This blog is a compilation of short works of fiction by Allan and Helen Krummenacker, authors of the Para-Earth Book Series. The stories contained here take place before our novel "The Vampyre Blogs – Coming Home", with the idea of introducing you to some of the characters who appear in that book and the upcoming anthology "The Vampyre Blogs – One Day At a Time" coming this November. So please, sit back and enjoy more glimpses into Nathan's (our vampyre) and his friends' lives.
For a second, my legs feel like they’re about to give out, but I manage to keep them from buckling with a supreme effort.
One of my dearest friends, who had died seven decades earlier, is actually standing right in front of me. But is it the first time? Was it him on any of those other occasions? And if it was, how?
But before I can begin to find my tongue, Brian comes bounding over to us saying, “Is that true, Nathan? You were at that party?”
“Oh yeah,” I mutter, “And before you ask, no it was nothing like what Virginia’s friend Bambina Maude Delmont told people, or what Randolph Hearst put in his papers.”
As those words leave my lips, a part of me wishes once again that had taken witness stand and testified back in 1922.
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t,” Roscoe says stepping in front of Brian to face me. “Remember, the trial took place during the daytime, and those lawyers would’ve kept you on the stand for hours. No amount of blood would’ve kept you going for that long. Plus, all those reporters would’ve gotten shots of you for the front page, only to find you didn’t appear in them. No, sir! There was no way I was going to let you risk everything for me. But, knowing if it came down to it you would have, always meant a lot to me.”
I smile. His words mean a lot to me. Especially, since I now know it’s really him and not a construct from my mind. But again, I have to wonder, has this always been the case? And what about the others I’ve encountered over time? Were they ghosts as well? Have I been completely wrong about myself and my abilities all this time?
“No,” Roscoe assures me, putting a hand that feels very warm and real on my shoulder. “Only a few of us are actual ghosts. The rest are being brought back from your memories.”
Throughout this silent exchange, Brian has been wrapped up in a discussion with his daughter about my revelation of having been at the party with Virginia and Roscoe. The two of them have already covered the case and why I hadn’t testified, with Lisa supplying some of the details she had overheard Roscoe pointing out to me.
As I listen, I hear Brian piecing together the rest of the story from there. Which is not surprising to me, since he’s always been a guy who knows his onions.
Great, all this time going down memory lane has me thinking in slang terms from the 1920’s. Next thing you know I’ll start going on about Lisa’s legs, calling them gams.
“She got nice ones?” Roscoe asks, having apparently heard my thoughts.
“Oh yeah,” I mouth back, keeping an eye on Brian to make sure he doesn’t see me. “And plenty of moxie.”
“Kind of like another young lady, you were rather fond of,” Roscoe observes, then adds, “Lisa’s built a lot like her too. Especially in the upper department.”
Mentally, I shake my head, as I try not to blush.
Mae West had been the first woman I fell in love with after my wife Madeleine had passed away in the 1890’s. I first met Baby Mae, that was her stage name back in 1907, when she was working vaudeville in Ohio. The name was appropriate at the time since she was only 14 at the time, and very petite in height. In fact, even as an adult, Mae was only 5 feet tall.
We met again in 1911 in New York and by then she was using Mae West as her moniker. Our acquaintance started out as a passing one, but after an incident in a back alley, it became something much deeper and passionate. God what an amazing woman.
No sooner does that thought pass through my mind, when I find myself glancing over at Lisa.
“I think I know where your mind has gone,” Roscoe teases, “Now if only you’d allow the rest of you to go join it.”
I quietly shush him, but I know he’s right. Lisa does have a lot of the same qualities Mae had. But she’s also very much her own person. Which makes her even more special, in my eyes and my heart. However, she’s my godchild, one of a great many. One who also has a mind of her own, I remind myself thinking back to our walk over here from the theater.
But now is not the time. Roscoe’s revelation of his existence still has me taking a few mental steps backwards. I swear every time I think I’ve figured out all there is to know about my condition, the more I find out there’s still so much more to learn. First Isabella, now this.
Just then Lisa rejoins us. Looking up I see no sign of her father. “Where’s…?” I begin, but she cuts in with, “He’s going through the filing cabinets to see what else you have stashed away down here.”
“Well, all he’s going to find in there are copies of the films I’ve already had restored and transferred for use on modern projection equipment,” I tell her, then ask. “I take it, you know who’s with us down here.”
“Duh,” she replies with a roll of her eyes, “I am psychic remember? Plus, I have met and spoken with ghosts before.”
I nod my head. She’s right of course. I’d been on the scene for several of those spectral encounters, two of which had nearly ended with Lisa nearly ended with her becoming part of the next world. Just the thought of that happening to her, still makes me shudder.
Meanwhile, Lisa is introducing herself to Roscoe who gives her a dignified bow, which he promptly converts into a bashful comedy routine from one of his silent movies.
I can’t help but smile. It’s obvious the two of them are hitting it off famously. Which brings me back to an idea I’d had about what to run on the big screen for my theater’s opening night.
Anyway, I make a face at my old friend, while Lisa and Brian finally find their words and begin peppering me with all kinds of questions. Mostly they want to know why I never said anything about a movie career.
Sighing, I head over to them and explain, “My ‘movie career’ as you both call it, was rather short-lived. What you have in your hands was supposed to be my screen test.”
“Screen test?” Lisa repeats and holds up the cannisters in her hands. “This is a two-reeler. That’s not a screen test, that would be full-length comedy feature back in 1912.”
“Two-reels?” I barely manage to get the words out, as my mind races across the decades. Had we really shot that much footage? Obviously, we must have since Lisa’s holding the proof in her hands. But how is that possible?
As the memories of that day unfold in my head, I realize we must have filmed a lot more than I thought we had. Which makes sense, really. Until that day, I’d never stepped on a movie set. So I had no idea what to expect. Admittedly, all the sets, props, and costumes, were much like what I was used to seeing at the theaters, but this was a very different kind of ‘stage’. It was more 3-dimensional and had no place for an audience to sit. Instead, there were cameras and lighting that was different than what I was used to in the theaters I’d worked. In short, the whole thing was oddly familiar and very different at the same time.
After I finally caught my breath, and got my bearings, we got down to business. I spent the rest of the day paying attention to everything Roscoe and Al were telling me to do and how to play the scenes. Looking back, I realize now that a lot of the times I thought we were rehearsing, the camera was actually rolling. Plus, we were all having so much fun together it’s no wonder I didn’t realize how much of our antics were being caught on film. as well.
The chemistry between me, Roscoe and Al, had been so good to the few who had been on hand assisting with the filming, were making plans for more films involving the three of us before we had even finished. Upon hearing this, Roscoe, Al and I spent the rest of the night talking and celebrating, as we all looked forward to working together for years to come.
Alas, none of it came to pass.
You see, a few days later, Roscoe called me in to join him, Minta (his wife), their dog Luke, Al St. John and a few others, to show us some of the footage that had been shot. It had just come back from being processed and we were all eager to see how my performance turned out. It turned out to be a rather empty one.
The scene playing before us on the screen that day was one where Luke had grabbed me by the seat of my pants, making me spin wildly trying to dislodge him. But there was no sign of me on the screen. All we saw was Luke, his four paws completely off the ground, spinning round and round in mid-air.
It was then that I learned that ‘silver’ was used in the celluloid film, as well as a mirror inside the camera, which meant neither could ever capture my image.
We didn’t bother looking at the rest of the film. Or at least I didn’t. I was too heartbroken at the time, and so were Roscoe, Minta and Al. Heck, even Luke padded over to me and hopped up into my lap trying to comfort me. He was such a good dog.
After the initial shock had worn off, I spent a few days with my friends before I decided to head back to vaudeville. There, despite Roscoe and Minta’s urgings, I simply went back to being another stage-hand behind the scenes. Eventually, a quartet of brothers (Groucho, Chico, Harpo and Zeppo) took me under their collective wings. In time they taught me how to play a number of musical instruments and further developed my comedic skills and timing. Before I knew what was happening, they had me back on the stage to assist in their escapades. On occasion, I even stood in for each of them at one time or another, when that person couldn’t make the performance. Still, the sting of my failed attempt at becoming a film star never faded.
And even whenever I saw Roscoe, we never talked about the footage, so I simply assumed he’d destroyed it. But of course, he hadn’t.
I only found out it still existed shortly after Roscoe had passed away quietly in his sleep on June 29th, 1933. After the funeral, Addie (his third wife) had asked to see me and that was when I learned the footage still existed. Why Roscoe had kept the footage all that time, even she didn’t know. However, according to his will, it was to be turned over to me upon his passing along with a few other bits of his estate.
