Surely Someday: Karaoke Soul: Part One
Jul. 25th, 2012 09:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
walkwithheroesName: Nichole
Story: Surely Someday
Piece Title: Karaoke Soul: Part One
Colors: Faded Blue: 9. You'd be hers if only she would call;Tardis Blue:16. Well, if it doesn't, I shall beat it into submission...with my charm.
Supplies and Materials: Oils ("making the right choices")
Word Count: 3,098
Rating: PG
Warnings: descriptions of torture. If anything else bothers/triggers someone, let me know.
Summary: Warren meets a mysterious friend to discuss ‘The Magdalene’. Simon tries to apologize to Henry; Henry catches Andrews stealing from the university
Author's Note: Comments are lovely and I'm always grateful for them.
Thanks toisana for the beta! There were several grammer mistakes this time, and she fixed it all quickly. Isana is the best!
1830
John Whitman, Richard’s cousin, had become her caretaker a year ago. He scared her; he didn’t see her as a living person. He saw her as a thing.
He kept her in the wine cellar of his country estate. The cellar was empty: only the rats kept her company. It was dusty, tiny, and smelt of cheap wine and mold. It reminded her of her stone box. If she had been an animal, Magdalena was sure she would have been shot.
Richard had stabbed and shot Magdalena, and had even let a vampire drink from her. John preferred more classic types of torture. He hated her for reasons she didn’t fully understand; reasons that he probably didn’t understand. Richard Whitman had liked to experiment on her; John liked to torture. He was fascinated by the way she handled pain. John loved the way Magdalena’s wounds healed just as quickly as they were made. He loved the way she never screamed.
His favorite thing was hanging her by rope. John would tie her arms behind her back. The rest of the rope was tied to her wrists and pulled over a hook on the ceiling of the wine cellar.
John would pull on the rope until Magdalena was hanging from her arms. In anyone else, this would have caused pain, dislocation of the arms, and broken bones, but in Magdalena, it caused nothing. Or if it did cause injuries, they healed before he saw them.
Magdalena would hang from the ceiling for hours at time, though she never cried out. She just kept her eyes on John’s. Sometimes she would speak, always the same haunting words;
“You’re not holy or righteous.” Her voice was soft and silky, the blend of dreamy madness and childlike innocence. “I forgive you.”
John always responded by pulling harder on the ropes.
2012
“What the hell am I looking at?” Simon questioned no one in particular. He, Warren, and Maggie were standing in front of the icebox, all staring at a rather long paper that had been attached to its door. Written in bold letters were the words: ‘HOUSE RULES’ followed by twenty rules, written in bright red ink. The paper hadn’t been there the night before, but there it was now - staring at them.
Maggie tilted her head to one side and regarded the paper as a scientist would a new species of animal. “It’s so long and detailed.”
Beside her Warren nodded slowly. “It doesn’t really make sense, does it? Like instructions for putting your future together.”
“I just want to know who Party S is? Am I Party S?” Simon glanced over at Maggie. “Has Andrews finally gone insane? Should we call someone?”
“No,” Maggie began slowly, “no, he’s not insane. I know mental breakdowns and he’s,” she swallowed, suddenly feeling awkward, “he’s just being Douglas.” Squinting her eyes, she leaned closer to the paper. “’Party M shall, at no time, be alone with Party W.’ What does that even mean?”
“It means Andrews doesn’t want us to be alone,” Warren clarified. “And he apparently doesn’t want Simon coming home naked the day after he transforms.”
“Ten times. I’ve done it ten times in five years.” Dramatically, Simon slumped down in the nearest chair. “That’s –“
“Twice a year. Or once every six months; more like once every six transformations.” Maggie cut in with a helpful smile. “Not very much at all and it never bothers me.”
With a curt smile, Simon reached out and patted Maggie’s hand. “Thanks Mag, but no need to make with the math. Let’s just say that Andrews has lost his damn mind and be done with it.”
Warren nodded thoughtfully. “He’s certainly becoming paranoid.”
