A/N: This is one of the longer chapters in this story. There is one longer. I am also quite fond of this one. There is a lot that goes on here, and I hope it comes over well. And this should push this story over "The MIsshappen Tale of Two Inept Pirates" for word count

My thanks goes out to Bill, who is doing editting on this story, and who wrote some naughty bits for Chapter 18. I was amused.

Thanks to Katie Marsh, who has survived 8 Chapters do far. That is farther than anyone else has made it so far!

Chapter 21: Alestair's Conflict

Alestair

England 1870 Day 3

I wake from a troubled sleep. A cold mustiness fills my aching still limbs. Although dreaming is no good and I am not particularly comfortable, I still don't want to move or get up. My heavy eyelids flutter with the reluctant waking. A blurred pale, clawed hand moves before my face. I pull away from that horror out of my haunted fever dreams. The horrible familiar face of that villain comes into clearer focus. I want to scream and cringe back further. My back hits the earthen wall of the cave where I am. I am not in my own bed! My fingers dig into the ground, and I can tell that my hands are clawed, but I fear to take my eyes from my adversary. My strange long sharp teeth brush my lower lip. Is this another one of my nightmares? This cannot be reality! I squeeze my eyes shut and wish myself to wake up. This nightmare does not go away. It has really happened! I will not wake from this horror. I collapse my face into my hands.

I feel his hands on my shoulders. I pull away from him and kick at him. Is there no way to destroy this invincible monster? He comes at me again, but he stops at my wide eyes and steady retreat. He cocks his head to one side and blinks his eyes. He shakes his head and finally speaks. "Seeing how it troubles you, my friend, I would tell you to forget last night, but I cannot. I do admit that I do not understand your feelings in this matter, and I will not pretend to do so."

I look at him a moment. At first his words make no sense to me, then I remember last night. My mouth drops open and I mutter unheard words. I didn't! I couldn't have! My hands travel to those strange sharp teeth. They are real! I did commit myself last night. This is no horror dream or stupid illusion. How can this be? Vampires are some kind of horror tale that my brother delighted in telling. They are not real! How can I be like this? I have hurt another human being! I have drunk of his life to keep my unholy life force to this corrupted body! I have admitted to the lie. I can feel the hideous teeth and I can see the cruel claws on my hands. I have become part of the terrible myth! I still can taste the boy's blood on my tongue. I am revolted by the fact that the salty flavor is not sickening to me. The memory of stealing his warmth does not seem repulsive to me. How can I be this way!

I clench my hand to myself and close my eyes. I am a vampire. I must destroy all life around me to survive. I am not supposed to care about what I destroy, and I am supposed to revel in the ruin. I don't want to live at this price. I must learn to adjust to this way of living, if that is what you can call it. I must learn the ways to create devastation. I must learn not to care. I have to save Lucy. And how am I to save Lucy like this? Why has this been chosen for me?

I open my eyes and look up at the hideous teacher who put me in this situation in the first place. He watches me silently and curiously. If only I could destroy him, maybe things would return to normal. Maybe I could go back home and Lucy would be there with her bloody kittens. All I would have to be concerned with would be learning to get over that quelling in my gut at the sight of the furry atrocities. I cannot go back. I know it. Still, I do not understand why I am here like this, and even less why that damn monster is back here with me! I bet when I drained the boy of his blood, he swelled with pride at what he has caused me to do. He has won this time.

Clasping my shirt and looking to the ground, I say more to myself than present company, "I must give up my morals."

He looms over me like a mist of darkness. I want to pull away and hide. Still I hold my ground and my fear in check. He kneels beside me and placed his left hand under my chin and lifts my face to his. He takes my hands in his right. Looking in to my eyes with those bright black eyes, he smiles softly. I wonder if it is possible for one vampire to kill another. I wonder if I am capable of such an act now that I am one of the damned. "You need not give up all of your morals, my friend. I am certain some of your beliefs of good and evil are alright. You will just have to get it out of your head that the taking of blood is evil. I find some of your morals quite fascinating."

It is my turn to blink at him. That was definitely a different statement than what I had expected him to say. "I'll be destroying many lives for my one. If I have to survive, I must be immoral," I reply at what I would expect his approval. I will go into his realm. I will be the monster that he has created me to be.

He stands up and throws out his hands. "You have not done that much harm to that boy. He will get over it soon enough. You have only bitten him once, and I let him go instead of killing him," he replies offhandedly. My eyes widen at his cold words. He shrugs. "Just don't go after him for another seven years, my friend. There are enough vampires as it is, I will thank you to know."

"How could I do this? Why couldn't I just stay dead and endure the flames of Hell? Now I must be an emotionless murderer!" I complain. The thought of killing that boy last night burns me. I should have been able to control myself. I will never attack another person again! How can I?

"Alestair, you are a wimp!" he cried out unexpectedly, "You were a wimp when I first met you, and you still are! Vampirism has not changed you from being weak and spineless!"

I glare at him. I feel the blood in my body rise to the occasion. I pull away from him violently. I let all my distraught anger pour into my body. If I was such a wimp when he met me, why did he chose me as his underling? There were plenty of others on the Demeter or in Florence or anywhere else we were! I didn't choose him! My claws enclose around his scrawny neck. I tighten my grip on his throat as a shocked expression appears across his face, I wonder if a vampire can survive and repair a broken severed neck. I bet my claws are sharp enough for the job. I feel his cold blood roll down my hands. I can do this! I know I can. He deserves it!

I do not notice his resistance until his hand touches my exposed neck. His hands do not embrace my neck like mine do his. They move about in search of a place, and then he applies the slightest of pressures on the place where he took my blood from me. Suddenly I cannot take in breath to myself. I must release him as my strength wanes from the lack of air that I cannot take in. Why is it if I am dead that I must breathe?

