Bride of Blood:: First Kiss (10 page)

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“That star is so beautiful,” she said pointing to it.
 
“I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve looked at it over our lifetimes.”
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Anton followed her finger and gazed up at the same star.
 
“The name of that star is Velara.
 
It’s very close to us.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“Velara,” she repeated.
 
“I love that name.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“It’s our star, my love,” he whispered in her ear.
 
“And it was what I shall call you.
 
Lady Velara.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
She closed her eyes, again.
 
The smell of Anton’s feverishly warm flesh filled her with excitement and for the first time in her life, contentment.
 
She couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
 
She knew that Anton would take care of her and show her how to survive.
 
She would look after her family, and hopefully locate her daughter.
 
She also planned to continue working with Anton and other abolitionists to end slavery.
 
She relished the thought of killing and consuming the bounty hunters who brought pain and misery to her people.
 
But for now she wanted to relearn to love Anton as she had in so many other lives past.
 
And she wanted to relearn how to read and write.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“I feel a warmth,” she told him, shifting in his arms.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“Yes, it is the coming day,” he explained, “soon we will sleep.
 
For we cannot be out in the daylight.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
She nodded, “I will not miss the day.
 
Daylight always means suffering and drudgery for me.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“Then let us be off,” Anton said as they both stood up.
 
“We will retire for the day and then hunt, my sweet child of the night.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
She took his hand and followed him deep into the woods.
 
There would be a fine cabin that let in no light for them.
 
As they walked away, Velara looked at Anton and remembered a time when they walked like this on the Nile and later on the Danube.
 
She felt the emptiness and void in her heart cease as she knew that she had at last reunited with her soulmate.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Anton sighed as he came back to himself.
 
Persephone was at his leg and was rubbing against him.
 
He looked down at the sweet creature and picked her up.
 
Almost immediately she began to purr and did the “floppy cat” in his arms.
 
He stroked her gently.
 
Her love for him, her unconditional love, fell upon him like an ocean wave.
 
“Why can’t women be as sweet and as loyal as pets?” Anton asked her bitterly.
 
She looked up at him as if she understood, but could only meow.
 
He sat back in his chair, Persephone still in his arms, and began to daydream again.
 
He thought of the Duke and one of the lessons that he’d taught about love.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“Remember, Anton,” The Duke instructed him as they sat on top of a large building in Bergan.
 
“We see love differently than mortals do.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“How so, master?”
 
Anton asked.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“For them marriage is a union of ‘til death do us part’. But we don’t have that luxury.
 
Therefore marriage in the traditional sense is not practiced by our kind.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Anton nodded and looked at the full moon.
 
Bergen was a beautiful city at night, and the view from atop that building was breathtaking.
 
The sounds of the city that mortals couldn’t hear would have made them mad.
 
Anton was able to tune out those that didn’t matter.
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“Now you will find love someday,” The Duke assured him.
 
“However, remember that monogamy is also a mortal dilemma.
 
We are not bound by expectations such as those.
 
You will have several lovers in your long life, as I have, but don’t be surprised if they or even you get bored and want to move on.
 
We are not pack creatures nor are we bound by familiar laws.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Anton nodded again and smiled.
 
Even in his mortal life he had no desire to be wed and now that he was a vampire, he was even more adamant about it.
 
Still the prospect of love and love-making sounded alright.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Anton got up and blew out the light.
 
He gently walked over to Persephone’s basket and placed her in it.
 
She had already fallen asleep and didn’t stir too much.
 
He blew her a kiss and started to walk down to the basement to sleep.
 
He repeated the Duke’s warning in his head over and over again: “Don’t be surprised if they or even you get bored and want to move on.
 
Monogamy is a mortal dilemma.”
 
Sometimes he wished it wasn’t.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
The Way Station is a place between the Land of the Living and the Land of the Dead.
 
What it exactly is a mystery that no one can exactly explain.
 
Mortals only pass through it on their way to the Afterlife.
 
However, Immortals and lost souls seem to find their way there all the time.
 
A vampire can go there when they are sleeping.
 
To each individual who passes through, they see it differently.
 
To Anton, is always appeared like JR’s Bar.
 
The only difference was that there were a series of doors and corridors to the left of the bar area.
 
Behind each door was something different and most didn’t enter them unless they had a reason.
 
A few of them actually opened into other universes or time periods.
 
Vampires would come to the Way Station at times to meet up with other vampires or even spirits of mortals that they had once known.
 
Some mortal spirits were able to come there from the Land of the Dead and would have solid bodies again for the brief time they were there.
 
No one really understood the rules and the whys of the Way Station and it was pretty much common knowledge that things that were said or done there were not discussed.

The next night Anton was there.
 
The light in the bar was really dark.
 
There were no happy songs on the jukebox, no neon signs advertising the latest and greatest beer, and for the moment, no patrons.
 
JR himself stood behind the bar, looking as sad and focused on his task at hand: cleaning beer mugs.
 
It seemed to Anton that was all that JR did was clean mugs and the bar itself.
 
Although the bar never seemed to get any cleaner no matter how many times he ran a rag across it.
 
Besides the few lights on the bar, the only thing that Anton could see was the smoke rising from JR’s cigarette that was in the corner of his mouth. About an inch of ash hung from it as JR seemed way too preoccupied to pay it much mind at all.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
The area around the bar itself was totally dark, although he could slightly make out the outlines of doors and hallways beyond.
 
