An Elders Tale

Written by William Lower

Part 1: The Happy Monster

Vivienne Chebbah focused on the postmodernist mirror. She knew her inner self well; it’s hiding places and its dislike of mirrors. It couldn’t avoid the reflection if it was the only thing in front of her. Silly thing. It was very rare she could see herself. Only when she trapped the dark untamed element of her soul could she make out her reflection.

She felt slightly annoyed and repulsed at her reflection, like seeing it was against some rule. She found herself attractive, but often gazed deep into her own eyes. Those eyes were ruby in color, hostile while still inviting, peaceful yet promising violence. She did love looking deep within herself.

Something looked back.

Something she had long grown accustomed to. Something that was her first and most trusted companion. It was her instinct. An uncategorized assortment of emotions that defined her as a Kindred. It helped her fear the day, reminded her when to feed, and allowed adequate venting when frustration and irritation mounted to a point she couldn’t contain.

Young fledglings despised this element of themselves. They were too scared of themselves to say it was actually their own actions that caused the death of a loved one. OH no… they were too innocent to have possibly been at fault for consuming every last drop of honey sweet blood from their own firstborn. Young Kindred too attached to their mortal lives needed a label for this part of them.

They called it the Beast.

The truth of it, there was no beast. There never was. Only a name and excuse for what the weak told themselves to live with what, but more importantly who, they had become. Vivienne felt for the young toddlers of her kind. It was miserable being young for her. Was it the same in modern times? There are significantly more mortals in which to feed on, more buildings to flee between, larger crowds to get lost in, more threatening criminals to use as convenient scapegoats.

On the flip side, there was the Internet, tracking devices, every phone had a camera, and dear lord the guns had improved.

She shook the internal debate out of her mind and turned her attentions back to the sharp red eyes in the reflection.

“See you soon. We’ll go on a date tonight, just you and I.” she cooed into the mirror.

Her reflection seemed pleased.

“But first…” she said excitedly, glee plastered across every aspect of her form, “… there is a party we must attend!”

She opened a drawer under the large vanity mirror to reveal an assortment of basic makeup goodies. Most were stolen off various blood contributors. If a dead mortal didn’t need her makeup, at least the undead could make use of it. Few of the compacts still had the proof-of-deed dried and long crusted on their smooth round cases.

Once popped open, she merrily began spreading a light cream colored foundation across her pale and sullen features. She made a cute short growling sound at the irritation of not counterfeiting the effects of life. Through only will, a fragment of her vitae blanched across her corpse. The feeling of her heart starting in protest made her smile. It was an alien, yet fun sensation, every time she did it. Breathing, heart beating, and slightly perspiring, she continued her task.

The foundation matched much more evenly this time she applied it. From there she moved expertly through the various cosmetics including eye-liner, blush, mascara, and of course deep bourbon lipstick to bring out her inherently Mediterranean olive features.

The finished product was a striking beauty whose face shared the spotlight with eyes that inspired fear in mortals.

She stooped down to a bound figure next to her. The bound and gagged woman recoiled sharply as the Kindred neared. Vivie ignored the repulsion and put her face on display for the mortal resting on the floor with back to the wall.

“What do you think?” she asked happily, turning her head this way and that so the captive could get a view from various angles.

Muffled pleas were all that could be made out in reply.

The rope-shackled woman had matted hair, as if she had been drug through the mud by her feet. Scratches and cuts would have been obvious to any observer if her back had been exposed. The ropes around her wrists and ankles were tied impossibly tight prohibiting all movement. The gag was also rope, just a single piece an inch wide anchored around the young woman’s neck forcing her to keep her mouth open and depressing the tongue and lips. The edges of her mouth were lightly bleeding. Under her eyes make-up ran down her cheeks in light floods of tears.

“I’m delighted you agree!” Vivie said elated lightly clapping. “I read in a magazine those with my skin tone shouldn’t wear brown lipstick. What do they know?” she remarked, preening in front of the mirror.

