I Feel As One
In the sun, in the sun....
“Making out with Helios”. That’s what my own sire called it, days before she went out into the morning sun. Normally that kind of off-color comment would be more my bag. Guess after forty-one years together I really did rub off on her more than she let on.
I waited with her on that last night. Figured I owed it to her; Marie had always been good to me, which is more than a lot of my kind can say for their makers. In my experience, you’ve got about an eight out of ten chance to end up chained to some petty, overdramatic asshole who wants to lord it up over you for all of eternity. The other two out of ten will be lucky enough to end up with someone who actually cares about you, who takes you under their wing and teaches you how to thrive in the world of the undead.
That said, I consider myself a very lucky man.
She’d scraped me off the street at the lowest point of my life. In the span of six months my dad died, I was flunking in school, and my girlfriend Ava broke things off with me because in my grief I’d been cheating on her with her sister. How’d she find out? Well, the two of them had a big blow-up and in the heat of the moment, Olivia told her what we’d been doing behind her back. I came home to find the locks changed and my stuff outside.
My family wasn’t about to help because this was far from my first fuck-up in life, so I decided it was best to just start fresh somewhere else. Just drop out of college, take my stuff and whatever money I had, get on a bus to the next town over and start anew. All I wanted to do was be free of all the mistakes I had, and hopefully not screw up this time.
I figured it wouldn’t be so bad; I’d stay in a cheap motel until I could manage to find somewhere to rent, with or without a roommate. Get some sort of shit job, enough for me to keep a roof over my head, and stay there until I could find something better. Build myself back up little by little. I had a goal of getting myself back in gear over a period of five years, and maybe then I’d get back in touch with my family. Five years to not be a fuck-up. Five years to make something of myself.
It didn’t go as planned.
Finding a job was a slog, because nobody likes it when you have no real references, no contacts, no one in town that you know or can vouch for you. I mean, I get it, no one wants to hire someone that might or might not rob them blind. It was still disheartening to get turned away each and every time, and even more so to watch my bank account just dwindling away. The last thing I wanted was to have to go and throw myself at the mercy of my family, begging them to take me back before I ended up on the street.
I was out one night, down to my last couple hundred dollars and wondering if I was going to have to resort to living in a shelter when I heard a voice.
‘Is that what you really want in life?’
You know when someone’s speaking you can hear where their voice is coming from, right? You know if they’re in front of you, behind you, off to the side or wherever. This voice didn’t seem to come from anywhere in particular. Boom, just there, as if the speaker were herself — since it was a woman’s voice — was inside my head with me.
“Hearing voices now. Man, just when things couldn’t get any better for me, now I’m going nuts.”
“…Or perhaps you could just look over here?”
A light tap on my shoulder and there she was, dressed to the nines in a black brocade dress and corset, white-blonde hair tumbling in loose waves around her face. Bear in mind that this was 1982? 1983? The goth subculture was a thing, but there weren’t really all that many of them in my neck of the woods. Even when they were, they were more Robert Smith or Siouxsie Sioux and less Bride of Dracula, if you know what I mean.
Me being me, I decided to break the ice with a smartass comment.
“Little early for Halloween, don’t you think?”
She smiled, showing off a set of fangs. They looked a whole lot more convincing than the plastic ones you’d get at costume stores, more like movie-quality stuff. Of course I didn’t think they were real just then, not for a second. No such thing as vampires, everyone knew that. This was just some lady with a lot of money and an unhealthy love of Bram Stoker.
“Nice teeth. They almost look real.”
She laughed too, and I thought it was because I was funny. Knowing what I do now, I’m lucky that Marie wasn’t the kind of vampire who would have shown me how real her fangs were. If she was, I doubt I’d be here to tell this story right now.
“And what if they are?”
Of course I thought she was just playing into the whole ‘Oooooh, I’m a vampire!’ thing, so I just kept going. If this lady wanted to play at being a vampire, whatever. It was a welcome break from the absolute shitshow that was my life right then, so I started laughing as well. “If those are real, then I’m a goddamn unicorn.”