Naturally I took charge of the cannisters and did everything I could to keep them safe. Why? Because the fact that Roscoe hadn’t destroyed them meant something. For whatever reason, he’d held onto that footage, so I felt obligated to preserve them.
In time, when film preservation efforts had reached a good point, I had them fully restored and copied, along with the other celluloid treasures here in my vault. Yet even then I hadn’t been able to bring myself to watch it. The ghosts of what ‘might have been’ has always been just a little too…
“So?” Lisa purrs in my ear just then, making me jump slightly. I was so wrapped up going down memory lane, I hadn’t noticed or even sensed her moving closer to me. “Are you going to tell us what’s on these reels?”
“Roscoe dealing with a ghost, obviously,” I reply casually, while trying to quiet my heart which is suddenly beating in double-time for some reason.
“And who played the ghost?” she persists sweetly.
“I did,” I answer with a bit of false bravado, “And for the record I was quite convincing.” Then add silently to myself, ‘A little too convincing actually.’ Again, I look down at the cannisters once more and frown. It was only supposed to be a screen test. And even if we shot that much footage, why would Roscoe not only save the footage, but give it a title?
“Because I never intended it to be just a screen test, you dope,” Roscoe’s voice murmurs in my other ear, making me jump once more.
I quickly glance to my right to see him resting his chin on my shoulder, while Lisa continues to do the same on my other shoulder. I briefly wonder with of them is the angel and which is the devil. That’s what usually happens in a case like this, right?
Mentally, I ask him, “What do you mean?”
“It was always supposed to be your first film, Nate. Your big break!” he smiles back.
Lisa suddenly inhales, which takes me by surprise. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear she had just heard what Roscoe said. But that’s impossible. This version of him has been formed from my memories. There’s no way she could have heard him.
Shaking my head, I decide to focus my attention on the cannisters once more.
Lisa quietly puts a hand on my arm and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Nathan?” she says, with a hint of worry in her tone.
But I barely notice, as a final piece of the puzzle drops into place for me. And without thinking I breathe, “Roscoe… you finished it?”
Stepping in front of me my old friend nods and gives me a huge smile. “Of course! The way you by me throughout all three trials, meant so much to me. But the fact that you were even willing to testify in my third trial in person and tell everyone that you were the one who found Virginia and then I stumbled in…”
“WAIT!” Lisa suddenly gasps and stares at me. “YOU were there at the party the night Virginia Rappe collapsed?”
Instantly, I do a double-take. She heard him? But how? I know she’s psychic and can see and even hear ghosts and…
Suddenly, I turn to back to my old friend whose smile has become even more broad than before as he says, “Boo!”
Brian’s eyes find mine, and he smiles. “That’s why you were rushing into some of those burning buildings. You were trying to rescue these.”
“To be honest,” I explain, “I didn’t rush into burning buildings for all of them. A number of those I pulled out of garbage bins, or piles of films that were going to be set on fire. In those cases, I replaced the spools I took with extra copies of other movies, or even blank film so no one would notice they were missing.”
“Wait?” Lisa cries and gives me a puzzled look. “People were burning Roscoe’s films? Was it because of the trial?”
I nod.
“But he was declared innocent!” she protests, while a large man with a huge warm smile on his face quietly appears behind her.
I smile inwardly. It’s always good to see my old buddy, Roscoe.
“You are correct, my child,” Brian beams. “However, the verdict of innocence, came at the end of his third trial.” As he speaks, it’s clear that neither he nor Lisa seem to have taken notice of the famous silent film star, who is currently looking over their shoulders to see which films of his they were holding.
As you can already guess, the fact that they can’t see him comes as no surprise to me. After all, I happen to know Roscoe isn’t a ghost. He’s a mental ‘construct’, so to speak, created by my mind and based on our many years of friendship.
For those not aware, I literally remember everything I’ve ever experienced. Heck, I even have memories of being inside my own mother’s womb, if you can believe it.
And among that mountain of memories is every single person I’ve ever met. Some I met only on rare occasions, or even just once in passing. But I do remember them.
Others, like Roscoe (and a host of others I was really close to), I can remember in complete detail. I can recall their personalities, manner of speaking, all their habits, the works. It’s one of the many gifts my Sangui-Sapio companion has granted me.
And every so often, when I feel really lost or am simply missing one of them, that person will appear to me, just like now.
From my point of view, it’s like they’re in the room with me and we interact as if time had never separated us. I guess the best way to explain it is like having a film projector, in your head. And the film is being shown on a screen inside my eyes, complete with sound, so visually and audibly they appear to be in the same room I’m in. And as is the case right now, my old friends can stand or wander around and even react to any living people who also happen to be in the room. This means I also I get to privately enjoy my old friend’s reactions and antics. However, this occasionally winds up with me reacting and saying or doing things in front of my actual guests which leave them more than a little puzzled at times.
As I stated earlier, my existence tends to be a very strange one sometimes.
Anyhow, I presume my ongoing dilemma of what to run on opening night, and Lisa’s discovery of Roscoe’s ‘lost’ films, is what has generated this impromptu visitation from my old friend. Not that I mind. He may have been known mainly for his comic genius, but like Otto, he was always full of keen insights and good advice.
Meanwhile, Brian continues, “You see, my dear, the first two trials ended with hung juries.”
Immediately, Lisa smacks her forehead while saying, “Which means the accusation was hanging over his head for months.”
“And the newspapers, especially those owned by Randolph Hearst, were dragging his name through the mud the whole time,” Brian adds solemnly.
I watch Roscoe pull out a handkerchief and wipe his brow, muttering, “Pal, you don’t know the half of it.”
Quietly, I sympathize with my old friend. Not a lot of people knew what he went through, but I did. I was there for him the whole time, along with Buster, Roscoe’s nephew Al (St. John), plus a number of others. We all stood by him throughout all three trials. From the beginning to the end, when he was finally exonerated. Yet, in spite of that ruling, which was accompanied by a formal apology prepared by the jury and read out loud by the judge, it had already been too late. Roscoe’s reputation had been irreversibly trashed in the eyes of the public and Hollywood.
No sooner does that thought pass through my mind, Lisa cries out, “Hey, here’s one for the Halloween season. Fatty and the Ghost.”
Immediately, her father leans over to peek and exclaims, “I’ve never heard of that one. Maybe, it’s one of the films that never got to the screen because of the trial. That happened to several others he did. Although, as I recall, some of those did get shown overseas.”
Meanwhile, Lisa is shaking her head. “I don’t think so, dad. Look at the date. This was shot back in 1912, almost 10 years before the scandal.”
Roscoe, who has been looking over their shoulders the whole time, suddenly shoots a devilish smile me and says, “Are you going to tell them, or should I?”
I suppress a smile and explain to the other two, “Portions of that film were only ever shown to a select group of individuals. Namely, those who were involved in the making of it.”
Brian raises on eyebrow as he gives me a curious look. “Your tone of voice tells me you were one of those people who got to see it. May one ask how you were involved in the film?”
Pretending to examine my fingernails, I reply nonchalantly, “Oh, I didn’t do much, just co-starred in it.”
The looks of shock, surprise, and disbelief that flashed across both father and daughter’s faces, accompanied by a healthy dose of stammering and head shaking, prompted Roscoe to stand next to me saying, “Boy, what I wouldn’t give to have caught that all on film. These two would’ve been great in one my movies.”
“I taught them everything they know,” I murmur quietly back at him.
“Yeah, right,” he laughs. “You forget, I’ve seen how many times Lisa has run rings around you. She’s made a monkey out of you so many times, you could audition for the next ‘Planet of the Apes’ movie.”
Now, Roscoe left this world back in 1933. So, the fact he is now making references to movies that were made decades after he passed, were one of those little details that helped me figure out long ago that he (and a number of my other acquaintances from across the years) was a construct made up from my memories.
Or at least that’s what I’ve always told myself. Tonight, however, I was about to find out that there are still more things in heaven and earth than I ever dreamed possible.
Leading father and daughter back to the lobby, I turn off all the lights to the theater along the way. Once we’re outside and I’m certain the place is locked up, we start heading to The Crypt. It’s raining lightly, but we’re all okay with that. After all, the building where my club is secreted is only a couple of blocks away.
Lisa sidles up alongside me, occasionally pressing up against me as we go. I shoot a look of appeal to her father, who simply keeps his gaze fixed straight ahead, apparently oblivious to his daughter’s advances. Although, I’m certain I detect a slight pull at one corner of his mouth that falls just short of being an actual smirk.
This of course, leaves me to wrestle with my warring feelings on my own once more.