The naked Kindred walked out of the bathroom with the mortal for just a moment. She returned with a dress in each arm. They both were nearly the same cut, small and short. Both would leave plenty of leg and arm; very sexy for modern standards, satanic for medieval French. The only difference was the color, one was sage green, the other Bourbon brown, and both matched her features and make-up.

“Which catches your fancy?” she asked curious. “I’m sure you’re more in touch with fashion than I.”

Vivienne waited for a reply.

“You don’t have an opinion? You’re a young lady, this should be your past time!” she said playfully scolding.

The captive once again made gagged choking sounds, with small bits of drool leaking out underneath the rope.

“Oops, didn’t get that last little bit sweetie.” She admitted tenderly.

Vivie thrust her fingers in the mortal’s mouth to grab a firm hold of the rope resulting in a muffled scream of pain. Once a hold was reached the kindred pulled sharply out and down letting the moral speak, but essentially the gag had been replaced with a tight noose.

“Please…” the young woman coarsely coughed. “Why are you doing this?” she stammered in half broken bursts of speech.

“OH? You’re my guest for the party!” the elder exclaimed. “I have to look my very best, this only happens once a year!”

“Let me go...” the girl began to sob uncontrollably.

“Now now…” Vivie said as if presenting a joke, “tell me which dress you like or I’ll put the gag back on.”

“Brown.” The defeated captive conceded. She licked the corners of her mouth and grimaced at the coppery taste.

“Don’t let that go to waste.” Chebbah said flatly. “You may not think it cuisine, but others find it divine.” She informed, sitting on her knees in front of the striking attractive woman.

There was something about this mortal female that enticed the elder. Was it the open wounds, the complete vulnerability, or the fact she had just murdered her male lover an hour prior? Either way she really enjoyed her company!

The two were very close now and the mortal grimaced and winced as if a red hot poker was penetrating her stomach. Vivie got even closer to the girls mouth, specifically causing the weaker woman to recoil until her head was being pressed against the wall. The pleasant kindred gripped the mortal by the underneath of the jaw with long slender manicured, yet steely digits.

“Let me get that for you.” She offered, making a seal with her own mouth around the tiny wound in the fleshly corner of the others.

The reeling stopped. Vivienne smiled as the traces of nectar made itself known to her sophisticated palate. The mortal seemed pleased by the sensation as well.

“That wasn’t so bad was it?” She asked the mortal who was still overly relaxed. “Want that again? A little deeper? A little more fulfilling? Of course you do. I was just being polite.”

The vampire bit deep into the neck of the mortal, both immediately trembling at the mutual euphoria the Kiss created. Vivienne slowly and lightly torqued herself getting a better seal on the wound.

She was a master connoisseur. She wasn’t untrained like the rabble of this neonatal city. She didn’t gnash and gnaw at the superficial jugular, but instead pierced the much more difficult left ascending carotid. Why lap at the pooling low pressure, high volume vein when the mortal’s own blood pressure will offer a high tension artery? The undead could feel the heartbeat of the human; each beat was a new warm pulse of blood hitting the back of her throat.

The mortal latched onto the naked lithe figure on top of her. Her trembling hands sought anchors to hold on to but found only skin. She grabbed Viv and pressed herself even more into her. The two could feel each other’s nipples become erect in the highly sensual experience.

As the two continued, Vivie began to buck her hips slightly and unconsciously, but the weakening pulse reminded her of her new friend’s mortality. She licked the wound slowly and enticingly, sealing the puncture. She slowly kissed and dried it of any blood residue that may linger. Once satisfied she rested her forehead on that of her new lover.

“Thank you.” Viv said eyes closed in deep appreciation.

She stood up with the mortal still in the throes of passion the Kiss demanded of her. She reached for the sink and tossed the green dress out the door and pulled the brown one over, being careful not to spoil her make-up. Vivienne admired the way the cloth clung to her body, knowing there was nothing underneath. Like most most female Kindred and most female supernaturals, not wearing a bra or panties was common to Vivienne.

She stood once more back in front of the mirror and began styling her hair like a master beautician. Several minutes went by and the mortal on the floor began to come out of her supernaturally induced orgasm.