Simon guessed he could discuss it with Andrews at work: was he crazy or paranoid? He was sure he could bring it up naturally. Like: “Hey Andrews, have you gone insane? Or do you think Warren’s gonna suck Maggie dry?” Maybe Maggie could ask Andrews if he had lost it?
*
Andrews had left home early that morning and headed straight for the biology labs at the university in hopes of finding some kind of sedatives. Andrews knew that the university owned several horses and cows that the biology students often worked with. He also knew that the vet students often assisted local vets on operations. Andrews was sure that meant they had sedatives in the labs somewhere. He was determined to find some of them; maybe five or six bottles would be enough to move Maggie comfortably.
The last time Maggie had been moved, Andrews had used the way that had been used for generations – locking her in a coffin. He refused to put her through that again. No, this time he’d find something that would put her to sleep, if only for a little while. He was sure regular sedatives wouldn't work, but he thought sedatives for animals might do the trick.
Andrews felt like he was going insane .
Andrews had found an old farm house out in the middle of nowhere. The online rent ad stated that it was “Ten miles from the nearest village. Perfect for weekend getaways!” It would be Maggie’s first outside trip and their first trip as a family. Andrews had even fixed it so they would spend the weekend of Simon’s transformation at the farm house; he’d get to roam the farmland freely, instead of being cooped up in a basement .
As for Warren, well, Andrews rather hoped the vampire would be gone when they got back. Even after two weeks he didn’t trust Warren, and he certainly didn’t like how close he had gotten to Simon and Maggie. Hopefully a weekend trip away would allow Andrews to clearly voice his thoughts on the matter: Warren had to go.
*
Henry, tea from a local cafe in hand, found Andrews’ office empty. Setting the tea down on the desk, Henry decided the best thing to do was wait. For two weeks Henry had tried everything to let Douglas Andrews know she was interested in him. She had flirted at every opportunity and brought him countless teas and coffees: any excuse to stop by his tiny office. For a man who appeared to be so intelligent on all manner of subjects, he was completely dumb in the ways of romance.
“Andrews.” the door opened with a loud bang as Andrews’ friend, Simon, entered the office. Henry had only met Simon once. He had snarled at her when she had entered one of the ladies’ rooms. His eyes had been narrowed and there had been something feral about him . Then his irises had been off, almost yellow and his stance had been hutched – like he was ready to attack. Now, he looked more human, but still angry. “That list – who the hell are you?” Simon’s eyes narrowed. He seemed to recall something, which caused him to laugh. “Oh, it’s you; the girl from the toilets.”
Henry shifted nervously in the chair, smiling tightly . “You remember me?”
“I never forget a sm-face.” , Simon cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly. “I’m really sorry about the way I acted before. Bad day, you know? I uh, I’m really sorry if I scared you.” He roamed around the room for several seconds, before settling in his regular spot. “I didn’t mean to act that way. I wasn’t myself.”
Henry nodded slowly. Simon seemed off to her; his moves reminded her of a wolf and their encounter in the ladies’ room still remained fresh in her mind. She wanted to rush past him and out the door, if only because his eyes scared her – they seemed more animal than man. She was certain they had briefly turned yellow that day. And now they were alone in a tiny room with no witnesses. Yes, he had said he was sorry, and she was sure he meant it. However, he still reminded her of an animal, And Henry really didn’t get on with animals, not since that dog had bitten her when she was three.
“It’s not a problem. I’m Henry Harker, psychology department.” She forced the smile to stay plastered on her face. “I was just waiting for Andrews. I brought him tea.” Henry blushed slightly. “I do that sometimes.”
Andrews got tea from the pretty girl (who still smelled divine) and he didn’t share? That was enough to annoy Simon. What was worse was the way Henry’s whole body shifted when she mentioned Andrews. She liked the old idiot? Andrews was in his thirties, he wore bowties, read novels about science crap, and he had Maggie. Nothing was getting in the way of Andrews taking care of Maggie, not even a pretty university student. Simon almost felt sorry for Henry. Almost.
