The Glass Vampire

by David Page

  "Did you visit me in your dreams, Sir Knight?"

  Her radiant smile pulled at him and he had crossed half the distance between them before he realized he was even walking. His pulse hammered in his neck and his limbs grew heavy.

  "Who are you?"

  "I am a friend." She glided towards him, her delicate feet almost floating above the soft grass. "You did not answer my question."

  Richard continued forward. A drop of sweat slipped from his brow as lust raged through him. He needed to press his body against hers.

  "I have dreamed of little else since I first beheld your beauty." Richard shivered.

  She paused suddenly, her smile broadened; lighting up her eyes with a fire that clearly equaled his desire. She pursed her lips and then took a step back. She frowned, causing the strange nimbus that had surrounded her to fade out.

  As if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on him, the heat coursing through his bloodstream cooled. A fog he had not even known was there lifted from his mind. He blinked, unsure of what had happened. Colette touched his arm with her delicate fingers.

  "I am a friend, Richard.” She paused, studying him intently for a moment. “Have I your leave to ask a personal question?" She released his arm but did not take her gaze from him.

  He had the feeling she would ask regardless. "Of course." He wondered absently what had happened to the unbridled passion he had felt moments before. No one had ever been able to manipulate his desire in such a way.

  "Tell me about this pain festering in your soul. What has happened to cause you such despair?" Tears glittered in the corners of her eyes.

  "How did you…." He paused, a tinge of fear radiating outwards from his stomach. "Are you a witch?"

  "Lords, no." She laughed, shaking her head at the same time. "I am merely sensitive to certain energies that exist around and within us all." She motioned to the trees at the edges of the clearing. "I am aware of a myriad of creatures hiding in the forest around us. I can feel the life pulsing through their bodies; can sense their emotions just as I can with you, Richard."

  Richard eyed the woods nervously. He could see very little in the darkness, though he could hear the chirping of the crickets, the crunching of tiny twigs as some small woodland creature moved about, and the flapping of wings. Looking back at her, he was unsure whether she had just verified his accusation or refuted it. Either way, she was correct about his pain. He lowered his head and ground his heels into the dirt. So much had been lost.

  An owl hooted nearby. He spun towards the sound, his hand dropping to his sword.

  "You are easily startled." Colette moved next to him and motioned towards the woods. "The owl merely watches our story."

  Richard could feel her curiosity and something more…. He smiled as he returned his attention to her.

  "Are we acting out a Roman Comedy or a Greek Tragedy?"

  "That remains to be seen." The wind tossed her hair over her right shoulder and molded her red dress against her side. “Now… tell me.”

  "Tis true, I have suffered much during these past years." He sighed. It had been a long time since he had spoken to anyone about the events that haunted his dreams.

  "Because you are a Saxon lord living in a world ruled by the Normans?"

  "In part." He wondered how she could know of origins. "I am a Saxon, and as with all Saxons, the Norman conquerors have taken much from me, but I did not lose as much as many."

  He paused, his chest tightening.

  "Tell me." She squeezed his hands in reassurance. Her eyes bored into him, filling him with a need to continue his tale.

  "I was at Hastings with King Harold when he fell in battle.” Every time he closed his eyes, he could hear the men shouting, the screams of the dying, and the wail of despair that escaped his own lips as his king perished. “The arrow pierced his eye, striking into his brains and killing him instantly. The instant his lifeless shell met the damp earth, our lines broke and chaos reigned. I sought to rally the warriors around me, but it was hopeless. Their spirits were broken along with their king’s body. The battle became a rout. It was all I could do to keep my own men together. We reformed our ranks on a nearby hill. The Normans quickly surrounded us but they did not attack. We stood there, swords and bows at the ready." He kicked at the earth, tearing up a small clump of grass.

  "The crowd parted and a broad-shouldered man strode towards us. His face was scarred, blood smeared his cloak and the mail shirt beneath it, and a savage fire burned in his eyes. We recognized William immediately. The Conqueror stopped between us and suddenly laughed!

