Tariq Black Vampire King

"Tariq, I am your death come walking, there's nothing you can do to save yourself from me," Khadija Singh said, a wicked smile on her face. I looked at the tall, curvy and leather-clad South Asian beauty I'd loved so much, once upon a time, and cursed myself for turning her into the monster she's become. The hatred I saw in Khadija's lovely eyes shocked me...

Vampirism isn't meant for everyone, I realize this now. Being undead is truly a transformative experience. In some cases, it can turn perfectly decent people into monsters by unleashing their wildest desires, coupled with the blood thirst common to our kind. Immortality has a way of changing ordinary men and women into the stuff of nightmares, myself included...

"You leave me no choice," I said, pulling out my silver-tipped stake as I rushed Khadija, and we grappled fiercely on the edge of the cliff overlooking Hog's Back Park in a wooded area of metropolitan Ottawa, Ontario. I tried to shove the stake into Khadija's heart, but she batted my hand away, then lashed out at my face with her claws. I recoiled, barely able to prevent her from maiming me.

"I've grown stronger since you made me, Tariq," Khadija hissed, her beautiful face a mask of rage, and she pulled a dagger from her coat pocket, and hurled it at me. I dodged the blade, of course, but in doing so, I found myself dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. Khadija took full advantage of that, and lashed out with her leg, kicking mine out from under me.

"Oh shit," I cried out, and Khadija smiled and hurled me off the cliff, and as I plummeted to my ( possible ) death, I heartily and sincerely regretted taking my ex-girlfriend and turning her into one of the Undead. Let's face it, in this life, we make a lot of mistakes but this one might be my worst...and my life. I fell into the frozen river, three hundred meters below, and blacked out.

Such a fall would have killed any mortal man, but I am not mortal. Indeed, I haven't drawn breath since the summer of 1794. My name is Tariq Zinsou. I was born in the Kingdom of Dahomey, known today as the Republic of Benin in West Africa. My father Amir Zinsou was the leader of the Houngbédji clan. From birth I was actually raised to be a warrior, sworn to fight all of my life in the service of my people.

I was captured by slave traders from a rival clan, sold to the Europeans and transported to the island of Saint Domingue in the heart of the Caribbean. You can't imagine what that was like, being a prince among the people of West Africa and finding yourself in bondage, sold to the white man and forcibly brought to a strange new land, to become a slave on a plantation.

As a six-foot-three, broad-shouldered and dark-skinned African male, I was seen as the ideal field laborer by the cruel whites who'd enslaved so many of my people. Toiling away under the hot sun in that plantation, I dreamed of freedom. I ran away in 1792, to join the band of runaway slaves that were starting to carry out raids on French plantations, freeing their fellow Africans from inhuman bondage, and slaughtering the colonials.

I joined the slave revolt that would eventually lead to the downfall of French colonial rule in the Caribbean and herald the birth of the Haitian nation, the first independent black republic in the New World. I fought beside great men like Toussaint Louverture, Jean Jacques Dessalines and Henri Christophe, leaders of the Haitian Revolutionary Army and fathers of the Haitian nation. Together, we defeated the Napoleonic army and proved to the world that white imperialism isn't invincible. Ah, those were the days...

As I lay at the bottom of the frozen river, drifting in and out consciousness, I found myself thinking about my life. Well, if you can call this a life, that is. I thought of my centuries-long existence, since this may very well be the end of it. I can't believe it's going to end like this, I thought. I've been through some horrible situations before, but this one is definitely something else.

In a few hours, the sun will be up, and if I'm still at the bottom of the river, its light will burn my flesh until I become ash. That's what happens to vampires who aren't indoors when the sun comes up. I know this all too well. I wonder why Khadija hasn't come to finish me. Perhaps she fears coming down here and being trapped beneath the ice as well? Interesting, but irrelevant at this point. One way or another, I am dead.

Treachery is the way of the vampire, I thought to myself, as the cold penetrated my flesh, numbing me to the pain of the injuries I sustained during the fall. I feel a sharp pain on my side, and as I gently prod it with numb fingers, I realize that a sharp piece of ice has been thrust through me. A few inches upward and the icy spear would have been thrust through my heart. Isn't that peachy keen?