The vile creature moves away from me. He rubs his throat where my claws have cut him. With a few more gasps for air, the contortions to my windpipe cease. Tears fill my eyes and roll down my cheeks from the effort. I wonder if my brother was right and vampire tears are blood. I don't want to know. I glare at the wretch in front of me and the knowledge that I am the same as him eats at me. "I'll destroy you one of these days, you evil monster," I growl.

A sharp glare enters his eyes that I have not yet seen before. Good! Maybe he will end this farce and show his true colors. I give him an equally angry look, but he backs down. His shoulders droop and he turns his face down. He absently rubs his throat where I tried unsuccessfully to throttle him. Pulling his hand away, he clenches his fists and looks up at me. "Now, Alestair, my friend, look here. You and I are to work together. I will teach you the ways of vampirism. You are to listen to me, and I am to learn something from you in return as well," he says in a rather hoarse voice. My attack did do something to him.

"I am not a . . . I'm to learn from you as to how to be a vampire, but I have no knowledge to give you," I answer.

"Ah, that is because you do not realize it yet. You will teach me, my friend. You do not know me well enough to know what I need to know. You are a fine young man with a fine soul. You will know your answer soon enough."

I narrow my eyes at him, but he seems unaffected by my anger. "Stop talking in riddles!" I command, "I can't teach you anything about evil. You have many centuries on me and you know all of the ancient evils. I must learn those for myself so that I may survive. I must learn to perform those evils on men and feel nothing as a result. I must learn to be the most evil monster to walk this world."

"Alestair, quit it!" he says as he stands up to his full unimpressive height and crosses his arms. "Do you feel evil?" he demands, "Is your desire for destruction that strong? Is that the way of the young German man I met back in 1825?"

"No," I answer quietly, "I am different. You have made me different. I don't want to follow your trail of blood, but I must. I am like you now."

"Alestair, my dear friend," he announces as he unsuccessfully tries to throw his arm around me. He stands a moment empty handed with a mild expression of confusion on his face, then he shrugs. "Vampirism is like a disease," he reasons, "Your soul is the same. Your values are the same. Your physical need is different. Thus, there is a change in your nature. You are a tad bit more violent." He rubs his throat thoughtfully for a moment and shrugs. "You are going to be a hunter. It is going to make your life a lot more interesting. It will build your character. It will beat all the paper work stuff," he adds a bit too happily for my liking.

"I was happy with my life," I point out.

"I know, my friend," he answers cheerfully, "but you will be happy with this life once you get used to it. The first thing you must realize is that no matter what I have done to you, you will always be Jonathan Harker, and you should act accordingly. So do not try to be like me. That is not the reason that I made you a vampire. You cried when you took your victim last night. That was the good 'ole Jonathan crying. When I took my first victim back in 1349, or was it still 1348, oh well, whenever, I shed no tears. I would not otherwise as a mortal. Misko was not a very nice fellow. I think he was a bit nastier than Orlock. Of course, Orlock got a bit screwed up along the way and lost track of his goals. It is rather hard to spread death and destruction and general havoc about when your mind is otherwise occupied. Do not look at me that way, my friend. I had these hobbies when I was mortal. I had a thing for blood a few years before I became a vampire. Anyway, my point is that you are not made to feel any different because your teeth are a bit long and sharp and you have a thing for blood. You are still the same Jonathan Harker at heart. You have a choice of being good or evil . . . being as you were as mortal except a bit stronger physically and capable of doing more, or you can decay into the hideous thing that I am. You are not forced to do either except by your own conscience, which is ever present whether you admit it or not. You have proof that it is still there. We would not be arguing otherwise, my friend."

"If I have such freedom, why must I take the blood? Why, when I need blood, I will bite the victim whether I want to or not?" I demand.

"Nature, my dear friend. When you were human, you ate to survive. Now your diet has changed a bit with that physical need I just told you about. When you become a more experienced vampire, you will have better control over your need. It is possible to starve yourself. I have never seen it done, but I know that the power exists. Of course, there are a lot easier ways to die. Come, my friend, do you want to kill more than necessary?" he asks in an offhand way like asking about the weather.

No," I answer quietly. With some of the energy of my fury left, I add, "I only wish to kill you."

"Do you wish to bring the Black Death to each place you visit? It is in your power," he asks flatly.

"No!" I return forcefully.

"Then what is your problem?" He asks as he throws up his hands as if this is the end of the argument.

"I force vampirism to survive," I reply, as I glare at him again. How can he be so dense!

He stomps his foot. "I will smack you silly if you make a vampire out of any of your victims except one! There is a limit on the number of vampires, and one bite will not make that boy a vampire!" He flaunts in my face. What do I really know about vampirism?

His words bother me, but I choose to ignore the implications of his first statement. I have more pressing concerns at the moment. I will worry about the future after I have the bit settled about what I did last night. "And after the boy dies? Will he become a vampire then?" I ask nervously afraid of what his answer might be.

"No," he answers as if I am some idiot, "Think, my boy! If this was true, then we would have a food shortage!"

"And what have I done to his soul?" I inquire, remembering that my miserable soul is now damned.

He gives a half smile and shrugs. "If he is deserving, he will go to Heaven. God would not allow us to exist if it were that easy to damn a soul."

"But I am damned!" I complain.

"It is difficult to make a vampire," he tries to explain to me. I listen. "In your case, my friend, I was determined to make you a vampire. I have always wanted an underling, and I liked you."

I remember the reason we are supposedly back and the condition that Lucy is in. I swallow hard at the memory of what he told me two nights ago. I draw in a heavy breath and swallow down my own self loathing for causing all of this. "Then the boy is insane from my bite."

