NightFall: Book One: Bloodlust Is the Cure for the Immortal Soul (7 page)

BOOK: NightFall: Book One: Bloodlust Is the Cure for the Immortal Soul
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Therefore, they feel they must destroy it.” Saldivar waved a hand towards Van. “Take you, for instance. You have no money and no home.
Nothing.
You were forced by fate against you to beg on the Paris streets like a worthless pauper. Therefore, the people thought of themselves as more civilized than you. Better than the countless others in the same plight as you like you were made to be looked down upon. They have wealth
and extravagant homes. You have nothing. To them, you are the unknown.
The misunderstood.
They made you feel inferior with a mere look in their relentless eyes. To them, you are a common shell of a man. You should not be made to feel that way.” Saldivar looked at Van with discernment. “You need not say anything. I feel your shame emanating throughout your heart and soul. Your shame is misplaced. You must know that these wealthy people look upon families with a mediocre background with sneering faces. They are foolish mortals. They have empty thoughts.
Shallow minds.
Superficial needs. They base their status on earthly possessions, not even considering that these things will be here when they lay
in the cold ground, returning to the dust in w
hich they were first created.”
S
aldivar shook his head and sighed
.

Van furrowed his brows, contemplating Saldivar’s keen observance of what he knew to be true as well. He recalled earlier when he was on the street, waiting for and hoping a few people would toss a few coins his way for food. He remembered the way the
y glanced at him with revulsion, t
urning their noses up as if looking for more than one reason to look down upon h
im, t
o shun him.
Women, wrinkling their powdered faces like they could not stand the sight of him.
Men, chuckling at him when they sauntered past, mocking him with their riches.
The women on the arms of their escorts, throwing coins at him,
as if
trying to further humiliate him, then giggling like it was some kind of farce. They found his pain and lowliness amusing. He had emotions. He felt things. Probably more so than
those unfeeling people who
he considered less human than himself.
Money does
not make a person. It does not give you an inner peace and strength. A giving heart and a kind soul made
a person, regardless of their place in this world. Regardless of what kind of blood ran through your veins. You could cut a rich person or a poor one. Each cut would run red. Upon the
elite, he believed frigid waters ran through their veins, piercing their shell of a heart, encasing it the
way freezing snow would the roof
tops of the village.

Saldivar smiled. “Your thoughts have such powerful conviction, Van. Were you on stage giving that incisive speech, I would wager the whole village would stop and listen and absorb your heartfelt words.”

Van’s lips upturned graciously but it was shadowed with doubt. He crossed his arms and stared purposely out the window. “But, Saldivar, you hide from the world because of what you are. I hide from the same because of who I am. Only my hiding place is right out in the open. People look at me but do not really see me. We are the same, you and I, yet we lead two very different lives.

“You respect a world that condemns you. Just as they condemn me. Noses upturned. Sneers, japes and laughs. All at my expense, I might add.” Van threw his arms to the side and faced Saldivar, the only stranger to take pity on him. “I cannot afford their laughter any longer. I cannot even comprehend how
you
live in such seclusion when you have this house.
Your clothes.”
He pointed to Saldivar.
“Your elegance and sophistication.
You would easily be accepted into their circle.”

Saldivar laced his fingers behind his back and walked calmly across the rug in the room, thinking.

After much deliberation, Saldivar halted his steps. A heavy sigh escaped his red lips. “You speak with a heavy heart. One might wonder at your education. Your words are wholly brilliant and very intelligible.
Being orphaned at thirteen, my guess is you have learned a lot simply from passers-by, along with what your parents taught you……..don’t you see?” Saldivar’s voice raised a notch. “Such a clever mind should not waste away, buried as you will be buried near your thirtieth year. Why waste it? Why…..when you have an eternity to build upon it?”

Van could clearly see the gleam of animation and conviction in Saldivar’s dark amber eyes but Van had lived with his cynicism so long, it was hard to break away from it.

“Doubt has eaten away at your mind.”

Saldivar’s words were right on target.
Van thought for a moment, a frown forming
on his face. “Saldivar, I have been wondering for some time now. Why did you trust me to keep your secret?”

Saldivar’s lips curved in the all-knowing expression Van has come to see often in the short time he’s known him. “Think about it. Who would you tell? And would they believe you? If you said the word ‘vampire’, no doubt the men in white coats would put you away and throw out the key. You would have less time to live in the asylum than on the streets. The point of me coming to help would all be for nothing.”

Van sighed, knowing that, once again, Saldivar’s explanation was true. Telling people that he had seen a vampire would warrant a straight jacket and a patted room all to himself.
Then and only then would he pray for a quick death.
He knew what went on in those awful places. You went in slightly out of your head and came out completely insane. That is, if you made it out alive. Most did not, however.

Van shivered unconsciously. Of course he would not say anything. H
e had no friends to talk to, t
o confide in.

“You
do
have a friend, Van.”
Saldivar looked at him intently. “Me. You must understand that I
am
your friend. I know you have been alone for a very long time and it is so difficult for you to believe me. But, in time, you will. But time is short for you, I am afraid.”

Van glanced down at his feet, not knowing what to think or do or say.

