Feed the Flames

-celine’s pov-

On November 30th, 1948, on Somerton Beach, Glenelg, just outside of Adelaide, Australia, sometime around 7 PM, a couple was taking a stroll. They noticed a man sitting back against the seawall maybe sixty feet away with his legs crossed out in front of him. He lifted his right arm weakly and then dropped it back to the ground. The couple simply assumed the man was drunk, and paid him no attention. At 7:30 that night, another couple saw the same man in a similar position, back against the seawall, his legs crossed in front of him. He was no longer moving even though mosquitoes swarmed his face. The couple joked to one another that this unidentified man must be ‘dead to the world’ before the couple assumed he was simply in a drunken stupor and ignored him, walking on their way.

On the morning of December 1st, 1948, the deceased body of this man was found. He was sitting against the seawall, slouched forward, with a half-smoked cigarette lying on his lapel and another tucked behind his ear. He was dressed in a rather nice suit with a red and blue tie, shined shoes and a brown double-breasted jacket. In his pockets were a used bus ticket, an unused rail ticket from the city to Henley Beach, a narrow aluminum American comb, a half-empty packet of Juicy Fruit chewing gum, an Army Club cigarette packet containing Kensitas cigarettes, and a quarter-full box of Bryant & May matches. Based on rigor mortis, it was asserted that he died no sooner than 2 AM the previous night. An autopsy revealed a perfectly healthy man with broad shoulders and no heart complications. The only strange thing found was the extensive lividity –blood pooling- in the back of his head, suggesting he had spent a considerable amount of time on his back after dying, which was quite the opposite of the sitting position he was found in. No organ failure, no strange substances, nothing; not even a solid cause of death. The pathologist assumed he was killed by some bizarre poison -perhaps Digitalis or Ouabain- but there was no trace of any poison in his system.

January 14th, 1949, a brown suitcase was found at the Adelaide Railway Station. The items inside were a red checked dressing gown, slippers, underpants, pajamas, shaving items, a light brown pair of pants with sand in the cuffs, a screwdriver, and a knife and scissors which had both been filed into sharp points. A coat had front reinforcement and stitching only used on garments made in the US. There were no socks in the suitcase. Among these items was a thread card of Barbour brand orange waxed thread. It was a rather unusual type of thread. The suitcase was directly linked to the Somerton man because of this thread. The same kind of thread –color and all- had been used to stitch up the lining in one of the pockets of the Somerton Man’s pants. Any identification tags on the clothes had been removed aside for a few that had the name T. Keane, and one just Kean, on them. The police believed that these tags were only left because whoever removed the other tags knew this was not the true identity of the deceased.

In April of 1949, police found a small, rolled up piece of paper in a tiny pocket sewn into the deceased man’s pants. Two words were printed on the piece of paper ‘Tamam Shud’. Library officials identified this text as the words on the final page of a Persian novel called The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. The very book the piece of paper was torn from had been thrown into the backseat of a man’s unlocked car on the very afternoon the Somerton Man died. It was an extremely rare first edition of Edward Fitzgerald’s translated version of The Rubaiyat, published in New Zealand. The theme of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam is that one should live life to the fullest and have no regrets when it ends. This poem lead police to believe the Somerton Man had committed suicide by poison.

In the back of this rare copy of The Rubaiyatwas a code. A code that, 65 years later, still hasn’t been cracked. I believe this mostly to be because this very rare copy of The Rubaiyat, was lost by the police in the 1960s and no one has been able to find a Fitzgerald version of the book since. But alongside the code, was a phone number. A phone number that led police to a woman who lived not far from Somerton Beach. When questioned by police, she told them she had no idea who the man was, and asked to not have her identity revealed, and so she was known as Jestyn. She said she had never seen the man before, and was very reluctant to speak to the police. Jestyn did admit to the police that she gave a copy of The Rubaiyat to a man named Alfred Boxall, who had been an officer while Jestyn was an army nurse during the war. She said she inscribed the back with a poem and signed it with her nickname: ‘Jestyn’. The police deemed the unidentified deceased man to be Alfred Boxall, but were highly disappointed when five days later, Alfred Boxall walked into the police station, alive and well, also bearing the very copy of The Rubaiyat that Jestyn had given him, with the poem written in the back and all.

Later, Jestyn was brought back to the station and faced with a plaster cast of the Somerton Man’s face, she seemed completely taken aback, to the point where police thought she might faint. Her reaction was chalked up to being faced with the face of a dead man, but others believe otherwise. Jestyn was not married when she was asked if she could identify the Somerton Man, but was living with a man who she later went on to marry, Prosper Thompson, who was going through a divorce. Prosper’s divorce was finalized in 1950, and he married Jestyn, whose real name was not revealed until 2002. Jessica Ellen Thompson–at the time of the investigation, Jessica Ellen Harkness.

