Three days and three nights of uninterrupted slumber gave me the strength to crawl out of the trunk in search of food: I was literally starving. I had to force myself to leave the silence and the cool darkness of my den, but I had lost track of time and my throat was burning with thirst. A long time had passed since I had felt such an absolute desire for blood, not allowing me to think about anything else. Besides, I had not eaten for at least eight days; too many even for a 300-year-old vampire. However, the idea of facing a stalking, a hunting, and a killing horrified me. I didn't know if I had enough strength to kill someone that night and I was sure that I no longer had any stock left in my freezer. I was about to open the door when I realized that I was wearing only my trousers, baggy trousers that seemed as if I was wearing the wrong size, and that there was a note stuck to the door:
I know how you feel. There is some food in the fridge. Enjoy and be good from now on.
Vincent
I almost burst out crying in relief. The more I became aware of my body, the more I realized that hunting would have been problematic that evening. The thing that scared me most, however, was that it took me so long to recover. What was happening to me? Once, all I needed were two days of sleep and a nice drink to get me back in perfect shape. From the time the lycans had seriously injured me, however, I have become much weaker and I have to feed more often, as if I was thirty years old instead of three hundred. I will have to ask someone who knows about this. I had become accustomed to a high level of invulnerability and these setbacks are, at this point, irritating me. The early years as a vampire were very stressful - I'll tell about it all in due time.
When I crossed the hall to the kitchen, I passed by a large gilt-framed mirror that takes up almost an entire wall and threw a casual glance at my reflection. There was a ghostly face staring at me with sunken cheeks, eyes deep-set in their sockets, and dried blood under his nose, on his chin, and on his tangled hair. I was startled and turned abruptly, snarling at the terrible creature that in some inexplicable moment had made his way into my house; but, then again, I didn't spot an outsider. All of a sudden, in a paroxysm of horror, I realized that the monster staring at me was my own reflection. I slid down on the floor with my hands in my hair, unable to look away. If anyone saw me in that condition, they would have died instantly from terror. I myself could hardly bear to look at me. I forced myself to stand up; I went into the kitchen and opened the fridge where bags and bags of blood were stacked one on top of the other on each shelf. I tore the plastic off the first one, spilling a good half of blood all over me as my hands were shaking; I drank so much that I was about to burst. Then, holding my trousers with my hand, I went back to my trunk and soon fell asleep.
Several nights and countless gallons later, I felt ready to face the outside world again. The desire to see Sophie was one of the biggest motivation.
After an interminable shower and a meticulous inspection of my image in the mirror, I decided that the monster had finally gone to make way for an attractive young man, though just a bit tired. While I was checking the closet looking for something clean to wear, preferably belonging to this century, I heard the doorbell, an occurrence rather isolated than commonplace. I stayed motionless for a moment, my mind working feverishly to figure out who it could have been at seven o'clock in the evening. Maybe Vincent's men were stopping by to check how things were? Another ring, more imperious than the previous, prompted me to walk to the door and open it.
"Monsieur Heveraux?" (This is the last name I use nowadays, at least in France; my job, which I will talk to you about in due time, requires the utmost confidentiality.)
The question came from a wrinkled-looking human, accompanied by a much younger uniformed officer. To their credit, I have to admit they had managed to remain remarkably professional. It is not every day that one finds himself in front of somebody who was six-foot seven, half naked, and white as a ghost staring at you with strange eyes that had reptile-shaped pupils. I had forgotten to put on my colored lenses. Only when I noticed their bewilderment did I realized it, but it was too late.
"Yes, it's me. How can I help you?"
"I'm inspector Fournier. We are investigating the disappearance of Mrs. Marie Colbert. May we ask you a few questions?
"Of course. Come in, please."
I had them sit in the living room, hoping not to have left something incriminating around such as empty bags of blood or bloodstained clothing while the inspector's eyes recorded every detail of my appearance and my home.
"Can you excuse me for a moment? I was trying these new lenses for a party, but they are terribly annoying, I'd like to take them off. It'll take just a minute..."
"Please. I felt a certain uneasiness when you came to the door. They are made very well ...”
"Are they? I was going to dress up like a vampire. Those will give the finishing touch then."
"With no doubt.” (It won't take a lot for him to look like that, this guy gives me the chills)
Being able to read people's mind is always useful.
I disappeared in the bathroom; I wore lenses to hide my real eyes and threw on a t-shirt that I took from an overflowing basket of dirty laundry. I tied my wet hair in a ponytail and made my way back to the living room trying to look concerned for poor Mary.
"Here I am, sorry. So, any news about Mrs. Colbert? Did you find out anything?
"Unfortunately nothing yet. (And I shouldn't say that to you, asshole) We've been trying to get in contact with you for a few days, Mr. Heveraux. Were you out of town?"
"Yes I was. I got back just a few hours ago. My job..."
"I understand. And what is it that you do?"
