The Source (3 page)

“Unlike predators
that prey on what some could call dimwitted animals, our prey has one
characteristic that makes hunting extremely difficult…consciousness.”

“We think, therefore
we’re more difficult to eat?” I ask.

Rick laughs loudly,
“In a way, yes.  To meet the challenges of this facet of humanity, nature
endowed us with the ability of suggestion.  But it’s more than what we
normally think of as suggestion.  Do you know what an empath is?”

“Sure,” I respond,
“an empath is a person who constantly feels the emotions, and sometimes
physical states, of the people around them.  It’s like they were born with
a radar that naturally picks up the feelings of the people in the immediate
area.  From what I understand, it’s a condition that can be quite
overwhelming and can actually make a person feel like they’re insane.”

Rick smiles brightly,
“A very good description.  Vampires have been endowed with a specific form
of empathy.  Not only can we feel the emotions of people around us, we get
a sense of what can calm and comfort an individual.  Not only that, we can
project feelings and suggest experiences so that the human is more…vulnerable
and open to our approach.”

I feel myself getting
slightly irritated.  “What you’re saying is that I cannot trust what I
feel when I’m around you because when you’re close, I’m nothing more than your
puppet.”

“If only it were that
easy,” Rick grins deviously.  “Fortunately for humans, vampires also have
consciousness and the all-important free will.  I choose not to employ
these tactics unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“What would you
consider necessary?”

“If I’m personally
threatened.  I feel no remorse in protecting myself.”  Rick laughs
again, “Remorse of the vampire.  An interesting idea that doesn’t quite
gel with the legends of my kind, right?  Those legends are driven by the
vampires that FOHVA has hired us to stop.  Hence part of the reason that I
am here.”

Huh. I wonder if those
vampires also drive the idea that vampires are self-loathing. Maybe that’s why
they turn so violent. Vampire psychology. It shouldn’t be that different from
human psychology, right?

I think about
everything that he has said while chewing on the tip of my pen.  Rick is
watching my reactions very carefully, probably to gauge just how freaked out I
am.  I have to admit that I’m now even more nervous sitting here with him,
but I’m also extremely intrigued at the scientific possibilities of harnessing
the innate abilities of vampires for the betterment of humans.  With this
power of suggestion that he was describing, my mind is running wild with
examples of how it could be used in crisis situations.  I write a few
notes then smile at him awkwardly, “So Sue Ellen is the one who turned you?”

Rick looks down at
the table as his demeanor changes to what I can only think to be sadness.
 He shifts his hands, still looking at the table, “If only it were that
intimate,” he meets my gaze, “but no, Sue Ellen did not turn me.  She
nearly killed me.  Once she had me in that lulling state of vulnerability
which I can only describe as being wrapped in a hundred warm blankets with my
mom caressing my head until I was almost asleep, she struck my neck with all of
the grace and intent of a newly born.  You see, Sue Ellen hadn’t been a
vampire for more than a few weeks and was not exactly skilled at knowing when
to stop.  I had this sense of falling, then it was as if I were sinking
into deep, warm water.  Sort of like floating in the ocean, then slowly
sinking toward the bottom and the darkness that creeps in as you get farther from
the top.  I was encased in blackness and warmth, a rather peaceful feeling
of pure nothingness.  That is the last thing that I actually remember.”

“I know this is going
to sound stupid, but you didn’t see a light like many people who have
near-death experiences?” I ask.

“No, I didn’t, but I
do not think that I got that far into death.  What I mean by that is that
many people mistakenly view death as an event, a natural and often spiritual
action that happens to us.  Death is a process.  There are steps that
one takes on the road to release.  The flame of a person’s spirit doesn’t
just suddenly extinguish.  It gets dimmer, and dimmer, and dimmer, before it
finally goes out. Even with the most abrupt tragedies that cause death, it’s
still a process as the spirit packs its metaphysical bags to go back home.
 It’s the reason why many people see ghosts and apparitions after a body
has shut down.  In those cases, the process hasn’t finished because the
spirit is still clinging to the physical.  It’s also the reason why people
can be ‘brought back to life’ as it were.  The process was never complete
because the spirit was still there.”

“I’m sorry, but
that’s just not logical given that there have been many accounts of people
seeing the ghosts of individuals that have been dead for decades,” I state
matter-of-factly.

“Actually, yes it
does because those spirits just still haven’t let go and are still trying to
cling to the physical world, when many times the body has already been disposed
of, causing the spirit to be sad, confused and sometimes angry. This is
actually the essence of the phrase ‘rest in peace’ because by saying that, we
are actually telling the spirit ‘it’s okay to go ahead and move on.’
 Because if they don’t, there will be no peace for them.”

I take a big breath
hoping that the extra oxygen will clear the smog that had developed in my
cranium.  I close my eyes and count to ten hoping that I won’t sound too
bitchy when I speak again.  I open my eyes, giving Rick my best, fake
smile, pretending that I am enjoying myself.  “I think we’ve gotten off
track here.  The topic is vampires, not ghosts.”

“Riiiggghhhttt.
 The next thing that I remembered after that was Johnny Venture kneeling
beside me on the floor as blood dripped from his wrist to my mouth.  That
was my second lesson in the powers of vampires, the power to create others,
these humanoid creatures, through a type of asexual reproduction. But that’s
not even it.  It’s not reproduction as much as it is invasive
metamorphosis.”

I wonder aloud, “What
is it exactly about vampire blood that can cause this invasive metamorphosis?”
 I begin to frantically write notes.

“I haven’t a clue,”
Rick responds.  “There have been studies to learn more about the
life-giving properties of vampire blood, but nothing conclusive.”

“Hold on,” I
interrupt.  “Life-giving properties?  Isn’t that a little bit of a
misnomer?  Vampires are the undead, no actual life in the sense that we
know it, no beating heart, etc.  I mean, that‘s the basic element that
distinguishes humans from vampires.”

