My Guardian Vampire

The door opened, and a portentous looking man stepped forth, his large stature looking odd stuffed into a well-made suit. Dark hair was slicked back over a sharply-featured face, reminding me of a butler on steroids. His glower made me halt a moment, and I paused too long.

“You look like a bulldog stuffed into a fancy sausage,” Tré said, and I internally facepalmed.

‘Never give Tré time to speak,’ I reminded myself. I grinned sheepishly by way of apology. His expression didn’t stir.

“Ah, my name is Ali Cryptcarde, and I was-”

“I know who you are,” he said, his tone deadpan. “What do you want?” My mouth opened for a moment, caught, before I steeled myself.

“I’m here to see Damien,” I said, taking a deep breath. He shook his head.

“No thank you,” he said, and began to shut the door. Mike put his hand on it, stopping him.

“That wasn’t a yes or no question,” Mike said.

“It doesn’t even make sense to say ‘no’ in response,” Tré said, looking puzzled. Big Scary Man ignored him.

“Damien is far too busy-” he said, before suddenly becoming silent, unmoving. Tré and I exchanged confused glances.

“Uh,” Tré hazarded, before the man lifted his massive hand to shush us, sighing.

“Damien will see you now,” he said, before turning around. Tré and I shrugged, before following him inside. “I’ve been told to give you all a brief tour. Here it is.” We walked through the small entryway into a living room. It looked… pretty fancy, but normal. Like a high-class version of my own childhood home. Somehow there were even windows. There seemed to be large curtains that likely dimmed out the light, but it seemed odd that they’d even risk it. Big Scary Man abruptly turned and halted. “This is the only room I’ll be taking you to on our tour. Look at it all you like. No, I won’t be answering any questions. No, I won’t be bothering to take you anywhere else. And no, neither of those points are negotiable. I’ll give you two minutes to look around so Damien actually thinks I gave you a tour. The bathroom is through that door if you need it.”

“Gotta pee!” Tré hollered as I heard the bathroom door slam, making me chuckle. Again, Big Scary man seemed unfazed. I figured I might as well try to make nice.

“I’m sorry you have to cart us around,” I said, giving my best apologetic look. He didn’t seem to buy it, but shrugged.

“Part of the job.” He then looked at his watch and exhaled deeply. “You humans are all the same.”

I was taken aback, but tried to keep neutral. “What do you mean?” He then glanced at me for the first time, frowning. It was hard for his frowns not too look menacing, but I think he was just annoyed.
“You in particular-” he began, before the bathroom door slammed open.

“I’m baaaaaack! Tré sang. Big Scary Man’s jaw flexed visibly in aggravation, and he turned his dark-eyed stare back to me.

“Do you have to use the restroom? Please do so now.” I nodded, deciding not to push the subject as much as I wanted to. Moving over to the bathroom, I gave Tré an irritated glance from the interruption, but his eyes seemed to convey something else, hungry to talk. Getting the meaning, I moved over and hugged him.

“Aw, Tré, no I’m not mad at you,” I said aloud as I leaned into him. Tré took the close moment to lean into my ear, whispering quietly, his voice serious.

“The toilet is broken.”

I laughed, pulling back, but Tré’s face didn’t seem amused. I looked at him questioningly, but he moved his head, motioning for me to go inside. I moved in, and everything seemed fine. I shrugged, and lifted the backing to the toilet to see what was wrong. Inside, sitting on the framework, was… Some kind of card? I took it and inspected it, placing the cover back down.

“Sorry for your loss” the outside said in fancy script. Inside, someone had scrawled a brief message of sympathy:

“We’re so sorry for your loss. Please let us know if there is anything we can do to help make this time a little easier. We wish you the best, Damien. Much love and regards, Robert and Enid Regard.”

‘Damien lost someone recently? And… Robert Regard? The pompous wad with the caviar?’ I placed the card down and did my business, stunned. But why was this so important Tré had to hide it? When washing my hands, I noticed there were other cards. I set the one Tré had taken down next to them before inspecting the rest. They all contained similar messages—sorry, sorry, sorry. I wonder who had died? And how had the Regards known them? And who used their name as a pun in a sympathy card?

I left the bathroom quickly, figuring Big Scary Man was probably getting impatient. As soon as he saw me, he turned, motioning us with a wave of his hand to follow. Mike moved beside me, putting his hand on my back as we began to follow. He leaned over as we walked.

“Tré told me,” he murmured against my ear. “We can talk about it later.” He then swiftly withdrew, standing tall. I looked over, and saw Big Scary Man glancing back at us.