Over time, Jessica’s daughter, Kate Thompson, has come forward. She believes her mother was romantically involved with the Somerton Man, and that both were part of a Soviet spy ring. Kate Thompson also believes her older brother, Robin, was conceived during her mother’s alleged romance with the Somerton Man during 1946, and therefore believes Robin is the Somerton Man’s son.

Jessica Ellen Thompson died in May of 2007, and her son Robin died in March of 2009.

I carry a lot in information around in my head, but…this case has always been something I’ve fawned over ever since I read about it in an old book about unsolved mysteries. When everything is piled together, it seems like a lot of information. It seems like a very thorough, completely solvable investigation. But the truth is, there is absolutely nothing useful there. The rare edition of The Rubaiyat was lost by the police and the brown suitcase –along with its contents- was destroyed by police. There is absolutely no evidence linking the Somerton Man to anyone on this earth, except for the memories of a dead woman. His teeth matched no dental records; his face was recognized and positively identified by absolutely no one. He was a god damn ghost. He still is.

Imagine that: a human being walking this earth. He sees other people on a daily basis, he talks with other people if only to buy a train ticket, and while he has belongings he has nothing else. Anyone can have something that belongs to them, but very few can say they belong to nothing, themselves. No home. No one to miss him. No one to wonder where he is. Nothing to tie his name to any one person or any one place.

He doesn’t even have a name.

He doesn’t even have a fucking name.

Imagine not having that; the one thing that gives you a place on this earth; the one thing that everyone knows you by…. Imagine being an absolute ghost.

I want that.

Most people…they aspire to be like some celebrity, some actor, some singer, some author, some…some other person, but I aspire to have the anonymity of an unidentified dead man.

Celine Aldriel Pavus. That’s not the name of a ghost. That’s the name of a girl whose family owns a successful law firm. Pavus, for fuck’s sake, is the fucking Latin word for peacock.

‘Wait, Aldriel is your middle name? Seriously? So how many gold blocks was your mansion built with?’ I heard Mason’s voice in my head, and I let out a sigh against the book resting over my face. ‘C’mon, I’m just fucking with you.’ The water I was in was cold but not as freezing as it had been when I first got in. I liked cold baths. Usually because they slowed my heartrate and dulled me, but now that I had no heartbeat I had no affinity for cold baths, only the habit of drawing them. I had been sitting in the bath for two hours now, having stopped reading a while ago and just let the book rest on my face, blocking out all light and letting that old book smell slither through my senses. ‘I don’t understand why you’re so focused on being invisible. Who doesn’t want to be someone? Whether you’re a kid or a senior citizen, everyone dreams of becoming famous or at least getting their fair cut of the world. But you don’t want any of that. In fact, you want less, if that’s possible.’ Ignoring Mason, I pulled the book off my face and let it rest on the side of the bathtub before I moved forward in the water, turning on the hot water and flipping the metal switch under the faucet so the cold water could begin running out. Suddenly I felt a body behind me. Mason settled into the water and brought his right leg up, resting his arm on his knee as he leaned over slightly to see my face. “You know, even the Somerton Man is someone.” At the words I couldn’t help but smile, and Mason mirrored it, putting an arm around my shoulders as he pulled me back against his chest.

“Not before he died.” I finally whispered, and Mason let go of my shoulders, picking up my book from the side of the bathtub.

“The thing is,” He began, sounding as if he was rather confident in what he was saying. “Even no one is someone. There will always be someone who knows your face, your name, your touch.”

‘What happens when a vampire who’s been alive for thousands of years dies? When their body is found somewhere, in a house, or on the side of the road, in a river, or…on a beach? What do the cops do with this person who was reported missing thousands of years ago, who has only just now shown up?’

Mason was quiet for a moment, and when he answered me, his words were slightly confused. “Are you wondering if the Somerton Man is a vampire?”

Letting out a slow breath, I shook my head. I don’t want to be in this school forever, repeating these same grades over and over. I want to leave but…when I do, I’ll disappear. My parents care enough to start a missing persons case, and if I have it my way, I’ll never be found. But what happens when I eventually am? When the end inevitably comes for me? ‘I’m wondering if we’ll wind up like him some day. By the time we die, we’ll be nothing more than a mystery, will we? When I go missing, my parents will search for me. But maybe a thousand or two thousand years from now, all data relevant to me will be gone, surely. I’ll be some missing person who has no past or present, no history at all. There will be nothing linking me to this earth.’ I was smiling by the end of my thoughts. I may not be a ghost now, but over time, I would become one. The thought was comforting.