I've lived a long time, and truth be told, part of me is relieved, rather than disappointed or scared, at the prospect of immortality coming to a sudden and fiery end for me. I haven't been happy since the night I became a vampire. I was a soldier in the revolutionary army led by Toussaint, one of the bravest men created by God. We were fighting against the French colonial forces led by General L'Eclerc, brother-in-law of Napoleon himself. Our guerilla tactics harassed French's best and brightest, and we killed scores of them day after day.

One night, our troops came upon a French regiment stationed near Cap-Francais, a large city on the northern coast of Saint Domingue and a stronghold of the French forces. As we advanced on their camp, intent on slaughtering them under the cover of night, we found out that someone had beaten us to it. Every French soldier and cavalryman lay dead, their throats ripped out, and upon closer examination, we discovered that their bodies were drained of blood...

"Something foul has happened here, men, be careful," General Toussaint Louverture said, and my fellow soldiers and I heeded our leader's words as we carefully marched through the camp. I did not think it possible for a man like myself to feel pity for dead Frenchmen, since the bastards always treated my kind like animals, but I felt immense pity for these poor devils. Being torn apart with animal savagery was no way for a soldier to die, I told myself.

"Corporal, I've got to take a piss," I said to my team leader, a tall, burly and dark-skinned man named Samuel, who was one of General Toussaint's right-hand-men. Sighing, Corporal Samuel nodded at me, and I went into the foliage...to relieve myself. The sight of blood has always made me sick, and even after fighting against countless Frenchmen, I was not fond of it. As I whipped out my dick to take a leak, I heard a noise, and as I turned around, I found myself looking at an eerily beautiful black woman...

"Hello, brother," the tall, ebony-hued, long-haired and curvy vision of feminine beauty. I looked at her, this magnificent sister clad in a tattered red dress, and she smiled at me. Her lovely brown eyes seemed to glow from within, and for some reason, I felt quite nervous as she came towards me. I felt the urge to run, but I didn't, and still she came...

"Ma'am, this is no place for a lady, especially a Negro lady, the French are around, dead, but it's still not safe," I replied, and the woman smiled, and I saw that her teeth were unnaturally white, and sharper than any teeth I'd ever seen in a person's mouth. I stepped closer to the mystery woman, concerned only for her safety. For as a fighter in General Toussaint's army, I dreamed of a day when men and women of our color would be free...

"Such a brave man, you are concerned for me," the mystery lady said, smiling as she came closer to me. I smiled at her, as she drew me into her arms. In spite of the overwhelming sense of danger I felt deep inside, I was drawn to her. The lady pulled me into her arms and embraced me, and then she brought her lovely face closer to mine, as if to kiss me...and sank her fangs into my neck. In that moment, I left the mortal world behind...

The lady who brought me into the nightmarish, wondrous and everlasting world of the undead is Amina Hademine, a princess who once ruled over the Tukulor people of Mauritania. This beautiful, fascinating immortal woman turned me into a vampire, and gave me a purpose. We became lovers, and she was my teacher and my guide in this fascinating night realm which was ours to explore...

"In this life, Tariq, we cannot know what tomorrow brings, so we must enjoy now, I was a princess among the Tukulor people of Mauritania, my father was Arab and my mother was African, I was praised for my great height, my beauty and my keen mind, and then I died and became the beautiful monster I am today," Amina said softly, as we wandered the woods of northern Saint Domingue.

"Oh, spending eternity by your side, that appeals to me, my lady," I said to Amina, and the lady smiled at me. We kissed passionately, and I tasted blood on Amina's lips. Earlier, we caught a French soldier, a deserter from the Battle of Vertierres, where Jean-Jacques Dessalines and his stalwart black soldiers defeated the French colonial forces. The young man's blood tasted of fear, and anger, so sweet on the tongue...

"I like your candor," Amina said, and just like that, we began making love, right in the middle of the rain-soaked forest surrounding the City of Cap-Francais, which in later years would be renamed Cap-Haitien, following the takeover of the island by Jean-Jacques Dessalines and his forces. Amina pressed her voluptuous body against mine, and I caressed her breasts, and that thick, round ass of hers...

"Oh, my lady, I've got much more than just candor in store for you," I whispered, as I laid Amina, stark naked, on the soft grass, and kissed her full, sweet lips while caressing her breasts. I licked a path from Amina's breasts to her slightly rounded belly, before spreading her thick thighs wide open, and buried my face between her legs. The lady closed her eyes and clucked her tongue as I wormed my tongue into her pussy, pleasuring her as best I can...