Rick leans back and
crosses his arms.  He looks at me intently while his lips twitch.  He
asks, “Do you really believe that?”

“It’s what I’ve
always been told,” I respond.

“And therefore could
not possibly be incorrect?”

I feel the heat
rising over my neck, crossing my jaws and spreading over my cheeks.  I
stutter, “I-I thought that’s the way it was w-with y-you all.”

Rick raises one eyebrow,
“You all?  There it is.  The until now elusive heart of the matter,
pun completely intended.  Although you have signed up to be part of the
good fight, you have some underlying beliefs regarding ‘my kind’ that
perpetuate your personal behaviors, such as not having any of them as friends. We’re
too different.  You share nothing with us.  We are the other.
 But, don’t worry.  I’m not angry at you.”

His comments
instantly put me on the defensive, “Well, thank God for small favors.
 You’re not angry with me.  I haven’t even done anything.”

“It’s not what you
have done,” Rick states as he nods his head, “It’s what you haven’t done.
 What you haven’t done up until now is ask any questions to confirm that
your assumptions are correct.”  Rick sighs, “But, it’s understandable as
the possibility of being wrong does not often enter one’s mind as it would
cause you to be less self-centered and no one wants that.”

I stare at him for a
few moments silently debating whether or not to ignore his condescension or let
my anger explode all over the table and him.  How dare he?  How did
this conversation get out of control like this?  I went from learning
about vampires to being called a self-centered bigot.  

Not trusting myself
to discuss things further without going all Courtney Love on his ass, I lay my
pen down and say, “I think I need a break.”

I get up from my seat
and slowly walk to the door of the suite, making sure to keep my head held
high.  As I leave, I can’t help but notice the smile on his lips.

Damn those lips.
 It just doesn’t seem right that he’s so hot and pisses me off so much, in
just a short period of time.  Like it matters.  It’s not like I
wanted to date him or anything.  It just sucks when eye candy bites.
 Puns totally intended. Bastard.

I walk aimlessly
around the hallways, as I have absolutely no idea where I was going.  As I
walk, the heavy feeling in my chest begins to drop to my stomach making me feel
rather nauseated.  Maybe if I can find a snack machine or something around
here I could calm myself down.  Food can cure what ails.  I didn’t
get to be this size if I didn’t believe that.  Well, I don’t really
believe it, but I sure as hell practice it.

Everything in this
place is stark white.  As I’m walking through halls with the white walls
and white tiled floors, I get the strange feeling of being trapped in a mental
hospital.  Or maybe that’s just my subconscious trying to tell me
something.

As I round the
corner, my head lowered in contemplation - yeah, that’s it, contemplation - I
am nearly knocked over by someone who is walking with a purpose.  As I
stumble and reach out to grab a hold of anything to keep from falling, I am
absolutely petrified when I realize that I have latched onto the waistband of
the pants being worn by the man who had nearly plowed me over. Thankfully he is
quick enough - not to mention willing and strong enough - to hold onto me and
keep me from sliding onto my rump on the floor.  

As I hold onto him
like my life depended on it, I look up into the face of a relatively attractive
man with long, light brown hair that was pulled back into a ponytail at the
base of his neck.  The best part is that instead of laughing at me, his
face looks genuinely concerned.  

“Are you okay?” he
asks.

“Aside from the
tingling excitement of humiliation, I’m peachy.”  He nobly supports my
robust weight as I struggle to stand straight.  “You would think that
after twenty-seven years I would have learned how to walk without falling.”

He laughs heartily,
his eyes shining with amusement, “It’s totally my fault.  I should have
been watching where I was going.  I’m just so hungry that I was trying to
get to the cafeteria as quickly as possible.  But if I had to run into
someone, thankfully it was someone soft enough that the impact wasn’t too painful.”

What the hell.
 Did he really just say that?  Since he is still holding onto me, I
pull my arms away from him and take two steps back.  My eyes dilate with
shock as my lips slightly part.  I turn away from him and resume my walk
without saying another word.

A heaping plate of
humiliation with a side of degradation.  Not exactly the comfort food I
was after.  Maybe it was a big, whopping mistake taking this research
position.  I officially feel like the universe is kicking me while I’m
down. But evidently the universe is not done with me yet.

“Hey, wait!” I hear
footsteps rushing up behind me.  I choose to ignore them and keep walking.

“What’s wrong?
 I kept you from falling.  I was just trying to be nice.  So why
are you being rude to me now?”

Dead stop.  Rude
to him?  Oh, the gall!  I turn to him with the iciest stare that I
can muster.  I look him straight in the eyes and sneer, “Someone soft
enough that the impact wasn’t too painful?”

He smiles at me
sheepishly, “That’s a GOOD thing.”

I cannot move.
 I cannot talk.  Did I actually fall and hit my head?  I just
stood there, feeling stupid.  How do I respond to that?

He sticks out his
hand, “My name is Tucker Dutrieux.  I’m really sorry that we ran into each
other and I hope that you’re not hurt.  I’m on my way to the cafeteria.
 I can show you where it is if you’re interested.”

I look at his hand,
as I am not completely sure how to respond.  What kind of game is this guy
trying to play?  Sighing deeply, I decide that it didn’t really matter as
long as he led me to food.

I shake his hand,
“I’m Emma Burcham.”  That’s all I can think to say.  He’s already
called me fat, so I didn’t want to confirm his candid observation by saying
“lead me to the food.”  

Tucker looks at me
expectantly as he continues to hold my hand, only slightly shaking it.  An
uncomfortable silence begins to grow.  I withdraw my hand from his.

“The cafeteria is
this way,” he motions down the hall, “If you want to follow along.”