Amber fire light flickered in the small grate, casting a dancing pattern on the grubby walls of the cellar-bar known as The Cavern. Wolfgang Feuerleiben turned his bright hazel eyes despondently towards it and shivered; as usual he could not seem to get warm even close as he was. His leather armchair which had once been blood-red was now a dirty brown with age. There was, as usual, an empty but polite circle around him, other patrons of the bar maintaining their customary distance.
Wolfgang beheld the majority of The Cavern’s patrons with barely concealed contempt; he viewed them as naïve, somewhat sad individuals or arrogant, shallow time-wasters. He asked himself, as he did every night, why he came here? It certainly wasn’t for the company, although he occasionally admitted to himself in the dark hours that he was lonely, desperately so. He refused to betray what few principles he retained and take a companion. Wolfgang knew that he of all people deserved to be alone. So many sins, over so very many years.
He had been here, on this particular night, since an hour after sunset and the usual noise of a crowded bar filled the air. Dragging his hazel-eyed gaze from the mesmerizing orange glow of the hearth fire Wolfgang glared around. Anyone who happened to catch his gaze generally looked away rapidly, and Wolfgang preferred it that way. ‘Oderint, dum metuant’ as Caligula had once said. He may have been an insane bastard, Wolfgang thought, but he had been a clever one, and knew how to throw a party.
His acute hearing picked up the thump-thump of the steady rain on the door and barred windows even through the hubbub of the bar. Many nights of tuning out the background noise, or picking up particular conversations in the melee which mattered had left him both cynical and able to focus on a particular sound among many. He sighed; deciding tonight was NOT a good night to be vampire.
The Cavern was the local haunt for his kind, along with various groups of misguided mortals - known as thrill-seekers. Wolfgang had a particular distain for those who thought hanging around with the ‘undesirables’ was cool and great for their street cred. Thus the bar had its usual assortment of regulars and hangers on. A heady mixture of blood, sweat, perfume, alcohol and power filled the air, guaranteed to intoxicate most thrill-seekers and more than a few vampires of the younger lineages.
The dark haired vampire was exceptional, even for his own kind, or ‘companions-in–darkness’ as they euphemistically referred to themselves. Although, as a species, vampires were incredibly curious about the affairs of others they knew little about him and Wolfgang chose to keep it that way. He was ‘an eccentric’ with outspoken views and odd habits. Many of the regulars thought he was dangerous, even psychotic, but were generally too polite to say within his superb hearing. Or possibly too cowardly. Wolfgang knew exactly what they thought but as it suited him, was loathed to change it. Fear was a powerful tool. The vampire rumor mill decided that those who challenged him disappeared and the rumor mill was not always wrong. He was reticent and many believed, arrogant. Recently Wolfgang had been even more reticent than usual. So many nights, so many sins.
Wolfgang twisted in his chair, slightly creasing the immaculate purple silk waistcoat which he habitually wore, with a pair of unnervingly tight leathers and a shirt of silk, usually of dark blue. At a motion from his hand, the barkeeper, Antonio, appeared with another drink - the affectionately termed ‘Bloody Maria’. No one ever asked Antonio where he acquired the blood, and no one cared.
The vampire moved the chair closer still to the fire, one of his many eccentricities. Most vampires feared fire; Wolfgang found it fascinating, soft yet deadly, beautiful yet ephemeral. A knowing smile crossed his face, he knew why the Cavern maintained an open fire, and who paid for it. Not only did his love for fire border on obsession, but also it kept the other vampires away from him, which was an added bonus.
His attention seemingly fixed on the dancing flames the vampire pretended not to notice when the door opened, letting in a blast of damp winter air, laced with the smells of the night. The scent of perfume drifted in, a soft aroma which he recognized, although he could not place why. Even above the smell of a crowded bar, he could sense her, and her apprehension, which dwelt within like darkness. Her smell was soft, warm and…alive. Heart beating fast he could hear it now, beyond the rain and the chatter.
