It was dark. there was a soft drizzle. One of the caretakers at Laurel Hill, a 'familiar' met the mourners at an entrance and guided them to the place, a plain, classic building for above ground burial. Some fear the worms and chose this, only to face the flies. For they get in through the tiniest crack and their hatchlings can be tiny too... worms of the air... maggots.
I am ashes... bits of bone and grease. Few will feed on me.... Indeed, few worms feed on those put in the ground. They are buried too deep. Worms prefer top soil, not the clay that lies beneath. And those so entombed are feasts for microbes.
They walk down dark paths. a functionary discretely shines a flashlight upon the ground, through districts of the dead, or at least the parts they left behind. Ornate tombstones and columns mark individual graves and the nighttime earth is moist with the promise of spring. Sarah hugs the urn... my urn. Leo and Baylah walk with her. Edith walks behind with the two elferinos and two elferinas. Baylah's mortal gentleman friend and some other mortals, 'familiars' and such come next. They found a Spanish Rite (Sephardic) rabbi. Not from Philadelphia. From someplace else. Sarah didn't want local clergy involved in the death of a vampire, because word would get out and misguided people might desecrate my resting place.
We approached the old, gray stone building. The heavy, bronze door was opened. We went in. Small, votive candles flickered from wrought iron holders, spaced six feet apart at roughly eye level. My niche was a few yards in. The thick, marble covering had been removed and rested on the floor. Exposed surfaces were plain, gray slabs.
The rabbi, a rather neat, young man with a carefully clipped dark red beard (if he was, in fact, Spanish, or of Iberian decent, he might have been Aragonese or Catalan. I don't know. there were auburn haired and red haired people in Al Andalus too, I suppose.) began the festivities.
He said - For The Lord shows mercy to all His children, to their bodies, their spirits and their souls, including the soul of Jonathon (he said 'Yo-na-tahn') ben Macabi, beloved son of Rachel and Michael, who left this world with a good name. May The Spirit of The Lord grant him Heavenly rest among all the holy and forgiven. So may it be. And let us say 'amen.'......
After that, I did not listen. Funerals are for the earthly. Though I did make my presence known to Sarah and all who mourned.
When the service was over, two functionaries from the cemetery lifted the marble covering and sealed it back in place. Sarah, as surviving spouse 'assisted.' The rabbi lead them in the first Kaddish Prayer, for the peaceful repose of my soul. Some of the familiars said polite things to Sarah. She put an arrangement of cherry blossoms (Jonathon liked them) in a little holder under his niche. Then the man with the flashlight lead them back to the cars and they left. The rabbi had his own car. It had to be an unnerving experience for him. And I said some prayers on his behalf as well.
Sarah, Edith and Baylah rode with Baylah's gentleman friend. I think Leo went with them too. He had a limousine, not a big one, just a regular limousine. The 'familiars' and other mortals had their own cars.
Back at the townhouse, they all symbolically washed their hands with water from a little pitcher left on the front steps (an affirmation of life) and went inside. A woman in from the Jersey Pines to help Edith, had tea and vodka, even beef bullion, for the night-folk and sandwiches, cake and other things for the mortals. The elferinos and elferinas came just a bit later with flowers. I think they bought them at an all night supermarket. Edith put them in vases and placed them around the house.
That's it. Not so different. Faith doesn't die. Night-folk (vampires), and please know I speak of 'noble' vampires, not the rarer 'noxious' types, tend to maintain the beliefs of their mortal life.
So long as we kill not indiscriminately and 'cull' only the wicked, God understands.
We've always been here. And I mean always. Perhaps we are angels of death, or maybe we pick up the slack?
Some Piney people came for Little Joe. They recovered Pig Blood Annie's body and took her home for rites of their own. Our 'familiars' helped with that. And the interior of The Academy of Music is as it was.
But Peter's still out there and he still has the baby...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click HERE to see all episodes.
click THERE to join me on Twitter.
please leave COMMENTS. thank you.
Don't say 'Rest in peace.' That is not how it its. That is not what we do. The World To Come is not another place. It is not a break from where you are, but an elaboration, an out growth, a wider view. I see that now. I know it. We rest here. We learn here and we work, bearing truth to all. We are muse. We bring clarity. All hear, though few listen.
And I am not Tomas. I am Jonathon. I am home. All are home here, even atheists... For by their deeds ye shall know them. Am I absolved? No. Those I've harmed will get their day. And I will know their pain. But that will pass and I shall be released. That is my absolution and it is yet to come, or at least I must explain it that way. Time is another thing here. For I will also confront they who have harmed me. And I shall forgive them all.
