I wake and it’s completely dark. I’m not sure where I am and I struggle to sit up.
“Drink this.” A voice says. It takes a couple of seconds to realize it belongs to Doyle. Then another or two before our last conversation dawns on me.
A light flips on and I shield my eyes. We are in our bedroom. I blink a couple times. The sun has not set; I can see sunlight peeking through the blackout curtain.
I look down at a red liquid in a clear plastic glass.
“What is it?” I sputter. “Blood?”
He sighs loudly as if exasperated. “No, of course not. It’s red wine. You’re a little anemic; I think that’s why you keep passing out all the time.”
How can he tell that? But then I don’t have to ask do I?
“And I’m not putting it in a glass because you’ve already cut me once today.”
I look at the glass and wonder what if it’s poison.
“You know.” He says in an irritated tone when I hesitate. “If I’d wanted to kill you; I wouldn’t have spent months trying to get you better.”
Good point. I take a drink.
“Good girl. Now lie down. It’s been a rough night and a rough morning. During which I haven’t gotten any sleep.” He flicks off the light. “I’ll pick you up some iron pills when I’m out.”
He pulls me close to him. He’s not wearing a shirt. He had said it only takes touch for him to feed off of me. He strokes my hair back like any husband would and his skin is cold next to mine, almost like a reptile’s. I had wondered why he was always clammy and now I know. He whispers that he loves me like we’re married and this whole morning never happened. Like he didn’t just tell me that he was a vampire and was feeding off my energy. I stiffen at his touch and I hear him sigh again.
“You know…” He says in the dark. “You’re looking at this all the wrong way. There are some good things about being a host.” He plays with my curls. “Some very good things.”
“Like?” I growl. I know it’s probably best to placate him but I can’t help goading him. I’m so angry with him for all the lies. I know the minute he turns his back I’m out of here. “What? Becoming the living dead? An eternity of creeping around in the shadows and drinking blood?” I spit back at him.
“We don’t drink blood. Well, we could… but that’s just… deviant. And no. If you become my host you won’t be like me.” He assures me with a quick rub on my shoulder. I move away from him. “We can’t make others like us. We are what we are.”
“Don’t touch me Doyle! You lied to me! Our whole life thus far has been a lie!”
“Well what was I supposed to do?” He sits up in the bed; I can feel it move under his weight. I don’t turn to him. “Say: “welcome home honey, would you like to see the house? Oh and another thing: you’re married to a vampire.” He flicks on his light. “Sit up and talk to me!” He barks.
Reluctantly I sit up but I won’t look at him.
“We’re not married. Remember?” I spit the words out.
“We’re bound.” He says. “You’re my mate. Isn’t that the same thing?”
I turn to him, finally. “I don’t know what that means. Bound together. What is that?”
“When we met in Paris. We slept together that first night. You’d never been with anyone before. Therefore we were bound.”
I stare at him like he’s crazy. He throws his hands out like it’s no big deal. “My last host had died.” He looked away. “I was lonely. I saw you on the metro and I couldn’t take my eyes off you. You had this…” He puts his fingers together as if trying to find the right word. “’Joie de vivre” as the French say. You were - you were so happy… you exuded happiness… I wanted to be with you… I hadn’t felt that in so long. I—just wanted to drink a coffee. Perhaps—touch you; drink in a little bit of your energy. And I did but… I couldn’t get enough. I touched you and then I wanted to kiss you. One thing led to another. You invited me to your room. I had no idea—you were... I mean who would have thought that in this millennium I would have found an innocent? In Paris of all places? By then it was too late. I was bound to you.”
I can’t be getting this right. “Because I slept with you. You were bound to me? You and I are stuck together till kingdom come.”
He shakes his head. “Because you gave me your virtue. The act itself is binding to us- it is a blood covenant. It’s been like that for all eternity. Even for Humans.” He says simply in a tone that implies that everybody knows this. “You should know this.”
“Sorry.” I shoot back at him. “I didn’t receive the memo.”
“What?” This time completely confused. “Memo?” His eyes narrow. I can see that he’s having trouble with this bit of slang.
“Nobody told me!” I spit back at him.
“Yes they did. You’ve been told all your life. ‘Save yourself for marriage. True love waits…’ You never thought there was a reason you should not give yourself away so cheaply? No, of course not. You --Americans-have made it into nothing. Your purity is something to be ashamed of- to be discarded at the earliest convenience. You have cheapened it. You have made it into—mere recreation. ” He says disgustedly. He lifts his violet eyes at me. “Like it or not. We take it seriously. We are bound together.”
I can’t believe I’m getting a purity lecture from the king of liars. There are a thousand and one excuses I could make. I was young. I was stupid. I was in Paris. I had a fight with my fiancé. A thousand and one excuses but I knew when it boiled down to it- they were just excuses. It was wrong. I had promised myself to another man. I broke that promise. Had I not, I wouldn’t be in this situation today. Married to a vampire.
