Exsanguination Page 4

  “I have to ask. Didn’t anyone take notice of people being drained of blood?”

  “Oh, it was common knowledge. Phillip, I was a deity. To be a slave, selected by me for vampiric attention was, at the time, considered to be the highest of honours. They gave their blood, and their lives, with joy and, think about it, there are a lot worse ways to go.”

  “Slaves. You had slaves?”

  Vanessa laughed softly. “Is that a rhetorical question? Did the de facto ruler of Egypt have slaves?”

  Phillip pursed his lips. “Sorry. The concept of slavery is kind of alien to me and to be speaking with someone who owned some is just weird.

  “Some? Thousands, Phillip. I owned thousands of slaves.”

  “And it didn’t bother you?”

  “Why would it bother me? It was completely natural at the time, especially for someone in my position. Your naiveté is showing, darling.”

  He nodded. “Different time . . .”

  Vanessa sighed. “And look how far I’ve fallen,” she spread her arms. “From being worshipped as a Goddess to being the Countess of Ashburn.”

  “Is it that bad, really?”

  She smiled and gave him an affectionate look. “No, I don’t suppose it is. I’m comfortable.”

  “So, Egypt, and Rome aside, you made it to England?”

  “Well, while I finally moved to Britain, I’ve also lived just about everywhere else. Paris, Milan, Madrid – all the major cities in Europe and spent a long period of time in the Far East.”

  “And what if it’s a big guy who wants to pound you into the ground when you try to feed?” he shook, startled when she disappeared and then he felt her hands on his shoulders, massaging them as she stood behind him.

  “I tend to move rather quickly when the need arises and I’m quite strong. You’ve probably noticed both.”

  “That is amazing. I didn’t even see it happen!”

  From behind, she bent and kissed the top of his head. “Exactly.”

  “You know,” he said as she sat back down, moving at a normal speed, “you could tell me your life’s story. I could write and publish it!”

  She laughed. “No one would believe a word of it.”

  “Of course not but it might seem like a good work of fiction. If it sold well enough, you could definitely stop the tours.”

  Vanessa frowned a moment. “We could try, I suppose. Do you think you could finish it in a week?”

  “Oh . . . yeah,” he said sadly, “I forgot about that little detail.”

  “Do you not want to leave?”

  Phillip shook his head quickly. “The truth is that I definitely don’t. You scare the crap out of me but I don’t want to leave.”

  “Then stay. Stay with me, Phillip,” she tilted her head to the side and smiled softly. “We can enjoy each other.”

  III

  As morning came around, they retired to Vanessa’s bedroom. When he saw the bed, his jaw dropped.

  “God!”

  “Yes, I know,” she held up her hands as she sighed. “It’s a gothic monstrosity.”

  The black, four poster canopy bed was massive in its construction. It was obviously hand carved, displaying gargoyles, imps, and a variety of other dark creatures.

  “My husband, the now dead earl, had it made. For some reason, he thought it suited me and that I would love it. I didn’t but I’ve grown accustomed to it,” she shrugged.

  They slept curled up with each other, her relatively cool body absorbing heat from his. Phillip wanted so badly to make love to her but she’d drawn the line at that. Her denial did little more than increase the intensity of his desire, but he went with it. She was still sleeping as he awoke in the early evening and the fire was still bright enough to make out her features. He stared at her for some time, thinking about his situation and what to make of it. An Egyptian Queen, she was beautiful, fascinating, even supernatural. He frowned. In addition, she was, no doubt, dangerous. Could this whole thing possibly be true?

  Without opening her eyes, she smiled and purred. “Good evening.”

  “Is seeing through your eyelids one of your superpowers?” he chuckled.

  “I could feel your eyes on me and your heart was picking up speed,” she responded.

  “Sorry, I can’t help it. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around this whole thing.”

  “Well, at least you don’t seem too worried about the possibility of my draining you.”

  “It’s still rumbling around in the back of my mind, but no. On the other hand, a few questions came to mind as I drifted off to sleep.”

  “And those would be?”

  “If you’re Egyptian, how is it that you’re so . . .”

  “White?” she chuckled and Phillip nodded.

  “I never said that my parents were Egyptian. They were migrants from what is now central Europe and not particularly dark. My mother birthed me in Memphis and, after five thousand years of avoiding the sun, you get what you see now,” she sat up in bed. “My complexion was very rare and it attracted attention. I began wearing clothing that would hide my colouring, or should I say my lack of colouring as much as possible. It worked for some time but, when I reached about thirty years old, I was brought before the man who passed for king at the time. He apparently felt that he simply must have me for his wife,” she shrugged. “We married.”

  “And?” Phillip made a ‘give me more’ gesture. “I want to know everything about you!”

  Vanessa laughed softly. “Two years later, I gave birth to a son who, ultimately would become the king.”

  “So you can have children? I didn’t think vampires could.”

  “I wasn’t turned until a year later.”

  “So, there were vampires in Egypt back then?” Phillip expressed surprise.

  “Oh, darling,” she smiled, “there have always been vampires.”

  “Wow,” he whispered.

  She nodded. “Once I’d been turned, I formulated a plan. I had a son who would be king and a husband for whom I had no use. The physicians couldn’t figure out why he seemed to get weaker day by day. A couple of weeks later, the poor fellow passed away,” she waved her hand. “It wasn’t painful but I found it quite gratifying.”

  “So, you killed him?” Phillip frowned.

  Vanessa smiled. “And became queen in the process. My son was too young to rule so I became regent, ruling in his stead. I continued to wear clothing that covered me due to my sensitivity to sunlight.”

  Phillip slid out of bed and began dressing. “I could listen to you and your tales for hours and hours,” he smiled.

  She laughed lightly. “Be careful what you ask for.”

  “So you had someone who was already dead buried in your sarcophagus?”

  Vanessa nodded. “That’s the long and short of it. Ultimately, once it came to light many years later that tombs were being looted, I moved quickly to loot my own. “

  “Wow! Where’s your stuff?”

  “In the room next to the one holding my sarcophagus but we can save that for another time. Would you like to go out tonight? Meet some people? It might be fun.”

  “You mean people like you?”

  She nodded. “It’s likely and, by the way, I’ve decided to notify the touring company that Smythe House will no longer be available. I’m feeling the need for privacy,” Vanessa rested her hand on his cheek and smiled at him.

  “Great!” he grinned and then frowned. “You know, I’ve always had this mental image of a vampire being kind of a greasy, black-haired dude from Romania. Thank you for dispelling that vision.”

  She laughed and sat up. “There are a few of those about – younger ones who like playing to the Stoker stereotype but the vast majority you would pass in the street and never realize what they were.”

  “All the female vampires I’ve seen in movies have been beautiful – like you.”

  “Flatterer,” she playfully punched him in the arm.

  He smiled. “But I
’d very much like to go out.”

  Vanessa frowned. “Phillip, you do realize that I’m not human, don’t you?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it in that way. I figured you were a human vampire.”

  She shook her head. “We are a completely different species – there’s no human in me at all. It’s what happens when one is turned.”

  “Wow,” he sighed, his brow furrowed.

  Two hours later, Phillip was wearing another suit and Vanessa was dressed quite glamorously in a form-fitting black sheath dress.

  “You look gorgeous, Countess!” his eyes drank her in.

  “Why, thank you, dear!”

  “There’s something I wondered about though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “All the suits, shirts, shoes and such. Why the collection?”

  “Ah. There was a man living with me for a while. He died rather abruptly.”

  “You didn’t . . . ?” Phillip asked with a frown.

  “No, sweet one, he died four years ago,” she held up a finger, “of natural causes unrelated to blood.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  She laughed. “Don’t be disingenuous. You’re not the least bit sorry.”

  “You caught me. Should we call a cab?”

  She shook her head. “We’ll take the car.”

  “Oh! I didn’t know you had one. I assumed you didn’t when I saw you arrive in the taxi yesterday.”

  They walked down a long hallway, the door from which opened into a garage.

  “I wouldn’t dare park my car in some of the areas in London that I frequent but I’m seriously considering trading it in for something that might be a bit more practical.”

  The light came on in the garage.

  “Holy shit!” Phillip exclaimed. It was a bright red Porsche nine eleven Turbo S Cabriolet!”

  “You can thank the trust, dear,” she smiled.

  “And, of course, in blood red.”

  She laughed and cocked her head. “Is there another colour?”

  “Can I drive?”

  “Are you mad? Absolutely not!” she stared at him in horror. “You’d create havoc, trying to drive on the wrong side of the road and god knows what else. Besides, London traffic is a nightmare. We’d come to rest upside down in the middle of a roundabout.”

  He sighed. “You’re probably right – maybe someday.”

  “Someday?” her eyebrows went up as she smiled. “Does that mean you’ve decided to stay on?”

  He looked at her hopefully. He knew that something like this would never come along again. If he said no, it would be back to his humdrum life and just thoughts of what might have been. “If the offer is still open.”

  “It is and I’m delighted with your decision!”

  Phillip’s stomach twisted as she nailed the turbo coming out of the garage, throwing gravel everywhere and fishtailing madly.

  “Christ!” he exclaimed.

  She looked sideways at him with a wide grin. “It’s quite peppy.”

  He found himself hanging on for dear life as she wound her way through the city. Finally, they pulled into the entrance of a parking lot and got out. An attendant approached.

  “Good evening, Countess!” he greeted her with a wide grin.

  “Take care of my baby, Julio,” she returned his smile as she tossed him the keys and he climbed into the driver’s seat.

  “So, it seems people know you.”

  “Quite a few. I’m a regular in certain areas of town,” she gestured down the block. “There’s our destination.”

  Phillip began to walk.

  “Wait,” she said softly and opened her purse. Taking out a small golden pendant that hung on a chain, she clasped it around his neck. He took it in his fingers and looked at it. His brow furrowed. “This is the same sign as the one on the front of your sarcophagus.”

  Vanessa nodded.

  “Well, at least it’s not silver. If I remember, vampires and silver don’t get along well.”

  “That’s werewolves, darling.”

  “Oh,” he nodded, “and to what do I owe this prestigious award?”

  “It is the sigil of Neith – my sigil. All vampires know it is associated with me. It will keep you safe from possible predators. If we come across another of my kind and he or she gets a whiff of you . . . well, let’s just say the temptation might be hard to bear.”

  He laughed softly. “I have never been so much in demand!”

  “Have a care,” she tapped his chest and smiled, “it can be dangerous,” she hesitated. “Oh, and don’t take offence if someone refers to you as my human.”

  “Ah, that’s right – you’re a different species. Vampire superiority complex much?”

  “We all feel that way for the most part. When you’re turned, there are, of course, the physical changes that occur but there are also a lot of other things that happen in your mind. Viewpoints . . . attitudes – things like that change fairly quickly.”

  “So you see me as a . . .”

  Vanessa quickly held up her hand.

  “Phillip, while I see the bulk of humanity as food, I see you as a person . . . an individual. I don’t consider superiority or inferiority when I look at you,” she shook her head. “I won’t do that.”

  They stopped at the end of the block and he looked up at the sign over the doors to the club. From inside, he could hear gothic industrial kind of trance music.

  “The Broken Fang? Are they serious?” he laughed.

  “Not my doing,” she laughed as they entered. It was crowded and the dance floor was full. Part way in, she smiled at him. “Be a dear and get me a cabernet and something for yourself. I want to see who’s here.”

  He looked around and felt uneasy. Phillip had never been in this sort of environment but was sure it would have been referred to as a ‘Goth’ club. Every third person sported what he was pretty sure were phoney vampire fangs and there were enough piercings to create a full set of free weights. Makeup was dark and heavily applied. He took a deep breath and stepped up to the bar.

  “A cabernet and a black Russian, please.”

  “Cabernet and black Russian it is,” the bartender repeated back and began pouring and mixing. As the man placed the drinks on the bar, Phillip’s stomach sank when he reached in his pocket and realized he hadn’t a cent on him. His wallet and credit card were left at the house.

  “I . . . seem to . . .”

  “No worries, sir,” he glanced at the medallion resting on his chest, “It’s taken care of.”

  Phillip breathed a sigh of relief and then heard a voice at his side.

  “Well, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of seeing you here before,” the man’s French accent was thick.

  Phillip turned to him and the Frenchman saw the sigil that hung on his chest. “Damn that woman!” he lifted his chin and yelled: “Countess!”

  “Right here, dear.” Vanessa chuckled from behind the man.

  He looked at her in mock irritation and anger. “Why? Why do you always find the beauties before I do?”

  She laughed. “I just have a talent for such things, Antoine.”

  The man sighed and they kissed each other on the cheeks.

  He glanced at Phillip and then turned to Vanessa. “How does he taste?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Like distilled heaven.”

  “Hey!” Phillip protested, feeling a bit like a piece of liver being discussed.

  “I’m sorry, darling,” she took his arm. “Antoine and I have been friends for . . .” she looked at him.

  “A little over two thousand years.”

  “It’s been that long since I’ve turned you? Time flies. Antoine, this is Phillip. Phillip – Antoine. Phillip lives with me.”

  Phillip decided that Antoine was one of those overly flamboyant Frenchmen.

  “You do not know, Phillip, how many men would die to be in your shoes – in this woman’s arms. I mean that literally. They would give their live
s!”

  “I believe it,” he smiled.

  A young woman walked up to them and took Antoine’s arm. “Drink me, Antoine, please?”

  He shrugged her off in disgust. “You are full of drugs and drink. Go away!” he responded sharply with a severe frown.

  “Vanessa,” Phillip looked at her, “you said something about werewolves earlier. You’re not going to tell me they exist, are you?”

  “Yes, darling, but they usually stay out in the countryside, much to the relief of city dwellers and the dismay of sheep farmers.”

  “It is so,” Antoine interjected. “You see, I am a vampire, the Countess is a vampire . . . you? Not yet,” he shook his head. “No one notices us but . . . someone comes in, walking on four legs and covered with fur, fleas, and jaws full of big teeth, well that’s a different kettle of crabs.”

  “Fish, Antoine, fish” Vanessa chuckled.

  “Oui, fish!” he glanced toward the door as a clean-shaven young man entered.

  “Ah, excusez moi, I think my dinner has just arrived,” he took both Vanessa’s and Phillip’s hands. “We must get together soon, no?”

  “Bon appetite,” Vanessa smiled and took a sip of her wine.

  “So, is it just you and Antoine representing the vampire set tonight?” Phillip asked.

  She shook her head. There are about twenty of us here. Rather dull. Quite frankly, I’d rather be home,” she smiled and lightly stroked the side of his neck with the back of a forefinger.

  Phillip grinned. “You’ll get no argument from me!”

  “You’ve no idea what your proximity does to me. Have you ever been hungry and had the aroma of prime rib waft under your nose?”

  “God, I suddenly feel incredibly objectified!” he said jokingly.

  She smiled at him and shrugged. “I can’t help it. It’s my nature. It’s what I am.”

  They exited the club and started down the street toward the parking lot some two blocks away. Halfway to the next cross-street, a voice came from behind them.

  “Hey, freaks!”

  The black Russians on his empty stomach prompted Phillip’s response.