Ink and Calligraphy
Nikola was asleep—his body nestled against a white marbled balcony wall. Bent baby branches of a cedar tree, and that of its young trunk had become his pillow for his night's slumber. A wine bottle, empty, was being cradled close in his left hand. The Mediterranean winds blew across the Italian bay stirring the vampire to consciousness along with the warm sunshine of the morning.
"Ugh," whined Nikola, as he shrugged of a sore neck, "that's the last time I reminisce my ancient years on a Roman hillside." Nikola had made his way to Magnus' Italian villa in Capri. She only comes here once every seven years anyways and besides, she'll never even know I was here. Nikola propped himself up and leaned his back against the marble wall, taking in the fresh sea air, and the blinding sunlight above.
He sat alone, and on the outer side of the balcony. Looking down he could see the steep white rocks leading to a small shoreline, encompassed with sparsely dotted white villas and stretching the length of the seaside. It didn't look this steep in the dark? Nikola had forgotten his reasoning for wanting to crawl over the balcony.
If only things had been different. He lets his head tilt down with a solemn sense of despair. "Maybe for my next invention I should build a time machine." He groans as the throbbing in his head awakes. He could see his pants had absorbed fine white pieces of rock from the hillside like lint. Nikola flicked away the tiny white rocks from off his pants then removed a handkerchief from his vest pocket and thoroughly wiped his fingers.
He eyed the empty bottle of wine with much sentiment. It was the same wine that they used to drink on their all night repartees and discussions of what secrets the source blood may hold. What if I grow extra limbs Helen? What if I am transformed into some leviathan creature with two heads?
Before they knew the truths of the effects of the source blood, they had every single scenario scribbled down on paper and hidden between the pages of their favorite books as reference guides. Gregory Magnus did have an extensive library and many a nights it became their haven for all things pertaining to their 'source blood hypothesis banters'.
He can still see the tall built-in shelves of the Magnus house. How Gregory would always bring them a cup of Earl Grey tea as they kept their discussing on into the early mornings. He remembers Helen's laugh and how it breathed new life into him each and every time he heard it. The memories felt so close he could almost touch them.
He looked down to see a Shakespeare sonnet book at his side. Ah yes, I remember, I dropped it over the balcony. He had found this book inside Magnus' villa library. One advantage of being able to manipulate metal and read electrical currents, he could disarm her security system before the alarm was to go off. Nikola had found her wine cellar and her shelved books from their Victorian days. It was a wonder that she had any books outside of her Old City Sanctuary. My god, he thought, she has enough books to open a library in every country on every continent.
He picked up the book and thumbed through the pages.A small piece of paper flung out as he flipped through, and landed beside him in the grass. It had been folded twice over. The sepia tint instantly caught his eye. "Well, what do we have here?" Nikola frowned as he picked it up gently with his thumb and forefinger. "My-my, where did you come from?" He placed the sonnet book in his lap and slowly opened the folded piece of the past. "Well god save the queen I don't believe it." Nikola smiled to find one of his old poems locked safely inside the vintage first addition.
Laughter—boisterous and contented— rang through the halls of the Magnus residence. Gregory smiled as he neared the open doorway leading into the library, holding a tray of tea. As he approached he could see the five Oxford students gathered around a table lit by oil lamps and candles. Their table covered in piles of books and papers.
"Helen," Gregory knocked once to let them know of his presence, "I have tea."
The laughter slowly subsided into barely contained muffles as each member of the future Five looked up. "Doctor Magnus," James nodded congenially "please do enter. We are hypothesizing the possible outcomes of the effects from exposure to the source blood."
Gregory entered directing a warm smile to Helen then glanced over at James. "Mr. Watson, I have given my professional opinion on the subject. I assure you that the result of exposure would be hardly, amusing." Gregory's cautious tone was clearly evident.
"Please forgive us, "James's voice was kind and respectful, "Nikola has a most unique objective view on the matter."
"Indeed I do." Nikola sat crossed legged on a black old leather chair, holding a Shakespeare sonnet book in his hand. His chair was off to the right and close to a large window. A midnight mist had rolled in and lingered over the cobblestoned street outside. Lit oil lanterns, hanging from iron poles gave the impression fireflies were dancing free inside the late night fog.
Nikola sat quiet eyeing his friends and Gregory. Nikola believes himself to be a modern man—a dignified and passionate man of intellect. He is a scholar, scientist and friend. He walks the stone laid streets of London head held high with great confidence. He could never have predicted the days ahead. The years ahead—all that will become the pages to his life.
His only trepidations during this time at Oxford are hypotheses, manipulated variables, experiments, procedures, and results. But it was his unreciprocated affections for Helen Magnus which kept a hidden pain in his heart.
