Monsters In Love

Love posts for Valentine’s Day

Vampire Maman

Halloween Love Letters

While taking clothes out of the dryer I found a crisp folded piece of notepaper with a note, written with a red Sharpie.

Dear Garrett,
I don’t think you understand how you tear my heart apart. You don’t do anything. You just are. You drive me crazy. You act so cool and I know how you put on a mask. Everyday is Halloween for you.  Stop being so afraid of being yourself. I love you – you idiot.
Ione

Sigh. Seventeen year old Garrett has been writing love letters to girls since he was six years old.  Now girls are writing them to him too. He has known Ione almost his entire life but they just started dating last Spring. If they make it as a couple or not, I’m sure they’ll always be friends – I have a feeling they will (they’re both Vampires.)  So I…

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Short Story Sunday: I’ll Take Care of You

The headache was real. He opened his eyes and squinted at the sun coming through the window and tried to remember what had happened the night before.

“Oh you’re up. Look at the sunlight. Tell me how you feel.”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“Do you feel alive?”

He looked at her sitting in a navy blue wingback chair wearing nothing but a smile and black silk stockings held up by red garters. He thought of her as a girl, not from her age but by the way she acted. She had been cute for a while but the cuteness became annoying and practiced.

He got out of bed and looked for his robe. She watched him with a smile on her face that was part wonder and part greed. Memories started to come back. Against his better judgement he’d taken her home and to his bed. Then she’d poured something she said was wine, but it obviously wasn’t.

“What did we drink last night?”

“What did you drink Andrew darling. I gave you an elixir to life. I gave you a tonic of love. I gave you light and love?”

He didn’t even respond. The sooner he got her out of his house and made coffee the better. Finding his robe he headed to the kitchen.

“Do you feel different?” She got up and followed him down the stairs.

“Other than feeling like shit?”

“Today is your new birthday. You’re mortal again.”

It suddenly occurred that she’d given him some sort of potion. “Jen, I can’t be cured. There was nothing wrong with me.”

“You were a Vampire.”

“I’m still a Vampire.”

“You’re walking in the sunlight. See it comes through the windows and you aren’t burning.”

“I’ve always been able to walk in the sunlight. Whatever you gave me didn’t work. It never works anymore than me giving you something that would turn you into a dog.”

“Give me a chance and I’ll take care of you Andrew,” she said clutching at his arms.

He pried off her hands and whispered under his breath, “Yes, and I’ll make sure to take care of you.”

Escorting her to the door, the Vampire told her to not come back – but he knew she’d try. Jen never took no for an answer. He compared her to a bad rash, that is if he’d ever had a bad rash.

Nobody would believe her tall tales of dating a Vampire. She was a groupie, a fan, a follower who didn’t know how to be an adult or find real love. It wasn’t like he always knew how to find real love, but at least he wasn’t going to let anyone change him for it.

Picking up the phone he made a call. “You know, I really don’t have the stomach for killing her right now. Any suggestions?”

His friend paused on the other end of the line then said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of her.”

After getting off the phone Andrew made a blood and strawberry smoothie hoping it would clear out some of the toxic effects of whatever the Hell Jen had given him.

Jen told everyone her family had always been around Vampires, kind of sort of, but she’d just discovered her ability to pick them out about 10 years ago. She’d clamped onto Andrew about a year back after seeing him sing with one of her favorite bands at a local club. She’d spotted him and found out all of the details about his life through mutual friends. Her immaturity was charming at first and kind of cute but now it just grated on Andrew. He ran his hands through his hair and wondered why he’d brought her home last night. Oh right, blood and sex. That always does it.

Then again, Jen thought life should be a cross between a Doris Day/Rock Hudson movie and Twilight. Holy crap. The woman was delusional.

Jen sat alone in her San Francisco apartment and thought about her beautiful Vampire lover. Giggling at the thought of his cool skin and hot kisses and wonderful techniques as a lover. He knew all the tricks. She imagined living with him in his beautiful St. Francis Woods home.

