To Zoë, a line not to be crossed is a challenge, including the social mores of the twelfth century. Also, I've done my best to make this story historically accurate.
After the Christmas celebration, Eric stayed away from court in the hope that if Zoë did spill his secret, no one would believe her and no one would try to confront him. Reassuringly, from his nightly prowls in the city's underbelly, he heard no rumors about any vampire, and neither had Heroditus.
"Perhaps the human did keep her mouth shut, Northie. My advice would be to return to court, see if you're treated any differently. If you're greeted with stakes, we know she told," he chortled.
Eric was pacing back and forth nervously. One hundred fifty years (after the turning) was an awkward age for a vampire, as the immortal slowly shifted from a cautious existence into a long-term stability. It also was an age where self-confidence was not a good trait for a vampire as they struggled to find their place.
"You know, Eric, it's common for a vampire to search for a companion around the same age you are."
"No, I don't want anything serious to develop. I like the games I play at night."
"Oh really? Then why are you pacing? And it's not because you're afraid of attack. If you were a target, you'd have been attacked by now."
Eric looked up with a shocked expression. "But I've kept everything about myself secret. I've been welcome in Constantinople for forty years now. How could anyone leave a vampire in their midst unharmed for so long?"
"Because no one can be sure. Eric, be glad we live in a time when anything can be believed and denied. If these humans ever start figuring things out, start deciding what is dangerous and what should be destroyed—" Heroditus shuddered. "We survivors would be driven into hiding. That was our situation at the height of the Roman Empire. Vampires were supposedly imaginary monsters, scary nightmares. None of us could live in a city and not be driven out, staked, and wiped from memory."
"And all this has to do with me how?" Eric had heard this lesson from the ancient vampire several times over.
Heroditus frowned. "Because you showed yourself to a human girl, you fool! You are correct, your life is in her hands now."
Eric stood up. "I will find her, and I'll talk to her. I think she knows the significance of this. But I will verify for myself. She will do the right thing, I am sure of it."
"And if she does not? If she cannot keep quiet about our community?"
"Then she has no choice but to join us," growled the Viking.
"Ah ha, Northie. I thought you said you didn't want to touch her."
Eric opened his mouth to reply, but turned and stalked out the door, deep in brooding thought at the situation he was in.
On New Year's Eve, his worst fears would be calmed. As soon as the Sun was down, there was a knock on the door of the large house Eric occupied. Eric opened the door grumbling at the timing as he was still in a house robe, and found to his surprise a courier, clearly from a well-to-do family, holding a letter on parchment. "Are you the Swedish envoy?" asked the courier somewhat nervously of the tall man.
"Yes. And you would be?"
"The messenger for the Nakratous family. I have a letter to you from the young lady."
Eric's eyebrows went up. The courier gave Eric the letter, bowed in respect, and walked away.
Eric unfolded the letter, his eyes running over the delicate Greek text. There was only one line.
Meet me in the garden after dark. Zoë.
Eric chuckled. "Well, well, what do we have here?" He folded the letter back up, and quickly got dressed.
True to her word, Zoë was waiting in the same spot they had talked a few nights earlier. Her eyes lit up when she saw the tall Viking.
"Hello, Eric. I've been a good girl, haven't told a soul. Helen, my friend, thinks I am at the palace ball right now."
Eric sighed in relief. "You've done well. I've been thinking about you, about last week."
"Oh, you have?" Zoë had a playful gleam to her eyes that set the cautious vampire on edge. "I'll admit, I've been wondering too. I have a lot of questions for you."
Eric laughed. "You certainly are eager. Are you sure you did not tell anyone who I am?"
Zoë shook her head. "You said you'd be killed. That is the last thing I'd want."
That sentence touched something deep within him. "Thank you," he said honestly. They walked in silence for a short time, Zoë sorting through questions in her head.
"So can you be out at day at all?"
"No. Bad things happen very quickly. The warm summer sun is something I will never know again. You are lucky that you still can."
"Is it lonely being a vampire?"
Zoë's question caught Eric unaware. He opened his mouth to say no, thinking of the women he had seduced, the nobles he knew. But did he really know any of them? He realized that this girl was unique, that she was reviving the long-hidden human part of him, that she made him realize just how lonely he had been.
"Yes. I cannot show my true self in any public setting, I have to constantly keep that part of me down." He cocked his head. "You are the first human I've told any of this."
"I feel honored." Zoë was entranced by the mystery surrounding this man, and pleased by how talkative she had gotten him to be. Eric looked her up and down, wondering just what an attractive young woman was doing out alone this late in such a big city.
"What do your parents think about you being out so often?"
Zoë looked down. "My father is in Bulgaria, and my mother passed when I was born."
"I'm sorry to hear that." Eric nodded. "I've lost people too."
Zoë looked at him. "When you became a-a vampire, did it, well, hurt?"
"Yes." Eric's blue eyes were piercing in the cool night air. "Having a two-inch fang sliding into your neck? Of course it did. But the pain quickly fades to nothing."
"I can't imagine that." Zoë was shaking her head. "How old were you?"
"I was in my mid-twenties. I've forgotten most of it. Being turned is not something to remember." He shook his head as a lump formed in his throat, and Zoë quickly changed the topic, and shocked the Viking.
"Yeah. I read a scroll a few months ago that had a story on it about a man who was made into a vampire by the most beautiful woman in the village." She smirked. "It went into a lot of detail about what precisely the man and woman did. My father had it hidden deep inside a jar in his room. That tale certainly was...informative." She laughed, and Eric was startled by her candor, trying to think of what would be a suitable reply. He decided there was none. He laughed with her, and looked out to the ships at sea.
"I'll tell you, the thing I miss most is the feel of a boat out on the ocean on a breezy day. Have you heard of the Vikings, Zoë?"
She nodded. "Although I haven't read much about them."
"I have several of the old epics written down in Swedish. I could probably put them in Greek for you."
"I'd like that." She reached out and ran a hand up his arm, feeling the soft fabric. Eric shot her a dark look, and she stopped.
"I'm sorry, Zoë, but this still doesn't feel right. I'm a vampire, something no other human knows but you. I have to go." He turned to leave, but she grabbed his hand.
"So what if this isn't right? Eric, for years I have been trapped at home with nothing but parchment and knitting. If my father had his way, I'd be married to some count as old as he is. You're different. You're from another land, you know so much, you're something forbidden. Please stay, Eric." She gazed up at him.
Eric's mind was racing. One part of him wanted to get away from this situation, to get away form the strange pull of this girl who was so unafraid. But another part was urging him to stay and see what happens. Zoë reached up and touched his cool cheek. Too close, Eric, too soon, you're crossing a line, it never turns out well—
In the distance, a church bell started ringing, and Zoë smiled. The bells marked the start of anno domini 1153, and Zoë knew what to do. She stood on tiptoes as Eric gave in and bent down, their lips meeting in a kiss, the first of Zoë's life. It started out chaste, but Zoë quickly grabbed his head. Eric could tell she was inexperienced, but the passion she was putting into the embrace was both arousing and scaring him. Just what was it about Zoë Nakratous?
Suddenly, he felt his fangs pop out and Zoë jerked away with a cry. Eric clasped his hand to his mouth as Zoë dabbed at her lip, blood pooling. "Are—are you all right?"
Zoë looked up with a frightened expression.
Eric gulped. "You should be home." Zoë nodded voicelessly. As she walked out of the garden, Eric followed behind to ensure she made it safely. He tasted a coppery liquid on his fang: blood.
Zoë's blood.