"Oh, Tariq," Amina whispered, and I looked up to see the gorgeous African female vampire lick her sweet lips and heard her moan deeply as I pleasured her. I flicked my tongue over Amina's clitoris, and worked my fingers deep into her pussy. I absolutely love the female body, and Amina's was one of the most beautiful I had ever seen. Pleasuring her was my delight...

"Turn around, my love," I whispered to Amina, and I gestured for her to get on all fours, which she did. If my heart still beat, it would have soared at the sight of Amina on all fours, her big, round derriere shaking from side to side as she waited for me. I spread Amina's ass cheeks wide open, and began licking her with gusto, loving the way she smelled and tasted.

Later, Amina and I continued with our fun, and she straddled me, her eyes glowing in the dark as they locked onto mine. My hands went to Amina's hips, and I caressed her pert derriere. Amina gripped my manhood, and rubbed it against her pussy lips. Bucking my hips, I thrust into her. Just like that, Amina and I began making love. Only when dawn approached did we stop, retreating to a nearby grotto to wait out the daylight...

Amina and I had many wonderful years together, but shortly after the stalwart troops of Jean Jacques Dessalines conquered the island of Saint Domingue, renamed it the Republic of Haiti, she began to feel wanderlust again. Thus we parted ways, and I never saw Amina again. To the best of my knowledge, Amina left the island of Haiti, and either spent some time wandering the rest of the Antilles, or went back to Africa. I honestly can't say for certain...

I remained on the island of Haiti, and watched the fledgling Haitian nation grow. I had high hopes that Dessalines, after crowning himself Emperor, would rule the island with an iron fist and maintain order. Dessalines knew that without a strong military to defend itself from European armies, the island of Haiti, now seen as a threat by all European colonial forces, from Great Britain to France, from Spain to the Netherlands, would not survive. The man was absolutely right, but unfortunately, he was assassinated by his political rivals, and decades of turmoil and political unrest followed on the island...

In the summer of 1973, after over a century in Haiti, I left the island and headed for New York City. That's where I met Khadija Singh, a beautiful young Indian woman studying business and African Studies at N.Y.U. I fell in love with the tall, voluptuous young woman, for she reminded me so much of my beloved Amina, my maker, the immortal woman who made me what I am today.

"You're unlike any man I've ever known," Khadija said to me as we dined at a nice restaurant in Harlem, one lovely evening in September 1973. I looked at the beautiful lady who sat across from me, clad in a red turtleneck shirt and blue jeans, her lovely raven hair cascading on her shoulders, and found myself smitten. This gal was different, and I was drawn to her like a moth to the proverbial flame...

"Why, thank you, my dear," I replied to Khadija, then I took her hand and brought it to my lips, a gesture which made her smile. I was fascinated by Khadija, who told me about Kerala, India, the place where she was born. I have always been fascinated by the distant lands of Asia, which haunted my dreams almost as much as Africa did. Khadija's parents were diplomats, and as members of the Indian High Commission, they'd been to places like Nigeria, England, and China.

"Mystery man, there's lots I don't know about you, but I think you'll share it with me in due time," Khadija said to me, while sipping some red wine. I smiled at her and nodded. One of the perks of being a vampire is that I'm virtually immortal. I am stronger than five adult males put together, and I can run almost as fast as a racehorse. My senses of sight, smell and hearing are much sharper than a normal person's, and I am immune to aging and diseases. The only downside to immortality is the sheer loneliness...

"Khadija, my dear, you make me dream old dreams," I said to Khadija, who grinned, and gently rubbed her hand against mine. Yes, I was smitten with Khadija, and we began dating. We would meet at her university library, and in nearby restaurants, and we went to museums and movie theaters together. I was smitten with Khadija, who was both lovely and smart, with a sensitivity and kindness which surprised me.

"I can't get enough of you," Khadija said haltingly to me one night, after some truly passionate lovemaking. We lay in each other's arms in Khadija's apartment at the N.Y.U. dormitories, and I smiled contentedly at her. Khadija gently kissed me on the lips, and tickled me by pulling on my chest hairs. I took her face into my hands, and looked into her soulful dark eyes. What a woman, I thought.