"You are not thinking, my friend," he reprimands. His bright black eyes watch me as if disappointed in me. "You were not insane after my first bite to you. You were despairing but not crazy. After all, I had you tied and gagged, and you knew what was coming."

"But I didn't want vampirism! The only way to be a vampire is to force an unwilling victim into vampirism."

He crosses his arms again and stomps his foot. "And how would Lucy feel if she heard you speak so?"

"She wouldn't care," I mumble. I don't remember all that happened that night, but I rather got the idea that my adversary was invited to her room. Even if she did prefer him over me, I would never harm her. I would have killed him, even if I died in the process. She did not deserve this life I gave her. My bitterness pour into my words as if it was all his fault. It might as well be. "She was attracted to you, remember? And there aren't any more evil than you!"

He holds up one clawed finger and smiles at me. "She also killed me, my friend. She tricked me into the dawn," he answers as if it makes it all alright. I narrow my eyes at him as he continues with that goofy smile. "I think she was a bit peeved that you had acquired fangs."

Deep in my feeling of self pity and loathing I blurt back at him, "Funny way of showing it she did have."

He scratches the back of his neck and his cheeks flush. "Well, you were rather growling and spitting at her at the time. I mean quite literally. I sometimes wonder what she would have done if she were not bitten again. I mean, she was really quite fond of you, my friend."

Remembering some of the things that she liked about me, I come to the realization of existing this way, I have lost what she loved the most about me. She chose me over some of the rich and well known men who pursued her hand, because she liked the quiet me, and she liked that I was so shy. I knew her station in life was well above mine. How could I keep her affection for me like this? I have to be an aggressor, a hunter, a murderer. "She could never love me after I have destroyed that poor boy's life," I utter. I drop my face to my hands and cry out, "Oh God! How could I have done this horrible deed?"

I feel the other's arms thrown around me. I glare up at him. Can't he just leave me in my self misery! He smiles at me, and I shove him off of me. I don't want his evil near me! I push him back. "Get away from me!"

"Alestair, listen. The boy is fine. Come. Take my hands. I will take you to him."

I look at those pale clawed hands that he offers me. I back away a moment. On a second thought, I realize I have nothing left to lose. I don't want to join the dark forces of the universe, but I have to go where my nature leads me. My curiosity at his words intrigue me. How can he take me to my previous victim? I take those demonic hands into my own. They were so ice cold before tonight, but now they feel warm and leathery. He bows his head and closes his eyes as if in concentration. His claws clasp about my wrists, and I can feel his spirit close to my own like when he has taken over this body, but I know he does not read my thoughts nor does he invade my soul. It is more informal than that. His claws move and cut into my wrists. It is a pin prick, nothing more. Drops of my blood trickle out onto his claws. The clasp tightens as does his concentration. Although my thoughts are on him at the moment, I do notice that the scenery around us changes.

I stagger and feel light headed. I let go of his hands and stumble to a crouching position. My opposite has fallen to his hands and knees. His small body trembles and shimmers. I blink my eyes. This has taken some strength from him. I can sense it. A wicked smile crosses my lips. I must remember this weakness. I can use it against him when the time comes. What difference does it make if I waddle in deception? Is not deception the key to vampirism?

Gaining my senses much sooner than my mentor, I look around at my new surroundings. We are near a small house off from a bigger house. I look across the vast fields spread out before the structure. Some distance ahead I notice the place where I took my victim the night before. A shiver travels my spine. I turn around to the house. We are at the servants' quarters. I can tell by the size and the make. A cold wind ruffles my clothes and I swallow hard. How did he know where the victim sleeps?

"I am getting too old for this," the vampire says with a thin smile. What is he talking about? Vampires grow stronger with age. He slowly pulls himself up.

"What happened?" I ask as I look at the house before us.

"I have teleported us to the boy's home," he announces proudly. He will gain no applause from me. "It is kind of hard to teleport with another person, but you will learn the technique soon enough, my friend. Come, look," he adds as he motions me to the window at the back of the house. I still don't understand how he knows where we are going.

I stand a moment determined that I will not go ahead with this, but I must know. I look through the glass window. I feel like a peeping Tom. Inside a modest room, I see a bed with the boy I attacked last night. He is covered in heavy covers and seems to be sleeping peacefully. I grasp my coat tightly. At least, he will have one good night's sleep after what I did to him. His face his pale and his eyelids are dark as if he has suffered some draining illness. I recognize the bottle of elixir on the night stand. I can sympathize. Many a time I was forced to down the horrid stuff. I guess I won't have to deal with such horrors again since I am now one of the undead.

Frank touches my shoulder. "See. He is well. Let us leave," he urges.

I stand my ground with my arms crossed. "No. He may seem normal for me to look at him, but how do I know that he has not been damned to this existence?"

He sighs and shakes his head. He mutters several unheard words, then he looks up at me. "Distrustful, are we not?"

"Especially of you and your words," I return.

"What do you want?" he demands. "If you fool around with previous victims, you will get vampire hunting back in fashion!" He pulls at my arm. "Come, let us leave . . . NOW!"

I pull away from him. "Prove to me that he is not damned!"

"How?" he insists as he throws up his hands. The question of if he is so nervous about this, why he does not yank me into teleportation away from this place comes briefly to my mind.

"I don't know. Show me that he can do something that we can't," I reply.

"And how are we going to do that without waking him or hurting ourselves in the process?" he retorts.

"You are the one with all of the answers!" I point out.

He looks skyward. "Thanks a lot, Minos!" he grumbles. He turns his eyes to me, "but I did have to choose him, didn't I?" A smile crosses his lips and he shakes his head. "Pay no heed to my complaints. You know how full of it I am. I would never wish you away."