Oh, but the view is beautiful. Golden Cordoba, awash in the late day sun. I see with such precision. I hear a million prayers.... in Hebrew, Aramaic, Latin and Old Arabic... All creeds, but one faith. For the purpose of revealed religion is to make us better people. Those that do less are false.
And The World To Come has many 'chapels.' There are equally splendid places for every other 'ism' in Creation. Please note that I said 'Creation' and not Earth. For the righteous of all groups shall share in The World To Come.
Why did I 'die' that other night? Some souls ask that. I feel it. I hear it. But even I don't know... not for sure anyway. Perhaps such things are just ordained? Perhaps I secretly wanted to?
They say there are unicorn here. Other things too. I know not all the names. Maybe I'll see them.
And in the City of Philadelphia, on the narrow, cobbled street, the red brick townhouse is quiet. Sarah sits in the little morning room off the kitchen with my old, leather-bound copy of La Ciencia Vampirismo in her lap. She knows some Spanish. But it is in Old Spanish and Old Vahmperigo too. Perhaps a scholar at the Penn Museum will help her? They knew me there. Someone will assist her.
Doctor Franklin is there. He sits in the kitchen with Baylah and Leo. Edith serves tea. The two conservatively dressed gentlemen in the family room are 'familiars.' One is a financial adviser. The other a lawyer. Their wives, strictly speaking, are not 'familiars.' I don't know how they feel about night-folk. But they're polite and respectful. The taller woman gave Sarah a book, 'The Half Left Behind,' a guide to grief for the surviving spouse. The little one brought 'schnechen,' small, cookie-like pastries wrapped up in a pretty box. Probably stopped on the way and ran into a gourmet bakery. I think I know the one. Little Joe's still there. He went to see a show this afternoon. Some musical. I don't know which one. Then he had shepherd's pie at The Irish Pub. Says he did it in honor of Pig Blood Annie, his late wife and my co-victim. He wants to go to the zoo, in honor of her too... and maybe have drinks in honor of her at that new place on top of The Hotel Monaco.
They're going to have a service. Some 'familiar' arranged for a niche at Laurel Hill. Not a small, architecturally distinct (up to a point) private mausoleum, like Billy blogged about a few weeks ago. This is a nice, classically simple, long, marble hall. My urn will go in seven slots from the south entrance, right hand side and fourth up from the floor. They say that's a good spot. Right above a dead gentleman who once owned a trucking company and right below the wife of a circus clown. The clown's still alive, or 'in the flesh,' as we say over here.
Edith scraped up my remains. Most of you know what happens. Dead vampires spontaneously ignite into what we call a 'cold' blue flame. Still warm. Hot actually, just not burning. We just call it that. Big, pale, flake-like ashes rise up from the fire and waft into space, sublimating through floors, ceilings and roofs til they do. I 'died' on the roof, so that sublimating part wasn't necessary. She took a little hand spade from the tiny kitchen garden out back, gathered up what was left... some grease... a few bits and pieces... and reverently put it all into a decorative, little can that once held sachet. Lavender, I think. Fitting when you consider how 'life-eaters' (vampires) like aroma candles. And the lid does snap on tight, but Laurel Hill has rules, so they'll transfer me into a goblet, or chalice-like bronze vessel with a professionally sealed top.... a genii in a bottle that no one will ever rub, except maybe an archaeologist when they excavate the place sometime in the future.
They're going to have the service tomorrow night. It has to be after dark. You know, vampires and all. I'm sure the elferinos and elferinas will be there. Odd to think that my assassin is one of them. A flawed specimen, but elferino nonetheless. Though he is not important.... I suppose dogwoods and other early blooms will be out. That will be nice. Baylah said the male singer from her piano bar will sing. I heard her say it. I Shall Be Released, I think it is.
I like that.
Now please let me go. I want to hover around Sarah. I think she knows I'm here.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click HELLO to see all our episodes.
click CHERRY SODA to join me on Twitter.
and if you want to read a good column, google THE FIX by Vicki Abelson, famed L.A. producer of noted entertainment/literary salons, or google THE HYBRID SERIES by popular London author Andrew Harding for an escape into very believable paranormal, British crime. also, don't forget celebrated film director and actor, Eli Roth's new HORROR app and site FEAR THE CRYPT. click Twitter.com/fearthecrypt that'll get you there.
please leave a COMMENT. thank you.