Last night she’d offered him not just her body but her blood as well. Last of all she offered her heart. As far as she was concerned that was a sealed deal. She was part of him now. He’d never get rid of her.

A year passed and Andrew had all but forgotten about that night with Jen. Occasionally one of his friends would bring up the story of the toxic brew and laugh about it.

“Don’t laugh, it could have ruined my voice,” Andrew would tell them half serious and half joking.

“What ever happened to her?” They would always ask. Andrew would just shrug.

A hundred miles away, locked in a room with no sharp objects Jen sat rocking on the bed speaking of her Vampire lover and how he’d return for her. Andrew said something under his breath about taking care of her. So she waited not knowing that he already taken care of her, quite nicely.

 

~ End

 

Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Vampire Diary: Dye Vampire Dye

Dear Diary,

I heard a knock upon my door. I was not expecting a visitor.

Upon my threshold stood my neighbor, the teenager Kylee. In her hand was a large padded envelope. She smiled.

Then she spoke in her odd way, as if all statements are questions. “This was in our mailbox. Vampire King? You’re too cute to be a vampire.” She smiled and raised an eyebrow.

On the envelope was written, Vlad, Vampire King. Then the address of my home. The sender had the sanity not to write Vlad’s Castle or other such outdated nonsense.

“It is an endearment,” I said as I took the envelope.

“I was thinking more of maybe a Cosplay thing.”

I just smiled slightly to be polite and not seem ignorant. I do not know what this Cosplay thing is.

How can one be too cute to be Vampire King? I still do not understand this cute. Cute can mean power because all living humans are drawn to cute. Living humans are drawn to me as well through my seductive powers as a vampire but I do not understand why being such as a baby or kitten would make women think of me.

“Too cute?” I asked the girl. “How is one too cute?”

She laughed in that unapologetic way teenage girls of this century laugh. “You’re all honey blonde, and that dimple is adorable.”

Adorable. Now the Vampire King is adorable. I am constantly confused by these people.

The girl Kylee laughed out loud again and left to her own home.

I need blood. And aspirin.

~ Vlad

 

———————-

 

Dear Diary,

I will not dye my hair black to become a serious vampire. The thought crossed my mind for a brief second. Maybe an hour or two. What is wrong with me? I used to rule an empire and now my biggest concern is Clairol or L’Oreal.  I will remain cute, along with my cats.

~ Vlad

 

——————————

 

Dear Diary,

I looked up the definition of adorable.

a·dor·a·ble
əˈdôrəb(ə)l/
adjective
inspiring great affection; delightful; charming.
“she looked just adorable”
synonyms: cute, lovable, appealing, charming, cuddly, sweet, enchanting, bewitching, captivating, engaging, endearing, dear, darling, delightful, lovely, beautiful, attractive, gorgeous, winsome, winning, fetching.

I can accept captivating, attractive, gorgeous, and enchanting. Those descriptions are true of me. I can accept beautiful. I may even be fetching, though I do not know if fetching can apply to one who is male. I am not winsome or cuddly. I am sexually appealing. No woman, or man if I wish, could resist my seduction, but I am not cuddly. Cuddly. No. This English language and these people make my head spin. If I had more blood in my body I would be on the floor with the brain whirling sickness.

I opened the envelope marked Vampire King and reviewed the contents once again. I have reviewed these contents many times over the past two days. I think of what Kylee said to me.

Cosplay. First I thought it was a band of musicians but that would be Coldplay. I do not know what that means, but it is not the same thing as Cosplay. I heard them sing their songs when I turned on the radio in my car. It was not to, how do they say, to my taste.

Then I thought of Cosplay. I asked my lover Gillian who is as old as I am but has lived longer in this modern world in which I have found myself. It is when grown people dress up like imaginary people, but it is not a masquerade or the holiday they call Halloween. I do not understand why they do this. Why would a person dress as something they are not?

Then I looked at the contents of the envelope again.

