Demetrius

Chapter 2

The following day...

He got to his feet unsteadily using the kitchen table for support, making his way to the bathroom. After throwing up he raised his head slowly, looking in the mirror. He looked dreadful and pale like he did when he had the flu. Turning his head to look at his neck, he saw the swollen purple puncture wounds.

"They'll heal in a few days," she wrote.

"Finally after all these years I have something from her," he thought in mock appreciation. It hardly mattered if it was a mistake. Surely there was no intention on either of their parts to engage in incest but like the bumper-stickers say:

Shit Happens.

At first he felt guilty about what happened until he realized she wasn't human now. Maybe she was human once but he could tell she wasn't when they were together. He knew he'd have to accept her being vampire, even if his brain told him it was impossible. In spite of his conflict he felt a connection with her, a shared past. It was unthinkable for someone so young to be his mother. At the most she looked no more than eight years older than him. After showering he looked better but still felt weak. Opening the medicine cabinet he wondered if he should use iodine, wondering what a pharmacist might recommend. He put a Band-Aid on his neck deciding not to shave. After dressing he made his way to

Nick's

for something to eat. He was hungry feeling fairly certain he knew the reason why. He didn't know if it was his imagination or not but the sky appeared brighter than usual. No matter what he cursed under his breath, raising a hand to shade his eyes when crossing the street.

"What the hell's the difference in 'turning' someone as opposed to 'feeding' on them," he wondered while sitting in one of the booths.

"Tough night last night," Nancy asked as she poured his coffee.

"You dun no the half of it," he said in broken English.

He had his usual eggs over light, toast, sausage, orange juice and home fries. It was enough to replenish him, he hoped.

After eating he decided to go to the park for some diversion thinking it would take his mind off of things. No doubt there was an element of denial at work as he pretended to ignore what happened. He stopped at the drug store, buying the cheapest and darkest pair of sunglasses they had along with a newspaper. The sunglasses were made out of white spaghetti plastic, one-piece frames. They looked hilarious on him but he didn't care as long as they decreased the brightness of daylight.

Once in the park he sat alone on one of the benches reading the newspaper. Some passed smiling, almost laughing in seeing him. Someone he knew called to him from afar, asking if he got his "shades" in a cereal box.

Something strange happened after he'd been reading awhile. A crow or a raven landed about ten feet away from him. It had something in its beak. It took two steps forward cocking its head, looking at him comically before dropping it and flying off. His curiosity got the better of him when he stood to pick it up. It was a pedal from a red rose. It was strange indeed, not easily overlooked given the circumstances. It was the first of many signs indicating the presence of her in his life once more.

"I will lead the child in you in wonderful ways for I have chosen you."

He thought playing chess would help in taking his mind off things. While doing so a crowd of onlookers formed watching him play one of the better local players. After their game was over everyone left except for a young pale looking woman who continued to stare at him, commanding his attention from afar. He felt uneasy in feeling her frozen stare. In an attempt at breaking the ice he asked if she'd like to play, not knowing what else to do to lessen his apprehension.

Without a sign of emotion she sat opposite him, placing a long-stem red rose on the side of the table. She offered no explanation for it, making him all the more nervous. She wore black sunglasses with wide stems, concealing her eyes from the side. She was well groomed, standing out in a crowd with the purple lipstick she wore and all the other provocative things she had going on. Though she looked ashen she didn't appear sickly, not by any stretch.

He noted her thick industrial-strength ebony fingernails. They looked more like bone or ivory than ordinary fingernails. Perhaps it was understandable that his attention was drawn to her chest and the flawless pale skin leading down to her breasts and their cleavage. Since only the bottom half of her shirt was buttoned, it was hard not to notice. She wiggled out of her backpack as though she wanted to put on a show for him. It was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra. Her unusual dark nipples were rendered almost black in contrast with the white shirt she wore.

They set up their pieces in readiness and when they were about to begin she unexpectedly took hold of his hand, squeezing it gently. He wondered if it was a show of affection or simply her way of shaking hands -- making contact. No matter what it was, it sent chills up his spine when it occurred to him she wasn't there to pass time. But above all else, he sensed she wasn't human.