Mason’s voice returned to my thoughts, his words echoing through my head. ‘To be honest, I don’t know what happens to vampires when we’re found after we die. I’ve always assumed our bodies decay about ten times faster than the normal human and so even if we’re found we’re just bones, if that. Now that I think about, even after all the vampires I’ve killed, I don’t think I’ve ever stuck around after. To see what happens, that is. Usually the exhilaration of a kill moves my body to a different location before I even know what’s happening.’ His words reminded me of what he said to Donald as he killed him. When Donald was ranting about how rogues were such murderers, and such messy killers…asking Mason when would there be enough bodies…asking him when the carnage would be enough… His answer still bounced around my skull, an almost unwelcome guest amidst my thoughts.

‘You’ve kill so many you’ve lost count, haven’t you?’ My thoughts weren’t malicious or condescending towards Mason in any way, just…curious. How many Jane and John Doe’s were out there because of Mason? How many families had experienced the loss of a dead loved one because of Mason?

For a good minute, I didn’t receive an answer. Truthfully, I didn’t expect one. I expected a chuckle, a statement that perhaps that was not information I should hear, and nothing more would be said. But no. ‘I have a lot of blood on my hands, I know. Too much to ever measure, even by a body count.’

Being a vampire…that was difficult. It had to be. Killing people so you, yourself, could sustain a life wasn’t something a lot of people would be very keen to. I hadn’t killed anyone yet. Someone had been killed on my behalf, yes, but I’d been getting blood from the blood bags Gerard and the guys get. My hands were relatively clean. To be honest I wasn’t quite looking forward to the day when Mason and I broke off from the others, and I would have to kill to live. Mason, however, almost seemed to take pleasure in another’s death. ‘Do you like hurting other people?’

Again, I was answered with silence, but the silence held out longer this time. I knew he was thinking. Wondering why I’d ask such a thing. Wondering what the consequences of an answer that frightened me would be. ‘I don’t think anyone does. I don’t like hurting people, no. Hurting suggests pain is inflicted over a certain amount of time. Killing someone is very different than hurting someone. When you hurt someone, it’s intentional. You want them to feel pain. When you kill someone, it’s instantaneous. You don’t want them to suffer. Why ask me that?’ At Mason’s answer I repositioned myself, turning around so that I was straddling his thighs as I looked at him. A curious look resided on his face.

‘Do you get used to it? The bodies? The blood? The carnage?’ At this, Mason seemed to realize why I was asking. His expression softened and he put his arms loosely around my waist.

“Yes. You do. You eventually become completely desensitized to it all.” His tone was even, his eyes staring into mine, and not through me. His voice was serious. “You’ll snap someone’s neck without a second thought. Once you feel their blood under their skin…everything else will be lost.” His words were no more than a whisper by the end of his sentence, and I slowly nodded, understanding. “But I will never make you kill someone. I will never force your hand. If you want you can live off bags of blood for as long as you want. I can get them for you whenever, and that will be completely fine with me. You will never have to kill if you don’t want to.”

My eyes flickered between his for a moment, and I realized just how much emotion could be lost in those pupil-less, black and white eyes. But he made up for it with the rest of his face. He was expressive, and right now, his warm expression radiated comfort. “Never?” The word was soft over the running water, but I knew he heard as he smiled and brought his hands up, taking my face gently.

“Never.” He closed the space between our lips slowly, his hands slithering up my back and over my shoulder blades. Just as our lips met, however, I pushed myself away from him, and he froze as he watched me.

‘Someone else is here.’ I could feel them. Their blood transitioning in their body. But it was strange. First the sense of blood was small. A creature, and then it grew to a human size. From bird to man. ‘Frank.’

“That motherfucker, I’ll crack his goddamn-” I quickly latched a hand over Mason’s mouth, holding up my index finger as I shook my head.

‘You will do no such thing. I know what he does, now. Let me go talk to him. Alone.’ I got off Mason, but just as I stepped out of the water Mason grabbed my hand, his eyes confused.

“Let me come with you.” The statement was firm. An order. A command. But I would not abide.

‘I know his tricks, Mason. I know what he’s capable of. If my head gets clouded, you can come running, but I need to speak with him alone.’ I was capable of handling myself until I lost control of the situation. I’ve told myself I needed to talk with Frank forever now, but I’d put it off and put it off because I didn’t want to hear it. I knew he’d make excuses for his behavior, but now…it was time to face some demons. Mason was not pleased at this, and he pursed his lips for a moment. I knew he was debating just getting out of the bath and walking into my room and beating Frank into a bloody mess, but he couldn’t do that just yet.

