Diary of a Vampeen (17 page)

This should have been odd; I mean what
parent entertains guests in the dead of night in the dark? Sadly
though, it didn’t feel strange. I searched for the light and
flipped it on cautiously. Sitting on the couch was my mother, my
Aunt Claire, Kellan, a man and a woman I presumed to be his parents
since he vaguely resembled them. I suddenly felt awkward, like the
odd man out.

“Come have a seat here,” my mother
directed patting the empty space between her and my
aunt.

Seeing my aunt and mother side by side
was like seeing a mirrored reflection. The only differences were my
aunt had short shoulder length hair, less cleavage, and though she
was older, she never had children so her hips were still narrow.
When they were younger, my gran dressed them alike pushing a
resemblance of twins since they were only a year apart.

“Umm, what’s going on?” I was
bewildered as I sat between them.

“Well, honey, these are Kellan’s
parents,” she stated gesturing toward them with her right hand.
“This is his mother, Elizabeth.”

Kellan’s mother looked nothing like I
imagined though I did recognize her from the photo. She’s a
gorgeous young woman, slender with auburn hair and soft lips,
though her top is a bit fuller than her bottom. She had a heart
shaped face that somehow fit her warm, motherly aura. But what
caught my attention was her eyes. Kellan got his eyes from his
mother though hers were more hazel than green.

“You can call me Beth,” she said with
a friendly smile.

“And this is his father, Alessandro,”
she pointed towards him on the far end of the sectional.

He was a visually dominant person. His
muscles were clearly defined through his blue v-neck t-shirt. There
was a sense of mystery and darkness set amongst pain surrounding
him; I immediately knew where Kellan got it from. He looked
dangerous, yet still approachable and protective over his family.
He looked like he belonged in the vampire version of ‘The Sopranos’
but set in the early 1900s for some reason.

“Are you planning to inform her?”
Alessandro asked in a gruff voice with a slight Italian-New York
accent.

“Tell me what?” I looked to my mother
for answers.

She exchanged looks with my aunt
before sighing, “I suppose we should warn her just in
case.”

“Warn me?” I was abruptly
uneasy.

“I didn’t go to the office tonight
sweetie. We had an emergency VVA meeting.”

“VVA? What is that?” I was confused
and felt slightly overwhelmed by everyone.

“The Vampire and Vampeen Alliance,” my
aunt responded.

“Is that like some secret
society?”

“No. It’s the only allegiance of our
kind,” Beth answered.

This was growing ever more difficult
to understand. The moment I believed to have a handle on the idea
of what I was to become, something was shaken and stirred; another
angle was abruptly thrown in. I felt like midnight would come
Thursday night and I would have more questions than answers, more
anxiety than peace.

I remained overwhelmed by everything.
I never knew my life could be turned upside down in less than a
week to the point where I was questioning my identity.

Noticing my silence, my mother took
the reins to explain. “Let me explain our history Lexi; this may
provide you some answers. You see, the first documented vampeen was
Johanne Euskadi. He was born in Romania, but left at the age of
sixteen deemed an outcast. His mother did not survive his birth;
his father, a vampire, rebuked him ashamed of his human affair.
Johanne was a cross between both worlds, yet belonged in neither
after his transformation.

“So he traveled all of Europe, parts
of Africa and Asia for a place to call home. He lingered in
Germany, Czechoslovakia, France, Italy, the Soviet Union, and
Greece, but settled in Basque Country, Spain. He married Araceli
Maria Criscencia, a human native, who later gave birth to their
daughter Cristianna Rose Euskadi. Like his mother, his wife did not
survive labor. Johanne was left to raise his daughter alone.
Shortly after her transformation, Cristianna met and fell in love
with Juliano Del Torro, a vampire.