In that same moment, as if conspiring against me, the rain begins to come down a bit harder. Automatically, I open one side of my billowy trench coat and extend it around Lisa’s head and shoulders to protect her, since I don’t have an umbrella handy. This of course prompts the young lady to wrap her arms around my waist and rest her head against my chest, so I can pull the jacket closed around the two of us.
She’s clearly pleased with this turn of events.
And for the millionth time, I silently admit to myself, it does feel good. No, not just good, but right. However, the times I’ve held Marisa, have also felt just as right.
But before I can start wondering about how holding the two of them at the same time might feel, I find we’ve already turned down the alley that leads to my club. Carefully, we make our way down the stairs and inside the warmth and quiet of The Crypt.
It’s closed tonight so we’re the only ones here. I don’t operate it during the weekdays, since a lot of my clientele are teenagers who don’t need another excuse to avoid their schoolwork.
As Brian locks the door behind us, I carefully extricate myself from Lisa’s embrace and lead the way to the area where the backrooms await. Once we’re there, I show them the hidden stairwell that leads down to the sub-basement. This, like the club itself, is a leftover from the days of prohibition. Once upon a time, all kinds of booze and distilleries where hidden down here, out of the sight of the law (or at least, the ones who were not here to get a drink or two themselves). and once housed all the illegal booze.
Nowadays, most of the floor is an entertainment/game room, with a small kitchen, a bathroom, and another room roughly 10’ by 20’. Unlike the rest of this underground area, the floor in that room is comprised purely of dirt, not wood or concrete. This is a leftover from before I took up residence in the family mansion. Prior to reclaiming my birthright, I spent most of my daylight hours down here resting deep in the ground, whenever I came to town.
Next to the door that leads into this room, stands a huge bookcase. It stretches from the ceiling to the floor and extends a good ten feet in length along the wall. I proceed to remove several books and stand back. Immediately, a tall section of the bookcase swings open revealing an imposing metal door behind it.
“Well, well, well,” Brian exclaims, his eyes wide with surprise, “You’ve moved it again. I swear, every time I think you’ve shown me everything, you produce yet another little wonder.”
“Impressed?” I ask casually.
“Very,” he replies giving me a slight bow. Then he starts studying the metal barrier. “Let me guess, another leftover from Prohibition?”
“From before that,” I explain. “Originally an old bank stood on this site years ago. Then it caught fire and was replaced by the building above us. But no one wanted to remove the vault, so it just sat down here, empty and deserted. That is until the mob took over and started using it to hide their distillery operations. After I found it, Otto helped me update the facilities and install climate control features. That was back in the 60’s.”
“And the films have been down here ever since,” Brian smiles.
“Actually, I didn’t move them in until the early 1980’s” I correct him. “Prior to that, I had another use for the room at that time.”
“So why did you need a climate-controlled room back in the 60’s?” Lisa asks, studying the books I had removed from the case, along with noting the spots where each one had been taken from.
Mentally, I make a note to rearrange the swinging bookshelf mechanism again, as I answer. “Well, originally, I was keeping certain plants and soil samples in here to study while I was working on my master’s degree in Botany. After I’d completed my studies, I got word that all the old films I’d gathered over the years were not holding up as well where I’d been storing them. So, I removed most of the tables I had kept my samples on, added lots of shelving, changed some of the lighting and…” at this I’ve unlocked the metal door, which slowly swings open to reveal a room the size of a rather large bank vault. Kind of like the ones you see on TV, only this one is the real thing.
There are rows upon rows of shelves inside, along with filing cabinets, film repair equipment, and a few other odds and ends.
“Care to step inside and peruse the collection?” I smile invitingly.
Lisa and her dad are so excited they both shoot past me and for a brief moment nearly get stuck in the doorway.
I quietly smile, thinking back to how many times Roscoe, Buster, Al, or the Marx Brothers would pull that stunt with hilarious results. It may be an old gag, but each of them could put a new spin or twist on it like no one else.
At that same time, the first inkling of an idea starts to hit me. Although to be honest, it’s one that has occurred to me several times, but I’m still unsure about it. The idea of running a slew of silent pictures on opening night would certainly appeal to historical movie-buffs. But what about a younger audience? Would they be interested? Hell, most of them have probably never heard of Buster Keaton, or Al St. John, or my old buddy Roscoe. At best, they might be familiar with Charlie Chaplin, but that’s about it.
Just then I hear Lisa’s voice coming from the vault saying, “Dad, would come and take a look at these? I recognize the artist, but not the names of the films.”
Immediately, I start to wonder which films she’s run across so quickly.
Following her voice, I enter the maze of shelving inside the vault, and find father and daughter studying a particular row of cannisters which I instantly recognize. Out of all the rows of films in here, how in the world did Lisa stumble across that section?
Before I can explore that thought further, Brian says excitedly, “Lisa, do you realize what these are? These are some of the films I was talking about earlier. The ones that were believed to have been lost for almost a century! There are collectors out there who would go give their right eye teeth find just one of these!”
“Seriously?” his daughter smiles, “Cool! Oh, and look who stars in most of them…”
Before she can finish, I call out, “Roscoe Conkling Arbuckle! More well known to the general public as ‘Fatty’, a name which he really hated, by the way.”
“Come on,” Brian persists, “I’ve seen that ‘personal film vault’ of yours. You’ve got hundreds of movies in there, a number of which are still in their original cannisters as I recall. And I know you’ve already had most of them copied and transferred onto devices that can be used on modern projection equipment. So, what’s the holdup?”
Eyeing him coolly, I respond, “Firstly, I have over a thousand films that have been transferred and are ready for use. Secondly, there are still another 500 films, which you already pointed out are still in their original cannisters, which I’ve only recently been able to begin the process of getting them restored. Once that process has been finished, then they too will need to be transferred and copied.”
At this point Lisa jumps in with, “Got any of the missing Dr. Who stories?”
Rolling my eyes, I nod, “Yes, and I’ve already sent copies of what I had to the BBC. Unfortunately, most of the ones I gave them, they already had. However, several of my copies were in better shape, so it wasn’t a total waste. Plus, there were a few they didn’t have, for which they were very grateful.”
“I’m going to want to see those,” Brian tells me.
No surprise. He’s almost as big a Dr. Who fan as I am, and Lisa’s just as bad.
“But getting back to that thousand plus movies in your possession. Would any of them happen to be…” he begins.
“Yes,” I cut in, sighing heavily. “A number of them are films that were believed ‘lost’ to history. Which is the big reason for my dilemma.”
At this Lisa frowns. “What’s wrong with them?”
“Nothing’s wrong with them,” I answer snippily. “For your information, a number of them are considered ‘classics’, which is why so many historians have been spent years looking for any remaining copies of them.”
“And you’ve had them all this time?” she replies eyeing me suspiciously. “Holding out on everyone and just keeping all the goodies to yourself, huh?”
With a dramatic groan, I answer, “Most of them I got a hold of decades ago. And even back then, a fair amount of them weren’t in the best shape. With Otto’s help, I tried to preserve them as best we could. A number of these were shot from the 1910’s through the 1930’s, which was before anyone really thought about preserving films. In fact, it wasn’t until 1935 that the New York Museum of Modern Art made the first real effort to preserve old films. And by then a bunch of the silent ones had already been lost, because the material they used to film them weren’t chosen for their ability to last over a long period of time. Plus, that stuff was also highly flammable.” Here I pause and add quietly, “Believe me, I know. I was one of those rare fools who would run inside a building where they were stored which was on fire, trying to grab whatever I could, before we all wound up as extra crispy.”
“Seriously?” father and daughter cry in unison. I’d never mentioned this to either of them before. Why? Because I’m a very private person… most of the time.
After a moment, Brian regains his composure and asks, “You were rushing into burning buildings just to save a few old films?”
“I was specifically trying to save certain ones at the time,” I explain quietly. “But between having flames closing in and structures starting to collapse all around me, I just grabbed whatever I could and got the hell out of there. Only after I was safe did I get a chance to go through the ones I had grabbed and find out their titles.”
Coming over to me, Lisa places a hand on my arm and says gently, “Those films you were after must’ve been pretty special, to you.”
“Oh, they were,” I smile and nod.
“And the ones you did save are all in that vault of yours,” she continues.
“Carefully stored in a special climate-controlled room,” I nod.
“Good,” she smiles, “So, is this vault of yours nearby? Or do we have to take a plane to Los Angeles, or somewhere else?”
“Actually, they’re quite close,” Brian smiles, before I can reply. “In fact, it’s carefully hidden within the walls of one of your favorite hangouts.”
At that Lisa turns to me excitedly and squeals, “You’ve got them at the mansion, don’t you?”