“I thought you were supposed to be with the young one?” he asked, looking back forward. I cleared my throat, feeling my cheeks heat at the misunderstanding.

“I am,” I said. “It’s not my fault if your friends don’t want to touch you.”

Big Scary Man paused, and looked back at me, his stare stopping me dead. I grinned apologetically.

“Sorry,” I said, my shoulders hunching a bit as I tried to take a step back from that look. “My mouth sometimes moves without permission and says stupid things.”

“See that it doesn’t,” he said, turning back. Mike removed his hand from my back, giving me a twinge of pain. I looked over to him, and he wouldn’t meet my stare, his eyes looking cold again. I put my hand on his back, mimicking him as I tried to lighten the mood. Those blue eyes glanced at me, and the edge of a smile formed on his lips.

‘Well… At least that’s something.’

Walking down an extended, dark hall, Big Scary Man stopped at a door that looked no different than the others. Getting out a key, he unlocked it, before turning a light on and walking down some steps. It looked like a staircase into a basement.

“Shut the door behind you,” he said, and I complied before following Mike, Tré, and Big Scary Man down onto the lower floor. It was a hallway again—this one stark white, and brightly lit. This one seemed longer than the house itself, and it felt like forever until we finally reached the next door Big Scary Man stopped at. He unlocked it, but didn’t immediately open it. “This is Kenneth. Please let me in.” After a moment, I could hear the sounds of a door unlocking.

‘It’s locked on both sides?’ I wondered. The door swung open, sounding thick and heavy. A face greeted us—and it took me a moment, but I soon recognized it.

“Jack?” I asked aloud. The face, seeing mine, instantly scowled at my presence. “You’re… the one I…”

“The one you punched at your wedding? Yeah, that was me. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

“Jack,” I heard a voice call in warning. I looked over past Jack, and Damien was sitting down at a desk. The room was large, with many bookshelves—but not quite so many I’d call it a library. More like a very large office, painted in deep grays. There were a few TV-looking screens, although they were blank, and Damien was sitting in front of a laptop. The sight… was odd, to say the least. He seemed a little old-school to be so high-tech.

“Welcome, Alexandra,” he greeted. I grimaced, but nodded to him. “And hello Frank and Michael.” I looked over, and Tré and Mike both seemed slightly agitated by the use of their full names, but stayed silent for a beat. I heard the door being shut and locked behind us as we moved into the room. Mike then cleared his throat, and then spoke.

“Hello Damien, thank you. I’m sorry to drop by like this. We have a problem on our hands that we were hoping you could help us with.”

“Oh?” Damien asked, his brow raising. “I’m happy to help. I’m sorry I haven’t spoken to you all in some time—I’ve been quite… busy, lately, with some deeply affecting matters.” I felt a little guilty; if someone important to him had died, maybe this wasn’t the best time to disturb him, let alone suspect him of kidnapping Gerard. Mike nodded.

“I’m sorry for the same. We wouldn’t have come if this wasn’t urgent.” Mike then moved towards him, sitting down. Across from him. Tré and I followed, and Tré also sat down—but I stayed standing, too tense to relax in a chair. Damien looked at me questioningly, but said nothing. Mike continued on. “Gerard has gone missing—and Vincent has taken him.”

“You’re sure of this?” Damien asked, looking surprised. “Vincent isn’t really the type to play a part in anything, let alone something directly malicious like that.”

“Yes. That was my thought initially, but then… Well, Vincent did it right in front of us. Ali even saw him afterward through Gerard. We have no doubts.”

“That’s quite disturbing,” Damien said, giving out a sigh. “I’m sorry to report, but I’ve heard nothing on this. I’ll look into it directly, though.”

“Do you have any idea who might have done it?”

“I’m afraid Ali seems to have many enemies,” he said, his eyes glancing to me briefly.

“Does she?” Mike asked, his tone low. “I thought it was just you.”

There was a pause, and I could feel all of the butts in the room clench, the statement surprisingly challenging from Mike… Especially considering we were in a locked room, with Big Scary Man and Jack the hater standing just behind me. Damien, however, didn’t seemed fazed.

“Why would I be Ali’s enemy?” Damien asked calmly, his tone curious. He then looked to me. “Ali, do you have any intention of intruding on what I have here? You didn’t seem like the power-hungry type.”

“My only intention is to get Gerard back,” I stated simply. Damien nodded, seeming placated.

“There. Now what benefit would I have to take Gerard?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Mike,” I warned, putting my hand on his shoulder. He took a breath, and visibly relaxed, hunching his shoulders.

