No music tonight... Not that kind of a night. Jonathon knew they were all against him. It wasn't anything personal...just politics. Oh, there might have been a time... maybe a night or two, or a speech or two when they were willing to listen. That's how it always is. They let you have a chance, but know ahead of time that your ticket ain't the winning ticket.
Nobody was threatening, or violent. They just didn't care. Former Ancient Roman Emperor, at one time considered a fine, altruistic statesman, Marcus Aurelius, led a group up to the fifth floor smoking room for cigars and brandy. Vampires prefer more clarified spirits, like vodka, or gin. I guess they had some of that too. Besides, that non-decomposing zombie (at best) ain't even a real vampire anyway.
Our vampire hero sat on a leather upholstered bench in the entrance hall for a while. A footman offered him some chilled grappa, but he just shook his head and waved him away. After a five minutes or so, he got up, put on his jacket and went out. How quiet it was, the first truly chill night of the year... down to the low fifties (about 11C).The streets were nearly deserted. Clubs and bars let out over an hour ago. A few congregated in pancake joints and coffee shops... no huge, naked, plate glass windows anymore. Night-Hawks are security conscious these days. Jonathon might have gone in to talk. He often did. Drank a plain hot tea, as he observed all the people. But not tonight. Tonight he just walked.
He saw the occasional put upon worker, plodding on toward some thankless job, or perhaps a homeless woman dragging all her tattered belongings in a two wheeled, squeaking, market cart. Most nights he slipped them money. Made up these little rolls of hundred dollar bills before he went out... ten to a roll... one thousand dollars in each. That night he had none, so he just walked.
Now this is real early Monday morning we're talking about. Say 4AM. Early risers ain't up 'cause it's Columbus Day. Lot a people have off, so they sleep late and get up for, let's say, The Price Is Right, or How Dumb Is Your In-Laws?. Vampire like Jonathon can almost hear 'em snoring. But tomorrow night starts The Service of Atonement and Reconciliation, Yom Kippur, and you know how he gets. Sometimes he sits for hours in the little library at his townhouse listening to records of old hymns, prayers and cantorials for hours. Edith, the witchy-woman housekeeper calls it his 'holy roller' time. He's not home, so he heads for the old Rite of Spain (Sephardic) synagogue where he sometimes prays near the Old Statehouse (Independence Hall). A lot a stuff got 'old' in front of it 'round there. But not 'ye olde.' I think that's somewhere else. I think that means fake old stuff. This is real old stuff.
Jonathon sublimates right in when he gets there. Place is all locked up and dark. Night watchman sits in an unmarked, black car. Sometimes he parks out front. Sometimes he drives 'round the back, or walks up the alleyways. Looks like a Quaker Meeting House, if you've ever seen one of them, red brick and all. Our vampire friend solidifies, covers his head with a black prayer cap from the wooden box and enters the sanctuary. Only light comes from the Eternal Flame and that's not much. Jonathon takes a seat in one of the pews. Can't read a prayer book. Too dark, even for vampire eyes. But he doesn't need one. Knows 'em all by heart. Old Rabbi de Solis is already sittin' there. He been dead since before the Alamo. Not a ghost. Passed over to The World To Come, but shows up to pray with them what needs it. Jonathon remembers him from the old days. Vampire whispers - Why are people so small minded?... Rabbi goes - You're not... Then they just sit there.
Looks like Doctor Franklin and his crew gonna win. His comely, Korean, vampire gal gone in to where that Pacific Rim country keep their 'Great Leader.'
Leader look happy.... Dumb shit...
Don't he know he gonna die?
<more next time>
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This isn't a Vampire Wonderland episode, just something I like and want to talk about. If you read all or part of the EL RANCHO TEXACO story-arc on here you know what it is. I'm talking about the settling of Mars and what kind of culture I'd like to see for the place. No dry government issue, green metal desks and furniture for me, or whatever passes for that junk a little later on in the 21st century. I want a continuation of the last time we settled so much new territory. I want an homage to The Old West. Sure it'll be a little terra-formed by then... a bit more moisture... maybe some varieties of Mars-appropriate sage grass... river-like canals... Dust Devils dancin' on the flatlands. And all dressed up with Old West place names like Durango, Hole In The Wall, Silver City, Shiloh and Dancin' Lady. Rivers (they DO have some) called The Yellow Ribbon, Red Snake River, The Little Egypt... You get the picture. Land holdings will be called ranches and the roads knitting it all together will have names like El Camino Real, The Lewis & Clark Highway (called the L.C.)... Buses 'tween settlements will be called stages. Space craft toting, settlers out Mars Way will be named after the Great Western Train Lines... The Union Pacific... THE POTOWATOMI Express...and the legendary ATCHISON TOPEKA & THE SANTA FE If they do Mars up like this. If it don't have no 'numbers' for road names. If they let the place have romance and atmosphere, they'll get it all peopled up in no time. Wouldn't you like to have your own little South Fork on a world like that... or maybe a Ponderosa? The West will live again.... if we let it. Much obliged if y'all would COMMENT. Tell folks how you feel. If you want to share on TWITTER, click THE BIG COUNTRY ... That's it.... Something to think about...