Since I do not truly understand his comment, I ignore it for the time being. I have other pressing concerns on my mind. "Oh shut up, and answer my question!"

He draws in a deep breath and squares his shoulders. He silently mutters something again. He suddenly moves towards the brick wall and motions for me to follow. My brow furrows. "Come, my friend. Follow me," he gently orders, as he blends through the solid wall.

I stand back and stutter. I can't do that! I am solid, am I not? He return back through the solid wall and grabs my wrist and tugs at me. I follow him, but I have to close my eyes. The expectation of slamming into the stone wall never is fulfilled. I can pass through the seemingly solid structure with ease.

"We are spectres. We do not really exist on this plane, my friend," he says to answer my confusion. Needless to say, my confusion does not subside. "It is a vampiric thing," he adds as if that solves anything, "Does that help?"

"I kind of figured that out myself," I retort.

"Then why ask the question if you already know the answer," he counters.

"That doesn't answer my question," I point out.

"I already answered your question. You are a vampire, and vampires can walk through walls at will. It has to do with the fact that we are partially of the spirit world, and we don't really belong to this world. Of course, I had to add a bit of my strength to you, because you don't believe you can do such things, my friend," he explains.

It is still a bit baffling to me, but I will have to accept his words. I was never much for the study of the immaterial world and such. "Alright!" I yield.

"What do you want me to say?" he complains as he spreads his hands.

"I don't know," I relent, "I just wish you would explain these things before you go yanking me through a solid wall. Remember, I am not really used to being a vampire like you are."

He lowers his head and smiles ever so slightly. "Alright," he answers.

He goes to a mirror in the room and motions for me to follow. He stands before the reflective surface and pretends he has a reflection. It does not acknowledge either one of us. Well, at least, Elias was right about something. All the horror stories that he delighted in telling a terrified five year old have become somewhat useful. I guess this again has to do with what Frank has said about us being part of the spirit world.

"What are you doing?" I ask as he brushes down his clothes and smooths down his eyebrows in front of the mirror as if he is really a human. "You have no reflection," I complain, unless he can see something that I cannot.

"There is no accounting for taste! The mirror does not know what it is missing!" he pouts.

"And it would be glad of it," I respond. He is not easy on the eyes. I don't see what use any of this has to do with the mission we are on, and for someone so apprehensive about entering here, why does he play around?

He stands back and holds out his hand to the mirror as an invitation. "All the same, what the mirror denies, it also confirms. Look, my friend. Although you cannot see me or yourself in its reflection, you can see your young victim asleep in his bed.

I look into the mirror's frame. He is right, the youth continues to sleep in his bed. "Yes," I answer as I look to the place where my reflection should be.

He takes my hand and pulls me away from my thoughts. He leads me to the sleeping youth. He swallows hard and mumbles some more incoherent words. He looks up at me, and although his smile is meant to bright and cheerful, I can see worry in his black eyes. "Touch him," he blurts out. "Do it quickly and gently."

"Why?"

"You will wake him, and we do not want that, my friend," he answers.

That was not the question I was asking. I wanted to know why I was supposed to touch my victim yet again, especially since we do not want to wake him. I guess there will be an answer to my question soon enough. I move to the young man in the bed. His right hand hangs off the side of the bed out from under the blankets. I look to Frank again and build my courage. I kneel beside the bed and touch that hand. The boy recoils from me and moans quietly, but he does not wake.

Frank had jumped back from the movement, but he approaches again. He takes me by the shoulders and asks, "Is his hand warm?"

"Yes," I reply.

"And he fears your deathlike cold hand. So, my friend, he is not dead or undead, right?" he inquires brightly.

I sigh in resignation. "I will give you that one," I yield.

He nods to the youth. "He wears the cross about his neck again, my friend," he points out.

I look at my previous victim. Frank is right. The boy does wear the pendant again. My fingers reach out to the symbol of salvation that lays quietly on his rising and falling breast. I don't notice Frank again until he forcefully grabs my wrist. He is too late and too weak to defeat my determination. I squeal loudly as the cross burns into my flesh of my fingers. Then the scene changes quickly. I fall in the tall grass of the place where we caught my victim last night. I feel the squirming body of my companion underneath me and I roll off of him. I pull myself up. This method of travel is just too strange for me. My head feels light again, and I feel nauseated.

"You need to lose weight, my friend," he grumbles. That is a first for me. I have always been scrawny at best. Everyone I knew wanted to fatten me up including my brother. I glare at him. He only smiles in a laughing sort of way. "You are going to get me killed one of these days!" he complains.

"Good!" I retort, "I would prefer it that way."

He sticks his tongue out at me in a cockeyed sort of way. I raise my eyebrows at his immature reaction. This is the monster that brought the plague to my hometown and made me a vampire! He holds up his arms for me to help him up. I turn my back on him. I fell for that trick once. I will not do it again. "And after I have just saved your neck! Hmpf! That's gratitude for you!"

"I wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for you! Come on," I say as I turn back to him. He sits up in the grass with his legs spread out and looking up at me like a lost puppy. I shake my head. "Let's get on with it before I have to take another victim."

"Quit worrying about it, my friend. You now know that you do not really hurt your victims in a permanent way," he reasons.

"That's not the point!" I object.

"Then what is the point?"

"It is not right."

"And why not?"

Could he not see the wrongness of this way of life? I blink at him and try to find a reason for him. "I feel like a thief! I am taking something that I have no right to. I should be dead by all rights."