“Feel free to wait.” Simon glanced around and grabbed a magazine from the floor near his chair. “I never start working until Andrews tells me to.” He opened the magazine with a wide grin. “We can keep each other company.”
Henry shifted in her chair, her gaze steady on Simon. “Oh, I think I’ll just go.”
With a speed Simon didn’t think possible; Henry had gathered her things and was out the door before he could even speak. It made Simon smile. Henry was so weird.
*
During the mid-morning hours, Maggie liked to watch DVDs in the parlor. Usually she watched a couple of episodes of a cooking, science-fiction, or fantasy television series , while she knitted something. Currently she was working on a sweater for Warren for Christmas. A week ago she had finished Simon’s yellow sweater. At first she hadn’t thought of knitting something for Warren, but after two weeks it seemed that he would be around for Christmas. For a reason she didn’t fully understand, Maggie rather liked the idea of Warren being around for her favorite holiday.
Maggie was nearly finished with a sleeve when her hands slowly fell from her needles.
Her eyes shifted from the television, her gaze drifting off to something beyond the wall. She could see it – somewhere back in time; the large bed and her Charlie laying in it. His mop of curly blond hair was damp from sweat and his large brown eyes were dull, but he was still smiling. Charlie always smiled at her in the same way, shy and polite. He always said he wasn’t worthy of Maggie’s – Lennie’s – love; she thought she wasn’t worthy of him.
“You can’t leave me, Charlie. You are the only one that cares for me .” Maggie’s eyes filled with tears, and her voice broke with emotion. She reached out to touch Charlie’s face, but felt nothing. “I’m scared. I’m scared they’ll put me in the box again.” She reached out to nothing. “No one loves me but you. I want us to be together forever. Don’t die. Don’t die, Charlie, don’t die. Charlie. . .” Her voice caught in her throat and she screamed.
*
Vampires tended to stay together. Not just in lairs, but also in social settings; if a vampire knew where to look, he or she could easily find a nice place to grab a bite and catch up on all the happenings of the vampire community. Most of the vampire haunts were off the beaten path, away from prying eyes and humans. “Keeping us the elite,” the older vampires often whispered to the newbies. Warren always thought it was a bit pretentious. Still, he needed information and vampires were the best people to get it from.
The building was off a corner street, hidden behind a group of trees. If you weren’t looking for it, you wouldn’t find it. The door was plain black, with the word: ‘Phantasma’ written in white lettering. Instead it was set up as an office: a couple of black leather sofas off to the right, three doors and a fish tank full of tropical fish to the left, and a receptionist desk up against the wall opposite the door. The only thing that marked it as vampire was the bowl of blood, sitting on a small table, between the sofas. Next to the bowl were three cups.
The bell above the door dinged, causing the receptionist to glance up from her cherry red nails. She was a pretty woman of about thirty-four, dressed in the latest fashion, and with a pixie haircut that must have cost a pretty penny, Warren nearly forgot that the receptionist was a hundred year old vampire.
Springing up the receptionist beamed. “Mr. Warren! It’s been forever! Should I tell Mr. Schreck that you’ve arrived?”
“No need,” a chirpy voice stated calmly. Both vampires turned to see a tall and willowy man standing beside the fish tank. His eyes were bright blue, his thinning hair peppered, and his grey suit tailored. He looked every bit the upper class businessman. “I heard him come in.” His gaze shifted to the woman. “Helena, be a dear and take a break. James and I need to have a little chat.” Mr. Schreck waved a hand toward the door farthest from him. “I believe we have twins today.”
Making a perky little sound, Helena nodded respectfully at Warren. She rushed toward the door and disappeared before Warren could blink. A moment later, a scream of fear and pain reached Warren’s ears.
Turning to Mr. Schreck, Warren scowled. “You keep humans here? You drain them for snacks?”
Waving a dismissive hand, Mr. Schreck made his way to one of the leather sofas. “Dear James, don’t be such a drama queen. As I understand it, you’ve done far worse in your time. Though,” his eyes narrowed on the still-standing Warren, “you haven’t been very active in the community lately. I’d say you’ve been off the radar completely.”