This time it’s my turn to smile mischievously. “Ooo… you’re cold. Very cold.”
She rolls her eyes at that. You know, for someone so ‘mature’ she’s very easy to get going sometimes. Of course, the fact that both her parents and I used to tease her with the old ‘Hot and Cold’ game quite a lot while she was growing up, probably doesn’t help. Especially, when we pulled it on her seventh birthday. At my prompting we had stashed her presents all over the house and made her look for them.
Needless to say, the novelty of the challenge wore off rather quickly and ended with tears. Clearly, it had not been one of my brighter suggestions.
So, upon hearing this, one might’ve thought I would have learned from that experience. But no, I pulled it again on her just last year over at the mansion. Only to quickly learn that time had not improved her attitude about the game one bit. In fact, being older and basically an adult, she was able to express her displeasure with me in much more colorful terms than when she was only seven.
Deciding I’d best not play that game with her now, I’m about to tell her the location when she suddenly bursts out with, “You’ve got them hidden somewhere in the building, where The Crypt is located, don’t you?”
Immediately, Brian starts clapping. “Congratulations, you are correct. Someone, give that girl a coconut!”
Both Lisa and I turn and stare at him for a second.
“A coconut?” she repeats in disgust. “First of all, I hate coconuts. Secondly, if that’s all I’m going to get, it better be made of solid gold.”
“On my salary?” her father gasps, “I’m lucky to be able to afford a regular coconut.” Then he shifts his gaze to me. “Nathan, you’re the moneybags of the family, you give her one made of gold. Then I can steal it in the night, melt it down and take off with my wife to parts unknown.”
“Wait! What about your kids?” I ask.
“You’re their godfather, you take care of them,” he smiles, “They can be your problem.”
In response to that Lisa snuggles up to me, sending one thought racing through my mind, ‘One of them already is.’
Mind you, it’s not that I’m not fond of Lisa. Quite the opposite. I both love and adore her. And yes, I’m also attracted to her. Extremely attracted to be honest. But I’m also attracted to her best friend Marisa, and I don’t want to complicate things between them. Especially, since both of them, by my standards anyway, happen to be a bit on the ‘young’ side. Admittedly, they’re both in their early twenties, but I want them to explore their options and experience life. See who and what is out there for them, before trying to decide whether or not they really want to settle for someone who must avoid daylight and live a night owl existence.
‘Someone who will also more than likely outlive them,’ I add silently.
Although, if I’m being honest, I think I worry more about that last part more than either of them. And it’s because of that fear, I have considered doing the one thing I know would change that outcome. In fact, I’ve thought about it more often than I like to admit. But I’m not about to offer that option to either of them. At least not at this time…
“So, are we going to check out your vault or what?” Lisa asks, interrupting my train of guilt. From the annoyed tone of her voice, this is probably the 3rd or 4th time she’s asked the question, and I clearly wasn’t listening.
Giving her a sheepish smile as an apology, I nod and say, “Sure, why not?”
I haven’t posted any new stories lately, but this is not because I haven’t been writing. On the contrary, I’ve been rather busy with stories lately. In fact, I recently completed one tale set during in World War I, involving Nathan and a zeppelin. Sounds intriguing? Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until the 2nd anthology “Two for the Road” to come out, to read it.
Which with a little luck, and some actual work on my part, may actually happen later this year. We’ll see. Honestly, I would like to see it happen, but if I’ve learned anything these last few months is that “Life gets in the way…”, so we’ll see. I’ll try to keep you all in the loop as best I can.
In the meantime, I’ve also been working on a second lengthy tale which will also appear in that collection. This one will have a trigger warning at the beginning because the subject matter involves a sex trafficking operation. This tale will involve some sex, violence, and threats of violence against women. The story will not be told by Nathan or one of the other regular members of the cast, but someone new who will wind up having an interesting impact on Lisa.
Sounds intriguing, doesn’t it? I hope so, because this story has given me no end of difficulty to write. In most of my other stories, actually all of them now that I think about it, when the storyteller is not Nathan, Lisa or Marisa, it’s someone who is already familiar with the secret of Nathan’s condition or are being told about it (like in The Artist tale). Admittedly, in the first book “The Vampyre Blogs – Coming Home”, Marisa and Pastor Lamar Gregory, but both learned the truth before the book was over. Or at least witnessed firsthand, some of what he could do.
However, this time I’m working on a short story… hell, who am I kidding it has already reached novelette length. Anyway, this time I’m working with a character who has absolutely no idea of who (or what) Nathan is.
And this is where I’ve been encountering my troubles. I want her to remain ignorant of Nathan’s vampiric nature and abilities. So trying to juggle the events that unfold in the story in such a way that neither she nor Lisa actually see him in action. Oh, they might catch glimpse of Nathan’s fury here and there, but without actually seeing who’s doing what. Most of the action takes place off screen, but they and you the readers will get to see a fair amount of the aftermath, and some of it will NOT be pretty. I’ve had more than one person tell me how they’d like to see Nathan not hold back for a change. So, expect a body count in this story, and I warn you all that some of it will be grisly.
Now in order to achieve this effect of keeping the main storyteller ignorant, I’ve had to remind myself time and again about perspective. And it’s been an interesting challenge to write the scenes in such a way that keeps the reader in the know, but not our heroine. To deal with this problem, I’ve resorted to making sure most of the more violent action scenes off screen, but close enough for our storyteller and Lisa to hear and react to what they can make out.
But it took me a while find a way to pull this off, as I don’t want readers to get bored. Most of you are used to getting to witness the action firsthand, so to speak. But this time, I’m kind of using a method that H. P. Lovecraft (the author and creator of the Cthulhu mythos) employed. In his works, many a time the main character catches a brief glimpse of something to horrifying or mind-shattering, that he only gave the reader snippets of what the character saw, then focused mainly on how it made that person feel. The horror, the revulsion, and sense of being in the presence of something that didn’t belong in this world, to make the reader feel and react to the situation as if they were there.
It’s a unique method of storytelling, but extremely effective. I’d compare it to the use of shadows in early horror movies to let the audience ‘see’ what terrible thing is being done to a victim. I for one still love this technique and still shiver at some of those old black and white scenes. This is probably because I subscribe to the idea that as much as special effects artists can come up with incredible and grisly results, it still doesn’t compare to what our own imaginations can come up with. Lovecraft understood this, and it is why his works are still sending shivers down spines to this day.
Anyway, as I’ve worked on this story, time and again I find myself writing the action where Lisa and our storyteller get to see too much. It’s at that point I have to say to myself, “HEY! I thought we were keeping Nathan and his abilities a secret, remember?” At which point, I have to go back the next day and fix that area, because these realizations don’t always come to me as I’m writing.
There’s also another problem I’ve been encountering that involves Lisa. Because she clearly states in “The Vampyre Blogs – Coming Home” that she’s never seen Nathan’s darker side. And the tale I’m working on takes place, just weeks after her Sweet 16th birthday and two years before the events of the novel. So now I had to ask myself, how do I explain why she doesn’t seem to recall what happened? Yes, I’m one of those people, who questions apparent inconsistencies in television, movie and book series. Well, rest assured, I’ve got a solution worked out for the problem.
In fact, a lot of the things that take place in this tale is laying groundwork for a number of plans I have for Lisa, Marisa, and Nathan down the road. But first I have to finish writing the story, which will require me to keep the story in the right ‘perspective’. Which I hope will come easier with time.
My apologies if this entry was more about my writing process, but I thought you all might like a little insight to how and why I write the stories the way I do. Point of view, and perspective, are key elements to how I come up with stories and the tone I set for them.
See you all again soon. Take care and happy reading my friends.
PS: Having recently completed my professional Voice Over training and gotten my demo recordings back, I’ll be focusing on turning both “The Vampyre Blogs – Coming Home” and “TVB – One Day at a Time” into audiobooks and release them later this year.
*I’m borrowing this entry from one of our other blogs (The Musings of Two Creative Minds) because what happened here involves our own dear Nathan was heavily involved in this situation. And it gives you a little hint of a story that will be appearing in the next anthology book “Two for the Road”, which will contain a number of tales some familiar from this blog, along with some brand new stories including the one being discussed here. I have hopes that this anthology will be appearing later this year, but we’ll see what happens. Both Helen and I have got a number of irons in the fire, including turning “The Vampyre Blogs – Coming Home” into an audiobook. Wish us luck and enjoy this peek into our creative processes….
The Pondering Pug’s Thought of the
Day:
What happens when two authors, who are married to each other, get the same type of idea for a short story for their respective book series?