  'Well fought!' he said. 'I can use men like you. Throw down your arms, swear fealty to me and help me rebuild this land!'"

  Richard paused, drawing in a deep breath. His cheeks burned with shame even before he told her what had come next. She continued to watch him, no judgments written in her expression. Perhaps she really could understand.

  "To save my men, I agreed to William's terms and swore on my sword to serve him. Many of my men branded me a traitor and vowed to take revenge, but because of my actions, they remained alive." He bowed his head.

  Colette nodded slowly. "Those were the men who attacked you."

  "Some of them, yes." He looked up.

  "I understand what it is to be displaced from your home. Mine was in France, long ago." She looked up at the sky. "When my lord died in battle, our people turned on me, sure that I was possessed by the Devil. They drove me from my keep and nearly killed me." Tears welled up in her eyes. "We are the same, Richard." Her voice was low, painful.

  Richard instinctively wrapped his arms around her. She allowed him to pull her into his embrace and then buried her head in his shoulder and squeezed him with surprising strength. The lilac scent of her hair, the warmth of her body, and the strength he sensed within her threatened the floodgates of his desire again.

  "Richard, we can help one another. We need one another."

  Richard's blood pounded in his ears. Without thinking, he kissed her on the head, causing her to hold him tighter than he thought possible. She leaned up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, softly, tentatively. Pulling back, she smiled seductively, took his hands in hers and led him toward the hut.

  Richard followed, a mix of love and desire wrapping around him.

  ***

  Beth snapped her fingers. "I really wish you would stop doing that."

  Richard staggered and had to reach out to the nearest section of wall to prevent himself from falling. He was in the old closet with Beth. She had lifted the latch and slid the door open along its runners revealing a well-lit hallway beyond. Unlike the entryway, several long fluorescent lights hung down from the worn beams above. Dust motes sailed through the air glowing in eerie light.

  The rough cement walls, different from the rest, led Richard to believe that Beth had brought him within the boundaries of a specific building, perhaps the half-collapsed structure he had seen across the street. He looked up, his stomach jumping suddenly.

  "I'm sorry. I-" He focused on the door, trying to ground himself in the present.

  She glared. " This is the third time you've almost passed out on me. Are you getting enough blood?"

  He had not had enough blood in a decade. Store bought blood packs were just not the same as blood straight from the vein. He looked past her, trying to ignore her comment. The hallway beyond was short with several dark openings on each side and another rusted metal pressure door at the end. Only the buzzing of another bank of fluorescent lights broke the silence. Looking up, he noticed several television cameras nestled high up among the ancient beams. Whoever had placed them there had not gone through any effort to hide them. Cables extended from each one, traveling the length of the main beam all the way to the far wall at where they entered through a single missing brick.

  Of course, the cameras would not be able to see him, but they could hear his movements and their conversation; which meant that Jack and his people could still monitor
him.

  "Well?" She crossed her arms.

  He hesitated, wondering how much he should tell her under the circumstances.

  "I am quite fine, I assure you."

  "Okay." She frowned, staring up at him for a moment and crinkling her brow as if assessing the accuracy of his statement. “Let’s get you to the Dr. Nash, anyhow. He's the guy in charge of day to day operations down here. You'll meet him in a few minutes. I’m sure he doesn’t have time to give you an exam right away, but we can at least introduce you." She stepped through the door.

  Most of the openings to either side were too dark to see into, however the last one on the right revealed a small room that had been converted into a makeshift kitchen area. A single plastic table and some lawn chairs had been arranged in the center while a microwave rested on a pile of sealed cardboard boxes against the left most wall. Six laptops sat on several wooden crates, above which a tangle of wires hung down ending in a power strip into which all the devices were plugged. Four men and two women wearing clothing ranging from causal jeans to army fatigues lounged around the room. One of them worked on a TV dinner while several others typed at their computers and a few others read manuals under the brighter light provided by the four evenly spaced halogen floor lamps in the room. In the far corner a man sat apart from the others, leaning forward in the only metal chair in the room and gripping what looked like a Winchester lever action rifle.