He looks at me and smiles. Something sharp is on the edge of his tongue to say, but he doesn't utter it. He lowers his head and his eyes move in thought for a few moments, then he looks back up at me. "It is something that they quickly replace and no one is the wiser of our deed. After a couple of weeks the loss of blood is totally forgotten."

"I wish you would quit rationalizing this existence," I grumble.

"What do you want me to say? I like being a vampire. I will admit there are certain things I do not like about being a creature of the night, but I have managed quite well around that. Now that you are my traveling companion, things are a lot better. It does get better with time, my friend, but first things first. We need to find you a tailor shop. You have a definite musty smell about you, and your clothes look older than you are."

I grimace. "Thank you ever so much!" I sneer.

I look down at my ragged clothes to see that the years of my death have shown in them. My own odor reaches my nostrils. He is right. I do smell strongly of the grave, but I have yet to find any vermin in my clothes. My unpleasant odor is not the only one that I smell. His silken ragged black clothes also show the passage of time, although I don't think that they continued to exist while we were dead. I thought all things concerning him had turned to dust. I shake my head to quit trying to figure out the paradox. It just is. If clothing styles change as often as they did in my time, then I know that my clothes are outdated, and his clothes are far outdated. They weren't quite in date during my time. I do hope that he will pick something a bit more pleasing to the eyes this time.

With all these thoughts in my head, I run my hand through my hair to discover it is greasy and stiff from the lack of care. I now truly feel like the walking dead. I wonder if soap and water is deadly to our state of being.

We walk through fields of newly tilled grounds. It must be early spring. The air is tinged with the hints of snow in the cold damp air. Then we move into the weeds that were not cut nor did they completely die through the harshness of winter. There is green peeking through the brown under foot. The lights of a nearby town reflect in the heavy clouds above us. We are near a town and we soon will enter it. I don't know what Frank really hopes to accomplish in a town. Yes, we need new clothes, but I am certain that the humans there are not going to be very receptive to the likes of us. Yet, I must remember with whom I am traveling. He seems well gifted in convincing someone white is black and black is white.

We find the town completely deserted. It is not much of a town, and even the local tavern seems to be closed up for the evening. The night is not all that old, although I have spent most of the time arguing with the other. All places seem to be dark and empty, yet there are street lights are shining brighter than my eyes are comfortable with. We seek a tailor shop, and as luck would have it, this seems to be the only place with a dim light burning within. Frank elbows me with that smug smile on his lips as if he has done something really special. He cracks his fingers. He tugs at the hemming of his shabby coat and smooths down his eyebrows. He looks up at me for approval, but I make no response. He, being the subtle sort that he is, bangs on the door.

The sound of shuffling and some cursing floats out from the interior. I was correct that this is England by the language used. The tailor cracks the door open. He is a small lanky man of his middle years. He nervously holds a pistol up at the crack in what he hopes is a threatening poise. He fails completely, because I am not in the least bit impressed, and somehow I think the master vampire has had worse threats. "Be gone from here! I will not do business after sundown and especially to strangers!" he informs us with a shaky Northern British accent.

"My friend and I are in a bad way," Frank explains in that strange heavy accent that he used when he meant me in Florence. What is he up to? And can the man understand what he says? "We have lost all our clothes and our possessions in our travels except a certain amount of money. All we have left are these shabby clothes and the money in our pockets. We are not vagabonds as you might think. We have had to walk many miles through the country to get here."

His trembling hand lifts the pistol up to aim it at Frank's head. "I will do no business after dark!" he repeats, "There are many a queer thing afoot." He lowers the hand weapon and looks at Frank in the eye, then he nervously pulls his gaze away. He looks side to side. "They say that there are vampires out prowling the night. I am inclined to laugh at such words since this is the Nineteenth Century and not the Sixteenth, but I have seen many strange things over the last couple of weeks. I have seen the marks on men. They say that she has cat teeth, and I've seen her scarred in battle with blessed water and the crucifix. Her vampire companion is not right in the head., but she is capable of denying all the talismans that the foreigner wields. If I did not believe the rumors I hear, I would be happy to help you."

Frank clasps his hands together. "Please, allow us entrance. Come, do we look like vampires, my friend?" He asks with a wide toothy grin. Oh good God! How could he say that ! How can he grin like that? I elbow him in the back.

The man looks at us with a scrutinizing eye. That must be one great illusion he is pulling. I can see the wheels turning in the tailor's mind. He is trying to figure out whether we are just oddities or foreigners. Frank's accent should hint the latter. "Young Peter, they say fell ill from loss of blood last night. We thought we had driven the women from town a week ago. He says a man attacked him, but he's not really sure of the details. All he remembers is a tall person with dark hair and the pain of the attack. I guess it could have been the vampiress. She is quiet and has dark hair," he explains. He looks us over again. I self consciously try to do something with my clothes, but there is no hope for them. He sighs deeply and gives in. "I guess you are too obvious to be vampires. Our vampiress and her companion were quite young and attractive. We did not know them until too late." He puts the pistol away and shuts the door to unlatch it. He allows us entrance. I glare at Frank. He told me that the boy would not remember me. Yet, the boy showed no sign of contamination. I will have to believe that he will be alright. After all, he can still bear the cross, and I cannot.

I look around the store. There are many types of materials and costumes. I guess there has been a traveling theatrical group come through here recently, and this tailor has repaired some of the fancy disguises and made some to new designs. On the far wall in the dim candlelight is a calendar turned to the month of March with all of the dates crossed out except the 21st and after. The year is 1870! Frank was not lying about how many years have passed while we were in Limbo. I'm 82 now! Oh well, what is age to a vampire, but I have lost all my friends and family to death now. It makes me wonder what exactly is wrong with Lucy that she cannot die and is still considered a young woman, but she is able to not be harmed by those things that are holy. I lean against the door of the inner store and watch Frank put on his act.

