Nosuë: The Wandering Vampire

One night became a week, and that week became a month. Ronald always had more questions. He showed me the shelf where he kept all the vampire books; he told me he wanted to write one, to bring out the truth about us, the reality, not the myth.

He wanted humans to stop fearing us.

I didn’t share his enthusiasm nor his dream. You fear us… It is in your nature, just as it is in ours to feed on blood. But I did not dissuade him. One more book saying more of the same wouldn’t hurt.

The round of questions began again every night when he returned from his newspaper job. He would sit in his office with me and write down all my answers, urging me to talk, to explain more.

What was most disturbing was not the way he doggedly pursued each answer. I suppose what disturbed me most was the way he offered.

“You have to feed at least every seventh night, don’t you?” he asked on an occasion.

“At five days the vampire is usually more of an animal, but yes, about the seventh is the last chance to feed.”

“But you’ve been here for three, and you haven’t gone out.”

“I was planning to leave tonight.”

He looked at me with raised eyebrows.

“Why go hunting?” he asked. “Here.”

He held out a hand. No, more like… his wrist. He was offering me his blood.

I pulled back sharply, frowning. I was suddenly very aware of how he smelled: of ink, of newsprint, of buns. It was true, I hadn’t fed for three days. Thirst burned in my throat.

“Are you offering?” I muttered under my breath, narrowing my gaze. “A human? You?”

“Yes, I think I’m human,” Ronald laughed. “Come on. Let me experience what it’s like to donate my blood to a vampire.”

“No.”

“Why not? You told me that’s what you were raised to do.”

“I don’t have a flock any more. You are not my flock.”

“But Nosuë…”

“No.”

I turned and walked away.

I cannot explain why I refused to take from him. Perhaps because if I did, I would lose that refuge too soon; because when I dug my teeth into his skin, the reality would not match his wild imagination, and he would want to throw me out of his house.

It was nice there. The loft was full of junk and a bit dusty and cobwebby, but it was comfortable. There was a large armchair and plenty of board games to entertain myself during the days, while my hosts worked. They trusted me with their home… and also with their safety, because, while I went down to the living room and looked out the window, they slept.

Well, not always. Not Taneka, at least.

Her nervousness was palpable; her fear, I could almost taste it. She radiated it as she tossed and turned in her bed, unable to sleep. She exuded it above her scent of flour, freshly baked bread and whipped cream. She was a baker.

I would go away, sometimes. I had to feed, I had to hunt. And when I came back, like that night, she was awake.

She was preparing tea, I smelled it before I came in. Weak, with a lot of sugar. I waited outside until it was almost dawn, but she wouldn’t leave the kitchen, so I had to go in.

When I opened the door, Taneka jumped and stood up, tense. She looked at me with wide eyes, and her frightened expression remained for two seconds, until she changed it to nervous politeness.

“Ah, Nosuë, it is you,” she greeted.

I nodded my head. Out of habit, I rubbed my lips, just in case I had any blood on them that might disgust her. There wasn’t. But I could still smell her: sweet, young and fresh.

“Did it… Did it… go well?” she mumbled, stuttering.

Taneka didn’t want to know if my hunt had been fruitful. She didn’t really want me there… and I knew it. She couldn’t sleep with me in her house.

“I will leave, Taneka,” I assured her. “If it’s so annoying to have me here, I’ll leave. I’m not willing to be a burden.”

She hesitated.

Yes, it bothered her. Yes, she wanted me to leave, to disappear from their lives. She was a simple woman; she wanted to regain that simplicity in which nightmarish creatures lingered in nightmares.

I, on the other hand, was her husband’s dream come true. A vampire, real, tangible, someone to answer all the questions.

And she loved him. I knew she loved him. I could smell it, hear it when they shared one of those perfect, intimate, well-matched couple’s looks.

“Take off your shirt.”

I blinked, frowning. She barely looked at me for half a second, but I was pretty sure I heard her well. Oh, hearing gets so much better with vampirism.

“What?” I said, nonetheless.

“The shirt. It’s stained with b-blood. I’ll clean it.”

I looked down and searched for the stain. Just a few drops, right where I tucked the pale garment into my trousers.

Ronald had lent me his clothes; they smelled like him, and that made me feel weird, but I didn’t want to turn it down. It wasn’t bad. He was shorter than me, and a bit wider, but those weren’t stolen clothes, at least. It was a loan. Maybe they were even a gift.

And I’d stained it.

I clicked my tongue, but tried my best to hold back an uncomfortable growl that vibrated at the base of my throat. I didn’t quite succeed, because I noticed Taneka shiver in front of me and take a step back.

“I’m sorry,” I apologised softly, and without looking at her, I unbuttoned my shirt and took it off.

“N… No, it’s okay.”

She took it, careful not to touch me. She didn’t look at me either.

“I-I think you should wear black,” she commented with a nervous giggle. “That way the b-blood wouldn’t be so… so visible.”

“Yeah. I’ll keep that in mind.”

She smiled awkwardly, uncomfortable.

“Ah, would you like some tea while I c-clean it?”

Vampires can’t ingest anything, we don’t have a functioning digestive system. Although we can take in liquids, it leaves us churning for quite a while, so essentially anything apart from human fluids makes us start expelling everything from our system. All the blood.

It’s a terrible way to die, almost as bad as getting burnt by the sun.

Like Ritz.

“No, thank you, Taneka,” I replied, “I’ll go to the loft.”

“Of course. Sleep well.”

We didn’t sleep either.

“Thank you.”

Taneka is a bit scared... Would you be?

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