The Cost of Revenge

Sometimes the cost of peace is far greater than we are willing to pay. Still, you can take heart in the benefit to the many, the greater good, uneven as it may feel. Richard stayed on for a while tending to personal matters, ridding us of every major threats. He had not yet taken his exact measure of blood and when he had I knew he would never be the same. Thus began another period of peace marked by pain and loss.

I felt such deep anguish observing his interactions with his mother in the months following his mission of vengeance. He had lost a significant parts of himself, first his wife and child and then through his quest for revenge. Now he had to face that hole in himself and come to terms with what he was and what he had done.

Ngozi wanted so desperately to save her son, but in a strange way they were giving each other permission to go on, to forgive themselves. In the months that Richard stayed with us he had not reclaimed any of what he had lost but he was restored. It was amazing to see, and be reminded of, how powerful human love is.  

Richard had given his mother the greatest gift he ever could. His forgiveness, in the face of his own loss, allowed her to make amends. She was finally able to let go. She died quietly after a rare dinner shared by all of us and we found ourselves saddened but not sad. She had said goodbye to us in her own way and she was ready to move on.

Richard surprised me by staying on for three weeks after his mother passed, acknowledging that we shared this particular loss. I also felt that he didn’t blame me for his mother’s death. I was sad to see him leave. He promised he would visit, we even shared a smile. I couldn’t help but think that, at least for now, he had not lost his humanity.

Bleeding Out

It was too easy, his acquiescence, Winston’s rationale. Sure they both had the capacity for these emotions, but I was too hopeful to accept that things were already beyond reason. Now, it was all about power and control.

No sooner had the lights gone out than I felt the concert of movement around me. Winston was no longer in front of me, but he wouldn’t make it far. Richard’s blade and steel staff sang in the night air before making mortal contact with immortal flesh and cartilage.

I moved too sensing Louis close as he threw me a blade from more than a hundred yards away. He stood fending off those who were trying to make their way inside to Ngozi. I turned in time to see Richard deliver the final rites to Winston without hesitation or ceremony. It was time for me to go to work as well.

Seeing their leader fall took the fight right out of all except the most ambitious and crazed of their coven. None of them presented even a remote threat to me and as I worked my way through their ranks I couldn’t help but notice Richard, almost effortlessly, keeping pace with my body count. It was the first time I could see the effect that my blood had on his physical abilities and it was truly a wonder to behold.  

In short order a small group had wisely retreated leaving their mutilated and vanquished behind. Richard and I worked in silent unison to ensure there would be no resurrections, walking the field removing heads and hearts. It was a gruesome sight, but I found myself grateful that we were the ones still standing at the moment. Richard studied each face, still searching for his wife’s murderer.

His face was slick and sticky with sweat and tears and blood, but I was not the one who should console him. He took a deep breath and brushed the tears away, before returning to his grim task. But there were also fresh eyes on us, mourning what we lost in the battle. I turned and followed Richard’s gaze back to the porch where Ngozi was standing. Louis and a few others stood at her back with swords at the ready as she held on to the rail and wept at the sight of her son and I covered in blood, working together…

Dressing the Wound

Richard’s eyes glazed over as the lights grew closer. He became distant and detached once more as his breathing became deeper and steady. A lone figure approached down the pathway before us without any torchlight. The others stopped just on the edge of the plantation and the lone figure continued for a moment before stopping about ten yards short of us. I stepped in front of Richard and looked into his eyes.

“Richard.” I said evenly. “Listen to me. Let me talk to him first. Try to avoid any unnecessary bloodshed.”

He locked eyes with me for a moment and eventually nodded. Louis stood beside him as I walked out towards the solitary figure. Winston’s face was half bathed in the moonlight as I approached.

“So Nicholas, here we are.” He said with a sad smile. “I can’t believe this is what you wanted.”

“It isn’t.” I said evenly. “But if we don’t find some way to mediate things, this will be the final stand for many of us.”

He considered my words and then raised his hand, and then all of the lights went dark…

Vengeance

While Winston prepared his coven to respond, Richard spent his time explaining his mission of retribution to his mother while preparing his blades and steel rod for the work ahead.  Eventually he managed to quite her sobs and stop her tears. Soon she fell into a fitful sleep holding his hand. He sat with her for a few minutes more before gently prying his hand away and joining Louis and I on the porch. We stopped speaking as he approached and Louis turned to him, speaking softly.

“We are truly sorry for your loss.”

“I know.” He said, with a little smile. “But I now understand what I must do with these abilities I have. There are those who need protection from others who would prey on weakness…perceived or otherwise. Someone has to balance the scales. I have a responsibility. I am not a religious man, but I do believe in God and right and wrong. Justice in favor of injustice.” He paused.

“We believe in justice as well.” I said.

He offered a little smile before continuing.

“I am prepared to go on alone. This is my fight and it is personal, but I will not refuse your help.”

“We’re all neck high in it now.” Louis said. “It’s been coming our way for some time.”

“I’m reminded of a quote from Genghis Khan.” He said. “I am the punishment of God… If you had not committed great sins, God would not have sent a punishment like me upon you.” His smile was gone, replaced by the look of resolve I saw hours before when he had returned.

We stood in silence, the three of us, after he was done talking. A light breeze gave some relief to the humid night and I could hear Richards heart quicken as points of light in the distance grew larger, approaching from all corners of the estate.

Blood & Pain

I was happy to see Richard alive, but sickened to see him stained by blood and shrouded in pain. We were being watched by about twenty from Winston’s coven. Richard eviscerated them. He cut them open and drove a steel rod through their beating hearts, sending them to a more permanent darkness.

There was barely a flicker in his eyes when I looked into them. Nothing humane. He seemed detached and resolute. His eyes moistened at the sight of his mother and I left them alone as she wept and tried to clean his hands.

Outside the clean up had already begun, but the remains told the story. Served heads with frozen looks of horror were the ones I found most compelling. They, who had good reason to fear only others like us, had come face to face with another who was mostly mortal and they were the one’s filled with terror.

Richard had joined a watch group comprised of vampires and mortals when he returned to the US and they had taught him a lot in the ways of detecting and eliminating my kind. Louis was acquainted with them and thought that they would be helpful with getting Richard adjusted to living with what he knew and who he was. All this was before he had his family snatched from him, when his life held more meaning. Now he was back to settle accounts with more of an understanding of were the balance of power lay and how much my kind can take from the unsuspecting. So I suppose this scene before me was unavoidable, by his hand or mine. Before long word would get back to Winston and he would have to act. If my actions signaled intent, Richards were a declaration…of war.

Reciprocity

We reminded each other of pain, Ngozi and I. I played the role of protector, but my kind, my blood represented most of what she needed protection from. Weeks passed without incident as an uneasy peace between covens persisted. The mood on the estate was no different. Ngozi was broken since our last conversation. She kept to herself, refusing food and rest. There was little conversation between us and when she did speak, she seemed more comfortable doing so with Louis.