A notebook had appeared as if by magic in the officer's hand, sitting on the couch alongside his colleague. I had settled on the chair in front of them, in a relaxed pose, hoping to look self-confident and innocent. This guy seemed like a tough cookie and I did not exclude having to resort to using bewitchery if the questions became too difficult.
"I'm a freelancer; I work in the field of security systems for big firms."
"Interesting. Do you travel a lot?"
"It depends. It's a very demanding job and it keeps me away all day. It requires several transfers every year."
"When did you see Mrs. Colbert for the last time, Mr. Heveraux?"
"Let me think... She disappeared on Tuesday... Saturday. Last Saturday, at about this hour. She came to get her weekly check as she always did."
"Did she look worried to you? Upset about something?"
"Mmmm, no, I wouldn't say that. She looked like she always did." (Translation: she was looking forward to leaving. I don't think she suspected something supernatural about me, but my presence used to put her on edge.)
"Would you like a coffee, or a drink?" I asked, and I could not help myself from glancing at my watch with impatience.
"No, thank you, Sir. May I ask you a personal question?"
I stared at the inspector for a moment, a look too long for my answer to sound sincere. I don't like personal questions, especially if they came from a stranger.
"Uhm... of course."
"I couldn't help myself noticing the scars on your chest and on your back when you opened the door. What happened to you?"
Next time I will open the door wearing my coat then. No, I won't open it at all.
I sighed. What the hell could I possibly say?
"Uhm... when I was a child I was attacked by a pack of stray dogs. They almost killed me and that's the result. If we are done, I should...”
"I'd have some more question, if you don't mind. Has Mrs. Colbert been working for you for a long time?"
"Approximately a couple of years, I guess."
"Did she have the keys to your apartment? How many times a week did she used to come?"
"Of course, she had the keys. As I told you, I am often abroad due to my job. She used to come twice a week, on Tuesday and Friday afternoons. And then she used to come on Saturday to get her salary.
"
"Why?"
"Sorry, what do you mean?"
"You could have left her the money somewhere, I don't know, on the kitchen table per say. Why was it necessary for her to come back a third time?"
I shrugged. "We used to do it that way in the beginning, but once a check got lost. Since then we decided to do it this way. She lives in the neighborhood and assured me it wasn't a big deal to her."
"She was afraid of you, did you know that?"
"Pardon me?"
"Mrs. Colbert... we spoke to her son. He told us she didn't like coming here to work, that this house made her uneasy and that you scared her."
"I'm sorry. I can't see the reason for that."
"Well, seeing you… it’s no wonder."
We stared at each other in the eyes in a silent duel. I liked this guy less and less every second. Judging from his thoughts, the feeling was mutual.
"Really? I am sorry that Mrs. Colbert did not hold a high opinion of me, or you for that matter. However, I will keep that in mind when she comes back, but I have no idea what else I could say. She was supposed to come on Friday but she didn't show up, that’s all I know. Now you have to excuse me, but I really must go out. I've got an appointment."
I stood up and the policemen did the same. The inspector reached out to me and I stared his hand for a moment as if I had never saw one before, then I resigned to exchanging a short shake. I sensed wonder, curiosity, and some sort of uneasiness when our hands came in contact. Of course, he could not have possibly missed the chilliness of my skin.
"Damn! You're going to be a perfect vampire at that party. You even have the right temperature!" said the inspector. We both chuckled, better yet, the three of us did: his ghost of a colleague seemed to have regained at least the ability to move. A smile never came to pass though, and they stayed hooked until the very last second.
"Are you planning any business trips, Mr. Heveraux? Maybe we will have to bother you again with some more questions and perhaps a more thorough investigation of your apartment.
That, definitely, would be bothersome.
"I really don't think so," I said, and then I stared at the more meddlesome one with a slightly more intense look. His expression changed, turning hazy and dreamy.
"No... Rethinking it, everything is all right. We won't be disturbing you anymore then."
“I think that would be better."
"What are you talking about, inspector, are you fine?"
My attention turned to the agent by his side. Soon after, he was persuaded that the interrogation was satisfactory and that there was no further need to come back to see me. I escorted them to the entrance, greeted them with courtesy, and shut the door behind me, chuckling in relief.
I quickly stored that unfortunate mishap in my memory and went to wait for Sophie outside the hospital where she works. I was hoping that luck was going to be on my side and that her shift would end around that time. And so it was. After about forty minutes, I saw her coming out of the main entrance and I approached her, a bit hesitant, fearing that she didn't even remember me.
"Good evening, Sophie."
The smile on her face when she saw me was the best reward I could have received after all that I had endured during those past few days. For the first time, I felt good again, strong, able to face anything.
"Raistan! Hi, nice to see you! Where have you been?"
"I've been a little ... ill, I'm sorry. I meant to call you but I don’t have your number. What about you? Are you okay? "
She stared at me with a concerned expression; she moved towards me and placed her hand on my cheek.
"Damn it, you don't look well at all. You're so pale..."
