The Things We Do

To say that Godric enjoyed hunting was an understatement. He thrived in it just as any soulless vampire would. He got a thrill every time he heard the thrumming heartbeat of his prey when they suddenly realized that they weren’t alone and their company certainly wasn’t pleasant. The rush of adrenaline that surged through them, prompting them to run down dark streets to try to escape the ominous presence, his presence, sharpened the taste of their blood like that first shot of whiskey. Then, of course, the relief and surprise on their faces when he revealed himself to them after teasing them for a few heart-pounding seconds or sometimes, if he was feeling extra playful, minutes.

Oh, that was the best. Just watching the look change between panic, calm, embarrassment, confusion, and panic again as they realized just what kind of monster stood before them. By that moment, there could be no doubt that he was certainly a monster. He’d lowered his fangs, the look in his eyes changing rapidly from mirth to rapture. The glint in his eyes that of a madman, of a killer. Then, with more fear than they ever had before, they took off in the opposite direction. That chase was over before it truly began. There was nothing faster than the feral vampire.

He often gave his prey just enough time to cry out a plea of mercy and usually they were not directed at him. More often than not it was, “God, have mercy on my soul” or the much more rare, “May God have mercy on your soul.” That was the most amusing to Godric as he’d seen over the centuries the rise and fall of many gods, none of whom had ever taken the time to care. At any rate, he would then plunge his flashing fangs into the victim and pull away just before the heart stopped beating no matter how delectable their blood was.

And then, renewed with energy, he’d dispose of the carcass and walk away as if he had not just taken the life of an innocent human being. He would often repeat this procedure two or three times a night although he really didn’t need to feed more than once a week.

Although Godric resembled a seventeen year old at the maximum, he was far older and could survive centuries without feeding at all. But where, he often asked his moody child, was the fun in that?



“I see you’ve fed,” his child and companion said after as he returned to the bar where the two had been sitting before Godric had decided to…amuse himself.

“I see you haven’t,” Godric countered with the smallest of smirks.

His companion shrugged and looked around. “I haven’t found anyone worth my time yet. The humans here are too rowdy, I suppose.”

Godric also took stock of the humans around him and was forced to agree. His child had a tendency to go for the ones who wouldn’t make a fuss when the time came to rip into them. He also had a preference for pretty, blonde, buxom women. Neither of the two groups was accounted for in that dingy bar.

“Would you like to move on, Eric?” Godric asked, nonchalantly.

Eric nodded his head silently and stood up. Unlike Godric, Eric did not look like he was still a teenager. He was tall and lean but defined with little lines just at the edge of his cloudy blue eyes. He held himself up proudly but still just low enough to tell that, proud though he was, he also knew cold winters and hard physical labor. His blonde hair was combed neatly to the side and when he moved just a bit into the shadows he was indistinguishable from the other middle-aged men in bar.

The men in his path to the door stepped aside without so much as a sound as he passed them and all of the low women watched him with hunger, curiosity, and awe. Godric smiled as he followed Eric out of the bar, courteously nodding to one woman who had the courage to make eye contact. He knew that choosing Eric had been the right choice; he’d never doubted him at all. Eric made him feel like a proud father and although the two didn’t see each other quite as frequently as they had in the past (as Eric had finally become a maker himself – not a bad choice either, Pam seemed like the perfect match for his forlorn child) the two had managed to retain their relationship just as they’d always had.

The two vampires passed in front of a funeral home and suddenly Eric stopped. Godric looked at the place. It was a simple building, across the street from an impressive church (for Brooklyn, that is) that was quite new. It had only been dedicated a couple of years before. Although, he now noticed a cornerstone which said the building was completed in 1891…strange. He turned to look back at the funeral home and noticed the door closing. Eric had already entered.

“Hm…” Godric followed his child inside and sighed. “Really, Eric? Don’t you think that a funeral is a bad time to kill another member of a grieving family?”

The taller of the two vampires grinned wickedly as he turned to Godric. “On the contrary, I think it is the best. They tend to be a little more willing to pass quietly. Humans whimpering annoy me,” Eric whispered, turning back to the gathered crowd many of whom were sobbing. He threw a comforting sort of smile at someone who just happened to catch his eye and then slid into a row of seats.

Godric followed the direction of his child’s gaze and felt something very unfamiliar in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed a lump that had inexplicably formed in his throat and throwing the object of his attention an awkward attempt at Eric’s smile, settled into a seat next to Eric.

“She’s pretty,” Eric whispered to Godric, still scanning the crowd for a feasible meal.

“I suppose she is,” Godric murmured. He gazed passed the many people that separated her from them and saw only the girl’s brown tumbling in curls down her back. She turned her head to the side revealing the pale flawless skin of her neck and the thrumming, vibrant heartbeat.

He felt his desire pulsing through him, calling for the blood but then something strange happened. She turned around and fixed him with wide, beautiful, honey brown eyes rimmed with red. He didn’t think he’d ever differentiated the color from other brown eyes but now it was glaringly obvious. She smiled, even though she’d been crying moments before and he couldn’t help but to smile back at her. The girl turned away and he heard Eric chuckle.

Godric glared at him and he quickly shut up.

Finally, the crowd cleared out leaving an older man sitting quietly although his shoulders heaved, two girls (one of them being Lady Love, as he’d dubbed her, seeing as he didn’t know her name), himself, another older woman, and Mary Grace who’s name he’d read on the small epigraph while paying his respects to the woman laying peacefully in the coffin. Eric had wordlessly left after he’d found someone who, Godric presumed, was worthy to dine with.

Godric stood by the coffin for no more than a few moments, before he was joined. He didn’t look up until he heard her ask softly.

“Did you know my mama?” Her voice was quiet and she almost sounded casual. Almost; just towards the end her words trembled. She took a deep breath to steady it. His lady love was about to cry again and he instinctively reached out and took her hand, carefully holding it in his own. She looked surprised (not as surprised he felt, of course) but didn’t withdraw it. Instead she gave him a watery smile.

“I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her,” Godric replied.

The girl looked curious as she eyed him but seemed to shrug it off. “She was a wonderful woman; always helped out anyone who needed it and she was the best of cooks. ‘Most everyone adored her.”

Having no need of food and not feeling comfortable lying to her and saying he would have loved her as well for her cooking skills, he merely gave her a comforting smile and squeezed her hand just a little to show he cared. Cared? When had that happened? He barely knew the girl.

She looked back and noticed that her father and what he supposed was her sister, watching them from the door. Slowly, she retracted her hand (much to Godric’s displeasure) and smiled at him before taking a step back. “I have to go now. Thank you for coming.” She turned and began walking away and Godric knew somehow, that if his heart was still beating it would be breaking.

“Wait!” he called, just as she reached the door. She turned back and watched him for a moment with some surprise and just a tad bit of confusion. “What’s your name?” he asked, after another moment in which to collect his courage.

“Tamar,” she said with a smile. Then she turned and walked out the door.

Tamar, Tamar Grace. He looked at Mary Grace and finally registered how much the daughter looked like the mother. “I’m Godric,” he whispered his introduction and turned away then walked to the door.

He reached it and looked over his shoulder to see the other older woman standing by the coffin watching him with an all-too-knowing look.