He recognized her perfect seventeenth century script immediately, although he had been two hundred years since she'd written him last.
Maxwell My Love,
Even before the death of the children, I had been contemplating ending it all. My original plans were to invite them all here and have them devour my flesh so that I would continue to live through them somehow. So that my strength would become their strength. Now that they are gone, I see no reason to wait any longer. Please don't hate me because I did not wait for you to arrive and talk to you about this first. I know you would have tried to stop me Max, even though I'm aware that you too have doubted your place in this grand drama in which we have participated for such a long, long time.
If my senses have been wrong and you find that Kane is still alive, tell her that I will love her always. Know that I love you too, deeply. Deeper then you will ever know. There once was a time when I wanted us to be together, but I learned quickly that it wasn't meant to be. I will always wonder, what if ... Goodbye Maxwell, my love. We will meet again some day.
Daniela
Maxwell sat on the step with his head in his hands. He didn't know what to do next. Daniela was the planner, the plotter. His entire vampire existence he had always been following her lead or hiding from her. Now he missed her already. He couldn't be the last Vampire left-because of the forty-seven that he had known in his lifetime, he was the one that was least worthy of that honor, the one that had been the most selfish when it came to helping others, the one, who never really wanted the life that was chosen for him so long ago. He saw the sun starting to show itself above the horizon and got up to find a place to sleep. Out of respect, he knew that he should find a safe location to watch Daniela burn in the sunlight as it came in through the front door, but he didn't think he could bear it. Her letter had been wrong; but he did love her, although not in the intimate way she had written about. She'd never known about his brief relationship with Kane, and now he knew it had been best to keep it a secret.
The staircase was as wide as two automobiles, side by side. Maxwell went upstairs, letting his hands run the length of the stained oak railing. He didn't care to hunt for the safest location to rest, but instead took the first closet that faced away from the sunlight. He found one with a decent amount of space, and pulled the door shut behind him. He knew he should find a safer place. If someone opened the door, killing him, he assumed this is the way his life was meant to end.
* * * *
With the worst of the sun's rays past the castle, Maxwell got up and went down stairs. He saw that the rod was still there but Daniela's body was gone. He could see where a few ashes had piled up in the cracks of the parquet, but knew that the rest if her had either blown away or burned down to the most basic elements. The castle door was still open and he noticed that the moon was full.
Tonight the young werewolves would all be on the hunt and it would be a pain to burden Albert. Although Albert was old enough to change at will, he still loved to feed in the moonlight and would be out somewhere chasing a female human, no doubt, Maxwell was sure.
He could wait a few days or make his way back to America on his own. He decided on the latter, with the sun just going down he could easily reach the Atlantic coast before the sun arose again. If he was going to fly he would have to feed before he left.
He headed for the de Wallen, the red-light district towards the center of the city. Tourist packed the area, walking shoulder to shoulder in a frenzied, sex laced atmosphere. Young women stood in doorways and storefront windows inviting him in for fun, but it was not his sexual appetite which needed to be satisfied. He turned down an alley after passing a coffee shop that had the strong smell of cannabis coming from its open door. Stray cats ran away as he approached. This wasn't the Amsterdam he remembered, this alley was relatively clean and could pass for a narrow street, but it was dark, and he could sense what he was looking for up ahead.
The mugger stepped out and blocked his path. Maxwell noticed the short chain that dangled from the man's right hand. He was a short, squat man with wide shoulders that seemed to go on forever. Dressed in a black leather jacket and dark jeans, he wore black military boots on his feet. His hands looked like two short handled sledgehammers that were used to inflicting damage on innocent people. Maxwell hated muggers, and when he did feed it was usually off of their blood. He'd been responsible for single handily reducing the criminal population of the Midwest over the last forty years by five percent he figured, having played out this scenario thousands of times over the years.
"You're a long way from home, old man” the thug said to him. “A little lost too, maybe?” He spoke English with a heavy Eastern European accent. Maxwell kept walking towards him but didn't say a word. “Let's not make this harder than it has to be, old man.” He took a step backwards; Maxwell knew it, this bastard was just a coward.
Ten feet from the mugger, Maxwell changed. He didn't slowly morph like in the movies, but he simply took a step with his left foot as Maxwell, the old man, and took a step with his right foot as a monster. It felt liberating to let go of his human form and its clothing. Standing well over seven feet suddenly and opening massive spike encrusted wings; he could see the terror set deep into the features of the muggers face. The man turned to run but it was too late. Maxwell reached out and wrapped his wiry clawed hands around the mugger's neck. He pulled him close so that they were only inches from each other's faces. Maxwell had his thumb pressed into the man's windpipe so that he couldn't scream, but the look of terror on his face was very satisfying. Maxwell could smell shit piling up in the man's pants. He also smelled cannabis coming off his breath. The man was a heavy smoker, but didn't seem to have anything stronger in his system. Nothing Maxwell could pick up a sent of.