“Johanne despised vampires because of
his father’s denial of him and the ridicule he endured from them
after his transformation; therefore he forbid his daughter from
seeing Juliano. It was over his self-hatred of the vampires that he
drove his daughter to flee with Juliano, leaving Johanne alone
again. In anger, he dedicated the remainder of his life to the
vanquish of vampires near and far, thus setting the precedence of
each kind to hate the other.

“He created a vampeenic tongue
comprised of the many areas of the world he knew and loved, but
ensured the verbiage was too complicated to be logical in
comparison, and converted the language of Basque Country to
Euskara. It spread amongst the natives, beginning as slang until it
progressed. Johanne married again and had three sons who continued
his mission throughout the world.

“Vampeens, still today, are strict in
their association and most seek to kill all vampires they come
across. Thus, to protect themselves, the vampires began destroying
vampeens in large numbers. Even in Euskadi, as Basque Country is
sometimes prevailed, it is divided. The French part of Basque
Country inhabits a plethora of vampires, where as vampeens are
headquartered within the Spanish regions. And now, a vampire
radical is running rampant murdering vampeens during their
twenty-four hour transformation.”

I was stunned. I didn’t
know what to say. I didn’t even know if I could speak. I knew I had
an empty scared look on my face, but I couldn’t shake it. This
couldn’t be happening.
I must be dreaming.
This isn’t possible.

One week ago, I was a normal teen.
Then Kellan showed up - okay so he was already there just in the
silent backdrop – and since then everything had changed. How could
this be real? You’re only supposed to read about this stuff, see it
in movies, not live through it and amongst it.

“H… How…is…,” I tried to speak but
failed.

Kellan clued in on where I was going
and answered the unspoken. “When you go through your
transformation, you sleep for twenty-four hours. But it’s not like
you do every night. It’s like you’re under anesthesia, you can’t
hear or feel anything. So if this vampire took a stake to your
heart, you wouldn’t feel it. You also couldn’t prevent it; you
can’t move.”

His mother continued for him in a
soothing voice, “You are to be locked away in the dark during this
process. Traditionally, you would be placed in a sealed coffin to
ensure no light touches you. This is the one time when vampire
myths and restrictions apply to you entirely.”

Though I should have been scared silly
at the idea of being locked in a coffin unable to fight off a crazy
vampire murderer, I wasn’t. Actually, I suddenly understood the
weight placed upon my choice, the choice my mother said was between
a human and a vampire. I realized now that my decision forever
associates me with one side or another. They didn’t intermingle the
way I assumed previously. I could feel the stress across my face as
I reveled in this new revelation.

“Don’t worry sweetie,” my mother said
giving me a one-armed embrace at the same time as my
aunt.

“Listen Lexi,” Alessandro stated
firmly, “We’ve devised a plan. I’ve been training Kellan for
several months to fight off attackers. Since the gender of this
assailant is unknown, I feel better with both of us men being there
to ward off any attempts. Kellan and I will stand guard. Your aunt,
mother and Beth will be on stand-by just in case though I don’t
believe it will come to that. I do promise you that you will be
safe.”

“Thank you Al,” my mother offered her
gratitude, clutching me even tighter.

He spoke with such confidence that I
felt a bit of peace surround me. I wasn’t okay with this, but I
didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t stop fate; I couldn’t prevent what
was to come Thursday night at midnight. I merely shook my head in
acknowledgement.

Ugh. I can’t believe
vampires want to kill vampeens. And how do they find us anyways? Do
we smell different? Hmm… I should ask…

“Umm…just out of curiosity, how is
this vampire tracking me?” I asked cautiously.

“There are a few ways. First, the
master record of all vampeens in the world and their children yet
to be transformed is catalogued in Basque Country within a secured
data network underground. Recently, this information was hacked,
and they’ve yet to find the culprit. Also, we have our distinct
scents, but the scent of ,well, you, two weeks prior to your
transformation is capable of luring travelers hundreds of miles
away. You have a very strong scent right now,” Aunt Claire
explained while watching my face intently for any changes in my
demeanor due to stress. I swore everyone thought I was going to
keel over at any moment due to overload… which could definitely be
the case.

