Today is hot. It is one hundred and ten degrees fahrenheit. I am in Hell. Never before now have I been in such heat. I miss my cold castle. Even today I would deal with rats and damp stone walls rather than feeling I am being strapped to a stake and burned to a a pile of ashes with only my blue eyes looking out of my blackened skull in search of my charred heart.
It is still hot.
Tonight my friend Randolpho and I went in search for warm blood and cool dark rooms.
In the middle of the city we walked the streets and went into bars with mists of water spraying down upon pretty young women who sat outside in short skirts as they drank cold drinks and talked among each other.
Inside these places it was cold and filled with loud music. People sat and talked. Nobody was dancing. It was too hot.
As Randolpho and I walked among the mortals I could see their eyes upon us. I could hear the women whisper to each other as I walked by he is so cute, he is gorgeous, I would take him home.
I would glance their way and smile. Maybe I would fulfill their desires and go home with them. I could taste their blood in my mouth already. I could feel their warm skin on my cool Vampire body. I started to turn their way.
Then Randolpho grabbem my arm and said, “Come this way.”
Down a hot ugly alley between old brick building we walked, then down narrow stairs into a dark doorway.
I could hear men shouting and cheering. Then I saw there was a fight.
Two men kicked and punched each other in a chain link cage. A final kick brought one down in a bloody heap upon the floor. I could smell his blood. My mouth watered.
Then all eyes turned upon Randolpho and I.
“You got a pretty face. It would be too bad to ruin it,” yelled one of the men in my direction. I looked him in the eyes and his face contorted in pain at my will.
Several other men shouted at us using crass childish profanities.
We do not belong here I thought, but it might be fun. Randolpho was thinking the same thing.
Many of these men were large. They were well over six feet tall with shoulders the size of oxen, and muscles like those of Hercules. We are not built like oxen but more like one would imagine Apollo or Hermes, or more even like those men on the covers of book that women call Bodice Rippers. Yes, Randolpho and I are Bodice Rippers.
I am not considered large these days. At one time I was taller than most men but now I am not always so tall. I stand at five feet and ten inches. Randolpho is not tiny but he is also not huge at five feet and six inches. People have become larger. I do not understand this trend. By the end of this century I will be the size of an eight year old child. None the less I knew Randolpho and I could take on these petty men who puff out their chests and call us cats.
“Why do they call us cats? Cats know how to fight.” I asked that of Randolpho.
“Vlad, they called us pussies,” said Randolpho.
“That is what I said,” I told Randolpho. I do not understand why I have to repeat myself so much with him.
Randolpho and I faced a dozen men. Not a problem. We are Vampires and I am cute. I find that when one if cute one can do anything. Take for example cats and babies. Cats and babies are cute. They get everything they desire. I looked over at Randolpho. If I were a girl I might consider him cute as well. Maybe. Maybe not.
The men shouted FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT.
I thought that as long as they did not cut of my head or rip out my heart I would be fine. It would be like taking candy from a baby, only I do not know why anyone would do that. None of these men were cute like babies or puppies or me. Yet, I would take from them whatever I could.
Randolpho tipped the ridiculous top hat he always wears, even in the 21st Century, and smiled.
“Gentlemen,” said Randolpho. “We will take up your challenge and top it. Two of us will take on all of you who wish to go home lesser men.”
Randolpho set his hat aside and went into the cage. I followed.
Ten minutes later a dozen large men sat crying like babies. These were not cute babies. They are large, bad smelling, hairy babies with mothers who would be ashamed of them. We received a prize of a great deal of money, then we left before the remaining men tried to kill us. HA! They could have tried but never would they have success. They are but spineless worms. They are lesser men.
There was not a scratch between Randolpho and me. Not one scratch. I brushed my golden hair back with my hand. I am not cat. I am a Vampire.
The sound of sirens of Police cars came close as we walked away. Nobody in the basement where the fight took place would remember the faces of the two young men who beat them senseless. They would only remember that we were cold to the touch and exceptionally good looking. I laughed at the idea of us being young. I am 675 years old and Randolpho is a scant year older than I.
I do not know how to make one of those little yellow faces with a smile. There is a number code. Little face with smile. There. I put it in italics so it is so. The Vampire King has spoken.
The women we had passed earlier did remember us. They got their wish. We got our blood. It was, what is the expression, a Win-Win situation.
When one is imprisoned in a cold dark crypt for three hundred years one has time to think. Then one stops thinking. Then one wakes and starts to plan as if the night will come when the crypt will break open and you will escape.
Then one day you find yourself awakened with a shake of a shoulder and look into the face of friends. The world has changed into a place that even Jonathan Swift or Jules Verne, or Nostradamus (the hack) would never have imagined. It is a world world, I Vlad, the Vampire King, could never have imagined.
Yet things do not change. Men still fight. Women still turn their heads and smile when I walk by. Randolpho still wears his ridiculous hats.
Ice. Whenever I want it. I love this century.
My Vampire love Gillian lay with me on my bed. We had turned on the thing called air conditioning that makes the summer air turn to winter inside of my home. It is like magic.
I kissed Gillian’s hand, then her shoulder, then her cheek, then her beautiful lips.
“Do you think I am more of a Greek God or a Bodice Ripper?” I asked her.
She gave me an odd look. “Vlad, I’m not even going to answer that.”
“But I am serious,” I said.
“So am I,” she said.
Gillian took her hand and pushed me down on the pillow and straddled me. I did not stop her.
“You’re a magnificent pagan beast,” she said.
“A pagan beast?” I asked, but even I had to laugh.
“Maybe not, but what you are is cute. You’re so cute,” then she pulled her shirt over her head, and kissed me, and I will say no more.
~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman