Chapter 3: Travels
I travelled the country, learning anything when I could. But there was just too much risk of running into people I had known. So one day, I decided it was time to leave England. I would swim the English Channel to France and continue my studies there.
The swim across the English Channel was not an easy feat, for a human. But as a vampire, I could swim faster, longer, and I did not have to worry about drowning, because I did not need air. I started running south at a steady pace until I came to the shore. I caught hints of human along the way, but in the months since my transformation, I had worked on my self-control. I could spend a little bit of time among humans without having to worry about attacking one of them. To be sure, I went hunting for animals every night before coming into contact with humans. Over time, the bright red of my eyes faded to more of a red-brown color, and then to a rich, topaz color. The humans were still unnerved a bit by my topaz color, but they would have sent an angry mob at me if my eyes had remained red.
At the shore, I paused to look out over the English Channel. Even with my vampire vision, I could not see France on the other side of the Channel. That did not stop me though. Without another thought, I jumped into the cold water, clothes and all.
I did not really feel cold; my skin was probably much the same temperature, maybe even colder. And my clothes minds as well have been nonexistent. They did not weigh me down or hold me back. Somewhere during the swim I lost my boots and my jacket ripped. By the time I saw the shores of Cap Gris Nez, still ten miles away, I was swimming in just my un-dyed undershirt and my breeches. I passed some ships on the way, the Channel was a major shipping thoroughfare, but none of them came close enough to notice me. I swam on and on, never resting because I did not tire. The rhythm of my strokes was fast. The less time I spent in the water, the less chance there was of a boat noticing me, or crashing into me. To be honest, I was not sure what would get hurt more, my or the unfortunate vessel.
It did not matter though because I made it across in about three hours. I made the 21 mile swim across the channel and came ashore at Cap Gris Nez, the closest point of France to England. To the south was Calais. I could start my search for a place to learn medicine there.
But I also needed to learn French. As the son of a pastor, I knew Latin and some French by extension, but not enough. I already found it was easier to remember. I could see pages I looked at and repeat their contents back with perfect accuracy. I remembered everything. There just seemed to be more space in my mind to remember. My human memories were already fading into the background, leaving sharp vampire memories. I figured this new memory would come in handy when I began my formal studies, helping me to progress faster. I already figured out that I did not age. I would forever remain 23 years old; not a bad age to remain, but still young to be considered seriously. I would have to prove my skill from now on, never relying on the wisdom of age to get me anywhere. According to the humans, I was almost too young to be a doctor. Almost.
So I traveled through France. I studied at a number of schools, the biggest being in Paris, for music, science, and most of all, medicine. I ended up taking a job there as a physician's assistant. I helped the doctor and did some work on my own. I treated everyone who came to me, doing my best to help them. By night, I worked. But when the sun came up, I locked myself away in the room I rented and did not come out until the sun sank, once more, below the horizon. The only exception to this routine was a rainy or overcast day. After 6 or so years, I moved. People started to get curious, and I could not afford curiosity during this time period. I did not need witch-hunters banging on my door.
Each time I moved, I took on a new surname. As my French sounded more and more like a native speaker's, I could pass myself off as a Frenchman. After 50 years or so,—about eight moves— I finally learned all I could from France. So I had one last cycle in Paris, working at an infirmary on the other side of town I had first stayed in, before I began moving south. I had a brief stay in Spain, and then moved down to Italy.
In Italy, I was able to be less careful about my human contact. The witch-hunting craze was over; the 18th century was well on its way. The Italian apothecaries were of particular interest to me at the time, but I also learned their techniques to compliment my French education. For the most part, the Italians were welcoming, though they were always wary of me. I was a lone traveler after all, and I found humans seemed to instinctually shy away from me. Perhaps some intuition, deep down inside them, told them that I was a predator. That was the only way I could describe myself. I was a predator, designed to kill humans, who was committed to saving them.