The Return of Joan

A vampire's old friend is returned to her. (Sequal to The Silver Cross)

          I sat calmly at the bar, sipping at my drink. It had gone cold and bitter, but I drank it anyway. Rowdy fledglings danced around me, another foolish celebration; the war wasn’t even fought by them and it wasn’t even close to being over.
          They were playing a horrible, pounding, modern music. It sounded like chanting, but the young ones called it rap. I thought it was incredibly distasteful. Who had turned on that awful music? Probably some fledgling or another, the place was full of them.

          Shoots and cheers rose again as a newcomer to the little bar passed around another flask of blood. Some ignored it, preferring the wineglass to the flask. Others drank none at the party; they would drink only straight from the vein.
          One could occasionally see a mortal walking about in here, but they were mostly “hunters”. Well, they thought themselves as hunters, but they didn’t slay anything but the weak and the young. They saved me the trouble.

         I was starting to worry that Meagan wouldn’t show. She was quite famous throughout the vampire community, because of her talent and, from what I had heard, she didn’t enjoy the praises she received.

          Meagan had gone cold after her transformation, but she had the talent. Vampires were weaker than they used to be, but with the right blood and the right mortal attributes vampires could still be almost all-powerful.

          No one had ever told her that silver actually didn’t hurt a werewolf, unless wielded by this special type of vampire; and she was that special type of vampire.

          Tonight was the night, but I hoped she wouldn’t cause an uproar. A rumor had spread a few weeks ago the she had set fire to two fledglings that hadn’t left her alone.

          The bar had gone quiet. The music still played, but someone quickly turned the volume down.

          Meagan stood in the doorway, dressed in the deepest shades of black, from the top of her black overcoat to the tip of her black high-heeled boots. A fledgling herself, she walked, talked, and had the power of an Elder. Her black hair was still done in a low ponytail. I guess you could say that black was her vampiric color. My own was brown. I could tell she had no desire to be here. She had no love for our kind, but she would tolerate my company.

          One fledgling stepped forward into her path and lifted his glass in salute. “To Silver, the werewolf killer! The avenger of the vampires!” A cheer rose as he spoke.

          I could see from where I sat how much she seethed. It wasn’t going to be pretty if her temper broke.

          Faster than even vampire eyes could follow; she grabbed the glass from the newborn vampire and smashed it against the ground, letting the dastardly contents seep into the wooden floor.

          “You all are idiots!” She screamed, throwing her hands into the air. “I have done nothing remarkable, nothing that you, yourselves couldn’t repeat. I do what I have to do to survive, nothing more. So leave me alone!” Her voice had gotten louder as she spoke and I had to smile to myself. She didn’t know how wrong she was.

         They all took a step back and gave her the space I knew she wanted. One young vampire was too slow and Meagan pushed him away. I heard a distinct crack of bone breaking. I didn’t worry too much; he would heal quickly.

          I took off my sunglasses and caught her eye. Her frown lifted for a second then settled back into place.

          “I see you got my note.” I said.

         “Yes, I did.” She drew a wad of paper out of the pocket of her leather pants. “I really don’t appreciate it when people know where I sleep, Michael. It wasn’t the best surprise to find it lying in my coffin.” She tossed the wad of paper at me and it hit me between my eyes. “You’re still in leather and blue jeans, I see.” She teased.

          I laughed. “At least I don’t look like I’m in mourning. Look at yourself, Meagan! You look as if you came out of a bad horror movie.”

         The smile vanished from her face and she glared at me. “Meagan’s dead, Michael. She’s been dead for years.” She said as she took my drink out of my hand and swigged it. When she found it cold she made a face. “I’m not Meagan anymore. That girl died in an abandoned building five years ago. All that remains is this...this shell of a being.” She tapped her chest.

          As she did so I saw a hint of silver flash in the light within the inner folds of her overcoat. Before she could stop me, I reached for it.

          It was a silver cross, much smaller than the original one she had worn on that fateful night years ago. It hung lightly around her neck on a matching silver chain.

         “So, who are you then, if you’re not Meagan?” I asked as I looked gently into her eyes.

         For a moment she didn’t speak. She simply took the cross out of my hand and tucked it out of sight; a weapon that wasn’t a weapon in anyone else’s hands. It was as beautiful as she was and it was a shame she kept it hidden.

          “I’m Silver, that’s the name the werewolves gave me after I scarred Damain.” She shook her head, as if ridding her head of a dangerous memory. “Why did you ask me here?”

         I drummed the tabletop with my fingertips as I spoke. “The Elder wishes to speak with you.”

          Silver laughed. “That crazy? I’ve heard the tales that vampire whisper to each other right before dawn. She changes her name every few weeks, does she not? It isn’t Taylor anymore, is it? That why you call her the Elder, isn’t it?” She folded her arms across her chest and continued to laugh.

         I frowned at her. Where was her respect? “You shouldn’t speak that way about your sire. Her blood runs through your veins.”

         She ignored my comment. “What does she call herself now, Michael?”

         I sighed. “Natalie, but you shouldn’t believe all the rumors of the vampire world. You wouldn’t believe some of the tales I’ve heard about you.” If I were mortal I think the poisonous look Silver gave me would have taken my life.

         “Shall we go then?” She said coolly, waving her hand toward the door.

         Weaving through the still-dancing crowd took some time. Silver didn’t like anyone coming close to her. One fledgling, which apparently hadn’t been here earlier, grabbed her arm and in return, she broke his.

