The Book of All Things New

This is Zebulon. Of course you  know this is Zebulon. What am I thinking. With what other narrative voice do you have such a relationship! The other narrators like to maintain their anonimity, but not me. Oh, and via the akoshic records, I know your names too! Hello, Jason! Greetings Melissa! I could go through the list, but you know who you are. Now back to the buzzings and bitings in the nocturnal world. For the time being, things are good. The world, or the Philadelphia part of it, is a better place. Still, no one thing, no one force is universal and absolute. There are always bubbles in the batter. And so, some 'iffy' souls are still breathing. That means our life eaters still have a certain measure of work to do. Not much, but some. They have gone back to monthly, lunar cullings. If I am correct, right now, Sarah is taking out a crooked civic guard ('cops' I think they call them). She knows where he hides. She knows where he sets his trap. If you have the right 'look' and the right last name, you don't get the ticket. But if you have the 'wrong' look and the 'wrong' type of last name, you get the ticket, regardless of how you were driving. And that is but one of his lesser crimes. Neighborhood thugs who 'play ball' are ignored. Others are robbed, or beaten, or killed. Does he act alone? Unfortunately not. But  tonight it is his turn to 'learn his lesson.' Although I fail to see how this newly acquired information will be of any benefit to him, since he will soon be completely and utterly dead. Look, look, look! He stops her on the street. He thinks she is a 'street walker.' He threatens to take her in.But it is only a 'scam.' We know what he really wants. Sarah pretends to ce concerned. She invites him to join her in a nearby, dark, sticky, greasy alley. He smiles and says - What for?..... She says - A free sample. I've got some new 'merchandise.' Come and tell me what you think.'........ He parks the car and follows. He pushes her against an unsavory surface. But before he can unfasten any of his many buttons, 'snaps' or 'zippers,' she has him. She caresses him. She kisses him. He growls - Cut that shit, you bitch. I don't have all night..... So she does what he wants. She gets right to it. She rips his collar, twists his neck to better present the necessary blood vessel and goes to work. He shudders. He moans. He struggles and tries to draw his gun. But it is too late. His blood is hers now. His life is over. His crimes are done. Sarah watches as his body collapses down onto the filth and burns away. But she did take his watch first, a nice one. Gold, inscribed with the name of some famous 'creative' and well marketed individual. It will be a welcome addition to their treasure cache. Jonathon and Baylah did their duty too. There were three blue flames this night. And the treasure cache was fattened accordingly.........And later? Later they all retreat back to the snug refuge. The three life eaters, joined by Edith, the telepathic Piney woman, take their ease in front of an orange, electric fireplace blazing forth from a genuine Amish mantle (it was a good deal on some shopping station and the elves and cherubs wanted it so they bought it). The vampires each enjoy a soothing aroma candle. Edith sips a cup of tea laced with a liberal splash of Jack Daniels. They stare into the quasi authentic, somewhat animated flames. But all is not peaceful. They can sense it. They can feel something. Jonathon knows. The one who created him, the one who named him Tomas, is on his way. His spiritual father is coming by for a visit. And as in most 'families' there is friction......For 'Daddy' seems just a wee bit upset.....