“I tell you what,”
Saldivar started, placing a hand on Van’s shoulder. “You do have
some
time. Why not let me show you my world as I see it? What I do? How I feed? Socialize? I think that will help you come to a better decision.
One that you can live with.”

At Saldivar’s suggestion, Van contemplated the idea. It sounded reasonable. What else did he have to lose?

“Your life,”
Saldivar told him gravely.

Van’s shoulders sagged in subjection. What could it hurt? Did he really want to go back to living on the streets? Begging for money? Being mocked? Ill used by society?

Saldivar could feel Van’s alleviation. It was evident in his gray eyes. Now all he had to do was convince Van to succumb to everlasting life.

“All right, Saldivar,”
Van agreed, extending his arm. “Show me your world.”

CHAPTER IV

 

In the beginning, Van was overwhelmed by Saldivar’s life.
His nightly feedings.
The way his teeth pierced the skin of an unsuspecting female.
He noted that Saldivar never said ‘victim’ or ‘prey’. That somehow meant torture or death. He was not part of such macabre demeanor. He valued life. He did not destroy it.

As time went on, the overwhelmed feeling was replaced with admiration. Van discovered that Saldivar lived a rather cultured life. He did not make excuses for what he did nor did he apologize for what he was. He was absolutely content with the life he had chosen.

Because of Saldivar’s money, he was respected. Oh, not for his outstanding character or his gracious attitude; just his riches. He paid these people no mind.

Shallow was the term Saldivar used to describe these people. He did not care what they thought of him. Nor was he concerned with being accepted in their circle.

If they only knew.
Van smiled inside at the thought. Van also knew it took a great deal of will power to achieve this kind of nirvana. Saldivar had told him a sordid story while they were strolling about his castle during a beautiful, starry night.

*

“Back when I was just a young vampire, I had managed to
find a decent place to live,”
Saldivar began. “By then, I had made a younger friend named Annabel. She became like a sister to me. I w
ould have done anything for her a
nd
she
for me. A few weeks later, she moved in to help with costs and just to be near a true friend. As time went on, I acquired two more friends. A man named
Jacques and a woman named Len
ette. They had moved in. They had promised to
help
out
as well
. They were my friends so I didn’t question these promises.

“In the beginning, it was great. We laughed, enjoyed one another’s company and talked for hours. They did some questionable things that I would not do but I did not judge my friends. After a few months had gone by, things started to unravel. I noticed Jacques and Lenette started getting lax in paying their dues. Lenette constantly complained about how much work and cleaning she was doing when in reality, she did very little. The fact of the matter was that my friend, Annabel and I did everything, including paying all dues. I began getting angry at the fact that Jacques acted like he owned everything around him. He wanted everything his way. He was very spoiled. Lenette was no different. She acted as though she was the servant of the household. In truth, Lenette and Jacques were frauds. They wanted the high life without working or paying for it.

“There was a time Annabel had some kind of temporary head sickness and needed to be watched until it passed. I sacrificed time and money to stay with her. Jacques and Lenette did not care. If it was not about them or if it was not happening to them, it was not worth their time.

“After months and months of this treatment, I started feeling depressed. I had no time to myself. Lenette and Jacques were always wanting something or trying to control Annabel or me. Eventually, I snapped. I had had all I was going to take from those emotional and money hungry leeches with evil
souls. I was sorely tempted to
d
rain
them dry. They were not
friends to me any more. But I kicked them out and told them never to shadow my doorstep again or else.

“I know I should have done that earlier but since I felt a friendship with them at first, I tried giving them a chance to prove themselves. As you can tell, they never did. I heard a couple of years later that Jacques and Lenette were stoned to death in the city for beating an older man nearly to death for his jewels. The man they thrashed was a very important figure. They had no idea or they did not care. Either way, they were justly punished for their crime.

“But after I threw them out, Annabel and I lived quite happily until her passing four years later.” Saldivar finished that last statement on a sad note. He looked pained
to even say it.

“They never even knew I was a vampire. Mainly because I would never
partake of a friend’s blood u
nless they are t
o be transformed
.”

*

Van knew Saldivar lived in the lap of luxury now. Women, single or not, threw themselves at him. He was not an egotistical man by any means but he did bask in the glow of all the devotion. Women were willing to stick their necks out for him. It seemed effortless for him. They would only remember the encounter as an erotic dream.
Nothing more.
The two tiny marks would have disappeared before they noticed.

Saldivar enlightened him of this. He could take without force.
Without provocation.
Without injuring his prize.
He could drink at his leisure. He was clever at not calling any undue notice to himself when he went about his nightly feedings.

As for a mate, Van knew of none. But as time went on, he often wondered why. Wondered if Saldivar ever had any one special or just preferred his solitude. He figured that, eventually, Saldivar would want a female companion and mentioned it to him one day. Saldivar’s answer was simple but elusive. “One day, I will explain.” That was all he ever said about it.

