D - Immortal Fire

Immortal Fire

Yes, I'm Blaze. I'm the one this little notebook came to after the
ladies. And I know what's expected of me. I doing what's expected of
me, but for these ladies I'd do anything. I haven't read Dakita's, and
I never will, but I'll tell my side. Prhaps you'll understadn by the
end of it why I wont read Dakita's.

Do I want to begin where the others did? Begin at the beginning? Begin
at my beginning? Nah. It's not that interesting, not really. I'll begin
at Jack's.

Imagine this: six foot plus Englishman, long wavy black hair, bright
blue eyes, loose black trousers, big black boots, ruffled white shirt
open to show black chest hair, black silk waistcoat undone, and smoked
glasses. I looked like a pirate to the Victorians that tried not to
notice me. In a time of chastity, a time when newlyweds were surprised
to find they didn't look the same under their clothing, a time when
woman didn't find out what sex was until a few short hours before the
wedding night, in this time, I was the devil himself. Nuns swooned at
the sight of me, and women waiting for a husband became nuns to beg
forgiveness for their lust. I'm a damn fine specimen.

I was at the docks that night. The wind brought the scent of the sea up
along the river, almost covering London's own rank odour. It was late
at night; the docks all but deserted. Wooden hulls creaked in the night
and metal funnels stood cold and silent against the starry sky. A woman
in an alley beckoned.

Dakita filled you in on this. I have sex, unlike most of my kind. It
was my way of rebelling against the moral regulations of society during
my life, if you listen to Amarantal. Those two freak me out. I'd been
single too long, and I followed the woman through the narrow streets.
You didn't look at your feet as you felt your way through the dark
alleys; you didn't want to know what you were standing in. I wore
leather gloves so that as I touched the walls I wouldn't have to know
what was attaching itself to my hands. I went through a pair a night.
I'm damn fine looking, and I intend to keep it that way.

I have morals. This may surprise a few of you, but it'll please the
ladies. 'Quis Custodiet Custodies?' Well, I do. There's no one to
police me or my kind. We're murderers. We're killers. But we're not
evil. We're not human. My sister was raped and killed at barely more
than fourteen. She was still a child. So I have my rules. I've seen how
some of our kind operates, but you can be damned sure they don't once
I'm through with them.

I don't rape. Ever. I don't hunt. Yeah, I kill, but I don't torture the
victim with warnings and sinister appearances. I don't torture. People
have the right to die with dignity, though I wish some of your kind
would remember that. Oh, and I give people a sporting chance. You know
I get most of my food? I fight for it. Hang around the right kind of
public house and wait for a brawl. If the guy I fight beats me good and
fair, he lives. I don't bear grudges. So far, three have survived by
doing this.

I'm not some Coven of the Articulate Lestatian fairy tale. Lestatian
fairy tale? Fact masquerading as fiction. What this is, basically. I
can't read minds any more than you can. I don't hunt only the evildoer.
Evil, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Okay, so I killed
that rapist. I do have some exceptions. But death is the great
leveller, the great equaliser, and I treat everyone the same.

As I said, exceptions. Rapists. No man should do that. And I was going
to kill this prostitute, though mostly just because I was hungry. Maybe
a little of the society had rubbed off on me, I always looked down on
those who sold bodies, whether their own or other peoples. Something I
share with Jack.
That was the night I first saw Jack. It was his first murder. I didn't
know anything then, but by the fourth girl I was somewhat irate. I took
to hanging around the district, waiting for him. I could recognise him
in the dark by then, though I hadn't the faintest idea of what he
looked like.

I watched him leave Mary Jane Kelly's lodgings, and followed him a
little way. Dakita's wrong, he wasn't smeared with blood. That was on
the apron. I caught up with him and walked a little behind him, a
little to his right. This always unnerves people, though I don't
usually do it to a victim. I was angry with this gentleman.

We reached a small alley, one of many, and he turned to me. "This leads
to a dead end, sir. Why do you follow me?"

"Because you killed those girls." I did not expect his reaction.
Denial, or boasting, either I was prepared for, but his tears in a time
when men didn't cry floored me. I just stood there, in all my
pirate-like glory, watching the tears splash to the floor. He had a lot
of tears, did Jack.

"Why did I do it? They were sinners, they had to be forgiven. But now I
never shall be. Are you the devil" (told you!) "come to claim me? I am
all wrong inside. Why did she spurn me? Why am I so wrong inside, so
very wrong?" After a lot of babbling and sobbing, I finally realised
that Jack had been spurned by a lady, felt revulsion at the idea of
sex, and was probably gay. And I realised that he was very, very
beautiful.

I never bothered with those Victorian Sensibilities. Oscar Wilde's
preferences never bothered me. I'm not gay, ask Dakita, but I don't
mind dabbling a little. And a guy as beautiful as Jack? He was
practically a girl. Like Dakita (?) said, my kind appreciates beauty.
Beauty fades with time, usually. Sometimes we see something, and we
have to keep it beautiful. Like collectors, we seek out the most
beautiful works of art, restore them if they are in any way damaged,
and we preserve them for future generations. And I preserved
Jack.

