“Good thing you’re not, I suppose. I would’ve had a hard time explaining to Nathan’s mom why you suddenly just burst into flames today.”
David laughed. “Yes, I imagine you would.”
“So, is that why you smiled like that—when we walked into the church?”
“It was. The whole demon thing’s kind of a private joke among my kind.”
“Why? Is there some truth to the myth?”
“None whatsoever.”
“But, then…why do people think holy water can burn you and stuff?”
“Rumours.”
“Rumours?”
“Yes. Powerful things, those gossip circles.” He grinned mischievously. “The whole story started out, originally, when a vampire was found sleeping in his bed. The townspeople believed the man to be dead.” David tapped his chest. “No heartbeat, you see. So, they buried him—alive, and when he finally woke and dug his way out of the grave, he retaliated with murder.”
“Retaliated? But, they didn’t know he was alive, did they? It wasn’t deliberate, right?”
“No.”
“Then why did he want revenge?”
“Same reason any claustrophobic, which woke to find themselves buried alive, would.”
“Claustrophobic?” I touched my neck. “How can a vampire be claustrophobic?”
David laughed. “We carry over many human traits when we change. We can be moody, thoughtful, arachnophobic, afraid of heights—many things. We’re still mostly human in so many ways.”
“And this guy was afraid of enclosed spaces?”
“Right. And even if he wasn’t, imagine, for a second, being trapped in darkness, compounded by a force you cannot see—not knowing which way is up or down.” He studied me thoughtfully. “I told you a vampire’s emotions are stronger?”
“Yeah.”
“This claustrophobic vampire woke in darkness, terrified. As he clawed at the soil for three days, his fear became anger and his anger became fury. When he finally took a breath, he vowed revenge on all who ever laid eyes on him. Then, he stumbled into town and obliterated every soul.”
“What a bastard!”
David laughed again. “Well, he did leave one alive—a small boy. Does that make him more likeable?”
“Depends,” I said. “Why did he leave him alive?”
“The boy, who reminded him of his own son, attacked the vampire with the jagged edge of a broken branch. Amused by the fearless bravery of the boy, the vampire took the spike and jammed it through his own heart, faking his death to satisfy the boy’s hunger for revenge.”
“How noble of him.”
David smirked. “Anyway, from then on,” he continued, “the human race decided, since the wood the child used originated from a tree on consecrated ground, that these Demons of the Night could be taken down by all things holy. Word spread and, like a disease, the rumours grew into the myths you still hear today.”
“Hm.” I considered his tale.
“And do you know what the name of that small boy was?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
He nodded, smiling. “Van Helsing.”
“And that’s a true story?” I asked.
“True story.”
“Well…if that’s true, why wouldn’t you just correct them—the humans, I mean—tell them the truth about the whole demon rumour thing?”
“Because, the lies assist with our cover.” He shrugged. “Those who can walk in the day, go to church or wear a cross, can’t possibly be one of these demonic creatures, and so, we can remain secret—live in peace.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. You’ll find most of the myths about my kind were started in much the same manner.” He smiled nostalgically and looked away. “We do love our grapevines, we who walk in the night.”
“Grapevines?” My brow arched.
“Ha! Yeah. Borrowed that one from your dad.”
“That was so not cool that you would’ve been better off saying we do love a bit of intrigue.”
David paused and studied me with soft eyes. “You would have fit well in my time, girl.”
“I fit in fine here, thank you.” I folded my arms. “So, why didn’t he wake up?”
“Who?”
“The vampire. When they buried him—why didn’t he wake up?”
“Oh. He was drunk.”
“You can get drunk?” My words burst out in a gust.
“Of course we can—” He laughed. “We can use drugs, too.”
“Really? Do you get addicted, like humans do?”
He shrugged dismissively. “Don’t know. Never met a vampire who used drugs. But I’ll be sure to ask if ever I do.”
“Thanks. Appreciate it.”
“Any time.” His sarcastic smile spread the corners of his lips widely.
“Okay, so, on with the interrogation.”
“Be my guest.” He motioned a forward hand to me, as if ushering me through a door.
“So, vamp myth one-oh-one; a crucifix won’t burn you?”
“I hope not.” David reached into the collar of his shirt and pulled out a heavy gold chain with a cross on the end of it. “I wear it whenever I go to church.”
I doubled back internally. “So, you are religious?”
“A little.” He smiled and dropped the cross to his chest.
“But, you’re also…dangerous?” I concluded.
“Very.” He smiled malevolently; a shudder crept up my spine.
I didn’t want to think of those who’d come to learn that as their last lesson. Slowly, I started my questions again. “How can you believe in God—and then go out and murder?”
“It’s not murder.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it’s not. It’s nourishment—necessary for survival. Does a farmer murder a cow?”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because a cow…” I bit my lip. “Because they…well…” I threw my hands up. “I don’t know. What do I look like, a priest?”
David laughed. “I love it when you know I’m right.”
“You’re not right!” Anger forced pulsing blood into my cheeks. “You believe in the Ten Commandments, pray at church, read the Bible—but you can kill the man sitting next to you without so much as—”