So, they had been keeping tabs on him, however small. For a brief moment Warren worried that Mr. Schreck knew where – and with whom – he was living. Keeping calm, Warren let a sly smile spread across his face. No, if Schreck knew, he would have said something; after all, he was never one to not show his hand.
“I’ve been busy. Which is fine, but I’m hearing that some groups are going after werewolves. Does this rumor have any truth?” He laughed softly under his breath. “Such an old school thing to do, hunting the werewolves. I would have thought you’d be against it. It’s so. . .common and unseemly. Don’t you agree, Mr. Schreck?”
Something akin to fear flickered across Schreck’s face. “I agree completely, James. We must never look back. As a species, we must move forward and toward less childish things.”
“Good. Because, if I hear about any werewolves being taken . . .I may just have to call in some favors.” Warren’s sly smile grew wider. “From those way up on the chain.” He turned on his heel, ready to go, but then thought better of it. “One last thing, Mr. Schreck, did you ever find what I asked you for: about other things being immortal?”
Swallowing, Mr. Schreck nodded. “I did.” He stood from the sofa and smoothed out his suit. “Ages ago, there was a rumor of “The Magdalena”, a woman who was fed to a vampire. She didn’t die and the vampire never drank blood again.”
“Never?”
“He didn’t have to.” Mr. Schreck’s chirpy voice had been replaced with nervousness. “Some say “The Magdalena” never died and that she’s a pure demon from Hell. Some say the vampire went mad and walked into a burning building six months after drinking her blood. They say it was a strange man who brought the vampire to “The Magdalena”.” Awkwardly, Mr. Schreck laughed. It was too loud and grated on Warren’s nerves. “It’s all just stories, of course. A legend.”
The idea of “The Magdalena” being Maggie made as much sense as anything Warren had heard. She wanted to know who she was, and more than anything Warren wanted to help her understand herself. Warren laughed softly. “A legend. Childish things to be left behind. I’ll see you, Mr. Schreck.”
“You should stay, James. For our mother.”
Their “Mother”? It was enough to make Warren laugh loudly. “She’s not our mother, Schreck. She’s just the vampire that turned us into monsters.” Without another word, Warren slipped out the door without looking back.
*
Henry had spent most of her morning looking for Andrews. She had searched all over the university; the biology building, the English building, even the drama department. If she didn’t know any better, Henry would have thought that Andrews was avoiding her. On the other hand, she’d run into Simon in two buildings. Each time Henry saw Simon, he smiled and waved. He’d almost be cute, if he wasn’t so animal-like.
Walking through the parking lot of the biology building, Henry stopped short. Andrews was at his car, loading boxes into the backseat. Squinting, Henry could just make out the word ‘sedatives’ on one of the boxes. From the two biology courses Henry had taken she knew that each box of sedatives contained six bottles. Andrews appeared to have ten boxes, or sixty sedatives that were meant for large farm animals. Henry guessed Andrews could take down a couple of elephants with the amount he was taking. Or stealing.
Andrews was stealing sedatives from the university. Insane, kidnapping, murderers stole sedatives from universities. Andrews was a kidnapping murderer! No, Andrews was a nice man; handsome and smart and polite and Henry really liked him. He couldn’t be taking the sedatives for creepy reasons. Maybe he had sixty sick cows that he needed to perform surgery on? That was ridiculous. Who had cows in the city?
She watched Andrews load the last box into his car, still wondering if she should confront him, tell one of her professors, or just let it go. Henry was about to turn away and forget everything she saw when Andrews catch her eye.
“Henry? I didn’t see you.” Andrews walked toward Henry with a skip in his step. He was the happiest Henry had ever seen him. “Would you care to get a cup of tea?”
Henry nodded, plastering a smile on her face. She would let this go; forget she saw him with the boxes. Despite the weirdness of the situation, Henry trusted Andrews. She liked him so much and she was sure he was only stealing the sedatives because they were needed. “I know this great bookstore with the loveliest café.”
Andrews offered Henry his arm. “Shall we?”
Slightly afraid, but also strangely giddy, Henry took Andrews arm. “Let’s.”