That's the cold, emotionless way of looking at it. Ok, so love at first
sight is lust at first sight, but I was lonely and Jack roused more
compassion in me than anyone before him. I held him as he cried,
comforted him, changed him. And then he left me.

We met up a few times after that. He fell in with the Old Blood crowd,
but they weren't really my type. I'm not New Blood, I don't follow the
fashions, but I certainly don't stick to the same thing the whole time.
I'm the rebel without a cause, the antagonist and protagonist of every
era, the... You get the picture. The only time I felt kinda out of it
was when Punk came into fashion. I'm not a punk, but there was a little
too much leather around for me to feel like wearing it.

It was during the Wall Street Crash that Jack became rich. Pulled out
just in time, with that sixth sense our kind have. I've borrowed money
from him from time to time. It wasn't until recently that he shed the
pipe, sideburns and top hat, and everything else so stereotypical of
his age. He looks like 'bachelor of the year' now. Still as beautiful
as ever. Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one who can see the guilt
and pain still swimming just below the surface. I'd hate to think what
would happen if anyone hurt him now. He still carries that kosher knife
wherever he goes.

At this time, me and Jack were getting on ok. Better than ok really,
since Id set up this band and 'borrowed' him to play piano. Yeah, I
know I can, but someone needed to play guitar. We wrote some lyrics,
made some money, had some fun, and then boom! We fell out. Girl who
called herself Xanthia. I think her real name was Jane. Long white
dresses, too much eye make up, back lipstick, stiletto heels, brain of
a peahen. Would follow anyone with bright enough plumage. But she was a
great lay, so I kept her around. Jack took exception to this, and since
I had grown bored of the band thing, I saw it as an excuse to quit. I'm
not good at backing down, and wasn't exactly prepared to tell Jack that
the band wasn't turning out to be quit as fun as I had hoped.

I met Dakita in Wales, in a lonely village on a mountainside. Not
really my kinda place, but it wasn't so bad. I was sitting above a
mere, a beautiful lake in which I could see every star reflected a
thousandfold in its beauty, and then a silhouette blocked some out on
the other side of the lake.

I didn't get there in time, but I was close enough to here her whisper
"I'm going where you can't touch me, devil take your soul, father" as
she fell forwards. She was barely eleven, by my reckoning.

That's the sort of thing that makes me mad. Who needs monsters like us,
when there are monsters like you? Vampires, Werewolves, all of those
monsters, the sexual metaphors people claim us to be, we're nothing to
what you can do. The unicorn that only approaches virgins; note the
horn? The long, pointed, single horn. Hmm, am I the only one who saw
that metaphor? She was holding a silver unicorn, but she dropped it as
she fell forwards. I still have it. My sister's favourite animal was
the unicorn.

It didn't take long to find the house from which she came. Her father
wanted her. I killed him, no preamble, no banter, and no fun. Then
Dakita arrived.

Turned out she'd been following me for a while. On the way to Wales
Xanthia and I had come across this gypsy camp. The fortune-teller
wasn't half-bad. She told Xan to flee my company at once or she would
die. Too true, I killed her that night and made her one of us. Then we
slaughtered the gypsies. We weren't alone in doing this, I hasten to
add, and those killed were all eaten. There was about thirty of us,
followers I'd picked up when with The Band. As we made our way to Wales
our numbers slowly fell until it was just Xan and I. Dakita was having
a bit of fun thinning the herd. Well, slaughtering the herd really.
Twenty-eight vamps in half that many nights. She enjoys her job, does
Daki. I noticed she didn't mention any of this in her 'tale'. And yeah,
we did leave the children.

"You killed him." She pointed out.

"He deserved it," I told her, taking off my sunglasses to get a better
look at this 'predator' in the dingy room.

"Many who live deserve death, and some who die deserve life, Can you
give it to them?" Tolkien. Oh joy. We kept talking. She wasn't willing
to kill me just yet, and I was making her question herself. Dakita has
just about as much patience with humans as she has with vampires. I
even lied to her, just to get her riled up. I don't make exceptions,
ever.

She told me she'd heard a bit of The Band's music, and made some crack
about Elvis. I went along with it, enjoying her deepening confusion.
Goddamn, was Dakita sexy! She was smart too. She said she understood
why they called me 'the barbarian'. No one was supposed to know about
that. I had left it with my life in that alley, over a century before.
She was very interesting.

I moved closer, to see how she would react. Flirting, wiggling my hips
slightly (god I love leather!) and putting on that growly voice that's
made women faint before. She took a step back. We were both pretty
aroused, and of course, being male, my attraction was all too obvious.
She was blushing. Six thousand years old, and she was blushing. God I'm
good.

