Is This Thing On?

"Here come the woman, with the look in her eye.
Raised on leather, with flesh on her mind.
Words as weapons sharper than knives,
Makes you wonder how the other half die."
--INXS, "The Devil Inside"

The light from the bonfire blazed between her and I. The fire added heat that was hardly noticeable compared to the air in the small cave which was already warm from the blistering sun that had just set. The cave did provide shelter and shade but it did little to cool us during my nightly visits.

I could see her perfectly beyond the flames, sparks, and wisps of smoke that rose and curled over the lip of the cave. As the light and shadows danced, I found it difficult to tell if her hair was scarlet or black. It seemed to change with the whim of a passing breeze. Her eyes, however, were honey brown and never gazed away from me. She was naked before me and I did not shy from her nudity.

"I am the Agonist," she said softly, her fear breaking free for a moment from her previous bliss. I did not know the word and she sensed this. She continued, "I do not like the word antagonist because that immediately conjoins with adversary or enemy. An agonist is merely involved in a struggle; struggles lead to pain and agony, and that word, though still bitter, is more toothsome. I don't expect you to understand, empathize, or believe me."

I frowned as I immediately felt I should defend her, or at least how I felt about her. I asked, "So then what do you want, Lilith?"

She stood up and began to swish her arms with a grace that I should have known she could possess, yet it still took my breath away. She stepped back and forth, and slowly she started to twirl. A gentle spin at first, as if she was trying to remember long practiced moves that were more than rote.

Her motions became fluid before my eyes as she whirled faster. In my mind I thought I could hear a drum beating for her to dance to. Then I realized it was my heartbeat thrumming in my ears. Inside the cave a small wind picked up speed around us. The heat of it stung my eyes for a moment, but I dared not look away from her. The wind whistled around inside the cave and fed the flames before me. The breeze rushed outside and I could hear it rustling trees and bushes nearby. It picked up speed as she danced faster, her body spinning so fast now that I could not understand what I saw before me.

Was the heat causing waves of mirage distortion, or was she changing shape? She was not morphing into anything, but perhaps I was able to see her true self: the wind.

Clouds were gathering outside, and though I could not see them behind me, I saw flashes of lightning that brightened the cave for an instant. My shadow was painted on the walls of the cave then, but her shadow was not there. The clap of thunder followed, and it echoed so loud within the cave that I screamed and my heart stopped. When my heart beat stopped, in that moment, I saw her frozen in a trance brought on by the dance. My heart thumped back to life and her whirling continued at a breakneck pace.

Did she bring about the storm, or was she the storm? Wind and rain, thunder and lightning. It was all connected, and it was all her. It never clicked until then, but I understood. Of all the gods and goddesses, the others were the sun, moon, and stars. But Lilith, she was the breath of life. She wasn't the night -- that was Nyx. No, Lilith was the night air. That which peasants feared once upon a time. I never understood why they feared it.

Sure, the night air could be colder, harsher, but is that reason to fear it? The wind that whipped around me thrilled my skin. It did not chill me here in the warm cave. Yet I still had chills down my spine, and goose pimples all over me as I felt the energy of the wind. Another realization dawned on me then. I felt this before when I was young as a dust devil approached and surrounded me. I didn't try to avoid its path, and as it rushed around me then I felt the sensation I felt now. That was when I smiled at the thought of Lilith being the dust devil then just as she was now.

As I was at such peace by the memory and the feeling surrounding me that my heart beat slowed, and to my surprise, so did her dance. Was I really the drummer of her whirling dervish?

When she slowed and the wind died down, I could see her graceful form again. As she finished her dance, her eyes once again met mine and I shuddered. There was contentment in her eyes, like a hunger fulfilled.

She said nothing and with the wind calmed along with my heartbeat, all I could hear was the crackling of the fire between us.

To break the silence, I asked her, "What was that?"

She smiled an ineffable smile and replied, "The answer to your question. Everything has power; some things more than others. Words have more than most."

I was confused again. I know she didn't mean to speak to me in riddles, but just the same, I did not understand.

