BITS AND PIECES, SOME OF THEM NASTY

Now the mole people have tatters and scraps of most everything those up on the surface have. Some of the children tinker with 'found' laptops and intricately rigged signal hookups enabling them to slither onto the internet, I think they call it. So they have the ability to converse with other internet addicts all over the world. Let me tell you, those magic talking machines are hardly ever turned off. I think they have maybe two or three of them. And they crowd into some cozy, brick alcove and tap away. That's how it started. When the second mole sister in Jonathon's little harem received her blood gift, it did not work exactly as expected. Oh, it's not as if Jonathon was unhappy with the outcome, only he thought she's get 'healthier' that's all. But no, she had to be particular. She would not lick up the blood just as it was, fresh from his body. No, she had to mix it in some contemporary, luxury food. Spaghetti-O's, I think it is called. And she did eat it quick, but she ate it that way. So something in the 'love apple' (excuse me for using an old name for tomatoes) sauce changed things and she did not just get healthier. She got a pair of fancy, new breastesses as well. The other sister, the one that used to be a bit wall-eyed felt a little jealous, but what could she do? When you mix with magic, you have to be prepared to accept what shakes out. And vampires, a lot of them at least, possess forms of magic they don't even know about. So some of the mole children, not children actually, more like twelve and thirteen year old boys, find out about it. They jam in all around one of the magic talking, picute machines and start sending messages to never-seen best friends all over the globe. The next thing you know, folks all around the world learn that if you mix Spaghetti-O's with a tiny bit of 'human' blood and chew it up and swallow real fast, you will be the proud receipient of a brand new pair of tah-tah's (I think that is the contemporary medical term for the body part in question. Sometimes it is so hard for Zebulon, a disembodied spirit, to keep up.). Then, a little while later, we find out there's been a rush on food stores all over and it is now vertually impossible to get cans of that crimson delicacy anywhere. If you ask me, those magic, talking, picturing boxes are one of the most powerful forms of magic I know. They are almost right up there with the Akoshic Record itself and that is saying something. So Jonathon gives the other sister, the previously crazy-eyed one, a few more drops of his blood. and seeing as she is not as fancy as the other one, she gleefully slurps it right down. And they wait there, in their little quilt and blanket stuffed alcove for something to happen. But she doesn't really look any different. Oh, her skin was a little nicer. And seeing as it was only a 'casual' Saturday afternoon, she was bare all over, so there was plenty of skin to see. Even in the dim, warm, orange sterno light they could appreciate how nice it was. Only that's not what she wanted. So she continued to sulk and managed to wring the neck of one of the domesticated, food pigeons unlucky enough to get in her way. Jonathon told her he'd bring down some more of those Reeses Peanutbutter Cups she was so found of the next time he went 'up' and that helped to smooth things over. Later, when he gave her a real nice shower bath in the ruined restroom, he made a big fuss over her pretty skin. That tended to sweeten her up a bit too........ And what was going on 'up above'? Those 'finders', those human blood hounds, those detectives sent out by that secret group pretending to represent the Trinitarians in Rome were swarming all over like a company of ants. The Americans sent out by the Anti-Enchantment Bureau, I think they call it now, weren't doing too bad either. But the only things to happen so far were the aprehension of some sad old, fortune tellers, plus a particularly unusual , morbidly thin and somewhat manic gentleman in a tight, black, old fashioned business suit, with the astonishing ability to vault up to rooftops and terraces three stories high. Johnny Jump Up, I think he called himself. And he was rumored to be responsible for some mysterious crimes of his own......Ah, such is the word from Philadelphia after dark......Come back when next the Earth spins again and I will have some new secrets for you......

