A SILVER FOX STEPS OUT

It is quiet here. Let me see. Who do we have? There's Annie, the enchanted children, a few drab human familiars and Luna. Of course I am here too. 'Papa' endures. I hear the tick, tick, tick of the tall, wooden time keeping device. I see recordings of some 'Ellen' person dancing around and playing games with manic, screaming women. Sometimes I hunt the mice, just to keep sharp. No, I do not eat them. But two cats frequenting our trash cans seem very pleased with my donations.

Luna usually goes out alone. She has this routine. She'll get all tarted up, go to the door, then turn around and say - Well, gotta go scratch my itch.....And then she's off. I think she's got sublimation figured out. That's how she gets down into Center City. Edith, our human telepath, thinks she has her own familiars. You want to know something? I don't care. Just so she's there in our sleeping cabinet when I want to play a little slap and tickle . I still have my appetites after all.

Is Luna beginning to pile up her own wealth stash? Who the hell cares. Let her do what she wants. I hear those pathetic pseudo Vatican bastards are still poking around. I hope they find her. Let them throw a net over her. Lock her up in some oozing dungeon. Maybe she'll like that? Maybe that'll scratch her itch.

Annie, I think, is completely insane. You should see the little vignettes she sets up with her Barbie dolls and these huge, shiny, black roaches she finds down in the furnace room. Boy, I would hate to be one of her Ken dolls. They work hard for the outfits and plastic beach 'scuffies' she gives 'em. I will tell you that.

Speaking of outfits, I think I'm gonna pull this fine, sleek frame of mine together and go out onto Germantown Avenue. Those cozy, little multi-paned shops stay open late enough. Maybe I'll indulge in some stylish new haberdashery (is that the way they spell it?....I don't really care). Now tell me...what color form fitting, silk shirt goes best with salt and pepper hair? And short sleeved, or long, with the cuffs rolled up?  You know what? Think I'm gonna poke my head into McNullty's. See if I can't temp some frisky, little post grad into joining me. Maybe I'll teach her a bit about the 'Old World' way of doing things. Make her 'sing' a little. And, as many of you know, I am quite the proficient teacher.

AND THINGS BEGIN TO HAPPEN

So Jonathon spent the night in that cave on the hillside. And Sarah was with him. He played madrigals on the ancient oud, his ancient oud, as the gypsy witch twirled and danced. Then when he laid down the finely made instrument, the dancing girl caught her breath and said - Please, let me feed you. Let me offer drink.....And she turned back her sleeves and held out her arms.....For you. For you and the lady - she said......Jonathon hesitated. There had been no vision. She was innocent, her witchcraft more a delusional game than a true manifestaion. So he said - Woman, I cannot do this......The gypsy girl turned to Sarah and explained - Tell him. Tell him this thing must be done........Sarah knew not what to do. She was dumbstruck. And the desperate woman went on - My child is sick. My magic worthless. The healers turn away from the poor. Take my blood and return it to him. Work the miracle and let him live.......But still she was met by silence.....Then Sarah spoke. She said - I will help you. But I will not take your life......The  woman said - Thank you.....And she held up her wrist. Sarah broke the skin and drank. When she was done, the woman clutched the wound to her breast. She turned to Jonathon and said - And you sir? Please humor a desperate mother...Tears ran down her dirty cheeks. She offered him the other wrist and he took it. The woman looked into his eyes questioningly. He understood. And he nodded. And he drank. But the woman did not die. For the life-eaters tempered their thirst. So three souls walked out from that cave in the third hour after midnight. And the two vampires followed the poor woman as she led them into a town and toward her cellar home. It was dark. It was cluttered. An old woman, the gypsy's mother kneeled by a make-shift bed cradling a sick, gasping child. And Jonathon heard a voice, the voice of Johannon, his faithful servant from long ago. The voice said - Use the gift. Lighten the burden and save this life. So Jonathon neatly bit into his lip and kissed the child, transfering a small drop of blood from himself to the young one. In two heartbeats time the child relaxed. The breathing eased. The crisis was over. Tears streamed down the grandmother's face, as she uttered prayers in Spanish and in Rom. But the dancing girl just smiled. For she knew it would end like this. And she squeezed Jonathon's hand  and thanked him. Then she hugged Sarah too. But Sarah said - What have I done?.....The mother whispered - You showed him the way............