The newly minted, comely, Korean, vampire girl, fresh from Doctor Franklin's Annex , made her way down the long, massive, granite lined hallway. Every surface was covered in polished stone, like a huge rectangular, never-ending seam, mined to fashion grave stones. Who knew where the light came from, or the air? Everything was grand, in a style come to be called 'Mussolini-Fascist-Modern. Her data was in order. The people at the Annex are experts, in fact they trained the experts. All was as it should be. The Leader would ask no questions. She was there as a 'special assistant.' He'd had many special assistants. There were countless episodes, each quite pleasurable. Should any prove less than satisfactory, the girl in question would either be sent to the mines, or 'food stations' (huge prison farms) for re-education, which meant she'd be there till she died. Some were thrown to the pigs, (they're omnivorous, don't you know) but that was very rare.
After progressing down the almost featureless hallway for quite a while, she neared what appeared to be a dark, doorway shaped opening... The newly minted vampire assassin stopped and peered inside. The blackness seemed to go on forever. But six heartbeats later she heard a voice. It said - Enter... that's all... just one word... 'Enter.'..... So she did.
Then someone flipped a switch... and it wasn't so much that a light came on, as the dark was turned off, revealing a medium sized stark, white room with a white, rectangular table and a late middle aged , bobbed haired woman with an unsmiling demeanor and deep naso-labial lines. Did we mention she wore a white lab coat and there wasn't any door? Well, she did and there wasn't.
The woman said - Remove all garments and drop them onto floor. Do not fear. Condemned for life laborers keep it scrupulously clean.... The vampire girl just blinks and stands there for a moment.... She who has deep naso-labial lines says - Failure to obey will result in the amputation of finger. Choice is mine. And finger-chopping will go on till complete obedience is achieved yadda yadda yadda..... Please, permit this one to address She Who Is So Willing To DisFinger Me - went the vampire-girl.... Yes? - said the woman in the white lab coat..... How is it you know the term 'yadda yadda yadda?' - asked the vampire-girl. Ours is a closed and perfect society. Where did that come from?.... The woman with the bobbed hair shrugged and retrieved a large, polished pair of finger-shears from a here-to-fore unseen drawer... The newly minted vampire-assassin did not want any problems, so she complied.
Soon after she endured the most invasive body cavity examination on the Pacific Rim. The woman used stainless steel, magnetic tipped insertion rods. She was a virtuoso. She had to be. In case of failure, her fingers would be sheared off.
How did the comely, Korean, girl vampire pass the oral exam, you know, with her fangs and all?
In good time, oh best beloveds... In good time.
While back in Philadelphia, when Jonathon returned to the symposium at the former British Consulate, he saw some strange faces among the crowd. They met his gaze and studied him in a very cold and mercenary manner. Some shook hands with the non-decomposing zombie that was Marcus Aurelius, who gave a short, curt nod to our vampire hero from across the room.
Jonathon wondered who the newcomers were, but he had some ideas. Night-folk instinctively know things...
<more next time>
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I just dropped this laptop. Jonathon came running in here like a maniac and threw up in the toilet. Not the toilet upstairs... the one in the nice, little powder room off the front foyer.. It's got classic, Chinese grass paper wall paper and everything. He didn't go back to the British Consulate where all the other paranormal types are staying. Just tore through the city and came back here. Ran for three miles.