Word to the wise: never tempt a vampire. They’ll decide to prove how real they are to you in spectacular fashion. Maybe they’ll turn into a bat or mist, or walk on the ceiling, or just be a real dick and use you as a juicebox. Or they’ll grab you and take off at inhuman speed, and the next thing you know you’re standing on the side of an apartment building around four floors up. I can do that myself now, but right then it was the scariest shit in my life. There was the sky above me and the pavement below, and we’re standing on the side of the building like it’s flat ground. Goes without saying that you’re not supposed to be able to do that.
I gawped at her like a fish, and she just smiled back at me, having put my dumb ass well and truly in its place.
“Where’s your horn, Amalthea?”
“…Holy shit.”
Not the most eloquent response, but please remember that I was standing sideways halfway up an apartment building with nothing keeping me there except the vampire holding on to me. I’m surprised I could manage that much. I stuttered something about wanting to go back down, sounding like a complete idiot in the process. My soon-to-be-sire was gracious enough to not just let me go splat, but instead walk me back down like it was the most normal thing in the world to do.
“Is that better?”
Rather than say anything and continue to sound stupid, I just nodded. Marie took advantage of my silence and continued to talk. “To tell the truth, I feel bad for you. You’ve already given up on life,” she’d said. “You’ve got no plans. No purpose. You’ve resigned yourself to a miserable existence because you don’t think there’s anything else for you. You think nobody wants you. Nobody cares about you.”
“And what if I’m right?” It came out a little more acidic than I really intended, but I was still shaken from being whisked up a building and now this woman — this vampire — was laying my own feelings bare to me. It was one thing to hear it in my own head; I could always try to ignore my thoughts. Drown them out. Convince myself I was wrong. It was entirely another to hear someone else saying those things to me, even if she wasn’t doing it in an accusatory way.
If my hostility bothered Marie, she didn’t show it. “Maybe you are, and maybe you’re not. If you ask me, you’ve given up too soon though.”
“So what do you propose I do about it?” I asked. “Keep trying to eke out a miserable existence, hoping that somehow things will get better if I do? Maybe go crawling back to my family because I can’t?”
She shook her head. “No. I propose something far different. I’m offering you the chance at eternity. The human world has little to offer you, but ours? That’s a different story,” she said. “So what will it be? Yes or no?”
I’d already hit rock-bottom. Being taken under the wing of a vampire could only be an improvement, and if it turned out all she really wanted was my blood, well. Guess I deserved it.
“Will it hurt?” I asked.
“Only for a moment.”
She pulled me close, running her fingers through my hair. There was no breath, but I could feel her cold lips on my skin, the gentlest prick of her fangs before they sank into my throat.
That night I left the human world behind and never looked back.
That night, I became a vampire.
Life with Marie was an experience. My family wasn’t rich, and our idea of fancy was going to a pricy restaurant for Thanksgiving or Christmas. We really couldn’t afford to splurge more than that. With Marie, everything was extravagant. She had discerning taste when it came to blood, approaching it like someone else might fine wine or food. According to her there were a variety of factors that affected the taste and consistency of the blood, not the least of which was their diet and general health.
I remember one time she grimaced after biting into a man’s throat, dropping his semi-conscious body like a sack of potatoes.
“Far too salty and greasy. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was living on bacon and butter alone.”
Before you ask, he didn’t die. He was still alive, moaning in a stupor on the floor. She hadn’t taken enough blood to really do any damage, but I’m sure he had a nasty bruise and a sore shoulder from where she let him fall. The bite wounds were subsequently closed up, and we went on our way to hunt for more suitable fare.
She also wasn’t fond of smokers, saying their habit added a nasty, dirty quality to the blood she couldn’t stomach. Blood that was on the sweeter side was appreciated, but not too sweet or else it was disgusting. She was looking for just the right balance of sweet and savory, and whenever she found it she took her time enjoying it.