Funny, that this pup should be asking that question, because it happened to Helen and me just recently.
As you all know I created a vampire (or as I call him a ‘vampyre’ since he’s not a true undead being, but more of a science fiction-based blood drinking, shape-shifting, sun avoiding being) named Nathan Steward. For those who aren’t familiar with him here’s a brief synopsis. Nathan was a Union soldier in the Civil War who got blown into a Para-Earth where one of the life forms there fused itself to him, creating a symbiotic bond that allows them to coexist as one. This symbiotic arrangement has also extended Nathan’s life far beyond that of a normal human being, which means he has existed for over 160 years. This has allowed him to see and be a part of a lot of history.
Then about 2 2 1/2 years ago, Helen created Rafael Jones, star of her “The Forever Detective Series”. Set in New York City in 1947 and told from Rafael’s point of view, we quickly we learn he was a police officer, who wanted to serve his country during World War II. Unfortunately, because of his police training he was assigned to MP duty, but later became an investigator gathering evidence for the Nuremberg trials. In the first book “Forever’s Too Long” he has come back to NYC and is opening his own private detective business. In his first 2 cases which become one, he learns that supernatural beings do actually exist, in this case in the form of vampires. As the case progresses, he winds up getting killed and turned into a vampire himself. Yet upon rising he has managed to hold onto his humanity and goes after the vampires responsible for his death, who are also going after a close friend of his.
From there, the series continues with Rafael learning to adjust to his new existence, while keeping his private investigation business going. In his next cases, he encounters more supernatural beings such as ghosts, kelpies, and those gifted with magic such as mediums, witches, wizards, as well as other beings such as ghosts, kelpies, dryads, and many others.
Recently, she added a spinoff group of books centering around some of these other folk, focusing on some adventures of their own that do not involve Rafael. Some of these tales take place before and during World War II.
Well so do a number of my stories with Nathan…
So, I recently had been asking myself what kind of story can I come up with for Nathan during World War I? I had recently been listening to podcasts that told stories of the United States getting hit with sabotage for supplying war materials like weapons and ammunition to England, before we actually entered the war. And two of the cases took place in New York and New Jersey, which was where Nathan was working backstage at vaudeville palaces. So he’d be aware of these incidents, and I could get him involved helping the government by catching a ship headed to England. Now this was during the time of submarine warfare which meant I could easily put him in conflict with a German U-boat to save the ship he was traveling on.
Now I knew Helen had been working on a U-boat story set in WWII for a second anthology in her spinoff series “W. I. T. C. H. Hunters Forever”. However, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever get around to finishing the anthology. And since my story took place in WWI, I didn’t think there would be a problem. So, I got the story well under way before telling Helen about it. She thought it sounded interesting, but then pointed out it might be too similar to the story she had been working on. After much discussion she told me to go ahead with mine and she would drop hers. Now I could tell she was disappointed, but since she insisted, I kept working on mine.
But being the diligent little writer that I am, I wanted to see what the interior of a WWI U-boat was like, and boy was I in for a surprise…
As you can see, this barely had enough room for maybe 10 people. And not a lot of places to hide, which was what I needed for some of the plans I had for Nathan’s activities. I had been envisioning the much bigger and more complex U-boats of WWII. I needed a vessel much bigger than this, with a lot more places to hide and lurk between his acts of sabotage. So, what could I use instead?
Then a memory from my childhood came to me…
Zeppelins! I got fascinated with them after seeing a film showing the destruction of the Hindenburg in 1937. But when I read up on them, I discovered they had been used in WWI to bomb England and other countries at a time where they could achieve heights most biplanes couldn’t. Of course, this changed over time as the war dragged on, but for several years, the Zeppelins were the scourge of the night sky, quietly floating over unsuspecting towns and cities.
They of course could travel over water as well, which meant they could and did occasionally target ships in the waters below.
And after seeing a cut-away diagram like this one…
I knew I had the answer to both our problems. So, I quickly set about reworking the U-boat story I had going and turned it into Nathan ‘haunting’ a Zeppelin instead. Naturally, I informed Helen that the U-boat story was hers, once more, and explained why I changed my mind. I’m pleased to tell you that she was delighted by this turn of events. Especially, as she told me afterwards, she hadn’t really wanted to give up the story she’d had planned because it was such a good one. Which it is! Trust me. But you’ll have to wait for the next anthology book in her series to read it.
And by the same token, you’ll have wait for the next Vampyre Blogs anthology, to read my zeppelin story as well. But it may show up later this year or definitely next year at the latest.
However, I just wanted to share with you what can happen when you have to very creative minds living under the same roof. Sometimes, you both might come up with similar ideas, but there are ways around such situations, to avoid having readers possibly wind up comparing who did a better job on their story.
Researching source material for your setting can make or break a writing project. So make sure you’re diligent, especially if you’re writing about historical events.
Until next time, stay safe and keep writing everyone!
PS: If you enjoyed the Pondering Pug concept, do let us know. We’ll be happy to continue having the pug occasionally show up on the blog with new thoughts and questions to explore. Besides, he is so darn cute!
As soon as I finished re-loading, Nadine headed for the classroom door only to find it locked. “Seriously?” she hissed, “They lock classrooms doors an abandoned school? What did they think kids were going to break in and start rummaging through textbooks so they can catch up on homework or something?”
Suppressing a smile I joined her and explained, “Teachers always lock the doors to the classrooms when they leave, and when they left this school they had no idea it wasn’t going to reopen. Besides, even if they knew they’d still have locked things up because the school district would still be responsible for anyone, even trespassers, hurting themselves in here.”
“I know one I won’t mind hurting,” she murmured under her breath and reached for the handle.
I stopped her, “Too much noise. If the Cannibal’s nearby he’ll hear it. The hinges are on this side of the door. Do you think you can pull the pins out?”
Smiling she elongated her fingers and with a little super-human strength, the pins were out. Together we managed to silently pull the door out of the frame, then stepped into the hallway.
Seeing no sign of our quarry, I quickly determined our location and led the way towards the stairwell leading downstairs. I have to admit, even if we weren’t hunting a psychopath, the old hallways I’d wandered down so many times seemed kind of eerie. The district had been right to close the place down. Some of the ceiling tiles had collapsed, littering the floor with debris and dust. Not to mention the occasional opened locker which revealed cobwebs and abandoned notebooks. I found myself starting to wonder what might be hidden among the closed ones and shuddered.
Upon reaching the old stairwell, I could see more fallen ceiling tiles and exposed wiring.
“This place is starting to feel more and more like a horror movie set,” Nadine whispered as we carefully made our way down the steps.
“And we’re headed for the boiler room where creeps like Freddy Krueger hang out,” I replied in a hushed voice, then a thought hit me. “Hey, Nadine, how about you changing back to your normal form?”
My companion paused on the steps and gave me a curious look. “Why?”
“Because I watched enough of those old slasher movies to know the only girl left always makes it out alive. But any guys with her, especially if they’re black like me, they’re toast,” I told her.
Rolling her eyes, she glared at me. Then a wicked smirk crossed her face and she whispered, “See you downstairs,” and took off down the steps in a blur.
Cursing myself for having said anything I quickly followed. And for the record I wasn’t the least bit annoyed with her for abandoning me like that. I knew damn well if she had sensed the Cannibal anywhere nearby she would never have left my side, not even for a joke.
Just before I reached the last step a light came on and I saw my partner standing near the switch staring into the most unnerving area we’d encountered yet. Old white brick walls surrounded us on all sides, with the occasional dark hallway staring at us almost begging us to come and take a look. There was an old chair and abandoned pallet in one corner, along with some big old rusted bins that had seen better days.
Then I noticed Nadine’s breathing sounded louder and faster. “He’s getting near… and so is someone else.” Closing her eyes she trembled slightly as she concentrated.
‘Going back inside his head,’ I told myself and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She seemed to appreciate it as the shaking stopped and her eyes flew open. “That way,” she snapped, pointing at one of the dark corridors.
Gun drawn I led the way. As we moved, I could hear noises up ahead including moaning. Quickening our pace, we soon found ourselves in a huge room filled with machinery, boilers and God help me… a fucking cage with a young woman inside it. She was curled up in a ball in one corner of her prison, rocking back and forth in a rhythmic fashion that told the entire story. From what little remained of her torn clothing it was obvious she had suffered much at the Cannibal’s hands.
This time Nadine didn’t hold back. She rushed right up to the door to the prison and ripped the thing right off its hinges and flung it aside. The sound of tearing metal seemed to cut through the girl’s almost catatonic state as she looked up and stared at the two of us, not certain if she could believe what she was seeing.
