***
However, the young infants had not stopped their crying. In fact, their situation was now much more dire.
Perhaps the tiny girl could sense the terrible evil which stood over her crib, perhaps not. However, as Vincent leaned closer to get a better look, she began to wail and wriggle much stronger than before. Unfortunately for the little girl, Mommy wasn't listening, nor could she do the littlest thing about it.
The vampire reached into the crib and retrieved the frightened young infant. Had she been a fish, he would have lost her as the baby tried to get away from the form that she somehow knew was most definitely not family, and certainly not Mommy. He held the child high above his head. Behind his purple lips, gleaming fangs hungrily protruded from the corner of his mouth. Slowly, confidently, they pierced the air between them on their way toward the baby's warm, vibrating little throat.
The vampire has heightened senses: taste, smell, touch, sight and hearing. All five are far more highly tuned to his world around him than that of his victims. He has better vision than that of a hungry eagle in search of a morsel from high above the forest. He can smell the presence of human beings faster than the deer can smell a mediocre hunter. Not only can the vampire hear a pin drop, but he can recognize the disturbance in the molecules as the pin slices its way through the air toward the ground. In fact, just one of these senses makes it impossible for the vampire to be taken by surprise.
Except by another vampire.
Therefore, when Nathaniel suddenly came out of nowhere and swept the baby from his hands, knocking him into the far wall in the same motion; he actually let out a cry of surprise.
Nathaniel replaced the baby in her crib and with but a touch quickly pushed the piece of furniture safely behind him.
“Nicely done, Nathaniel. I wondered when you might show yourself,” he added quietly, stepping away from the wall and running both of his hands through his long hair in order to get it out of his face. “Cliché, I know, but I taught you very well, indeed.”
“You taught me only to hate. And I hate you very much.”
Vincent sighed, and then took a threatening step forward.
“Remain where you are, Vincent!” Nathaniel commanded. “These are under my charge.”
“Oh, but Nathaniel, surely you don't think me gluttonous. I will gladly share them with you.”
Nathaniel made no effort to respond.
“Ah, but that is right,” he quickly interjected. “You don't feed on human blood, do you, Nathaniel? Such a pity. Cats and vermin!” he said with a dramatic shudder. “It makes you considerably weaker than I, you realize. In that instance, I guess I will have both!”
“No!” Nathaniel stood his ground.
“I will not be ordered around, Nathaniel,” Vincent said firmly, taking another step forward.
Nathaniel said nothing and made no effort to withdraw.
Two telephones began to ring in other rooms. No one acknowledged the ringing.
Vincent stopped. “Ah, you mean to challenge me. I adore challenges. It has been a challenge, my finding you. It has been a challenge following a cold trail across the globe.” Vincent stepped closer. “And now that I have you…” He stared his adversary down, menacingly. A moment later he reached out delicately with his left hand and lovingly moved a stray hair out of Nathaniel’s face. He whispered: “And I do have you, Nathaniel.” He lowered his hand back to his side and changed his expression again, this time to a look of intimidation. Then, he shook it off again.
“Just go, Vincent,” Nathaniel said, placing his hands on the back of the little baby's crib. In the background, the phones continued to ring. “It is still early. I trust you have more than enough time to acquire for yourself another meal.”
Vincent sighed again and smiled, turning his attention back to the nearest baby. They were each still screaming their lungs out, red-faced panic on their tiny faces. Something in that scene coerced a giggle out of him.
“So lovely!”
He reached down into the nearest crib and gently and tenderly caressed the skin of the baby boy's throat with his ugly discolored fingernail. The infant recoiled at the touch and did his best to move away.
“So warm!”
Vincent pulled the hand away from the baby and then, glancing dramatically into Nathaniel's eyes, stuck the caressing finger into his mouth and licked the scent from it. Down the hall in the kitchen, Barbara’s voice could be heard as the answering machine engaged.
“No more games, Vincent.”
Vincent turned his gaze back upon Nathaniel, his face devoid of expression. He appeared neither pleased nor angered. “It is so good to hear you speak my name again after all of these years.”
“It has been much longer than years.” There was a pregnant pause where Vincent’s name should have followed, but Nathaniel refused to satisfy the monster any further. “And not at all long enough.”
Vincent nodded with understanding or perhaps it was acknowledgement that there was nothing more to discuss. No chance at reconciliation. “I'll not be denied so easily the next time, Nathaniel.”
Nathaniel gave no response.
Vincent started to walk back towards the open window but stopped short. “I’m almost sorry that this must end, my young Nathaniel: my hunt for you. This chance meeting. Our next meeting.” There was the obvious threat in those words, but he showed no hint of it on his face or in his tone. “It is good to find you, finally. I have grown so exhausted with the travelling.” Vincent glanced around the tiny nursery as if he could see the Sierra Mountain Range to the near East, the Pacific Coast to the distant West. “I miss the old country. I will be returning home soon.” He looked back at Nathaniel. His expression melted slightly. It was almost sweet, he knew, were it not for his black, long-dead heart. “Come back with me, my son. May this not end with the shedding of our blood that mingles inside you.”
Nathaniel steadied himself. He wanted to roar back a comment, but held his tongue until he had regained some measure of composure. “I am not your son!”
“No? Are you quite certain? Consider your clothing.” Vincent lifted his left hand as if meaning to reach out for the side of Nathaniel’s head, but did not. “And your hair… is it not as long as mine?”
“That was your doing. I can do nothing to change it.”
Vincent thought to say more, but did not. He just studied Nathaniel as if he had expected as much, but had genuinely hoped for something else. He seemed to sigh, but if so, quickly shook it off. He turned and stepped through the window. Before he departed, he turned to stare deeply at Nathaniel a moment longer. His prodigal son stared back. It had been so long since he had beheld his own reflection in the eyes of the boy. Many years he’d swam in those eyes, never to find comfort there.
Apparently the comfort was to come when those eyes no longer held any reflection.
And then he was gone. The window seemed to slam shut of its own accord.