Or not married, as the case may be.
“Where do you come from?” I ask him.
“Germany.” He replies. “For the last couple centuries anyway.”
“No. Who made you?”
“Ah, I understand. You want to know where we come from.”
Wasn’t that what I just asked?
“We are older than mankind but we are created beings just as Humans are. We were the first ones, there when the Creator hung the heavens in place. However, we had a ‘falling outs’ of sorts. We were not unlike our younger, human cousins. We wanted to be in charge of our own destinies, and so we came to this world.”
My head spins; I feel like I am lost in a fog trying to comprehend all I’ve just learned. “So…” I say carefully. “You’re saying you are… an… Angel?”
He grimaces, like I have just said something disgusting. “No. Not as you understand them, no- not anymore. We once were like them. They are but unthinking slaves- their whole of existence is spent blindly serving and following their Creator.” He leans in to me, his eyes showing a near red hue. “We are free! Just as you are! We call ourselves the ‘Nephilim’. The Sons of God who sinned by having relations with Human women.” He laughs at the surprise that shows on my face. “Genesis 6: 4. You can look it up in your Bible; I know you have one hidden around here.” He looks around as if he’s searching for it.
“My grandmother gave it to me.” I squeak. How did he know about the Bible?
He takes a drink of what I hope is red wine. “Best keep it hidden then. If I find it. I’ll destroy it.”
This possibly scares me more than all the other things he’s said.
“Why?”
“Because.” Another deep drink as he stands and pulls himself to his full height. “Our Creator is vengeful and cruel. The killer of children.” When I try to argue he silences me with a deadly look. “Do not speak of things you do not understand, woman! I had children once!” He shouts and I snap my mouth closed. “I fathered children! We all did! That’s why we did it. Why we left. To create something in our own image- to have offspring as the Huma
ns did!” He looks at me fiercely. “We loved them! Just like your kind love your children! They were beautiful, strong, intelligent; they were like gods. They could have ruled this world! But He—“Doyle’s voice strengthens and he points angrily at the ceiling. “He is a jealous God and they were not part of His plan. Only he has the right to create offspring in his image. He flooded the Earth then—to kill them all and we were cursed after that… never again allowed to father children. We left Him and so we were confined to this world. We are bound to the women we so desired. If we do not have hosts we cannot survive.”
I shake my head. That was not the God I knew. Not the Good Shepherd I remembered. Not the same God I had felt today in Heavenly Joe’s.
“What will happen to you? If I refuse to become your host?”
“Darkness.” Is his only reply. From the tone of his voice I can tell that it is not a good possibility for him. “What happens to all of us when we die.”
“What will happen to me? To my soul?”
“What?” He asks and puts his hands on his hips. “I don’t know what you’ve been told Andrea but darkness is all that’s waiting for all of us.”
“I refuse to believe that!” I shoot back. There had to be something.
“Did you see any bright lights or tunnels when you were out Andrea? Did you? Because you were gone- for a whole two minutes before we could get you back.”
I don’t answer that. I can’t remember any lights or music. All I remember was being alone- utterly and totally alone- but then just because I didn’t see it- or don’t remember it- doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Maybe I wasn’t completely dead. Maybe I just can’t remember- I don’t know what to believe but I know I’m not ready to believe that a human exists and then is gone. Completely. But I don’t have an answer for Doyle.
“That’s right sweetheart.” He smiles sinisterly. “You get this one chance at things. Then it’s lights out.” He laughs. “You’ve been given an opportunity beyond your imagining, and yet you falter. To live for hundreds of years perhaps- such a gift is beyond measure.”
“How do you do it?” I snap. I have to know what he plans to do to me. “How do you make me a host?”
“Well, that part is like the legend. I do have to bite you.”
My heart hammers in my chest. Oh, my gosh! This cannot be real! I cannot be having this conversation! I think to myself and will myself to wake. When I do not I find my voice and ask: “What then?”
“There is a fluid exchange. It… does hurt quite a bit at first, or so I’ve been told. But nothing good comes without pain and in a few days you will have a lump at the base of your neck. That… for lack of a better word… is like an implant. It’s a part of me that lives and grows inside you but it is a symbiotic relationship. It allows me to gain the sustenance I need without harming you.”
Like a parasite. I can’t help but think.
“Gross.” I observe from my side of the bed.
“On the contrary.” He says softly and rubs my shoulder. “I have always thought it a beautiful thing. To have a part of myself carried within another; it is as near to having a child as we are allowed now.” He sighs wistfully.
I make a hacking noise to show my displeasure. “Ugh!” I grunt and that only makes him angry.
“No more so than having silicone put in one’s breasts or twenty years’ worth of fast food sucked out of one’s gut! Or any of the myriad of things you “Humans” do for pleasure!” He shoots back and I lift my eyebrows in acquiescence.
He sits behind me and pulls my hair away from my neck. I squirm uncomfortably, wondering if he is planning on doing just what he had discussed.
