Omens

I enjoy my role as protector but I can’t shake my growing concern. If I was still capable of sweating I would. Eli comes to me more often now and he seems to be preparing me, coaching me for what lies ahead. I try to get from him what I can do to protect these mortals, to prevent more tragedy. He simply says, “I’m sorry Nicholas. I fear there are some things that cannot be undone. Those who wish you harm are aware of what you care for most. Then there is all that you have done, there is a consequence for every act.” Long after he has left, after he has said that I need to do what I can and continue to fight for what I care about his words linger. They resonate with me even as I sense that Eli was also saying goodbye to me, a farewell that feels more substantial than I like.

Malcolm senses my concern. He is protective of our friendship and of me. I am touched by the irony of this dynamic, but I cannot burden him anymore than I already have. Instead I continue to teach him what I know, how to recognize us, how to avoid our kind and if the worst came, how he to defend himself and protect his family. This last bit I feel is key, but I know he is at a significant disadvantage against even the less motivated of my kind. I take heart from his natural abilities. Malcolm is a middle aged man in excellent physical condition. He has a particular talent for handling knives, but I am most impressed by his ability to read people and situations, an ability that I feel also extends beyond the mortal realm. I encourage him to trust his instincts and it doesn’t take him long to realize that he is not just being prepared for a possibility.

The children are left in the dark about most matters and although I disagree with this approach I cannot argue with the desire to protect them from what they may not understand. In any event, the respect I have for Malcolm and his wife means that I keep these concerns to myself. But with each passing moment I feel inexplicably closer to an unknown danger. I am consumed by thoughts of time and place, of who’s and whys and now I’m preoccupied by thoughts about the most vulnerable among us. I can’t watch them every moment of the day and I know that even if I can find Louis and Elizabeth I would still need to convince them that these particular mortals are now as important to me as they are…that they should put themselves in harm’s way to protect these lives.

Another concern is the stories that are being carried from household to household, not all of which are the creations of resourceful parents intent on keeping their children away from nocturnal activities. One particular story has always fascinated me. It is of children, babies really, who having died before being baptized now lure the unsuspecting into the afterlife with them. They are supposed to be adorned with wide brimmed hats that obscure their faces and feet that face backwards, supposedly because every step they take is away from this life. I have mentioned these duennes before, but I know they exist. I have told Malcolm that countries like this are attractive to all soughts eager to stake a claim and begin a new life…now I feel like we are all competing for a place on this island.

Still, weeks slip by and despite my concerns nothing happens but I remain guarded. It’s Friday and Beatrice is cleaning my house while Malcolm leaves to get the girls from school. When he returns they come in for a while and hug everyone before racing each other outside to play in what is left of the daylight. Their mood is infectious and as we smile and talk inside, I hear their raised voices and laughter in the distance like music. Moments later I hear another sound, and before long it’s the only sound I hear. I raise my hand and Malcolm and Beatrice fall silent.

“Do you hear that?” I say.

“Yes.” Beatrice says, smiling sweetly. “Sounds like a baby, crying.”

“But I don’t hear the girls.” Malcolm says, as his heart pounds. I don’t respond because in a blinding blur I am outside and a sickening feeling settles with me…the girls are nowhere in sight.

Family

I had never shared myself, my story, with anyone before. Even Antonio was given an abridged version. Still, as I listened to Malcolm’s heartbeat slow I realized that I trusted this man and his family. He seemed to genuinely care for me. So I talked, for a long time, in great detail about my life as a mortal and of my new life. He listened intently and his fleeting looks of horror were always underscored by a more lasting look of sadness and concern. When I was finished we sat in silence for a few moments, both unsure of what came after such a revelation. Finally Malcolm broke his silence.

“I know it’s true. I know it’s true.” He repeated as though still trying to convince himself. “But some of what you say…is difficult to believe.” He looks at me and his eyes are brimming, shiny with tears and I feel the kind of shame I have no memory of feeling before.

“I will not harm you or your family.” I say it, because I want to reassure him and I can’t think of anything else and I regret the words almost instantly as he smiles to reassure me.

“I know.” He says simply. “I don’t know how I know, but I know.” We both laugh. A nervous tension breaker, but nonetheless genuine. It’s late and none of his questions or my concerns would be put to rest tonight. I am overwhelmed by the feelings that accompany the sharing of my dark secret. I’m surprised that I could feel anything at all. Before long I feel the tears rolling down my cheek, dripping from my face, and I make no attempt to wipe them away. Malcolm is crying as well and I feel deeply grateful for this human expression.