Edith (their Jersey Pine Barrens 'Witchy Woman' housekeeper) runs out from the family room yelling - What's the matter!? What's the matter!?... I tell her I don't know, but he's retching. He's in there with his head over the toilet throwing up dark, brown-purple sludge (who knows how long THAT'S been in his stomach?) all over the 'no touch' designer commode and the inlaid, quartz tile floor... Edith mumbles - God, I hope that doesn't stain..... She peeks into the powder room. He's sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, gasping for breath and vampires don't really NEED oxygen, so you know he's really upset.... Edith goes - Jonathon, are you all right?..... He goes - Leave me alone. Just leave me alone. Close the door. I just want to sit here. OK? Close the door.... She goes - You want me to get you a cold vodka?.... He yells - CLOSE THE DOOR! (micro second later) Yes! Get me the vodka....
She hustles into the kitchen..... I stand there. I don't know what to do. I'm afraid to move. He goes - Bill, are you still out there?.... I go - Yeah?.... He goes - I'm sorry if I scared you. I didn't mean it. I didn't..... He still fights to catch his breath..... I go - That's alright... He doesn't answer. Edith comes back with a big, ice-filled glass of vodka. I think it's Finlandia. They have all kinds. Somebody from a huge liquor supermarket over the bridge in Jersey sends them.... Edith sticks her arm through the opening and hands him the glass. She goes - Here. Drink it.... Then she watches. She makes a face. Let me tell you. Vampire vomit has a real memorable aroma. I can't see in, but I hear. He goes glug, glug, glug. She takes the glass. Then he starts to cry.
A little bit later, after he takes a shower and changes, we're all sitting in the den. Sarah's not back yet. Must be like 4AM. Still at least two hours till dawn... maybe two and a half. The room's dim. It's always dim around here. They don't like a lot of light. Nobody talks. I sit there with the laptop waiting to take it all down. After five years, I'm like a symbiotic organism with that laptop...Not the same one I started with, though..... Edith plays a quiet game of Solitaire. Jonathon looks at the little, blue, porcelain, Chinese dog like he's hypnotized by it. The tall clock in the hall chimes. Goes through the whole Westminster lead up before tolling the hour. That clock's a ham.
It's silent. Vampires don't mind silence either. That, I know. Then he began to speak. Edith jumped a little, because she was paying attention to her game, but I was watching him, so I didn't jump.
He goes - I didn't want to watch him feed. You know how I am. I'm not like that. But he insisted. He's a big thing with the 'Golden Dawn' people, so I got out of the car and went after him. He didn't walk like a vampire. Seemed too hurried, like he couldn't wait. Vampires, especially 'noble' ones, have more control. We don't do that. Then he got down on all fours and went right into the bushes. these are big 'yew' bushes. Some people let them grow tall and trim them like trees, but these were dense and close to the ground. Kids went in there to trade drugs, do drugs and hump each other. And it was so dark... damp too. Most of the kids were gone by then, but a few runaways slept there all night. He found a couple. They were sleeping. He carefully lifts the girl, blanket and all. Puts her down on a flat patch of dirt a little way off. She's still sleeping. He strokes her hair... whispers something in Old Latin, kneels in closer, pushes down the blankets and bites right into her throat. I can hear the trachea crack. That's so she can't scream. Then he flips her over and tears into neck, snapping her spinal chord. Was she paralyzed? Was she dead? Who knows. I hope so. For he began to rip the flesh from her bones like an animal. Gristle snaps like rubber. He chomped it down with delight. Blood ran from his chin. The dirt drank it up like wine. I don't know how many pounds of meat he took. The face was bare.. the shoulders... the arms.. the breasts... all bones. Then he chuckled, as he tenderly placed the gruesome remains where he found them, next to the 'boyfriend.' Imagine when he woke up.
Now I knew no vampire ever fed like that, even 'noxious' types. The former Roman emperor and one time honorable man was something else. He was more like a ghoul, or what they call a 'non-decomposing zombie.' But his vanity wouldn't accept that, so he was a 'vampire.' With his wealth and connections, who would say otherwise? The night-world is like that... filled with posers. Truth means nothing. Any remnant of mortal humanity they might have means nothing. Not everyone, but far too many. Thank God I am of the 'noble' sort. And those around me are 'noble' too.
Then he was done... Edith and I never said a word. We never learned what happened to the mortal limousine driver. Can you imagine when that blood soaked thing got back in the car? My guess is the 'emperor' needed him to get back to the consulate. He can't sublimate like vampires can, although he does know a fair amount of magic. Perhaps he can make himself invisible?
Jonathon just sat there till Sarah came home. Then she led him up to their sealed off sleeping chamber and that was it.
