Falls Like Rain

3.1. After Night I Do Crowd

Like a fiend in a cloud,
With howling woe,
After night I do crowd,
And with night will go,
I turn my back to the east,
From whence comforts have increased;
For light doth seize my brain
With frantic pain.
   -Wm. Blake, Poetical Sketches, Mad Song st. 3

The sound of a phone ringing somewhere below had disturbed his slumber. Nick rolled over and, untangling from the sheets, ran a quick fingers through his hair. He just lay there a moment with his eyes closed, trying to come awake and back to himself; the return of awareness was gradual and grudging. Dawn had seen him lethargic and dragging, but the sleep, however dream-filled, had actually been restful. The dreams had served to order his thoughts, clarify his desires and lend meaning to puzzles as yet unsolved.

Ready to face the coming night, Nick opened his eyes. They moved through the spectrum from dusty blue to dazzling gold in rapid succession. The vampire took hold of the hunger, putting it down, and his eyes faded to the color of the sea at dawn once more. Nick had finished the last of the human blood two days earlier. The two glasses he had shared with LaCroix were hardly sustenance enough to maintain the active lifestyle of a homicide detective with a full case load. He certainly didn’t relish the idea of drinking that bovine blood; his recently re-awakened tastes were quite firm on that account. There was no help for it, really. The vampire must feed, and if only cow blood remained - well, so be it. His attitude had always been fatalistic toward feeding: drink to live; die a little each time.

Realizing he had fallen asleep unclothed, Nick reached for and donned a maroon silk robe that he’d abandoned at the edge of the bed. He wrapped the fabric about himself and tied the belt with a firm tug. Giving his hair another quick brush with his fingers, he settled the unruly locks more or less into place. Nick padded barefoot down the metal steps to the loft’s lower level, automatically avoiding the sunlight slanting through the skylight. The loft was empty, yet the feel of it was different, somehow violated; it seemed another vampire had passed through the loft, though Nick didn’t recognize the signature emanations.

Sighing in resignation, Nick put a hand to the handle of the refrigerator. He had denied the new hunger - any hunger at all, actually - for two days, hoping the deep pangs would make the decision easier to bear. Like an ascetic, he craved the clarity of vision such hunger would engender. Although used to depriving himself and to limiting his intake of blood, the vampire needed the liquid protein for strength and stamina. Lethargy such as he had experienced this dawn could yield fatal consequences to his mortal partner, especially if it were to occur on shift.

Steeling himself, Nick opened the refrigerator. He peered inside, unbelieving, agog at the contents. The fridge was fully stocked with slender green bottles with the telltale green labeled that marked “LaCroix’s Special Reserve.” His father was still looking after his health. And still directing my decisions Nick reminded himself grimly. Yet he managed to smile. LaCroix was only showing he cared for his son, even with all the bad blood between them.

Reaching in, Nick pulled out one bottle which caught his eye, then closed the door. A note was tied to the slender neck with red ribbon. He recognized LaCroix’s fine, spidery hand as he set the bottle down on the nearby countertop, and read the small note.

‘The thirsty earth soaks up the rain,
And drinks, and gapes for drink again.
The plants suck in the earth, and are
With constant drinking fresh and fair.
Fill all the glasses there, for why
Should every creature drink but I,
Why, man of morals, tell me why?’

Yes, it did indeed seem that LaCroix had not quite finished with his wayward son. Nick dropped the note on the dining table, more amused than annoyed by the overt manipulation.

Taking the bottle in one hand and a wine goblet in the other, Nick pulled the cork out with his teeth and poured himself a full glass. As soon as the stopper was free of the neck, the scent of ripe peaches and warm vanilla filled the hungry vampire’s nostrils. He breathed in the fruity bouquet, once again lost in the delicious aroma of a just-baked peach cobbler. The cork dropped from a mouth gone slack with desire. He took a deep, satisfying draught of the bloodwine, eyes squeezed closed in pleasure; wild abstract shapes and swirls of brilliant color exploded onto his mind’s eye. Each color evoked a different emotion; each shape represented a new wave of thought.

The first glass was swallowed down in haste and another followed it just as swiftly. Heat and strength surged through starved veins and strained muscles. After pulling one last sip directly from the bottle, Nick reluctantly recorked it and replaced it in the refrigerator. He rinsed out the glass and set it aside to dry.

Hours to go before his shift was due to begin, Nick sat at his PC to catch up on some correspondence and to clear up a few errant expenses. He had received an email from Lily Toffler and her family in Germany, to which he had to reply. As he was waiting for the machine to boot up, Nick grabbed the remote and pressed several buttons in rapid succession. The shutters rolled upward, the early afternoon sun spilling pools of yellow light across the otherwise gray floor. The stereo came to life and the last CD in the changer began to spin; applause sounded as the 3 Tenors started to sing. The answering machine rewound and beeped, and a new message played out. Nick recognized his partner’s voice: “Hey, Nick! Sorry we missed each other last night. I hear a rousing good time was had by all - doing the paperwork shuffle.” She smothered a giggle. “Maybe you’ll appreciate the tedious boredom I save you from each and every case.” Tracy paused, then added in a more serious tone, “I’m glad you’re feeling better, partner. I’ll see ya later. Okay? Bye for now.” Nick had to smile at her exuberance. How he had gotten saddled with such an opposite was quite a story, one still too painful on which to reflect.

The PC booted and the desktop came to full color. The haunted mansion wallpaper and icons had made Natalie laugh when she first saw his choice of theme. Natalie. She laughed so infrequently, and he realized - in his moments of honest introspection - that he was mostly to blame. He shook his head and sighed; he’d been doing a lot of that lately. Eight hundred years had taught him much about women, but understanding the doctor was beyond even his experience. Nick tucked Natalie back into the corner of his heart and mind where he kept all such unrealized dreams, before going on with his tasks.