“What did you do to me?” she said confused, dazed, and exhausted.

Vivie for the first time had no answers or questions. She only sat looking at her reflection patiently combing out any imperfection of her platinum mane. Wondering if garters and stockings would compliment the ensemble better?

The woman had less protests now. Possibly being she was too tired to voice them, or hopefully too appreciative of the sensations the two shared.

After several minutes went by in silence, Vivie got up and looked down at her prey. She was an attractive woman, no doubt in college. She had been plucked right out of a dorm room with a man about to mount her. The man was flattering the girl. Cooing her to give up her cherry. Considering the position he had been in, his hard and unimpressive cock inches from her dry snatch, only a matter of seconds existed before her cherry was popped. Since the fellow had been on on top and easy pickings, Viv partook of his warm blood. All of it!

“You’re a virgin.” Viv commented looking down.

How do you know?” the woman asked still exhausted, too fatigued to show care.

“Your blood told me.”Viv offered. “Too rare to exhaust and cast out in these modern nights.”

The mortal just looked back, tired and lost.

“I was going to kill you and dump you in the river.” The Kindred confessed causing the girl's eyes to grow wide. “Instead, will you stay here with me? As a guest? We could be pals! We could go do things together, whatever you want. Anything.”

Vivienne reached down to touch the mortals hand, but was denied the contact. It was an insult that had played out an infinite amount of times that only caused the vulnerable monster to ache.

“After the party we’ll revisit this topic.” Chebbah said flatly, a total opposite of the demeanor she had displayed through the night thus far“. You’ll have to decide which is more important: your life, or your freedom of my company; you can live with me, or not at all.”

The kindred started to walk out of the bathroom, leaving her new mortal on the floor.

"Oh, by the way..." the elder commented enthusiastically and excited spinning around on the heels of her bare feet, "My name is Vivienne, you can call me Vivie! All my friends do!"

Part 2: Should I Stay or Should I Go?

"I want you to get dressed and make yourself look pleasant!" Vivienne asked politely. “I need to get the guests for the party ready."

She walked over and undid the bindings on the mortal. Once the ropes were discarded, the elder tenderly rubbed the dimpled impressions left by the restraints. Each time Viv laid a delicate finger on the mortal to soothe away pain, the mortal jerked in fear. Every mild convulse caused the vampire's face to lose a little of its smile.

By the time the human’s restraints were removed, she was little less skittish and fearful acting of her captor. Maybe it was due to the woman being desensitized to Viv's Nosferatu aura, or she noticed the genuine hurt originating from the elder. Even though she wasn't reacting nearly as harshly to the horrific presence before her, Vivie seemed to be fighting back tears, even while smiling.

"In the room next to you you'll find dresses, pants, tops, shirts, anything you want really! Well, except underwear “ She commented with forced happiness. “I’ll be back."

With that, her captor simply left. Why is she doing this? What’s the purpose in the senseless death of her would-be-lover? The woman desperately needed answers to make sense of the horrific situation she was in, but there were none.

She got up still drowsy and weak, but the stress of being kidnapped and watching her boyfriend be murdered in front of her blunted any feelings of relaxation. She had no idea who this Vivienne was, but the mortal had only fear and loathing for her.

She slowly and almost in disbelief walked toward the door. Each step required the assistance of the sink, some drawers, or some other device used to help steady her gait from the constraining damage of the ropes.

As the attractive and vulnerable girl reached the door, Vivienne’s pleasant face popped into view once more startling the mortal.

"I haven't got you name yet by the way!" She said with undertones of hope.

The woman looked around nervously wondering if there was any possible way to avoid more contact. While the strange woman was beautiful and pleasant, she couldn't get the visions of violent murder and unseen loathing emanations from her thoughts. The mortal was still trapped in a bathroom with the bane of her existence blocking the only exit.

"It’s... Jessica. “She said cautiously and with little enthusiasm, wondering to herself why this psycho cared.