In one swift move, Maxwell used his thumb that held the mugger's windpipe to tilt back his head and like a lion, clamped his fanged mouth down on the man's throat. As he crushed the criminal's windpipe Maxwell greedily began sucking blood from the body. With the thumbnail of his free hand Maxwell punctured a small opening to the man's abdomen, suction was created and the blood flowed even faster; it was like drinking from a thermos with two holes in it-one to draw in air, one to draw out the liquid. A younger Vampire wouldn't have known this trick.
Maxwell dropped the body which was now severely bloated with air filling every chamber that had once been a passageway for blood. He hadn't spilled a drop of the warm, succulent liquid and the energy that it gave him felt fantastic. He could feel the life force flowing through his arms and his wings. With one swooshing flap of his wings, he took to the air and flew towards the Atlantic.
* * * *
Full of energy from the kill, Maxwell reached the rocky coast of England within a few hours. The night was full of crisp air that felt wonderful in his lungs. Like a kid with a kite, he fully extended his wings and let himself glide almost playfully across the sky, taking his time looking for a place to land. He didn't know anyone in England now that Gail was dead-not that he had been very close to her when she was alive. The reality of his loneliness made him sad and he landed in a crag of rock over the edge of the cliffs. He'd reached the English coast.
Wasted days, wasted time, he thought to himself. The other Vampires were all wonderful beings and he should have taken the time to know each of them intimately. His solitary existence couldn't have been more meaningless then at that moment. He didn't know if he could manage the task, but Maxwell knew he had to try to keep his species going.
He hoped that Kane was still around somewhere, trying to find him. She would be looking for him if she had felt all of the recent death that had stricken their race. He loved Kane deeply despite the fact that she had always been somewhat flighty. It would be helpful to have the support of another. It took over a decade for a human to mature as a Vampire and in that time the care needed was almost childlike. He wouldn't rush into choosing someone, but when he got back to America, he'd start carefully looking.
&nbs
p; Determined and still full of energy, Maxwell decided to swim home. He stood up and let himself freefall from the cliff, landing in the sea as a totally different creature. Oh how good the water felt on his skin, on his scales. He dove deep into the ocean and headed west.
* * * *
Finally, he arrived home. After a night in the ocean and a flight from the coast of Maine, his Indiana farmhouse felt good and welcoming. Maxwell walked right into his den and sat in the deep leather recliner that he used for reading. He wanted to relax a moment before going to his room to get some needed rest; he had a lot to think about over the next few days and in order to keep a clear head, he knew that he should feed and rest on a regular basis.
* * * *
As Maxwell walked through the empty house, he picked up the smell. Eaters of rotten flesh. Still far off in the cornfield someone was coming, two someones from the mingled odors. He crouched down along the back wall of the dining room, looking in the direction of the permeating smell. The tall cornstalks shifted slightly in the dark marking their progress towards his home. Greta and Daisy stepped into the clearing and ran across the gravel road as if coming directly towards him, which they most probably were. He lit a dozen candles and got out a bottle of brandy, he wasn't going to get any extra rest tonight.
"Evening Maxwell,” Greta said in her ghouls cackle as he let them into his house. “We heard you were having a bit of a family crisis and figured we'd come to pay our respects."
"Poor Maxwell,” Daisy added. “How do you plan to keep your species going now that you're the only one left?"
"Don't be so nosey, Daisy,” Greta scolded her lesbian ghoul lover. “It's down right rude."
"Oh, this is Max we're talking about, Love. He's always been able to talk with us. We're all friends here."
He poured drinks and turned on the gas fireplace, knowing that ghouls were cold blooded creatures.
"Thank you, Maxwell,” Greta said taking a deep sip of her brandy. “You do keep it a little on the chilly side in here. I didn't want to complain."
"Don't worry about it, ladies. It's good to see the two of you,” he lied. “I see word travels fast."
"Yes, everyone is talking about it, Max. We feel for you, we really do."
"Thanks Daisy. I appreciate that,” he lied again. “How did you girls hear about it though?"
"Well, you know the earth quake was all over the news, but..."
"But it was those mangy werewolves that have been spreading the word most viciously."
"Don't cut me off, you bitch!” Daisy shouted at Greta. “He was talking to me.” Maxwell rolled his eyes, not wanting to hear these two arguing again, as they always seemed to do. The weirdest part about the two female ghouls was the fact that if anyone else was to utter an unkind word about either one of them, the other would defend her to the death. He'd seen it happen before.
"Anyway, Max, as I was saying, we heard about the earthquake on the news, but it has been those werewolves talking about it that passed the word along that you were the only one left after Daniela done herself in."
He wondered how they knew about that. He topped off all of their glasses and set back in silence hoping to find out.
"Don't you worry Max, you can make a few young ones on your own, and the Vampires will be strong again, before you know it."
"I don't know if I have the will, Daisy.” He said honestly. “Maybe Albert and the rest of the werewolves were right; maybe we should have joined forces when they made the suggestion four decades ago. Some of this may have been avoided."
"But your council was correct; those flea bitten dogs would have out numbered you six to one. They would have taken over. And I never did like the idea of kill'in for kill'in's sake. Because the Vampires spoke up, we're all better off, if you ask me."
"I kinda feel sorry for the humans,” Greta added. “We're not here to exterminate them, just take what we all need to survive."