My unlife was a blur of galas, soirées, and other gatherings around the city. I wasn’t even aware that there were so many high-end nightclubs around, but at this point I’ve been in every one of them. Hell, I’d probably been in every one of them within my first three months as a vampire. I rubbed elbows with all kinds of people both alive and undead, making all sorts of connections that serve me well to this day.
When we weren’t out partying, Marie was teaching me about undead society. About how vampires interacted with each other, that most of the old ones were pricks clinging to titles and glory long-past, and that the young feared getting on their bad side. Vampires have long memories, and even the littlest slight can become a grudge that festers for decades.
Thankfully there was a pocket of the undead that were neither pompous elders nor fawning neophytes. Most of them were friends of Marie’s, and in time they became friends of mine as well. Seemed like my life was finally getting on-track. While my family was out of the picture, I had friends, a new job, and a bright future ahead of me.
But while I was on the rise, Marie had quietly begun to fade.
The first sign that something was wrong was when she stopped caring so much about who she fed on. Rather than making a game of hunting as we used to do, she’d grab the first person she saw.
We went to fewer and fewer parties, with Marie waving off the idea if I suggested it. Places that she’d loved became dull all of a sudden, or she didn’t feel like getting dressed up to go anywhere that night. Even when we did, she spent less time toying with her prey, and with none of the mental back-and-forth we used to have. No more speculating about which ones looked like they tasted the best or would be the most fun to subdue.
I know it’s a funny thing to say coming from one of us, but she seemed empty. Soulless. Dead. One night, I decided to finally broach the topic with her. Right after I woke up I marched into the living room, knowing that’s where I’d find her. Sure enough she was there, reading something. I stood in front of her, waiting to be acknowledged.
“You want to tell me what’s wrong?”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Luke. Everything’s fine.”
I’ve never been the type to let go of an idea once I’ve gotten it into my head. Sometimes it gets me into trouble, like packing up and leaving home with only half an idea of what to do, but others it’s worked in my favor. I was going to find out what was wrong with her, and I was going to do whatever I could to fix it.
“Yeah, no. Sorry Marie, but that’s bullshit and you know it. If you tell me what’s going on, maybe I can help.”
“There’s nothing you can do. Nothing anyone can do.”
When she finally lifted her gaze from the book, it took me aback. For the first time in the many years I’d known Marie, she looked tired to me. Worn out. It really wasn’t the sort of thing you expected from an immortal predator.
“Immortality seems like a wonderful idea at first,” she’d said. “On the surface there’s no downsides to it. You remain young and beautiful forever. Stronger than any human could ever hope, and with powers beyond your wildest dreams. In return, all you need to do is drink a little blood every now and then and stay out of the sun. Not a bad deal.”
No arguments there. Being a vampire was — still is, as far as I’m concerned — great. I don’t have to worry about withering into a wrinkled, pot-bellied old man with a stupid-looking ring of hair. I don’t have to worry about my eyesight going, or my hearing. I’ll never be some drooling idiot wasting away in a nursing home, forgotten by my family and having my ass wiped by an indifferent stranger.
“But then, the reality of it sets in. It might take five years, or fifty, or maybe even five hundred or more, but it will hit you. We might pretend we’re superior to humans but at our core that’s what we still are, and that’s what we will always be. And humans were never meant to live this long.”
I felt like there was a rock in my stomach. “Marie, don’t tell me this is going where I think it’s going.”
“I’m sorry Luke. I’ve chosen to go into the sun.”
I don’t think I need to explain what that means for one of us. I begged. I pleaded with her to reconsider, but Marie was resolute. She had made her decision. Her time on this earth was over, no matter what I might say. The next few nights would be spent getting her affairs in order, and that would be it. In five days time, she would no longer exist in this world.
The night before she immolated herself I sat beside her, not wanting her to be alone.
“You think it’ll hurt?” I asked. I didn’t want her to be in pain. She’d always been good to me, and the idea of her screaming and thrashing around on fire wasn’t something I was on board with. It wasn’t how I wanted to remember the woman who’d picked me up out of the gutter and given me a home, who’d been kinder to me than my own family ever had.