“There is none,” Damien said. “And I will look into a matter. If Vincent is acting of his own accord—or on the behalf of someone else’s—then it is something I would like to know as well. I’d like to keep the same partnership Billie and I had, so please—consider this my favor to you.”

‘Meaning I’d owe you one right back,’ I thought, understanding. I nodded anyway, knowing any favor was worth getting Gerard back.

“Now, as for the baby,” he said, “if you’ve come for my advice on that matter, I say you should do your best to keep it, health pending.” He then turned his gaze to me directly. “Parenthood is one of the joys in life unequaled by all others. I’d hate for you to miss that, Ms. Reed.” While the sentiment seemed nice, there was a bit of venom in his voice. I didn’t understand why, and decided to ignore it, wondering if I misinterpreted the tone.

“Oh? Do you have children?” The question seemed innocent enough, but Damien gave a long, long pause before answering, his glare enough to make me sweat.

“…Yes. I do.”

“Oh,” I said, only more confused. I coughed awkwardly before filling the silence. “So… Does that mean you think I should… turn?” From the corner of my eye, I could see Mike’s stunned look. I turned to look at him. “We never really talked about it, but I know back at the hospital, when you and Gerard first found out I had cancer… Well, I know you said ‘if you don’t bite her, I will.’ I’m not stupid, Mike. I pieced together that you think the only way to save the baby and me is to be a vampire, although I don’t know why.”

Damien grinned, which disturbed me. Was the part of his brain that related emotions to facial expressions broken? “Becoming a vampire is… an interesting process. I’ve had my people studying it for a while.”

“Your people?” I asked. Damien nodded.

“Scientists that I hire. Vampires. You don’t just stop doing what you do because your diet changes,” Damien explained casually. It was then that I remembered how his constant demeanor of talking to me like a child really pissed me off. “We haven’t figured it out yet, but… It seems the duration someone has been a vampire, plus some x-factor—some innate characteristic—determines the rate that the aging process stops. We’ve theorized it to be like a viral load—when a vampire turns a human, they ‘inject’ the human with the vampire ‘virus.’ The longer the person has been a vampire, the greater the viral load. The greater the load, the faster they stop aging—the faster diseases stop, etc. If it was a new vampire, there would have been very little time for the virus to replicate—meaning the human would get a very little dose of vampirism, and it might take years for the person to stop aging. But an old vampire… Well, theoretically, they could stop you aging instantly.”

“But what does that have to do with cancer?” I asked. As much as I hated sounding… well, stupid, this was too important not to know. “And what did you mean by the x-factor?”

“The cancer would still technically be there—but it wouldn’t progress; the cells in your body would replicate as they were, and it would allow time for the baby to be born. If you’re symptom-free, you wouldn’t have to worry about it I imagine. If you’re not, you could just wait until after birth to start treatment. As for the x-factor…” He then placed his hands on the desk and stood, and walked over towards me, closing the distance between us before looking at me directly. Despite wanting my personal space, I stood firm.

“Yes?”

“Some humans seem to be born to be vampires, whether they like it or not. They’re vampirically talented from the start—faster, stronger, instant leaders with a certain talent for whatever it is they choose to do. I was one. Billie was one. Gerard was one. And, if I had to guess, I’d say you are one.” He then leaned in again, that grin still on his face. “In fact, I’d bet everything I had on it.”

Unsure of how to respond, I nodded. “So… You think I should become a vampire,” I said, the statement sounding odd out loud. Honestly, I had never really considered it before—maybe briefly, when considering the future with Gerard, but never seriously. “I’ll keep that in consideration. Although… I am curious to know how you knew of the situation.” Damien paused for a moment, before leaning back.

“I heard it through the grapevine, so to speak. News travels faster than thought in this age.”

‘You mean you’re spying on me,’ I thought, noticing his hesitation. Robert Regard was clearly more than just an acquaintance—he was Damien’s reporter. I suppose I didn’t blame him for trying to keep tabs on a potentially rival situation—and it surprised me he hadn’t had a pulse on Vincent as well.

“If you do find Gerard-” Damien began.

“When we find Gerard,” Mike corrected, interjecting. Damien gave a glum smile.

“My apologies. When you find Gerard, with my help, I do not recommend that he be the one to turn you.”

“If I decide to do that,” I added. Damien nodded again.

“If you decide to do that. I do not think he is anywhere near old enough to stop the aging process fast enough so that it would help. I would offer my services, but I doubt that would be comfortable for you, given our association.”

I nodded. Yes, that would be very weird, to say the least. “Who do you recommend?”

“Not just recommend—but assert he would be the only one aged enough to do any good. It would have to be Michael.”