Richard had called once to speak with his mother and after the call she had wept and withdrawn even further. I did not ask what was said or how either of them was coping, it seemed selfish and cruel.

Following my actions in St. James we became active watchers, each of the others coven. Winston seemed to be considering his next move carefully, which suited me fine because I had demonstrated what I was capable of and what I would will myself to do.

Ngozi was giving up though, she seemed to age years in a matter of weeks and I knew even with my blood coursing through her veins she was one of us…death was not far off. She was doing her best to remove my motivation to shed more blood. I however, had seen what we would do if we were not tempered by some sought of human compassion so I was now motivated to protect not just Ngozi now but others like her.

It was a warm still night when I sat outside with Louis discussing my concerns about Ngozi. I could sense the presence of others beyond those who secured our perimeter and then I felt another presence, a familiar presence. This entity would be nearly undetectable if it were not of my blood. Then, those watching us decreased in number.

Shortly after, a figure approached from the far north side of the property and as they cleared a path for him I recognized who it was. It was Richard and his hands were covered with blood…

What have you done Nicholas?

Nothing I had done before would have given Winston any indication that I was willing, perhaps even capable, of such deliberate and sudden savagery. It gave him pause. This is not a fight he wanted. It was the reason he came to me, why he was trying to gain subtle control. He knew I wasn’t invested in leading a coven, certainly not one the size of what ours was be combined, He figured I would happily endorse another if thought they were right to lead and if I would be left alone. Most of this was true, but I also formed a close relationship with mortals which complicated my motivations.

Ngozi knew something of the depth of darkness within me. She had seen a glimpse of it all those years ago when I took a life to save her own. She had never forgotten what she had seen and how unnerved she had been to be in the presence of such extraordinary evil. She was savagely attacked and violated and still managed to look more horrified by what I had done to her attacker…I was the monster and I had become that monster again tonight.

When I got back to the estate the specter of death hung over me. By the looks I got, everyone knew that I had done something to protect us. They looked calm, proud almost, everyone that is but Ngozi. I walked past members of my coven who bowed slightly and cleared a path to Ngozi and Louis, who were seated just outside the study. Louis stood up an approached me, whispering to me the concerns expressed by Ngozi. I looked into his eyes and saw an almost instant recognition of what I had done. He nodded and left me alone to talk to Ngozi. I sat next to her and heard her take a deep breath.

“What have you done Nicholas?” She asked softly.

“Something I should have done a longtime ago.” I answered. “And it means I have effectively ended things or I have started a war.”

“Oh God Nicholas, what have you done?” She said, this time even softer as she buried her head in her hands to shield her tears. I looked at her silently even as I felt the presence of others circling the estate…

My Dark Responsibility

Winston’s words echoed through my consciousness. None of this new breed had seen anything of my strength or wrath. There’s a strange comfort that develops with ignorance and underestimating your enemies. Winston’s visit was an olive branch of sorts. He still held out hope that I would return and work with him…for him. I felt that he still had mostly affection for me, but the threat was also thinly veiled. My blood would be shed as a last resort. He would try.

I left Ngozi in Louis’ care. I had a message of my own to send. As I headed downtown I knew they would find me. Winston, like Malcolm before him, embraced the organizational principles used by lion prides. The women did the hunting. For practical purposes it was always easier for them to bring company back to the coven. Even those women who were invariably driven into a state of frenzied hysteria by their thirst would take victims back to the coven.

When I got out of the second taxi, in the heart of St. James, there was misty rain blowing in from the Gulf of Paria. It was a little after midnight, but this stretch of bars, nightclubs and strip clubs is referred to by locals and visitors alike as the city that never sleeps.

St. James is unpretentious which is why all sections of society feel comfortable having a drink and looking for illicit distractions here after hours. It is popular amongst soucouyants looking for a late night bite. Members of my coven were cautioned to stay away from downtown tonight. I needed time to work.

I could feel their eyes on me and when I was certain of their intent I walked down a dark alley. The rain was coming down in sheets now and I was grateful for the additional cover for what was to follow. I looked up at the closed windows of the residences over some of the businesses, we weren’t being watched. They were close enough for me to smell their perfume now. I stopped with my back still turned and the one closest to me spoke.

“Looking for some company?” She asked seductively.

“I am.” I said evenly turning to face them. I recognized the faces instantly they belonged to Winston. There revealing clothes clung to their wet skin and I felt a stirring deep within, mixed with my blood lust. There was a flash of lightening and a moment of recognition followed like thunder. The smile on the face of the one closest to me disappeared and her jaw slackened.

“I know you…you are-” The sharpened reinforced steel opened her neck and she reached for her throat with both hands, still trying to say my name. The other two moved with blinding speed, approaching from opposite sides. They were outmatched from the start. The beginnings of a crazed scream left their lips, before their heads left their bodies and then I fed. I fed on their bodies in the crazed frenzy that my thirst has always demanded. Their blood tasted like the blood of mortals, like those that they fed on…it was intoxicating. I lost sense of time and when I looked up I saw other figures staring calmly from the entrance to the alley. They were to calm, or perhaps they were frozen by fear. But I knew better, they were from Winston’s coven. I bared my fangs as the downpour washed the blood from my hands.

“Go!” I said. “And tell him this is my answer!”

Heavy is the Head…

She sobbed uncontrollably, for what felt like hours. I watched her twitch for another half hour before, exhausted, she fell into a deep sleep. Louis was at my back, looking over us both. Since his return, his presence had been a welcome, calming influence on me.

“I’ll watch over her.” He said softly. I stopped at his side before I left the room and for a moment put a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you.” I said, turning my mind to other matters. As I returned to the study walking past members of my, now considerable, coven I weighed the decision of asking them to stand with me in a battle against one of us. One who looked more like them and was actually defining their existence on the island, for better or worse. My concern however, is the safety of Ngozi and my new brood. Their decision to leave Winston and join me deserved my respect and loyalty.

I felt his presence before I entered the darkened room. A single boot was illuminated by moonlight as I entered. It quickly disappeared into shadow. I walked over to my desk and sat in my chair with my eyes closed.

“Have you come to talk or for some darker purpose.” I said evenly, my eyes still closed.

“Impressive.” He said with genuine admiration. “I’m sure none of the others know I’m here.”

“I made you.” I said.

“Ah yes. You can sense when I’m close, my feelings as well I suppose?”

“I can feel you.” I began slowly, opening my eyes. “And I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that there is less in the way of feelings that I can sense than before I made you what you are.”

He laughed softly and walked into the moonlight so that I could admire his impressive stature. Impeccably dressed in a dark suit, elegant, enthralling…dangerous.

“You feel so much remorse for what you do. For making me what I am. What I saw as a strength before I became like you I now recognize as…well as something that would make this existence less than it should be.”

“I know. You are not the first to suggest that I should be more grateful for this gift. Is that what were calling it now? This bloodlust, this affliction.”