"Words are real; as real as the air they are carried on," she said as she walked through the flames and sat down next to me. She reached out her hand and caressed my face, and I could feel her presence. I felt neither warm flesh nor cold, yet I felt her touch and more than that I cannot express. "When you tell a story of me, it is as though life were breathed into me. Many stories have been told of me."

I nodded recognition of many stories told and written about Lilith, most of them quite nasty. Though as I sat there with her, I did not believe any of them. Temptress she may be, but a demoness, succubus or vampire? Would I recognize such a creature if I saw one, though? I asked, "Are the stories true?"

"One cannot say that they are true or false," she answered again without logic. She smiled and said, "I am not a person who can be judged, Daniel."

That was when I realized that she knew my name. I mean, I knew who she was and as surely as she summoned me, I knew she had to know me. Yet, to hear my name was a surprise. It was almost if I'd forgotten my own name and her saying it sparked memories I didn't know I'd lost. It was then that I wondered if it wasn't necessarily me that she was addressing, but my name.

Daniel is a Hebrew name, as is Lilith, but I did not understand the significance, so I said, "I am not judging you; I'm merely curious."

"Curiosity is a dangerous thing," she said with a wry grin. "Stories are like masks that we all wear. Some are made by our own hands and others are crafted by strangers. They may be beautiful or grotesque, but in the end we must decide if they really reflect who we are."

Just then, she went to push some hair from her face and removed her mask, and it was then that I woke up.

© Copyright 2007 by Dan Shaurette

“Who needs the light
With the darkness in your eyes
Who needs to sleep
With the stars in the sky
It’s here in your soul
I want to be married
You are my sanctuary.”
– Madonna, “Sanctuary” from Bedtime Stories

Adam Stone had a good life. He lived in Phoenix, Arizona all of that life. He met his beautiful wife, Cori, over a year ago and they were married almost immediately. They only just celebrated their first anniversary a few days ago.

He had a great job. He and Cori owned and operated a small rare books store named “Ex Libris”. The bookstore was a storefront to their two-story house — the store taking most of the ground floor.

The bookstore dealt with new and used books. Hard to find volumes. The arcane and unusual. The rare and valuable. He bought and sold books, scripts, and comic books from around the world.

The comics are what he enjoyed the most. His favorite comic was that of the adventures of “Obsidian” — in all of his outlets: “Obsidian: Defender of Darkness”, “Obsidian of Canyon City”, and “Obsidian and Ruby” which in the 70’s introduced the Dark Avenger’s beautiful sidekick Ruby; the inspiration of many a teenage wet dream for Adam as he grew up.

When Adam was young, he wanted to be Obsidian when he grew up. Battling evil with his buxom, copper-haired lover/fighter beside him. But when he grew up, he realized the closest he could come was to hands-down own the largest collection of Obsidian comics anywhere. When he came into some money, after his parents died, he turned his house into a rare books store.

He placed an ad one day for an assistant, and Cori answered the ad. At first, the relationship was professional, but the two quickly fell in love and got married. Yes, Adam had a good life once upon a time.

A year later, however, the publisher of the now “Obsidian: Dark Crusades” comics, has gone out of business. Adam received the last issue and cried practically all night long as he read the heartbreaking story of how Obsidian finally cleaned up the last of the arch-villains of Canyon City and decided to retire, and left Ruby with an unrequited love’s broken heart.

It was all Adam could talk about for days, and that was driving Cori crazy because he wasn’t paying attention to her. She was almost jealous.

One day, Adam woke up to the sound of the shower running. He knocked on the door for her to let him in so he could relieve himself. She didn’t answer. He knocked harder and called out to her. He heard nothing but the hiss of the shower running. Then he felt the water at his feet. He looked down as the floor started to get flooded with red-tinted water.

He stepped back in shock, and then steeled himself to ram the bathroom door. He broke through and was overwhelmed when he saw Cori floating in the bathtub overflowing with bloody water; steaming hot water still spraying down onto her lifeless body. He turned away for a second as the fear and revulsion washed over him. He then came back to his senses and carefully walked across the slippery wet floor to turn off the water and pull the plug.