Marie smiled sadly, giving my a shoulder a squeeze. Funny, huh? She was the one getting ready to die, and there she was comforting me.
“Only for a moment.”
When the sun’s rays began to peek over the horizon she shooed me back inside. Much as I wanted to stay with her, my primal fear of the morning star took over and I scurried back inside. In that moment all that mattered was getting away from its light before it reduced me to the stuff you find at the bottom of a barbecue grill. I still watched from the window, waiting.
It really was quick. From where I stood I could see embers beginning to float away and little wisps of smoke. A moment later she caught fire, as if she were made of paper and dry kindling rather than flesh and blood. Had to turn my eyes away, both because it was as bright as it was and because I didn’t want to actually watch her die. Probably my own imagination, but I swore I could feel the heat of the flames clear through the glass.
And then she was gone. The heat and the flames died down, and all there was left of her were ashes.
I couldn’t even go and gather them up myself; had to get one of her servants to go out and do it for me. I felt bad waking the girl up at the crack of dawn, but I didn’t want to wait. A lot can happen in an hour or two, and for all I knew Marie’s remains might have been blown away by the wind.
Thinking about it, she would have liked that.
She left me everything. The house, all her assets, everything she had. Luanna, the maid I woke up to go get Marie’s ashes, was waiting for me with a sealed envelope that evening.
“She wanted me to give this to you. Read it when you feel that you’re ready.”
It took me five days before I finally opened up that envelope. I felt like opening it would mean that Marie was really, truly gone and I wasn’t ready to deal with that. Silly, I know. Not the sun burning her to ashes, but reading her last letter would make her really and truly gone to me. Finally I decided to rip off the Band-Aid and read my friend’s final words to me.
‘Dearest Luke,
I want to make it clear again that none of this is your fault. I’m just old. Tired. Six hundred years is a long time to live, and I’ve grown weary of it all. It happens. When you think about it, it’s actually a sign of success in this world of ours. I didn’t die by the machinations of another, nor to a hunter’s blade or a werewolf’s fangs. I will die, but I die on my own terms.
Let me say that I enjoyed my time with you. I haven’t laughed as much as I did with you in ages. You breathed some new life into this old lady, and for a while I felt like I was willing to go on, to continue in this cursed half-life for a while longer. Sadly, all I was doing was putting a Band-Aid on a stab wound. It wasn’t enough to stop the bleeding.
You are not ‘a fuck-up’. I want you to stop calling yourself that. Have you made mistakes in life? Yes, yes you have, but can you really think of anyone who hasn’t? No one is perfect, not even our kind. Many of them will tell you so, but it’s not true. As I said to you not so long ago, we’re all still human at our core, and humans make mistakes. The point is that you learned from them.
Everything I own is yours now. I made sure it was all in your name not long after I turned you. I apologize for not saying anything sooner, but I thought you might realize something was amiss. You are remarkably perceptive, even if you think you aren’t.
Above all, I want you to be happy.
Love always,
Marie Beauséjour’
I sat there looking at that letter for a long time. Didn’t even realize I was crying until I saw the first spatter of blood across the paper. It’s tucked away in my desk now for safe-keeping, neatly folded up and back in its envelope.
I’ve been thinking about her words a lot lately. How we’re still essentially human at heart, even though we try not to be. Look at how we try to spend our endless time; parties, travel, finding new and interesting hobbies, taking in a ‘pet’ or a ‘child’ to raise. Sometimes an actual pet or child, no quotations needed. Think about how needlessly cruel we can be, maybe even more so now. It’s easy to be horrible when you think you’re superior to everyone around you.
No matter what we do, no matter how long we live, in the end there’s always the sun. Our bane, our enemy, our worst fear. In the end, our final agonizing comfort.
All apologies to Nirvana for the title of this story.
That was interesting. I've never given any thought as to whether Vampires can get depressed and have mental health problems or if they want to die.