His smile disappeared, as he studied me considering his next words more carefully.

“I do not blame you Nicholas. I am grateful for what you have done for me.”

“Don’t you mean to you?”

He walked to the window and continued.

“Somebody has to lead Nicholas. One of us has too. For our kind there can be no room for doubt. They all need to know who that leader is.”

“So now you are an expert on what we are and what we need. So my silence is not enough. Our discretion is not enough. You need me to call you leader before all…to bow before you?”

“Please Nicholas. I want you to have your freedom, to lead your own coven as you have been doing…but they feel threatened and uncertain about who is the rightful leader. About who will lead us all if that time comes.” He turned to me, pleading with his eyes.

“Winston I am so sorry. But this does not end well, at least not the way you want it to. Too much has been done already.”

For a fleeting moment before he responded I did feel an emotion from him. Fear.

“I hope you reconsider Nicholas. I didn’t mean for Ngozi to be harmed in anyway…or her family. But, there are no easy decisions for the one who will lead us.” I heard the window open and then silence.

“No.” I said to the empty room. “There are no easy decisions…”

The Makings of War

I remember the beginnings of this tumultuous time as if it were a yesterday from my mortal days. It had been months since Ngozi had seen me, but I was keeping distant watch over her. We were bonded by blood, so even before she showed up at our coven I sensed the sorrow in her. I can only suspect that covens and other extraordinary sects are only able to survive, to remain hidden, by the success of their business interests. Winston’s coven and ours was no different. I was balance the books of our businesses when Louis knocked on the door to my study.

“Please.” I said evenly. “Send her in.” Save for the light from a solitary desk lamp, my office space was in complete shadow. She entered quietly and her sent and sadness seemed to fill the room. She stood still before the empty chair facing me, breathing shallowly.

“It’s good to see you Ngozi. Please, sit.”

When she sat I could see her reddened eyes and puffy face. Still, she was silent, avoiding my eyes.

“I know you are troubled. What is it?” I asked gently.

“I’ve always cared for you Nicholas.” She began slowly. “But I’ve also blamed you for some things. Most of all Richard. But it’s no excuse for how I’ve treated you recently.”

“You never have to apologize to me Ngozi. I have brought unusual troubles to your life.”

“Perhaps, but you have also shown me kindness. I am sorry Nicholas and now I feel like I’ve played a role in a far greater tragedy.” She paused as tears rolled off her cheeks and fell on her hands.

“My son’s wife. My son’s wife and child are dead...they killed them.” Her face was now in her hands, as her body shook with another wave of tears and I soon realized that I was cradling her in my arms muttering no in disbelief…

Pride & Rationalization

It’s interesting how quickly memories of mortality fade for some of us. Winston’s new motivation was tied to the pride and insensitivity of humans. He said that, for the most part, humans were a compassionate race but some of them caused serious harm to themselves and us. Put simply, mortals were conceited enough to believe that not only were they most intelligent of God’s creatures but they were also the greatest. Arguably, we are privy to empirical evidence that differs.

Still, I think absolutes are problematic and this near vindictive defense of superiority lends itself too easily to prejudice and the abuse of power. I concede that I have lived through slavery and have reaped the benefits and privilege that are an accepted norm because of the color of my skin. Similarly I cannot claim to fully understand the stigma and disadvantages that are the result of being colored, but I acknowledge their existence. So it is interesting to see a person of color newly remade with this power argue the pride and conceit of mortals.

Certainly, the new motivations of my friend…my victim, Winston, are more complex than these concepts of privilege and power, but it is part of his rationalization. As a coven we are less active and visible than Winston’s. They are beginning to clearly define their own existence on the island and have begun to form interesting political and business alliances on the island. Our existence is now more than rumor in certain circles, but we remain in the shadows trying not to interfere too much in the lives of those who live amongst us. By its very nature this has set up a very uneasy relationship between covens where our peaceful co-existence seems tentative.

There’s a race dynamic at play as well even though vampires of color dominate both covens. There is no ignoring that Winston is black and I am white. Even I feel he is more entitled, better suited, to be Ngozi’s protector. But I am wary and watchful...

Déjà vu

Compassion is a wonderful mortal trait, but for our kind it’s often a liability…to have it ourselves or for any of you to harbor such a delicate emotion for our kind. I reminded myself of this as Winston moved further from the man I knew. But I was several lifetimes away from the man I was as well. He had to change, he lost everything including his own life in the bargain and now he was without the short lived revenge that had driven him to this point. Maybe the newfound power was enough or perhaps he was still motivated by revenge, revenge for what he now was.

           Katherine’s absence was the beginning of an awkward time for us. Winston said she had to attend to business matters for the coven overseas. It was mostly true, part of our ‘legitimate’ inheritance from the previous leadership. Had I followed my misgivings some of what followed may have been prevented, but lives would have always been lost.

           It was at this time to that Ngozi became bewitched by Winston. She had never been taken in by my kind. Still, she bonded with Winston in a way that she couldn’t with me. She had seen his pain, empathized with him, known him before he became a vampire, a soucouyant leader. So when he asked her to move in with him, to allow him to look after her, she conceded. He understood in ways I couldn’t he was native to the island like she was, they shared the same skin, the same struggle and she was tired of feeling like she could no longer be a part of her own world and unable to live in mine.

           By the time news of the death in Ngozi’s family reached our shores the split in the coven was more than philosophical. I could no longer resist leadership and Winston even consented to almost half the coven who decided they wanted to follow Louis and I. “We want the same things Nicholas.” He had said before we left. “We just differ ever so slightly on how we should go about achieving it.” Maybe he was right. We could co-exist. But really, who was I trying to fool. I had seen this movie more than once and was all too familiar with the ending…

The Devil is in the Details

We experienced another period of calm and what many considered growth. I remained cautious in my optimism that, if not delusional, certainly felt illusionary at times. I did my best to act as an advisor to Winston and initially our new professional relationship worked well, but there was also a subtle division at play. Louis and I may have had better intentions at heart, so to speak, however we were not as politically expedient as other members of our inherited court.

Katherine was enamored with the new leadership and the power it represented. She had witnessed Winston take Marcus’ head and with it his place and had recognized the opportunity to be of service and to be closer to the seat of power. I had seen her kind in this life and the one before and I was certain that she was no stranger to using her wit and charm to achieve her desires.

It was clear to me, and not before too long, that there were two distinct arms of our new executive. Louis and I were decidedly more comfortable with remaining in the shadows, discreetly acquiring wealth, and assisting our mortal counterparts when the opportunity arose. While Winston, who was now constantly accompanied by Katherine, had little misgivings about demonstrations of our superior strength and resources.

Winston was driven to leadership by revenge and perhaps his sense of reason had perished with Marcus. In any event, he maintained that there was work that we could do to the benefit of the people and the island. And because he was so recently one of them, fighting in defense of better for his people, and because both Louis and I wanted to stop taking from this beautiful country and its people we accepted. We wanted desperately to believe that we could work together to somehow change our lot, but if you have been following my story to this point you know that this power that we have is all consuming…corrupting. There were things being whispered into Winston’s ear that would ultimately prompt an impulsively act that would seriously impede any progress we made to this point.