Van was more baffled than ever. Every one needed companionship.
One person to complement the other.
He, of all people should know what alone felt like. He could not conceive going four hundred plus years without a female by your side. He strongl
y doubted Saldivar could
as well. But Saldivar held fast to his reply. He would tell his anecdote one day. Unlike Van, Saldivar had all the time in the world. Van would wait patiently. He knew there was a reason why Saldivar was closed-mouthed on some things. If he had explained to him about his life long ago before they were in his home, Van would have rushed to the busy streets, screaming like a lunatic that there was a vampire in the alley. Enter the men white coats.
The asylum.
Then death.

Saldivar knew that that is what would have happened. He had to build some type of trust. If he did not, Van would have been put away, making it much more difficult to help him. It was hard breaking in to or out of the mad house. Being committed, however, was not too onerous. You could be thrown in simply for being antithetical. Society was a cruel and unjust mistress. Alas, a mistress to be taken seriously.

Van pondered at is own life as well as Saldivar’s. Questions about the things he did hundreds of years ago. Did he fight for France? Was he an outstanding soldier
during the Hundred Years’ War in the 1400’s? Did he ever marry? Is the reason he was alone today a reflection of a loss of a great wife or lover? Who was his family now? Why has fate brought them together at this very day and time?

Too many unanswered questions left Van with a headache. He knew Saldivar had a place and time to tell. His guess was that only when he was transformed will all the questions finally be clarified.

Did he really want to know that badly? Was living forever something Van could handle?

Did he want to live?

Just t
hat easily, he knew the answer
.

Yes. Yes! He wanted life. No matter
that it was eternal. What could he have been thinking? Dying in a few short years? Perhaps, even months or days? He did not want to die a no one. He did not want to die at all. He wanted to live and accomplish life itself. He wanted wealth, women and a home to call his own. Ultim
ately, he wanted a life mate, a
woman to
share his life with.
For as long as she lived upon this Earth.

That was the one thorn in Van’s side. On one hand, he would have a love. On the other hand, however, his life would go on and he would live to see her die. He feared he could not stand to lose countless loves. He could not see himself being able to handle even a single loss.

Is that why Saldivar is alone? Is he afraid to lose a love time and time again?

Unfortunately, there were pros and cons to any decision you make in life.
Yours or someone else’s.

Van opted to tell Saldivar tonight of his revelation. Saldivar had gone down to his resting place hours ago and Van was thoroughly exhausted thinking about everything that had happened and the thought of what will happen. Van went to his room and, though very tired, he slept fitfully.
His head tossing and turning.
Sweat beading on his forehead and upper lip.

*

“Vaannn,”
the sultry voice whispered.

Van turned his head toward the alley.
Nothing but darkness and shadow.

The shadow moved, f
ormed into a bat-like creature with red eyes and huge fangs. It screeched so loudly Van covered his ears and screamed from the pain. No one heard. The streets of Paris were empty.

Empty? It was only early evening. People were supposed to be out and about like he has always seen them. Where were they?

The bat-like shadow creature screeched once again and flapped its enormous wings so fast the wind it produced knocked Van down.

“Vvaaannnnn,”
it called again. This time, it was much harsher.
Almost grating in to the flesh and ears.
“Come to me. It’s over. Give in to death. I am so very hungry.”

Van’s eyes were as round as saucers. His mouth opened.
Silence.
The creature began to descend onto Van’s fallen body.

All Van could do was cross his arms over his face.

Before the shadow touch him, it broke apart into hundreds of little blood sucking demons.

Van screamed and woke up before the demon creature had a chance to sink its teeth into his skin. His heart was beating out of his chest. He could not catch his breath. He could not swallow. Sweat poured from his pale face. He sat up, trying to collect himself. Calm his beating heart. Ease his rapid breathing.

He went to the basin, which had cooled, and splashed his hot face with the cooling liquid. He cupped his hand into the water once more, bringing it to his dry lips, quenching his parched throat.

Not being able to recall much of the nightmare now, Van went back to bed and fell asleep instantly.

*

Saldivar awoke with a jolt. It was not quite dusk yet. Van’s distress clutched his mind in a vice like grip and would not let go of its powerful grasp. He could feel Van’s mind racing as well as his heart. Both seemed erratic.

Van is troubled. Saldivar feared this. He must have had that same nightmare Saldivar had centuries ago warning him that death is near, and soon, if not transformed, death would claim him. Saldivar predicted this. He knew what this meant. Van had
to make a choice. For in two more days, he will draw his last breath. Saldivar felt a chill down to the very marrow of his bones.

They have wasted far too much time. He will have to confront Van tonight and ask him once more. If he does not accept the gift, Saldivar will reluctantly say good
bye and grieve for the loss. He would move on. It was the way it had to be.

Saldivar once again closed his eyes and waited for nightfall.

*

Van was pacing the floor when Saldivar entered the room. He stopped mid-step and faced Saldivar with eyes of pure fear and pain.

“You are in clear torment.” It was not a question.

Van nodded silently. He could not reiterate the nightmare. Although he could not recall much, a surreal feeling passed through him. Even he thought, or perhaps, convinced himself it did no happen.

Saldivar sai
d one lucid word: “Nightmare,”
but lucid was the last thing it felt like to Van.

BOOK: NightFall: Book One: Bloodlust Is the Cure for the Immortal Soul
8.44Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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