I will channel this. It's only fitting. We were together when it all started, so I should be here now. Jonathon knows me. He trusts me. I am Johannon, his servant and companion. At least I was during his mortal days.
That which you call 'magic' is not constant. It rises and falls like the tides. Sometimes it vanishes altogether. I suppose last night was one of those times.
The thing, the elferino known as 'Peter' caught him. Sarah tried. She did. She dug her nails in under the skeletal claws and attempted to pull them off. But every time she touched the bones her hands burst into flames. And the thing pinched off chunks of flesh and devoured them. Tomas trembled. He tried to sublimate... through the floor... up to the boxes... anywhere. But at this time and in that place he could not do it.
When he tried to speak the thing grabbed his tongue. Skeletal finger tips are very sharp, you know. (Primitive fisher-folk used them as spear points. They worked very well). And he tore it out by the root. Tomas groaned. ... It was odd watching the thing eat. He slurped it all up and chewed. But where did it go? But for the eyes, the skeleton had no parts. Though as he ate 'tissue' materialized on the ivory frame . Pink,wet, elastic membranes stretched across the ribs. And ghost-like, gristly tubes, perhaps two, ran down from the neck to a roiling knot of guts.
Through it all the four or five faint, silvery ghosts did nothing. They just sat... And I can't be sure they were even aware of it all. Maybe their minds saw something else?.... But the thing called 'Peter' is essentially an elferino. And an elferino is nothing but a slight, pubescent vampire, so then he went for the neck... a partially flesh covered corpse, like a living representation of a plastic, 'Invisible Man' toy from your nineteen sixties, though much more ambulatory and hungry. Tomas' eyelids fluttered. Sarah whimpered. She crawled over and cradled his head. The thing let her do that. A strange Pieta, composed of not just a victim and mourner, but the Grim Reaper as well..... While a few yards up the aisle a multitude of blue-black, metallic horse flies covered the body of the 'born' witch, Pig Blood Annie, and worked a little blood 'sucking' magic of their own. Actually, in the darkness, the electric hum was more apparent than the sight, but their rigid, insect bodies did reflect a bit of light... thousands of swarming demons in the dark.
Although 'young,' Tomas was still a full vampire. Elferinos, even monstrous evil ones, can't hold all that blood, so the thing just stopped. And Tomas might have fared better had it ended there. But Peter took the heart as well. Just pulled it out from under the rib-cage. How the connective tissues and blood vessels SNAPPED. Then he stuffed it up under his own sternum. After that, Tomas didn't move at all. Sarah didn't either.
The elferino, Peter, more or less fully reconstituted, got up, straightened his clothes (an outfit was part of the magic too), turned around and left, walking up the aisle, toward the lobby. When he neared the exit, the nine or ten months old 'born' witch, Pig Blood Annie's 'grandbaby,' Boopsie, flew out of the darkness and into his arms. He cradled her. She gurgled. They left.
Sarah was afraid to move. She sat there in the shadows, on the dense patterned rug, between the first row and the orchestra pit, holding the upper portion of Jonathon's tortured body (that's the name I know) on on her lap. The 'man in the box' quietly mumbled in the dark, while one by one the ghosts in the seats slowly vanished.
Then just before dawn the doors opened again. Sarah jumped (apparently she'd fallen asleep or lost consciousness), as Baylah and her mortal boyfriend hurried down the aisle. They had a few 'familiars' with them. No one said a word. Someone wrapped Tomas (also known as Jonathon) in a blanket. Baylah helped Sarah get up and made her drink a tiny vial of blood. It fortified her. But after that she began to cry. Then they hurried up toward the door, went into the dim, gas-lit lobby and out an inconspicuous side entrance. A small paneled van waited. They entered and left.
Edith cried when they brought him in. Doctor Franklin was there too. Leo and Billy just sat in the family room and didn't say a word. Sarah broke down. She scratched at her neck til the blood ran like sweat and cried - Here! Here! I'll save him! I'll save him!.... Doctor Franklin,( the old scientist) just shook his head. Baylah looked up. Edith looked up. They all hoped. But the wispy haired gentleman explained - He has no heart. It won't grow back. The blood has to move. Even vampire blood has to move. And I can't tell you why. It carries no oxygen. That's just how it is. It can't just pool in his legs. When he dries out. When there's no moisture left. When the last bloody residue is gone he'll die...... (silence) Now, do you want that to happen down here in the dark, or upstairs on the roof? Please, let him at least have the light...... Will he be able to see it? - whispered Edith..... A bit - said Doctor Franklin
So they gently carried him up to the flat portion of the roof toward the back of the house, where none could see and laid him down on quilts. Sarah managed to keep it together. She covered him with the thick, down comforter from their sleeping chamber and tucked it in around his body. Then she kissed him. His eyelids fluttered. ..... They all said prayers. But the vampires left with the first blush of dawn, though Edith and Billy stayed with him. They said he seemed to sigh and smile, as the sunlight kissed his face and God took back his soul.
