Memoirs of a Vampire: Undying Love

By J. M. Allison

I’d spent centuries avoiding typical societal celebrations of love. If experience was any indication, this Valentine’s night was shaping up to be as dull and tedious as every other.

A sudden movement caught my eye. A woman ran for the alley, her hair streaming behind her like golden ribbons. She ducked around the corner and pressed into the shadows.

I leaned over the roof’s edge, hoping to spot the cause of the woman’s flight.  The streets were quiet except for a single flickering streetlight.

I considered the woman again. At times, being a vampire was helpful. I couldn’t deny I enjoyed having such excellent night vision.

Her black jacket, sleeves pushed up, and fitted pants gave her an edgy look, but the expensive blouse and tall boots suggested sophistication. Her poise and elegance, despite possible danger, reminded me of the old nobility I had once belonged among. Several lifetimes as an aristocrat and some habits never went out of style.

I stepped off the roof and landed silently in the shadows at the back of the alley. Her attention was still on the street beyond. After evaluating my options, I decided on the direct approach.

“Might I offer any assistance?” I kept my voice calm and smooth, hoping my vampire allure would set the woman at ease. It wouldn’t do to frighten her further.

Her head snapped in my direction. Her eyes widened and her lips parted. She pressed back against the wall as I took a step toward her.

Relax. I impressed upon her subconscious as I spread my hands in front of me, a feeble attempt to show I wasn’t a threat.

“I don’t need any assistance,” she snapped, “especially from a vampire!”

I raised an eyebrow. Few people acknowledged the existence of vampires. Even fewer could identify one or resist vampiric mental suggestions.

“Then”—I dared another step forward, maintaining eye contact and keeping my voice soft—“might I inquire why you raced into an alley for no apparent reason?”

Her fingers traced the edge of a scar on her exposed wrist and forearm.

“I was looking for something.”

“What would a beautiful woman like you seek to find in an alley?” I stepped closer. The warmth and smell of her blood called to me. It would be all too easy, but years of discipline would not be broken by an impulse of the flesh. Besides, it showed bad form to take a woman for dinner without first knowing her name.

I inched closer, bringing myself within an arm’s reach. I kept my eyes locked with hers—a swirling storm of gray with hints of silver in the iris. I couldn’t look away.

Wham!

Her heeled boot slammed against my head, and I tumbled to the ground. Stars danced in and out of my vision. It was difficult to surprise a vampire, yet this woman had succeeded. An intriguing and welcome change.

“I was looking for a monster, and I think I found one.” She pulled a stake from behind her back and lunged.

I rolled away and sprang to my feet. She struck with snakelike speed. I sidestepped, and her stake slashed across my arm. I hissed in pain and irritation, my fangs on full display.

A faint smile played at her lips. She attacked again. I blocked and spun out of her reach.

“I take it you fancy yourself a monster slayer.” I circled, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

“I do my best to rid the world of vile creatures.”

“Vile though some vampires may be”—I bowed my head slightly in her direction—“you hardly know me. Please don’t presume to lump all vampires in the same category on reputation alone.”

She lunged again. This time, I was prepared.

I grabbed her wrist and twisted, wrenching the stake from her fingers and spinning her. She lurched as she lost her footing. Instinctively, I reached to catch her, my arms contracting around her, as her neck sliced across the jagged edge of a dumpster. She gasped, her eyes widening in shock. Warm liquid poured from her wound down onto my hand.

“Apologies, my dear,” I whispered as she slumped against me. I attempted to stanch the bleeding with one hand. “I do so despise the loss of anything unique and beautiful. And you most definitely qualify as both.”

“It’s not often I fail to eliminate my prey,” she confessed. Her voice was steady, and her eyes held mine without fear. “Who are you?”

“Jean-Luc Beaufoy at your service, Miss…”

“Marguerite. Marguerite Ambroise.”

I smiled. Her name meant Pearl Immortal. A fitting name. Beauty and dignity wrought from irritation and pain, if her scar was any indication. No doubt her history echoed hallmarks of many an immortal tale. Tragic that she should meet her end in a dirty alley.

“I’ll take you to the hospital if you wish, Miss Ambroise.”

A bark of laughter escaped her lips, followed by a wince.

“No. We will meet again, Jean-Luc. And I will not lose next time.” She shuddered and then went limp in my arms. The quiet patter of her heart sputtered and went silent.

I laid her carefully against the wall and murmured a prayer in Latin from an almost forgotten life. I was no stranger to death. In many regards, it was a necessary aspect of my continued existence. But I regretted hers.

I slunk back toward the shadows. She deserved so much better. I turned to pay my last respects to a worthy opponent and a beautiful woman. Her body was gone. The alley was empty. I searched the shadows seeking answers.

The blood on the ground and on my hands was the only remaining evidence of our encounter.

Perhaps Marguerite Ambroise was indeed as rare as her name suggested. Her promise echoed in my mind bringing a smile.

“We will meet again.”

Something told me the interim could be a moment or a lifetime, but the anticipation brought a new light to my existence.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

J. M. Allison, more commonly addressed as Lisa, or Mommommommom, grew up captivated by the magic and wonder of fairy tales. She finds daily adventure in raising four small humans, teaching musical theatre and dance, sewing, drawing, cosplaying, writing, and reading. Stories can communicate so many things, and she hopes her stories will inspire others to courageously live their own adventures or at least bring a little happiness into their humdrum lives.

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