So they stayed there in that cellar for the rest of the darktime and through the following day, when the grateful mother took them to meet someone waiting beyond a little, rushing stream. It was a man. They felt him to be a life-eater, but could not be sure. For the magic, or whatever it was hung quite thickly about him, masking his true essence. The strange man said not a word, not even a nod. He merely gazed into their eyes and pointed inland. Then he turned and left. Jonathon and Sarah hurried after him.

They walked till they came to a city, but quickly made their way through the more or less contemporary districts, before entering a well kept quarter of medieval homes. Jonathon whispered to Sarah - I know these smells. I know those stones. My fingers remember the stucco on the walls. My ears recall the singing. My heart feels every prayer......Sarah said - Where are we?.....But before her mate could answer, the silent guide turned round and said - We are home....... 

LA CASA VIEJA...the old home

The waters of the Eastern Atlantic were cool and fresh. The summer heat had not yet begun to spill out from Africa. And the two young wolves of the sea cut through the waves with the strength of a pounding tempest. Light poured through the pliable, transparent barrier. Jonathon reveled in the clean, burning brightness. The spectacle was as new to him, for he had not seen it in centuries. Sarah's experience was somewhat different, as she still bore the tiny minute lines of last summer's tan. Schools of silvery, flying fish played all about them. And voices worked their way into his mind. Jonathon heard them. He heard one, in particular. He recognized the sound of it. A spirit voice? No, this one was different. It seemed to rise up from the heart of the great whale itself. And after a time...he knew it...Johannan,- he said. Is that you?.....There was a trembling silence, and then the reply....Yes, young master. It is I - said the voice........Where are you? - asked Jonathon......I am here. I am with you. I bear you up - answered the voice......And Jonathon knew that the voice came from within the whale itself. And he knew that the spirit of his faithful friend, the one who saved him from the Crusader fire so long ago, was the selfsame spirit of this great fish.. He cried. For he believed that all things happen for a purpose.  Then the voice died away. But he knew that he would be safe. And in this way they proceeded through the waters for two more days and two more nights, until the time came, an hour before the dawn, when it was over. Then the whales almost stopped and drifted toward the shore.  The protective membrane broke. And the two vampires were free. They kicked their legs and swam into the pounding surf.

Now the beach was empty. No others were witness, save the rugged hills in the distance . And Jonathon knew them. He remembered the place from his boyhood, as he rose up onto his feet. And he hugged Sarah and said - I am home. I have brought you to the place of my birth. Behold, the beauty of the Sepharad (seh-fah-RAHD). Behold the beauty of Andalusia. For we are in Spain. They began to walk through the moonlight, approaching a tiny campfire in the distance. A man was there, a thin man with clear, knowing eyes. He got up as they drew near and quietly spoke one word - Welcome. Then he held out a sack. Jonathon took it. And the man disappeared. Were they startled? No, their hearts accepted such things  as natural. Vampires move through magic as we move through the air. That's just the way it is. Sarah looked into the sack and found clothing and the two naked travellers began to dress. In the last moments before the dawn (the membrane no longer protecting them), they tumbled down into a small, winding secluded cave and slept, secure in the sheltering hills.

Word quickly spread among the life-eaters of the land. He is back. He is here. Tomas de Macabia (Jonathon ben Macabi) has returned. Now most were his friends. But enemies dwelt there too. And with the gloaming, as the sun went down, a young, human witch came forth to greet them. She carried an oud (old medieval, guitar-like instrument). And she passed it on to the 'young' vampirino. Then she laughed and danced and twirled, as he began to play.....