If my recounting of this sad event seemed dry and clinical, please know I just want to be accurate. An almost thousand year old presence died tonight.... an abiding decent light is gone........ at least from this plain of existence....
But know that he sits in the warm yellow sun of Al Andalus even now.
The red brick townhouse, on the narrow cobbled street will endure. The long clock in the hall will chime. The hardwoods will still gleam. Sarah and the others will take care of this house.
And the almost angelic, night-folk of Philadelphia will go on.
If you didn't listen to the music before... please listen to it now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click browse.feedreader.com/c/Billy_Kravitz_vampire_wonderland to see all episodes.
click Twitter.com/wilkravitz to join me on that site.
please leave a COMMENT. thank you.
Pig Blood Annie cried too. She said - Don't worry, baby girl. I'm here. I'm Here. I'M HERE!..... But there was a sharp pulse through the air, like an ethereal shock wave. When it passed, the elferino known as Peter was there at the back of the house, still as a statue. Yet they heard his voice. And he said - SO AM I!!... With that the seemingly pubescent figure slowly made his way down the aisle. As he did the flesh bubbled and frothed all over his body like a pink, bloody spume, hard to see in the darkness, but visible nonetheless. The watery slop ran down his skull, over his shoulders and onto the carpet, where it boiled for a heartbeat or two before disappearing into the neat, dense pile. Only the eyes remained, two, cold, wet 'things' staring straight ahead. He passed by a ghost, or two, but the shadowy figures did nothing.
Then the 'born' witch (that's Pig Blood Annie in case you're new) just groaned.... Tomas and Sarah followed her gaze and looked up. The 'man in the box' was gone. So was the child in his arms, though the huge chandelier swung ever so slightly. The crystals jingling like laughter.
The vampires retreated to that space between the first row of seats and the orchestra. Sarah wanted to run, but her legs wouldn't move. So Tomas stood by her, watching as the witch lunged at the skeletal form, her fists clenched over her head, a virago she-bear, footsteps pounding desperate to save her grandbaby. Just before contact the bony 'marionette' that was Peter raised his left arm and pointed, cracking through her breast-bone, piercing the heart and shattering the spine before casting her off, a quivering mound of ruined flesh, wedged in the narrow space between two rows of seats. And then he came for the vampires. The magicians and alchemists of Old Istanbul taught him well.
The elferino craved the blood. He wanted its power and strength. And Tomas was the blood. Now it might have happened differently. He might have willingly joined in communion with this far removed off-spring..... But this 'twig' was 'blighted' and unfit for the gift...
Tomas held his ground (Sarah cowered behind him) and waited for what would come.......
And the gilt figures adorning the walls and arches of this place looked down.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click IVORY to browse all episodes.
click SILVER to join me on Twitter.
please COMMENT. thank you.
No one made a sound. The baby just kicked her feet and gurgled. The 'born' witch didn't know what to do. She wanted that grandbaby, but spirits and night-things can be tricky. They form chains. They link together and many a complacent opponent winds up spending eons in a cockroach gut or being eternally chomped up by hungry hogs.
She turned toward Tomas, but he didn't know what to do either and Sarah was too new, though she did run that book shop. Read most of the stock. Picked up a lot. Slowly leans over and whispers - We should talk. We have to keep whatever it is talking. .... Witch goes - What if it's a demon? You never talk to demons...... Tomas says - It's not a demon. He's been here since the beginning. He's a ghost. Believe me I know this place very well.
The still, translucent figure dangling the baby over the edge of the box was silent. But the being behind him, the evil elferino, Peter, spoke..... Give me your power - he said..... What power? Whose power? Who do you mean? - said Sarah..... Shut that thing up - he said... And the ghost, the 'man in the box' leaned out a tiny bit more..... How strange it seemed to hear a baby, even a witch baby, go 'bah bah bah bah bah bah bah' in that dark, ancient, haunted space. The painted gold figures adorning certain nooks and crannies smiled at the absurdity of it. Some cracked their necks and turned their heads for a better view.
