Nikola shuffled off the sidewalk on to the grass, headed for his favorite tree. He sat down slowly, leaning against it like he did most days, watching the sunrise and the street gradually fill with people.
He liked watching the people, particularly the old woman who came sometimes to sit on a bench and feed the pigeons. He didn't do that anymore, but he liked to watch.
His appearance was no longer the extremely clean, well-dressed man he had been. His beard and hair were mostly gray, the hair long and lank and unwashed. He dressed in whatever the mission or the church or the Salvation Army gave him that would sort of fit; he had always been hard to fit being tall and thin. He was still tall but even thinner, almost cadaverous. He cultivated the look and a rank odor that made people leave him alone; just another old homeless guy living on the streets of New York. At least he didn't pester people for change.
It was July 9, and tonight was his 500th birthday. He had promised himself for decades to make a decision on that date, tonight as he reached that milestone. But he wouldn't think of it yet. He had the whole day to sit and watch, and think.
He wasn't particularly hungry even though he hadn't fed last night. He wanted his mind to be clear for once, and pretty much everyone sleeping rough was a wino or a junkie or both. The alcohol in their bloodstreams didn't affect him, but some of the drugs did. He particularly enjoyed the one called "Lace" and took it himself when he could corner a dealer alone and force the man to give him some. Dealers learned to stay with a friend and get off the street when it emptied or go out of business in this slum area.
PSP didn't affect him at all, and "Jolt" just gave him a headache, but "Lace" sent him into a pleasant dreamy state that passed the time. He'd passed decades of time, what else was there to do?
Nikola watched the street fill up with morning traffic; all those people rushing through their lives, going somewhere and coming back again over and over. Their lives were so short, it was a shame they wasted so much of it, but they mostly weren't even aware of what they were doing, they didn't have his perspective.
He just watched for a while. People came to the park with their children, keeping the little yelling beasts away from him, whispering in their ears so they didn't offend the bum sitting against the tree and make him angry. Half the people on the street were crazy, everyone knew that, and you never knew how any of them would react. Dogs would occasionally come up to him or want to use his tree, but even the most aggressive never came closer than a couple of meters; probably the blood smell repulsed them.
The morning wore away slowly. Nikola could see homeless people drifting down the street and knew the soup kitchen would be opening soon. He got up and drifted with them. At least the soup had been boiled, the dishes run through a commercial dishwasher and sterilized. It carried a lot fewer germs than the local drinking fountain in the park. Although what did he care about germs anymore? It was more an automatic consideration than a real concern.
The soup kitchen wasn't any more or less crowded than usual. He got in line with the others as it crept forward. He got his soup and bread and coffee and found a seat at the end of a table in the corner. Sometimes no one sat by him which he preferred, but in this company body odor wasn't unusual and his smell didn't always keep people away.
A black man who called himself George sat down across from him. He nodded to Nikola who gave one curt nod back. The vampire did his best to keep to himself, but he wasn't actually rude to the others, just not friendly. But some people couldn't take the hint, or chose to ignore it. Unfortunately George was one of the few who refused to be put off by Nikola's demeanor.
"How's it goin', Nick?" George asked while settling himself.
Nikola let the locals call him that, it was more acceptable in this neighborhood than his real name. "Nikola" sounded too uppity and snobbish, and he was neither of those things, just a man who preferred to be left alone.
"Okay" was all he replied. He didn't ask George in return how he was, Nikola didn't want a conversation. But knowing the man across from him, he would get one anyway.
"Didja hear about the monster last night?" At Nikola's little head shake George continued "It weren't too far from here, just a couple o' blocks. Chased a woman 'til she got to some young guys hangin' out. Most of them gangers ain't worth much, but they took after the thing and cornered it in a alley and beat it to a pulp. Guess they have some use after all."