I placed a hand on Nadine’s shoulder and whispered, “Gently, she’s been through a lot.”
She gave me an annoyed look and then nodded. “Got it,” she replied and was about to say something else when the young woman stood up and rushed into her arms crying uncontrollably. In the distance I could hear the sirens of my fellow deputies’ cars drawing closer. No doubt the killer was nearer too.
That’s when I heard the first hint of footsteps coming down the stairs. He was closer than I’d thought.
“Nadine!” I murmured, cocking my revolver.
“I know,” came her muffled reply.
Puzzled I turned and saw my companion’s face buried in the girl’s neck. “What are you…?” I began, when she turned and faced me.
To my relief, there was no blood on her lips. “What did you do?” I asked.
“Gave her peace,” Nadine replied and gently placed the now strangely calm victim into my arms.
“You wiped her memories?” I hissed, in disbelief.
“No, just gave her some strength to cope and recover with time,” my partner answered as she stepped past me.
So, she’d given the girl a bit of herself, that was a relief. I was about to say more when our rescuee blurted, “Don’t! He’ll get you too.”
Nadine paused and gave us both a reassuring smile. Then without saying a word, she headed out of the room.
“What’s she going to do?” the girl asked me.
Before I could answer a voice bellowed from the other room saying, “JOANIE! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME? I’M GOING TO…” the rest the words were lost on a cry of despair.
The girl in my arms stiffened for a second and then became calm. “That cry, it was his voice, not hers. What’s happening?”
“Let’s find out,” I told her and led the way out of the boiler room and down the hallway. As we moved, I could hear Nadine speaking softly as we drew closer.
“It’s all right, I’m here,” she was saying.
As we stepped into the white bricked room, I could see my friend approaching the Cannibal who was slowly backing away until his back was pressed against the far wall.
“DON’T TOUCH ME! I’M FINALLY THE STRONG ONE, NOT YOU!” the killer wailed, his face contorted in a mask of fury as his hands clenched into fists. Yet in spite of all that rage, his hands remained seemingly pinned to wall. But why? Then it hit me, the Sangui-Sapio was holding him back. It wasn’t about to let him harm the one who had shared her life with it.
Nadine took another step closer then stopped and said softly, “It’s okay, you can let you go. I’ll catch you.”
It was hard to make out in the dim light of the room but then I noticed the bullet holes in the Cannibal’s shirt began to move as if of their own accord. Peering closer I finally made out particles of deep red were slowly exiting the tears in the fabric and floating across towards Nadine’s extended hand. Once there, they seemed to disappear into the flesh of her palm, and I could see a sense of relief take over my friend.
As the last of the stream of particles disappeared back into her, the Cannibal slumped against the wall and sat there staring at nothing.
Then Nadine turned to us and I could see her shoulder had finally began to heal properly. Within seconds there was no trace of the injury she’d suffered earlier. Smiling she said to the girl in my arms, “It’s over, he’s done for. Let’s get you out of here.”
I caught the faintest glimpse of green mist waft from her hand into the girl’s nostrils as she spoke. No doubt the sight of red particles coming out of the Cannibal and going into Nadine’s hand would be forgotten.
‘Good job,’ I mouthed to my partner as we led the girl upstairs.
We’d just reached the top of the steps when Sheriff Parkes and several deputies appeared down the hallway. Upon seeing us they called out and quickly joined us.
“What are you doing here…” my boss began, when he and the others unknowingly inhaled some faint green mist. After a moment, he continued, “You found her! Good job you two. What about our suspect?”
“He’s just down those stairs in the basement…” I began when.
“JOANIE! JOANIE YOU BITCH!” came the Cannibal’s voice from the stairwell. “I won’t let you get away this time. I’ll prove I’m stronger than you… you bitch.”
“Get this girl out of here!” Parkes barked at our back-up.
Two of my fellow deputies took care of our charge and moved her down the hallway to safety, while the rest of us turned to face the nightmare figure coming up the stairs.
As the Cannibal came into view I noticed fresh blood stains had appeared exactly where he’d been hit by our bullets earlier.
“Joanie…” he said spying Nadine, his voice was husky and his breathing more labored. “You keep coming back to prove I was never enough of a man for you… I joined the army to become stronger… and proved it overseas. I practiced on the whores I found there and found it wasn’t me it that was the problem… it was you. You never knew how to satisfy me… but they did. I taught them how, with they’re screams, their blood, their flesh.. And then I came back to show you but you’d left… and I had to find you. I had to find you over and over… and prove and prove it all over again, and again and…”
Suddenly the man’s eyes rolled up into his head and he toppled back down the steps, ending with a sickening thud at the bottom. Even before we reached him I knew our quarry was dead.
“It’s finally over,” one of my fellow deputies breathed.
Parkes nodded, then turned to me saying, “You and Collins two did great tonight. Finding the girl while we had him on the run was a brilliant move. Speaking of having him on the run, we heard from the hospital while we were chasing the bastard. Terri’s awake and identified her assailant as our friend here.”
A wave of relief swept over me. Knowing she was out of danger really brought the entire chapter to a close for me. I made a mental note to head to the hospital as soon as we were done here. Unfortunately, there was one last piece of business to attend to here, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.
I glanced over at Nadine who gave me a sad little smile. We had agreed back at the bar that it would probably be best for no one to remember her or her part in all of this, but I was having second thoughts about it.
As Nadine approached I said to my boss, “You know to honest I couldn’t have done any of this without Detective Collins help. I think it would be good for us to keep her in mind if we need her expertise again down the road. She’s something of an expert in handling unusual cases.”
“Is she?” Parkes remarked turning to her. “I know asking you to become part of our team would be a step or two down for you, but I would appreciate it if we could call upon you again in the future.”
For a pregnant moment I half expected to see more greenish vapors, but instead Nadine smiled and extended her hand saying, “Of course. Michael… I mean Deputy Rhodes knows how to get a hold of me.”
“Glad to hear you say that,” my boss replied taking her hand. And he wasn’t the only one. I had grown rather fond of this ‘other’ side of my Uncle Nathan, and I was happy to know I may get to see/work with ‘her’ again one day.
*Authors’ Note: Sorry for the delay between posts. We work for the county and are currently winding down the fiscal year which runs from July 2017-June 2018, so we’ve been run off our feet. But things will be calming down in another few weeks so please bear with us. In the meantime, here is a lengthy entry to help make up for the lack of posts. We hope to get back on our more regular posting schedule before July is out. Thank you for you patience – Allan and Helen Krummenacker
“Nadine!” I screamed and rushed to her side, while my boss and our back up started moving slowly towards our suspect. The Cannibal Killer was still on the ground having spasms, and seemed to be completely unaware of our presence.
I carefully rolled Nadine on her side and studied the knife handle which was all I could see. The bastard and really rammed it in deep. Luckily, I knew from past experiences that it would take more than a knife in the back to stop Nadine. Even if the guy had struck where her heart should be it would’ve failed, because her body would’ve moved the vital organ or created another to keep her going. For all the similarities between her and the vampires of legend, she was something more.
Still something wasn’t right. Even though her eyes were open and staring right at me, she didn’t speak. And the look on her face… what was happening?
That’s when I noticed her bare shoulder and nearly threw up. It took me a moment to get myself under control. I’ve seen a lot of injuries in my line of work, including what our perp had done to his other victims… but none of them had still been alive at the time. The bastard had literally taken a bite out of her.
But the thing that was getting me was the fact that the wound was… doing things. The ragged edges of the wound kept moving, as if they knew they should be reaching across to their counterparts to seal the injury but couldn’t. Instead, they simply kept waving about likes streamers attached to a fan… only bloodier.
I was almost grateful when I heard the sounds of a struggle breaking out behind me… almost. Before I could turn, one of my fellow deputies landed hard beside me and Nadine and rolled.
Whirling I saw I saw our perp was back on his feet tossing both my boss and another deputy aside as if they were a couple of five year olds. Then instead of fleeing the scene, the guy just stood there… laughing.
“Oh… Joanie,” he called and turned in my direction, only his eyes were fixed on the prone form of Nadine in my arms. “I’m not finished with you, not by a long shot!”
Before he could take a single step I raised my gun and fired.
I saw the pocket covering his heart explode as the bullet hit. The impact knocked him back yet he managed to keep standing. For a moment he stared at the hole in his jacket dumbly, as the cloth slowly turned dark then stopped. Then to his shock, and mine, the stain slowly began to shrink.
Immediately the true horror of our situation hit. The guy had eaten and swallowed of not only a piece of Nadine but the Sangui-Sapio life form from that Para-Earth she’d landed up in back in 1862. And just as it had changed Nadine from a simple human into a pseudo-vampire in order to save her life, it was now doing the same to the maniac standing a few yards away from me. But the change was only beginning.
