LISTENING IN THE DARK...AND FLYING TOO

First of all, we must agree, that what comes next, is fiction. Yet what is it to speak of fantasy or reality in a place where such things happen, in a place populated by vampires, ghosts and demons? This is me. It is wilkravitz. There is no Zebulon tonight. He is not in me. He is not near me. I don't know where he is. I don't care. Albion came back for me. There were still a few more hours of darkness. He thought I might benefit from a bit of elfin magic. So I went. I went out with him. And he took me up above the city. We dashed about through the starlight, on a chilly, April night. There is a thing they do. The elves, I mean. It enables mortals and ectremely untalented vampires to fly with them. Actually, it's very simple. All the elf has to do is bite into the inside of his wrist. Then, when the blood begins to flow, he, or she draws in a mouthful and swishes it around a little. After a few heartbeats they spit it out. No, more than just that, they spray it out all over their intended flying partner. It forms a glittery mist as soon as it hits the air. There's nothing gory about it. Did you ever read Peter Pan? Did you ever see one of the movies. Then you know. It's, what could you call it? It's pixie dust. And it gave me the power to fly. I don't remember. Sometimes I think we did this before. But living with the vampires confuses me. And I cannot differentiate between what is real and what is something else as well as I used to. But I went up. I did. And it was wonderful. He stayed right by me. I assume he guided me in some way. And we flew over the city. It did not take long to go from Chestnut Hill down into the central districts,. So I assume we must have been travelling at a great speed. But once we were there, moving between the lofty towers, we slowed down and descended a bit. Could people see us? Under normal conditions yes. But how could you call this normal? You want to know what I think? I think the elves have a cloaking ability. Yeah, I know, like the Romulans. That's a Star Trek reference. But I think you know what I mean. So we explored at a leisurely pace, slowly snaking in and out of the buildings. Now it was very late, maybe three or four in the morning. Except for the after hours places, the clubs were empty. The streets were nearly diserted. And steam rose from the manhole covers. This was the haunted time. Even in a city without enchanted creatures this would have been the haunted time. A few whores sold marked-down, quicky treats in an effort to wrap up their shift and turn in. An isolated patrol car moved in and out of the shadows. And those working strange hours quickly trotted  to and from the subway. All was quiet. A siren far in the distance. The lonely sound of a train whistle. A muffled growl, hopefully from a canine. And then we saw him, sitting on a rooftop. A townhouse it was. He just sat there with his feet hanging over the back alley. But he was not alone. Johnny Jump Up, I mean. There was a woman with him. But she was dead. And he laid her across his lap, as he tore off strips of flesh and shoved them down his pie-hole. We hovered there, watching. I know we made no sound. I was afraid to even breathe. The white-gray skull-like face. The boney fingers. The long, dirty nails. The greasy hair. The filed teeth. The bloody chin. He couldn't have been more than twentyfive feet below us. And I'm sure the monster could have vaulted up and grabbed me had he wanted to. But he did not do it. All he did was raise his sickening claw and nod. You could call it a salute. And then he grinned. It was absolutely horrible in the true sense of the word. We stayed there for a while. He didn't care. He went right back to his meal. She looked so naked and pathetic in the moonlight. Finally, Albion made a little 'pffft' sound. And then we drifted off, returning to the substantial house among the gentry. In the time that remained before the other vampires came back, he whispered secrets and stories that the ghosts had told him..........