As the water swirled down the drain, Adam rushed to the bedroom phone to call 9-1-1. He described the situation then hung up as he waited for help. In the meantime, he found towels to soak up the water making its way onto the bedroom floor.

The paramedics found Adam sitting on the toilet, with the lid down, mumbling to himself in a dazed state. Adam was lost in his own fear, trapped in a dark place, wondering why Cori would have killed herself. When the water drained away, he saw that her wrist had been cut… the razor blade caught in the drain. That image kept flashing back to him in his mind.

He could hear paramedics say, as if in the distance through a tin-can phone, “what a mess” and “sad to see this happen” and “what must he be thinking”, but worst of all, “she was dead when we arrived — hard to tell the exact time of death — get the coroner down here.”

 

* * * * * * *
 

It was almost 2 weeks later, 13 days to be exact, before Adam opened up the bookstore to the public again. He was tired and distracted; by now he was an insomniac. He couldn’t sleep, but when he did, he had nightmares about Cori. So, he ended up changing the hours that the store was open, staying open later.

That night, just after the sun set, a beautiful red-head dressed in a provocative black leather outfit that had to have been painted on walked into the store with an old book bound in black leather with gold embossed writing on the cover. She walked up to the counter he was standing behind and gently placed the book onto the countertop.

Adam had a haunting feeling that he knew the woman from somewhere but there was no mistake what book was just brought to him. He caught his breath then asked, “Is this really the ‘Book of Palingenesis’?”

The woman smiled a knowing smile and sweetly replied, “Yes, and I’m willing to sell it to you… for a price. One I’m sure you are willing to pay.”

“And what would that be?” he asked.

“I need you to be the next Obsidian.”

His heart stopped as he realized with whom he was talking. Was he going mad? Was this really Ruby in his store, asking him to be Obsidian?

“What?!” was the first intelligent thought that he could verbalize. Then came, “Why do you want me to be Obsidian? Who am I to you?”

Her lips curled as she replied, “I know all about you, Adam Stone. I know you are the one man who knows everything about Obsidian, and me. I know you were as shocked as I was that Obsidian retired…”

“Wait a minute… just wait. Obsidian is just a comic book character. YOU are a comic-book character. This isn’t happening.”

She slapped him in the face. “Did that feel real enough to you? Trust me, I’m as real as you are, Adam. If that doesn’t convince you, I know something you don’t know that you can only reveal if you become Obsidian.”

Still reeling from the sting, he cautiously asked, “What’s that?”

Her face became cold, “That your wife Cori didn’t kill herself. She was murdered.”

“That’s it. I’ve gone insane. ‘That’s right officer, a comic-book bimbo told me my wife was murdered,’” he said, mocking her.

She tried to slap him again, but he caught and held her hand fast. She smiled again and said, “Very impressive. With moves like that, you will become Obsidian easily. Listen, I don’t have all night. Read this book. It will explain a lot to you. Most importantly, it will explain how I can make you Obsidian.” With that she freed her wrist from his grip and started to walk towards the door. She opened the door, turned and said, “And yes, you have gone insane. That’s what I like most about you, Adam.” With that, she was gone, disappearing into the night.

In his business, Adam has become very familiar with the legends of many rare books. The Book of Palingenesis is the most rare of all of the apocryphal texts to ever be excluded from the canonized Bible. Legends held that a rogue Templar Knight had acquired a copy and vanished mysteriously afterwards. Tales of failed attempts to claim it before and since rival even the quests for the Holy Grail. Even a splinter group of the Spanish Inquisition claimed to have searched the globe in an attempt to find it and destroy it. In the end, it is said, they declared it to be pure myth; a fiction to be sure.