Our psycho staggered and fell to his knees. His eyes were glassy-looking and he seemed confused.
This was our chance! I started to get to my feet when Sheriff Parkes waived me off as he and three more officers, who had materialized out of the darkness, descended on the Cannibal. They were able to grab his arms and cuff them behind his back without the slightest bit of effort. In fact, they well into the process of removing other weapons he had secreted about his person before he seemed to realize what was happening.
Then he laughed.
Something about that sound made all of us back up and draw our weapons. “On the ground! Or you will be shot!” my boss warned.
For a second no one spoke or moved.
Then the killer began to murmur and giggle, “Now I get it… you were right, Joanie. I wasn’t man enough for you before. How could I be… you had a secret but wouldn’t share it with me. But now I know it…”
“I said don’t move!” my boss repeated cocking his weapon.
But the Cannibal didn’t listen, instead he turned towards where Nadine lay and whispered almost sweetly, “…Because I taken from you. But it’s not enough, I want it ALL!”
In flash he was on his feet, snapping the handcuffs behind his back in the process.
But we were faster and opened fire.
At point blank range, every one of our shots struck home and I watched as the Cannibal jerked with each impact. But he never went down. Instead, he lashed out with superhuman strength and speed. His first blow sent Sheriff Parkes sailing over Nadine and into the pond beyond her, while another sent our backup rolling a good twenty yards in opposite directions.
Instinctively, I started to turn towards the pond, but my superior was already getting back to his feet, bellowing, “Stay where you are, protect Collins!”
He was right. At this point I was the only one left to keep the super-powered Cannibal from reaching his target.
Weapon raised, I wracked my brain for ideas as our perp started towards me. Bullets weren’t going to stop this guy, but maybe one in each of his eyes would at least buy us time to regroup…
Suddenly, Nadine appeared between us. Arms outstretched she stood protectively in front of me.
I could see her shoulder was finally healing, but it was doing so slowly, as was the spot in her back where the knife had been. Her entire frame trembled for a moment and I feared she might collapse, but she held her ground and spoke.
“You’re scared… confused. This isn’t what you expected,” she said gently.
The Cannibal Killer chuckled, “No I’m not, Joanie. I’m seeing things clearer than ever before. This is how come you never stayed dead. You kept coming back over and over again, taunting me, laughing at me. But now I know how you did it. And now you can’t stop me. No one can! I’m like you… only better.”
Now he started moving towards us, yet Nadine didn’t move. Instead she gently reached out a hand and said gently, “We both know what you really want.”
That made him stop as he stared at her stupidly at her for a moment.
Behind him, the two deputies he’d thrown were getting to their feet and regrouping so silently, if I hadn’t seen them I’d have never known. Still I kept a poker face, so as not to give anything away.
Yet, without looking away from us the Cannibal Killer pointed at them saying, “And don’t expect them to stop me Joanie… because they’re going to be the warm up act. Once I’m done with them and the one behind you, I’m going to start on you and not stop…”
“You’re in pain,” Nadine cut in, “Don’t let it hold you back, let go.”
“YOU’RE GOING TO BE THE ONE IN PAIN JOA… UNGH!” Suddenly, the killer froze and began to jerk uncontrollably like a marionette whose strings had gotten tangled.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Nadine smiled and took a step toward him.
The look in the Cannibal’s eyes changed from hungry rage to horror as she drew closer.
Just then the other two deputies rushed forward and tried to tackle him from behind. At the last second the killer spun, grabbed each of them and threw the pair directly at us.
Unfortunately, Nadine was not fully recovered. In spite of her attempt to catch my fellow deputies, their combined mass and speed knocked her back into me and the four of us went down in a sprawl. By the time any of us were able to get up, the Cannibal was already gone.
As I was still asking myself that question I stared up at the Aurora Borealis over head.
I could make out the stars through the swirling colors. It’s an incredible sight. I can understand why Nathan comes up this way every so often. I don’t think I’d ever tire of this sight. According to Lisa and Otto, Nathan also goes to Norway, Sweden, Finland or one of the other northernmost countries where you can see these lights. Those countries also tend to have open wide expanses of wilderness which allows him to ‘cut loose’ with his abilities. Those countries also haves long periods where the sun may not appear for weeks or even months, which makes it easier for him to be out and about even during the ‘daytime’ whether he’s out in the woods or in a city.
As I lay there I understood that the night, or those periods of long-nights, do have a lot to offer a person. But, to actually have to live that way most of the time? I mean, I know Nathan can ingest extra blood so he can go out into daylight for a few hours a day (then load up some more if he needs to in order to keep being out in it) but it’s still physically uncomfortable (even painful at times) for him to be out in it.
I shook my head. I wanted Nathan more than anything… but to be like him?
One of the wolves who was cuddled up to me must’ve sensed my distress, for he suddenly raised his head then nuzzled and licked my face as if to comfort me. At first I thought this was more of Nathan’s doing, but he was no longer with us. I figure he must’ve silently got up and headed who knows where, leaving me with my protectors. Carefully I reached up and stroked the licking wolf’s face and then scratched him behind one ear. He seemed to like it. Then one or two others took notice and they decided they wanted some attention too. Eventually, after I gave them all a bit of love, we all settled down and sleep quietly overtook us.
The dreams that followed were the most vivid I’ve ever had. I was in the middle of a greenish fog which slowly dissipated and I found myself staring at a woman I’d never met in my life, but who’s face I knew quite well.
It was Madeline, Nathan’s first wife and Lisa’s great-great grandmother. I recognized her from a number of paintings Nathan has done of her over the years. He keeps practically all of them in his art studio which is located on the top floor of the same building that houses his club “The Crypt” in the basement.
She was standing in the middle of a room with shelves with canned (meaning jars) of fruits and pickled items, a large mound of potatoes in one area, and carrots in another. I quickly realized this was an old root cellar. But instead of gathering any supplies located there, Madeline was simply standing in the center of the room looking down at the dirt floor. I caught the gleam of anticipation in her eyes. A moment later the ground began to ripple, as I had seen it do many times before, and Nathan rose to the surface.
He was standing upright as he emerged from the rippling soil with his arms open wide. As soon as the ground became solid again, Madeline stepped eagerly into that waiting embrace, and I couldn’t blame her. Nathan was clearly as glad to see her, in more ways than one (since he was naked as usual when he came out of the ground). As they kissed, I swear you could practically hear their hearts pounding in unison.
Then the scene changed, I now saw the two of them curled up in front of a fireplace. Nathan was wearing clothing now and there was a little boy, from Madeline’s first husband who died during the war, fast asleep on a chair nearby. Nathan was holding Madeline in his arms as they were talking softly so as not to wake the little one. While I couldn’t make out what they were saying, I saw a number of occasional kisses and caresses being exchanged with genuine affection.
Feeling like a voyeur I turned only to find another scene playing out before me. The boy was now 8 or 9 years old and smiling as he watched Nathan and his mother dancing a waltz. They clearly had eyes only for one another, even though there were a dozen other couples around them. As I watched the scene seemed to melt and now the two of them were dancing alone in their bedroom. Madeline was wearing a white chemise, while Nathan was wearing what was then called a man’s dressing gown, which was basically a more elegant version of the modern bathrobe. As I watched them, I caught the first signs of crow’s feet in the corners of Madeline’s eyes. Her figure also seemed slightly fuller now, not that it seemed to bother either of them. I swear they were acting like a young couple about to celebrate first anniversary.
Other scenes of domestic life rolled out before my eyes like a movie with the occasional fades which revealed a new scene. I witnessed walks, trips, travel to foreign lands, gatherings with friends, and a number of quiet personal moments. I knew time was passing, but the emotions and passion between Nathan and Madeline never seemed to diminish even slightly.
Then a new scene began, and for a moment I thought we were back at the beginning, for Madeline was standing in the root cellar again. Then I realized she was wearing a robe instead of one of her dresses. I also noticed there were traces of gray in her hair, along with a few extra lines here and there. But as soon as Nathan emerged she opened her robe and let it fall to the ground to reveal she was wearing nothing underneath. And although time and gravity had been at work on her body, she was still quite desirable. I became a little envious watching Nathan scoop her up in his arms and begin kissing her like a sailor who’d been away at sea for way too long.
As he spun her around in his arms, more time passed and her hair became more gray until nothing but long silver tresses crowned her head. But the thing that got me was the fact that Nathan’s attention and affection towards her never changed. He was still at attentive, flirtatious, and devoted to her as ever. And neither did their passion for each other.