Finally, Mason let out a huff of resignation. I shook my head slightly at him and grabbed the towel from the rack, drying off before I grabbed my clothes and pulled them on, feeling Mason’s eyes watching my every move. Tossing the slightly damp towel back onto the rack, I looked back at Mason. ‘Only come if I lose control.’

“Well…” He looked down into the water, splashing his hands softly against the surface before turning his attention to the few bottles of body wash and shampoo on the shelf built into the shower wall. “You got anything that’ll make bubbles?” He asked softly, his eyes scouring bottles, and I couldn’t help but smile at his words, and quickly leaned down and kissed his head.

‘Don’t make a mess’ I thought silently, and Mason sighed, crossing his arms as he sunk down in the water slightly, his mood dampened by Frank’s arrival, no doubt.

“Yeah, yeah, just go talk with Bird Boy.” I was already turning and walking out the door at his words.

As I exited the bathroom, immediately in front of me was Frank, sitting with his legs crossed on my bed, the book I was currently reading in his hands. The Final Demand by a polish author whose name I hadn’t a chance in hell at pronouncing.

“I see you finished Asunder.” His voice was even as he spoke, and I went over and sat down next to him. I refused to be afraid of him, and as he turned the page, he didn’t look at me. I reached over and grabbed my notebook and pen from the nightstand. He did not deserve my words anymore.

‘Did you come to spew excuses, beg my forgiveness, and force unnatural feelings upon me? Or is this just a courtesy call so you can tell me you won’t stop chasing me?’ I tilted the notepad so he could read it, and as he put down the book, and read over my words swiftly.

With a heavy sigh, he shook his head. “What happened to us?” He looked up at me, and I at him, and his eyes seemed to glisten in the dark, the light from the window sparkling in them. “We went from reading on the roof and seeing one another every day, to not seeing one another for days and days.” I looked down at my notepad for a second, and started writing a few lines down the page.

‘There never was an ‘us’. Don’t you see that? It was just an illusion, Frank. Just a mess of feelings and force that you brought upon me. Just a lie-’ Frank took my hand suddenly, and made me stop writing.

“Can you just stop, for a damned moment here?” He laughed slightly, but it was disbelieving. It was like he couldn’t believe I was throwing him down the road so easily. “Jesus Christ, Cell.” He let go of my hand, the chuckle dying down. “I came here to fucking apologize. Not to read your condescending words about what I did. I know it was wrong. I know it was awful and the worst possible thing I could’ve done to you but…” Frank’s expression suddenly warmed up slightly as he shook his head. “I only made you love. Love…that was the only feeling I instilled in you. You were so fucking tense and wound up, jumping at every sound…but around me, I could make those things go away just with the one emotion. That’s all I did. Anything else you felt around me was on your own volition. I swear to you.” At this, my temper moderated. He sounded genuine, and at current, I felt nothing towards him. I took to the notepad.

‘In the beginning, maybe what we had was something. Maybe it was real. At this point, I don’t even know what was real and what wasn’t. But if it was, and if we were to continue to ever have anything, then what we had would’ve never been able to evolve. It would’ve had to stay as just the two of us, sitting on the roof reading DeRosa Taper until the sun came up. But since you violated what we had as you did, we’ll never find out, because all these emotions towards you are tainted, and nothing you can do will wash that away.’ I shifted the notepad so he could read, and as he read the words, I could tell by the look on his face that he knew just as well as I did that it was true.

As he brought his eyes up to mine, they were truly sincere, and they held nothing but compassion. “I don’t ask you to take me back. I recognize what I did destroyed whatever remnants of love that happened to reside in us, but…I do ask that you put it behind you. Behind us. If you want to bury it all, I won’t chase you. I won’t bother you with it. I won’t stretch your emotions around ever.”

I had to admit I was rather shocked. I expected him to fall to his knees and beg my forgiveness. Tell me how he was so sorry, and spout lies. Maybe even manipulate my emotions a bit more. Get me to turn against Mason, even. But to see Frank actually acting like a human being, I was…taken aback, at the least.

Before I could take to my notepad, Frank stood up from the bed, putting The Final Demand on my nightstand. “Really, I only came to tell you that Mikey may have found a cure.” Just as soon as I heard the words, I stood up, coking my head to the side.

“For…us?” I questioned, leaving my notepad and pen on the bed, and Frank nodded shortly, as if it was obvious.

