The Lost Souls Dating Agency (5 page)

As he said this he looked more like the young boy he probably was. ‘I sometimes feel as if I am the only particular type of my kind. I have had my share of blood and gore,' his eyes were distant, ‘and other more horrible things. I have chosen to renounce that part of my personality. I now seek human companionship.' He stopped. I waited for him to continue but he didn't.

‘How can I be sure you're not using my agency to just find someone to,' I paused then came right out with it, ‘well quite frankly, to devour?'

He did not hesitate in his reply. ‘Modern vampires have devised multiple ways to control their urges.' Victor's violet eyes turned darker. ‘Technology and artificial blood inventions have helped. My preferred method is blood transfusions. I receive them every other day or when I feel particularly thirsty.'

I wonder where he gets the stock for his own personal blood bank? I thought it best not to ask.

‘Okay, I'm not here to pass judgement on your habits,' I said instead.

‘Good, because that's not why I am here,' he replied coldly.

I sensed his increasing aloofness and my business acumen automatically kicked in. ‘Well, Victor, the good news is I've decided to take on your case. I'll help you find,' I searched for the right terminology, ‘a mate.'

‘A wife,' he corrected me.

How old fashioned of him! I told him so and added, ‘Though I suppose in India, where I come from, that's what agencies like mine do, arrange marriages!'

‘Well then I like where you come from, Ms Gooptah.' He added casually, ‘In fact I am quite partial to women from the colony.'

The
colony
? I shot him my best withering look. ‘Listen, Victor, if you want me to help you, you have to promise me one thing.'

‘What is it?' he asked with arched eyebrow.

There were so many things to say, where to start? ‘That you learn how to pronounce my name correctly,' was all I managed.

Over the next few days Victor gave me glimpses into his past. His full name was Victor Wareham, turned sometime in the twelfth century, near Dorset in England. At the end I sat down and re-read the (badly scribbled) notes I had made. I really needed to learn shorthand or something.

V. W. — twelve years old, fell from a tree, badly injured spine. Did not lose the use of his legs completely, pronounced limp and used makeshift cane — miserable, bitter wretch about disability!
(His words not mine)
. Six years pass, rich landowning family moves into village. Mysterious disappearances started to occur…turns out family a coven of vampires, feeding from area to area, living in one village, then moving to another when suspicions are aroused about M.D. At first villagers (and V.W.) suspected nothing. But soon there are mumblings. Two years later, V.W. limping home when he is attacked — unable to run…

My handwriting trailed off the page after that. I remember being so engrossed in what Victor had to say that I must have forgotten to take notes. I saw his usually expressionless face burn with his memories. He told me that the vampire that attacked him did not finish him. Instead he injected his poison. After his turning, the coven asked Victor to join them, but arrogant and uplifted by the freedom of his new strength (no surprises there), he refused. I had asked him about what happened next, but he was deliberately sketchy about the rest. He feigned forgetfulness about his early vampiric life. But weren't vampires supposed to have eternal memories?

My very first client had given me much to think about. I was unsure whether to involve Megan and Neha in his case. After much self wrestling I decided, for the time being, that it was best to keep quiet.

I concentrated on developing a professional code, number one on which was complete privacy for my clients. Other codes for my agency included,
background checks on potential partners, do nothing illegal, put everything in writing, and TRY and stay alive!

This last point I underlined twice.

My brain ticked over wondering about a payment plan. How much to charge? I felt a bit of a bloodsucker myself when I thought about the money. Asking a vampire to pay for my services in finding a human mate seemed bloodsuckerish. I tried to distract myself with thoughts of Sookie Stackhouse. She was human (sort of) and she managed not one, but a few vamps…this was where my logic failed me and I tried not to dwell on it. In any case, I may not have a service to offer at all if I didn't come up with a plan. There was nothing to worry about. Yet.

I decided to work on a shortlist of women first. But, what type of woman was Victor interested in? Did vampires have preferences? I rang him.

‘Victor, do you have a preference for the way your potential partner should look?' No harm in getting straight to the point.