The coalition meeting at the consulate expected Jonathon to come back. How many of them knew the emperor's secret he didn't know... but the real question was how many cared?
Meanwhile, Franklin's new vampires were starting to go off on their missions. The comely Korean girl vampirina was ready to pounce...
<more next time>
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Couldn't find Jonathon and the former emperor, turned night creature (possibly some type of vampire) Marcus Aurelius, but saw this. Shared it with Conrad and Sarah and Annie and some of the other night-folk, even Baylah at the shore. They LOVE it!
Granted, our type of vampire is very different. This gentlemen is more like what they term a 'ghoul,' or possible a 'noxious' type.
You see, there are various types of night-folk and each type comes in a variety of castes. Jonathon and his crew are 'nobles.' They were carefully made and brought over... never starved. The blood lust is under control.
Ravenous vampires are usually 'noxious' types. Their creators did the deed and more or less abandoned them, or perhaps they were entombed and the experience left them insane? This state always results from some traumatic experience at the time of their transformation.
Monstrous teeth are rarely seen in the real world. Most vampires have small but keen, razor sharp fangs. Regardless of their former station in life, many vampirinos and vampirinas develop a certain cadence and style of speech. Some might find it aristocratic. This is not an affectation. Neurologists, psychiatrists, psychologists and others have studied this phenomena. There are popular theories, but as yet no definite explanation. It may be they collect and concentrate prions from every victim and these tiny bits of nucleic matter add to and alter their own cerebral make up.
A few of our night-folk think the star of this video might be a non-decomposing zombie and not a true vampire at all. Please know most types of night-folk dislike the current usage of the term 'zombie,' for the original, Caribbean- Latin American- Creole New Orleans revenants were nothing like the flesh eating monsters we see now. They had soulless, dead looking faces. They shambled along, serving as slaves to the zombie master. Legend has it, some appeared to require no sustenance at all, though they probably gnawed on something when left to their own devices.
Next time, we'll try to track down Jonathon and his limousine companion, the former emperor, who has secrets of his own. They gave us the slip. True, Jonathon enjoys the notoriety this blog provides, but certain members of THE HERMETIC ORDER OF THE GOLDEN DAWN, like the emperor, are more reticent.
I assume they returned to the British Consulate on Rittenhouse Square, but I (this is Billy) didn't see them there. They could be in one of the rooms upstairs.
I hope Doctor Franklin doesn't have them...
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Sometimes Jonathon left the meetings at the British consulate and cruised around town in one of the plain, black, Cadillac limousines. The driver was an old 'familiar.' A mortal helper and facilitator. They called him Jo-Jo. Well, everybody called him Jo-Jo, even the people around his way who didn't know about him and the vampires. But he wasn't afraid of being spotted, because the windows were smoked. Nobody could see in.
Jonathon stared at the passing scene. A girl pretended to pick up after her little doggy, but she didn't. Two teens ran out of some bodega with purloined Slim Jims. A couple from the building with the seventeen million dollar condos stood talking to their celebrity, Center City, Jersey Shore developer friend. Jonathon knew them from late nights at the bar at The Happy Rooster. Everybody turns up there.
