Sunday, May 31, 2015


Jonathon couldn't sleep. Mortals think might-folk effortlessly fall into death-like states, but they don't. Well, some do, though not cerebral, introspective life-eaters like Jonathon. They set him up in a little office by the kitchen. It had the smallest window, so it was easy to seal it up with duct tape and an old oil cloth. Baylah had a bed in a walk-in closet... really more of a boudoir... snug and opulent, just like a genii in a bottle.... provided the bottle was upholstered, like the one they had on television.

He thought about the old woman and what she said. Lucid Wanderers were always so mysterious. Worse than vampires. Imagine maintaining your identity through countless lifetimes. Different faces, races and places, but always you... like a student forever observing humanity. Not that they don't have any input. They do. But no one era means that much to them. Lucid Wanderers see a much bigger picture. What was her name, Boo-Nah-Kay-Lah, or whatever it was. Jonathon wondered where she slept, or even if she had to. He heard the daytime noises. Baylah's boyfriend got up to run on the beach. The housekeeper puttered 'round the kitchen. Baylah meet with her special boutique representatives. She'd have them come up to her closet, really like a boutique in its own right. They'd chat, discuss trends, drink champagne and gossip. She'd place orders, maybe buy a few samples on the spot. The closet was a big 'L' shaped affair. Quite easy to hide from the daylight when the door was opened. Artificial light didn't matter. Seven hours was enough. Vampires don't have to sleep til dusk, just avoid the light.

Jonathon wondered who he'd kill. Probably some recalcitrant industrialist. Look what they've already done.... Pacific atolls drowned like Atlantis. Bangladesh is next, you know. Lot they care. Cart the bastards out. Poor folks don't matter, especially exotic ones. Still, he'd taken vows... only cull those sent to him in 'visions.' You regulars know about the vows, right? Keeps it all legal. Makes it all moral.... Who knows?

Another one's supposed to come by. The old woman said.... a male... a vampire... a strange one. Been a long time since he'd met any new life-eaters. They get that way, vampires, I mean... snug in their own little world.... like spiders... each on a web, or deep in a dark, dark hole.

He listened. Baylah was watching The View. Sharon Osbourne's voice... he knew the voice. Two o'clock... it must be two o'clock.... six and a half, maybe seven hours til nightfall..... He got up and put away the sofa bed. He turned on a lamp. There was a laptop... a new one... on a desk. Jonathon only knew the basics. He could google things and (maybe) manage a tweet or two. Had an account. Not his name, a 'familiars.' But he did have a cell phone and he called a guy... another familiar... asked for a laptop... his own laptop, all set up for internet gambling. He could manage the games once it was all set up. Forty five minutes later they delivered it. The housekeeper brought it in. She knew the drill. Knocked seven times. Jonathon went in the closet. She entered, put down the new laptop and left. He came out and gambled. It had ten thousand dollars on it... enough to keep him happy for a few hours......

Tonight he'd kill someone. Boo-Kah-Lay-Na, or whoever she was had it all planned.

An all powerful plutocrat would die... no body... no credit... real clean... real easy.... Now you see him... Now you don't..

Vampires are good at that...

Ooh, look. Five aces... Jonathon likes to win.... So does the old woman...


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