“Your family will be concerned.” I say shakily. “I will get you home safely.” I add rising slowly. He rises as well. As he turns and walks towards the door I feel compelled to say more. “Thank you.” I say, and he doesn’t just seem to understand he does. He nods and we leave and that’s when I decide. I will share my knowledge and experience with this kind man and his family. Their color puts them at a disadvantage, even here in what has been reclaimed as their own country and I want to help level the playing field. It will never be payment enough for helping me rediscover and value my humanity.

Although I live in a different world, I also share theirs and in the days and weeks that follow I allow myself to participate in mortal endeavors. More than that, I enjoy the pretense, maybe because with them it feels less like an act…more like a second act. Having seen as much as I have and experienced even more I feel that very little can surprise me.

Still, I am truly surprised twice in the weeks following my confession. Malcolm is a good husband and I can tell that the burden of my secret is now his. He is reluctant to betray my trust, but he shares all things with his wife. The contradiction divides him and when he comes to me to talk I already know what troubles him. He assures me that she will understand, that she already considers me family. The children think I am a long lost uncle. Before he finishes his argument I concede, of course I say, we’ll tell her and deal with the consequences. She does understand, moreover she is relived that there’s a good explanation for everything albeit an extraordinary one. Then I set foot in a church and despite my legitimate concerns and the legends about how my kind can be killed or slowed I do not burst into flames and I am not struck by lightning.

I discover more about acceptable alternatives to human blood and learn more about myself than I have in decades. Then in the midst of the calm I am overwhelmed by a strong sense of foreboding, but with me and perhaps my kind this is always an indicator of something more tangible. I start seeing Eli again, but he doesn’t speak he just appears looking remorseful. I think about Louis and Elizabeth and the others. Then I think of my new family and their fragile existence. I decide I am their protector. Whatever is coming will have me to reckon with.

The Browns

Malcolm Brown was an interesting soul. He was almost instantly the most unpretentious, honorable mortal I had met in all my travels. Everything he did was purposeful and done with quiet dignity. His father had been a slave who had acquired a modest property for his family. Malcolm built on this legacy and worked hard to ensure that his children were exposed to a better life as second-generation free men in the third world. He understood his station in life and sacrificed so that those he loved would be less burdened. He was a deeply spiritual man who believed in reaping the fruits of your labor. It was not a judgmental stance, he simply believed in karma and while I had first hand knowledge that things were not quite so clear-cut I accepted that in essence this was an undeniable truth.

He had two precocious daughters, ten and eight years old, and his wife was striking woman of African, Carib and Caucasian lineage. She was a slender woman who worked fourteen-hour days in a neighboring canfield to help her husband maintain their home and provide for their children. Not before long, over the course of long conversations working in the fields converting our crop from cocoa to rice and cane I promoted Malcolm to head custodian of the Condé Estate. With this responsibility came a generous raise in his remuneration which allowed him to give his wife the gift of an early retirement. Of course this only made her feel indebted to me and she insisted on coming in three times a week to do general cleaning and cooking for me. Soon my house was filled with conversation, laughter and something that had not touched me in an untainted form for quite some time, love.

I was guilty. Guilty of deceiving these people and guilty of giving these young girls a monster for a surrogate uncle. But try as I might I was incapable of turning them away, of not enjoying how they made me feel, of not caring about them. I even attempted to go without what sustains me. Sadly, my nature is far stronger than what they were nurturing within me. Instead, as some small measure of reason, I studied people more intently and choose those who I judged to be dangerous and sinister as my victims. I do understand that I may be the least appropriate person to judge anyone, but I consoled myself with the thought that the world was a bit better without these unfortunate souls. The irony is inescapable.

Something else was unavoidable. This perceptive man and his family were captivated by my presence and were beginning to grow concerned about my isolated existence. They credited me with bringing a certain degree of stability into their lives which, they insisted, extended far beyond just the financial. It was unbearable to hear Mrs. Brown remark that I was a God sent and her husband add that not all Europeans are pre-occupied with the pursuit of ill gotten gains.

It took longer than I expected but just past a year into our arrangement on a quite Friday evening, Malcolm Brown broached the subject that I had been dreading. He stood at the door to my study, as I updated the bookkeeping. He wore a damp brown cotton shirt and khaki slacks, and removed his wide brimmed hat so he could wipe sweat from his brow with a muscular forearm. He waited for me to notice him.

“Come in Malcolm.” I said without raising my head.

“Thank you.” He said walking quietly to one of the vacant chairs that faced my desk.

“Please sit my friend.” I said raising my head and smiling at him warmly. “And I have something for you.” I said handing him a sealed envelope that rested on my desk.

“Again, I thank you Nicholas.” Him calling me Nicholas had taken nearly a year. He smiled weakly.