Inside was a note, along with a handkerchief of old silk which was falling apart to the touch. The lace edges were as delicate as morning spider webs, or the hair of an infant. A once red stain turned brown was on the corner. The letter V was embroidered on the corner.  That was once mine, a little over three hundred years ago. It was taken from me in the year 1715.

In the envelope was also a lock of hair, honey gold, tied with a black silk ribbon. It was mine, taken from my head. Unlike men of warm blood, most Vampires refused to wear wigs. I only wore my own hair, long and curled around my shoulders and down my back. I had the blood of others but I would not have their hair. Maybe one might call that cute, but I do not think so.

The note was rude and unclear.

 

Vlad, Vampire King,
We know where you are. Beware. You shall not rule again.
from, The Unknown Forces

 

This letter is what the teenage girl Kylee and her teenage friends would call bull-crap. Kylee would have said, “what a douche.”

The Unknown Forces. Who are these bull-crap douches? How dare they take my dirty laundry and hair and send it to me in an envelope. How dare they send veiled threats to me.

I no longer have my castle or army, but I have cats, and I have access to the power of teenagers, and I am cute.

~ Vlad

 


 

Dear Diary,

Those who send the envelope will be found. Those who sent the envelope will be taken care of. Or perhaps I will make them wait. I will not react. I will not do what they expect. I will not be a prisoner of their veiled threats.

With the moonlight through the window Gillian runs her hand through my golden hair. I gently push her onto the pillows and kiss her lips, flushed red with fresh blood in her veins and my attentions.

I have no worries this night. Tonight I do not miss being Vampire King, for I am glad to have Gillian capture my heart and keep me prisoner of her love.

~ Vlad

 

Kissed by a Vampire

Click here for all of Vlad’s Vampire Diary entries.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Short Story Sunday: Another Nasty Little Sick and Twisted Vampire Romance

Some of you have seen this before but it is already over 100 degrees F (f_ing hot) outside and my brain is fried, so enjoy. First published her in 2013. ~ Juliette

 

A Man Should Have What He Wants

A house full of books and the ghosts of what could have been.

What can be. Oliver Thomas thought as he sat on the edge of the bed.

He never let himself get close to those he visited over the years. It was easy to become detached just as one could be detached to an apple or a head of lettuce.

She slept quietly. On the nightstand were books, earrings, a clock set for 5:00 a.m., and her glasses. Her husband was snoring and slept in another room. Her children were tucked into their dreams. Oliver made sure of that. They’d all be asleep.

Oliver Thomas kept coming back to her. She was different, by her own accord. Chloe had always been different – the type who saw the world in visions and possibilities. Someone who overcame obstacles. If she grew to be old she’d be a sweet eccentric with her window boxes full of exotic flowers and vast knowledge of the obscure and unusual.

She had a hard time making friends due to her shyness and reluctance to follow up. Her fear of rejection paralyzed her in some areas of her life. Most of life was paralyzing but she seemed to thrive and succeed.

Yet, the woman could light up a room with her wit and charm. She was a success despite her low opinion of herself.

But he’d fallen in love with her in a strange way that someone falls in love with an idea of perfection and the ideal person to share life’s adventures with.

Her teenage kids still hung all over her like toddlers, leaning on her even now. They were taller than she was, dressed in their black band shirts with trendy long hair and black painted nails. Oliver had seen Chloe once, her son with his lanky arm around her shoulder, her daughter with an arm around her waist. How many women, he wondered, envied her for the closeness she had with her children.

If it wasn’t for her children she might have checked out and left the world a long time ago. Since childhood Chloe had been uncomfortable with life and the tremendous effort it took for her to live with herself and her failures.

Oliver saw that Chloe had failed to see her success, except with her children. He didn’t want to think of her marriage with Craig. It worked better than most. In fact, for the most part, her marriage to Craig was an uncommon success.

Craig, the handsome and successful husband, was the love of her life. Even in her dreams Chloe couldn’t cheat on Craig. They’d built a life together. For her that was enough. More than enough she told herself.

But Oliver knew it wasn’t enough. Chloe found her life in others but kept her secret soul and passions locked up, bound in shadows and secrets.