I even remember the lines I used to get her to uncross her legs that
night.
"Remember the sweet English rose? The innocent maiden, the blushing
bride, the perfect wife? Not these loud, sexually charge American
women, always on top. We were a quiet, elegant, refined people. They
rebelled against us!" Innocent, her? Not likely. But blushing, that she
was definitely doing. Clashed with her own hair.

"What are you on!?" Don't you love it when they give you a line like
that? She was positively asking for it!

"You."

She was a damn fine lay. Xanthia was done and dusted, as far as I was
concerned. Here was a lady who'd keep me happy who months! Xanthia was
done and dusted as far as Dakita was concerned as well. With emphasis
on the dusted.

I was walking in the shadows, up towards the caravan where Xan and I
had been sleeping. It was pretty classy, really, but not my kinda
thing. A lot of things, it seems, aren't my kinda thing. Guess I'm just
picky like that. I watched as Dakita set light to it and shoved it into
the lake. Xan was dust before it even hit he water. Sometimes I wonder
if she wasn't the lucky one.

Once the sun had set, I walked over to where Dakita had been sleeping.
A bit of banter, her heels in my chest, and we shagged again. I've
still got the scars from those heels. Two small holes in my chest, a
very dark red. Makes an interesting story, when someone asks. Yeah, an
ex-girlfriend shoved her stilettos into my chest. Tried to kill me she
did.

We ended up living in the cottage. Not the best of abodes, and
certainly not where I'd have chosen, but neither of us had a lot of
money (that we were willing to spend) and it was free. The villagers
stayed away from it, as most of them always had.

I fell in love with her. I didn't want to, but I did. I knew damn well
that she'd kill me one day, or that I'd kill her. We fought often,
sparring in the kitchen. It always ended well, but one day it wouldn't.
It was that bittersweetness, I think, that made me fall for her. I love
what I can't have. We hunted my kind together. I often do, and being
neither Old nor New Blood, I felt no guilt at killing any of them.
There are some of us who don't bother with any philosophy, except
perhaps revenge.

Then Jack turned up. Dakita had been working herself up to tell me
something, and oh God was I afraid of what it was going to be. The
words 'It'll never work, one of us has to die' kept going through my
head, or variations on that theme.

Jack told me he was sorry for driving me away. He told me he was sorry
for what he said. He told me he was sorry for his reaction to Xanthia.
I told him it was all a moot point. Xanthia was done and dusted, as was
the band. Then he asked if it had been the Vampire Predator. I told him
yes.

I hit dangerous territory then. I really didn't want to lie to him, but
he was not one to take my laying down with Dakita laying down. I did
tell him, in the end, straight out.

"I'm sleeping with the Vampire Predator. Jack, I think I'm in love with
her."

"You told me once that there was no such thing as love, only
lust."

"I can admit when I was wrong."

Jack blanched at that, and I saw the Ripper emerge. He always has been
unstable, but I've been the only one to push him over the edge since he
died. That's how I know he still carries that kosher knife.

Maybe he did mean to kill me, but was so wrapped up in it forgot I was
a vampire, or maybe he clung to just enough sanity to stop himself. As
the knife plunged up to its hilt into my stomach and was dragged
upwards, I realised what had been bothering Dakita. She was only bloody
pregnant! I collapsed onto the ground, twitching, as Jack tried to pick
which organ he would remove. He'd only ever done this to women before,
and lacking a uterus he just couldn't make up his minds. Yes, minds.
The rational, sane Jack was still trying to stop, but the emotional one
was raring to go.

I have no lungs now, and only one kidney. Luckily, it was nothing I
needed. I told him that I thought Dakita was pregnant, and he
stopped.

"Pregnant? You know that that's impossible." The sane Jack
re-emerged.

"She's been acting kinda weird, and she's still young."

"Too young."

"She's old enough legally." Jack's face clouded over. "You have to help
her."

"I will."

With that, he walked away. And where did all this take place? A shallow
cave on the side of the mountain. As I lay there, trying to heal, for
the next few months, the worst pain was in my heart. As I shrank a
little further back each day as summer approached and the shadows
shortened, I hated her. She had been unfaithful. I had loved her, and
she had been unfaithful. Vampires can't have children, so it must have
been some living Welsh bastard.

As soon as I could walk, I left that Godawful country and have never
returned. I avoid the Welsh in general, even that guy on the news. I'll
never know who it was, and that's probably for the best. I have an
impressive scar from navel to collarbone, but the scars people always
ask about are the two just over my heart, where the woman I loved
punctured my defences.

Dakita died in childbirth. The child ended up in an orphanage, but was
quickly adopted by a pleasant couple. I found this out from Jack. He's
keeping something from me, but I don't care what. Sometimes I wonder if
I've actually forgiven him yet, other times I wonder if I was actually
mad at him. I've seen Dakita in her most recent reincarnation, but I
still can't talk to her. There's nothing to say.

I am Blaze, and I stalk the nights like a thief of light, killing
indiscriminately and exorcising my hatred on the deserving. I am the
devil himself, and I send to hell those that belong there, and I am
Blaze.