Nikola was holding a Shakespeare sonnet book in his lap, his hands holding a piece of parchment paper —arranged clandestine words that would never reach his lipsinspeech, to her. His tailored white button long sleeve shirt perfectly ironed with a light blue vested blazer made him feel like high society. He grinned widely at Helen as he looked up from his paper.
A small mahogany table had been pulled next to him, with a small ink bottle and quill on the table top. A small drawer was open with a cloth rag, hanging over the side and dirty with ink stains. "Pure vampire blood has too many unknown variables. I merely suggested a likely result."
John, sitting next to Helen, stood up from his chair to help Gregory pour the tea, his brown boots scuffing the wooden floorboards as he walked. "You see, Doctor Magnus, Nikola believes there could be animalistic effects."
"Do not smirk John Druitt. A Vampire is much like a bat. Therefore characteristics may reveal themselves in such a manner." Nikola reached up and pulled the quill from the ink bottle, and continued his writings on a piece of paper placed on top of the Shakespeare book he was holding.
"It is a sensible theory, Mr. Druitt. Abnormal traits are found in both man and animal. Like diseases, each affects a host in a variety of ways. In my days of being a doctor I have witnessed many events as these. Like sickness, it harbors longer and shorter days of illness in differing degrees. As will the abnormalities in all creatures." Gregory set a cup of tea in front of Helen. "Thank you father." He gave a head bow with a wink.
Gregory was so proud of his daughter. She was ambitious and strong willed. The nature of the work they were venturing into was both dangerous and awe inspiring, but he'd rather her be a part of the journey rather than be alone in his work.
Gregory turned and carried a cup with him over to Nikola. "Nikola, what was it you proposed? What kind of animal traits do you believe the source blood would warrant?" Nikola took the tea cup and placed on the side table. "An idea hardly worth mentioning again."
"Come now, old boy," John hissed a snicker as he sat back down next to Helen, placing a hand to the back of her chair, "this is an open discussion. All ideas are honestly accepted, and challenged."
Nikola returns a smile of annoyance back to John. "Well if I must repeat myself," he sighs and looks over to the table at Helen, "The Sphinx. It was a legendary being both man and beast. It could have been another creature like a vampire that lived long ago. So therefore the source blood may bring forth similar traits." Nikola smile nonchalantly, reached to the small side table and took a sip of his tea.
James laughed. "We were discussing legends, being possible truths Doctor Magnus, and how each could be a factor of abnormalities within a human."
"That is a plausible and intriguing perspective." Gregory said. Nikola placed the small tea cup back on the side table. "Precisely. My proposal of this idea was merited on the grounds of relevance—the thirst of the vampiric traits is instinctive, wild and uncontrolled. And so will be the affects from exposure in my most humble opinion."
Helen glanced down at an open book in front of her, placing a finger on the page. "See here father. The theory of evolution could be another footnote to our ideas. Adaptation is not understood fully. Perhaps the final abnormalities we see in a vampire were improved upon and changed throughout the years as well. So if the source blood changes one into a vampire, it may not be instant." Gregory walked back over to the table to stand next to Helen.
Helen continues. "We know that man and beast are different." She looked up at Gregory. "Yes they are." Gregory nodded to her example. "But, all animals, most of them, have eyes, ears, a nose and mouth. We are similar in that aspect. So maybe the vampire blood itself also ascertains great improvement as well to our senses. This could also be another probable effect from exposure could it not?" Gregory rubbed the stubble on his chin.
"Alright. So you assume that not only animalistic traits will surface but indeed those of heightened sensory as well. That is a most impressive theory. And the affects could be direct or indirectly visible."
James tapped the table with his ink quill. "Yes, we do believe so. We have collected the greatest of physical traits from an array of wildlife. We then join them together in groups relative to their Genus and Species, trying to formulate possible variables of change, while keeping the human anatomy a factor."
"A mathematical ratio is what we are creating, percentages that could give us an idea, both broad and narrow, of what the exposure could merit." James dabbed his quill back into his ink bottle, and scribed another set of equations on his paper.
Nigel had fallen asleep, his head down on the other end of the table, having almost single handedly downed a whole bottle of wine. James saw that Gregory was staring at him. "Ah yes, our Nigel. I remember his last words just before the wine took over… he feared the source blood was going to transform a human into, what was it John—a bloody pixy?"
John bellowed out in laughter as did James. "I told the old sport that I doubt the contact would change the very nature of one's human form. But then my deductive reasoning may not be totally correct. This is a new frontier is it not Doctor Magnus?" James dipped his quill back into the small glass ink bottle.
"Indeed it is James." Helen leaned into John and placed an arm around his waist. It was a new frontier for love as well.