At one time, Oliver and Chloe had been lovers. The memory of her warm skin, her lips on his own, her hands in his hair and her passion haunted him. He’d come and gone from her life assuming she’d always be there.

Now he was only with her in the dream world of the night. She’d remember him in another time and place in long lost memories of centuries past. She’d think she’d had a life in another time with him, a past life of possibilities and promise and passion.

An unlikely candidate this middle aged working mom, too tired and busy to think of herself except when she let her imagination fly as she commuted to school and work in her car each morning, or when she dozed off at night in her own secret places.

The passions were still in her, as it had been when she was young. How could that be? He kissed her then buried his face into her neck and when he’d had enough of her he silently left her with dreams of passion and desire.

The following evening Oliver looked up from his desk and there she was, standing in the doorway. Black dress, apple green sweater, black heels. The blue Coach bag, a 50th birthday present from her husband was slung over her shoulder. She looked she owned the world, but she still didn’t think she was beautiful.

How did she find me here? I never told her where I live?

“Chloe.” He said her name as if in a dream.

“Don’t Chloe me Oliver. I want you to leave me alone.”

He stood and approached her with his hands held out. “It was always the wrong time or place for us.”

She stepped back ignoring his open arms. “Don’t even start with me Oliver. It would have never worked. You always said I was too independent. Then you turned around and called me needy.”

“I never said any of those things.” He was shocked by her accusations.

“You didn’t have to say it. You made it obvious you were thinking it.”

He didn’t respond. This wasn’t the time for the witty dialog they’d shared in the past, the long talks through the night or the sweet lover’s words.

“Chloe, you can’t stand there before me and say that with a straight face.”

She looked at the floor then looked up straight into his eyes. “You never told me you loved me.”

“I didn’t have to.”

“Bull shit. You just expected me to hang around and wait for you to come in and out of my life. It got old Oliver. But it doesn’t matter. I’m married to a man who loves me the way I am. I’m successful, happy and I love my life.”

“I doubt if Craig realizes what a fortunate man he is.”

“He knows.”

“Did you ever tell him about me?” Oliver took a step forward. Chloe folded her arms as if to shut him out.

“I haven’t told anyone about you. They’d all think I was nuts. Just like my Aunt Margaret when she talked about her Vampire.”

“You still love me Chloe.” Oliver said those words quietly with such passion that almost no woman would be able to resist. No woman except Chloe.

She turned and left, slamming the door behind her.

Oliver watched from the window as she got in her car and drove away. The slightest hint of regret surged through his dark thoughts. He’d never meet another who captured his heart and his passions like she had. He’d never meet anyone who made him laugh or feel the joy of being like Chloe had.

Oliver heard the steps behind him but didn’t turn around. A warm hand caressed his shoulder.

“Is she gone?” The speaker was obviously annoyed.

“Yes.”

“Does she have any idea I’m here?”

“No.”

Craig looked out the window. “Good. Where do we go from here?”

“Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?”

“My son is an Emo freak who acts in plays and writes poetry for fun. My daughter won’t talk to anyone unless it’s a text. My wife is never going to lose the baby fat or stop telling stupid jokes or snoring or complaining how hard she works. This wasn’t what I signed up for.”

“I understand.”

“Just for once I want what I want. I don’t want to go home to a woman who is tired all the time and can’t even comprehend my needs.”

“What about your children? You must care about them on some level.”

“They’ll be fine without me. Chloe will have two million dollars in life insurance to get the kids through college. There’s another 10 million in assets she can sell off if she has to. She’ll make sure her children have wonderful memories of me.”

“The news of your death will break her heart.”

Craig scowled at Oliver. “Chloe is already so miserable she won’t even notice. She’ll be happy to be the unfortunate widow and bask in the glow of her own sorrow. I’m doing her a favor by dying rather than divorcing her.”

“And your girlfriends?” Asked Oliver.

“They’re whores who think they can get ahead by sleeping with the CEO. They’ll both get their pink slips next week. So now what?”