As soon as the words left her mouth Vivienne clasped her hands together in appreciation and excitement. Before Jessica could even react, Viv was gone from the doorway, off to whatever task she had planned.

Jessica made her way as silently as possible to the door. Viv was nowhere to be found.

She was in a small house that was very, very, modern. All of the walls were a crisp white with perfectly black baseboard, door, and window trim. The door knobs were all a hard contrast gold, bronze, or some other type of shiny round metal. The kitchen could be seen. The black square tile sported a perfectly round white table with matching chairs that were meticulously placed around it.

The white carpet had not a single sign of life. There were measured patterns in the carpet from regular vacuuming. Not a single footprint could be found, not even the ones Vivienne had to leave when she left the bathroom.

The living space lacked any sort of emotion at all, which was very contrary to her forced hosts behavior. Disregarding the fact she casually murdered someone, Jessica's new "friend" seemed hyper emotional, to where this house was the exact opposite.

Trying to push her lack of understanding to her current scenario or environment, Jessica made her way through the threshold of the door to the rest of the house. She looked to her left and noticed inside a room there was an immaculately made bed, with a wide assortment of clothing options available.

There were dresses on hangers with tags still on display, prices obvious. Pleated and straight pants still protected by clear plastic to keep dust off them on the shelves. Tank tops, halter tops, t-shirts, smocks, and a host of other styles of tops were ready, brand new. All the clothing had a few things in common: they were all relatively inexpensive, all brand new, and matched exactly what Vivienne had on: burgundy or sage. The most alarming part of it all, each and every piece of clothing was Jessica’s exact size.

The mortal continued past the room with the clothes and kept an eye out for the deranged host. Jessica found herself hating her captor more than anything she had ever encountered. She also felt an overpowering sense of sorrow for her. She wanted to help her host, she really did, but loathed her too much to do so.

She made her way to the kitchen and noticed there was no trash in the wastecan made of the same golden metal as the doorknobs. There was a liner in it that smelled of chemicals designed to mimic flowers, but that was it; no refuse at all. She slowed her silent escape just long enough to see the kitchen as a whole looked like a snap shot right out of a Better Homes and Gardens magazine. All the way down to the pictures on the table that held images of a family that most likely never lived here.

This place was painstakingly doctored to not look perfect, but be perfect. It wasn’t the perfect home for invitation and love, it was a cold sterile house lacking feeling and life.

Jessica saw the door and grasped the solid golden knob. She steeled herself before turning, prepping her inner thoughts for the idea that it would be locked. Why would her captor actually trust her alone? Was this just another form of torture? A psychological front to tempt prey to try to turn the knob just to find out it locked?

Her heart skipped a beat when the handle turned and the door silently opened. She stood in the doorway looking at her freedom. She looked behind her to the perfect little house, void of life or sound. Her own footsteps tracked all the way to the bathroom in the patterned carpet, but there was still no sign of Vivienne’s.

“I’m sorry Vivie.” Jessica whispered, obligated to voice the ache she had in her heart for her captor. “I hope you enjoy your party, but it can’t be with me.”

With that, Jessica began to sprint for the nearest house with lights on. She took one step, but then heard a loud crunch and couldn’t move or feel from the waist down.

Not understanding why she couldn’t move, she looked down to see a slender steely manicured hand protruding from just under her sternum. The random hand glistened in the starlight, covered in gore and was firmly wrapped around her dislodged T8 vertebrae. There was no pain, only mild discomfort and staggering confusion.

In a whirl of impossibly loud internal crunches, Jessica’s view was snapped behind her. She saw her pitiful captor, Vivie, palming her own skull with an arm thrust in her back. It took a few precious seconds before Jessica realized her neck had been torn in a perfect one hundred eighty degrees. Again, there was no pain.

Vivienne Chebbah's hard work, meticulous brush strokes, and expert application of make-up was in ruin. Rivers of red streamed from her eyes as her face was crumpled in a look of utter agony and pain. The mortal knew she was breaths away from death, but was also aware in that moment of time, her killer fared, much, much worse.

