Judas and the Vampires (32 page)

“Who are you, anyway?” I asked, scooting back against the wall our bunk beds lean up against. I kept my fingers on the Tazer beneath my pillow, trying to remember how to turn the damn thing on without actually seeing the switch. “And what do you want with me?”

“My name is Armando Iocura,” he replied, glancing at the pillow. “I’m one of five emissaries who have traveled across the Atlantic to see you! We are here to make sure your pretty little neck stays pristine and whole.”

He paused, as if waiting for me to respond in some way. But all I could think of was Irma Goizane with her throat torn out.

“Not so pretty an image, is it? It’s most unfortunate that others have also traveled across the ocean. Although, their more primitive senses lack the keenness to define exactly
what
they are searching for,” said Armando, removing any doubt that he could read my thoughts. I was at a worse disadvantage than I previously imagined. “They don’t possess our heightened sense of smell, nor our lucid intuition.”

He proudly tapped his long sharp fingernails against his head to emphasize this point, the manicured tips glistening in my flashlight’s glow.

“So, what are you two, then?” We no longer needed to dance around the pink elephant in the room. “Are you vampires?”

It felt extremely weird to say it. They both snickered.

“Yes, we are vampires,” said Armando, allowing his smile to widen far enough to reveal his gleaming fangs again. I gasped, slightly. “You have no need to fear us, as we are the good ones. We’ve traveled a very long way to protect you from those that are not so good.”

It was impossible at that point to know what was the truth and what was bullshit. So far, it sounded like these two were knights in shining armor and the others were stupid trolls.

“The ‘bad ones’ must have some special senses to make it here, if they’re the ones who killed Irma Goizane,” I said.

“The ‘others’ knew beforehand that one of your kind resides in America,” said Garvan, his long locks shielding his gaze, making his previously easy-to-read expression hard to see.

He threw back his head and shook it, the hair falling away from his face to reveal his handsome features clearly. His mouth formed a slight smile as he studied me. Armando looked over at him and nodded. 

“The reasons as to why this is so isn’t important,” he continued, after releasing a low sigh. “What
is
imperative is that no harm comes to you, as I told you last night.”

“So, you two are truly,
real
live vampires, huh?”

It still seemed really weird to me. …
Vampires?
Seriously??

“I’m not sure that ‘live’ is the right word to define us. We are not pale enough for you, no? Do you know anyone else who can effortlessly float above your bed while carrying on such a pleasant conversation?”

Armando motioned to Garvan, and they both rose toward the ceiling. 

I suddenly realized they had drifted like this during our entire conversation, instead of standing on the floor, as I had assumed. Perhaps if they were dressed like Bela Lugosi, with black tuxes and white shirts beneath full-length capes, it might’ve been an easier pill to swallow. Both wore jeans and flannel shirts. Given their sleek features, they seemed more like pale-faced lumberjacks best suited for a parade along Madison Avenue, or for a Calvin Klein advertisement.

“But to answer your question, yes, we are very
real
, and we are most certainly vampires,” Armando continued, while his and Garvan’s heads bobbed just below the ceiling. Garvan moved closer to him, allowing me to hold my flashlight in one spot instead of alternating back and forth between them.

“So, it’s a bunch of pretty ‘Hollywood’ vampires against the so-called ‘others’, huh?”

Really, this meaningful question posed from an irreverent perspective slipped out before I could consider the consequences. The initial looks I got from my visitors made me regret it, but before I could apologize for being so forward, Garvan spoke up again.

“In a sense, you are not far off the mark,” he advised, his expression solemn. “Like your movie stars, only a few fortunate souls make it to the Big Screen, as they say. That is similar to us, where just a few hundred vampires like us exist throughout the entire world. However, the army that is looking to destroy your kind numbers in the thousands.”

This revelation sounded ridiculous. I mean, all this attention for just little ole me?

“So, these other vampires don’t look much like you two, huh?”

I’m not sure why I didn’t just ask them straight up what their counterparts looked like. It’s not often that I’ll beat around the bush.

“That is correct,” said Armando. “Perhaps you would find them grotesque and frightful. The closest thing you have in your modern world that I can compare them to are vampires like Nosferatu. But even his portrayal on the silver screen would be considered generous compared to the race known to the people of Spain as
‘La sangre fea embauca’
.”

“Or
‘Monstres Glabres’
to the good citizens of France,” added Garvan, almost interrupting Armando, which drew another stern look from him. Garvan looked away. If a hierarchy or pecking order exists among vampires, I had just been given a clue as to who’s the boss between these two.

“These other vampires are like rabid dogs,” Armando resumed, after returning his attention to me. “They are highly dangerous mongrels with no self control…no decency. They feast on what amounts to road kill in your terms, at least until recently. La sangre fea embauca were once a menace to ancient villages in Europe and Asia until the Industrial Age. They scurried underground like the vile vermin they are, and we’ve rarely heard from them since the early nineteenth century…. But, now they have regained a lust for living blood and tissue, and no longer are content to hide in the shadows like recluse spiders, waiting for a meal to show up for them.”

He studied my expression. I’m sure he sought a trace of squeamishness in my blank look. But, I was fascinated by what he spoke about…about these other vampires with an obvious bent toward violence.

“So, you and they are different?” I persisted. “Yet, you both survive off the blood of people—“

“Or, sometimes animals too,” interjected Garvan. “But our kind doesn’t need to feed as often as the others do.” He nodded thoughtfully.

“The difference is in how strong the ‘germ’ is with them,” said Armando. “The mutation they bear comes from the same source that has afflicted everyone of us, a condition that
all
vampires deal with. Think of Chupacabras. You have heard of these creatures, no?”