Even with Anton’s vampiric eyes, he couldn’t see past the darkness, totally.
 
Anton raised a finger and motioned for JR to approach.
 
JR nodded and fixed a cup of coffee for Anton.
 
He brought the steaming cup to the Anton and sat it down.
 
“Don’t worry about it this time,” JR croaked.
 
“This time you can drink it and not worry about it.
 
Everyone can eat or drink whatever they want here.”
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Anton looked and him curiously and then shrugged.
 
Somehow, he knew that JR told him the truth.
 
He slowly picked up the hot cup and brought it to his lips.
 
He closed his eyes and allowed the hot liquid to flow slowly into his mouth.
 
Usually he would have spit it out but for the first time in centuries, he swallowed.
 
Half expecting to vomit, he set the cup back into its saucer.
 
When nothing happened, he looked up at JR.
 
It had been the first time he had actually tried to drink anything while there.
 
Most of the time he just sat and listened to stories of the various patrons.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“I told you, buddy,” said JR smiling at him, “here nothing matters.
 
It’s the Way Station you know?
 
Whatever you are, whoever you are, shit, it doesn’t matter here.
 
We’re all equal. So just drink your coffee and relax.”
 
He went back to cleaning beer glasses.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
As time went on, more people became to come out of the darkness.
 
First, an older black man with long white hair wearing a porter’s uniform came in and sat two seats down from him.
 
Then, two beautiful and elegant black women came in and sat on the other side of the bar. He recognized one as Vercie, a deceased mortal woman who considered herself to be the keeper of Velara’s family legacy. Lastly, an older gentleman wearing all black came in and sat down right next to Anton.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
The new patrons sat quietly for several moments not speaking.
 
JR put a glass in front of the women and poured brandy for them.
 
The old black man was given a cup of coffee, too.
 
And finally the man next to Anton was served a shot of whiskey.
 
Still no words were exchanged.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
The old man just stared ahead with a sad expression on his face that didn’t seem to change at all.
 
Anton looked closely at the face: he saw deep age lines; lines of sadness and despair.
 
The eyes that were smack-dab in the middle of those lines were also sad, but yet still carried a sense of acceptance and contentment.
 
The man’s hair matched his clothes in their blackness.
 
The hands that held the whiskey glass were hard and weathered.
 
He saw Anton staring at him and toasted him before taking one last swig of the coffee.
 
JR dutifully refilled the glass without a blink.
 
After a few moments Anton was able to recognize him.
 
He’d not known the man in life, but he’d often heard of him and his music.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
The beautiful black women stared at Anton and Vercie smiled at him in recognition.
 
He raised his glass to her.
 
She was a descendent of Velara, probably her great, great, great-granddaughter to be exact.
 
Many of Velara’s qualities had been passed down to her, although she was more of an elegant beauty with high cheek bones.
 
She was dressed in a beautiful, yet conservative, green gown.
 
She lit a cigarette and smoked it since The Way Station was the only place the dead could do such a “living thing”.
 
Her companion smiled at Anton and giggled out loud.
 
Somehow she looked familiar.
 
She was pretty, though she lacked the poise and overall effect that only Vercie could have.
 
Vercie had piercing eyes that met Anton’s.
 
But most of all he was taken with her smooth and flawless skin like brushed ebony velvet, and her shapely body that reminded him of Dorothy Dandridge.
 
Her companion quietly she lit a cigarette and then got up and came over to Anton’s side of the bar.
 
As she approached, he could smell her sweet and very fragrant perfume.
 
She sat down on the other side of Anton and signaled to JR for another drink.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
As he studied her from a closer proximity, he was really taken in by her overall effect.
 
She was even more beautiful than he first thought she was.
 
Her eyes met his again and he smiled at her. It was a smile that he usually reserved for Velara, but somehow it seemed alright to show it to her.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“I’ll bet you’ve seen a lot in your life,” said the old man in black, pulling Anton from his gaze. He lifted the cup of coffee to his lips and took a swig.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“Excuse me?” said Anton, slightly annoyed about being pulled away from the beautiful woman.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“I know what it’s like to be old,” the man said, not looking at Anton. JR quickly refilled the man’s cup.
 
“Time seems to pass slowly at times, and then at other times it passes quickly.
 
But not quickly enough.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
All Anton could do was nod his head.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“Yessir…I think that I lived much longer than anyone thought I would.
 
Even myself.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“Did you have a good life, old man?” came a voice from across the bar.
 
Light shown on a young man that Anton hadn’t noticed before.
 
He had black hair and clothes just like the old man, except he was considerably younger.
 
There was an air of mystery about him that couldn’t be put into words.
 
He seemed to have a darkness that enveloped him and made those who look at him feel uncomfortable.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“It was long and full of sadness.
 
But there were good times, too. Especially with the love of my life,” the old man said, taking a swig of his whiskey.
 
“It wasn’t but a few months after she was gone that I went to join her.”
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Anton thought about what the old man said for several moments.
 
He remembered how he felt when Velara left.
 
For the longest time he wondered if she were alive or dead.
 
His pain kept him from feeling her life source.
 
But as time went on, he could feel her, miles and miles away.
 
There were many emotions and voices in his head, but he couldn’t make out whose voice it was.
 
Sometimes it felt as if it were Velara, but then he believed that it was simply wishful thinking.