Playing God

Not all movement signals change. Nonetheless we were trying to change the game with the cards we were dealt. The coven operated under same pretenses it had with Marcus, only now for a supposedly higher purpose.

Ngozi remained conflicted about me and my dealings, new developments not withstanding. She had bonded with Winston in a moment of extreme grief, they had both been made to suffer because of my kind…because of me and now he too had become someone else, something else.

Louis returned to join our new order, and it felt good having another pair of eyes and ears I could trust. Their initial assignment to look after Ngozi and her child in the United States had long ended and so Elizabeth stayed behind and he had returned to, in some ways, look after me.

It was strange being led by the youngest among us, but none of us really wanted the job that Winston had so willingly accepted. If there was a hierarchy to our coven, Winston was at the head, followed by myself, Louis and a young, beautiful soucouyant named Katherine who had proven herself to Winston.

There is always a temptation with beings of higher ability and intelligence to be so seduced by their own power that they begin to take more credit than they should for life and death. A dangerous precedent to be sure. Looking back on our beginnings, which in many ways had the noblest of intentions, I wish now that we paid more attention to the liberties that we were taking with the beings that we considered weaker than ourselves and the lives we decided were ours to judge and take. We had started down a road that many before had taken and which almost always ended in the death of innocents…

The King is Dead…

This thing, this virus that infects our blood, that becomes our blood, affects each of us differently. Some are too weak to be turned. Our blood overwhelms them and they ultimately die a mortal death never to be re-born in this manner…More likely though, their resistance to this affliction is a sign of strength and their one death something purer than anything most of us could hope for.

This dark seducing power is difficult to resist and harder still to manage. I struggle to say that I am any better than those who fully embrace what they have become. Sure I try to live by a different code, but I am no different a monster. After long periods of resistance I invariably give into the thirst and feed on those I deem deserving of such an undignified end.

I know I am no different a monster because I continue to infect the lives of those I envy. I try to convince myself that this concern for their well being comes from genuine feelings of love, but this emotion is as distant as my own mortality. Certainly I have memories, but they belong to a different time, a different man.

I know I am a monster because when I look at Winston I no longer see the wondrous imperfections that made him interesting and beautiful. Between his lust for revenge and the effects of my blood there was no longer space for that man, so he became another, bearing little resemblance to his former self. Still, if he no longer cared about the things that concerned him as a mortal, he still appeared motivated by them.

He had not only defeated Marcus, he replaced him. It was an outcome no one expected. He was suddenly the head of a large group of highly efficient, loyal soucouyants, which prompted many questions. Can we co-exist with mortals, live by some pre-determined rules where we prey on only the most sinister elements of mankind…those most deserving? Murders, rapists, pedophiles, abusers, do we dare to formalize our existence? Use our Godlike abilities for a different end? This is what Winston saw as the future for this coven. Winston who now found a way, it seemed, to live with his abilities beyond cold, steady, revenge. And I who desperately needed to believe in a higher purpose for my existence listened. This was not about our place of privilege on the food chain; this was about removing those who preyed on the weak. Ironically, who would be better qualified than us? We could of used our newfound loyalty to put an end to the coven, and even ourselves, but then what? Weren’t there more of us out there waiting to ascend to this position with even more opaque agendas?

 Beyond my own questions I was uncertain that I could trust my creation, but I felt optimistic about our agenda, if I felt anything at all. Winston’s leadership represented change that did engender some sense of emotion in me, a feeling that we could attempt to turn this dark gift on its head and use it towards different ends. Marcus was no more and this I conceded, must be a good thing. The King is dead, long live the King…

Ascendency

Like Marcus, I too was tired. Perhaps more than he could hope to understand, because I had been uneasy with my abilities even before he was made in a similar image.

I had done all I could and running didn’t seem to be an option. Ngozi was tired as well, of an existence so near death. The effects of her refusal to feed the need my blood demanded. She had made her peace and as uneasy as I was with her decision I had to respect it. If what I felt for her was love, and not just some misplaced responsibility, then I had to respect her and her wish to die if that was her fate. Her own unyielding faith had brought her this peace and, in some ways, to this end. I was inspired by her belief in life; just I was confounded by her faith in me.

I envied Winston as well. He had transformed, right before my eyes, in a way contrary to Ngozi because he saw the acceptance of my blood as a means to an end. I had given him the tools to exact a measure of vengeance from those who took his family from him, but he did expect that the war would take this second life from him, before he ever had to face what he had become. It was enough to get him through, enough he rationalized, to get him to a more acceptable end.

As our threesome made our way to Marcus’ lair, high in the hills, I tried to determine if I was tired enough to be resigned to whatever my ‘fate’ was. Would that give me the peace I so desperately sought? 

It was a surprisingly pleasant walk through the trees and brush, only Ngozi’s deeply drawn breath served as an immediate reminder of our predicament. It was clear what had caused her near gasp. Marcus was standing before us flanked on either side by four of his coven. He looked regal. Dressed in a black shirt and slacks, partly covered by a black cape lined by red fabric, draped around his shoulders. The imagery was as strong as the message. We were here for a public execution. He would remove all doubt and re-establish order with our deaths…our ends, and it would all happen on his terms, by his design.

His lips parted but instead of the flowery language that I was sure would precede our last rites he made an unusual, almost gagging sound. There was a trickle of blood down the right corner of his mouth and his head tilted in this direction until, unexplainably, it fell off. As it hit the forest floor with a sickening thud, time seemed to slow down. What happened?

When I noticed Marcus before us I felt a breeze no different from the wind that greeted us on our walk, but it was. Winston, moving with the wind, had removed both blades he carried (local machetes called cutlass’ filed to a razor edge) and with the blades facing out and his hands crossed, had stepped behind Marcus and extended his arms. His body was still falling as his charges pieced the events together, but by then it was too late. Winston had not ceased moving and now I was on the move as well.

I caught Ngozi before her knees gave out from the shock or thirst provoked by the sudden bloodshed. As she sobbed quietly into my chest something else was happening. Nearly a hundred of Marcus’ coven surrounded us, but they were no longer threatening. They were on their knees. With the blood of their brothers still fresh on our blades they, it seemed, had chosen another to lead them and Winston seemed undisturbed by his sudden ascendency…

Consequence

Two short weeks. This was all the time required to shift the balance in our world and Winston was the holding sway over the pendulum. Fourteen days. This can seem like seconds in our protracted existence and may account for the distance between what my young apprentice was doing to Marcus’ coven and the consequences for these actions. I knew however, that this apparent lapse judgment would be addressed presently.