“The hairless mutated dogs that attack sheep and cows down in Texas? Yes, I’ve heard of them.”

“They’re in Mexico, too,” said Garvan, who then quickly nodded to Armando.

“Yes, they are,” agreed Armando, glancing briefly toward our door as if he just heard something. Perhaps an RA had heard him speak…. That could be bad for Elaine Johnson, if she ventured a peek inside my room. “They, too, suffer from a germ that is similar to ours, although the canine version does not slow the aging process. But the mutations are almost immediate…loss of hair and elongated fangs and claws.”

“Is that what usually happens to you?”

Armando opened his mouth to respond, but then stopped. He looked over at Garvan, and they both shook their heads.

“No, it will not happen to us—
definitely
not!” he said, turning his attention back to me. “There is not enough time to explain how this whole thing works tonight. Our adversaries once started out like us, but then changed. We are different, based on something in addition to the germ in our systems…something that makes us truly unique. Thus, our numbers run much smaller than theirs….”

He paused to look at the door again. Then, he suddenly disappeared and I heard the doorknob shake, the lock being checked. An instant later he rejoined Garvan at my bed.

“I’m afraid I must wrap this up.” Armando’s voice dropped to a whisper as he drew nearer to me.

“So, are you two going to try and drink my blood?”

His face came within a few inches of mine. The scent of ginger grew stronger. I feared a repeat of last night, where in the blink of an eye my blood had been drained—enough to make me pass out. What would happen if they took even more blood tonight?

“You are a silly girl, Txema!” he chided me, pausing to look again at Garvan, whose face had also drawn near...so beautiful in his deathly comeliness, his brilliant eyes pulling on my heart. Or, was it my very soul? “We have no intentions of defiling your sacred fountain…at least not tonight!” 

He smiled, mischievously, his fangs glistening in my flashlight’s glow. They seemed bigger than before.

“As I said, we are
not
like the others that are here—the human Chupacabras,” he continued. “Think of us instead as a holier form of humanity, and one that is immortal—at least in terms of what you understand immortal to mean. We are like the Roman Greco gods of old, as they were based on what we are. And consider this…Garvan and I do not need to read history books to learn what took place in Europe during the last five hundred years. We were there!”  

“This is true,” Garvan chimed in. “I’ve spent many a night in Marie Antoinette’s presence, as a member of her court. Most of her aristocrat attendants had no idea that I was different from them. I never needed to powder my face to blend in!” He smiled wryly as he reminisced.

The doorknob jiggled again, and a key slipped into the lock from outside the room. 

“Time to go, Txema!” said Armando, his excited voice rising above the whisper he had spoken with. “Garvan told you last evening to stay indoors, and that edict remains in effect for you. This is mandatory from sunset to dawn. They are hunting for you, and are getting closer. Each victim they take will be closer to here, I fear. Although, I do wonder why they have left a corpse behind. Usually, they take a body with them to feed on for days and weeks…like an African crocodile.”

“They struck again?”

I was distracted by a crack of light that had just entered my room. When I turned to look back at my visitors they had vanished.

“Yes,” Armando and Garvan’s echoed voices said in unison. “Stay alive, Txema!”

“Txema? Tyreen?” Elaine stepped into my room, armed with her own flashlight. Tall, blonde, and athletic, her hair was disheveled. She looked like she barely had time to don her slippers and a bathrobe over her nightgown. “I thought I heard a man’s voice in here.”

As if a guy wouldn’t be somewhere on our floor during most nights. 

Nearly all of the rooms on the women’s wing of the fourth floor have seen their share of men come and go. I guess maybe it’s a question of discreetness. A glance at my bedside alarm clock confirmed that notion. It was 2:41 a.m. Boisterous male vampires apparently had awakened one of the girls on my floor, who in turn roused Elaine from her room. It made me worry about Tyreen again, since no sound came from her bed.  Did they hurt her with something stronger than a mere ‘tap’?

Suddenly two quick clicks resounded from the window, and both Elaine and I directed our flashlights to the swaying curtain. 

“What in the hell?” she whispered, after she moved over to the curtain and pulled it back. 

Not only was the window shut, the latch was locked.

It left her muttering to herself, staring out the window at the nearby security light’s glare and the early morning darkness beyond. A gentle breeze caressed the windowpane, and no vampires were in sight.

Lucky for me, she left, although in a huff. I couldn’t tell for sure if she was mad at me, or annoyed that she didn’t find anyone. At least when she turned the overhead light on, I could tell that Tyreen was okay, sleeping soundly. And I have no doubt that once Elaine returned to her room, she promptly went back to sleep.

If only it was that easy for me. Left to think about my recent conversation, I couldn’t go to sleep right away. One theme repeated in an endless loop, keeping my weary mind awake. Garvan and Armando…. Were they truly good vampires? Or, were they more like the bad vamps they spoke about, just pretending to be good?

Time would surely tell.

Chapter 6

What a difference one day can make. Twenty-four hours after a brutal homicide rocked the campus, the morning hustle and bustle in getting ready for Thursday’s bevy of classes and other events was a somber affair. Not that everyone took things seriously, as Peter and Johnny made serial killer jokes at breakfast. Enough to really upset Tyreen, her tears were the only reason her man quit making fun of what happened to Irma Goizane. 

Peter soon followed suit, after a rumor spread like a wildfire through the cafeteria. Another victim had been found, and this one near Humes Hall.
On
campus. 

The menace had stealthily moved from UT’s off campus housing to the dormitories. I felt an icy shiver as I thought of Armando’s statement that the ‘others’, the more primitive vampires, were tracking my scent. Did it mean that when I passed Humes Hall, on the way to my morning classes the day before, I had left an invisible trail for them to follow?