The black lace top and tight jeans she wore covered enough to hint at promise beneath, to be sensual, but providing any measure of warmth now that was another matter. She shivered and glanced towards the fire, catching the inscrutable look of the vampire basking it its glow. Rain glistened on her skin, and picked out the deep plum streaks in her raven-black hair. Wolfgang rarely gave the mortals more than a cursory glance, or if he did it was as a cat sizing up a mouse with whom it wished to play, but this woman held his attention. There was an air about her both of fear and of independence, a resolute but slightly nervous attitude. The contradictions intrigued him.
He smiled at her, a strange occurrence, as she hesitantly glanced around her, asking of him as she warmed herself to healthy pink, which made the vampire like his lips and shift in his seat.
“Do you know Frederick Warner? I am supposed to meet him here,” her voice was nervous, she was out of her depth and knew it.
Wolfgang removed the pocket watch from his waistcoat and scrutinized it for a fraction too long. “He does not usually turn up until at least two o’clock, my dear… if at all. He is not renowned for his punctuality. May I have the honor of buying you a drink while you wait for him?”
He saw her slight blush and a hunger stirred, and a desire. Not to mention the urge to persuade her to dismiss the charming but totally immoral Frederick Warner. He was well aware the best thrill-seeker targets were vulnerable and alienated - the victim syndrome. Perfect for the likes of Frederick, easy prey with a promise of immortality, of never-ending fun, to be used then discarded. Wolfgang was sick of clearing up the dejected remnants of Frederick’s whims; putting the poor creatures out of their misery.
Frederick and his cronies were not merely thoughtless, but more dangerous they were careless. He detested the predatory vampires who used the mortals for their own pleasure. Not because of any moral obligation, he had passed that handicap many centuries ago, but because the mortals asked awkward questions; even vampires were vulnerable, at least during the hours of daylight. At least Wolfgang admitted to himself what he was. Once, long ago he had gazed into the abyss, and now it gazed out through his own hazel eyes. So many nights, so many sins.
Antonio appeared and produced another Bloody Maria and a bottle of expensive German wine. The girl looked around again, somewhat uncertain at the place and the odd and hungry looks she was getting. “Lucie Von Marienburg… er delighted to meet you,” she said, with more confidence than she felt and held out a hand.
Wolfgang, hesitated, gazing at the slim white hand with fascination, and for a fleeting moment intense hunger, before he forced the feeling away. Taking it in his own he kissed it gently, savoring the taste of Lucie’s scent. A memory stirred, a memory long since considered gone.
“Wolfgang Feuerleiben, it appears my evening has just improved dramatically.”
He poured the wine and watched her carefully as she sipped it, trying to ignore the craving pounding behind his temples. He hadn’t felt like this about a thrill-seeker for three hundred years. It was more than just the accursed craving, it was something deeper; a feeling stirred within him, a mixture of lust, hunger and yearning, mixed with an urge to know her, claim her soul for his own. Even the hunger could be pleasurable…very pleasurable. Wolfgang felt uncomfortable, fighting the feelings surging through his body, feelings he had thought suppressed. He shifted slightly, and momentarily tempered the feeling with a large mouthful of his drink. What was it about this woman? She was merely another thrill-seeker.
She seemed out of place, not only because she was alive. Thrill-seekers often frequented the Cavern but Wolfgang sensed this one was different, somehow mor
e … untainted. Her eyes were like coal, but glistened in the light of the fire and she seemed small and pure in this haven of the damned.
Wolfgang knew that the sooner Frederick had an ‘accident’ the better. While his mind was busy planning the downfall of another, preferably slow and painfully, he made polite small talk with his companion, still fighting the unnerving attraction towards her.
As the hours passed Lucie began to yawn, they talked of art, and literature. They debated religion and science, and they laughed. Wolfgang had not laughed with someone for so long, he had forgotten the thrill. The irony amused him, of the Thrill-seeker captivating the vampire.
“I guess I have been stood up… Story of my life! I think I will head home, the wine is going to my head! I am not used to such as late. Thanks for keeping me entertained, Wolfgang.”
She arose and Wolfgang smiled bitterly, knowing he would let he would let her go at the end of their encounter.
“I would not recommend walking home alone, let me accompany you, or at least pay for your taxi.”
Lucie watched him, he seemed charming, if a little aloof and sad. He was attractive with his bright hazel eyes and dark hair. Besides, he was clever and made her feel as though no one else existed. Something about him called to Lucie, something fascinating.