After an unfamiliar first move he found himself getting in trouble, losing a close endgame. He thought he heard her chuckling but couldn't be sure since it came from deep within her. The sound was melodic and fascinating; unlike anything he ever heard.

Upon leaving she seemed intent on teasing again, wiggling around suggestively as she put her backpack on. He sensed a smile, though it wasn't visible in her face. It was more like she was conveying a feeling of happiness in someway. When he asked about the rose she explained,

"Someone I know told me to give it to you. I guess she loves you passionately as the color suggests."

She walked around to his side of the table, gently but firmly placing a hand on his cheek. Again he found her touch unsettling, cold and alien. Unexpectedly and surprisingly she licked his ear, whispering intimately:

"I'm Alexis. You can find me at

Sangre Maria's

. And in case you're wondering, when I suck I swallow too."

He watched her walk away. Her ass looked magnificent in the blue-jeans she wore. She had one of those rare asses he loved; the kind with a space separating each full-rounded cheek. Though spellbound he continued to watch until she faded from view, blending into the scenery as though she was an apparition. He couldn't help but wonder what she meant when she said she swallowed. Was she referring to blood or semen; he could only guess. No matter, he felt he needed to talk to someone with regards to what was happening; how his life had abruptly been turned inside out. But he didn't know who to turn to. He walked the streets as though in a trance, oblivious and uncaring to the smirks he and his sunglasses were getting. He found himself outside a Catholic Church. For the lack of anything better he decided it was a good time to make a visit. Once inside he noticed they were hearing confessions. He entered a confessional removing his sunglasses, fidgeting with them until he heard the partition slide open:

"I've come to ask something, not to confess sins. I found out my mother's a vampire. I think she wants me to be one too. I never knew her until recently. She gave me a letter explaining some things. Things I didn't accept as truth before now. I'm scared. I feel drawn to her. There is so much I want to know, to ask her."

There was no response. Perhaps the priest was measuring his sincerity. Finally and with deliberation the priest said,

"Have you talked with anyone else on this matter, perhaps a psychiatrist or a family member?"

"No. I have no family here. You're the only one I've talked to. I know it sounds crazy but I have marks on my neck to prove it."

"I understand but this is not a matter we can deal with in the confessional. I can see you in the rectory on Tuesday if you'd like."

He felt more isolated than he had for awhile, thinking he'd have to go it alone. What was the priest going to tell him, his love was misplaced and she didn't deserve it? Even if he was right it was up to him to deal with it, if he could.

"Okay father, thank you," he said standing to leave.

"Do these things in remembrance of me..."

He sat in one of the pews for a long time nervously fidgeting with his sunglasses, wondering what to do. An early mass began. He watched the ritual of communion being carried out, concerned they turned wine into blood and the Eucharist was supposedly the body of Christ. He knew the participants were expected to consume those things in the spirit of adoration and to connect with a loved one. He felt there was something questionable with the idea of achieving closeness through a form of cannibalism. Not surprisingly it occurred to him he might be seeking help in the wrong place, wondering if he should be filing a police report instead.

Leaving the church he dabbed some holy-water on his forehead. It was done more out of habit than anything else. As he stood atop the long staircase leading down to the sidewalk he thought he saw his mother as she paced back and forth. He used the back of his hand to wipe the holy-water from his forehead, feeling it itching presumably in its evaporation. Or was there another reason for the discomfort it caused, he didn't know. After putting his sunglasses on, he felt certain it was her. She was wearing a long raincoat, a black silk scarf clutched firmly in place, reminding him of the pictures he saw of

"Jackie Onasis"

.

Suddenly and unexpectedly she stopped her nervous pacing. It was uncanny how she turned to glare straight at him, as though she knew he was there before actually seeing him. Though he couldn't say with any certainty, it seemed she was scolding him for coming out of a church, of all things. Coldly and with what's best described as disgust, she turned in a huff blending into the flow of pedestrians and out of sight.