Tomas knew the elferino meant him, or maybe even the 'born' witch. But he had to think..... Then they heard the voice again..... Give me what I want. Just give me what I want! - he said... The body might be that of a twelve year old. But being welded in that cask gave him lots of time to think. And the soul wasn't that age anymore..... The witch quietly said - I think he wants me..... Tomas motioned for her to stop. Then he addressed the elferino again.... Give me time to prepare - he said...... The juvenile vampire thing up above answered - Do you know who I am, Tomas de Macabea, or Jonathon ben Macabi?..... Tomas just bowed his head and sat there, as the elferino went on - Do you remember the pit? Do you remember the loathsome place where you were 'changed,' the rocky depression far back in that oozing cave? Well, it's legendary in my family. There were two terrified girls down there with you. One for her blood and one for her womb. An ancestor of mine was the later. A life-eater law. See! I know the proper term. I know the laws. If at all possible, the mortal line must go on. Yours did. Sarah came from that line. You know that. (Tomas took Sarah's hand)Well, I did too. And now I want my birthday present. GIVE ME THE BLOOD!.....
Tomas exhaled and said - Give us the baby..... Pig Blood Annie, the 'born' witch, the baby's grandmother whispered - I'm gonna throw a hoo-doo. I gotta do something. I don't care.... But he shook his head and she saw the look in his eyes.
The elferino didn't respond, not with words. But the ghost, the 'man in the box' passed out through the solid balustrade with the baby clutched to his spectral chest and sailed off to a resting place just under the great chandelier, like a macabre finial, or some fiendish decoration.
And the evil elferino said - Well?
But down on the floor, in the 'orchestra' as it were, certain things began to happen. Here and there, scattered among the seats, 'thickenings' began to coalesce out of the darkness.... Not many, but some. A feminine form there... What seems to be a man here. Dust motes dance about them like silver. People die in theaters, you know, especially in grand opera houses. The scores are very emotional. It happens. The Academy of Music has it's share. Most nights they sleep, or walk about aimlessly. The guards hear noises. They know. But sometimes when a good drama plays out they don't sleep.... Tonight was one of those times.
Then the baby began to cry...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click CREAKY FLOOR BOARD to browse all episodes.
click SHADOW PEOPLE to join me on Twitter.
please grace us with your COMMENTS. thank you.
I know you probably saw this before. It did go viral, but the material is legendary. Some claim it heals sickness and restores faith. The vampirino we know as Tomas de Macabea considers it positively Biblical. And if you know our world, you know how he feels about Scripture. So listen to it before you read this, or after. It won't hurt. guaranteed.
AND NOW THE EPISODE~~~~~
The taxi pulls up to the curb, right in front of this most venerable edifice. Tomas, Sarah and the 'born' witch (still in Laura Linney mode) get out. She (the witch) breathes into the palm of her hand, where a large, glittering diamond slowly materializes. They regard it a moment. Then she raps on the window. The all-in-one-piece and resurrected driver opens it. Witch hands it to him and says - Here, for your trouble... He takes it, stares incredulously, looks at the witch and drives off. Then they ran up the red granite steps and sublimated through the original glass and gilt doors into the Second Empire grandeur of Philadelphia's 'La Scala' The Academy of Music. All was quiet. The oldest continuously operating grand opera house in thee Imperial Republic of The United states of America slept soundly. A 'dark' night.... A 'down' night.... Locked tight and guarded by the best digital security 'presence' gold can buy. Too bad science is so physical.
Tomas lead the way through large burnished doors into the lobby, dark, save for tiny, flickering bits of illumination dancing on the wicks of rare and meticulously maintained gas lights. Fire protection was first rate too. He walked to the middle of the space, held up a hand and whispered 'sleep.' Then he turned to the witch, who nodded in agreement and wherever they might be throughout the cavernous 'wedding cake' the guards all drifted off, secure in their slumber til dawn. He pushed open a door, turned to the others and said - Shall we? And they entered into the almost completely dark (security lights only here), jewel box interior of this vast cathedral of the arts. Tiers of boxes rose to the heavens and even in the gloom the three ton chandelier reflected bits of light. Tomas just stood there and took it all in. He said - The thing happens here... Sarah went - Shhh, Whisper. Your voice sounds so loud...... He said - And you feel like we're not alone?.... She nodded. Even the powerful witch looked concerned.... So he did whisper and said - Maybe we should sit down. Best in the house, by today's standards. Front and center? Shall we, ladies?..... They silently tip toed down the center aisle, took off their furs, laying them across nearby seats and sat down. Two heartbeats later the lush, dark pelts disassembled, becoming living minks (or perhaps they were sables?) and slithered up, over and under the rows before disappearing into the ether. The witch whispered - Shit! I hate when that happens....... Then they heard a low, barely audible voice up above. The demure vampirina and even the witch jumped, twisting 'round to scan the darkness behind them. Tomas stood up and turned toward the looming shadows. Three tiers above, maybe four, a dull, white gleam shone in the darkness. A face, or what can only have been a face, looked down from a box. It mumbled something and pointed. Then evaporated into the blackness....... Tomas whispered - Behold, the man in the upper box. A cadaverous presence. Been here since the beginning. And no one knows who he is. I sat next to him once. During La Traviata, I think. Eighteen fifty seven. He frequents the narrow, little dark, empty space at the back of the boxes. They say his body's still here. Can you imagine what the prop rooms are like? Sarah, are you alright?..... I'm alright. And I've seen Johannon and the boy in the cellar, I think, but they're 'our' ghosts. This is different - she whispered... The witch just said - Look, you bastards, when do I get my baby? When does he get here... And she was beginning to veer off 'Laura Linney' mode toward her true, repulsive self.