As Winston’s maker I was responsible for him and his instruction, for a time, but he had exceeded both my direction and expectations. It may seem counter intuitive to suggest that someone who is not quite alive harbors a death wish. But is it odd for a harbinger of death to be obsessed with it? In any event Winston was unconcerned with a second death. When I expressed my concern for his ‘second life’ he simply stated. “How many times can they kill me Nicholas? How many deaths can I truly suffer?” I felt that he already understood that there were things far worse than a simple death.

He had one goal, to destroy as many of Marcus’ clan as possible. What’s more is that he fully expected, and was actively courting, the reckoning that was the certain end to his efforts.

Marcus was tired of my ambivalence towards him and our kind and beyond incensed by the bold actions of my underling. He had no problems now thinking himself the rightfully leader of all soucouyants on the island. Which is why when we were delivered a hand written note to meet with Marcus the tone was more demand than request. Expected. He would see us all tonight. He expected us there period, and there was no need to guess at the consequence if we didn’t comply. Our move. The fight that Winston took to them had finally made its way back to us and I was prepared for the battle and more loss…

Public Defender

The man once known as Public Defender now fully embraced his moniker for darker and far more intimate purposes. I was, all at once, fascinated and disturbed by just how much he had changed. More than the remarkable physical transformation or the stark changes in his manner and speech he was different in ways I had not seen before. Something in his, dear I say, spirit was markedly different. Why wouldn’t it be?

I know that I too have been changed and my own spirit altered, in ways that I refuse to acknowledge, but I still carry the distant memory of my own mortality with me and aspire to what must now be romantic notions of a humanity all but lost.

In quiet moments I see him struggle with sudden flashes of emotion, residue from a former existence, memories from his own life. But it was hard to tell what was left of the man I had grown to know through his eloquent expression and passion for his people. He was now an avenger and he was quite passionate about his work.

That first night he steadied his resolve with the memories of the horrors that he had witnessed and quenched his new thirst with the blood of our own kind. What was more remarkable was how cunning and elusive he had become. This was a man who had some experience with violence but, who, had never thought about taking a life. Near dawn he returned with blood on his hands and soaking thru his shirt. All he said, before going upstairs to the bath was that we should not worry, the blood was not his. Later, after Ngozi acquiesced to fatigue, he told me that he couldn’t believe how easy it was to pick them out. Strangely enough they couldn’t pick him until it was too late. He had lost count after seven.

As he spoke I listened to his new tone, his choice of words. I studied his mannerisms. It was like looking into a mirror and seeing a different kind of darkness reflected. He had acted, without much thought of consequence or care for his own ‘life’ such that it was. His only concern was in the reckoning that they had undoubtedly brought upon themselves.

As the sun began to peak over the horizon he grew silent, shut his eyes and did something that I have had little success with in far too long. He rested. I sat listening to the sounds of the house and Ngozi and of life stirring just outside. Enjoying the clam…

Becoming the Thing You Hate

Nothing could have prepared Winston for the transition. Not even I could predict how this, my, particular strand of our shared affliction would affect him and whatever was left of his spirit.

I saw the regret linger in his eyes for a long time after he took his first breaths as a new being. This ‘gift’ cannot be refused but for a time, more considerable than I have seen, he struggled against what was already a growing dark need. I offered him hushed explanations of what he might be feeling and the grim reminder that the thirst would have to be addressed sooner rather than later.

He looked at me and nodded. There was no hate or blame behind them, only an undeniable fire…anger. He seemed reluctant to use his voice, not quite certain he hadn’t also been ‘gifted’ the voice of the monster he had become.

“Let me go with you.” I said gently. “I should be your guide when first you feed. You were a man before, but you are babe in the matters and mysteries of your new existence.”

He stood up, straight and tall, still negotiating his new strength and senses. He seemed sure on his feet, secure in a way that spoke to an experience he had yet to glean as a vampire. He was in good physical shape before, but now he appeared at least ten years younger. As with each of us that is made, something unique had occurred with the co-mingling of our bloodlines.

“No.” He said evenly. He paused. His voice had changed. It was deeper and smoother. Seductive. “Thank you Nicholas, but I would like to have this experience to myself.” He looked into my eyes and there was now a strange calm in his. “Stay with Ngozi. I can take care of myself.”

I felt the hypnotic effect of his gaze. The strength and apparent control was surprising. “Be vigilant.” I said finally.

He clasped my shoulder before disappearing into what was left of the night. Ngozi stood next to me wordlessly and after a few moments I felt the warmer flesh of her hand pressed against my cool skin.

In a strange way it felt like we had sent our own creation into a cruel and unforgiving new world. We were both invested in Winston, hopeful that he could still manage to have some semblance of a life. But first he needed to survive this night and neither one of us would rest until he returned…

In for a Penny, In for a Pint

I should not have made another. The pleas of Ngozi and the strong silent presence of Eli should have been enough deterrent. But, his pleas were stronger. My life, such that it is, has been rife with misguided intent and when I looked into his eyes I saw that he too was tired. Tired of being marginalized and ignored, tired of losing everything with only the promise of more suffering.

He accepted the trade off. I thought that death might have been the eventual end for them and indeed for him it was, in the way it is for me. He mourned for the lives of his loved ones and his own mortality and yet saw a strange promise in his own making. He saw as a means to make amends for not being able to defend his wife and children. To correct his shortcomings as a husband and father. A small measure of retribution.

As my new disciple opened new eyes to an old world I wept for my part in his corruption, as yet unaware of how great an alley he would become and how pivotal he would be in the war to save his countrymen…

Beyond Blood

I struggle to feel more, for some sense of emotion. The more time passes the less certain I am that I feel anything beyond a manufactured sense of concern, a jealous need to be something I haven’t been for a very long time.

Winston displays many of the attributes that I am envious of, not least of which is his capacity for forgiveness. Remarkably, he seems to find space for a measure of sympathy in the midst of his profound loss.  He wasn’t afraid to die, even after what he had seen. His anger was well directed at a tangible evil.

After hours of avoidance Ngozi found me sitting in my study in the dark. She sat beside me in silence for a moment.

“What’s happening Nicholas?” She asked evenly.

“His name is Marcus. He was made by my maker, perhaps as my replacement. In any event, he is a believer in the superiority of our kind and put simply if I’m not with him…if I’m not helping the cause of our kind then he believes loss will teach me the error of my ways.”

“The loss of those you care about?”

“The loss of anyone, anything that is not of us.”

I felt her warm hand on mine.

“You’ve kept me safe for so long Nicholas, but this is different. I have never seen anything come after you. I don’t know what we can do, but Winston wants to help. He doesn’t want to die like his family, he at least wants a fighting chance.”

“I’m not sure I can promise anything more than that, but I believe I owe you both that much at the very least. I will do my best to keep you safe, but when Marcus decides to send others or show up here himself there will be more difficult decisions to be made.”

I turned to the doorway where Winston stood breathing deeply, choking back a fresh wave of tears…

The Living Dead

There was nowhere to run to. In fact my estate was safer than most places that we could be under these particular circumstances. I understood that my death was not Marcus’ immediate goal. He had made his, bloody, point and would give us all time to consider the implications, to mourn and appreciate the lesson.