The very idea that someone, a comic book heroine at that, would just drop it off for him to skim in an evening was preposterous. Yet he picked it up and was compelled by curiosity to look through it. The binding was quite worn and weathered. The pages were not paper but very fine parchment. This was not a book to flip through casually, but gingerly and with care. It was written in English, hand-scribed and illuminated. If it were authentic, it would have been transcribed from at least a Greek source, and from an unknown language before that. The word genesis is from the ancient Greek for “birth” or “origin”. The prefix palin means “back again”. Put them together and you get anything from a second creation, to resurrection or reincarnation, perhaps reanimation… even vampirism. It described everything that goes against Christian dogma, save the ability of one special man. Everything that could punch a hole into the side of the world’s predominant, if fractured, religion.

By the time he finished reading the ancient, hand-illuminated tome he had been given, Adam was exhausted. He fell asleep as he completed the last sentence. Shortly into his long-awaited slumber, he began to dream. He saw the whole of the Book Of Palingenesis acted out before him.

 

* * * * * * * 

“And the Earth was void and Empty
And Darkness was upon the face of the Earth
Is all of this pain so necessary?
You are my sanctuary.
Surely whoever speaks to me with the right voice
Him or her I shall follow,
As the water falls from the roof.
Silently.”
– Madonna, “Sanctuary” from Bedtime Stories

The Creation of Adam… and Lilith? The First Sin? Not the “Original Sin”, but the First. Of the betrayal of Lilith by Adam, the Angels, and God Himself. What the book failed to say, unless he missed it, was just who it was exactly who committed the First Sin. Perhaps they all did, not just Lilith. That was another terrible thing that mustn’t be allowed to surface. The idea that Adam was flawed was acceptable, but not the angels and God. Blasphemy and heresy, right here in his hands. So any trace of Lilith was erased from the Good Book, second runner-up Eve was promoted to matron of humanity; the church had its scapegoats, and all was right with the world.

But what happened to Lilith? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Her fury was the First, and it burned so bright even God was singed. Throughout the ages of man she continued to return, in many forms, to either help or hinder Mankind at her will. One of her happy chores was to seduce young men in their sleep, feeding on their dreams. From her we also get our nightmares, and legends of succubae and vampires.

He saw it all. He finally believed. He finally understood. He knew why the early patriarchs of the Judeo-Christian religions tried to destroy this tome. The Inquisition and Crusades may never have happened had this been found. The vampires would never have had to masquerade in the darkness. The Obsidian Order would never have been necessary.

In his dream he cried out, “My God! It’s all so clear! Holy Shit! I know about it all. They’ll kill me to protect the secret, unless…” Then Ruby appeared before him, in a flowing, black silk dress that almost, but not quite, revealed her shapely body, and said, “Unless you drink from me tonight. All your life you have sought out the arcane knowledge… especially those lost books of the Bible. But the Apocrypha left you hungry for more, and you thought the Book Of Palingenesis was only legend. You thought WE were only legend. Vampires are very real. We are not the foul beasts of Hollyweird. We are the Keepers of the Night. We are not all evil. Some of us champion the Innocent. Obsidian was one of us. He was killed by the Hunters, and his successor must be found. You, Adam, are to be that Dark Avenger. You have been trained since your childhood to be his successor.”

He understood, “Through the comic books.”

“Yes. It was the only way the secret could be kept in check this long. Permission has been granted to me by the Prince of Phoenix himself, whom you will meet soon, to make you one of us.” She seemed to float nearer to him, and eventually less than an inch separated their bodies, ethereal as they were.

“What about Cori?” he asked solemnly.

“Her murder is for you to solve. For you to Avenge. Her soul will not rest without Retribution. You are the only one who can find out the Truth. Only you have the Thirst for Truth and Justice and now Vengeance that is the birthright of Obsidian.”

He looked into her crystal blue eyes and asked, “But do I need the Thirst of Blood as well?”

“Vengeance is a dish best served cold,” she started as she took his hand and placed it on her bosom above her heart. He felt her lifeless, cold body for the first time. She smiled and continued, “as cold as my dead heart. But even in this cold heart, there is warmth. Even in the Darkness we must live in, there is Light as long as Obsidian defends that Darkness and the Innocents it shelters. As Obsidian, you will slake your Undead Thirst only on the criminals you pursue. You will not be able to take the life of an innocent. If you find their blood spilt, it will have no hold over your Thirst, but their slayer’s blood will satiate you two-fold.”