"Ashley!" Magnus called her daughter's name from the white stucco hallway of the Capri villa. It was summer and she was happy to have planned a weekend getaway for Ashley's 16th birthday. As she walked down the wide hallway her sandals joyfully slapped against the marble flooring—imported from the very quarry that Michelangelo chiseled his masterpieces from. She could hear and smell the sea as she neared the living room.
Magnus walked into the spacious living area to find Ashley fast asleep on the sofa, and her French doors open to the balcony. The center of the room had a white sofa and side chairs made from cedar, and a black old leather chair. The open kitchen was to her right, with a tea kettle ready for brewing.
Magnus quietly walked over to Ashley and took a minute to watch her daughter sleep. She knew that one day she'd teach her the ways of a warrior, a fighter to help protect the Abnormals of the world. She never knew she would grow up so fast within that time.
She noticed Ashley had a book under her arm, a Shakespeare sonnet book. It was Nikola's favorite.
She was happy to see Ashley's interest in the great master of prose and rhyme.
Magnus bent down and gently pulled the book from her hand. "Ash," she whispered placing a hand on her shoulder, "Ashley, wake up." Ashley stirred but didn't open her eyes. "It's morning darling."
Ashley sighed and took in a deep breath raising her arms in a stretch. "Mom," Ashley words came groggily and half awake. Magnus smiled. "Yes dear, it's eight o'clock; I'll put the tea on and fix us some breakfast. I have a big day planned for us." She leaned over to kiss Ashley on the forehead as she pulled her into a hug, "Happy birthday."
"Okay, I'm up, I'm up," Ashley opened her eyes and took another deep breath in of the Mediterranean Sea. Magnus smiled and turned to walk into the kitchen. She took the kettle to the sink, filled it, and placed it back on the burner. She clicked the temperature button to high and strolled out to the open marble balcony. The air and sky were so clean and clear. The temperature was perfect, warm with a cool breeze.
She began to think about how she should take more time to break away from the grind of work. Her work she knew could be overwhelming at times. Securing large Abnormals, having to transport them, sedate them, reconstruct their habitants that they destroy or damage. And Ashley, she was growing up so fast. It seemed like only yesterday she and Henry were playing hide and go seek with the Big Guy, and being so small they could hide under the tables in the hallways of the Sanctuary. Which reminded her, Biggie did well to pretend he never saw them.
Where have the years gone?
Magnus slumped down into the wicker chair on the balcony, and pulled a small blanket around her that was draped across the chair. She leaned back and closed her eyes, the warmth of the sun easing the trials of life. Thoughts flashed through her mind. 151 years old. The Five. The Source Blood. Abnormals. And I have a Sasquatch as a butler… Who could have imagined?
She freed her hands from under her blanket and held up the Shakespeare sonnet book and flipped open the cover. She had forgotten the inscribed dedication in ink. To my dearest Helen, may your life be a play of happiness always. Love, your father. "Father." She ran her fingers over the inscription. "I do miss you."
As she flipped the pages she noticed a split in the middle. She opened the book and found a piece of paper, folded twice over in the center. She pulled it out to see that it was written in ink, and in Nikola's handwriting. She saw that it was a three stanza poem, about her. "Oh Nikola," she put her hand to her mouth in surprise. She always believed he had a soft side but rarely if ever saw it through his 'obnoxious ass' persona that was most present.
Magnus reached in her pocket and pulled out a pen. She felt it only fitting to add a few lines.
Black smears, smudges and drops of ink dotted Nikola's parchment paper— each letter a calculated blend of wrist and mind to paper. The heavy rolling arcs, thin and beautiful were letters of calligraphy, a window into his soul.
As he sat on the Roman hillside of the Capri villa he noticed something different. "I wrote three stanzas not five?" As he looked closer he found that two had been added in Helen's handwriting. Good lord, he thought, she read it. He had no idea of when she found it, or when she added her lines but nevertheless, it was a looking glass into both their souls. He leaned back once again against the marble balcony wall, and engulfed with the winds of the Mediterranean Sea, he read the words of their poem.
London—Oxford may contest deplore,
With vial remorse upon our chore,
To test and trial the very source,
And prick the skin, to run its course.
London—Dearest Helen, please may I?
Be thy man to stand beside,
And shelter over in days to come,
Until our time is spent and done.
London—The land of mysteries,
With Stonehenge being one of these,
like secrets lost on Salisbury Plain,
she is a love I can't contain.
London—the new golden age,
Whilst youth shall never leave thy face,
And time the spectrum hence defined,
By math and us all numbered Five.
London—the sweet nectar of divinity,
the birth place of longevity,
but sour its taste on streets with rue,
when it changed a man named Montague.