Oliver went back around to his desk and sat in the antique leather chair. “Your car will be found in the river and it will be assumed your body was washed away with the currents. Your wallet and a few clothing items will be found washed up on a beach. It will be assumed that you died.”

“So when do I change?”

“Change?”

“When do I become like you? A Vampire.” Craig asked this impatiently almost sounding like a spoilt teen.

Oliver took a deep breath and answered him. “Tonight if you want, but I’d rather wait until tomorrow.”

Craig leaned on the desk close to the Vampire. “I want this Oliver. I want my freedom.”

“You’ll get what you want Craig.”

“Oliver, I’m telling you…”

Craig started to speak but Oliver held up his hand. “We’ll take my jet to Rome in the morning. By the time we get there you’ll be a different man. The old Craig will be gone forever. In the meantime, you need to see your children one last time.”

Chloe sat in the high school auditorium waiting for the play to start. A Midsummer’s Night Dream. Her son played Lysander.

Craig had called earlier to tell her he was working late. He’d been sorry to miss the play but said he’d see it on closing night next weekend. She thought she was going to throw up. She pulled out her phone and listened to the message she’d received right after she’d seen Oliver.

A sing song girlish voice said “Chloe this is Trinity, Craig’s assistant. I wanted to let you know that I’ve been sleeping with your husband for about two years. He asked me to do all those crazy nasty fetish things you wouldn’t do and I would do anything for him. I really really loved him and would have done anything at all for him but he dumped me for Tara Hall. She’s like the VP of Marketing. They’ve been doing it since October so he was two timing on me too. Stupid puke. So when he says he is gone on business he’s really with her. I just thought you’d want to know because you seem like a nice lady.”

It was the fifth time she’d listened to it. Each time she’d hoped she’d heard it wrong but that wasn’t the case.

A text came in from Craig saying he had a change of plans and was on his way.

Concentrate. Don’t think about him. It isn’t true. He’ll be here any minute. Don’t cry.

The house lights went down and the play started.

Oliver Thomas stood on the side of the river and watched the emergency crews on the opposite shore drag out a sliver convertible, the headless body of the driver still strapped in the seat. Some unfortunate member of the police department would find sightless eyes attached to a severed head staring up at him from the floor of the passenger seat.

Witnesses said the car had suddenly gone out of control, like the driver was trying to avoid hitting something. The convertible rolled and went into the water. It had been too dark to get any useful details.

Craig wanted to be free of his wife and children. A man should have what he wants after all.

Now Oliver would do it right. He’d wait a few months, he had time and he’d be there for Chloe and her children, like he should have been all along.

 

~ End

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

(first posted April 2013)

 

Tangled Tales

 

Vampire Diary: Modern Technology

Dear Diary,

The cat came home wet and covered with mud. I am not amused.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I find that after one has been sealed in a crypt, against his will, for three hundred years, one has time to think. I thought many things during those three centuries sealed in a crypt with a knife through my heart.

That is literally a knife, not figuratively like the rejection of a lover. I was the Vampire King the rejection of a lover was not something that was possible.

After being rescued after three hundred years in captivity I find myself in a world full of wonders and confusion. I quickly took to automobiles. I have both electric and gas powered automobiles. Yet I have found that electricity makes it both easier and more difficult for the tasks involved in being a Vampire. Light at the touch of a switch can ruin any meal.

Last night I was in a dark corner, my fangs sinking into the neck of my dinner companion when suddenly there were lights. Someone yelled, “I found a Vaporeon, oh crap, shit, sorry. I didn’t know you two…”

I looked up, blood dripping from my chin. I never drip blood. Holding up my hand I whispered for them to turn and forget what they saw. The memories were erased from their minds.

Electricity. What is the saying they say about being damned if you do our you do not? Damned if you are a Vampire caught sucking blood from the necks of unsuspecting hipsters. I like that word hipster. It makes me smile with thoughts of humor.

~ Vlad

 

 

Dear Diary,

I have gone unnoticed in history. I am a Vampire so I should not be surprised. We keep our histories to ourselves, or hide our true selves.

