predator of another sort. I can feel it now, as my senses grow more acute.
My love approaches and I feel my heart stuttering in my chest. I haven’t fed tonight and it stirs sluggishly. I feel him when he enters this club. My cold skin prickles as my blood stirs. My chest grows tight, as if my heart is suddenly too large within me. His presence fills the club. I close my eyes, feeling him draw near. My body once more feels alive. I yearn for his touch.
Slowly, I open my eyes and see the dancers below moving like a wave, parting before him as he seeks me out. His black hair shines like raven feathers in the flash of the strobe lights. Clad in black leather and a long velvet coat, he stands sedately in the center of the dance floor. The women around him are enraptured by his presence. I can feel, even from this perch high above, their fervent desire for him.
I can’t help but smile
.
Slowly, he raises his pale face to gaze up at me. The flash of his sapphire blue eyes makes my body shiver with anticipation and he slightly bows his head to me. Then, raising a hand to ward off a woman who has tried to grasp hold of him, he moves out of sight toward the stairs.
Ah, I see you have your lover’s attention once more. Does it irritate you how your date keeps glancing toward me? You are immune to me only because you are so desperate for your lover to love you. You know that love is power. Even against this vampire, your desperate need for love gives you a touch of immunity.
For now.
I deliberately do not turn when my darling one reaches the balcony. I grip the railing just a bit more tightly as I sense him drawing closer. My body is shivering with desire and anticipation. This love for him almost burns me inside, but I do not care. More powerful than blood in this moment, it is life. Even before he touches my body, I can feel his power, his love, his passion.
Hands gliding around my waist, he presses his long, lean body against my back and his soft lips touch my neck. I bury my fingers in his long silky hair and hold him against me as his teeth sink slowly into my flesh. My cheek presses against his head as he drinks lightly from me, his hands caressing me.
I feel unbearably alive. I want to drown in this moment. My heart beats so harshly inside of me it is pain. But this pain is as exquisite as the bite of his fangs.
“My beloved. My love.,” he breathes against my lips and then kisses me.
Every kiss is like our first. It’s all consuming. All I can feel in those precious moments is the press of his lips against mine and his overwhelming love for me. In this endless night, his love is the only thing I am truly sure of. I can feel it radiating out of him, filling me, burning away my coldness, reaching deep within me to stir my soul.
Blood & Love and Other Vampire Tales Page 8
