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Coming soon: The old

C

ChrisGibson

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As Chris walked down the street, his thoughts turned not to the cries for help, or to the hearts pounding with evil, but to the cries for mercy. The cries for mercy were the best. These were the cries where he could hear everything better, the singing of the crickets, the last twitters of night birds. He turned to the El and rode out to Howard, and then from Howard he took the Purple train and got off, making his way almost lightly to the hospital. He felt solemn as he entered, but also light because now he had no questions about what he was doing, what was about to happen.. He made his way to the seventh floor and it seemed at this time of night so dark, so forlorn, like company was just the thing anyone here would desire.
He came to the room she was sharing with a woman who was already sleeping, and Chris saw that a re run of Wheel of Fortune was on. How boring, and he realized he was bored with her boredom. The old woman was watching him. She smiled as he entered, her face a net of laughing wrinkles.
“There’s a chair for you right there,” she told him. “We might as well let Vanna finish.”
Chris nodded.
“You’re right,” he said.
He was getting his chair when he said, “Do you want anything?”
“Water?” she said. “Some cold water. I don’t need ice. There’s some in that refrigerator.”
Chris went to the fridge and took out a bottled water, and he poured it into the cup with the straw, and so the two of them sat there, the old woman in the bed, and he beside her, feeding her from the straw as they watched the letters turn and Chris guessed:
“Maid in Manhattan,” and as the woman laughed, he said, “I really hated that movie.”
When Wheel of Fortune was off, Chris said, “Do you want to see Jeopardy?”
“No, love, it’s time.”
“Oh,” Chris said, politely, “Of course.
“Will anyone see?” she asked. “You won’t get in trouble.”
“No,” Chris said. “Bless you, no.”
“I’m so glad you finally came for me. You heard me calling, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“It’s funny,” she said, as she sat up and Chris moved her into his arms—how very light she was! “I had almost stopped believing in God before you walked into this room like his angel.”
Suddenly Chris’s eyes were wet, and he had to blink to see clearly.
“You know,” his voice almost trembled, “until you called I had almost stopped believing too.”
He cradled her and she said, “It will be gentle, won’t it?”
“Oh, yes,” Chris said, his voice trembling, and a tear rolling down his face. “Yes. Just like… sleeping.”
She stroked the back os his neck like a sleepy child and said, “You know the song. You know it.”
His voice unsteady, Chris sang.

“Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling—
Calling for you and for me;
Patiently Jesus is waiting and watching—
Watching for you and for me!”

“Ah, she whispered, “That’s it. That’s it.”
Together they sang:

“Come home! come home!
Ye who are weary, come home!
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,
Calling, O sinner, come home!”

As she slept in his arms, her heartbeat weak, but too strong to die of its own accord, her body full of morphine and pain, but now full of peace, Chris sang on to her:

“Why should we tarry when Jesus is pleading—
Pleading for you and for me?
Why should we linger and heed not His mercies—
Mercies for you and for me?”

The life was released from her as his teeth sank into her skin, as he drained her with sharp teeth, transparent, slender, painless, and sweet blood, the blood of a sweet life, of a good soul, the blood of a spirit that wanted to be released filled him with a terrible unbearable light. It wasn’t like good food. It was like… being with Lewis, or being with his first love, the first time someone held his face in their hands and told him they loved him completely and it was too much. He wanted to weep for the total acceptance and the total communion, and when he was done he wanted to weep for the total knowledge that in this room, holding Cora’s dead body, he was, after such a graceful communion, completely alone.
 
It was out of the corner of his eye he saw a woman, and when he began following her, this creature with white skin and pale hair like Chris’s, Lewis realized that there was no reason he should be following her. She was not the only woman out at this tme of morning, and he had no right to follow anyone. Even as he was wondering why he saw her so clearly, honed in on her so certainly, he thought, “Is this part of the power Chris gave me?” He thought, “is she a killer, and what am I going to do? I’m no blood drinker.”
But in the Craft while one thought he controlled his power, in the end he had to simply learn to follow it, and so he followed where led, traipsing after this woman and now they were both headed for the park, and now she was on a bench with a man. And she was talking to him, whispering to him. He shuddered for a moment, and then she kissed his throat, and Lewis did not stop watching the intimacy as she kissed him, and then sucked on his ear and then drew his face to hers, and he was kissing her, he was nuzzling her thaot, and then she was nuzzling his, sucking on his throat intensely, and as Lewis looked on, comprehending, suddenly the man fell over on his side, dead.
The woman sat there for a while and then she rose and turned around.
“Seen enough?” she said.
And because she was looking directly at Lewis as the sky behind her was just being touched by the morning sun, and the change in the air that comes with dawn moved the grass, Lewis came closer and said, “More than enough, for I’m sure than man never did you any harm.”
“And I’m sure I did you no harm, so I’m not entirely sure why you were following me. I knew you were,” she said, and Lewis thought she was exquisite. Her face was salt white, and now she wiped the deep red of blood from lips which still remained red. Her eyes were deep grey.
“I don’t really know why, either.”
“I begin to know,” she said. “You have the blood of my kin. Some of it is in you. That must be it.” She did not seem coy or proud of herself for knowing it. She adjusted the purse on her shoulder. “Yes,” she said. “Yes I see it, though not all of it. I would have ot share your mind, or enter it, and you would not let me do that. You have no fear of me. It is as certain you are of the Aos Si as I am a blood drinker.”
Lewis was not going to ask her what the word she had used for him meant. He would not satisfy this woman with that, and while they spoke he was aware that a man no more than thirty lay dead on his side in the park bench. Chris had said that he and Lawrence belonged to a house with certain rules about killing, and he had insinuated that not all vampires shared those rules. Well, clearly, here was one such.
“Would you pass on a message?” the woman said. “For me?”
“If I can.”
“Oh, you can,” she said. “Tell, Chris, and especially tell Lawrence, that Evangeline says hello.”
“That’s all?” Lewis asked.
“My Lord Aos Si, I assure you it is enough.”
And then she did not fly, and she did not run. She simply moved away from sight, and as quickly as Evangeline had been there, she was gone, and in the cool morning there was only Lewis, and the dead man lying on the park bench with his mouth open.

THE OLD
 
“DOES ANYONE KNOW?” Chris wondered.
“Not really,” said Lewis. “I told a few. Only my closest friends. Erika, yes. But the funny thing is it seems to have no effect, or either they don’t understand.”
“Or don’t want to.”
“I think in the end they just think it’s like being a teenaged Wiccan, or a pagan, or hugging trees. There isn’t really much of a way of explaining it. Unless you see it. And you can’t really show it. I’ve only brought it up once. Maybe twice, but it’s the funniest thing, and not really something to complain about,” Lewis said, almost losing his cigarette as they sat in on the floor in the living room in rumpled clothes, “the longer I am what I am the more there is a difference between myself and other people, between what I’m seeing and what they see, between even what I care about and what they care about.”
“The books and the TV shows are all wrong,” Chris said. “You know, where the mortal sees the magic and freaks out, and then the witch or the wizard waves a wand and makes them forget. That’s not the way it works. People only want to see so much. People are nearly incapable of comprehending what they don’t want to, and their minds are dull. Magic and wonder slide off people’s brains. That’s why you can be utterly honest with your friends and everything slides away from them. If they are not, and this is sort of an awful word, magical, they won’t comprehend it. In fact, in this day and age they’ll be too stupid to understand it, or most things. It will slide off their brains like water going down a rubber ball. There is no enchantment necessary.”
“Yes,” Lewis said. “Yes, that’s right.”
“She’s a nice girl, your Erika,” Chris said. “Truly kind. Kinder than most and in her own way more open than most. But…she’s limited. There is a gulf between what we are and what she is.”
“What we are?”
“Creatures of the borderworld, of the otherworld. And we both crossed into it at one point in time, and having crossed into it, can never really cross back. That’s why we understood each other. That’s why you knew what I was and, in some way, I knew what you were. But we weren’t afraid. Not really. Something told me to get up last night and go searching, and it wasn’t the blood hunger. It was a different sort. It was… Well,” Chris smiled a little and he caught his cigarette before the long tail of ash fell on the carpet. “It was hope, I suppose. I dark kind of hope.”
“What I don’t understand, still,” Lewis said, “is why… Why no one sees. Sees anything.”
“The episodes of Bewitched, the Harry Potter movies. All the silly things that make people think they know what magic is. The dulling of the senses in every direction. Those without power who speak of it all the time, and eyes turned in the wrong direction. No one pays attention to houngans and the shaman or the nuathals. They all pay attention to the dippy white chick with the black glasses and magenta hair who tells you about her Wiccan coven. And so people’s minds can no longer process what you are. And believe it or not, this is part of the enchantment. I believe your people have a phrase, that the fifth point of the star is—”
“Secrecy.”
“Yes,” Chris said.