He slings his arm around the tailor's shoulders. "Now, my dear fellow," he continues in his heavy accent, "My partner and I really need a change of clothing." He looks back at me and whispers to the man loud enough for me to hear, "Alestair, over there, he smells a bit, you would have to agree." The man does not respond to this statement, and I only roll my eyes skywards and shake my head.

"How may I help you?" the tailor asks at last.

"Well, Alestair needs a remake of his clothes . . . well, maybe something a little bit up to date. And as for me, well, I think I need a complete make over. Do you not agree?"

The tailor looks at his assailant and pulls away. Frank goes through the already made clothes. Holding the clothes up to his body, he looks to me and then the tailor for approval at each style. All the time he does this, he chats amiability about different sewing techniques with the tailor. I don't pay much attention, because I really have no idea of what he is talking about. Frank goes on to admiring the tailor's handiwork on different pieces, and our hosts seems to relax his tension about our oddness. Frank continues on his acts as though under different circumstances they could become good friends. I soon lose all interest in the whole goings on and drift off to my own gloomy thoughts.

Suddenly, Frank's eye is caught by something that he finds of great interest. He gives a yelp of triumph, and with an agility that defies his age, he jumps over a table. Grabbing the object, which is a black cavalier hat with a fluffy white plume, he flops it on his head and displays himself with that self satisfied grin on his face.

"Oh good God, Frank, you are not serious about wearing that thing in public! You look like the Pied Piper!" I complain.

The vampire holds up his finger. He selves into his clothes and comes up with his silver flute. "I do get around, my friend," he replies.

"What!" I cry out.

"I told you that I have been around in one form or another under many different titles since 1288," he replies happily.

"The story of the Pied Piper of Hameln took place in 1248, and he had a pipe not a flute," I point out flatly.

He crosses his arms and stomps his foot. He throws back his head and announces defiantly, "I was the Pied Piper with a flute in 1469! Legends has a way of mucking things up between 1469 and 1825. Besides," he adds with a wink, "why do you think the Pied Piper wanted the children?"

My jaw drops. "You are truly a monster!" I cry out in my shame. How could I have enjoyed the sound of his playing? How could I for a moment accept being his companion? I know what he is and what he is like.

He drops his shoulder and looks down. All the joy of a moment ago has fled his body. "I had never thought of that as wrong before now. I guess the children had no right to be destroyed like that. I should not have done that, especially with the flute. I am sorry, Alestair," he seats himself upon a stool. Looking across the room to the full length mirror that also denies our existence, he stares at it without caring for the sign of what we are. What difference does it make anyway. Although we do not argue in English, I am certain that our tailor has figured out something is not right. "I guess I am given this last chance to grey out my soul. At least, they are not making me do it alone this time." He turns his dark eyes to mine and smiles crookedly. "I will not allow you to learn about the loneliness that drives me to do such horrible things. You do not like me, but I am here."

Although I feel it is another one of his excuses, his words chill more than my existence. It does not excuse his cruelty or his evil, but what am I to do? I am stuck with him. I don't understand him and how he could be so proud of such a senseless murder as that and laugh about it? I look back to the mirror. I can see the terrified tailor edge his way to the doorway. Frank immediately knows and jumps from the stool to stop him. This startles both the poor man and myself. How can he mope like that one moment then corner his prey the next? The vampire charismatically slings his arm around the trembling terrified tailor and leads him back into his shop.

"Look, my dear fellow," he says in a reasonable and amicable voice, "We can talk a nice price for your services, and I swear upon all that I care about that no harm will befall you. We plan to leave as soon as possible and follow up the trail of the two women you spoke of. We only need appropriate clothing to get about a bit easier," he explains. I worry about what his idea of appropriate clothing might turn out to be. He doesn't seem to have much in the ways of fashion sense.

"I will not help the demons of Hell!" he exclaims as he crosses himself.

Frank is unaffected by this action. "Now, it is hard to believe, but we are on a mission of mercy. One of the women that we seek is his rightful wife, and she is not quite a vampire as of yet. All the same, she cannot die either. Well, it gets rather difficult to explain from there, my dear fellow. Just think of it this way- Alestair here finishes out the job that I left unfinished, and he is promising to kill himself afterwards. That means I will die also. Alestair is a peculiar fellow and acts a bit stand offish, but he is only a victim of the fang. He will be glad to tell you exactly how thrilled he is to be a vampire. I have heard nothing but that for the last three days. He does not handle the sight of blood at all well. Actually, I thought he would puke all over me last night, but the blood becomes part of our body too quickly for that."

"And I plan to keep it that way," I remark in English, although it is mostly aimed at Frank.

"Anyway, we are trying to keep from going to Hell in the end. I need to redeem myself in the worst possible way. I have not been a very nice person, and by helping Alestair and Lucy, I may find redemption. If nothing else, I will enjoy his company along the way."

"Go away, evil ones!" he cries out as he finds his dropped pistol and aims it at Frank.

The master vampire holds up his hands in more of an effort to calm the man than being on the defensive. I would not think that a pistol shot would kill him, but I do think it would not sit well with his physical being. Sweat beads off the terrified man's brow and the weapon trembles in his hand. "All we want is some of your clothes, my dear fellow."

The man continues to aim the firearm at him, but Frank raises his hand and the weapon falls from nerveless fingers. The man swallows hard and steps away backwards. "I will not abide in your destructive force. Go away! Please, go away!"

Frank throws down his arms. A darkness fills those bright eyes, and I see that monster that has so often haunted my nightmares. This is the monster that destroyed me and my home! "If you resist our simple requests, my friend and I will have to destroy not only you but your whole town. The Black Death is no fun! I know from first hand experience! I am well capable of bringing the Black Death here. So, do not provoke me."