“And what about you? Will you fight beside me and love me as you did the original Obsidian?” he asked moving his hand from her bosom to wrap around her and pull her closer to him. Up against him so close. The chill of her skin against his was invigorating.

“As I have fought with every Obsidian I have created down the years, my beautiful Adam.” With that she kissed him. When they came up for air, she asked, “So, Adam, will you join me?”

Gasping, he gave in and said, “Yes…” and he woke up. When he realized he had been dreaming and she wasn’t there, he sat up straight and the Book of Palingenesis fell from his lap. He noticed a Post-It note was attached to the cover when he picked it up that read: “My Love, I’m glad you agreed. But you must train before you are turned. You’ll also need your cloak. We shall begin tonight when the sun sets again. Until then, Ruby.”

 

* * * * * * *
 

The following night, she arrived as she promised, and they began a regimen of exercise and martial arts to hone his skills. He was already in fine shape, but never had formal training in defensive and lethal moves. He often mimicked the style of Obsidian from the pages of the comics, as Ruby hoped he would, so the training went quickly. But the agility and stealth he needed would not be trained easily. They would come with the power of her blood.

Night after night they worked, until finally 28 days had passed, and she believed he was ready. She presented him with the famous Cloak of Shadows. A thick, yet remarkably light hooded cloak that was pitch black in color. Light almost seemed to be sucked into it like a black hole. She set it aside, and told him, “You can put it on afterwards.”

“After what,” he asked.

She only smiled and walked up to him to give him a kiss; a long kiss, which ended with her moving from his lips to his neck. Soon after she bit and began to drink, he lost consciousness as he gave himself willingly.

Like fire, her blood burned down his throat, and yet he didn’t mind the heat. In fact, he welcomed it. Indeed, he finally wanted something more than anything else in his life. Such as it was. With the heat — the thick, salty liquid heat — came understanding.

Truth. Power. Knowledge. Infinity. Mind-shattering and numbing revelations threatening to crush his puny mortal brain under its weight. The weight of everything that had happened to him, combined with her blood, cracked his psyche like an egg and fried it as if it landed on a Phoenix sidewalk in July.

As his mind fractured he became deranged with two personalities. Like all good superheroes, Obsidian has an alter-ego, which is now the mild-mannered, bookish Adam Stone. However, unlike a normal secret identity, Adam will also tend to “channel surf” through other personalities from time to time. When his psyche split in two, it wasn’t a clean break; little fiddly bits splintered off. They are the little insane lapses he’ll suffer and Adam knows this now. The blood has made this known to him. Or perhaps Ruby told him through their blood bond.

Either way, he can’t stop it, or control it. Only his final death can hope to calm the madness. Until then, Obsidian is locked inside Adam Stone. The suffering of those around him and the evil elements in the world will draw him out, and they had best not be around when he is unleashed.

He slept all day after the Kiss, and when he awoke the next night, he found her beside him. He woke her with a kiss, and they fooled around for a bit before she told him that he would need to meet the Prince that night. He was nervous, naturally, but he tried not to let it show.

Upon presentation at Midnight, the Prince kept his word and accepted Adam Stone into his domain — secretly hoping to meet his Dark Half soon. Little did he know how soon it would be. At the end of the introduction, an explosion was heard from outside. Ruby ran outside and Adam followed. The Prince went as well to investigate.

When the trio made it outside, they found a car had been bombed. The car had chrome spray-paint on it that read, “The Legend of Obsidian WILL DIE!” As the three discussed who might pull such a stunt, a black car without plates screeched around the corner. A window rolled down, and a shotgun loaded with phosphorus shells was fired towards Adam.