‘I have no preference.'

‘Right, so nothing like tall, fair and lovely?'

‘I would prefer a pulse,' Victor said somewhat sardonically.

I ignored this. ‘Well okay. I just wanted to make sure I shortlist the right type of woman. You know, physically.'

There was silence on the phone, had I offended him?

‘I have a few ideas about short listing women for you,' I persisted. ‘I thought I'd check if you wanted me to select them according to their looks.'

‘Physical attributes are transient, Shaleenee. I hope you will look beyond that for a suitable candidate.'

‘Good.' I grinned. This attitude was going to make things a whole lot easier. ‘I'll be in touch when I have a few leads. Bye!'

***

The next day, I woke early, gulped down some cheese on toast and a cup of tea, and walked to my tutorial class. It was the first week of the first semester back at uni and study was the last thing on my mind. I'm sure my brain processed no useful information that day. I was so distracted by thoughts of my case. I also made a concerted effort to try not to run into Megan or Neha. I wasn't ready to talk to them.

I hurried home after class and looked through my notes titled “plans”. So plan A involved going to a public place, a mall or shopping area, and presenting potential women with a questionnaire, say for market research for a new internet dating site. But really it would be designed to help me measure their vampire-tolerance quotient. I'm so proud of my fabricated technical term! Anyway, if I found someone suitable, I would ask if they were willing to go on a blind date. I obviously wouldn't tell them it was a date with a vampire.

A wave of guilt hit me. Was this the right thing to do? If only there was an ethical standards guide for supernatural matchmaking. This whole scheme seemed terribly patchy and somewhat dangerous for the women I was involving. I wished I had a more sensible plan B. But there was no plan B. I pushed away the issues gnawing at me. They could wait, at least until I found a woman to worry about, if at all.

***

Two days later, armed with a clipboard, I headed for the main shopping strip in the city, Bourke Street. The pedestrian mall pulsed with activity. I dodged trams that ran in the thoroughfare between shops, as I posed my questionnaire to women.

It was a complete waste of time. I spent days on Bourke Street, walking up to women, asking if they were willing to participate in a dating website survey. Most of them snubbed me. The ones who didn't seemed lukewarm, if not downright weird. In the end I found myself robotically asking questions.

‘What are the characteristics of your ideal date?'

‘What is your favourite thing to do on a date?'

‘What quality do you find most attractive in a date?'

My methods failed miserably. I needed a fresh approach which was…I drew a giant blank. I started to feel like a deflated balloon.

At the end of a frustrating week, I knew it was time to do something more than mope. I looked guiltily at the gym pass attached to my keys. Maybe it was time for some exercise. The endorphin hit would do me good. I changed into a cotton T-shirt and running shorts and walked to the gym not far from home. I liked its small community feel, more than other massive warehouses of equipment, hamster wheels and buffed muscles.

An hour later, sweat was pouring out of me when I finished my treadmill run. I was cooling down and stretching when I heard, ‘Hey, Shalini, I haven't seen you here for a while!' My sometimes gym buddy Fiona was smiling at me.

I grinned back. ‘Hey, it's great to see you!'

‘Where have you been?' she asked.

‘Oh I've been a little caught up with work. It's been super busy,' I lied.

‘Oh that's too bad,' Fiona said sympathetically.

We talked for a while which continued with a post-workout tea. I was glad to discuss things other than the agency. As I sipped my tea and chatted with Fiona, I realised I quite liked the quiet, good-natured Fiona.

‘I've decided to volunteer at the community centre and I love it! It's so nice not to have my head buried in books about medieval tapestries,' Fiona joked.

My ears pricked immediately. ‘Medieval tapestries?'

‘Oh I'm a research assistant for Professor McPherson, a historian at Victoria University. Haven't I told you about that? I bore everyone else to death about it all the time.' She smiled.

‘No, I'm really interested.' In more ways than one. ‘So do you specialise in tapestries?'

‘Well that's one part of it. My specialisation is late middle ages England, you know before the Elizabethan age,' Fiona said earnestly. ‘My favourite era is the Plantagenet…' Fiona stopped and looked embarrassed. ‘Let me know if I'm boring you.'