“It is beautiful to us.” He purrs in my ear and strokes my arm lovingly. “We hold our hosts in the highest regard, you cannot even imagine. You will be like a queen to me. I will do everything for you, be devoted only to you, and desire none but you. You will live a life free of disease, sickness, or worry. I can give you all the riches I have amassed, all the pleasures you could possible desire. You will be one of but a few like you; revered by mortals, held in the highest regard by my kind, worshiped by your mate…” He allows those last words to sink in but when I do not respond he sighs and moves away from me. “But you are not ready for that yet. Becoming a host is something you must choose. Freely. I can’t make you choose me.”
I almost want to laugh. Free will is a kick in the pants ain’t it doc? Somehow he’s got women before me to succumb to him and his cockamamie story. How many women have been stupid enough? I wonder.
“How many hosts have you had?” I ask and he chuckles.
“I’m not answering that. I did once before and you were jealous.” He laughs. “I’ve been around since creation, dear. There’s been more than a few.” He tells me. “Don’t ask things you really don’t want the answer to. Understand?”
I nod and make a mental note never to ask what happened to the man who tried to mug us. If it’s all the same, I’d rather not know what he did to him.
“So what’s in it for me?” I want to know.
“You’re in fantastic shape. You hosted me when you were twenty two, and though it’s been almost ten years you’ve not aged since then. Until the accident and the bond was broken- that is. Your immune system will be boosted, your stamina, energy, everything will be heightened.”
“So… Let me get this straight.” I say. “Eternal youth and good health.”
“I never said ‘eternal youth’. I said your aging would be slowed considerably. And you can kill yourself- as my last host did.”
“What’s that?” I shout and leap away. His last host killed herself? What the heck?
“She was always melancholy, but she was beautiful. She had a gentle kind heart that was easily broken. I met her in 1805 when she was sixteen years old. She died in 1999. She so wanted to see the Millennium in Paris… But…” He sighs again and his shoulders slump. “My love wasn’t enough to keep her heart from being broken by the cruelty of this world. Living through the pain and suffering of the two world wars was too much for her and she chose death over life in this place.”
He looks away and we sit silently for a while. I have no words say. I’m not sure if I should comfort him or if I should laugh in his face.
“You are happy, and full of life.” He whispers. “So unlike her. You make me remember that there are good things in this world.” He smiles up at me. “That is why I chose you.”
“Well, what about your other hosts?” I ask.
“I try not to think about them or I shall drown in grief. You may not believe me, but I loved them all. As I love you.” I feel his lips on my neck.
Good answer, Doc. But I’m afraid this is a crock. Wasn’t it PT Barnum that said if it sounds too good to be true it probably is? No. PT Barnum said there’s a fool born every minute. Probably both apply to me.
“I don’t get it.” I say. “If you got all these things going for you - why bother with me? Why not go to a Goth bar and ask around. It will be easy. Just look for any girl wearing black lipstick and too much eye make-up. Tell them you’re a vampire. They’ll be lined up around the corner.”
“You infuriate me.” He tells me. We sit in silence for several minutes. I can tell he’s trying to calm himself. Or figure out what to say next. Or try to keep from wringing my neck. I’m not sure which- maybe all of them. At last he speaks: “I’m bound to you and so I will be until you pass on or host me.”
“Great.” I say. “So if I say no then you’ll kill me.” Talk about stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Another long agonized sigh from his side of the bed. “No. I can’t hurt you. It’s forbidden.”
Well thank God. Otherwise, he’d go out, sleep around then knock her off if she didn’t please him. Sort of like a fail-safe plan for t
he woman involved.
“Face it baby. We’re stuck with each other.” He flicks the light off. “Better get some sleep: seeing as how tonight’s your first night back on the job.”
“What? How can I go back to work? I remember nothing about my job!” Damn him! I was planning on packing my bags and heading for the hills. I remembered what Josue said about coming back to him. I figure, if anyone can help- he can. Especially if he’s an Un-fallen One like Doyle says- then at least he’s playing for the right team.
“Well. I can’t leave you alone. Least you meet with your new, blue eyed friend.” He shoots me a sideways glance that oozes of pure jealousy. “So, the only option is to go with me. You have several months of case files to go through.” He pulls me down in the bed beside him and I try to get away from him but to no avail.
“You. Can’t. Make. Me. You can’t feed. Off me.” I tell him and struggle to get away.
“You can’t stop me.”
“This. Isn’t over.” I promise him as blackness swirls around me.
“Not yet.” He purrs. “Soon.” I am still aware of him as he pulls my hair away from my neck and kisses me. “You’ll host me, darling. Or you’ll suffer the consequences. ”
That last sentence was meant as a threat, and I should be afraid, but it only serves to stoke my stubbornness. “I am not one to be trifled with.” He whispers in my ear.
Neither am I, Doc. Neither am I. I promise myself. He should know better than to mess with a Mountain girl.