My eyes open wide. For all the time that I have been back with him, he has done all in his power to convince me that he plans to do right. "Frank!" I exclaim. He waves his hand at me to be quiet.

"It is no longer only your life we are talking about sparing," continues that villain, "We care nothing for your petty race other than for food. Blood, infested with the Black Death, will not harm us. Will you give us the clothes we need, or will your people suffer as a result?"

"Orlock!" I cry out.

Frank grabs the trembling man's wrist to halt his flight. "We have little desire to hurt you. In fact, I rather like you. All we want to do is find Lucy. Our justice to her will be kinder than your justice. Come, my friend, we do not ask for that much. Let us only buy some of your already made clothes. I can alter them myself. We will leave with no more trouble."

"Now I do pity those women. You are the root of their plight and their curse! I will not aid in their damnation!" he returns bravely.

"Hmpf!" remarks the elder. He drops his shoulders and looks to me. "Oh well, I will leave it to you, Alestair. You think you can do something to convince him otherwise?" he asks in German.

"Even if I understood how to summon the rats, I WOULD NOT!" I exclaim back in the same language.

"Alestair, brilliance is not one of your strong points!" he complains loudly.

I glare at him. He has really caused enough chaos, and I will not help him do so! He knows that! "What!" I scream, "I am a new vampire! And even if I am damned and my whole sense of morals is now in ruins by my very existence, I will not aid you in the destruction of this town!"

That horrible thing shakes its head. He turns from me to the struggling captive human. Although its grip is tight on the man, there has been no blood shed nor bones broke. I know that monstrous vampire has enough strength to do some terrible harm to this poor man. To my surprise and the tailor's, a rat appears on the vampire's shoulder. The rodent runs down the length of his arm and pauses briefly at the master's wrist, then he continues forward to the human's shoulder. The tailor's eyes open wide with the prospect of what might be coming. I swallow hard. I remember the cries of the dying. It eats at me that it will start again!

The vile damnation smiles at his victim. "Now this rat may or may not carry the Black Death. If he does, I am capable of saving you and your town. I can be very selective of the blood I take. I can get to the illness before it takes hold of you. Of course, it is quite possible that my friend here does not carry the fleas that carry the Black Death."

The monster continues his speech, but my inaction is at an end. I have let this happen once before without doing anything, and I cannot let it happen again. If I kill him, then the plague will go away. Is that not what happened when my darling Lucy killed him? Why does God allow this thing to continue coming back to this world? He does this over and over again. I can't let it happen. I grab that hideous horror from behind. I have never been a strong man, but my unnatural state and my anger has given me a strength that I did not know existed. If I try hard enough, maybe I can break his neck. I have never killed a man, but I keep trying to tell myself this is no man that I fight. The vampire chokes, and I see that he is grasping the man's wrist tighter. I know of the shedding of blood even without seeing it. The man redoubles his struggle to release himself. I am sure that the fangs of that monster must be exposed for his sight. I wish that I did not have to put him through so much of a nightmare, but I must.

Finally, the thing releases his victim and claws at my grasping hands. It cries out, "Alestair, stop it. The rat is not infected! It is a bluff!"

THE RAT! I cease in my aggression to that demonic creature. I go to the petrified man. The rat and the man try to cringe away from my approach. There are no words that I can say to soothe the fear. I mean him no harm. I know I look too much like his attacker to regain his calm. The rat is aware of my intentions, but it does not have time to flee.

"No, Alestair, do no do this!" my horrible inflictor cries out, as he tries to fight me off. I am the stronger for a change. I win. I knock the rat with all my strength away from the victim. The rodent slams into the wall with a crushing bloody bang. I know it is dead without looking. I have no need to look nor do I want to see its remains. I feel my opponent slump into my shoulder. I can feel moisture through my coat. The tailor has lost consciousness. When he awakes, the horrors will be gone from his shop, and I hope we will never return again.

"It was only a threat, not an action," Frank sobs into my shoulder, "I am here to try and redeem myself. I have no intentions of bringing the Black Death here. The rat was clean of the fleas."

I turn around and he slumps to the floor. I don't now what to believe. He is such a liar. Why is he so upset? Is he innocent of wanting to bring harm this time? I run my fingers through my matted hair. Why me? Why can't I understand him? Still, there is nothing left to do. We might as well get what we can here for. I find a suitable change of clothes for myself. I am a bit tall, so it is hard to find pants the right length, but I manage. I change my attire and notice that I have a vast scar on my chest from where the stake was driven through my heart. I touch the place and I can feel a faint heartbeat. Why would a vampire, an undead creature, have a heartbeat? It makes no sense to me. Think, Jonathan! You got top grades in the classes that your father paid for. You should be able to figure this one out on your own. A vampire is a creature that lives on blood, so therefore the major organ of the blood should work. I guess it makes a warped kind of sense. I also notice that I have an accumulation of dirt in places that I didn't even know dirt could get to. It is as if this body dug its way out of a grave. Hmpf. Why would my family bother to bury a filthy vampire? I really need a bath. I find a second set of clothes, and I have assumed that Frank has been doing the same. It was a shock when I found him still sitting on the floor with his head bowed.

"Come on, you fool. We have harassed this man enough for a lifetime. I want us gone from here before he wakes up. You must change your clothes since that is the whole reason for coming here," I coax him.

"I have caused such a senseless death to one that trusts me, and I have caused such senseless fear to a man that, if we both had been alive, I could have called a friend," he mutters quietly.