‘No, please continue!' I hoped I didn't sound too enthusiastic.

Fiona prattled on about England in the middle ages for a while. What luck! Things were looking up for Victor. It was as if the gym heavens opened their sweaty orifices and Fiona had come shining through.

‘Have you lost your mind? I can't be seen in a public gymnasium.' Victor was furious the next day when I divulged my plans about meeting Fiona.

‘Why not? It's a great idea!'

‘Have you forgotten how I threw you in the air when we met?'

‘No, I haven't.' The moment was etched in stone.

‘Well don't you think my superhuman strength will be a little suspicious?' Victor asked cynically.

‘I'm not asking you to do five hundred push-ups while lifting a hundred and fifty kilos with your pinkie finger. Just control your strength. All you have to do is look the part. Wear some gym shorts or something.' I waved my hands in the general direction of his legs.

Victor stared mutely. I knew he didn't see the humour in the situation. Did he even know where to buy gym shorts?

‘Look, there's a lady that goes to this gym and she is lovely. I think you'll really like her. This will be the perfect way for introductions.' I felt my voice rise to a whining pitch.

‘Will I find her lovely?' Victor asked with eyes narrowing.

‘Do you trust me?' I was starting to get annoyed.

‘Not especially.' Victor was unhesitant.

‘Well then you shouldn't have hired me,' I sulked. ‘All I'm trying to do is my job.'

Victor was silent.

I glared at him. Vampire men were as exasperatingly stubborn as human men. ‘Look, I know this sounds a little,' I searched for the right word, ‘unusual, but I can't ask her if she is interested in dating a vampire, okay?'

Victor nodded.

‘So my plan is for you to join this gym, get to know her and see if you like her and then take it from there.'

Victor looked unconvinced. ‘Why does it have to be at a gym? What does one do there exactly?' he said the words with a decided frown.

‘Not everyone can have a perfect physique like you, oh great one.' I giggled. ‘We mere mortals have to sweat it out on cardio machines and dumbbell weights. Listen, I know you will like her. Trust me.'

‘Will you be there with me?' Victor asked rather pitifully.

‘I can be around sometimes, just to check up on you.'

‘Alright, I'll try anything once.' Victor grimaced.

Mental high-five! Now that he was semi-convinced, it was time to convince him about the gym gear he needed.

***

The next evening, I had a hard time suppressing a chuckle when I walked into my gym and saw a very uncomfortable looking Victor. He was wearing long grey sweat pants and running shoes that looked brand new. This was the first time I had ever seen him in anything other than a suit. His broad shoulders were encased in a baggy T-shirt with “The Horrors” printed across his chest in gothic font. Did he know the band? He probably just bought it for the irony. Even in his baggy clothes, he looked acutely attractive. His dark hair was slicked across his forehead and he was sitting on the floor trying to do a very bad imitation of a sit-up. I pursed my lips as they slid upwards. Victor looked at me with unease and I knew this was possibly his first and last visit to a gym. It was crucial to get this meeting right the first time.

I scanned the gym and spotted Fiona in the cardio area upstairs, pumping away on the cross trainer. She always had a pretty smile on her face, even when she turned beetroot red from effort. She was pleasantly plump and in the months I had seen Fiona at the gym, her curviness had not lessened. I hated women who looked like they were on anabolic steroids, or worse, stick figures I wanted to throw a chocolate bar at.

I walked up the stairs and smiled at Fiona. ‘Hi there.' I tried to sound as casual as I could.

‘Oh hi, Sha-li-ni,' Fiona answered a little breathlessly. She was doing interval training and it looked like she was on her exertion interval.

I jumped on the cross trainer next to Fiona and started warming up. My eyes searched for Victor in the weights area. He looked completely bored. Okay, time to activate “The Plan”.

In five minutes Victor headed upstairs, just as Fiona was cooling down. Her face was now a lesser shade of red. As he reached her Victor stared, but Fiona seemed not to notice.