  "Come on, Richard. I'll introduce you to the gang afterwards." She pointed to the metal door at the end of the hallway.

  "Right." He cast a last look at the occupants of the room and wondered if they really looked like activists. His vision of such groups was peopled entirely with hippies. This bunch seemed a little too professional.

  “Richard?” Beth prodded.

  Putting his fears aside, he followed her. To the right of the final door, a legal-sized piece of paper had been tacked to the wall by what appeared to be a screwdriver driven into the mortar between two bricks. Richard looked closer. It appeared to be a list of Biosafety Level 2 directives and procedures, whatever that meant. On the door, itself, a large symbol made up of three rings spaced out around a fourth ring had been painted over the rust. Beneath that symbol were the words: BIOSAFETY LEVEL 2. Next to that Richard recognized the symbol for Radiation. The words under that one read: Caution, Radioactive Materials. What could possibly be radioactive?

  "Biosafety Level 2?" Richard pointed to the sign.

  She waved dismissively. "I'm not a scientist, but from what the doc has told me, it basically means that the lab deals with things like blood borne pathogens that have a moderate danger level to personnel. It’s not a radiation thing."

  "I see." Richard had never been very interested in science either.

  "I'm surprised you never studied any of this stuff yourself." Beth retrieved a small hammer from the floor and pounded on the door in a specific rhythm.

  Richard made a note to remember the primitive code, knowing that at some point he might need it. "I chose to be what I am. I have no interest in the scientific labels that man has placed on my kind, nor do I have any interest in finding a cure for whatever it is that makes me a vampire." In fact, when scientists had first learned to draw blood, he had held a vague curiosity about the whole thing. He had paid human servants to keep abreast of the latest discoveries, especially breakthroughs in the storage and/or synthesis of blood.

  A moment later a rhythmic clanging answered. Beth nodded, dropped the hammer, and gripped the door handle. She held her hand there for a moment, glancing back sidelong.

  "You’re serious?"

  “Quite. If, for some reason, I no longer wished to be a vampire, I would simply step into the sunlight and end my life. I have no desire to be human again, despite what some doctors and activists seem to think." There was a movement within the United States to develop a cure for all vampires, as if the government hadn’t done enough. It was being pushed by both the religious right and by the very ignorant…not that there was much difference between the two. Such people had frightened him since the Spanish Inquisition and had nearly killed him.

  "And now you’re stuck halfway." Beth's expression was inscrutable. She pulled down on the large metal door lever. Surprisingly, the handle slid down effortlessly and the door opened without a sound.

  Richard nodded but said nothing. What could he say to that? He was stuck in limbo for all intents and purposes.

  "Come on." She stepped inside.

  Richard followed, unsure why Beth would be upset with his attitude.

  13

  The rectangular chamber was constructed out of the same cement as the rest of the basement. However, unlike the other rooms, a sheet of thick plastic covered the walls, floor, and the ceiling. A small passage about four feet long, made from more of the synthetic material, created an artificial airlock aided by a series of rubber streamers hanging down from the ceiling, overlapping with each other. Richard doubted they would do much to keep out germs, but figured that must they must serve some purpose.

  A heavy-set, thick-necked man in a black shirt and jeans stood in the small entryway. He pointed the largest automatic pistol Richard had ever seen in their direction and scrutinized them for a moment. Finally, he grunted and put the gun up.

  "Hello, Ringo." Beth said the name with neutrality that bordered on dislike.

  Ringo nodded curtly.

  Beth proceeded forward, slipped between the rubber streamers, and entered the makeshift lab. Richard met Ringo's eyes for a moment and was startled at the coldness he saw there. The big man nodded as if some understanding had passed between them and continued to watch him. Richard shrugged and followed Beth.

