Three Immortals Walk Into A Bar...

Gregor

As I stride across the noisy and crowded concourse to get to the other terminal, I question Wolk, and he tells me whatever he can about the… vampire. Vampire! I’m getting more and more excited about this. What an opportunity! How long has it taken me to finally discover a real supernatural creature? Other than me of course, and I don’t think Seers really count. Wolk rolls his wolfish eyes.

“So what is his name?” I ask. Vampires would have names, right?

“His name is Levant.” He continues, evaluating everything that he can learn from the vampire’s thoughts. “I believe that he is originally from England. Or is it France?” He pauses rather than going on with more details. He seems to be finding it more difficult than usual to discover information about him.

I wonder if it is strange for Wolk to not have access to a Guardian. I think that normally Wolk listens more to the Guardians than to the humans when he is trying to learn about somebody new.

“Yes,” he answers my unspoken question. “It is very odd. With a Guardian I can instantly learn about the totality of the lifetime of their Guarded. This individual’s mind is shrouded in shadow, and much of his history is not readily available to me. I believe I might have to wait and follow along with whatever he is currently thinking.”

More and more interesting. Wolk isn’t utterly omniscient with this vampire? I glance down at the wolf walking along beside me, and he huffs lightly at me with his canine face, amused at my astonishment over his inability. Hmm. “Man,” I think to him. I believe I’d rather a man be by my side when I meet a vampire for the first time.

Without breaking stride, he instantly transforms into his man form, looking older than I do, hair graying at his temples and lines on his face. He continues to walk by my side, the same height as me, his human form looking just as real as he appeared to be while a wolf. In both forms, of course, he emits a glow, shining softly alongside me. Nobody else can see that either. He used to always dress as a medieval peasant, but a couple of centuries ago I decided that he was looking a little too anachronistic to me. He has kept up with modern fashion since then. More or less. Right now he is dressed rather like a professor from the 1950’s, wearing trousers and a tweedy coat over a vest and tie. His hands are in his pockets, as are mine. We make quite the pair, I think, amused, although of course nobody else can see him.

“So, what is he thinking about now?” I ask silently, finding this very entertaining. We have to just wait to see where his thoughts will lead us?

“Maria,” Wolk says. “He is obsessively thinking about somebody named Maria.”

“Oh ho!” Can a vampire be in love? How unexpected!

“Yes, he is intensely in love with whoever Maria is.” A pause. “Ah! It seems that Maria is also a vampire.” Another pause, and he looks perplexed while he apparently tries to parse what he is hearing from the vampire’s thoughts. “He is terribly impatient for the flight delay to end so that he can board the plane and be with her.”

That doesn’t make much sense, unless maybe Maria is a stewardess on the airplane. How sexist of me, I chide myself. Perhaps Maria is the pilot.

Wolk chuckles at me as we grow closer to the terminal where the vampire is still sitting in the bar. “No, she is not here, not physically. He is longing to go to sleep and dream with her.”

Ah. He wants to be able to dream about his love. That is quite charming. Also interesting, to know that a vampire can sleep, and even dream.

“It is more than dreaming about her,” Wolk clarifies. “If I understand his thoughts correctly, I believe that he can literally dream with her. That they can somehow share dreams with each other.”

They share dreams? How on earth does that work? I want to know much more about this, but we have arrived at the bar. “What is he doing?” I ask Wolk.

“Sulking in the back, feeling very cranky about the flight delay, and wishing that he had another drink. But he isn’t willing to flag the waitress down or go to the bar to place the order.”

Well that makes my introduction easier, doesn’t it? “What’s he drinking?” Not blood, presumably? Pretty sure he couldn’t order that at an airport bar.

“Their finest bourbon.”

Excellent.

I try to see where he is as I approach the bar, but it is very dark in the corner Wolk tells me he is sitting at. I squint my eyes in that direction, but I can’t see anything. It is very strange. Normally darkness doesn’t impede my vision at all, it never has. This darkness seems like more than mere absence of light.

“He appears to be able to draw darkness to him, literally. Physically. The shadows are clustered around him.”

Oooh! Spooky! I can’t wait to meet this fellow.

I order two extra large portions of the bourbon, put a very large tip in the jar, and slowly walk to the back of the bar. As I approach I am able to see him, his form emerging from the darkness.

Oh my, he is wonderfully scary! Look at this beast! Wolk laughs at me and rolls his eyes. He is built like a boxer, powerful and covered with tattoos. I can feel the emotions pouring out of him. He is angry, but it feels more grumpy than furious. I feel his impatience, and his longing for this Maria that he loves so much. And I feel his love. It is surprisingly intense. A vampire can feel this much? And all without a Guardian? Without a soul?

Just as I approach, Wolk points out, “I’m not so sure about the soul.” I pause for a moment, a couple of tables away, and the vampire is paying no attention to me or anyone else. Wolk goes on, “He seems to have something like a soul. Not a human soul, certainly, but there is something within him, more than merely his own consciousness. As you know, a human soul emits a glowing aura. But whatever this is that he has, whether a soul or something unidentified, it is formed of darkness. The shadows gather inside it, and flow from it.”

This is all very strange. I watch the vampire, trying to picture this, and begin to realize that the shadows around him seem strangely mobile, not stationary, not related to the lights in the bar. Wolk is also regarding him, obviously listening in on his thoughts. His expression lights up as though he has realized something. “Levant refers to this phenomenon as his ‘Heart of Darkness’,” Wolk adds.