TBC in Part Two
Story: Surely Someday
Piece Title: Karaoke Soul: Part One
Colors: Faded Blue: 9. You'd be hers if only she would call;Tardis Blue:16. Well, if it doesn't, I shall beat it into submission...with my charm.
Supplies and Materials: Oils ("making the right choices")
Word Count: 3,098
Rating: PG
Warnings: descriptions of torture. If anything else bothers/triggers someone, let me know.
Summary: Warren meets a mysterious friend to discuss ‘The Magdalene’. Simon tries to apologize to Henry; Henry catches Andrews stealing from the university
Author's Note: Comments are lovely and I'm always grateful for them.
Thanks to
isana for the beta! There were several grammer mistakes this time, and she fixed it all quickly. Isana is the best!1830
John Whitman, Richard’s cousin, had become her caretaker a year ago. He scared her; he didn’t see her as a living person. He saw her as a thing.
He kept her in the wine cellar of his country estate. The cellar was empty: only the rats kept her company. It was dusty, tiny, and smelt of cheap wine and mold. It reminded her of her stone box. If she had been an animal, Magdalena was sure she would have been shot.
Richard had stabbed and shot Magdalena, and had even let a vampire drink from her. John preferred more classic types of torture. He hated her for reasons she didn’t fully understand; reasons that he probably didn’t understand. Richard Whitman had liked to experiment on her; John liked to torture. He was fascinated by the way she handled pain. John loved the way Magdalena’s wounds healed just as quickly as they were made. He loved the way she never screamed.
His favorite thing was hanging her by rope. John would tie her arms behind her back. The rest of the rope was tied to her wrists and pulled over a hook on the ceiling of the wine cellar.
John would pull on the rope until Magdalena was hanging from her arms. In anyone else, this would have caused pain, dislocation of the arms, and broken bones, but in Magdalena, it caused nothing. Or if it did cause injuries, they healed before he saw them.
Magdalena would hang from the ceiling for hours at time, though she never cried out. She just kept her eyes on John’s. Sometimes she would speak, always the same haunting words;
“You’re not holy or righteous.” Her voice was soft and silky, the blend of dreamy madness and childlike innocence. “I forgive you.”
John always responded by pulling harder on the ropes.
2012
“What the hell am I looking at?” Simon questioned no one in particular. He, Warren, and Maggie were standing in front of the icebox, all staring at a rather long paper that had been attached to its door. Written in bold letters were the words: ‘HOUSE RULES’ followed by twenty rules, written in bright red ink. The paper hadn’t been there the night before, but there it was now - staring at them.
Maggie tilted her head to one side and regarded the paper as a scientist would a new species of animal. “It’s so long and detailed.”
Beside her Warren nodded slowly. “It doesn’t really make sense, does it? Like instructions for putting your future together.”
“I just want to know who Party S is? Am I Party S?” Simon glanced over at Maggie. “Has Andrews finally gone insane? Should we call someone?”
“No,” Maggie began slowly, “no, he’s not insane. I know mental breakdowns and he’s,” she swallowed, suddenly feeling awkward, “he’s just being Douglas.” Squinting her eyes, she leaned closer to the paper. “’Party M shall, at no time, be alone with Party W.’ What does that even mean?”
“It means Andrews doesn’t want us to be alone,” Warren clarified. “And he apparently doesn’t want Simon coming home naked the day after he transforms.”
“Ten times. I’ve done it ten times in five years.” Dramatically, Simon slumped down in the nearest chair. “That’s –“
“Twice a year. Or once every six months; more like once every six transformations.” Maggie cut in with a helpful smile. “Not very much at all and it never bothers me.”
With a curt smile, Simon reached out and patted Maggie’s hand. “Thanks Mag, but no need to make with the math. Let’s just say that Andrews has lost his damn mind and be done with it.”
Warren nodded thoughtfully. “He’s certainly becoming paranoid.”