THE OLD
 
“I was watching Vampire Diaries last night.”
“What the hell for?” Chris demanded.
“Because they live the way vampires should. They’re good and beautiful and mysterious—”
“Hey! hey!” Chris lifted a finger and took a fry off of Lawrence’s plate, “I’ll have you know I’m plenty mysterious, and what’s more. I think I’m goodlooking. You’re not bad yourself.”
“And they don’t have to have jobs,” Lawrence said wistfully, almost leaning in on the table and putting his chin on his fists.
“Strictly speaking, we don’t either. There’re cemeteries all around town that would be glad to have us.”
“Ick,” Lawrence waved it away, “I went through my coffin phases back in the seventies.
“But have you noticed that?”
“Your coffin phase? Yeah. And the whole black cape and top hat. Stylish but—”
“Shut up,” Lawrence said. “Have you noticed the tv vampire, they always have nice houses, nice cars. Houses with electric, mind you. And no jobs. When in the world did being immortal come with shit tons of money? Do you know how much I would love to not go to work?”
“You love your job, you love your clothes, you love your Rolexes and your fancy cars and you love your hot girls.”
“Damnit, that’s just it!” Lawrence threw his napkin down on the table. Outside, where the the rest of the restaurant was a street café, and students walked up and down Sheridan, Lawrence looked for just a moment and then he said, “I have tried to make myself a sort of sexy guy.”
“As a gay, gay vampire, you’re totally sexy, Laurie. And you always smell good.”
Dark and bold, bold featured, always in good suits, like the dress shirt, white and blue stripped with white cuffs, red tie he wore now.
“The girl I’m seeing, was seeing,” Lawrence murmured, “was trying to see. Do you know what she said last night?”
Chris raised a pale blond eyebrow.
“Last night,” Lawrence leaned in, narrowing his dark eyes, “she said, ‘Please stop, I don’t think I have the emotional dedication to commit to finishing this.”
“This… relationship?” Chris tried.
Lawrence frowned and went red.
“She said it in the middle of… Oh, hell, she said it when I was fucking her. She said it just like that: ‘Please stop, I don’t have the emotional investment to finish this.’”
Chris covered his mouth.
“You think that’s funny? And then she just got dressed, really bored, didn’t even hurry, and left. I scarcely had the condom off.”
“It’s not funny,” Chris said shaking his head, and to his credit, the smile was gone. “It’s really not, and God knows I’ve had some disasters too.”
“You think Lestat ever had someone say please stop having sex with me in the middle of stuff?”
“I think Anne Rice vampires don’t really have sex.”
“Not my point, Chris.It’s just… It’s really I’m older than all of these stupid shows and books, but, when I … back then.. when I was just an ordinary person, I thought I would become something amazing. And so often I feel like I am. I’m the Lawrence who can climb up walls and walk through closed doors, who can drive a Maserati at full throttle, and hypnotize people if I want. Who wears fancy suits and, so I thought, hold womens’ attentions. But… I feel like I’m still that Laurie I always was, when I’m just alone with a person, with a woman. She knew all that I had. The car, the money. We were in my apartment. And that’s one hell of a place. And she still just.. She literally told me I was a boring person. She was bored to tears while we were having sex. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”
“Becoming what we became does not make us proof to the bullshit of humanity,” Chris said. “It just means we go through more and more of it. Forever.”
Lawrence could tell that the tone in the conversation had changed, and Chris was staring out of the window eating fries absently and so he said, “And now you?”
“What?”
“Tell, Dr. Lawrence what’s getting at you?”
“Lewis.”
“Lewis is great. What the hell do you mean?”
“Not Lewis. Me. I mean… I killed in front of him. I killed in front of Lewis the other night.”
Lawrence frowned, his eyes shocked.
“Did you ever do that before?” Chris asked.
“I never trusted anyone enough,” Lawrence said.
“Not even Veronica?”
For a moment Lawrence looked… raw was the only way Chris could describe it, and then he only shook his head. No.
“How did he take it? I mean, he’s not acting different, is he?”
Chris shook his head. “No. But it’s just… I’ve seen him do what he does. I’ve seen witchcraft, Lawrence. I’ve seen him heal sick people, relieve people in pain. I’ve seen him give life. And he watched me kill someone. I showed him that.”
“You showed him something he accepted.”
“And he did accept it,” Chris said. “He… almost encouraged it. He… I keep looking for a part of him that doesn’t accept me, thinking he can’t be alright with me being me. And he was.”
Neither one of them spoke for a while and Lawrence finally said, “Veronica… since you brought her up.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“God, no! Don’t be sorry. She... she loved me. I loved her, and I never thought I’d love anyone. She knew what I was and she loved me. I was very silly around her. A braggart and… you know, the way I can be. And one night we were on the Lake. It was a very different lake then, and I told her everything. I thought she’d run away, or get the whole neighborhood to come and stake me. But instead she just… she just put my face in her hands and kissed me, and then… Well, we didn’t come home that night. And that night, while she was asleep and I was lying next to her, I got terrified. I wanted to run away. I was even thinking about doing it when suddenly her arms went around my waist and she said, Don’t you be doin’ that, Laurie Malone. You know… in that voice of hers. And… I think that’s what you’re feeling. A little. You wish a part of us wishes to be in the shadows. We’re afraid for people to see us as we are, and you wish that Lewis was…”
“Still innocent.”
“He was never innocent. I’ve met him. He is a witch. Witches do not only heal, they kill. They live in the dark and in the light. Part of you wants someone who is so good they would run away from the real you, but what you’ve got is someone who understands you, and if you’re troubled about it, fine, be troubled. But you’ve got to get over that.”

THE OLD
 
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