“Yeah. For vampires. Replacing the blood in a vampire’s body may be able to make vampires human. He thinks your ability will be able to draw our blood out and force human blood in.” Frank’s sentences sounded slightly rushed as he spoke and finally took a step towards me. “Can you imagine that? Maybe if we figure out it works, maybe you can do it to yourself, too maybe-” Before he could even finish his sentence I began shaking my head, already knowing what I was going to say to his proposition. “What?” Frank’s expression fell quickly, his eyes widening. “Wh-why? I mean, if you can, then why not-”

“Because,” Mason’s voice sounded from behind me, and I glanced back to see him walking out of the bathroom; clothed, though his hair was wet. “She knows who will be left standing in a thousand years.” Mason stood next to me, his arms crossed over his chest. “Won’t be humans, and it won’t be normals.”

“Shut the fuck up, rogue.” Frank scoffed, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t know why Gerard let you out of that basement alive.”

Mason grinned, his eyes narrowing as if he had just accepted an unspoken challenge. “Gets under your skin, doesn’t it? Celine loving me and hating you…” As Mason spoke the words, I could see Frank lock his jaw and grit his teeth. Suddenly, Mason’s expression began faltering. His eyes widening slightly, though I could tell whatever was happening, he was fighting it.

“Frank,” I began warningly, seeing Mason’s eyes tear up, and he suddenly clasped his hand onto my arm.

“You goddamn son of a bitch you…” Mason’s voice was shaking as his eyes watched Frank, who was only staring at Mason through a sharp glare. Mason’s hand was gripping my arm so hard I could feel his fingertips pressed against the bones in my forearm. His hand was shaking as his face was twisting up in fear.

“Frank!” I raised my voice and Frank opened his eyes, looking at me swiftly and just as fast Mason returned to normal, blinking tears from his eyes. I could tell he was only barely keeping himself from jumping on Frank.

“Please rethink your decision.” Frank whispered to me, and then took a large step towards the window. But when his right foot should’ve followed, just as I blinked he was replaced with a black crow. Flapping his wings as he landed on the windowsill, the bird let out a loud caw before flying off out of the open window.

As soon as he was gone I turned my attention to Mason, stepping in front of him, letting him put his hands on my shoulders as he blinked away tears, a joking smile coming to his face. “Goddamn…bastard got me with the…helpless feeling. I’ve got to get better with my emotions.” He let his hands fall from my shoulders as he quickly wiped at his eyes, shaking his head as if to shake the bits and pieces of Frank’s forced emotional state out of him. “A cure though. That’s big news.”

‘Good for you too, right? Less normals in the world, though a few more humans.’ I wondered if this would possibly change Mason’s view on any of the guys, but in a way I already knew the answer.

Mason ran a hand through his wet hair, scraping it from his forehead. “If given the…you know, if given the option to not be…” Mason seemed to struggle through his words, like he couldn’t figure out how to construct the right sentences. “Would you do it, if there was a way?” As he brought his eyes to mine, I noticed he looked almost fearful. Was he afraid?

“No.” I whispered firmly, putting one hand on the side of his neck and the other against his cheek. “No.” I repeated, and my words seemed to calm him, but curiosity overtook his features, shining through the cracks in his relief.

“Really?” He questioned, bringing up a hand to rest over mine as he pressed his cheek further into my palm. “You…you like being this? Really?”

‘It’s not about what I am, Mason. It’s about who I’m with. I don’t want to do anything that would decrease the time I have left with you.’ I couldn’t help but smile with my words, the expression only growing wider as Mason grinned in return, moving his hands into my hair as he leaned into my face.

“You would give up your humanity to be with me?” His voice was questioning, but his words already had a certainty to them. “You know I’m not worth that, right?”

‘The words on the piece of paper; the piece of paper ripped from The Rubaiyat that was found in the Somerton Man’s pocket, -tamam shud- do you know what those two words meant?’ I questioned silently and Mason shook his head, his answer floating through my thoughts.

‘No. What do they mean?’ He tilted his head slightly in curiosity, and I was lost in his eyes in a matter of seconds.

‘They mean ‘The end’ Finished. Done.’ I leaned in close to Mason’s lips, letting them graze across mine. ‘Though I know it’s coming, I never want us to have a tamam shud.’ At that, Mason smiled against my lips before kissing me, a soft, but strong feeling. An addicting feeling.

As I felt Mason’s hands move from my hair and take my thighs, lifting me so I could wrap my legs around him and my hands leaving his face as I wrapped my arms around his neck. Mason pulled away from my lips if only for a second, a smile on his face that met his eyes, the expression almost a smirk. A smirk I wanted to stay on his face forever. It was an expression that summed up his personality well. An expression that summed up him. “If I have my way, we’ll never see an end.”