Nikola nodded and kept steadily spooning up his soup. He pushed his bread over toward George who took it with satisfaction. Unfortunately the fact he never ate the bread tended to attract someone over to him nearly every lunch. The soup itself was all right for him to eat, it was mostly liquid and the vegetables and shreds of meat in it were cooked to mush. Oddly it didn't taste too bad.
Nikola wondered what kind of Abnormal had been killed. A HAP? A sasquatch? There weren't many of either left and the remaining sasquatches, if there were any, had retreated into what was left of the deep forests. But Abnormals on the surface were fair game. Helen had announced their existence what- 350 years ago? She hadn't really been believed, but sensationalism eventually won out. Videos were posted on the internet, someone captured an Abnormal, scientists not controlled by SCIU or other government agencies got involved. Eventually the courts ruled the creatures didn't have human DNA so they weren't covered under law except as property. Since no one owned most of them, it was open season.
Many had retreated back to hollow earth, but that didn't remain safe for long. They were followed by people who thought of themselves as big game hunters. But his thoughts were getting too close to what he needed to decide tonight, and he wasn't ready for it.
Nikola pushed the remaining third of his soup over toward George too who smiled at the additional food. The vampire didn't feel like working his way through the semi-solids on the bottom of the bowl. He put his cup and spoon in the dirty dish bin and went outside. His tree was waiting for him.
It was a nice day, not too hot, just a few high fluffy clouds in the sky. But he could sense the change in the air, a cooler air front would be coming through soon. Even now Nikola could see more clouds coming from the northwest.
It didn't matter to him if it rained. Rain brought quiet, people hurrying indoors and he didn't mind getting wet. He endured the heat and cold as it came, it just didn't matter that much to him. He'd been living out here for a long time, twenty years? He wasn't sure; he'd wandered around the country, around the world for so long, ever since . . .
Well he had to think about it. He'd promised himself, and the time had come. Nikola remembered he had left the Sanctuary to travel some, see the world again. He'd only been gone a few months. But when he went home everything had changed. The Sanctuary was gone.
He'd entered the underground far from the Sanctuary. But the sphere he took only went so far and then stopped. The track ahead was twisted and mangled. That was the first indication of what had happened.
It took him weeks to get there on foot. When he arrived he saw the waterfall still thundered down, the cave still stood undamaged. But the buildings were in ruins. Helen had built well, they had stood in use for nearly two centuries, but something had torn them apart.
There were beings there still, sheltering in the ruins, but no one he knew. He asked what had happened, but he got shrugs, or fearful looks. No one could tell him where any of the people who had worked and lived at the Sanctuary had gone, if they were alive or dead. They would only whisper the name of the invaders, an army of powerful beings calling themselves Destroyers who had come out of the deep caves.
Nikola searched for her. Below at first, thinking she would have escaped perhaps into the ruins of Praxis that had been partially rebuilt, but she wasn't there. Whenever he encountered Destroyers he inflicted their own name on them. He killed a great many, all in the area of the old Sanctuary. He took prisoners too, questioned them extensively, but learned nothing useful.
He went to the surface and searched. If Helen was somewhere in the world she would be marshalling her forces, reestablishing the Sanctuary and preparing to take back what was hers. But he couldn't find her. He looked on line, he searched out every strong EM field he detected with no success. Years went by.
Eventually he was left with revisiting old places they had been, hoping for a message from her, or to encounter her in one of their old haunts. But he never saw her again, nor did he find any of the people who had been working with her at the Sanctuary when it had been destroyed. He found one or two of the field agents but they had had no contact with the home base personnel either, and had built new lives.
Nikola left messages here and there. He traveled aimlessly, hoping for mere chance to give him a lead. But the likelihood of finding her or at least her fate dimmed gradually to nothing. The messages he left said to seek him in his old favorite hotel, so eventually he went to New York. His old favorite hotels had long ago been torn down, but it didn't matter, he was nearly out of funds anyway and no one would give him a room on the strength of his name alone any more.
So he stayed in his old favorite city, just surviving and waiting. It was foolish perhaps, in his head he knew she would never come, but his heart wasn't convinced. He gave himself until the age of 500; if she hadn't come by then, he had to do something else.