I kneel before him. "Frank, I need you. I am aware that I have immense power, but I don't understand it. I don't know how to control it. We have to find Lucy. I am not strong like you. I can't make it alone." I try to console him. I am unsure why I should bother, but the things I have done this night and the other two nights I have been back frighten me more than I am really willing to admit. If he does not exist, then who will I turn to tell me what I can and cannot do? I don't want to inadvertently hurt someone with these accursed powers. I do not want to exist this way, but I must. I don't want to be alone.

"Why not?" he argues, "I made it alone. You are stronger than you think."

I remember some of my old self and how I originally felt towards him before he bit me. There is a part of me that smiles at that memory. I take his wrists and gently squeeze them I can't believe I am doing this. There is part of my fury kicking me in the teeth over this. "You are a likeable person, but it is too soon for me to give you my friendship. After all, I still hate you for making me a vampire, killing my people and especially for hurting Lucy. I can't forget the past just like that. How can I forget what happened? Eventually my heart will forgive you, but I just can't yet."

He looks up at me. I can see the tears in his eyes. Elias was wrong there. Vampires do not cry blood. "I want to be worthy of your friendship. I do not always mean to do wrong things. I just end up doing it anyway."

"Come on. Let's get on with our quest," I encourage.

A smile crosses his face and he nods in agreement. He pulls himself to his feet and goes to the clothes. He rummages through them and comes up with a decent couple sets of attire. His size being considerable smaller than mine is easier to find a fit. He displays out his new fashion for my approval, not that I think that makes any difference to him what I think. Still, the outfit is more in date than what he had. Although the only people we have seen since our return is a young farm boy and an over worked tailor, I would say that the clothes would blend us in with the times, because they seem to be a common cut. He now wears a black suit with a black cloak and black knee high boots. He wears a white scarf and now carries a silver headed cane. He gathers another set of a similar style and packs them into his spare cloak with his old clothes. He takes my spare clothes and puts them with his own. Searching through his pockets, he produces a pouch of what I would suspect to be coins and places it on the counter. I am unsure why he has bothered to be so civil to this man. It would be more like him to have killed him in the first place and be done with it all, or even worse, he could have made him a vampire as well.

He kneels down to the unconscious man on the floor and says, "I am sorry we have caused you so much trouble. I honestly did not mean to, and I mean what I said about your skills."

Then he moves to the spot where the bloody remains of the shattered rat lays. He passes a hand of over the body, and although I feel my stomach in my throat at the sight, I notice that the blood of the dead animal absorbs into his palm. Needless to say, I don't feel any better for the knowledge. He looks around the room with a sad smile on his face, then he looks to me.

"I have alliances with the rats. I think you understand that somewhere inside of you, my friend," he tells me.

I feel sicker now.

He outlines my face with one of those clawed fingers on his left hand. I pull away from him. "Come, my friend, we must flee. He will wake soon, and we will be pursued."

'"And whose fault is that?" I point out.

"Specifically yours!" he returns quickly with a crooked smile, "I thought you would take up the fight with me."

"Did it occur to you that I am not happy with the deed that lies ahead of us much less torturing humans?" I remark sardonically. He shrugs as a response. I furrow my brow and a thought came to me that has been bothering me for some while. "And, by the way, what are we going to do when we catch Lucy?"

"You are going to bite her, my friend," he says nonchalantly as he tidies my clothes and grabs that stupid hat from the stool he sat on earlier.

Fortunately for him, I am too preoccupied to argue that. "I am going to do what?" I scream.

"What do you think you were going to do when I explained what was wrong with her and how to solve it?" he asks as he exits out on the deserted streets again.

I rush behind him. "Oh good God!" I exclaim, "How am I going to do this?"

He turns to me with a cheeky sarcastic smile on his lips. "Oh . . . it is quite simple. You were not given fangs for nothing, you know, my friend."

"But . . . but . . . she's my wife," I stammer.

He shrugs and licks a finger to test the direction of the wind. "So, what is your problem? You have shed her blood before," he remarks as he points out a direction.

I glare at him with a hint of a snarl with the vile remark he just made and follow him.

He grins wider, "I am inexperienced in such matters, but I am not stupid," he replies.

"You're a foul minded old lech!" I complain.

"You know," he says trying to sound reasonable like he is trying to sell me something, "It is like the story about the Sleeping Beauty. The prince kisses the sleeping princess to wake her from her dreams," he says pleasantly enough, then he shrugs again and adds brightly, "But in your case it is called the kiss of doom."

"I think I am going to be sick!" I groan.

"Look," he remarks as he turns on me. He takes my arms and looks up at me. "You are the third vampire. She will welcome your bite, my friend. I take it that she loves you. Why else would she have sacrificed herself in this way?"

"She did love me at one time," I answer with those seeds of doubt planting in my mind. How could she continue to love me like this and what I am about to do to her?

"Then she still does. Trust me on this one, my boy. I do know a few things." He lets go of me and continues forward in the direction that he pointed out. "What better than having her love for the last bite?"

I don't understand the logic of that statement. It strikes me as to what exactly he is planning for me to do. "How is making her a vampire going to save her soul?" I ask.

"She has her logic again and she can repent like I did. The powers that be will send you to Purgatory for awhile. The two of you are believable, my friend. They will not have to send you back here to prove that you are true to your word. I, personally, would much rather live again instead of facing final judgement."

"I can't do this," I complain.

"Do not worry about it now, my friend. We will work out the details when we find her. You know, you ought to try and live out the vampirism for awhile. It can be quite fun once you get used to it."

"So that you can grab a victim and you won't have to return with us! No, 'my friend'. The three of us are going to leave this existence as soon as I am done! I will not put her through the Hell I lived through last night!"

He turns to me with a knowing smile that sender shivers down my spine. "Oh, we will see. We will see."