Sometimes I wonder how I ended up a mother so young; not that the orphanage children are mine, but that's how we see each other, mother and kids, so I guess it's just as well. It's kind of hard to be the responsible one all the time, telling everyone what's best for them and trying to be everywhere at once, helping all the children who need me.
I wake up every morning at 5:00am. I need to shower and dress, get breakfast started, straighten up the downstairs, and make lunch for the school kids. Then comes the first round of waking up, usually the older ones who need to get up, and the little ones who're hungry. The in-betweeners get up in time for the morning kiddie shows. Mornings are the hardest; Josie, Eternus, Bastian, and Zane are asleep, Alicia isn't in until 9:00, and Brian and Evan don't come until 2:30 when the high school lets out.
The day is a cycle of minor disasters, and there's a lot of work to do before nightfall, but I always look forward to the hour that the sun slips away. Then, they rise. Josie and Bastian from the basement, Zane usually stops by, though now he's in Italy, and Eternus, well, we didn't see Eternus that much, and since she 'went to sleep', Josie gets all sorts of upset when I talk about her. After dinner and homework is done, teeth are brushed and little hands washed, stories read and tuck-ins completed, then, the night begins.
Most nights I'd just fall asleep on the couch, listening to Josie sing in the other room. When there's a gathering, we have to go, no choice. Bastian usually has somewhere to be, so he gets out of it. These last few evenings, however, it's been me that's going out.
Three nights in a row, I've ridden the R3 along its line to the terminus at Media, and I will tonight, too. There was only music on; Josie was curled up on the couch with her head in Bastian's lap as he sang along with the CD. Thus far, she hasn't asked me where I go at night, and didn't again. I didn't even say a word to them, how could I? These nights, I can't even stand to look at the two, the pain dampers the music and my chest constricts until I can't breathe. Look away.
Cold on the walk to the station, and only the song for my company. The darkness is beautiful, and though I'd miss the sun, it's true, I'd learn how to get by. The song swells as I remember.
"Why should I be polite to her, Vincent? She's just a mortal, she's below us."
Look down, look down, upon your fellow man...Alyssa always seems to have such an attitude. Is that true? I see how other Kindred treat their ghouls, I guess I'm lucky that I've got Josie. Then again, what would it be like to be a vampire? My eye still throbbed. If I were, those punks who beat us up would be real sorry by now, and no one would be able to attack me for my blood anymore; I'd stop being a victim. If I were, then perhaps I could find Jonathan, and I'd be more then just another mortal to him. I'd never be tired anymore, and I'd live forever.
There's sorrow everywhere here. That Italian guy is still lying unconscious on the couch, and people are still randomly freaking out. Upstairs Josie and Dylan are shouting, and there's no warmth of freedom to be had. If I were a vampire, I could help fix this city. Now I'm alone with the music, and I think I know how to become a Kindred. The pain was a lot at first, but more than that was the pressure of all of the blood coming out. I crossed my arms and hid them under a pillow sitting on the couch.
The song's getting weaker, what's wrong? Am I singing out loud? Where's Josie? Rocky, he'll find her for me. No, Rocky, come back, you don't understand, just tell her I'm here and I need her help. Who is that there? I can't keep my eyes open. Vincent, the Ventrue? Where's my music? It's leaving me. Oh God, dying hurts so much. Josie? You're shouting, you sound so upset, what's wrong? Sing with me, my song's almost gone.
But then, a growing clarity; I could taste her life-force in my mouth, and the light returned all around me. The waves of dizziness were taking their toll, making my head light, but at least I could understand what was going on now. Vincent was sitting next to me, his hand on my shoulder, I was still kind of slumped over on the blood-soaked couch, and Josie was kneeling on the floor beside me. I think there were others in the room, but they soon left, seeing that it wasn't a fight.
"Don't scare me like that! Why did you try to kill yourself?!?"
"I wanted to let my blood run out so I'd be a vampire." Why did that sound like such a stupid idea now that I said it out loud?
"You don't want to be a vampire! If you ever do that again, I'll kill you myself!" The vehemence of her tone scared me, and I reflexively curled up against Vincent.
"Hey now, don't yell at her," he said gently.
Josie, had she been mortal, would have sighed. "Nancy, I'm sorry. They want to kick Dylan out of the city, and now you almost die. You're so lucky to still be human; you can go out in the warm sun, watch flowers bloom in the morning, do so many things that we can't. We can't even feel emotions anymore like you can."
For that, I had no response. I'd just lived up to the stereotype of everyone's ghoul; always getting themselves in trouble by being idiots, then pulling their masters away from important matters to save them. Before Josie 'went to college', she acted so young, and now it seemed to me that our roles have reversed. Was it not earlier that she told Hamlet that I was her adopted daughter? Yet I still wondered, what was it like to be undead?
The night-conductor wasn't surprised to see me, nor did he say anything as he punched the ticket I'd bought while on my grocery errands that morning; Swarthmore to Market Street Station, back down the line to the terminus at Media/Elywn, back to the Swarthmore Station on the late-run before the trains started up again at 5:00am. Not many others were riding, just a college student, buried in flannels, on his way to the city, and a mother dragging two children to a relatives' house further down the line. Just us night-living riding the rails into the darkness. The rhythm of the tracks was so soothing, and the song lulled me to sleep.
The comforting thing about being semi-conscious in a car, bus, or train is that the motion is a constant, and the dizziness that comes with being between sleep and waking seems like a release in the warm haze. When the train stop hard, though, you have no choice but to wake up. We'd stopped at the dingy 30th Street Station, and the place was dirty, dark, and cold. Now, I was the only one in the car, for even the conductor had settled for a stance in the first two, leaving me on my own.