“A taxi would be great, you can come too. For a coffee you understand,” He uncurled from his spot by the fire and helped her into her coat. At this moment the door opened and the tall figure of Frederick Warner entered.
“Well… if it isn’t Feuerleiben muscling in on my prey again. He dragged a thin bony finger down the girl’s pale cheek. Obviously excited by ideas of the fun he would have with this one. He murmured to himself, “Well my little thrill-seeker, how I shall enjoy you!”
“She is not a thrill-seeker, leave her be… don’t you ever have enough?” Wolfgang spoke as he stepped between the newcomer and the girl. “She is not interested in what you have to offer. Touch her again, and I will tell her exactly what you are, and the others too.”
A couple of heads turned, partly in alarm and partly in curiosity, the conversation level dropped and a couple of nearby vampires backed slightly further away. “You wouldn’t dare - too much at stake. We both know it. It is forbidden - you know that. The Council will destroy you. The Thrill-seekers find out soon enough but by then it is too late,” retorted Frederick, but his blue eyes registered apprehension. “Who do you think you are, sitting in front of that fire night after night? Passing judgment on my, our, behavior, thinking you are so far above us? I have heard the stories about you, but they don’t frighten me. You think you are some bloody avenging angel, so much better than the rest of us, telling me how to live my life!” Anger brought with it bravery, or at least bravado. Unseen by the younger vampire, one or two of his companions edged away. They knew death, and this night he stood before them.
Wolfgang gazed back at his rival with a terrifying comprehension of the world mirrored in his hazel eyes, Frederick looked away, unable to meet the gaze of one who knows his own soul and the darkness it holds.
“You have no life - you are dead. I cannot take what does not exist. You are the same as I; a leech, a parasite feeding from innocence and ignorance.” Wolfgang suddenly snapped, his slender frame reacting with lightning speed, throwing his rival into the wall next to the fireplace. “How many Thrill-seekers have you taken over the years - hundreds? The lucky ones die and stay that way, the others become abominations, poor damned creatures. Fated to walk in the eternal darkness, in the half-life we inhabit. Oh yes, it is fun for a few years, then the bloodlust starts…”
Wolfgang sprang towards Frederick like a cobra towards a rat, twisting his fingers into claws, twisting the claws into Frederick’s hair and placing a deathly cold hand on his throat. Frederick managed nastily, although with a venom he did not really feel, “We are not all freaks like you, twisted, some welcome the gift.”
“Ha! Gift! Do you ask them if they wish to die? Do you tell them they will never see a sunrise, taste food or see their families? I cannot remember what it is to see a sunrise, everything becomes grey after a hundred years or so. All the colors of the world, merely degrees of darkness. I know I once enjoyed food, wine, but I cannot remember why, now it is the unceasing craving for blood. I have read all the books I will ever want to read, heard every piece of music, I have watched history repeat itself, stood by as the mortals kill themselves in futile wars over and over, watched empires crumble and guess what, it is boring! For centuries mankind has sought eternal life - believe me it is not worth it. This monster is what we become when we find it. The dead should be buried and mourned, not hiding on the edge, living in a world between life and death to become the nightmares of myth and the horror of reality.”
“Oh I have killed so many times, eventually it begins to mean nothing, no remorse, no guilt, not even any pleasure. I kill only what is already dead or will shortly become so, that is all it has become. Life means nothing, and death even less. Eternity is dull, the world moves on, yet we remain in this state forever, cursed by our passions and beset by ennui. Nothing changes, just pointless games intrigues to pass the time. We play no part in the world of mortals. We are not gods, we do not exist except in hell. Even the thrill of the blood lessens, every sense is dulled and grey. Nothing is exciting, the body aches. I am so cold, always cold. Eventually the mind begins to decay with the futility and boredom.”
He spun around to the others, who were now staring with a mixture of fear, disbelief and the curiosity of the doomed. Frederick fell in a crumpled heap at his feet, too shocked to move at the outburst, blood oozing slowly from his hair. He had looked into Wolfgang’s eyes and seen a terrible despair, a terrible comprehension of the future. So many nights, so many sins.