The only feeling Jessica had when she died, was feeling of sadness she shared with her murderer.

Part 3: Once Corpse Carries Another

Vivienne carried Jessica's dead corpse down the drive of one of Seattle's middle class urban areas. The region was nice, litter free, and calm. The violent crime rate here was one of the lower in the cities; it offered easy feeding from a human population that had let its guard down.

Short of the hole penetrating the mortal from the small of her spine through the front of her gut and her head hanging grotesquely backwards, flopping up and down with each step, she was in wonderful shape. Jessica's body was still attractive to the Kindred, in more ways than one.

casually punctured the neck and pulled on her favorite artery. Now pulse-less, the tube offered little in the means of blood flow. With the body over her shoulder, Viv pulled the vasculature out, ripping and snapping it free through the chest, making a short hose of it. She brought the artery down to her mouth and began to suck lightly, creating a tiny stream that would quickly clot and seal off. This made a horrific version of a hydration backpack for hikers; whenever Viv wanted, a few quick tugs on the artery and she would be rewarded with a satisfying swig of virgin blood. The process wasn't seamless of course, each time she did it, a portion of the crimson covered her chin and was beginning to saturate the front of her snug fitted short bourbon dress. None of the pedestrians seemed to mine the act, or pay her attention at all, due to her activation of Obfuscate.

Police cruisers rarely found themselves in pursuit of criminals in this area. The oppressive sense of law couldn't be found; policeman helped people cross the streets, operated manual stop signs during the day for schools, and ran community functions before the stars came out. In some places of the city, some cops could be viewed as restless authority that preyed on citizens. This area was not one of those.

For a century Viv policed her own territory back in Europe. Mortals who looked to make victims of the citizens were soon found to be victims themselves. Kindred who preyed in her domain fared little better. The elder sighed. That was long ago. A different time.

Of course the Prince of this city had a law to allow Carthians to feed first, wherever, or maybe it was however they wanted. Vivienne wasn't too sure about the specifics. That may be the Prince’s law, but it wasn't one of the three kindred traditions; the law's she truly honored. It reminded her of pedestrians being protected by automobiles in a parking lot. The foot traffic may be protected by law, but when their mangled body was wrapped around the front end or axle of a three ton truck, who was truly protected?

The Prince said Carthians could feed anywhere. By Carthians did he mean Invictus? His political transparency was obvious. The political systems of the European Camarilla would grind his bones to dust. They ruled their own domains for reasons much like she had ruled her smaller one: because they could. Her recently small "Prince given" plot was some of the higher land value of the city. Her leadership and corralling of her little sea-monkey farm could be an example to the rest of the city of how to manage your feeding grounds.

The idea of the land was Prince given was interesting. Would the Prince risk his Requiem by taking her little sandbox away? Would she risk hers to keep it? Did it matter? She and the Prince had a great relation; as good as one could be considering the vast differences between the two. The possibly of them warring was quite remote. If nothing else, Viv helped fix way more city problems than she caused. Habits left over from her younger days; she still wanted to be useful.

Her thoughts turned back to her current task. Jessica lay limp and stiffening over Vivienne's shoulder. The kindred sadly walked right down the middle of the street. Motorists on both side of the street, some coming others going, paid neither the blood soaked Kindred nor the corpse she carried any mind.

Why did Jessica try to leave?

Viv sought the company of a mortal all the time. There was a long and bloody lineage of her trying to swoon a companion. Every time she failed. It weighed on her. Her heart was twice as heavy as the dead body on her shoulder.

She didn't blame "The Nosferatu Curse", her "Beast", or some deflecting ideal of undeath. She blamed herself. She killed Jessica, because... because.. she didn't have a reason. Only hurt. The pain of reaching out trying to rub away her pain from the bindings and seeing her mortal friend recoil. The ache of her human ally pushing herself painfully into the wall just to try to escape Viv's presence...It all hurt so, so bad. Centuries of rejection may lead to the formation of emotionally dead philosophies, but not in Viv. With her it amplified them.