The vampire had fully embraced the age of technology, though at times he did question his decision. Tonight wasn’t such a moment, as modern technology made one’s chores so much more convenient, especially for a vampire confined during the world’s normal business hours. Bringing up his ISP software, Nick logged onto the ’net and retrieved his mail. Nothing new caught his eye, so he went ahead and composed a short but warm response to Lily. As technology advanced, communication between old friends became easier, no matter how many miles or how many years separated one from the other. Yet at the same time, concealing the vampire, and the lifestyle the curse made necessary, turned more difficult; moving on was problematic at best in these days of the Global Village. Banking was the next task; Nick brought up his accounts and set about transferring some funds electronically. There had been a recent dig in the Russian steppes, and the archeologist in him couldn’t resist buying a piece or two of ancient culture. To fund further expeditions, the Ukranian Institute of Archeology had quietly auctioned off several minor pieces of Scythian jewelry, statuary and golden adornments. Rich, avid collectors could always find the artifacts necessary to complete their private exhibits if they were willing to pay the price. Nick had been lucky enough to purchase a shield ornament depicting two warriors swearing lifelong allegiance with a cup of bloodwine, and a beautiful comb, 24 centuries old, detailing a clash between rival factions. The Scythians, as Nick had read in National Geographic, were a nomadic warrior peoples who occupied and conquered the Russian steppes nearly eight centuries before LaCroix was even born. The color pictorial in the Society magazine had enticed Nick to purchase the relics. Nick transferred the funds to the auction house, completing the sale; the precious cargo would arrive by private courier within the week.

Nick passed the time until sunset on the World Wide Web, keeping abreast of the latest digs in other parts of the globe. He remembered those nights teaching at the University of Chicago with great fondness, and deep sadness as well, as the McCarthy era had forced him to abandon that life and start anew. Sometime during his session, he had retrieved the half-full bottle of peach-flavored blood, unable to resist its call. When he glanced up from the monitor several hours later, the bottle sat empty at his elbow, a mute testament to his hunger. The sky had darkened more than could be accounted for by the hour, and clouds had moved in overhead; it seemed a storm was imminent. A flash of not-so-distant lightning confirmed his forecast. With the cloud cover came a promise of an early start to his shift. The long summer days were so frustrating; he felt isolated and trapped sometimes. He shut down the PC as another crackling flash bathed the loft in radiant light. The rumble of thunder followed close behind; the storm was right on top of the city.

Testing his strength, Nick flew to the top level of the loft with ease and walked the painting-lined hallway to his bedroom. He dressed quickly, though with his usual care. A black and gray patterned silk shirt was matched with black trousers and oxfords. He smoothed his hair back with two rapid passes of a comb, then gave a self-satisfied nod in the mirror. Taking the steps two at a time, he descended to the lower level of the loft once more. The detective retrieved his holster, checked his weapon and slipped into the well-worn leather harness. A charcoal gray blazer completed his outfit. He settled it over his gun with a practiced shrug, grabbed his car keys and headed down to the garage.

Nick was unprepared for the sight that met his eyes. Curled onto the front seat, much like a kitten, slept a young vampire. Nick had, perhaps, found the method of delivery for LaCroix’s generous gifts. The elder vampire reached down and laid a gentle hand on the young woman’s shoulder. She blinked awake, dazzling green eyes looking up at the handsome blond. She gave a toss of her sunset-red hair and smiled as she unfolded from the seat. Nick was captivated by her piquant charm and petite beauty. He returned her smile with one of his own, unable to resist. Reaching out, he traced the quite incongruous freckles which were splattered across her nose and cheeks. It seemed she was very new indeed, for a slight blush tinted her face pink; her skin was warm beneath his fingertips. Nick was so taken by the fetching child that for a moment he couldn’t find his voice.

“Hello, young one. My thanks for the delivery service.”

“Hello, Nicholas,” she responded in a clear tone, with just a touch of an American Midwestern accent. “It was my pleasure, really. A girl doesn’t get to meet a living legend every day.”

Nick raised an eyebrow, clearly bemused at her choice of adjective. “Well, it’s not every day I’m called a living legend. I feel rather old.” She laid a hand on his arm contritely, but Nick smiled and laughed. “No need to apologize - um, what may I call you?”

“My friends call me Red,” she replied.

He fingered the soft curls which reached to her shoulder. “I can see why. What need is there for sun when we can behold the fire captured by such bounty?” Their eyes caught, two different colors of the sea, but Red broke her gaze away, more than a bit self-conscious.

“I should be going. I’ll make you late for work,” she said awkwardly.

“Let me give you a ride,” Nick offered smoothly, trying to overcome her sudden shyness. “It’s a terrible afternoon for flying.”

Red glanced past him, out the small windows in the garage door, as he raised the top on the Caddy. “Hmm, rain,” she observed. “I accept your kind offer. You are indeed a gallant knight.”

The elder vampire bowed his head and said with mock seriousness, “At your service, milady. Your carriage awaits.”

Nick drove Red over to the Raven. They had an interesting conversation along the way, mostly regarding her brief history as a vampire. Brianna had found her homeless, and taking Janette’s example, gave the lost young woman shelter, then brought her across just shy of a year ago. Nick mentally sighed at yet another story of misspent youth and a radical decision meant to bring peace and safety.

Nick pulled to a stop at the curb in front of the club a short time later. Red swung open the large front door of the Caddy, climbed out, then smoothed down her forest-green mini-skirt. As she was walking away, she glanced back over her shoulder, heedless of the light rain, and gave her knight a rather insouciant wink and flashed another brilliant smile. Nick waited until she was safely behind closed doors before driving off, a grin gracing his own lips.

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