And tonight, in the middle of the night, he would hit the big five-oh-oh.
Nikola sat through the afternoon, watching the clouds move in, playing with bits of grass, just waiting. Was there any point in continuing his existence into tomorrow? He was alone, there wasn't a person on earth who knew him, who was his friend. He had casual acquaintances, but he cared for none of them, not like he had cared for Helen and her short-lived friends. He remembered them all, Henry and Erica, their children and grandchildren and he forgot how many times great grandchildren; Big Guy, Kate, even William and Abby, and the others that had come after, so many others.
Nigel, James and John, too. People he had known before Oxford, his family, and afterwards his scientific cronies, the Johnsons, Sam Clemens, so many more. Their images and voices rolled through his memory, centuries of friends. All gone now.
To be or not to be- that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind . . . what did he care about nobility? . . . or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them? There had been a time when he was sure he could change the world all by himself, and with his inventions he had. But Helen hadn't been able to protect the Abnormals even with all her resources, dedication, and his help- what chance would he have completely alone? Revealing his vampirism, or standing against the bulk of humanity in defense of Abnormals were both ways of committing suicide these days. He could find an easier way to die, if that was his choice.
The clouds passed without rain by the time the sun was nearing the western horizon.
Things changed in cycles. Humans were too short lived to see that, except for a glimpse as they neared the end of their years. But he saw it fully in the long arc of time he had lived. Abnormals had been unknown, then monsters, then relatively harmless curiosities, then some had been famous and feted as human side kicks in TV and movies which made them seem less real rather than more, then a little bad press and a little more, a court ruling and suddenly they were monsters again. The cycle would turn again, but by then there wouldn't be many left; maybe none at all. Did it matter, did he care? Not very much but Helen had cared, passionately, so maybe he should. She had always been better at morality than he.
The eastern sky was turning a darker, deeper blue while the west blazed with pinks and oranges in the few remaining clouds. Gradually the first stars appeared.
Nikola moved out from under the tree, back deeper into the park. It was mostly empty, a few young adults illegally drinking beer down at the far end. As long as they stayed there, he didn't care. He lay down in the grass in an open area where he could see the sky better. He wouldn't fall asleep, not tonight.
He could look across from the pale blue in the west that matched his eyes to the darker blue above him that was very like Helen's. In the east the sky was a deep, dark blue- indigo he thought it was called.
He didn't want to leave his body for the humans to find, dissect, and shudder over. He was one of the scarier monsters, although he hadn't vamped in years, and not in public in decades. Fire? No, that would attract attention and there would be something left unless he could throw himself into an incinerator. The thought did not appeal.
Water perhaps. He could just weight himself and walk out into the ocean, keep going until he drowned. It would take a while, but the body would be inaccessible; fish and crabs would take care of the flesh and what was left wouldn't be found, not for a very long time if ever. That would work.
Nikola got up and began to walk. It would take an hour or so to reach a shore where the water would be very deep not too far out. The sky darkened, the indigo creeping across, the deep blackness following it.
He was content and in no hurry. He had been born around midnight and he wanted to wait until after that- 500 was something of a milestone after all. 1,000 would have been better, but that was too long, too far away. He reached the sea wall with time to spare and stood looking down at the jumble of rocks below, the water lapping gently against them.
But as late as it was, he was not alone. There was a girl down a ways sitting curled up on the rocks. She sniffed, let out a shuddering breath, sniffed again- crying? Just what he didn't need right now. Well, one last good deed as a sop to his memory of Helen.
He hopped down off the seawall and approached her. She was young, probably not more than twenty, dark hair, her face a pale oval in the darkness. She looked up at his approach, but didn't seem afraid, foolish child. He meant her no harm but she couldn't know that.
"You shouldn't be out her alone" he said, stopping a few feet away. Even though she seemed fearless he didn't want her to try to run across the uneven rocks.