I withdrew from her touch - the usual word (cold!) flashed in neon red letters in her mind - and I diverted the conversation to topics more harmless. That evening we walked and chatted, relaxed, but I realize that, from the beginning, I had avoided any kind of physical contact without some piece of clothing used as a buffer between us. Too cold. This was what was holding me back, you know, the idea of eliciting disgust from a person whom I really like. Sophie must be my redemption from all the atrocities I have committed in the past and my island paradise to those I will commit in the future. I do not know if this will be possible, but I have to try. Tomorrow I will find her and I will talk to her once and for all.
Actually, it is absolutely forbidden for us vampires to reveal our true nature to humans, except when they become our dinner. If Vincent knew my intentions, he would kill me instantly because nothing is more important to him than preserving our race. I would be putting Sophie in danger too, I know, but I'm tired of wandering this world without someone caring about me, Shibeen aside. I cannot stand it anymore. If you were meant to be human, human you will be.
April 22, 2:58 a.m.
She did not flee. She's sleeping in my bed and until a moment ago I was lying by her side, caressing her wonderful skin, warm and perfumed. You want details, don't you, dear reader? Then you will have them.
As soon as the sun went down, I called her on the phone, still sitting in the trunk with the lid open, just to make you understand the extent of the impatience that was devouring me. She was cold and distant, and I had to use all my powers of persuasion to convince her to see me once more. I promised her that if she did not want to see me again after tonight, I would never bother her ever again. She agreed to meet at our usual bistro at ten o'clock, and I arrived over half an hour in advance with a bunch of flowers. She seemed to like them.
I saw her coming from afar and had to force myself not to run towards her with my vampire lightning speed. I had to act as much more human as possible, at least for the moment. I smiled and waved to her; she returned neither one nor the other.
"Do you really think that turning up with your beautiful smile and a bouquet of flowers will make me forget the humiliation I had sustained yesterday? I have been thinking about it all day and, the more I think about it, the more I feel deceived! Why didn't you tell me before? Why did you make me believe that you were interested in me when you had no intention of going beyond having some nice conversations? "
"Sophie, I'm here to clear it all up. Just give me the chance to do it, please. I listened to you when you needed it, now I wish for you to do the same with me. Do you want to go in or shall we go somewhere else?"
"Your call. I'm not even hungry."
"To my home? It's a hell of a hard speech; I'd rather go somewhere else."
"Ok. However, I am going to leave in an hour, I am very tired. It's been a horrid day."
"It’s up to you."
She got in my car but I could not extract a single word from her until we arrived. She stared straight ahead, again with her bag clasped tightly in her arms like a shield, but, in her thoughts, I detected a glint of hope. Hope that, after what I had to say to her, would make her feel better; that the reason why I rejected her was serious and not just a passing whim; and that there was still a way to fix it. All this instilled optimism in me, too, because I knew she cared.
In my apartment, I led her to the velvet chocolate-colored couch.
"Would you like something to drink? Wine, beer, a soft drink... anything you want."
"Whatever you’re having is fine…it’s all the same to me."
Well this is going to be difficult...
"White wine?"
"Ok."
I came back with a bottle and two glasses and sat beside her. I noticed that she subtly shrank back to create a distance between us, then she took a sip and I did likewise. Just one, for courage.
"So? What are these enormous problems that make you run away from a woman undressing in your house, unless, of course, you’re gay? "
I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath then I knelt on the floor just in front of her.
"I promised you that I would show you my eyes without lenses someday, do you remember?"
"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything? I'd like for you t
o stop procrastinating now.”
“But it does, believe me. Are you ready?”
"Yes, but what the hell..."
I turned around and removed the lenses then I stared at her with my red-flecked blue eyes and vertical serpent-like pupils. She remained with her glass in the air, opened her mouth, and returned my gaze with an incredulous look.
"Wh... what..."
Her thoughts became jumbled, making it very hard to go through them.
"Give me your hand," I whispered. She reached out slowly, hesitantly. I unbuttoned my shirt; took her hand; and, overcoming her resistance, placed it against my chest, right in the middle where a beating heart and warm skin should have been.
Had I not restrained her hand, she would have drawn it back at once; her expression was becoming more and more incredulous and alarmed. Her fingers moved up my neck just underneath my throat, first on one side and then on the other. She, then, took my wrist t with skillful maneuverability.
"What do you feel?" I asked.
She shook her head. She seemed like she could not stop from staring at me whilst her hands caressed me as if they had their own free will.
"Nothing. I feel nothing. Just cold. A terrible coldness. And your eyes... What... what are you?"
"I'm something worse than a gay, that's for sure. Can't you tell?"
"No, I... It is not possible. Your heart... I cannot feel it. Why can't I feel your heart beating?
"Because it's still. It has been still for 305 years to be precise. I am a vampire, Sophie. That is the huge obstacle. Do you get it, now?"
Her face whitened. Usually people scamper off screaming at that point. She finished her wine, refilled her glass, and guzzled it, unable to keep her eyes off me.
Rising to darkness Page 8
