The Blind Vampire Hunter (16 page)

I just moved on, allowing myself to be sucked
into the crowd and into the festive night air. It did nag me a
little that I had no idea who this “Bond, James Bond” was. I soon
lost this minor annoyance within the overabundance of festive
outfits. I particularly fancied the ghosts, goblins and the other
vampires that were out in multitude. Eventually it did begin to
bother me that out of the overabundance of fellow costumed
vampires, there was not one who was a real vampire like me. “I want
to bite your neck,” interrupted my concern about the lack of real
vampires. Suddenly, standing right at my side in the crowd of
revelers was this big hunk of a vampire. Shame he was just another
phony. Even within the noisy crowd I could hear his heartbeat and
smell the humanity on him.

I answered coquettishly, “Right here, in the
middle of this crowd?”

He grabbed my arm and pulled me through the
crowd, into an alleyway. Totally away from the eyes of the crowd,
he disappointed me with, “So what did you have in mind, you little
vampire vixen you?”

I really thought this guy was going to be
different, more commanding, more original, but then what could I
expect from a guy who used that so old, over used line, “I want to
bite your neck—really.” So I moved in, looked deeply into his eyes,
and said, “I am going to bite you in the neck.”

He was so tall I had to go up on my tip-toes
to get to his neck. I had to give him credit, though, he did not
move or even flinch as I sunk my fangs into his neck. I thoroughly
enjoyed my second snack of the night. I had a tempting thought of
sharing my blood with him, truly turning this big hunk of a man
into a real vampire, and I might have if he had not introduced
himself with that horrid opening line. When I left the alleyway and
moved back into the crowd, I looked back at the remains of my
second snack. He was still alive, breathing a little hard from the
lack of blood, but fine otherwise and totally in rhapsody with his
thoughts. This was turning into one memorable night.

I was enjoying the night, the sights, sounds,
and the smells of overexcited humans. Again my musings was
interrupted by a very tall woman in a black leather outfit full of
belts, buckles, and chains,

“Hey bitch. You look like my kind of meat,”
she said.

For a moment I thought I was face to face
with a real troll. Not all trolls are ugly, just like not all
humans are ugly. I took a breath of air and was assured that I
smelled human under the overpowering smell of leather and perfumed
soap.
Great, this over use of the female dog terminology
included American women as well.
Making a point of showing off
an impressive whip in her hand, she added, “I have just the thing
for you, bitch.”

“Surely not right here in the middle of this
crowd of people?” I almost whimpered playing her role with a smile
as she pointed the whipped hand at a nearby doorway, the submissive
role to her dominating dominatrix. Isabella’s play acting almost
caused the dominatrix to slipped out of character. Regaining her
composure she ordered, “Go in there and walk through the lobby
without saying a word to anyone. Take the stairs up to the next
floor. Stop in front of room 211, and I will let you in.” Blood
from a woman is just as sweet as from a man. In my pre-vampire days
I only used blood from women...for my baths. Over time I did
develop a feeling of strangeness from getting orgasmic while
feeding off a woman. It was even stranger when my female meal would
get orgasmic in my presence as a result of being feed upon. But
human blood is human blood, so I followed her directions to her
hotel room....

The door was slightly open, so I walked in.
She was already in the room. While I could not see her as yet, I
could smell her and her arousing sexual excitement.
Must have
taken the elevator while I took the stairs as I was
instructed.

Once inside, I walked to the center of the
room before turning to face my next snack. She was standing behind
the door, so she was in position to close the door behind me. When
she slid the bolt lock, she turned and let loose with the whip very
impressively, snapping it loud and sharp while not endangering me
by really smacking me with it.

I moved in, making eye contact with my snack
over made up eyes. As I closed in, I heard the whip slip harmlessly
to the floor. As I moved in closer, I saw no reason for ruining the
moment with speech. I easily sunk my fangs into her neck and went
on to enjoying the meal, despite the aroma of piss leaking down the
inside of her leather outfit and onto the floor. The flavoring of
fear pumping through her blood system was so engrossing that I lost
myself in my feeding and forgot my oath that no meal would die this
night. I held her up until I had bled her to death. After I had my
fill, I let her lifeless form drop to the floor, now just as dead
as her whip lying next to her.