When I was out tonight a group of young women caught my attention. They came to me like moths to flames, or more like small children to candy. Seduction is easy when one is a Vampire.

They told me that I am cute. I still do not understand this cute. Cats are cute. Babies are cute. I am not a cat or a baby. One said I was gorgeous. That I understand. That young woman, she is called Heather, speaks the truth.

One of the women asked if I was Russian and mentioned Vladimir Putin. They said he was not so cute. Of course he is not cute. Being called Vlad does not automatically make one cute. Then they giggled (I never understood the excessive giggling of young women) and mentioned Vlad the Impaler. I am not Russian or an impaler.

Oh the bane of my modern existence is this man Vlad the Impaler whom I consider an imposter. There is NOTHING cute about Vlad III, Prince of Wallachia, otherwise sometimes said to have inspired the fictional Dracula. The man sold his soul but was no Vampire.

“That Vlad was not cute,” I said to the women. They giggled. I did, what do they say…I scored big time.

I could have told the young women about the cruelties he inflicted on women and children, but cooking them alive and forcing their families to eat them. I could have told them the things he did to the wives of the men he hated, but I did not.

I would rather seduce a population than rule them in fear. Maybe that is what they mean by cute. No, maybe not. On the other hand, that is exactly what cats do. Cats are cute. Maybe.

I remember when I first heard word of Vlad the Impaler. My Baba told me about him and said I must be careful. I told her, “Baba, I’ve been Vampire King for over two hundred years, I know what I am doing. He will not bring fear upon the hearts of my people.”

Baba said, “Grandson, you must watch, not just in the shadows, but in the light. Watch for those who are not only powerful, but watch for those who rule with fear and malice. You rule with power and the seduction of a Vampire. Those outside of your rule fear you. Never let those who live under your protection live in fear of you.”

Vlad the Impaler was killed by a rival and buried in an unmarked grave. He was no Vampire. The world has not changed in so many ways. Technology abounds yet humans still prove themselves to be stupid and cruel. Humans prove they are sheep who follow a lead, only to find themselves being eaten alive.

After I’d had my fill of blood, at the home of one of the women, I walked to my car, thinking about this strange world I woke up in.

I closed my eyes and thought of the warm skin of one of the girls on my lips, and her hot hands on my body, and I wondered if she could also be considered cute. She was beautiful, but empty in the way so many young girls are. One day she will find wisdom through experience, and that will be even a more delicious night.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I imagine what my Baba would think of this new world I have found myself in. I remember her bringing me a cup of warm blood and singing me songs of night. Even when I was a grown man she was there with stories of great Vampire Kings of the past, and the time when she was almost a Vampire Queen. I told her that she would always be my Queen. Baba would pat me on the head and smile showing her magnificent fangs. Then she would call me good boy and tell me to drink my blood.

Tonight my lover Gillian came to my house. She is the stars in my sky. She is the key to the universe. Gillian understands technology, as I would have if I had not been locked up for so many years.

When she kissed me I could taste blood on her lips. “You have already eaten,” I said.

She smiled and kissed my neck. “Just a snack.”

I love that woman.

Driving an automobile came easy to me. That was never a problem. Gillian helped me master the television remote, all of those apple things which are not fruits, and power tools. I find power tools quite exciting, especially the chain saw and the belt sander.

I also like the blow dryer on my golden locks. I feel the power of the hot air going through my hair as if I have harnessed the great winds coming down from the sky at my beck and call. One must get thrills where he can if one is no longer King of the Vampires.

And there are closets in houses. Closets are the best thing of all.

After a night out with Gillian I found myself in her arms, not wanting her to ever leave. I find that love has changed over the centuries as well, even among Vampires.

“Move in with me,” I told her. “This house is large with a lot of closets.”

She pulled me closer. “Are closets all you have to offer?”

“I will show you what I have to offer,” I told her.

No need to write more.

~ Vlad

 

 

Kissed by a Vampire

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Perfection

Just a story about Max – my eldest brother. ~ Juliette

_______________________

Perfection

Maxwell drove down the coastal highway, roof open under the stars and the cool night air, thinking about his life as a top of the heap alpha male Vampire. It was a good time to ponder.