“Is there something else?” I asked turning to him squarely now, looking into his bright eyes that were set deep into his sun darkened lined face. I could hear his heart beat quicken.

“Yes.” He paused.

“Is it your wife, the girls?” My concern growing.

“No, no, no. They are well. But Beatrice and I have been talking and we are both worried.”

“About?”

“About you Nicholas. Forgive me, but you are a good man who should not be alone. We feel like you are punishing yourself for something. Maybe in your past?”

I took a deep breath and fixed my gaze and looked away as I heard his heartbeat slow.

“Not in my past. Something in my present.”

He swallowed, slowly, deliberately before continuing.

“I feel that there is a chance for redemption as long as there is life.” He said bravely.

“I want to believe that.” I said solemnly. “So I will attempt to tell you my truth.”

Resolve

The dawn following La Safer’s death was unlike any that I had experienced before. The previous twelve hours were a blur. I remember hearing the hushed tones, reverent almost, as they studied the lifeless, shrunken form that had embodied so much fear and loathing. I burnt the head and body on a pyre and watched the body disappear into thick clouds of black smoke.

They had all asked if they could stay, but now more than ever I was filled with the desire to be away from my kind…and others like us. I wanted to be part of something more meaningful. I felt an even deeper kinship with the people of the island this time around. We were both going through our own emancipations, not quite sure what the future held but highly optimistic that what was before us would be better than our past. I encouraged Louis and Elizabeth to find a life that they were comfortable with and in time I would seek them out. For now I could only deal with one vampire.

So I set about losing myself in the work of renovating and landscaping my property. I needed a routine that would work this supernatural body towards building and re-building something instead of tearing it apart. Then, one evening, a man knocked on my door seeking honest employment to help provide for his family and I was moved by his honesty. I looked into his eyes, and he into mine, and I could tell that he understood that I too needed help. It would be the beginning of a most interesting time in my existence and the discovery of new love. Meeting the Brown family would tie me to them forever and in many ways it is where my story truly begins…

A New Dawn

It happened quickly. I could hardly get a read on him before I felt his breath at my back. We were all separated by Christmas revelers as we stepped off the ship. New Independence was good to the island and alcohol and high spirits enhanced the mood of most. Then there was the irony of our arrival.

“You wear your emotions like new clothes my son. Far too easy for one like me to read.” At the sound of his voice time seemed to slow. I turned to face him. He wore a dark suit with a crisp white shirt and red tie.

“These are their colors.” He said, standing back for effect. “The colors of their flag.”

“Patriotic.” I said flatly, trying to avoid his hypnotic beauty.

“We should talk.” He said, pointing the way out of the harbor. I could see that the others were already ahead of us, guided by those of La Safer’s making.

As always La Safer was prepared. Transportation was on hand to take us to our destination which, as we neared, turned out to be my own plantation. His arrogance angered me most and I did my best to control this emotion. I could usually feel the mood of those close to me, those I now hold dear. But here, in my own house, close to them I felt nothing.

We sat on my veranda looking out at the cocoa being served hot tea by a strange man servant and it was I who felt like a guest visiting a disappointed parent. On the floor between us was a menacing question mark, in the form of a large scythe.

“I don’t think I can give you what you expect.” I said as the servant left us in the fading pre twilight warmth.

“Are you certain you know what that is?” He asked, making no effort to look at me.

“I think I am.” I said settling into an uncomfortable silence.

“Nicholas. I had such great plans for you, for us really. But you do know that if this was about killing you that it would have happened some time before now.” He said after a few moments of silence.

“So?”

“So now,” he said turning to face me. “I will leave you to your life here. But it will be far different than the life you should have had. In the beginning the desire to create a superior being was what fueled me. A more worthy being to rule, devoid of mortal weakness. You were to be my general, but while you were rediscovering your humanity I figured it would be so much more interesting if irrational fears were given reason. I know you think me a monster, but there are worst things to fear than me.”

“But why the deception, why use Antonio and try to manipulate me through my memories?”

“Because I can Nicholas. Because whether you like it or not the consequences for your actions are not of your choosing. Because ending your existence would be too easy and I require more from you.”

Looking into his eyes I could see the depth of his disappointment and the great abyss of his own hate…for everything. His breath was controlled and even and his body from all I can tell as I studied him was mortal. Strong, extraordinary, but living in much the same abnormal way that I now was and I was struck by the epiphany of the moment and the sudden fragility of this dark angel.

I emptied my mind and thought became immediate action. I recognized a fleeting look of pity as I seized the scythe before beheading him. Strangely, there was no feeling of relief, no release. It was as if nothing had changed…but of course, everything had.