Ruby dove in front of him and took the hit full-on, completely scorching her chest to her heart. Adam screamed into the night, “NOOOoooo…!” He turned to face the Prince, bloody tears rolling down his cheeks from his eyes, which were now blazing red. In between sobs he swore, “If it is… the last thing I do… on this Earth… I will avenge her death. I will avenge Cori’s death, and I pledge my services to you, my Prince. I only ask of you two things.”

“Name them,” the Prince said.

“First, turn around,” He said, in a slightly deeper, calmer voice.

The Prince smiled, shrugged, and then turned around. After a whooshing sound, a tap came to his shoulder so he turned back around, to find a man who somehow seemed taller, or stronger, or just different, but certainly wearing a black hooded cloak that fluttered slightly in the light breeze. “The other thing,” Obsidian said, “is never tell anyone my true identity.”

“Absolutely. You have my word,” said the Prince as he extended his hand. Obsidian started to kneel before him, but the Prince stopped him and said, “A handshake will suffice, Obsidian.”

“With these powers, I could be… a Super Hero! But first…”
– The Mask

© 2003 Daniel Shaurette

Part I: The Shining Sun, Blue Moon and the Shooting Star

Once upon a time so long ago, the sun and moon and stars shone down on the world below. All the heavens above loved Mother Earth and enjoyed their chance to shine upon her. In an immortal, beautiful dance, each took their turns in the sky with grace.

While the sun enjoyed his charge watching Mother Earth and her children, his separation from the rest of the stars gave him a loneliness he often couldn't bear. Every night, when he laid himself to rest, he found himself longing to find another star that he could love. But the field of heavenly bodies was so large and full of such beauty that he dared not to fall in love with them.

One day, the moon's dance brought her close to the sun. He was entranced with the light she shined. But she told him, "This is not my light. I am a lady of shadows. I am cold. But through your beautiful light and warmth, I too can shine."

The sun loved the moon, and was happy to give her only as much light as she wanted. He was afraid that one so fair as her might burn away if he shined too brightly on her.

As a result of their dances, she shines down on the earth the true cycles of birth, fullness of life, and then death. He died every night, just a little, for every death she had to make. But he was always happy by her return.

Every night though still brought his sleep. With every sleep was the dream of the heavens he left so long ago. One night, he saw a shooting star. It was so beautiful in his sight.

She flew so fast across the heavens that he could not catch her. In her wake, a great sadness overcame him. The moon saw this sadness and she comforted him. She reminded him kindly of the cycles of all things. She said, "Even such fleeting beauty of the shooting star shall come again."

The sun rose and slept many days. The moon too kept her monthly cycles. Times would come when the two would know each other and eclipse all light together.

Then, one night, during the rarest of blue moons, the light of the shooting star returned. The sun asked the shooting star why she raced so. She answered, "I am trying to find a home. I circle this earth, her moon, and you her sun, hoping to find a place I belong."

"Then your search is at an end," said the sun. She smiled but shook her head in despair saying, "You warm me, dear sun, and though I miss that warmth, to get too close would melt me."

The sun was once again sad, but finally understood what the moon meant about cycles. The shooting star was not just a comet, but was as eternal as the sun and moon, and must spin in her orbit, just as the moon does, and yes, just as the sun does.

Every once in a while, their eternal dances bring the three of them close, not only to each other, but to find a moment together with the earth they all love so much.

When this happens, a magical chance occurs -- every once in a blue moon -- that allows them to come together and know each other.

Part II: Mother Earth and her Children

The sun, moon, and stars revolve around Mother Earth. Though they seem so far away at times, busy with their eternal cycles, they do so to bring life and happiness to their precious, grounded Mother.

The light of the sun always rises in the morning and sets at night, setting forth a regular daily routine that never changes. His light, warmth and love are always there to enjoy. But such golden light can burn even the heartiest of souls if it is worshipped too long. More over, all the colors of the rainbow are the gift of the Sun. But even such a beautiful light should not be stared at for too long. The cold shadows of night are still needed to find the beauty of the rest of the heavens.