He didn’t have personal friendships with humans, the way some other Vampires did. He would protect them when necessary but he wouldn’t be their friend – at least not a close friend, not for a long time.

Of course he had human lovers, but that was pure physical need for their touch and their blood.

Vampire woman were another matter. He tended to be a freak magnet when it came to them. The normal ones were out there but they were always involved or off-limits in some way or another. Or they were too strong and independent. Or in rare moments, years ago, he’d used bad judgement and not seen the big picture. Screw the big picture, he’d grown up and moved on. He was different now.

There were always other men, but right now he had the need for a female of his own kind. Someone safe and easy. Someone who would be there for him after a job that often involved violence and other unpleasantries.

He’d had plenty of friends with benefits.

Camel by the Sea. The beautiful village on the California coast. A place full of artists and rich people and those just wanting some peace and quiet. His Grandmama had lived here when the artist colony was thriving at the turn of the 20th century. He used to visit her and fall in love with the place and everyone in it.

This weekend was the Concourse de Elegance the most prestigious car show in the universe. Everyone who was anyone would be here, including Vampire Hunters. And since Max was the world’s foremost hunter of Vampire Hunters he was looking forward to it. A weekend of perfect cars, perfect women and perfect hunting.

It had been a long day and a long drive. He took his bags out of the car and walked to the door of the cottage he’d rented with 3 of his colleagues. He wasn’t sure who’d be here as it was last notice for him. He’d hoped it would be Pierce and David, two of the best and total car guys. He figured as long as they were there they might as well have some fun.

He used his key and as he opened the door cheers came up. Female cheers.

Elizabeth, Janye and Mehitabel. Vampire women who were also Hunter/Enforcers of the highest order and all GIRLS.

This was not what he was expecting. Not at all.

They exchanged warm greetings (he didn’t show his true feelings about the situation) and he left to shower off the weariness of the road. As he was drying off he could hear the girls talking. He stopped rubbing his hair to listen.

Janye: I can’t believe the choices Max makes. His last girlfriend was one of those types who always looks perfect and helpless. A total control freak.

Elizabeth: Total bitch. She just used him and he was too stupid to know it. Oh my God she had fangs like a saber tooth tiger, no it was more like a rabbit. And she was always telling everyone how attractive she was. I wish she’d done us all a favor and gone down with the Titanic.

Mehitabel: She used him. Most of them just used him. He wouldn’t know his perfect match if she slapped him across the face.

The women went on talking about his physical attributes (excellent), his professional attributes (excellent), his qualities as a Vampire (outstanding) and his relationships with woman (pathetic.) Great, this was going to be a wonderful weekend.

He’d known all three of them for years, over 100 but he’d never heard this side of the story. Damn. Was he that ridiculous? No, it had to be them. Women were so skewed.

He’d always been friends with Elizabeth and Jayne. It wasn’t like the movies or books where Vampire women drop their clothes and crawl naked all over their dominant male counterparts. Besides, these two were like sisters.

Then there was Mehitabel. Beautiful and strange, at least to him. He couldn’t stay away from her at one time, but he couldn’t be with her, not in his heart. She was too easy for him to use. He’d never love her, but he’d never met a woman so sexy, who could drive him so insane with desire. But she wasn’t the one. He made that clear from the start. It would never be.

The women helped him bring in the weapons and they sat around the table with bottles of wine, Bourbon and blood. They laughed over old times, new times and everything in between.

Despite his first impression he knew these three Vampire women were at the top of their game and would be loyal and true with him. And in turn he would do anything to protect them. They’d be a good team. They’d get the job done.

Beside that, he knew they’d like the cars.