“Great,” I muttered sarcastically. “So
in three days I’ll sleep for twenty-hour hours in a coffin dead to
the world. I’ll wake up no longer human or I could just not wake up
at all if this crazed vampire gets to me. Oh and after I can’t tell
a living soul, note the difference, and could possibly lose all my
friends and be deemed an outcast!” I huffed in
frustration.

I was enthralled. Four days was
definitely not enough time for anyone to accept the terms of this
death sentence. What was my mother thinking in keeping this from me
until the very end?! And now they’re springing this on me last
minute. What more could go wrong in my life?!

Just as a boy finally noticed me and
my life as a teen was evolving into something great, Boom! Smack!
Snatch! It’s all gone! Ripped from under me!

I was angry at my parents for this, at
my heritage with its stupid sixteen year stipulation. Unable to
hide my distaste, I blurted, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why
did you wait until the last freaking minute to divulge it all?” I
belligerently balled my hands into fists, centered myself towards
my mother and waited for her excuse.

“I’m sorry Alexa,” she offered in a
soft, sincere tone. “Maybe I was in denial. I do not want this life
for you, but I cannot change it and neither can you. I promise to
be there and help you every way I can, but first you must accept
your fate as I have.”

My body was tense, though I loosened
my hands. I peered around the room, looked into the eyes of my new
family. I felt silly, selfish for my actions. None of the people
before me chose this lifestyle; with the exception of Al, they were
born into this. Each one of them received this curse at conception;
this was their hereditary disease.

Shame – I was ashamed of
myself. My parents did not raise me to be weak. I’d learned from
the strongest woman I knew – my mother. I realized this must have
been just as strenuous for all of them as it was for me; why should
I feel more entitled than they?
Ugh. I’m
such a mess, yet not one of them sits here judging me or casting
stones at me for my ignorance.

I sat there in silence, observing each
person before me as guilt spread throughout me for at least five
minutes. No one spoke recognizing my need for a bit of space
mentally. Surprisingly, it was Al who spoke first.

“Lexi, I know this must be difficult
for you, but allow me to share my own story. You are not alone in
your uncertainty and struggles.”

I shook my head once accepting his
offer.

He began, shifting his husky voice
into a soothing baritone. “You may be wondering how old I am. To
answer that, I was born in 1891 in Savannah, Georgia. My parents
were human. A year later my father moved us to upstate New York for
his work. My parents were the first of their families to venture to
America. My mother was born and raised in Tuscany, Italy and my
father was born in Germany as his father was a borrowed soldier in
their army, but was raised in Madrid, Spain where his family
originates.

“Upon graduation, my father traveled
to Tuscany to study in the wineries. It was there that he met my
mother. My father was a brilliant business man. He built a trusted
relationship with the owners of the vineyards and agreed to
introduce their wines to the finest restaurants in America. He and
my mother wed in Tuscany before setting sail for the new
world.

“It was in the middle of the Atlantic
that I was conceived. Their ship docked in Savannah and that is
where my parents decided to settle for nearly two years. One day,
my father read of the upscale mountain resorts and the fine log
cabin eateries of upstate New York. The next day he packed us up
and we travelled by train to our new home.

“Growing up in fine restaurants with
the gourmet cuisine shared by the social celebrities of that era, I
became fascinated with the art of food. So after graduating, I
travelled south into the city, New York City that is, in 1923 to
the Culinary Academy. It was a tiny school, but captured brilliant
chefs of varying cultural backgrounds as instructors.

“I focused on my studies. I was the
first student to arrive and the last to leave. I practiced dicing
and pairing, sculpting and searing to the point of insanity.
Eventually the head master trusted me with a set of keys to the
school. The next night I closed up for the first time alone. It was
nearly midnight and the streets were mostly deserted. I lived only
three blocks from the school and thus began my tread
home.