ZEBULON AND MATTERS OF THE SPIRIT

Things were quiet with the Chestnut Hill group. Quiet but tense. I guess it's because of Papa. He always gets that way around religious holidays. You see, he's so incredibly old, they don't effect him. And he only lets himself remember the scetchiest outline of his own people's beliefs. Jonathon's not there. Actually, he was the only one in the house following any  'organized' creed. Sarah was more or less culturally Protestant before her transformation. And Edith, although a Christian and  a good one, is a human. The Red Paint people? They're humans too. But their tribe or clan or whatever you want to call it is so old, they fall into the same category as Papa. Are they moral? Yes, they're moral. Are they loving? Of course they are. But all this Easter and Passover hoo-haa means nothing to them. It's just a big party that they're not invited to. No big dinners, or aroma candle parties in the case of the vampires. No inspirational observances. No memories with little ones. Just everyday life in a highly unusual situation.

But I have yet to mention the juvenile life-eaters. I have yet to speak of the elves and cherubs. True the youngest ones, the cherubs, know nothing of 'revealed truths.' They inhabit a realm quite innocent and pure. And., as you know, rarely, if ever, take a life. I suppose it's fair to say that they were the model  for what we read about in holy writ. They really ARE cherubs. The older ones, the elves, are a bit more complicated. They remember their past. They remember religion. And the memories are not often pleasant. For it was in the name of faith that they were sealed into casks and thrown into the sea. So, as children do, they distance themselves from such things. Are they aware of prayers? Are they aware of festivals? I guess so. But who invites them?

Now let me get to the other one. Twohundred and fifty years ago, when she was a slave, Baylah lived in a Protestant environment. And it wore away much of her Muslim past, but not all. She still remembered the unity of the Lord and the Revelation through Prophet Mohammed. She still remembered Holy Month and The Five Pillars. Was she free to practice? No. Those around her considered such things an insane affectation at best, and a demonic manifestation at the worst. Even now, she kept her creed to herself. Actually, she and Jonathon shared much. The overlap was asstounding. But slavery changed her. That's true in more ways than one. For it was her mistress who brought her over. So she talked to God in her own quiet way and sold alcohol to srtangers in a jewel-box, little bar.

Annie is a different case. She remembers things, like Easter egg hunts and mint jelly and Christmas trees and little Baby Jesus living in a rustic, little doll house with his Mama and her 'husband.' Does she miss them? Well, sometimes when she sleeps she does. For I've wriggled through her dreams and I know. Edith tries to include her. She'll give her a little Easter storybook. She tells her about the Bible and how she must always use her powers for good. But Annie doesn't get it. Look, she was messed up before she ever got here. Being a vampirina had nothing to do with it. Zebulon prays for that one. I'm trying to match her up with a good guardian angel. The one she was born with doesn't know what to do with her. Seems they don't teach much 'bout dealing with cases like that. She needs a heavenly defender well versed in 'special ed.'

So be glad and revel in the Season of Renewal deep within the warmth of your family. And remember us here in our commodious, glossy floored mansionette (not a McMansion) retreat. When you talk with God, make sure you send Him our regards. And tell him He's invited here whenever He feels like it.

I'll arrange for a disembodied spirit on the other side of the sea to fill you in on Jonathon and Sarah next time. Their killer whale chariots have passed the Azores and should be nearing the end of their duties. So joy to all and to all a good night...

Remember the Light that shines within you..........

LUNA TAKES CHANCES

Luna was getting to be a pig, a regular vamp-tramp. She killed everyday. Not 'culled.' Notice, I did not say 'culled.' Visions had nothing to do with it for her. She went out. She wanted the money. She wanted the wallets. She wanted the watches and the jewelry, so she killed a fat pig and she took them. Papa knew. Baylah knew. But they didn't want no big confrontation so they kept their malf shut. Besides, Jonathon and his bride were off on their quest. He was the religious one. And with him out of the way, what did they care.

So every day when the sun went down she'd rise up and decorate herself like a regular dog's dinner. Classy, just barely, with a lot of flash. You know the look...Malibu meets Snookie. Then she'd go out and roll some big mouth, pinky-ringed, boarderline thief, like a mercenary extortionist MD, or a 'hand-in-the-till' accountant and have a good time. They got plenty of bars where people like that can mush up with each other. Luna was just a low down greasy whore. She'd love 'em up, kill 'em real good. Grab all the cash and bling-bling. Ain't no regular body to analyze when it's all done. Just a lot of sticky ooze. Hotel managers around town  starting to notice. They don't want no bad publicity. The cops can't stop it. Luna changes her 'look' all the time. They never get the same image twice on them hotel videos. It's hard to identify what's left smeared all over them sheets. Nobody wants to scare tourists and conventioneers away. So nobody says a God damned thing. And Miss Luna builds up quite the treasure trove. Most she converts into cash. She already has one guy (a familiar) workin' directly for her. How much is she worth? First you gotta realize this has all only been goin' on for a few weeks. So when you add up the gold Rolexes and the cash and everything else, it comes to just under a hundred thousand dollars. That's a good start. But this is one dangerous game she's playing. Let me tell you. Somebody gonna stick a fork in that greedy bitch.