Before leaving the peaceful quiet of the room
for the festive mayhem of Halloween in Georgetown, I made use of
the bathroom to clean myself up. Hundreds of years old and I still
could not get over no reflection in a mirror. Here I am, a beauty
like no other, even if it is magically induced, and I could only
enjoy it in the eyes and voices of my admirers. It is fortunate
that in my current residence, the family only has mirrors in their
bathrooms and their bedroom. I made a point of never going into
their bedroom outside of the time I was shown the house. Of course,
I have no problem never sharing a bathroom. A girl needs her
privacy, doesn’t she?

After making sure my vampire costume stood
muster, I left the bathroom, re-entering the main room, now
cluttered with a dead body.

Giving the carcass no more thought than not
tripping over it while walking towards the door, after all nobody
will discover this body for hours, she grinned at the thought of
lobby witnesses telling the police that her last visitor was a
vampire. Unbolted the door, she left meal litter behind and left
the hotel to be buried alive amid the revelries once more.

The fun-filled night went on.

Eventually it got late enough that it was
almost impossible to find a sober snack. I really had had my fill
for the night, with only one casualty the whole night. I went back
to my room in Maryland. Satiated like a tick about to burst, I
slept the sleep of the dead all through All Saints daylight. The
following night, I was plenty ready to go back to the quiet of the
graveyard shift at the theatre. Even more so, as the first of the
double billing was a Japanese horror import called Crimson
Countess. The billing sounded all too familiar, I had to see it for
myself.

A half hour into the movie, I walked into the
closest of the two doors leading into the theatre that was showing
the movie which had caught my interest. Just inside the door were
Ted and Jeff, two of my usher/bouncers. Easing my way in, I told
Jeff, “Jeff, take fifteen.”

“Ok, boss,” he whispered in a stage hushed
tone. He then eased out the same way I had eased in. To Ted, I
whispered, “Any problems?” I smelled the residue of smoke.

Ted whispered back, “We did have a smoker
during the trailers, I gave him the option of putting it out or
taking it out—he chose to put it out. No problems since.”

As he spoke, I watched the big screen where a
Japanese woman was bathing in blood. The camera kept moving from
the bather to the funnel system with blood flowing from a corpse on
a sacrificial slab, then back to the blood-bathing woman. Ted
whispered, “Later in the movie the Crimson Countess gets more
creative and starts using an iron maiden. The blood donors are put
inside this iron maiden shaped like a naked woman. Within the front
of the iron-maiden are a few well-placed spikes. As the iron maiden
is closed, blood starts flowing out of the open toes and into the
bath. Meanwhile, you hear these horrid screams coming from within.
Really great stuff, especially when they open the iron maiden
afterward, and this drained naked female falls out with all these
bloody punches all over her, some in some very intimate
places.”

“Ted, have you seen this movie before?” I
asked, wondering about how he knew so much about a scene in the
movie that had not even been shown yet.

“It was in the trailer for the movie....
Really cool.”

Those
were the days. Just think,
when I was alive, l lived for my blood baths and now l ... keep
unliving with my blood meals. Those really were the days. Bathing
in all that rich warm blood. It was one way to keep the Hungarian
chill off one’s body. I guess this movie isn’t any worse, or better
than any of the others like Hammer’s Blood Countess, Countess
Dracula and all the other movies based on my life. I have to admit,
I never saw myself as a light-skinned, dark-haired Asian beauty. If
they could only see me now.

You know, it has been many-a-year since I
have visited with my distant Cousin, Prince Dracula. Not a good
time to go vacationing to England right now.