Ngozi understood his loss in a way that I couldn’t beyond my intentional sense of guilt. They talked quietly for hours and shared tears, achieving the kind of beautiful intimacy that is only capable with people who have a shared transformative experience…mortals. I stayed out of sight, but couldn’t help but hear their exchanges.

His name, I learned, was Winston. He realized from very young that he wasn’t only aware of the injustices of his island existence, but he also seemed to have an unusual ability for expressing the complexities of these situations in very accessible language. But there was no place for a truth teller in a society that was suspicious of its own citizenry and still felt a twisted sense of loyalty to its colonial past.  His talent pushed him to the fringes of his own society where he became a champion to the masses and occasional entertainment to the upper class. An outsider.

And while he wrestled with his grief and feelings about me, there was lots more for me to consider. I was not sure that I could save them both. But that was Marcus’ point. He saw any prolonged interaction with mortals as a futile exercise in inevitable loss. He loved referring to them as mortal, because of what it not so subtly said about us. Of course, in a very practical way he was right. Still, what I remembered of being human went way beyond avoiding uncomfortable situations. I recalled the choices and opportunities for growth and progress as long as our actions delivered on the promise of our intent. I exist with the consequences of my own error in judgement and believe I still have the opportunity to change.

Perhaps we were both misguided idealist, but I felt disingenuous for feeling empty about the possibility of immortality. Two more lives hung in the balance and I was weary of having so much power and so little control. Maybe a certain death was the only way to save them both... 

Who Decides…

It was a painful choice, made quickly. I would go to Ngozi first and hope that Marcus was wrong. I could not know how many were sent, or how much of a head start they had, so I pushed my unnatural body to extraordinary limits.

I approached Ngozi’s house from the open field to the back of her house. It was still and quiet. I stopped a few meters from her back door and sensed no other presence beyond her steady heartbeat. I could feel her eyes on me, studying in the dark.

“I’ve been expecting you.” She said flatly, from where she was sitting to the left of the door. She never talked much about our connection, or how she was affected by it, but I have always suspected that she could sense my presence and perhaps much more.

“I need you to come with me. To stay with me for a while…you know I respect your independence, but this is unavoidable at the moment.”

She allowed my unexpected request to breath a moment.

“I know it must be bad…I still want an explanation when there is time though.” She said before disappearing into the house before returning with a small bag.

“Hold onto your bag.” I said picking her up. She looked up to me and smiled before closing her eyes for the frenetic journey back to the estate.

As I stopped on the fringe of the estate, I could smell blood in the air. I sensed eyes following us. Beyond the night sounds of crickets and toads, it was eerily quiet. Ngozi's forehead was slick with sweat that also dotted her upper lip. She gripped my hand tightly as we avoided the clear path to my front porch.

Marcus never sent anyone for Ngozi I thought, that would be too obvious…this was about teaching a different lesson. Still, there was no sign of his hunting party. There was something ahead that looked like a pile of mannequin parts covered in red tobacco sauce. I stopped abruptly and turned Ngozi away from the small heap of broken flesh before us. It appeared to be two, perhaps three, young children that were fed on and left as a macabre marker.

There was something else. I was suddenly aware of shallow breathing and near silent sobbing. It was coming from someone with a heartbeat. We made our way to the back of the house where my new friend, my latest victim, knelt cradling his wife, covered in her blood…

Lucidity…

They came out of the darkness, silently through the fog and light rain. I let them take me without incident. I would find out more about their coven this way, it was an unexpected moment of clarity.

Marcus walked ahead as I was led further up the street. We walked for some time, going higher and higher until we left the road and tracked even higher through lush vegetation and purple-heart trees. Twilight was pinning her cloak, but even under the scrutiny of the midday sun where we came to rest could pass unnoticed.

Using the ready supply of purple-heart wood they built a structure in a large clearing and around existing trees. Perhaps Marcus was a carpenter in his previous life, before becoming less than a messiah.

There were sentries on duty that seemed to be expecting us. It was all very organized, exactly what I had come to expect from Marcus. Inside, the structure was just as impressive. The ceilings were high, made from logs that were linked together with space enough between for the room to breath and ease some of the natural humidity. The smooth floor was made of sturdy planks suspended about a foot from the damp forest soil. Even the furniture, chairs, tables, was made from beautifully varnished Purple Heart. It was all well illuminated be kerosene lamps, fixed in holders equally spaced high on the walls.

My revere was interrupted when I was shoved near a seat in front of Marcus who was already seated on a larger chair that resembled a throne. It was situated on an elevated platform and was larger and more ornate than any other piece I saw. I sat before him and for a few moments more he just glowered at me, as he struggled to control himself. Then that charismatic, eerily controlled smile spread across his face.

“Father told me it would be like this.” He began. “Still, I can’t say that I’m not disappointed. Apart from him, you are the most beautiful of our kind that I have seen. We are all in awe of you. Even your struggles with your true nature are endearing. Tragically, it is also a sign of your weakness…one of the signs.”

If I thought him capable of empathy or sadness, I would say he even looked sad. More than likely though, what I saw was disappointment.

“You even sound like La Safer. He must be very proud.” I said with a smile of my own. “What I don’t understand, what I have never understood, is if I am such a disappointment why hasn’t ‘father’ as you call him, taken this gift back himself?”

“Oh something you don’t know.” He began somewhat amused. “I’ll be happy to clear that up for you. You see, I’m not quite sure if he can or can’t but I do know that he has chosen not to interfere in our new lives beyond our remaking. In much the same way that God is responsible for the lives of mortals but has given them freedom of choice.” He seemed quite pleased with his analogy.

“So we are all acting out some twisted passion play for his amusement is what you’re saying.” I said.

“I don’t think that’s what I said. In any event, it is unfortunate that it has come to this.”

“To what?” I said.

“Another teaching moment. Because you insist on identifying with them, living among them…loving them.”

And then it dawned on me. I had put new mortals in more immediate danger than I had imagined. I feared a death squad was already nearing my estate or worst to Ngozi.

“I’m certain that you understand from the look in your eyes.” He continued. “I know we can’t hold you here. Choose wisely. You can’t save them all.”

“We are not done.” I said coldly, before disappearing into the night.

Every Action…

Marcus met me on the street that led to his house. I could sense the presence of others as he approached but they stayed out of sight. Grey clouds hung low, making it prematurely dark for early afternoon.

“Walk with me.” He said smiling as he put an arm around my shoulder. We walked pass his house in silence, past a small two bedroom house where three young men smoking marijuana on the front porch fell silent as we walked by. The frequency of houses decreased and soon we were between a smattering of trees and high bush.

“How have you been Nicholas?” He said breaking the silence.

“I’ve been good.”

“Have you.” He said removing his arm.

“Is everything alright?” I asked stopping.