  The lab was not as primitive as the rest of their operation. With the exception of the doorway, a plastic-coated countertop wrapped its way around the entire bubble, broken only by a heavy shelving unit along the back wall. Several men in lab coats stood at desktop computers examining what looked like representations of strands of DNA on their monitors. Just past them, a woman similarly dressed injected something from a pipette gun into a petri dish filled with what looked like blood. Across the room, a second woman spun test tubes in a centrifuge next to a man who peered into what Richard assumed was an electron microscope.

  In the center of the room, a short squat man read from a clipboard whilst simultaneously rubbing the bald spot in the center of his half-circle of gray hair. The man shook his head. "No, no, no… this is all wrong." He looked up as they entered and stared at Richard.

  "Ah, you've arrived at last." His eyes lit up, he tossed his clipboard onto the nearest counter and hurried over, one hand extended like a spear towards Richard. "I'm Jonathan Nash. I'm in charge of the lab."

  "I suppose I need no introduction." Richard shook the man's hand.

  "None at all.” Nash smiled making his face seem even rounder. “We're all very excited to have you on board. I’ve never stood in the same room with a one-thousand-year-old vampire. Why you could very well be the oldest living being on this planet!"

  Terrific, another vampire groupie, Richard thought. "I'd hardly say I'm the oldest. Many of the elder vampires fled the United States prior to the release of the virus, and are living quite safely and comfortably in the third world. Even without their abilities." He hoped that his exasperation did not show.

  "I hadn't thought about that." Beth chewed her lower lip. "I mean about the conditions of vampires in other countries."

  Richard found that amusing.

  "What’s so funny?" She put her hands on her hips and glared.

  "Americans tend to think of themselves as the center of the universe." Richard chuckled, despite himself.

  Nash sobered up. "It's true, I'm afraid. We are an egocentric nation. As for the plight of your vampire brethren in other countries, even the third world has its dangers for your kind. Without your preternatural abilities, you are at the mercy of just about anyone, not the least of which I would imagine are superstitious peasants who
believe you are demons."

  "Perhaps we are demons." Richard flashed his fangs suddenly. Nash was not startled in the least, however Beth stepped back an inch.

  Nash shook his head. "Vampirism, despite its psychic components is merely a gene- mutating virus. You are still human beings."

  "Perhaps." Richard had debated this question for centuries, never quite knowing for sure what he was, always wondering if perhaps it was as the church had always believed, that vampires were spawn of the devil, or at the very least demons. As the years had worn on, he had become convinced that despite his dietary needs, he was still a man of conscience. That had to count for something. Medical science had certainly lent credence to his belief. If it were simply a virus, then surely it could not change the very nature of a man. Despite this feeling, the way in which his kind had been treated by the rest of humanity had left him feeling apart and alone.

  "I agree with the doctor. You’re just different. It doesn't make you evil." Beth raised her chin slightly, daring him to dispute her.

  "If only you could convince the rest of the world." And Frederick. But that would never happen. People with as strong a will as his could not be swayed. Even when he had been in his prime, Richard had never been able to blanket Frederick's mind the way he could so easily influence most people. Hatred was a difficult emotion to confuse.

  "We are going to set things right, Richard, with your help." Nash's smile vanished and his eyes narrowed.

  "Yes of course." A small flower of hope blossomed in his soul, but he stepped on it. There was no reason for him to trust any of them. There was an angle here, there was always an angle and he had to figure out what it was and how it tied into that task to which Frederick had set him.

  "I believe Vincent is waiting for you. Once he has settled your misgivings, we can get down to business. I'm looking forward to drawing some of your blood." Nash grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

  "I find that statement ironic." There was something almost predatory about the way Nash stared at his left arm. Richard clasped his hands behind his back and smiled, despite his discomfort.