"The feeling is mutual," I whispered, and I kissed Khadija, and we resumed making love. I caressed Khadija's breasts, and slid my hand between her legs, fingering her pussy. I made love to Khadija, wildly and passionately, just the way she liked it. At some point, I put my lovely lady on all fours, and took her from behind. Khadija screamed as I gripped her hips, smacked her big brown bum, and thrust into her. Our bodies were one, as were our souls, and Khadija and I sucked and fucked the night away.

"You are so different from other men," Khadija paused to say, for some reason, while stroking my dick before sucking on it gently. I closed my eyes as Khadija massaged my ball sac while sucking me off, and in no time, my lady had me harder than a rock. We continued with our fun, and this time, Khadija climbed on top of me, and I pinched her nipples and smacked her butt as she rode me, hard. We continued until the wee hours of the morning...

"My dear Khadija, you are the beat of my heart, thanks for a wonderful evening, I shall see you tonight," read the note which I left on Khadija's pillow. The sky was already turning pink when I left Khadija's room, and went back to my own sun-proof dwelling, a basement apartment in the area known as The Village. Pricy, sure, but I could afford it, I assure you. The following night, after some wining, dining and lovemaking, I turned Khadija into a vampire. The worst mistake of my life...

"Immortality isn't meant for everyone," Amina once said to me, and I definitely should have heeded the great lady's warning. At first, though, Khadija Singh was overjoyed with the discovery of her, seemingly endless life. I should have known the feeling wouldn't have lasted. In transforming the lovely, lively and passionate Khadija Singh into one of the undead, I'd accidentally destroyed everything about her which I treasured...including her mortality.

"You doomed me," Khadija Singh said angrily, the night she made her first kill, a student whom she'd known at N.Y.U. I stood nearby, carefully observing her. Killing is a fact of vampire life. I kill indiscriminately. When I was newly made, back on the island of Haiti, I mainly fed on the French, since I still felt an attachment for my brothers and sisters who were forcibly brought there from Africa by the colonials. I no longer pick and choose. Black or white, male or female, straight or gay, I care only for their blood.

"My dear, I did not doom you, I gave you eternal life," I replied, and I pulled Khadija into my arms, and tried to kiss her, but she pushed me away. Khadija took off, and from that moment on, I knew that we were no longer lovers or even friends. Still, for a while, I had hopes that Khadija and I might reconcile and remain on good terms. Immortality is a long time to stay mad at someone. Of course, I didn't know much about women back then, or even today, come to think of it...

"Tariq, you're vile, someday I will kill you," Khadija shouted to me, right before she disappeared into the New York night. I stood there, in that dark alley near the New York University campus, stunned by what I'd just seen. It's been several decades, and now, as I lay in my frozen grave, awaiting the rise of the sun, I realize that Khadija Singh is definitely a woman of her word. Death will claim me at last, after centuries spent wandering the world. I left the U.S. and moved to Ottawa, Ontario, and had many adventures, but somehow, Khadija found me...

As the first rays of dawn crept into the sky, I braced myself for what I knew was to come. The sun would rise, as it inevitably does, and I would burst into flames, and the wind would scatter my ashes. Do I have a soul? I found myself wondering about it. I don't think of myself as a good man, nor do I think of myself as an evil man. I simply seek to survive, and I fight for that purpose, and also to feed. I don't kill out of anger or hate or jealousy, the way mortals do. I kill to survive, like a wolf does, or a tiger. That's it, that's all.

"Tariq, my love, wake up," came a disturbingly familiar voice, and my eyes snapped open, and beheld a sight they never thought they'd see again. Amina came, and her strong arms seized me, and pulled me from my icy grave. With superhuman resilience and strength beyond even mine, Amina dragged me away from the river, and took me to a car with tainted windows which waited on a dirt road nearby...

"Amina, is that truly you?" I asked, and Amina smiled, then pulled the icy spear from my side, causing me to wince and pass out. When I awoke, I was in a basement of sorts, and I was tended to by the lovely Amina, who was alive and well, and looking gorgeous. Amina cradled me in her arms, and fed me warm blood from a freshly killed mortal, and it revitalized me...

"Welcome back to the world, my dear Tariq," Amina whispered, and I looked at her and smiled, amazed by this beautiful, undying woman, and wondered how I could have ever been so foolish as to let her leave. Amina smiled at me, and I gently stroked her face, marveling at her. Amina looked at me, and queried me about the sorry state she found me in...