They were excited to show him their dresses. Elizabeth, the most outgoing, a California blonde of the first order, had a red-flowered strapless sundress of silk with a wide skirt and strappy red heels. Jayne had a royal blue halter dress that looked like it had come right out of Grace Kelly’s closet. A redhead with an attitude, Jayne had a fierce sence of humor and a fierce sence of the fight. Mehitabel had a black sheath dress with a pattern of leaves woven into the fabric. It was form fitting, which was good since she had an extraordinary form. She’d wear it with a long strand of real black pears and matching earrings. She’d wear her brown hair sleek and long.

Mehitabel was as odd and unusual as her name, but he had always liked her. He was drawn to her humor and her matter of fact ways with a touch of something sad that he could never quite figure out.

He’d also had a history with Mehitabel. She knew his every move. And in turn he knew every move she made, every inch of her body, everything she had to give him and then some. But she wasn’t the one. She wasn’t the girl of his dreams. She was different. Max wasn’t looking for different. He was looking for perfection. But that was a long time ago, at least 90 years, maybe more like 100.

As the night went on he thought maybe he’d relive some of the magic of days gone by. It would be a way to get off some of the tension before a week of dangerous work.

“I’m going to go to the beach. Anyone want to join me?” He asked that as he looked at the women.

“Sure,” said Mehitabel, “I’ll go.”

They walked along making small talk. It seems so comfortable and so right. Old friends forever, just like old time. As they came to the beach on the edge of the Pacific Ocean Mehitabel became silent.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Max said, ready to make a move on her. One kiss and she’d be his for the week. The others wouldn’t care, unless it was pure envy.

Mehitabel stepped away. “It was never friends with benefits or fuck buddies or whatever you want to call it with me Max. I loved you but you never wanted it. You just threw it away and treated me like some common girl that needed to be slut shamed. I loved you for so long and now I don’t know. I’m not perfect enough for you. You want a woman who will break your heart into a thousand shards and I can’t do that for you. If you had spent some time with me, some real-time and looked past the imperfections…”

“I never said that…” Max protested.

“You didn’t have to. You used me Max. You used me so I had to let you go. Don’t you understand?” Mehitabel was now angry, something he’d never seen.

He tried to take her hand, “The last time we saw each other, I mean romantically, you were the one who turned me away. You told me to go.”

She stepped away again. “To go back to your girlfriend. I wasn’t going to be with a man who was cheating on another girl, especially another Vampire. I told you that. Remember?”

Max remembered too well. She’d always been so friendly and compliment about his relationship rules.

Mehitabel continued her rant. “And there had been no romance. Sure we’d talked into the night. Sure we had some sort of weird connection where we could read each other’s thoughts, excuse me, I could read your thoughts, or at least I know when you’re thinking about ME, but it was never romance. Not with you it wasn’t. You did everything you could to talk yourself out of caring about me.”

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” Max said gently, trying to calm her.

“I know that.”

She was right. She always knew. There was some sort of strong connection where she always knew when he was thinking about her. It was spooky.

“Why didn’t you contact me?” Max was almost feeling hurt that she’d think of ignoring him after all of their history.

“Why didn’t you love me Max?”

“It wasn’t like that Mehitabel. I was just looking for something else.”

“What? Oh right, perfection. Well Max, I might be among the most elite hunters on the planet but I’ll never be anything but an imperfect slut to you. I’m never going to let you break my heart again. Do you understand that Max?”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

She walked down the beach alone. He wondered if she was crying. He’d find out later.

Over the years he’d taken down Werewolves, Vampire Hunters with fire blowers, Ghosts, Rogue Vampires and Zombies. He’d seen it all. He was Maxwell August Todd, one of the greatest Enforcer/Hunters of all time, but this was one battle he couldn’t win.

“Mehitabel, I’m sorry,” he called after her.

Then he remembered something his mother had told him, one of those things that he wished he’d remembered earlier. “Max, my darling boy, remember, if we were all perfect then life would be so boring you’d hardly be able to stand it.”

Looking down the beach at the woman walking along the edge of the night surf, he suddenly realized he was in love and this would be the most difficult fight of his life.

He called her name again. She turned and yelled “Go to Hell.”

“Yes,” he said to himself out loud, “to hell and back.”

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

girl in grass

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/perfection/