Ted smells like he’s going to need a cold
shower after this movie. Work will have to suffice for now.
“Ted, walk the aisle, do your job,” I ordered. As he reluctantly
moved down the theatre aisle looking for the little flare of a
smoker or the glint of light on an unlawful bottle, I slipped out
to get back to running the place ... and the paperwork, always the
paperwork. (I was thinking about Ted getting excited watching the
film.)
Ted. I should talk. If I continued watching that movie, I
would need to go hunting tonight, and after last night’s
smorgasbord, I really did not feel like hunting tonight—no, tonight
I think I’ll dine at IHOP.

After I closed the graveyard shift, I still
did not consider hunting for a meal this night. I just went to IHOP
to dine on Celeste. Celeste, always the willing meal.

Chapter
Twelve

Celeste

“No,” Celeste emphatically announced from
behind the locked doors of the ladies’ room at IHOP. “You have been
feeding on me now for months. It’s time you turn me.”

“Turn you?” I asked.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean. I
want you to turn me in to a vampire. I have a birthday next week.
I’m getting old and losing my looks. I want you to turn me in to a
Vampire before I get any older. I want you to turn me in to a
vampire, now.”

“You don’t know what you are asking. You
always tell me how you can’t get your day started without that cup
of coffee. As a Vampire you will not be able to drink or enjoy that
cup of coffee anymore. What about those Apple Cinnamon Pancakes you
love so much? You will no longer be able to eat those pancakes, or
any other food. You will be trapped into a strict liquid protein
diet. Have you considered a total diet of blood, human blood? Have
you given any thought to having to survive on the blood of humans,
killing your fellow human to continue your existence?”

Putting her hand to her ample belly, Celeste
disputed, “I could use the weight loss of a liquid protein diet.
And I would not have to continue working at this dump. I would not
have to work at all. I can spend my nights hunting and just
enjoying the thrill of the kill.”

“Celeste, you are talking to a vampire older
than I would like to say, and I’m working.”

“But you don’t have to work. You could be
spending your nights just hunting for your meals, your free meals,
I might add.”

And that’s the crux of the problem. She has
a dangerous vampire superiority issue. This attitude could not only
bring unpleasant attention to herself, but to any vampires in her
area—like me. Don’t I know about that, locked in my own castle
until I died and was reborn; still locked in my castle, starving
for blood, until I discovered how I could change my form at will
and leave my castle prison.

“Honey, do you really think you can just kill
for your dinner? Have you ever killed for your dinner? Have you
ever done any game hunting and then dined on your kill?”

Showing signs of reluctance, she answered,
“No.”

At least I have her thinking. There may be
hope yet
. Then I said to her, “Think about it, have you ever
killed anything ... let alone any
one
?”

“You feed on me without killing me,” Celeste
announced. “You have been feeding on me for months, so many times I
can’t remember, and I am still here. What about that?”

“Yes, I do feed on you occasionally, but I
could not exist on these partial feedings. This is a partial feed,
like a snack instead of a full meal. You can’t exist on snacking.
When or if you become a vampire, you will not have the maturity to
control the hunger to the point of snacking on your prey. No, you
will kill your prey because you will become a predator, a killer.
Are you really prepared to kill? One more thing. Can you handle the
guilt after your kill?”

“Possibly ...”

“Possibly nothing. Go kill someone, then come
back to me and tell me you are ready to become a vampire.” Knowing
that Celeste was too kind-hearted to kill a fly, let alone a
person, I continued, “GO, kill some person, steal their life, then
come tell me you want to become a vampire.”

Looking defeated, Celeste almost moaned, “I’m
getting older. I don’t want to get older. I don’t want to get old.”
Then she continued defiantly, “I still will not let you feed on me
again unless it is to make me a vampire,” and after getting a
second wind, she added, “Right here, right now.”

“That’s impossible even if I wanted to.
Becoming a vampire takes time and must be at the right place. You
do realize you are asking me to kill you. You do realize you have
to die to become a vampire.”
Not totally true, I have heard of
Living Vampires, Celeste does not have to know that.
“Celeste,
dear, we would need a place where you can die and be reborn. The
process of dying and becoming reborn can take minutes, hours, or
days. We would need a proper, quiet place where your dead body can
rest in peace until you re-awaken as a vampire. This just cannot be
done here within a busy ladies’ toiletry.”