"What do you care?"
Nikola ignored the question since he couldn't say that he did. But he had time; it was still not quite midnight by his reckoning. "Do you want to talk about it?" he offered.
She shrugged and looked away. He just waited silently. Sometimes it was easier to talk to a stranger that you would never see again, and the darkness made it easier too. Nikola sat down on a rock so he wouldn't be looming over her, far enough away she couldn't smell him either.
"I . . . I had a friend. She was the only one who really listened to me, the only one who really understood me."
"No family?"
"My mother back in Illinois, but she and I are so different. She never got me, we just argued and fought all the time."
"What happened to your friend?"
"Ibetha; that was her name. I only know a little about it. She got hurt, I'm not sure how. She tried to get a lady to help her, but the woman got scared and hurried off. Ibetha was different, you know?" The girl gave him a sideways glance.
"I know. I'm a little different myself."
"Are you? You don't look different. Ibetha did. She had to hide all the time. But she could sing, oh you wouldn't believe the way she sang. She heard me practicing one day. I want to be in show business, I've been trying to get a part in the chorus; I can dance too and everything. But anyway when the woman ran away Ibetha went after her, she was the only other person by themselves out in the dark and my friend just wanted help, she would never hurt anyone."
"How do you know all this if you weren't there?"
"Ibetha told me, in my head sort of. She could sing in my head, she was helping me become a better singer. But not so much words, just feelings."
Nikola couldn't place the type of Abnormal Ibetha had been, but it didn't matter. "What happened?"
"Ibetha couldn't catch up with the woman. She gave up and started to go away when some men came running at her. She tried to escape, but she was hurt, like I said. They caught her and hit her and hit her. I could hear her screaming in my head, but I couldn't help, I couldn't do anything. I was home in bed, not even dressed, and even if I could have gotten to her instantly somehow I wouldn't have been able to help. It was horrible."
"That was last night, wasn't it? I heard about it."
"Yes, last night. I just stayed in bed all day today, crying. But I finally got up and just had to get out of there. I like to walk down here, I thought it would make me feel better, but it just makes me mad to sit here while those men are fine and Ibetha is dead."
Nikola didn't say anything. There was nothing he could do to help this child; she was just going to have to work through her grief. He was about to get up when she asked "What's your name?"
"Nick."
"My name is Helen; Helen Masters. You know what Nick? I'm going to do something about it."
"Revenge isn't the answer, although sometimes it seems like the right thing to do."
He could just see her shake her head in the low light. He could vamp and then he would see her clearly, but he didn't need to make his last act frightening a sad human.
"Not revenge. I want . . . I'm not sure what I want. But Ibetha should have had a place to go, people who would help her, keep her safe. Instead she had to hide by herself, sneak around afraid all the time. That's not right Nick."
Nikola sighed. He knew exactly what she wanted and what it was called. "You want to create a Sanctuary; a place where intelligent Abnormals would be safe and dangerous ones could be kept apart from human beings."
"Yes, that's it exactly. I wish I was rich, I would buy a great big house . . . no a fortress and turn it into that- a Sanctuary."
Nikola began to laugh softly. He wasn't rich either, but there were a couple of bank accounts he'd abandoned years ago. There was probably a tidy sum in them by now.
"Helen? Are you human?"
"Yes, of course. Why, are you . . ."
Nikola vamped and stood up just to see what she would do. Helen stood too and gaped at him. "That's amazing! Fantastic! What are you?"
He could see her eyes were blue, but darker than his Helen's had been. "I'm a vampire; the only vampire in the world. I could use a place to go to be safe. And I have a little money, perhaps enough for a down payment on something. But think about what we're saying Helen. If you want this, really want this, there won't be any show business, and it won't be easy. You'll have to fight the whole world."
"But you would help me?"
How did he get himself into these things? He looked out over the water, thinking about the depths. But there was a new friend in front of him, and what the hell, her name was Helen, how could he resist?