"And there are plenty of them to go around. No need to herd them up,” Daisy added mischievously.
"Yes, but the council vote was close. If not for Marconi and those loyal to him, it would have been done.” Max took another gulp of the brandy, now happy for the company and the conversation.
"We came to warn you, Max.” Daisy whispered, leaning closer to him.
"What warning?” he asked.
"A warning about the werewolves,” both ghouls whispered together.
"They have been talking about killing you off, Max."
"Then gathering up all the humans like they had originally planned."
"You have to protect yourself, Max. This is real."
Maxwell couldn't believe what he was hearing. No creature of the night would ever attack another. It was forbidden, agreed upon so long ago that everyone believed that it had always been so. A part of him believed what they were saying whole-heartedly. With him all alone, he could see it being done. It's like a cold war coming to an end, no more mutually assured destruction between the two species. Since the AIDS scare and now this tragedy, the scales had tipped in favor of he werewolves fifty to one, and now that he was the only one, what better time to do away with the Vampires all together. They had been the only ones with enough nerve to challenge the original plan. Suddenly, he felt very unsafe in his own home and the heat from the fire did nothing to stop the chill that ran across his flesh.
"Max, they have been breeding.” Greta continued to whisper. “There are ten times the number of werewolves than any of us knew existed."
"Why don't you come underground with us for awhile, Max?” Daisy suggested. “Give you some time to figure out your next move without always hav'in to look over your shoulder all the time."
"It's true, Max. You'd be safe down there with us Ghouls. The werewolves never bother us."
Maxwell knew they were right. For him to stay here could be suicide. He couldn't fight the entire Werewolf nation on his own. He needed all the allies that he could gather. Maxwell was grateful to Greta and Daisy for taking the risk to help him and he told them so. After they finished off the bottle of brandy and grabbed two more for their trip, he walked back through the cornfield with them, then off into the graveyard.
* * * *
The Ghoul population of the world was very small and hadn't changed in ten thousand years, they were the oldest of all the creatures of the night, but they were also the weakest and least organized-most living in monogamous relationships with a mate. Greta and Daisy, as far as Maxwell was aware, were the only two located in Midwest America. He knew of another pair on the west coast, and several others in Europe and Asia, and even a couple from mainland Japan. They were usually friendly and got along well with everyone. They often kept their dens near other creatures of the night, and usually could be relied upon to dispose of many of the carcasses left behind after feedings. Maxwell had a decent enough relationship with Greta and Daisy that he sometimes dropped cadavers he'd drained of blood, directly down into their hole. After several days of decomposition, these could be quite tasty to a hungry Ghoul.
Maxwell followed them down into the den and was amazed at how much space and how many modern comforts they had accumulated in a hole in the ground. They even had some type of dehumidifying system keeping the normally moist earth dry.
"That room there should hold you, Maxi.” Greta said pointing to an opened round doorway. “I dug it myself, after we were visited by Jack and Lynn a few years back. Haven't used it for much since then. We can roll one of the televisions in there if that'll make you feel more at home."
Maxwell walked into the room and noticed that it was really just a large ball, but the ceiling was high, well over eight feet, maybe even ten. There was an earthen bed to the left of the door and a mahogany end table that looked like it had been taking from someone's trash. The lamp worked.
"I really do appreciate this,” he told them again. “I think I'm going to get some sleep."
"Rest yourself, Max,” Daisy told him as she wheeled a television and fifty
feet of extension cord into the room giggling happily. “We got cable! I'm sure you'll find something you like.” She handed him the remote control and left the room. He pulled the wooden door into the opening and was in total blackness until he turned on the TV.
CNN was still leading with stories about the San Francisco earthquake and those that had died. The 9.1 magnitude quake had taken over 1,100 lives. Rescue workers still searched for possible survivors. They were reporting stories of those that didn't make it and of those that did, but had lost everything. The damage was being estimated to be several billions of dollars, and the over all loss of life from the quake, confusion, and fires were expected to reach over 3,000.
Maxwell fell asleep with the remote in his hand, feeling the pull of the rising sun, even this far underground. Amazing beast the sun was, he thought as he began to snore lightly. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept with earth on his back.
* * * *
Maxwell woke up because he could hear voices on the other side of the wall. Too many voices to be just Greta and Daisy. He pressed his ear to the dirty wall and focused. It was only 2:00 in the afternoon by his watch. Ghouls never really slept, although they did like to go into a dark room and close their eyes from time to time, but true sleep they didn't really need.
"If you're going to kill him, you had better do it now,” he heard Greta say. “He's so fucking old that he doesn't need to wait until the sun has completely set to come out."
"No, we were told to wait until Albert gets here and that's what we're going to do, you smelly old hag."
"Don't you talk about my girl like that!” Daisy shouted. “We just handed you the big fish on a platter without any bloodshed, and you want to treat her like that! You bastard."
"Don't worry about it William, don't let a couple of wrinkled, rotten-flesh eating, old, female faggots get you upset. Albert will be here soon enough."
"Fuck You!” Daisy and Greta shouted in unison.
Maxwell Page 2