Simon guessed he could discuss it with Andrews at work: was he crazy or paranoid? He was sure he could bring it up naturally. Like: “Hey Andrews, have you gone insane? Or do you think Warren’s gonna suck Maggie dry?” Maybe Maggie could ask Andrews if he had lost it?
*
Andrews had left home early that morning and headed straight for the biology labs at the university in hopes of finding some kind of sedatives. Andrews knew that the university owned several horses and cows that the biology students often worked with. He also knew that the vet students often assisted local vets on operations. Andrews was sure that meant they had sedatives in the labs somewhere. He was determined to find some of them; maybe five or six bottles would be enough to move Maggie comfortably.
The last time Maggie had been moved, Andrews had used the way that had been used for generations – locking her in a coffin. He refused to put her through that again. No, this time he’d find something that would put her to sleep, if only for a little while. He was sure regular sedatives wouldn't work, but he thought sedatives for animals might do the trick.
Andrews felt like he was going insane .
Andrews had found an old farm house out in the middle of nowhere. The online rent ad stated that it was “Ten miles from the nearest village. Perfect for weekend getaways!” It would be Maggie’s first outside trip and their first trip as a family. Andrews had even fixed it so they would spend the weekend of Simon’s transformation at the farm house; he’d get to roam the farmland freely, instead of being cooped up in a basement .
As for Warren, well, Andrews rather hoped the vampire would be gone when they got back. Even after two weeks he didn’t trust Warren, and he certainly didn’t like how close he had gotten to Simon and Maggie. Hopefully a weekend trip away would allow Andrews to clearly voice his thoughts on the matter: Warren had to go.
*
Henry, tea from a local cafe in hand, found Andrews’ office empty. Setting the tea down on the desk, Henry decided the best thing to do was wait. For two weeks Henry had tried everything to let Douglas Andrews know she was interested in him. She had flirted at every opportunity and brought him countless teas and coffees: any excuse to stop by his tiny office. For a man who appeared to be so intelligent on all manner of subjects, he was completely dumb in the ways of romance.
“Andrews.” the door opened with a loud bang as Andrews’ friend, Simon, entered the office. Henry had only met Simon once. He had snarled at her when she had entered one of the ladies’ rooms. His eyes had been narrowed and there had been something feral about him . Then his irises had been off, almost yellow and his stance had been hutched – like he was ready to attack. Now, he looked more human, but still angry. “That list – who the hell are you?” Simon’s eyes narrowed. He seemed to recall something, which caused him to laugh. “Oh, it’s you; the girl from the toilets.”
Henry shifted nervously in the chair, smiling tightly . “You remember me?”
“I never forget a sm-face.” , Simon cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly. “I’m really sorry about the way I acted before. Bad day, you know? I uh, I’m really sorry if I scared you.” He roamed around the room for several seconds, before settling in his regular spot. “I didn’t mean to act that way. I wasn’t myself.”
Henry nodded slowly. Simon seemed off to her; his moves reminded her of a wolf and their encounter in the ladies’ room still remained fresh in her mind. She wanted to rush past him and out the door, if only because his eyes scared her – they seemed more animal than man. She was certain they had briefly turned yellow that day. And now they were alone in a tiny room with no witnesses. Yes, he had said he was sorry, and she was sure he meant it. However, he still reminded her of an animal, And Henry really didn’t get on with animals, not since that dog had bitten her when she was three.
“It’s not a problem. I’m Henry Harker, psychology department.” She forced the smile to stay plastered on her face. “I was just waiting for Andrews. I brought him tea.” Henry blushed slightly. “I do that sometimes.”
Andrews got tea from the pretty girl (who still smelled divine) and he didn’t share? That was enough to annoy Simon. What was worse was the way Henry’s whole body shifted when she mentioned Andrews. She liked the old idiot? Andrews was in his thirties, he wore bowties, read novels about science crap, and he had Maggie. Nothing was getting in the way of Andrews taking care of Maggie, not even a pretty university student. Simon almost felt sorry for Henry. Almost.
“Feel free to wait.” Simon glanced around and grabbed a magazine from the floor near his chair. “I never start working until Andrews tells me to.” He opened the magazine with a wide grin. “We can keep each other company.”