And Doctor Franklin knows all about it. He's got her all wired up. But she don't got no clue. You should see him, sittin' on his shiny, little electric scooter, all dressed  up in his red Phillies tee shirt and matching sweatshorts, peering into that flickering screen. I don't know where he gets the video from, but he gets it. Maybe there's some real tiny miniature thing planted right in her eye? And you think he's gonna let her get picked up? I don't think so. He don't want nobody diggin' up all them chips outta her flesh and tracin' 'em back to him. The Anti-Enchantment-Bureau likes to keep a low profile. So I figure it's only a matter of time before he smash her down (maybe give her a nice sunbath), or pulls her back in and sets her up in his zoo-like freak show...Ladies and gentlemen! The mermaid hag! The full-blooded Jersey Devil! The cold-hearted vampirina!..Pregnant wimmen and pissy-pants wimpie bastards to the back!.... And you know what? That can't happen fast enough for me. I don't even know why I'm still telling you this. Zebulon wants to waft over to the Old World and see what Jonathon's up to. I  got a feeling he won't make straight for Jerusalem. That boy gonna stop in Spain. That boy wanna see the old neighborhood. Maybe take a run up to the Tin Islands, Britian, I think they call it these days, and relive the nights of his yoof. And some a them frou-frou blood-suckers they got over in them places know he's comin'.

Wait til you see what they got planned................

UPON A FOREIGN SHORE..a storied port of call

'Shoreline' can have many meanings. It may be that place where the water meets the land. It can be a boarder, or a frontier. Sometimes it is the gosamer barrier separating the 'real' from the fastastical. Our two vampires were passing through such a membrane into a realm populated by the mer-folk. No daring explorer has ever seen it. For the sea-folk possess their own elusive powers and they can cloud the minds of those who come too close. But I am speaking of human minds. Vampires are something else. Besides, the whales brought them.

A cool blue-green luminosity rippled through this storied kingdom, conjured by an infinite variety of light-producing organisms. Jelly fish beacons lit ancient swim-ways. And other exotic creatures banished darkness in the dwelling places. A vanguard of mer-folk came out to greet them, peeling away the clear, vinyl-like substance holding them in place. True, they were groggy at first. But Jonathon and Sarah soon woke up. And their naked legs (not to mention other body parts) were quite the sensation in this municipality of sleek bodied swimmers. Curious fingers touched and explored. And telepathic signals flew through the water with the speed of summer lightning. The vampires could not understand all of it. But most of it was comprehensible. The power was different, yet basically the same. And the land miracle-makers discovered they were quite  comfortable under the sea. Air meant nothing to them. They breathed out of habit. A portion of their brains was just wired that way. But they could inhale water just the same. A little heavy at first. After a few dozen heartbeats not so heavy. Then it became completely natural.

A leader came forth. I would say she was some sort of queen. And a venerable 'woman' and fine beauty  too. She made some quick motions with her hands and tail. Those assembled instantly understood and a 'dance' ensued. Grab hands. Form a circle. Snap tails (if you have them). Move to the left. Move to the right. Kiss your neighbor. Then rush toward the middle and tickle the guests. This went on for a while. Had the mer-folk been born in Nebraska they'd be quite the square dancers (except for that part about tickling your naked guests).  And no island filled with willing Polynesians ever offered  a grander welcome. Refreshments were brought forth, succulent clams and oysters for the swimmy-people, fragrant salves and ungents for the leggy-ones.  Near the end of the festivities a mer-man came over and led them to a place of rest in a grotto-like, discreet, little sanctuary, where they slumbered upon a bed of rare seaweeds and grasses. The soft currents and eddies were exceedingly soothing.