Former Roman Emperor turned vampire, or magical entity, or whatever he was (yeah, he was in the car too) said - I always enjoy Philadelphia, one of the first planned cities since Colonia and Londinium. The specially situated squares. The narrow, little 'mews' behind the main streets. Came over with the Marquis de Lafayette. What a place this was during the Revolution. We used to dine at The Old City Tavern..... I know. I went there too - said Jonathon. Used to sit in the back room with Franklin, reinventing the world.... Did he know you were a vampire? - asked the Roman... Of course he did. That bastard knows everything. You know, The Old City Tavern's still there. Oh, it burnt down, but they always expected it to burn down, with all the open hearth cooking and the smoking and all. That's why they had detailed plans and architectural drawings. Most buildings had them. Put it back just as it was..... I know - said the former ruler. I've been to the 'new' one too. Odd that we never met.... That was Franklin's doing. He likes keeping people apart. Makes him feel stronger...... They lapse into silence. Then the emperor says - How do you think this will all play out?..... You mean will we go to 'war?' - asked Jonathon. I don't know. Look, night-folk have these dramas all the time... And sometimes there's been violence - said the emperor. We had them in Rome. When I was on the throne, when I was still strictly mortal, we had The First Lamia Rebellion. The vampires fought the early Christians for control of the catacombs..... You know, there were Jewish catacombs too? - said Jonathon... I know - went the emperor. I read National Geographic. Just in case you've read any historical accounts, I did not want to do it, but the army made me..... Made you do what? - asked Jonathon.... The crucifixions, I mean. You can tell if you examine the nails. They're army nails. The heads are different. Mine bore little 'S.P.Q.R.' impressions. Emperors were more or less constitutional in nature. We, ostensibly, acted on behalf of the senate and populace of Rome. Army nails were plain - explained the emperor. They killed all of them, seven hundred Christians and three hundred vampires. Did it at night, because of the vampires, all along the Via Appiani.... Why'd they always use that road? - asked Jonathon.... It got the most traffic, people coming in and out of the city, the I-95 of the day. When the sun came up the vampires burst into flames. You know, those blue flames? People thought we burned them. Few knew they were actual vampires. Critics often called Christians 'vampires,' because they sapped the unity and civic strength of the capital. You know how propaganda is. Plus some who were superficially acquainted with the practices of the sect misinterpreted the act of communion and that didn't help. A lot of Christians and Jews fled the city after that. They were all 'slapped with the same paint brush.' Most went to Marseilles and from there up into Gaul, or west to Hispania. Just know that I didn't do it.
The driver took them up The Benjamin Franklin Parkway and around to a wooded area behind the huge Museum of Art. Night-folk were known to take victims there. It was all arranged. Jonathon knew where they were going. Teenage lovers and homeless people sheltered under the dense hedges and bushes. It started to rain. The former emperor, Marcus Aurelius said - I know you're curious about my true nature. Come watch me feed. Then you'll know.....
Jonathon didn't say a word, but he got out of the car and followed the Roman into the trees...
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I'm at the British consulate house on Rittenhouse square with the others (Jonathon's faction)... I listen to the talks and meetings... Learned a spell or two from the magicians. I can make people who KNOW they saw me, forget that they did. I can lure animals into quietly following me. Works best with dogs and crows... probably ravens too...
Boy, do they go through a lot of absinthe. I can't drink it. It's harmful, but the magicians and vampires don't mind.
They have a singer, a girl who accompanies herself on the harp. When she's done, she just stops... freezes and stops. I never see her recline or rest. I never see her lower her arms or blink or breathe.
They feed me rich stews. Not just me. The magicians get food too. They are mortal after all, even if some claim to be more than five hundred years old.
Jonathon and Cressida (Aura's new name) are off somewhere 'renewing' their acquaintance. They give each other slow, lingering 'cat baths.'... She does him. He does her... Probably in one of the bedrooms upstairs.
I'm charged with logging all this down. It's what I've always done. There are two cats here. They have silvery coats that change color from bluish silver to russet silver to, oh, I don't know what you'd call it. They sit and listen in the meetings just like humans and dine on little cans of crab meat.
A magician-girl tells me their enchanted mortals... twins from Normandy, but that's all she knows.
I try to speak with the emperor. I try to talk to Marcus Aurelius. But he keeps his own council. The cook makes him garon sauce, a fermented fish condiment ancient Romans dote on. He smears it on bread and spreads a little on broiled meats and such. He likes hot dogs too, vile cheap ones with hog's lips and cow farts.
They're listening to a concert now... Mongolian throat singers... an ethereal sound seeming to come from two unrelated sources. The singers are conjoined twins from Ulan Bator. They're joined at the base of the spine... never see each other face to face, only reflected in mirrors.
I see a big wing chair over in a corner. It's empty. I'm going to go grab it an try to fall asleep. No one's offered me a bedroom yet. I sleep where I can. Clothes and toiletries are no trouble. A magician from Nairobi conjures them up for me. Right now I have on a hip length, long sleeved, fitted tunic that fastens with little bone toggles and slim, legging-like pants such as Persian noblemen wore in the thirteenth century. I'm shod in fine, dark purple leather mid-calf boots. My underwear and socks are fairly normal. Oh, the tunic and pants are deep olive green and made from a roughly woven silk The magician offered me a turban. I turned it down. No turbans. I don't do turbans.
I'm going to take two accent pillows from a sofa and go commandeer that wing chair. That throat singer music is hypnotic. I'll be asleep in no time.
The enchanted human cats are watching me. I wonder what they think... cat thoughts, or human?
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