Last night I attended a party which was given by Vampire friends, a former Count of some now nonexistent country, and his wife who is from another now nonexistent country.
Her name, or what she now calls herself is Angelica. She explained to me that she is repelled by the feel of the body of a warm living human next to her, and no longer seduces her prey in the warmer months. What is it that the teenagers who live in my neighborhood call it? TMI. Too. Much. Information. I was tempted to suggest she bring a thing called baby wipes with her so she can wipe down hot sweaty necks before she eats. I knew she would not understand, or even see the humor in my comment.
I next heard that Angelica was going to bring in live food for us. That would be live people whom some of the younger Vampires call Vamp Tramps. They are those people who let Vampires feed on their blood willingly. Some like the excitement. Some hope to one day become Vampires themselves. I find them distasteful. They are like beggars asking for something they can never have, or whores who never get paid for their services.
I left the party with lie about having a headache. One does not earn the title of King of the Vampires by spending time with crass bores. I like my meals to be quiet, private affairs.
It reminded me of a time, centuries ago, when a wealthy and powerful man brought his daughter to my castle.
“Oh Vlad, King of Vampires, I bring you my daughter in exchange for immortality as a Vampire.”
A frightened girl of fifteen years stood before me. I told her to sit by the hearth and make herself warm.
I faced the father. “What should I do with the girl?”
“Drink her blood. Take her as a mistress until she can no longer take a breath on her own. I have too many daughters, but she is the boldest and strongest. She is a pain in my ass. Take her as my gift. Enjoy her.”
I looked over at my friend Randolpho who was also in the room with me. “Randolpho, please take this good man out to meet some of the other Vampires. I wish to speak to the girl alone.”
When they had left the girl cowered in the chair in which she sat.
“Do not be afraid. I am not going to drink your blood or kill you. I will not keep you as my mistress.” There was still fear in her eyes. I then told her that I would send her to friends in Italy where should could live with artists and eat oranges and live without fear. She could be happy and choose the man she wished to be with.
Then we heard screams. “Your father will never bother you again. His blood will be gone and we shall boil his bones and feed him to the hounds. That is what we do to men who try to barter their children for their own gain.”
She smiled then took my hands. I remember the warmth of her fingers around mine, and how she smelled like lilacs when I gave her an embrace.
“Thank you. You are so cold,” she said.
“Of course, but I will make sure you are never cold.” And she never was cold or unhappy for the rest of her seventy eight years, which was a long life in the 1500’s. We should all be so lucky.
Fifteen years later I spent the winter in Italy at the villa she now owned. We became lovers for several months. She then told me that it would never last because she could never fall in love with a man who was far more beautiful than she was, and for the fact that she was in love with another. They married the following year, and lived a long happy life together.
I heard rumors that her father’s skull was used in the first production of Hamlet but do not quote me on that fact.
Tonight I went to the local pub, owned by a woman named Cassie. We have become friends over the past year, Cassie and I have. I stayed late talking with her at the bar.
“Where is Brody tonight?” I asked about her large black dog who is usually behind the bar with her.
“He ripped a claw out. Poor baby is home wearing the cone of shame,” she said.
“But surely it was an accident,” I said. “One should never shame a good dog.”
“It is a just a joke Vlad. The veterinarian, the animal doctor, puts a plastic cone shaped collar on dogs to prevent them from chewing on themselves.”
There is so much to learn about the complexities of the modern world after being locked in a crypt for three hundred years.
We had a few drinks together and talked about our pets. Since Brody was not in service tonight I offered to walk Cassie the three blocks to her home. She accepted my offer.
She invited me inside. I looked at her and locked my eyes on hers.
“You’re so beautiful,” she said and pulled her shirt over her head, then proceeded to pull my shirt over my head. How I love the modern cotton knit fabric.
“You’re so cold,” she said as she put her arms around my waist and pulled me close.
“You are so warm,” I said, kissing her on her forehead, then her cheeks, then her eyes, and by then she was smiling in a lovely trance as I moved on to her neck. She was a perfect A+ blood type. Even in her trance she let out a slight feminine sigh, and barely whispered my name.
That is one of the wonderful things about being a Vampire in this day and age – we know blood types. We have names for them. What do the young people say? Cool. That is it. It is very cool. The blood is hot, but the expression “cool” means it is something wonderful.
I left Cassie and Brady asleep with sound dreams of all things good.
It is now considered summer as the month of June passes by. When I was young we did not wonder why the weather changed. It just did. There were seasons. Some said it was the Gods, but we did not believe in the Gods of those who came to judge us. They told us we would be damned so we drained them of blood. If you can’t beat them eat them. I know the new expression is “join them” but why? They had too many Gods, like what they call Super Heros now. Nobody has time for men in tights (see I make a joke.)
So now the sun comes up and I will sleep. Yesterday I had a dream of a warm body next to my cold side. I woke to find the two cats curled up by my side.
I thought about many years, in fact centuries ago when I was awakened one morning from great commotion at the doors of my castle. I pulled on a robe and went to see who was there. A group of men, twenty of them, stood with swords drawn and grim expressions on their faces. They wore white robes with red crosses stitched on the front.
“Who are you and what do you want?” I heard my friend Randolpho ask them with his fangs out.
One man took a step forward. “We are the Knights Templar.”
I came out from behind my Vampire guards and could hear the Knights Templars gasp in unison.
“Please,” I said. “Put down your swords. We have no need for that here. I am Vlad. How may I help you?”
Then they all went down on one knee and bowed. To make a long story short they were under the false assumption that I, Vlad King of the Vampires, was an angel. It might have been my long blonde hair around my shoulders, or maybe my beautiful face, or just what do they call it, my magnetic charm. I do not know why, yet I was quite amused.
Then my sister came running out and a few of them almost fell over. I later learned those men, for whatever foolish reasons had taken vows of celibacy but upon seeing my sister they all became overcome with a sort of brain fever of wonton love for her.
I invited the men into my realm. The leader, a man called John, asked if they could keep some of their items in my castle.
“I would be honored and your treasure would be safe,” I told him.
Then from his coat John pulled an old goblet and handed it to me. “This is the cup from the last supper.”
“I see. I will have dinner prepared for you and your men tonight. You may all have new cups tonight.”
John then looked upon me with compassion and passion in his face. “Vlad, this is the cup which held the blood of our Lord.”
I could feel the cup getting hot in my hands, enough to burn an ordinary man. I smelled it. Yes, it had contained wine at one time, but no real blood. I later learned the blood was symbolic.
“The cup is the most holy of relics,” said John. “Would you keep it safe.”
“I will,” I told him.
He also asked me to keep a chest with something which I now believe to be an old radio receiver. I hope if he ever comes back that he will be able to find tubes. I will send him to eBay.
The Templars stayed for four days then left. I locked their treasure in a room underneath my castle. They never came back for it. It was not like now where I could text them or sell the items on Craigslist.
Now I still have those items in my basement at my home in America. I doubt if the Templars will try to look me up. They are long gone. With no women in their lives they had no children to come get their things. Maybe I will get out the cup and polish it up. I could always restore the radio or whatever that thing is. I will look into it. Maybe there might be a YouTube video explaining it. One never knows.