When the restorative interlude was over, the queen returned. She 'told' them the fin whales could no longer carry them, for their kind rarely venntured into Old World waters. But new 'sporty' steeds came forth. Two, young, vivid sea-wolves. Killer whales they were. Bold and ready for the chase. Our vampires swam over. The mer-folk helped them get into position. And  when they were flush against the beautiful black and white hides, the same milky substance oozed forth to protect them, even from the sun. But these were creatures of the surface, used to jumping and vaulting through the waves. Jonathon and Sarah were in for quite a  ride. And the unexpected daylight passage was truly a gift. They cried to witness sea birds pierce the clear blue innocent sky.

And they had visions of the old sea hag, Doctor Franklin's mermaid prisoner. She laughed and clapped at the joy of it. For she saw it all through their eyes too........

THIS IS WHAT WILL HAPPEN

Jonathon and Sarah sat in the big glassed-in sunroom watching the surf. A weak moon peeked through the misty sky. Soon it would be time to go. She asked - Will it hurt?....He said - I don't thnk so.....She said - How do you be sure? How much do you know about this?.......He swallowed and answered - Not much. But I've heard about it. Papa came over this was. You know that. He made it. He didn't have any problem.......She said - Yeah, but he has a few years on us.......And she playfully punched his arm.

They walked through the large, stylish house and set everything right. Even the magazines on the cocktail table were straightened. The whole place was returned to it's Coastal Living Magazine perfection. Then they walked over to the large WaWa convenience store on Washington and Ventnor Avenues to buy some 'thank you' stuff. You know, cans of tuna fish, some bread for the freezer, a carton of ice cream, a bottle of soda, pretzels. Sarah wanted to do that. Humanity was still fresh within her and she was raised right. Baylah's human boyfriend will be very pleased.

After that, they went back, stocked the kitchen and left. Jonathon locked the door and returned the key to its hiding place under the deck. They stepped down onto the cold, empty beach and took a few deep breaths. Then they kicked off their shoes and headed a few hundred yards or so downbeach toward the giant elephant shaped building. She looked right out to sea. Her port-hole-like eyes reflecting the moonbeams on the water. No one else was around. A few early season lights punctuated some of the windows in the Island House condominiums.But they were safe, for only the stars looked down. Sarah said - Will I feel the cold?.....Jonathon said - Yes, but what can it do to you? Nothing. It's just pain...and we're vampires, so don't worry.

He led her down to the foamy surf line and started to take off his clothes. Sarah followed his example. When they were naked, she started to cry. He kissed her and squeezed her hand. They stepped into the icy broth, barely fifty degrees farenheit, two perfect statues, bathed in silver light. And they walked into the ocean, never once looking back. She gasped. Her muscles tensed. His did too. But they went on. Strange creatures brushed against their legs. But they keep going. Soon they had to swim. Sometimes they drifted apart. But not by much. He always found her. After a while the shoreline faded to a thin, bright line behind them. Then it disappeared. All was silent. And they went on, alone in all the universe, floating between the never-ending sea and the never-ending firmament above. After a time, mournful notes echoed in the distance.

The princes of the sea drew near, proceeded by their song. Huge whales, fin whales. None greater save the royal blues themselves. And they passed under the vampires, slowly rising up toward the surface, until Jonathon and Sarah laid flush against their backs, he riding one and she upon another. Then he said - Now, bite in.....And she did, sinking her teeth into the blood-rich, rubbery skin.. He did the same. They sped along this way until the whales went under, taking them down into the bottomless depths. A milky fluid oozed up from the leviathans encasing the vampires in a protective insulating layer. And the blood pumped forth to nourish them. Pressure meant nothing. Cold meant nothing. They were safe. Soon they began to dream the great dreams of the endless sea, barely noticing the pod of mer-folk come close to take their measure. They flew over the crests of massive, never-seen peaks and skimmed just above firey orange, undersea lava flows. Giant squid waved as they went by. And other creatures, as yet unnamed by man saw too. And in this way they progressed, spanning the distance between the new world and the old............