Henry shifted in her chair, her gaze steady on Simon. “Oh, I think I’ll just go.”
With a speed Simon didn’t think possible; Henry had gathered her things and was out the door before he could even speak. It made Simon smile. Henry was so weird.
*
During the mid-morning hours, Maggie liked to watch DVDs in the parlor. Usually she watched a couple of episodes of a cooking, science-fiction, or fantasy television series , while she knitted something. Currently she was working on a sweater for Warren for Christmas. A week ago she had finished Simon’s yellow sweater. At first she hadn’t thought of knitting something for Warren, but after two weeks it seemed that he would be around for Christmas. For a reason she didn’t fully understand, Maggie rather liked the idea of Warren being around for her favorite holiday.
Maggie was nearly finished with a sleeve when her hands slowly fell from her needles.
Her eyes shifted from the television, her gaze drifting off to something beyond the wall. She could see it – somewhere back in time; the large bed and her Charlie laying in it. His mop of curly blond hair was damp from sweat and his large brown eyes were dull, but he was still smiling. Charlie always smiled at her in the same way, shy and polite. He always said he wasn’t worthy of Maggie’s – Lennie’s – love; she thought she wasn’t worthy of him.
“You can’t leave me, Charlie. You are the only one that cares for me .” Maggie’s eyes filled with tears, and her voice broke with emotion. She reached out to touch Charlie’s face, but felt nothing. “I’m scared. I’m scared they’ll put me in the box again.” She reached out to nothing. “No one loves me but you. I want us to be together forever. Don’t die. Don’t die, Charlie, don’t die. Charlie. . .” Her voice caught in her throat and she screamed.
*
Vampires tended to stay together. Not just in lairs, but also in social settings; if a vampire knew where to look, he or she could easily find a nice place to grab a bite and catch up on all the happenings of the vampire community. Most of the vampire haunts were off the beaten path, away from prying eyes and humans. “Keeping us the elite,” the older vampires often whispered to the newbies. Warren always thought it was a bit pretentious. Still, he needed information and vampires were the best people to get it from.
The building was off a corner street, hidden behind a group of trees. If you weren’t looking for it, you wouldn’t find it. The door was plain black, with the word: ‘Phantasma’ written in white lettering. Instead it was set up as an office: a couple of black leather sofas off to the right, three doors and a fish tank full of tropical fish to the left, and a receptionist desk up against the wall opposite the door. The only thing that marked it as vampire was the bowl of blood, sitting on a small table, between the sofas. Next to the bowl were three cups.
The bell above the door dinged, causing the receptionist to glance up from her cherry red nails. She was a pretty woman of about thirty-four, dressed in the latest fashion, and with a pixie haircut that must have cost a pretty penny, Warren nearly forgot that the receptionist was a hundred year old vampire.
Springing up the receptionist beamed. “Mr. Warren! It’s been forever! Should I tell Mr. Schreck that you’ve arrived?”
“No need,” a chirpy voice stated calmly. Both vampires turned to see a tall and willowy man standing beside the fish tank. His eyes were bright blue, his thinning hair peppered, and his grey suit tailored. He looked every bit the upper class businessman. “I heard him come in.” His gaze shifted to the woman. “Helena, be a dear and take a break. James and I need to have a little chat.” Mr. Schreck waved a hand toward the door farthest from him. “I believe we have twins today.”
Making a perky little sound, Helena nodded respectfully at Warren. She rushed toward the door and disappeared before Warren could blink. A moment later, a scream of fear and pain reached Warren’s ears.
Turning to Mr. Schreck, Warren scowled. “You keep humans here? You drain them for snacks?”
Waving a dismissive hand, Mr. Schreck made his way to one of the leather sofas. “Dear James, don’t be such a drama queen. As I understand it, you’ve done far worse in your time. Though,” his eyes narrowed on the still-standing Warren, “you haven’t been very active in the community lately. I’d say you’ve been off the radar completely.”