Vivienne pulled on the organic straw to be rewarded with a beady stream of liquid. It was only mildly satisfying; like room temperature water for a parched mortal. But at least it had flavor.

She came to a sports bar with large windows and stopped for a brief moment to reposition her refreshments hips, the bony prominences of the athletic woman were pinching Viv's delicate shoulder.

Much better.

The elder looked up and through the windows to see an assortment of mortals rooting and cheering at the Televisions. They were flat screen now, she had never really noticed it before. Guns got bigger, Televisions got smaller. None of it made sense to her.

Time was the true enemy.

Hunters, the "Beast", mankind and its weapons... all things Neonates cared about, stressed over, and feared. The fear of Time is what elders knew to steel themselves for. Time robbed you of what mattered most: yourself.

She shook the depressing concepts of chronic isolation from her mind and watched the mortals in fascination. Some were yelling, others cheering, casually flirting, passionately fighting, tastefully eating, drinking, laughing... Each and every action she saw was something she envied and longed to do.

Had she been on another plot of land, she would have contemplated barring the doors and burning it to the ground.

Why? They did her no harm, just like Jessica. What was it then? What did mortals have that she didn't? They had their lives, but she had already lived longer than many generations. They had their homes, she had several blocks. They had power, she commanded shadows and her own Vitae. She could only think of one thing they had she didn't. She had it all except for one thing and that one thing was her everything: affiliation.

Not entirely true. She was well known, if not a full out celebrity, in the Kindred world. But that wasn't something she sought out or even wanted.

She wanted to be liked, loved, and adored by things other than a monster. She wanted to belong to someone. She could easily make someone belong to her with her Vitae, but she wanted a mortal to take ownership of her. She needed it. Once she found one accepting of her, she would spend the rest of their unnatural lives together with them.

Viv walked across the street and got close to the windows. She cupped a hand and tried to listen through the glass but couldn't hear anything. The front door swung open quickly and a group of four guys walked out, three being red in the face and talking much more loudly than need be. The Kindred's eyes lit up in glee at the human spectacle.

The four men casually and unconsciously walked around her and her dead Jessica, yelling jokes at one another. For a fraction of a moment she hoped she would be included in one of jabs, jokes, or tales. Instead, they kept walking down the sidewalk and Vivienne's excited luster faded the further away they got. She saw the auto's amber lights flash as they unlocked it. She tried to commit the numbers on the front and back to memory so she could break in the windows or blow the tires out if she saw it somewhere outside of her domain.

She took one last mournful look into the bar, savored it, and continued walking.

Viv made her way out of her domain across some of the city and into a specific territory of a Kindred she was working against. She walked to the middle of the road again, cars still going by her oblivious of one pretty corpse carrying another. She opened a manhole cover and dumped the body after taking a final drag off her drying pet artery.

Hearing the body make a wet thud into whatever texture it landed it made her sob. Not because of the murder, but because of the next shattered dream in the long line of hundreds. Jessica could have been her childer, her lover, but most of all her friend.

Now, the only thing left was just another nameless body.

Her mild sobs turned into open cries that drew the attention of pedestrians. An automobile seemed to notice her in the middle of the road and started blaring it's awful and loud horn. The driver flashed its lights brighter and swerved. giving Vivienne several feet of safety.

She covered her mouth realizing her anguish had caused her Cloak of Night to fail. With simply vanishing back into the shadows being a clear breach of the first tradition, she simply ran from the lights to a back alley.

Once out of the view of mortals, she wrapped herself in shadow once more.

She looked to the manhole and seemed as if saying a sad farewell without speech. With her goodbyes given, she set back to the streets, a few mortals walking toward the manhole to investigate.

Later on, screams could be heard from behind as she passed the bar again on the way home. The inquisitive mortals didn't let her down, they never did. The bodies she dumped almost always got attention from authorities, but they never seem to come around her domain or haven.

Goodbye Jessica. You may not want to be with me, but your rejection won’t hurt only me. Should you wish to make me suffer as you have, I shall use your dead corpse to spread my suffering to others.

I will not have grief in solitude.

The end.