“No Nicholas, things are not alright, at least not for me.” He said, walking off the road and stopping beneath an old mango tree. I followed him as a light drizzle began. His back was still turned as he continued.

“I’m troubled Nicholas, more so because this doesn’t happen to me very often. Being troubled that is, by anything. What really concerns me is that I strongly suspect that you know why I’m troubled and I would like nothing more than to be wrong…which also doesn’t happen too often. Do you know why I’m troubled?” He asked. He still hadn’t turned around. My mind raced.

“No, I don’t know why you’re troubled.” I said. He was gripping the trunk of the tree so hard that bark was cracking under his hand. The drizzle intensified and a low mist hung in the field we were standing in. I was aware of the fragrant smell of mangoes, the sound of water dripping off leaves and the apparent stillness of Marcus.

“My wife is missing.” He said. “No missing is not quite right. I am certain that she has been killed, in as much as our kind can be killed. Destroyed may be more appropriate, but whatever the correct term may be I am incensed. It is an affront to me. There must be consequences.”

“Why do you think something has happened to her?”

“She is one of us!” He said tersely. “Of my blood. Strong and ruthless. Loyal. If she could be here she would be. Something has happened.”

“And why do you think that I would be aware of such a tragic development?” I said with as much indignation as I could muster.

“Because my dear Nicholas.” He began, turning to face me with eyes that appeared to glow red. “She was going to follow you when I saw her last.”

A New Wrinkle

The man who sang under the sobriquet Public Defender wasn’t only a talented calypsonian, but his craft also demanded an attention to detail and an awareness of his environment. I was not sure what he saw or would remember of our brief encounter but I would have my answer in short order.

I had to maintain appearances. I was about to leave the estate to visit Marcus when I picked up a familiar scent. I sat on the porch crossed my legs and waited. Moments later I saw him, walking briskly, removing his gray fedora to mop the sweat from his brow with a white, sweet smelling handkerchief.

As her approached my porch he fussed with his gray shirt, black slacks and belt and seemed startled to look up and find me sitting with my eyes fixed on him. He stopped at the steps and removed the hat again, wiping rivulets of perspiration from his face. He smiled nervously and I could smell the alcohol on him that was poorly disguised by cologne and breath-mints.

“Ah sorry to disturb yuh Mr. Nicholas, but ah would appreciate a moment of yuh time?”

“Please.” I said standing slowly and indicating the empty chairs. “Have a seat. I’ll get you something cold to drink?”

The handkerchief was out once more patting his face, head and neck. “Dat is not necessary Mr. N- ”

“Nonsense.” I interrupted evenly. “I’ll get us both some water for the heat and please, call me Nicholas.”

He smiled and nodded, perched at the edge of a chair. I returned with a pitcher filled with ice and water and two glasses. I poured us both a drink and sat.

“So tell me.” I said taking a sip. “What brings the great Public Defender to my humble estate?”

Some color was returning to his face and he sat back enjoying the gentle breeze and water.

“Well. Ah recognize yuh from some uh the shows at Mas Camp. Yuh always real nice to everybody and to me with yuh tips. The money does help mih family.”

“I wish I could do more. You are a gifted performer and composer. What you do and what you have to say, it’s important…necessary.” I said smiling. “But you sought me out, found my estate to do more than express your thanks.”

“Yes.” He said nervously, shaking his right leg. “Ah was drinking last night. Ah was drinking, but ah sure ah see you on mih way home.”

“I see.” I said breathing evenly. “And just what do you think you saw?”

“Ah drink too much sometimes. Ah know dat, but ah not crazy and I aint no fool. Is not the first time either that ah see something like this.” He focused on a point just to the left of me. “Ah lose a child to something like this. But ah not blaming you. You coulda kill me anytime yuh want, but yuh save me instead. So yes, ah want to thank you for a lot.”

I raised my hand to stop him. His gratitude made me uncomfortable. “You probably understand a lot more than I think you do, but I fear I may have put you in more peril by saving you…by following you to begin with.”

“What kinda peril?”

I pressed my eyes shut and took a deep breath, trying to put off making another bad decision.

“I want to offer you a job and a place to live. Get your family and bring them back here.” I reached into my pocket and removed a set of keys, putting it on the table between us. “Use this to get in and make yourself at home.”

He looked at the keys then at me suspiciously.

“Yuh want me to trust yuh. After what I see? Why? Ah doh understand.”

“I’m trusting you and I hope that’s enough for now. I’ll explain everything when I get back. But there is somewhere I need to be to ensure that things don’t get any worse.”

After a moment he took the keys and walked slowly out of the estate, looking over his shoulder until he was out of sight.

No Good Deed...

Bloodlust, supernatural abilities and near immortality can make you restless. Then there was Marcus and his family. The trade-off for my time spent with them was a deepening sense of guilt. It was easy to be around them but I could not relax, I could not allow myself to fully embrace my ‘gift’.

Not for the first time I questioned my love for this island, its people and their culture. Was it something pure or had it been tainted by what I had become and my belief that I could use my extraordinary abilities to right things? Of course, I knew intimately that the road to Hell was paved with intentions just like mines but I couldn’t turn a blind eye to the destruction of lives and dreams.

I enjoyed the art of social commentary through song, called calypso that was practiced by skilled local artistes called calypsonians. Their lot was the same as many singers and song writers the world over, but they carried the moniker of starving artiste proudly. When I attended shows I suspect they knew that the, often, lone Caucasian at the back of the room had something to do with the substantial contributions for the night.

I’m not proud to say that I would follow some of them after their performance, especially if I found them particularly entertaining. It was never with the intention to interrupt or inject myself in their lives. I was just fascinated by their creative process, their relationships, their struggles…their life.

I followed one tonight. I have followed him before. He has the ability to describe the problems of the country with clarity and wit and when he is on stage you can tell that this is what he was born to do. He is the father of three and lives in a two room shanty with his wife and children. He’s unfaithful and unhappy, and has to drink heavily after a performance so that he can go back to his life. A life I envy.

I follow him from a bar in the city to the outskirts, along the moonlit dirt track that leads to his house. He’s still a couple hundred yards away, taking a few moments between steps to steady himself and protect his guitar. Chest high weeds border the track and before the burning figure appears before him I sense we are not alone. He raises his hand to shield himself from the light and heat. I cover the distance between us in a breath. As the figure reaches for him I tackle it, the momentum carrying us into the bushes. I hear a low hiss followed by laughter.

“I knew you were not with us, now Marcus will too.” The female voice whispers.

For a moment I am confused and angry. I bare my fangs and maul the soucouyant who is defenseless against my attack. Moments later I am covered in blood. I am not sure who I have destroyed, only that they are linked to Marcus. Beyond my breathing all I hear is the sound of erratic footsteps fading into the night…

The Beautiful Struggle

It would be easier if I did not care about my distant mortality or my mortal relationships. Far simpler if I were not genuinely fond of Marcus Anthony. It has been two weeks since our second meeting and I now spend some part of each day with him. Our kind instinctively recognizes weakness and exploits it, so for me there was no plan beyond waiting for an opportunity.