CITY LIFE

Papa and his little girl made the rounds of their favorite shops. He took her to the CVS, a plain old CVS store. She liked the fragrance aisle. They bought various scents in all forms, liguid, oils and candles. Annie said 'thank you' to the woman and took the bag. The woman even smiled at her. What a nice twosome they made, the  handsome executive and his little girl. Then it was over to The Limited for Girls for some stylish, colorful outfits. The sales lady helped her in the fitting room. Annie liked the way the tops and bottoms looked. She posed in front of the mirror and as children are wont to do, she was not too careful. The sales lady saw one of her tiny fangs and said - Uh oh, somebody's got a new big permanent tooth! You gotta start takin' care now!...Annie looked up at her assuring the woman that she would. After, it was a quick trip to the supermarket. What did they need there? Nothing. Maybe a few dust clothes to tidy up their quarters at the museum, a bit of this, a bit of that. But they liked to watch mortals buying food,especially the plump, plastic wrapped chunks of red, moist meat. Papa said it was like an appetizer. Annie licked her chops and agreed that it was. So when they found the fat, sloppy pretzel vendor packing his wares into a little vehicle parked in a dark alley they were ready. The guy said - Sorry, folks. Done for the day.....It was about six thirty in the evening and he liked to stay open till just after the rush hour. Annie made a sad face and said - Awwww.... The pretzel man felt sorry for the little girl and gave her one of the three lonely pretzels left. The other two were 'no good', meaning he'd probably handled them with his contaminated fingers after pissing up that alley. She took the semi-stale, starchy treat and licked a bit at the salt (vampires can do that. there's lots of salt in blood after all). The man smiled. Papa said - Thank you my good man......He looked down at his 'daughter ' and whispered - What do you say?......She bashfully responded - Thaaank yooou..... The pretzel guy told her she was welcome. Then he went back to packing up his vehicle. That was his mistake. But in truth, there was nothing he could have done to prevent things. Papa was on him in an instant, pinning his arms behind  his back. There was not even time to scream, as the alpha-vampire's  fangs tore into his flesh. The blood rushed out. Papa took a little for himself, then motioned to Annie, who quickly 'jumped to' and took possession of the meal. Papa wiped his lips (there was never much. real vampires are not sloppy) and he smiled and smoothed back her hair as she greedily finished her dinner. There would be opportunities galore for him to  dine later. Perhaps after two in the morning when the clubs let out. The streets were a vertual smorgasbord then. And who knows? If he got hungry in the interim, well then maybe he'd bite into a succulent drug pusher or two. He knew just where to find them.  Annie retrieved a small keychain from the vendor's greasy residue. She liked the shiny plastic and the colors advertising some casino or another and she carefully stowed it in her new, little pocketbook (also bought at The Limited for Girls.)  Then they picked up their packages and were off. She'd go back to the museum, where the night crew (all safely 'made' into 'familiars') played with her and entertained her among the almost dark, deserted galleries featuring possessions of the dead. Papa would continue his nightly patrol slurping up the flavors of the city. But he was beginning to appreciate the wisdom of the others. It was just more convenient to snap up an evil-doer, for they wouldn't really be missed. Less questions. No fuss. Quick and easy. Oh, he was still quite crazy and drunk on this new liberation (centuries in a Vatican uber-dungeon can grow quite tedious). He was still prone to make mistakes, but considering his great powers (sublimation, the instantaneous transportation of enemies to torturous climes) what did he care. Yet we live in a technological age. Eyes are everywhere. And detailed records are meticulously kept. Top people in Catholic hierarchies the world over were pressed into service looking for the exotic escapee. And if they were innocent concerning the escapee's true nature, they still cooperated. The noose was beginning to tighten. And American, Anti-Enchantment Agents, were starting to pick up on things as well....

NEW FRIENDS PART II

She ran her fingers all up and down her torso like it was a new toy. Then she started to toss her hair around and hiccup. The other sister got scared. She hugged Jonathon real hard. But she did that every chance she got, so this was nothing new. She second sister began to shiver. She got goose bumps all over her body. Then she jumped to her feet and started to do a dance. I think it was the hot-cha-cha, or something like that. Zebulon saw it once at an old burslesque show. Only this girl had no need for the strip part, since that objective was already accomplished. So she collapsed back down onto the packed dirt floor, hugged her knees and started to rock back and forth. Her sister got a little worried. She said - What did you do!? What did you do!? ....Jonathon said - I did not do anything. I told her. I told her. It's the other crap in that can. It messed things up. We can't just mix our blood with anything else. It doesn't work that way..... Then it happened. First on her left side, but after a few heartbeats the other side caught up. She relaxed and smiled. I think there were a few soft, parting toots as well. But she had them. She had them, a brand new set of fancy chestesses. And she capered about like a crazy baboon. The first mole maid sister got up and started running around yelling - Come see! Come see! You gotta see this!.....But Jonathon just exhaled. He knew this was going to lead to trouble.

NEXT BEST FRIENDS

The two mole maids were particularly beguiling. I think they were sisters. One of them had something wrong with her eye. It went a little bit crazy at times and turned out to examine the wall. So Jonathon gave her a tiny tasty-q of his blood and.....IT WENT AWAY! The other sister got jealous. She wanted to be a bit more perfect herself. So she pouted and sulked till he gave her a little gift too. This sister was squeemish and didn't know if she would 'like' it, so she asked him to dribble it into a can of Spaghetti-O's for her and she ate it that way Now Jonathon told her. He did. He really did. I know, for I was sublimating through all three of them (quite a pleasant way to spend a bit of eternity) and it's the truth. He told her that the 'ingredients' in that 'easy to fix' treat might alter the outcome. But she didn't care. This little snip who had never once been up to the surface knew everything, don't you know. So she stirred it all up with a popsicle stick and guzzled it right down. (mole people sometimes have such strange manners). At first nothing happened. She burped a bit. Her stomach gurgled and I think she tooted once or twice. But then things seemed to quiet down. Her sister and their vampire princeling began to tidy up their snug, little alcove. After all, some of the niceities of society must be observed. Then they pulled on a few pieces of clothing, sat down and watched. Jonathon knew that 'something' would happen. He pushed the small. flickering sterno flame close to her and they studied her in its dim, orange glow. Soon she started to giggle