The dead presence, the man in the box leaned out again. This time he just laughed, although the face never changed. And the galaxy of crystals on the huge chandelier tinkled ominously.
Then another voice broke the darkness... Peter's voice. And he said - We're already here.....
That's when Boopsie cried... an innocent, little, baby wail, as the long, abiding, white faced, expressionless entity held her out over the void.
Ghosts don't often do that...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click SPIRITS to browse all episodes.
click NIGHT WHISPER to join me on Twitter.
please leave a COMMENT. thank you.
Some 'Atmosphere' And Back Story Leading Up To A Pivotal Night-Folk Confrontation
<watch the video>
The evil elferino known as Peter prepared to descend from the heights. A thousand feet is nothing to accomplished fliers, especially one trained at Topkapi. How he missed the incense and perfumes of that place. The artistry of Sinan. Friday devotions at Haiga Sophia, premiere religious sanctuary in The See of Abraham (encompassing the Abrahamic or <in order of appearance> Hebrew-
Christian-Muslim world). So he stood up, held the baby close, cradling her little head by his neck, stepped onto the barrier ....(how high... the city alight... from river to river... from The Schuylkill to The Delaware... stage set for America's nativity) surveyed the glittering towers, leaned forward and fell, shimmering into invisibility, as he and the little one drifted down to the sidewalk. There was a reception at The Comcast Center that night. Limousines bled glitterati all over the street. Tight-necked, capped toothed matrons (skin re-upholstery is a wonderful thing) and their steel haired, orange 'tanned' tuxedo clad husbands. Let me tell you, money changes everything. And no one noticed a discretely materializing elferino ('little brother' in the vampirino world), as he made his way through the crowd, holding the baby safe.
For a time they just walked, spreading the scent, if you will. Tomas would find them. Night-folk know their own. The 'born' witch might sense Boopsie. After all, they're family. Blood will tell. But there was time. The night was young. So he took the baby into a yuppie supply house on Walnut Street and walked out with a state of the art stroller and a handmade stroller blanket too. Tags were still on it. But an elferino magician, trained in the Ottoman Court, is well versed in the art of obfuscation, so tags don't mean a God damned thing. And even though the alarm went off, no one ever heard.
He took the baby into a Waffle Shop, got a booth toward the back, ordered silver dollar pancakes, low sugar apple juice in a restaurant supplied sippy-cup, a scrambled egg to top it off and an iced tea for himself. Baby's eat a lot. Baby witchlings are no different. So he cut everything into tiny pieces, topped with the requisite butter and syrup and she ate. Warm food and a full belly spreads the scent.
Later, back out on the street, he picked up something. The taxi with the technically decapitated driver (see OLDER POST down below) was close by. They danced about each other, he and the baby, the taxi and the rest, spiraling in toward a certain meeting spot. The video, up above, will give you a clue. Well, more than a clue. 'X' marks the spot, America's oldest, continuously operating, grand opera house, Philadelphia's Academy of Music... The Grand Old Lady of Locust Street, holding court amidst The Avenue of The Arts. It's empty tonight. The vast, three thousand seat sister to La Scala is dark. But the ghosts are there. And soon an assortment of night-folk will be too.
Tomas loves the place and has since opening night... more than one hundred and sixty years ago...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click MADAMA BUTTERFLY to browse all episodes.
click LA TRAVIATA to join me on Twitter.
please leave a COMMENT. thank you.
Posts