Heart of Darkness. Mmmmm. What an intriguing phrase.

I cannot wait any longer. Clutching the glasses, I approach him. “Tell me everything,” I tell Wolk. “Especially tell me if this is going to get dangerous.” I certainly wouldn’t want any of these humans surrounding us to get hurt as a result of my insatiable curiosity.

When I ask if I can join him, holding up the glasses so he can see what I am offering, I fear that he is just going to tell me to get lost. But instead, he growls.

Growls? Oh my! A vampire is growling at me in a bar! It’s hard to find anything this unusual in life, and the novelty is thoroughly enjoyable.

Despite all the growling, he doesn’t tell me to leave, so I sit down, give him his drink, and he condescends to take a sip.

I feel all his irritation flowing at me. He finds me insufferable, I can tell, and I wish to find a way to put him at ease. I so much want to have a conversation with him, learn about him, discover everything I can about this brand new concept of living. All of his scowling and growling, his crossed arms and intricate tattoos and thunderous eyebrows, are really just endearing. Does this person even know how to be happy? He must, if he loves as fiercely as Wolk tells me he does.

“He has decided to leave the bar to get away from you,” Wolk tells me.

Oh dear. I wipe the smile off my face, and just ask him, simply, to stay. I use his name. Pretending that I know someone is often the way to disarm them, make a conversation easier.

It doesn’t seem to work with the vampire, though.

Levant

How does this scrawny human know my name? Is he on the payroll of one of Tepes’ enemies? I’ve only heard him speak a few words, but I detect an accent that sounds like he might be from the same region of the world Tepes is from. Where some foes may still be lurking. Was he following me? Is this some kind of setup?

I glance around the bar, at the crowd of humans flowing in and out from the terminal, dragging their rolling carry-on suitcases, trying to kill time as they wait for their planes. I don’t want to have a fight here in such a public place. Tepes would be extremely annoyed if I drew attention to myself, here in the middle of security cameras everywhere, not to mention a camera in the hand or back pocket of every human nearby. Social media is such a bane.

Best to stay here for now, and find out what is happening. If there is a threat to me, or to my family, or to Tepes, better to learn as much as I can. I have to content myself with trying to pull more shadows my way, stock up on my darkness and my power, to be ready for anything that might happen. Again, it is strangely difficult, the shadows seeming reluctant to approach my corner now that this man has invaded my space.

It almost feels like the times that I have battled a much older vampire for control of the shadows. Or like when Maria swipes the darkness that we share. This seems more like the latter than the former, as there is no sense of malice, but the lack of control is bothersome and alarming.

I scowl at him. What did he say his name is? Gregor? “Who are you?” I snarl. “How do you know my name?”

He smiles at me serenely. The worst villains are the ones that smile at you, with this confidence, this apparent lack of concern. I am more on my guard than ever. “Be easy, friend,” he says, and I listen to his accent carefully, trying without success to identify it. It is blurry somehow, as though the cadence of his native language has lost its strength. “I only want to talk, nothing more. You are interesting to me. I would like to get to know you.”

What the fuck. Is he coming on to me? What is this?

He glances to the side, and a little smirk comes to his face. “Ah, no, my friend,” he says, “I would not dream of insulting Maria in that way.”

That’s it. This is a threat to Maria. My self-restraint explodes in a puff of shadows and smoke. I surge to my feet, my chair scraping violently behind me, and slam my fists on the table, leaning over him, my knuckles pressed against the wooden surface on either side of his glass of bourbon, looming as threateningly close to him as I can. The shadows might not cooperate, but I still have my fists. “What do you know about Maria?” I demand furiously.

I’d expect him to try to back away in fear, but no, he only gazes up at me, serene as ever, and looks more sympathetic than frightened. “Please, Levant, is this really necessary? I am no threat, honestly. I genuinely only would like to have a conversation.”

When I don’t back off, and as I consider smacking him right in the mouth for his audacity in letting Maria’s name cross his lips, he lifts his hand, and with a very gentle touch, lays his long fingers on one of my forearms. It looks like this is meant to be a comforting gesture, one of concern and friendship and solace.

But the instant that he touches me, as his slender fingers wrap partially around my thick wrist, I feel a rush of weakness, almost a pain, and I sense my gathering darkness plop onto the floor, the shadows flowing down my limbs and resuming their place under the tables and in the corners of the room. My legs refuse to support me and I stagger backwards and crash back down onto my chair.

For the first time, he appears alarmed. His eyes widen. “Oh, pardon me!” he says in a rush. “I am so sorry!” He looks confused, and adds, “That doesn’t normally happen.” He lifts his hands and leans back, making it clear that he doesn’t intend to touch me again.

As soon as I am away from him, the shadows come back to me. I gather them from the floor, and from under the tables, and from the corners, and they flow back to me, and I fill my heart again with darkness. The weakness leaves me, but not the suspicion.

Who is this creature? He clearly is not merely an insipid human. What is happening?

He watches patiently as I restore my darkness and feel my strength returning. When I feel normal again, he smiles rather sadly, and says, “My friend, it appears that we both have secrets. Would you be willing to share some of yours, if I share some of mine?”