I am a vampire. I drink blood to survive. I drink blood because I love it. Because I am addicted to it. My body is dead, and perpetually alive. A reanimated corpse. I see things humans don’t see. I hear what they don’t, I feel what they don’t. I don’t feel anything. I am empty. An empty vessel waiting for some passing spirit to give my unlife meaning.
“At some point every vampire has these thoughts, Sister,” I say in perfect Castilian Spanish, leaning casually against the doorframe examining my fingernails. I’ve been with my companion for three days and it’s agonizing how slowly she is adjusting, as if she were doing it simply to spite me. I glance at the pathetic weeping form on the carpet, covering her face with her shaky hands. Was I ever so low as that? I vaguely remember it but, nonetheless, I am glad beyond measure I am a monster now without remorse. It’s less painful this way, and by far more fun.
A long, sobbing moan escapes Celestina’s lips, and she clutches the fabric of her dress at her stomach as if she were plagued with a human sickness. “I c-can’t,” she gasps, unable to look at me through her red eyes. Unlike my accent, hers is less refined, more mestiza. “I c-can’t do this, p-please change me back. Please, I b-beg you.”
“Change you back?” My gold eyes sparkle, flashing with mirth and contempt. “My dear, once your soul is marked with eternal damnation there is no going back.” She wails again, a pitiful sound that is more dog than vampire. That wail can only come from someone religious, I’ve learned in the past. I smirk a little. My religion is now hers. “Come now, pick yourself up. We can have fun, Sister. I’ll fetch you a young fresh maid, yes? I know you like them.”
I think I struck a chord somewhere deep in her soul that transcends her self-loathing. She glares at me hatefully, her dark brown hair matted to her face with tears. “No,” she hisses hoarsely through her choked voice. I roll my eyes and stroll casually to the other side of the room, where I find a bottle of wine and start pouring us both a glass. The swirl of the amber red in the crystal is intoxicating in itself. If only the alcohol could touch my body like it does humans…Alcohol and sex are really the only things I miss. Oh sure, I can still partake of them both…but they fail to give me what they once did.
I turn casually around and glance at Celestina, who has stood and who has been speaking to me while I was lost in my careless reverie. “I won’t,” she was saying firmly. It’s this spunky spirit I’ve fallen in a trance with, so to speak. She cares for things more than a vampire should, but she also cares for things more than a human should. “There has to be another way. I c-could…I could drink from animals. I don’t care if it’s not as good, I – ”
I cut her off with a sharp laugh, halfway between a bark of derision and light, giggling wind chimes. If I had a ducat for every time someone has said that to me… “Darling, animal blood will not sustain you.” I lean against the table, swirling the wine in the glass in my hand, my focus diverted. She poses no threat to me; she is just a fledgling and will soon learn. “Besides, who said you had a choice in what you drank?” I give her a wicked grin, my fangs showing over my blood-red lips as I delicately sip, as if at a dinner ball. “Oh, worry not. I’ll start you off slowly. We can have dinner guests; you like to entertain, don’t you?” She is literally shaking, her fists clenched at her sides, her dress nothing short of rags on her pretty form.
“How can you…How can you just not care!” Her voice has reached a tense high squeak of indignation. The words do not bother me in the slightest. “These are people with lives, and homes, and…” She cannot continue, falling instead into sobs and turning away to hide her face in her hands again, her shoulders shaking. I realize she is probably speaking from experience. She vaguely mentioned a young son when I first took her several days ago, but hasn’t told me her story. I am glad; I do not want to hear it. Some pathetic excuse for not acting as her nature should accord.
I let the silence ring, peppered with those wails jerked from human experience, and then push myself from the table and set down the wine, walking silently across the floorboards, and over the mangled corpse on the ground (thanks to Celestina’s bloodrage – a thing which I warned her about casually), and put my arms around her. She twitches but, as usual for people with outstanding courage, is frozen in fear at my touch. “Hush,” I whisper into her ear. “This weeping will do you no good.” She sways on her feet, trying not to lean into my arms. “Relax.” I brush some of the matted hair out of her face as she shakes more violently than the London Bridge. I realize now why I got rid of that cat I had. Too much work. Ah, but it will be interesting teaching her the ways of our life... “Why don’t you go lie down in your room, hmm?” Silently, she nods and pulls away from me, staggering towards the lopsided doorframe leading from the living room to the bedroom of her hovel. I turn from her and push my black hair back, tucking it into a long black knot at the back of my black tapestry bodice. She is not the least of my worries, but I certainly am not going to fret over her. There are bigger fish to fry. I look down at our unhappy guest and quickly heft him up over my shoulder and walk to the edge of the small village, dumping him amongst the foliage. He’ll be found in a few days, but by that time I hope to have Celestina out of here. It doesn’t do for her to see her relatives or friends. Soon she will be a cold-blooded killer like me, and that is what I want.
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