Wolfgang licked his pale lips, and snarled, “Anyone who wishes to see the sun may leave. Now!” A few Thrill-seekers fled in fear and self-preservation. The vampires stayed, transfixed by the scene, afraid to flee, afraid to fight. Suddenly their quasi-human masks had been torn away, and they saw the monster within. Someone sobbed, another pleaded and one even tried to ask the god who had long-forsaken them for forgiveness. “There is no forgiveness, fool. There is no return, no light of heaven. Just this – for eternity.” Wolfgang’s laugh chilled them, even the fire paled at his rage.
Lucie stared, she suddenly realized this was all true; the stories, the nightmares and the monsters. What had started as a dare, as a date had become something so much more, so much more dangerous. Yet as she glanced at Wolfgang, she remembered how he’d kissed her hand, how kind and clever he had been, how alone. Self-preservation overcame desire and she bolted, yet something deep within made her stop and creep into the shadows of one of the windows. This small, mortal woman was braver than the vampires which cowered within. So she returned, she wanted to see Wolfgang, to ease the sadness. She was afraid, but resolute.
Peeking in, with the curiosity which had first brought her here she watched, unable to draw away her gaze. The tingling apprehension, the lure of danger filled the young woman and she wanted more of it. Never had she felt so alive.
“Coward… you are no more than a freak, Feuerleiben! You are insane!!” Yelled one of the vampires, from behind a table.
Slowly Wolfgang walked to the bar, tossed leather wallet towards the barkeep, and then snatched the bottles behind the bar. Alcohol sprayed across the counter, fumes rising as spirit after spirit was spread around. Watched by the damned and doomed he smiled, stalked to the fire and thrust his hand into its crimson heart and plucked out an ember. Laughing with the same chilling sound as before he dropped the wood onto the alcohol-soaked bar and floor. Suddenly the fire encircled him, dancing before him like a beautiful slave, then ran ever-consuming across the floor. He stepped over the lake of fire, smiling slightly as he saw Antonio snatch up the money, as he had so man
y times before. The door closed behind him and the vampire pulled over a large, sturdy bar, wedging it in place.
As the screams echoed into the night, the vampire turned and headed towards his motorcycle.
“Take me with you,” Lucie breathed, as the glow of fire tinted the wet road orange.
“You do not know what you ask, girl. Go and live your life, leave me here. Forget what you have seen.”
Lucie grabbed his hand, “I know what I am saying! I am not a bloody fool. There is nothing in this city for me. You only live once, isn’t that what they say? Well live then! If I am afraid I will leave. No questions, no regrets. I heard some of what you said, and maybe it doesn’t have to be that way. Humans hope. It is what keeps us alive and sane. I don’t believe all that is gone. It sounds like a cliché, but I feel like I have known you before. If you send me away, I shall find you. If you kill me you will be alone forever, you know that. Take a chance.”
As the building burned at his back Wolfgang looked at the woman, he had not met one with a spirit such as hers for a very long time. Her scent surrounded him in the cold air, and her coal-black eyes held his and for a moment he saw salvation. He lifted her hand to his lips and said, “I do not force you to do anything, come on, we should leave, before the police appear.”
They walked over to the parked motorbike, as the darkness embraced its fallen angels and the fire burned ever brighter.
Copyright 2014 A.L. BUTCHER
Moonlight
The misty moon shines
Her pale iridescence on tears tumbling from the sky,
Rain is falling like shards of glass into a broken heart,
And the wind is in mourning.
Clouds of a darkness so profound
Harbor raindrops so desolate
Even the trees are weeping,
And a sadness infinitely timeless
Echoes in the terrible silence
Bringing time itself to its knees.
©2014 A.L. Butcher
The Indie Collaboration
& Darker Places Present:
ALAN HARDY
I'm a Brit. Director of an English language school for foreign students. Married, with one daughter. Poet and novelist. Poetry pamphlets: Wasted Leaves, 1996; I Went With Her, 2007. Comic, bawdy novel GABRIELLA, and satirical, scabrous novel GOOD QUEEN BETH, both available on Amazon as Kindle eBook. Other novels, similarly disrespectful, surreal and shocking, on their way. Get ready for them.
Alan Hardy is on Goodreads & Amazon
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