As we roared along the line, the light over the back half of the car flickered and shorted. I sat in shadow, and would've been alone save for the scent; smoke and cloth. My stomach shot through with tingling ice, but I didn't betray what I guessed. With every moment in the silence, the melody grew louder, waiting for the harmony.
"It's quite late for you to be out unescorted," he whispered in my ear from the seat behind me.
That voice, Jonathan. It was the voice I'd been playing over and over in my head for the last week. Slowly, as if doing so would make him disappear, I turned my head, and looked into the darkness. Again, he was hidden save for those eyes and the strong line of his jaw. Then, he was suddenly beside me, one hand resting on his ornamental cane, the other one hidden in the shadow that also seemed to hide most of him. All I remember was the darkness and intoxicating scent of him.
"I really must apologize for my associates and their actions a few nights past. They're still a bit...rough around the edges," he reached up and stroked my cheek where the bruise had almost faded away. "That's no way to treat a woman," he nearly purred. I could get lost in his voice for hours if I let myself. "I do hope your master didn't blame you for it."
"W-who, Josie? I told her I got beat up by a street gang." Why did I feel the need for him to think that I protected him?
"Even so, the Prince would probably not be pleased to learn that there were trespassers in his domain. I shudder to think that I may have caused him offence."
"Oh, don't worry, we never even see the Prince. I don't think anyone I know has talked to him or even seen him. It's been like this ever since Mr. Blair left six months ago." Jonathan was watching me so intently, and it dawned on me that I probably shouldn't be telling other vampires what went on in our city, but then, he was all sorts of polite, and didn't look like one of the bad ones. I trusted him.
"Hmm, that's nearly the situation in my city as well. Quite common these days, or so I hear. At least there are strong and powerful clan leaders from whence I come, perhaps it is the same for your city?"
"Well, you might say that, I guess." I hesitated, not knowing much about the structure of Kindred politics.
"Whatever do you mean?"
"See, I don't understand a lot of all this stuff, but I heard Bastian say that with all this pointless posturing for power, the city's being over-run with foolish neonates while the elders either fight each other or leave," I shrugged, "But that might not even have been what he meant." Now why did I suddenly feel like I was giving Bastian out?
I felt and heard, rather than saw, his smile. "On the contrary, I believe you have an excellent grasp of what's going on around you. Come, it's our stop," and he gracefully rose, then held out his hand and helped me up. Through the mists of happiness for being in his presence, I recognized the Media Station as we stepped down off the platform.
A hint of danger, but at the time, I paid it no mind. Josie and Eve had told me that these days, no one should be in Media by night, but I was with Jonathan, and no matter what there was here, he could protect me from it. So we walked, somehow keeping perfect beat with the song that ebbed and flowed through me as he held my arm in his. Then, still talking about our respective cities, we turned down a wooded path between a park and a vacant lot.
Jonathan stopped, turned, and suddenly kissed me full and hard, slowly moving down until I felt the rush rip through me as his fangs met my neck. The music flared, growing ever stronger as I grew ever weaker, blinding all my senses with it's sound, until the pleasure of white oblivion as all I could feel, and all that I remember knowing.
The light of the estacy eventually became sharper and harder, turning into the light overhead. Everything hurt, mostly my left arm. People were talking around me, asking me my name, did I know where I was, what's the day, who's the president? Nancy Al Coda, I think the emergency room, probably early Wednesday, Bill Clinton, unless he was impeached while I was out. Now they tell me to lie still, just rest.
I opened my eyes to find myself in one of the exam rooms in the ER, probably Crozer-Chester. It hurt too much to move, so I just watched people pass by. About five minutes later, Josie rushed into the room. I could only look up at my master while the doctor talked at her.
"...and the EMS guys found her unconscious in the courtyard of Rosetree Park. A man walking his dog saw her and made the 911 call. You're lucky she got here when she did, that gash on her arm went to the bone, but she'd lost an amazing amount of blood for a wound that size. Nancy, you said her name was? Well, she almost didn't make it. We'll have to keep her for observation for a day or so...huh, really? Well, I really must insist that she stay, she could still die if she's not careful. Oh, Scientoligists, huh? I'll get the discharge papers, we don't want a lawsuit or anything..."
The doctor left, and an RN put the stitches in my arm while another one fetched my ruined flannel shirt and jacket. From what they were saying, it was the emergency card in my pocket that gave them Josie's number, and probably saved my life. She herself sat there during all this, her hand on my right arm when it tensed from the pain of the sutures. More than that, though was her silence, and the lack of emotion in her eyes, and I was sure that she was furious with me for letting this happen.
After the doctor brought the discharge papers, he told me to return in eight to ten days to have the stitches out. Josie met my eyes and conveyed what we both were thinking..no need, we'll heal this up when we get home. As we walked out, I got dizzy and almost fell a few times, but Josie caught me and helped me along, still silent. We both knew that the gash was not how I lost that blood, but she was tactfull enough not to say anything.
Outside, Dylan was waiting in the car. We stopped a few feet away from it, and I was so sure that she was going to yell at me for getting in trouble, or not having the sense to stay away from that vampire. Instead, she hugged me, and I realized how worried she must have been on the way over.
"In my life, almost everyone I've loved or cared about has left me. Please don't you leave, at least, not like this."
Curled up, woozy, in the back seat, I watched late-night Swarthmore. The song sang low, and I felt guilty for making my master and friend so worried, and so foolish for what I'd done. Still, his voice was in my mind, and a part of me was already putting aside money for tomorrow night's ticket.