Just then the Chainsmokers/Coldplay song “I Want Something Just Like This” started running through my head.
“Yes,” I murmured, holding my arms out as if to hug someone, “That’s exactly what I want.” Now I’m going to admit, I was so caught up in the tune, that it took me a moment to realize that I my arms were wrapped around someone because I could feel the warmth of that person.
‘But I’m asleep,’ I thought to myself in confusion. ‘Aren’t I?’ Instinctively, I began to grope around with my hands to try and figure out what was going on and awoke to a wolf licking my face. Sighing I muttered, “So much for waking up in the arms of a hot guy.”
“In spite of technically being a vampyre, I am not undead, so I resent that remark,” came Nathan’s voice from just above my head.
Looking up I found that I was lying in his arms. Glancing around I found the wolves had not only surrounded but covered us in a huge puppy pile. As I became more aware of our situation, I quickly realized that Nathan was naked, and that one of my hands was very close to a certain ‘region’ of his anatomy.
My eyes locked with his.
“Careful, I can be very ticklish,” he warned.
Instead of answering, I looked around and spotted our friend and his mate curled up together. Clearly she was very happy to have him back, Sangui-sapio and all. Then I thought about Madeline and all I had seen about her life.
Turning back to Nathan, I kissed him with everything I had. Then I moved my hand lower and took hold.
His eyes widened, but instead of admonishing me as he had in the past, he said, “Are you sure?”
I nodded.
“Why?” he pressed.
“Madeline,” I answered after a moment.
“You saw her memories,” he said and began nodding to himself.
Her memories?” now it was my turn to be taken by surprise.
He gave me a gentle smile. “You now know firsthand, that I remember everything that ever happened to me because of the Sangui-Sapio. And you know I have access to the memories of its previous, and currents hosts.” Here he gestured at me and our wolf friend. “But what I didn’t tell you, was that I also have the recollections of those who’ve ever had even ‘some’ of the Sangui-sapio in them.”
“Madeline had some in her?” I gasped.
Nathan sighed, “Yeah, I hadn’t realized it myself for the longest time but eventually I figured it out.”
“How did it happen?” I pressed.
He gave me a disappointed look, then sighed, “Someone wasn’t paying attention in biology class. Okay, when a man and woman are really into each other, certain activities can lead to an exchange of body fluids which…”
“You guys weren’t using protection?” I cut in.
Nathan shook his head. “She caught an infection after giving birth to her son, and wasn’t able to conceive after that, so we didn’t bother worrying about protection. And since I was still getting used to my new existence, I hadn’t realized what had happened until much later.”
I started to frown. “But she never became like you.”
“She never wanted to. And as I learned later on, the Sangui-Sapio respected that and simply gave her a healthy long life,” Nathan explained at gazed out at our wolf friend and his mate. “Just as it will with him.”
I thought briefly about how good Madeline looked and moved during her later years. “Can the Sangui-sapio that’s in me, do what it did for Madeline?” I began.
Nathan nodded. “I already asked it to. Not that I had any idea what you were about to decide, mind you. It’s just,t I like to make sure those I care about are ‘taken care of’ so to speak. Especially if there’s the possibility of them one day contracting something serious.”
I knew he was referring to my father and his fight with cancer. I’ll admit, I have wondered and worried from time to time if I might develop that same form of cancer one day. So hearing that Nathan had already made ‘arrangements’ for me, was a huge relief.
“So, the Sangui-Sapio will have to remain in me, but I won’t become like you,” I asked, just to be clear.
“Only if you wish to. Whether it be now or one day many years down the road, you’ll have the option,” he told me reassuringly.
“And if I choose not to?”
“It will return to me, and I will have a bit of you to carry with me always,” he smiled.
Feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders I relaxed into his chest and kissed him deeply once more. I knew where I wanted things to go next, but my stomach had other ideas and started to growl.
Talk about a mood killer.
A couple of the wolves who’d been keeping us warm raised their heads and gave me a funny look.
“You haven’t eaten since before we met up last night,” Nathan observed and slowly sat up. “And you don’t strike me as the type of person who’s into raw bison.”
“Definitely not,” I replied, doing my best not to look over at the remains of last night’s kill.
“Luckily, I know of a nice place less than an hour from here, where we can get you a good meal and I can hide from the sun for the day,” he continued.
That made me do a doubletake. “We’re in the middle of the tundra, how can there be a place to stay that close by?”
“I never said it was close by,” Nathan corrected. “I said we can get there in less than an hour.”
“But it took us a few hours to get where we are from the airport,” I pointed out.
“That’s because we were trying pick up the pack’s scent and then zero in on their location,” Nathan replied reasonably.
Apparently, him having an answer for everything was one of those little quirks I was going to have to get used to. Still, as much as I wanted him in that moment, I was sorely tempted to smack him on the arm. But I resisted and pulled out my cellphone. I knew there probably wouldn’t be any reception here, but since it was still kind of dark I was curious to know that the time was.
You can imagine my surprise to see it was 7 in the morning. Then I reminded myself where we were and that the nights were longer here. However, I could see the first hints of the coming dawn way in the distance. Nathan then informed me the sun would not be up proper for another 2 hours, which meant we needed to get him indoors as well get me food.
Around us the wolves began to meander amongst themselves, while our friend and his mate came over. She came to a stop just out of arms reach, while he came right up to me. Bending down, I ran my hands through his ruff once more and gave him a hug which he readily accepted. “Take care of yourselves,” I told him, knowing that a part of him understood my words perfectly.
He in turn, nuzzled and licked me. Then he looked at Nathan and gave him a short bark. To which Nathan smiled and said, “Thank you, I will.”
Then the pair returned to their pack and slowly moved on.
“He invited you to come and run with them again sometime, didn’t he?” I asked Nathan who was already transforming back to his own wolf form. Once shifted, he nodded, then gestured for me to climb onto his back once more.
Obediently, I climbed on board and felt the fur stretch and wrap around me once more. And boy was I glad for it. When we took off, we were moving way faster than last night, and I couldn’t help but keep a death-grip on Nathan as we went.
But as he promised, we reached our destination in just under an hour. Although, I was more than a little shocked by what we were looking at as I climbed off him.
“Are you serious?” I asked Nathan as he began putting on the clothing I had been keeping safe for him since the night before. “I thought you said there was a ‘nice place’ we could go.”
“It is a nice place,” he protested.
“It’s an ICE place!” I cried gesturing at the white curved structure. “It’s a frickin’ igloo! It’s going to be freezing inside.”
“No, it’s not. Take a closer look,” he instructed.
Frowning, I did as he instructed and got closer. Now I could see that it wasn’t made of ice but was a geodome partly covered in snow and frost. I could make out a chimney of sorts and as I moved around I spotted a wooden section that acted as the entrance to the structure. I was slowly becoming less annoyed and more impressed. I’d seen pictures of such places on the internet. Most of them were found in the Nordic countries. However, I had heard there were some here in Alaska but those were located way north of where we were.
“I had it built by some friends from Norway a few years ago,” Nathan explained.
“So you own this land?”
He nodded. “I went the ‘homestead’ route back in the 1960’s. I own several pieces up here in fact, and before you ask, yes, I do have cabins/homes built on them too. And all of them are well stocked with food, warm beds, and heating materials.”
Taking another look at the dome I could see there was a huge window looking out onto the tundra and the sky. Having slept under the Northern Lights outdoors, I started thinking about being able to do it again but inside a nice warm place with a bed.
My mind suddenly switched over to sharing a bed with Nathan all alone up here under those lights…then I started thinking about Lisa. My best dearest friend, who also cared for Nathan every bit as much as I do. While she and I had talked many times about one of us being with him, we hadn’t really…
Suddenly, my phone started to vibrate. I had a signal? All the way out here? Pulling the phone out I saw that I had full bars and a message. It was from Lisa. “It’s your time. Go for it.”
“What?” I stammered, staring at the message in confusion. She knew? But how?
Nathan came over and placed a hand on my face. “Open your mind and listen,” he told me.
Then I heard Lisa’s voice inside my head saying, “Welcome to the family, Bestie. And remember, I love you too.”
“The Sangui-Sapio,” I whispered in shock, “She has some in her as well?”
Nathan nodded. “I only do it with certain people who are very dear to me who I want to keep a close eye on. This way I can be there all the faster in case I’m… needed during an emergency.”
The way he said that last part told me it wasn’t something he wanted to discuss right now. And I was fine with that. Just knowing that my bond with Lisa had become even stronger and made us closer than ever, made me extremely happy.
But not as happy as Nathan did over the next few days and nights…
The Vampyre Blogs - Private Edition 