         “Let him go crying home to his sire with that,” she commented to me as she watched his wound begin to heal.

         Outside the snow had began to fall, but neither of us felt the cold anymore. It rested exquisitely in Silver’s black hair and on her shoulders.

         She took no notice of my observations.

         I offered her my arm and she politely took it. Privately, I was very pleased that she didn’t loathe my touch like she did with the others of our kind.

         “I promised myself that I wouldn’t see her again until I knew what she saw in my mind,” she admitted as I began to lead her away from the bar.

         “She had guessed that,” I responded, remembering the information the Elder had drilled me on the night before. “I believe that is why she waited five years before asking for you. She is a patient woman.”

         We talked as we strolled through the snow-covered streets. Our feet never slipped on the ice. We were like two jungle cats walking through a forest in the middle of a downpour. We talked, but constantly, I found that I had to remind myself that I was here for a purpose and not to socialize.

         She was very beautiful, though.

         I lead Silver down an alley. The snow was coming down heavier now and many of the homeless were huddled in this long narrow space. We continued on, occasionally passing a trash barrel fire.

         Silver stopped abruptly, her eyes went wide with a fearful realization. “Michael, I’m not hungry,” she said so softly that my own vampiric ears could barely hear her. Her lips barely moved.

         I laughed gently. “Don’t worry, that’s not why we’re here. There is someone you need to talk to before you see the Elder.”

         The homeless around us lifted their head to get a better look at us. It had been six years since the existence of vampires was proven to the mortal population, but when mortals saw us they still had trouble identifying us.

         Silver caught the eye of one of them, freezing him into place and reading his mind. She did this with the expertise of an elder.

         I waited patiently while she searched the mortal’s mind; knowing that she wouldn’t find what she was looking for. Soon she turned back towards me and we continued. She became quiet.

         Soon I stopped in front of a mortal huddled against one of the brick buildings. The mortal’s face was hidden under the hood of a torn and mud-splattered sweatshirt.

         “Who is this?” Silver asked.

         “You used to know her well, Silver. When you didn’t come back, this mortal went to the brink of insanity and actually went looking for you. Which is more than the Elder had predicted. Soon afterwards she ran out of money and wound up here”

         “Joan!?” Silver let go of my arm and glared at me hard. Her gaze shot to the mortal, then back to me. “Don’t lie to me!”

         I simply nodded. “She is Joan.”

         “That can’t be her. She’s terrified of vampires; of us!”

         “When you didn’t come back,” the mortal started, not looking at either of us. Her face was still hidden under the hood of the ragged sweatshirt. “I forgot my fear. I wanted to be brave, like you.”

         A look melted Silver’s face, despite her pale face she actually looked completely normal. Her mask was gone.

         She kneeled in the dirty snow in front of Joan, indifferent to how filthy her sleek clothes would become. She pushed back the mortal’s hood to reveal a mudstreaked face of a thirty-year-old woman.

         “Oh Joan,” Silver whispered. “Didn’t I tell you not to worry?”

         “Meagan,” the mortal began. I noticed that Silver didn’t stop and correct her of her new name. “You were my best friend and all I could think about was how you insisted on going in that house. Your bravery, your curiosity, they were your death.

         “For a long time I thought you were dead. Then this vampire, I think his name was Jordan, told me you were alive. I had to find you.”

         The snow still fell around us, giving the alley an eerie glow from the distant street lights, and I saw something I never thought I’d see. Silver was crying. Two streaks of thick silver tears were running down her face.

         She brought Joan to her feet, lifting her easily. “Let’s get you out of the cold.” She said and started away.

         “Wait!” I said, “Joan, you said something about Silver’s bravery and curiosity?”

         Joan smiled meekly as she looked at both of us. I could see that Meagan was as careful as I was about not meeting the mortal’s eyes and accidentally freezing her into place. Then she looked hard at Silver’s averted eyes. “It’s what makes you, you, Meagan. I don’t think anyone has as much of those qualities as you do.”

         Silver turned her gaze back to me. “What the Elder saw...”

         I nodded. “Now you know, go ahead, get your friend warmed up. The Elder can wait.”

         She said not another word to me. She meekly lowered her eyes in thought and nodded.

         She put her arm around her friend and departed, not looking back and leaving me standing there in the snow.

         I stood there, smiling to myself, then I too left the alley.

         Outside the alley waited a man smoking a cigarette. When he saw me he flicked it away.

         “You did a good job placing that mortal there and feeding her the information, Jordan.”

         Jordan shook his head. “Pray Silver doesn’t find out that Joan had to be pried from that house.”

         “Silver,” I huffed, “What a name.”

         “The Elder will be pleased,” Jordan said, ignoring my comment and lighting another cigarette. “She knows and now has a companion. Hopefully she’ll return to her duties. She is quite the werewolf killer.”

         He looked at me strangely for a moment. “You know, before Silver, you were the closest the Elder ever came to siring a chosen.”
         I shot him a look. Jordan knew as well as I did that I would have taken the job gladly. Meagan had no desire for it. “Jordan,” I said, attempting to change the subject. “Do you think that Silver will make that mortal a vampire?”

         “Does it matter?” He countered. “As long as she remains sane. The werewolf population isn’t depleting and only she has the ability to make such a kill. Sires haven’t chosen their fledglings well in these past few centuries, have they? Let’s just hope she will go on with her destiny.”

         “I hope so, Jordan, I hope so.”