Stain

Alena laughed at Aleksander as she sipped from her second glass of red wine. She hadn’t even drank that much and she was already beginning to feel tipsy. He had taken several drops of blood from his sirloin and had applied it to the corners of his mouth and was looking around the restaurant at people with demeaning glares, mocking the two bloodsucking phantasms that were themselves.

“You are just adorable.”

He smiled at her, his scarlet eyes slightly shining. “Thank you babe. So are you.”

She smiled as she took yet again, another sip from the alcoholic ambrosia, staining her pale pink lips slightly red along with her shiny white teeth. He sat across from her, smiling, sipping from his wine as well. “Can I tell you a story, love?”

She nodded, his stories always fascinated her. He was so mature, so wise, but so young at the same time. So lively. So…happy. He accepted his immortality and bloodlust, he accepted the fact everybody that knew the mortal him was dead. And that was just something Alena couldn’t accept. That in a few decades, her parents, whom she didn’t necessarily remember, but she still loved. They were the parents who gave her the mortal life she once lived, and without that, she wouldn’t be able to live this immortal life. Which as terrifying, depressing, monstrous, slightly nauseating, and lonesome as it seemed, it looked exciting. As long as she was to stay with Aleksander and Silvan. Klara on the other hand…she didn’t care much for.

“Well. It was when Silvan and I were in the states. It was nineteen sixty nine, and we were residing in Los Angeles at the time, and we were driving down Cielo Drive, it was around midnight. There was a movie star at the time, Sharon Tate, and Silvan was just fascinated with her. I was more of a Faye Dunaway man myself. Anyway. We saw this car pull up to the house, a 1959 Ford, and we saw them climbing this hill that was slightly beside the gate. I wanted to pull over and say something, but Silvan said it wouldn’t be a good idea, to drive around the drive once more and then come back and see if anything happened. Now, I had a knot in my stomach the entire time and my knuckles were pure white, whiter than they usually are at least. Haha. On with my twisting tale. So, I was avoiding returning back to the house with all of my might. But he kept insisting to go back. And when I did, the Ford was gone. Everything, gone. As if the people from the Ford were never there. I began to think I was hallucinating.”

Alena laughed, “And the point in this?”

Aleksander looked around, then leaned over the table at her. “Well, sweetheart, Sharon Tate was a very very famous actress at the time, I’ll have you watch one of her movies, Valley of the Dolls, with me tonight. Anyway. There was this maniac failure musician running amok Hollywood and had gathered all of these hippies and brainwashed them into thinking he was God, then told them to kill Sharon because she resided in a music producer’s old house, and he had turned down Charles, the maniac’s, music and he believed the house represented his failure. So he told his little hippie children to go the house and kill everyone there.”

Leaning back in his seat, he laughed at the expression on her face. She looked slightly terrified, her eyes wide and she looked around then leaned across the table whispering, “Was he prosecuted?”

Aleksander busted out laughing, almost thinking it was sarcasm tainting her voice, then realizing she wouldn’t know any better. “Well. One of his hippies was already in jail for something else and told an inmate she committed the Tate murders, and that led to the incrimination of the rest of her family. I believe some of them were executed, but Charles wasn’t, because technically he didn’t kill anyone. He had them do it for them. I think he might still be alive. Rotting in prison.”

“How do you know so much about it?”

An expression of sorrow and guilt overcame his gorgeous face, “Well…I know I saw the killers breaking into the house that night. I know I did. And I could have stopped them. They wouldn’t have been able to kill me, I highly doubt they would think of decapitation. Sharon Tate could very well have lived on. Her and her baby. So, I took a quite following in it. Reading about the trials, the autopsies. Everything.”

Alena looked down at the skirt of her dress, only imagining the guilt he must have felt when he found out what they had been doing that night. “Did you tell the authorities?”

“No. It would draw too much attention to ourselves.” Looking around, the tension grew strong once again between the two.

Aleksander joined his hands together and smiled at her, “Darling, wanna blow this place and go back home and watch a film together?”

“I would love that.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Aleksander couldn’t find Valley of the Dolls, so they began watching the original Dracula with Bela Lugosi.

“See, look at the way he is consuming her neck. That is so old school.” Aleksander said. They were in a room in the west wing of the manor, sitting on a large couch. Alena had her head on his chest, listening to his chest rise and fall with his breathing, and he had his arm around her, running his fingers through the ends of her long, dark brunette hair. She looked up at him, her amaranthine eyes looking up at his cerise. He glance down for a moment at her pale lips, suddenly feeling the intense desire to press his to hers, longing the warmth and acceptance of intimacy.

Their faces began to near each other, breathing in their scents, he was running has hand through his hair. Their undead lips both came together for the first time, he lightly put his hand on her face, hers wrapping around her neck. He slightly tightened his arm around her waist, then pulling away from her.

“That dress looks slightly uncomfortable.”