While I am understandably circumspect of Marcus and his family, they welcome me with open arms. They are considerate of each other and me and seem, dare I say, almost normal. There are many questions that I have about them and their curious dynamic but other questions are more pressing. Still, it is an unsettling comfort to be in their company.

There are twelve others that work for him, that he calls his extended family, his brood. Marcus is a natural leader, charismatic, convincing and completely convinced by the message he instills in his brood. They are disciplined and loyal and I am uncomfortable in their presence.

I suspect Marcus knows that I am opposed to his belief in our domination, but for the moment we both seemed content with the easy friendship and respect of an equal. As a token of his goodwill Ngozi is safe. He says we are brothers in a far deeper way than actual siblings. We were, both, chosen by La Safer and he believes this to be a great honor.

“We are a select few.” He said to me. “Our bloodline is divine and while we can make others of our kind none are as close to beautiful perfection as we are. It is my sincere hope that you see that it is our right and responsibility to lead our kind.”

His words were chosen well and not entirely unreasonable, but I knew that I could be equally persuasive. More seductive is the easy acceptance by another of my kind who saw me as both prodigal son and misguided big brother. He is genuine in his affection, dare I say love for me, but he is also very deliberate in the use of his family to create the sense of emotions I crave. Still, we stand at philosophical extremes so I know, ultimately, this will end badly for both of us…

The Friend of my Enemy

Marcus left himself open to me which made him a lot easier to find. He lived on the foothills overlooking the growing town of Arima. His house was above his business which, I had to admit, displayed a sense of brash genius. The sign in fancy script read Anthony’s Funeral Home.

A pretty pre-pubescent girl in a yellow and white polka dot dress approached the gate before I could call on Marcus. She looked to be an ordinary girl, but I know my kind. I removed my hat and she gave me a little smile before she opened the gate.

“You are here to see my father.” She said. It was not a question.

“Your Father?” I asked.

“Yes, Marcus.”

“Yes I am.” I said.

“This way.” She said turning her back to me skipping up the three steps that led to the double doors of the business. “He’s expecting you.”

She led me past a receptionist’s desk to an office door which displayed a tile in formal lettering that read Marcus Anthony – Owner / Manger. She stopped and turned abruptly.

“I am Clara.” She said warmly, extending her hand. “It was nice meeting you Mr. Bourbon.” And then she turned and skipped away, eerily convincing. The voice that came from the office startled me for a moment.

“Nicholas, please come in.” Marcus’ tone was just as warm and I did feel like I was being welcomed by a brother. It was my first time seeing him and he was an impressive representative for our species. He was powerfully built and stood nearly six feet tall with skin the color of brown sugar and short cropped, black curly hair. He made an expansive gesture with his hands and exposed a near perfect smile. He walked from behind his large purple wooden desk to greet me. I felt his strong arms encircle me briefly.

“Please sit.” He said before returning to his seat.

“Marcus Anthony.” I said with a little smile.

“It’s always been my name actually.” He said by way of explanation. “But I’m sure we have more pressing matters to discuss.”

On his desk I saw a picture of the little girl and one of him and a woman holding a younger Clara. He followed my eyes and smiled.

“You have already met my little princess and that is my wife Kathleen.”

“You have a family.” I said locking eyes with him.

“Yes Nicholas, and we are all in the family business.”

I understood which business he meant.

“Shall we speak frankly?”

“Certainly. But let me assure you that you need not worry anymore about your mortal lady friend.”

“Thank you.” I replied, strangely reassured by his promise. “But I am equally concerned about the plans that you and La Safer have for me.”

“Perhaps it would be best to clear up a misconception of yours.”

“Please.” I said with an arched eyebrow.

“La Safer is not exactly who you might think he is, although initially I too thought he must be Lucifer.”

“And you know that he isn’t?”

“Yes. In fact he is no different from you or I. He is, quite literally, an ambitious, fallen angel and we understand how great this new rule of our kind will be.” He said, with an engaging smile.

Looking into the eyes of this bloodthirsty fanatic I understood just how difficult this new challenge would be. But I took heart in the new knowledge that my maker was less than I thought he was…

Blood Ties

Meeting Marcus was unsettling. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him during that first encounter but I would know him when next we met. I only had a glimpse into La Safer’s mind, but I felt certain that those he chose to make by his own blood were of particular significance.

While I have always been conflicted, I could sense in Marcus’ voice a strength and serenity that was alien to me. He was at peace with his dark gift and this clarity made him a more willing alley of La Safer. The friend of my enemy…

It was strange to be thinking in these terms. La Safer had given me a great power, but I had not served his purpose and he was constantly looking for opportunities to remind me of just where my blood ties now lay. He had always been my enemy.

I had no problem standing in defense of those I cared for, the ones I truly considered my blood but I had to acknowledge that the collateral damage in this fight had been extended far beyond my intimate circle. Left unchecked, unchallenged, this beautiful island and every other place of promise would be tainted.

At night I watched over Ngozi without further incident. But on many of those nights she would sob for hours before slipping mercifully into sleep. I could no longer pretend that all was well in my small corner of the world. I had to embrace what I was and make peace with an unavoidable task. Marcus was the key...

Marcus Rises

With my attention turned to Ngozi’s safety and mentoring Richard a new challenge was taking root in my adopted homeland. His name was Marcus and in him La Safer had found a more willing participant to do his bidding. It was Marcus who sent his bloodthirsty soucouyants for Ngozi. A test of soughts. He had quietly built up his forces, and while I struggled with my abilities he gained confidence and comfort in his own.

I promised Richard I would look after his mother and would have done so even if he had not asked. I now spent my nights in the open field to the back of Ngozi’s house, hidden in the canopy of a large, old avocado tree. This would be the stage of our first encounter.

It was a few hours past dusk. A light rain had provoked the scent of lemon grass that now competed with the smell of evening stews carried on the cool breeze. I sensed a presence, his presence, before but never this close. There was no scent that I could discern from him, but the smell of clean fabric and the lack of wind to my back was enough warning.

“I see you are ready to show yourself.” I said with my back to him. I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked down at the color which was that of the natives.

“It is time we were introduced brother.” He said in a deep commanding voice.

“Brother?”

“Yes.” He said removing his hand. “Even though you may hate my actions, we are the same you and I. Born of the same father.”

“Of course.” I whispered. “La Safer.”

“Ironically though I find the words of another most appropriate at this time. Anyone who claims to be in the light but hates his brother is still in the darkness.” He was quoting scripture to me. John 2:9 irony indeed, brotherhood and light. I offered the next verse as my response.

“Whoever loves his brother lives in the light, and there is nothing to make him stumble.”

“Indeed brother. I do love you and I look forward to our next encounter.”

I turned to look at him, but he was gone and with him all illusions of a peaceful existence…