So, they had been keeping tabs on him, however small. For a brief moment Warren worried that Mr. Schreck knew where – and with whom – he was living. Keeping calm, Warren let a sly smile spread across his face. No, if Schreck knew, he would have said something; after all, he was never one to not show his hand.
“I’ve been busy. Which is fine, but I’m hearing that some groups are going after werewolves. Does this rumor have any truth?” He laughed softly under his breath. “Such an old school thing to do, hunting the werewolves. I would have thought you’d be against it. It’s so. . .common and unseemly. Don’t you agree, Mr. Schreck?”
Something akin to fear flickered across Schreck’s face. “I agree completely, James. We must never look back. As a species, we must move forward and toward less childish things.”
“Good. Because, if I hear about any werewolves being taken . . .I may just have to call in some favors.” Warren’s sly smile grew wider. “From those way up on the chain.” He turned on his heel, ready to go, but then thought better of it. “One last thing, Mr. Schreck, did you ever find what I asked you for: about other things being immortal?”
Swallowing, Mr. Schreck nodded. “I did.” He stood from the sofa and smoothed out his suit. “Ages ago, there was a rumor of “The Magdalena”, a woman who was fed to a vampire. She didn’t die and the vampire never drank blood again.”
“Never?”
“He didn’t have to.” Mr. Schreck’s chirpy voice had been replaced with nervousness. “Some say “The Magdalena” never died and that she’s a pure demon from Hell. Some say the vampire went mad and walked into a burning building six months after drinking her blood. They say it was a strange man who brought the vampire to “The Magdalena”.” Awkwardly, Mr. Schreck laughed. It was too loud and grated on Warren’s nerves. “It’s all just stories, of course. A legend.”
The idea of “The Magdalena” being Maggie made as much sense as anything Warren had heard. She wanted to know who she was, and more than anything Warren wanted to help her understand herself. Warren laughed softly. “A legend. Childish things to be left behind. I’ll see you, Mr. Schreck.”
“You should stay, James. For our mother.”
Their “Mother”? It was enough to make Warren laugh loudly. “She’s not our mother, Schreck. She’s just the vampire that turned us into monsters.” Without another word, Warren slipped out the door without looking back.
*
Henry had spent most of her morning looking for Andrews. She had searched all over the university; the biology building, the English building, even the drama department. If she didn’t know any better, Henry would have thought that Andrews was avoiding her. On the other hand, she’d run into Simon in two buildings. Each time Henry saw Simon, he smiled and waved. He’d almost be cute, if he wasn’t so animal-like.
Walking through the parking lot of the biology building, Henry stopped short. Andrews was at his car, loading boxes into the backseat. Squinting, Henry could just make out the word ‘sedatives’ on one of the boxes. From the two biology courses Henry had taken she knew that each box of sedatives contained six bottles. Andrews appeared to have ten boxes, or sixty sedatives that were meant for large farm animals. Henry guessed Andrews could take down a couple of elephants with the amount he was taking. Or stealing.
Andrews was stealing sedatives from the university. Insane, kidnapping, murderers stole sedatives from universities. Andrews was a kidnapping murderer! No, Andrews was a nice man; handsome and smart and polite and Henry really liked him. He couldn’t be taking the sedatives for creepy reasons. Maybe he had sixty sick cows that he needed to perform surgery on? That was ridiculous. Who had cows in the city?
She watched Andrews load the last box into his car, still wondering if she should confront him, tell one of her professors, or just let it go. Henry was about to turn away and forget everything she saw when Andrews catch her eye.
“Henry? I didn’t see you.” Andrews walked toward Henry with a skip in his step. He was the happiest Henry had ever seen him. “Would you care to get a cup of tea?”
Henry nodded, plastering a smile on her face. She would let this go; forget she saw him with the boxes. Despite the weirdness of the situation, Henry trusted Andrews. She liked him so much and she was sure he was only stealing the sedatives because they were needed. “I know this great bookstore with the loveliest café.”
Andrews offered Henry his arm. “Shall we?”
Slightly afraid, but also strangely giddy, Henry took Andrews arm. “Let’s.”
TBC in Part Two