FEEDING TIME

Annie fell back into old habits. Papa encouraged her. She was quite good at sublimating and he loved to see her do it. She would melt into somebody's bed chamber, stand by the foot of the bed ,  and carefully uncover the feet. Then she's lean over, position her wide opened mouth above a particularly juicy looking toe or two, and quickly bite them off. The cut was so clean that victims rarely awakened. And her saliva worked its vampire magic, so the wounds healed immediately. Later, out on the street, she'd spit out the repulsive toesies and giggle. Then she'd skip off with her Papa, heading toward the real meal of the night. Her favorite game was 'third one out.' They'd walk the streets looking at the menu, but would always skip the first two interesting choices. But the third one was 'the winner.' That's the one they'd walk up along side, make vampire eyes at, and guide off into some dark corner. It could be a college kid coming home from a late night job, or a nurse on the eleven to seven shift, or some middle aged lothario leaving his completely disinterested little gold digger. What did they care. Soon there'd be a blue, cold flame. The body disappeared and yet another family  would be left in limbo. It could go on like this for a long time. True, Papa still wanted to confront Jonathon. He still entertained some nebulous idea of revenge. But freedom was good. 'Life' was good. The rest could wait. Still, deep in his underground lair, Jonathon knew how dangerous Papa really was. No one knew the actual extent of his abilities. He didn't truly know himself. So Jonathon stayed away. sometimes he'd sneak up to the moonlit surface and cull a deserving victim. And sometimes he'd depend on what the mole people brought him. It was far from perfect. He missed Sarah and thought of her constantly. But he could survive. There were two particular mole maidens who interested him. Pretty little things they were. Quite striking with their long, wavy hair, wide, shining eyes and quiet, modest ways. Lately they'd begun nesting together, piling their blankets in the same brick alcove and spennding their time intimately exploring the possibilities. It reminded him of the concubines' quarters he'd visited in the villas of certain relations back in old Granada and Seville. And he whispered them little songs, Spanish songs, Arabic songs, fom a life lived long ago. When finished, they'd steal off to one of the ancient, crumbling restrooms and carefully bathe each other by sterno light under the softly dripping pipes. But he never stopped longing for Sarah. So Baylah was safe at the seashore. And Jonathon was sheltered as well. The various humans laid low in the Pines. Our midnight reality ticked on. But Papa's Vatican persuers had begun to discover certain things. They had powers. They had tools. And they had collaborators too. He wasn't the only one sealed off in the dark away from the world. The noose, as they say, was beginning to tighten...

MEANWHILE DOWN AT THE JERSEY SHORE

Baylah could feel everything. She could taste the events in Philadelphia. She knew about Papa and what he did to the others. Did she hate him for it? No. That's just what animals do. Was he always an animal? What does that matter? He is one now. But she knew that Jonathon was safe. And she knew that the humans were actually close by, tucked snug in the Jersey Pinelands. So she waited. That was the easy part. The broker had a nice place. It waasn't directly on the beach, but it was 'beach block.' And the master bedroom deck had a good ocean view. Everything inside was straight out of HGTV, all granite and hardwoods and stainless. Huge, flat-panel TV's held court in every room. The town wasn't deserted, but the pace was slow. It gets like that during the winter. The locals like it. You can browse around the picture perfect shops on the avenue and nobody bothers you. Best of all, there's no 'me first' battles at the deli counter in Casels. If she had to be stuck anywhere, Margate was as good as any. Not that Baylah was purchasing a lot of deli (maybe once in a while for the broker. they did have evening hours after all), but you understand. Though she did enjoy the proximity to Atlantic City. Ten minutes in the car and they were there. She already had her favorite machines. The dollar video Joker Poker was the best. What? Did you think vampires couldn't get hooked? Think about it. They can't absorb as many varieties of nourishment as humans can, so they search for other ways to satisfy their needs. True, the blood (or more accurately, the life) supplies quite a jolt. And contrary to what some misguided hacks want you to believe, they can have sex. Their bodies are preserved in perfect working order, after all. It's just not the way they reproduce. But sometimes they hunger for a little more. And the excitement of a casino can be very satisfying. The broker smiled, he liked to make her happy. Her purse (some fifteen hundred dollar designer thingie) was always kept filled. And she did manage to contact one of the surviving 'familiars' (look, even the broker was a 'familiar' of sorts) who saw to it that a manila envelope neatly stuffed with thick piles of Benjamin Franklin , greenish-gray, engravings was discreetly hand delivered to her every few nights. Considering all that had happened, existence was good. The hunting was good. She could always focus in on some rotten bastard who needed to die real bad. Granted, A.C. was festooned with spy cameras. They were everywhere, in the casinos, the malls, the parking garges, the streets. But it was not difficult to lure the prey to quieter, more remote surroundings. Say a cozy, old fashioned motel just out on the highway and surrounded by wetlands. You've seen places like that. You know. And via some judiciously presented blood gifts,it was not hard to 'make friends' with the night manager. What's best, the worse the bastard, the less they were missed. And gambling towns...any gambling town...grow a lot of bastards. So Baylah waited. And she plotted. And she planned for the day  when Papa would pay. She had a strong sense of justice, this one. As would any soul once forced to work as a slave. Do you like Atlantic City? Do you go there often? Well then, maybe you've seen her? How could you miss. She looks like what the 'contemporaries' call a fashion model. But be careful. Don't get too close. Especially if you're one of them 'rotten bastards,' that she so obviously enjoys, or you just might 'stay' in Atlantic city forever.......

UN POCO DE LA CIENCIA VAMPIRISMO

There are certain things that you should know. Vampires, for the most part, have little knowledge of their true beginnings. Yes, there are old legends and stories, but they are only myths. And each vampiric culture has their own. Some believe the nocturnal nativity happened in Sumeria, back before the age of Gilgamesh. Others revere 'first ones' who ignited into the physical realm inorder to seal a pact between the Sun and the Moon. I could go on and on. But Papa knows best, for he is, if not the eldest, certainly close to it. Imagine, a being who has seen Neanderthals in the flesh. And yes, there were Neanderthal vampires too. Some of the old ones claim that isolated Neanderthal survivors are responsible for werewolf stories the world over. What does Papa believe? Actually, not much. He knows there were beings like himself, Cro-Magnon or 'modern' vampires at least twenty eight thousand years ago. That's when the last of the Neanderthals died out in some lonely caves, down by the sea, near The Pillars of Hercules. Well, the last truly 'human' Neanderthals, for a minute dusting of the vampiric sort managed to survive. Werewolves? Big-Foot? Anybody ever hear of The Boogie-Man?  Come on, you get the idea. What's it like for a man who has clear memories of mammoth hunts to make his way along the public thoroughfares of a contemporary city? What type of cunning must he possess? Who were his 'playmates' along the way? I can tell you that when I sublimate through Papa's mind, I feel vestiges of an old one, a special one, a feamale one, a soulmate. Her original name, I do not know. But in recent centuries she has answered to 'Renate '(Reh-Nah-Tay), a personal label often heard in Central Europe. She knows he is free now. Why she never came to his aid, I do not know. Perhaps she too was passing through a weakened period. Perhaps she did not care. He waits for her. Not so much waits, as anticipates their reunion. Oh, it will take place. That event will happen. Could be she's on her way........ But for now, he fills his time with the little girl, with Annie. Oh, how she loves to kill. Craves human lives like a toddler craves apple juice. And he makes sure that she gets them. Fresh ones. Fat ones. Terrified ones who squirm and thrash and scream (until they are gagged) and sweat. Nice ones. Bad ones. Old souls shuffling off for their almost hourly, nighttime, pee-pee visit. And teen-betweens insolently cracking their gum. They all think they're being taken over into some romantic land peopled by sharp toothed Abercrombie and Finch models (see, I keep up). But they soon learn differently when the 'light' goes out and they begin to burn. What else did I want to tell you?......Oh, yes. The 'other ones.' The elves, the cherubs and the lovely Sarah. What happened to them?  Let me see. I suppose you could think of it as being in Limbo, or maybe what the Buddists call The Bardo. Are they irrevocably gone? No, they can be brought back. Do I know the means? Well, it's complicated and right now it's not on the tip of my no longer existent tongue. But there is a way. Such a fate has befallen others. They are not the first. Indeed, some of the most artistic carvings and high-relief statues found in cathedrals and palaces throughout the centuries have suffered the like. Who knows, you may have seen them. Imagine what the world will be like when they wake up? Zebulon has enjoyed our little chat. But It must end now. For there are events unfolding in Fostat (what you call Cairo) on The River Nile, in the Land of Kemet (known to you as Egypt) which call to me, as I once spent time there, years back, as a youth.........