Sometimes the moon can be seen during the day, but truly her glow shines brightest at night. If Mother Earth or her children should fail to understand or remember the eternal cycle of life, they need only to look to the Moon. She is born monthly, out of the shadows of the night. As the Sun's light waxes over her, she reveals more of her mysteries to everyone who has eyes to see her. The fullness of her light shines the longest, and all creatures of the night bask in her glow: wolves, vampires, and lovers alike.

It is sad when her light wanes from view, but it must, for the cycle must complete and return her to shadows. All women repeat this cycle as their own internal cycle of birth, life, and death play on within them. Mother Earth and her children are eternally blessed to carry on the gifts of the Moon in her sight.

The heavens unfurl a glorious tapestry above Mother Earth to cover her and protect her. Like an expertly woven and bejeweled blanket it comforts her. The stars, planets, comets and meteor showers, all seek to provide a blueprint of order out of chaos for the Mother. But even the heavens can be frightening. The most beautiful, fleeting, and precious spectacle is that of the shooting star. Those lucky enough to even see one can make a wish upon it, and by the grace of the heavens it can come true. Even Mother Earth has been known to be hurt by shooting stars that come too close, yet even the largest craters are but a beauty mark upon her surface. Some even say that shooting stars are part of Mother Earth that simply want to find their way home to her.

All of these celestial dancers, friends, and lovers, wish to shine down upon Mother Earth. Sometimes Mother Earth looks up at her celestial kindred and she wonders about her place among them. Is she below them? Is she part of them? Why must they continue in their cosmic cycles around her, never to touch her?

"Dearest Mother, everything we do, we do for you and all of your children. With each new day comes a new chance to enjoy life and love," the Sun's warmth speaks.

The Moon beams down to say, "Sweet Lady, I can only show you the truth and bring you peace. You will know birth, joy, and death through me. These things can also bring pain, but through that pain shall come love."

The Shooting Star cries, and from the showers, the most beautiful message is given, "Beloved Mother, we are here for you, and want to give you our love. Not everything in Heaven or Earth is perfect or peaceful. Our dances are often bittersweet. But throughout everything, be it chance or destiny that casts us around, we will always be around, and so will our love for you."

I’ve never been one to be superstitious. Granted, being a vampire hunter has made me more aware of the supernatural forces around me. I mean the only talisman that I have, if you can call it that, is my silver ankh with the amethyst mount. But I certainly never put any credence to the stories about Friday the 13th. Too many horror movies in my misspent youth ruined my appreciation for the day.

I mean, come on, is some goalie-mask clad axe murderer going to come get me? Get real. I mean, even vampire movies set you up for great expectations. But I’ve learned the hard way that vampires follow none of Hollywood’s rules.

Even still, the power that surrounds a Friday that happens to be the thirteenth day of a month should not have been underestimated. Combine the fact that it landed in October of 2000 and the power was stronger. Finally, discover that the moon was perfectly full - and I shudder to realize how foolish I was.

October’s full moon is known as the Hunter’s Moon. Hence the reason that I was out on patrol. There seems to be an almost palatable fear in the air during a Hunter’s Moon. The hairs on your neck stand a little straighter. The air has an even crisper chill to it. This all adds up to making the vampires a little friskier.

While the mundane world is planning their Halloween parties and visiting Haunted houses, I find myself acutely aware of the real things that go bump in the night. I made the rounds of the graveyards in town. I rarely find any activity there, but in October, I’ve learned that you can never bee to careful. No fresh graves, but I did notice something by the old Johnson family crypt.

With my crossbow loaded, I made my way around the rear of the aging stone and marble site. I could make out the muffled argument between two men. One sounded frightened and the other was egging him on. It sounded like they were discussing some kind of prank. I disarmed my crossbow and set it down next to a shovel near me. I decided to scare them off by pretending I was a groundskeeper. I picked up the shovel and walked casually around the corner.

“What the hell are you guys doing here?” I shouted as I came upon them in a gruff voice. Startled, the two men snapped their heads to look at me. The younger looking man in the leather jacket started to stutter a response. The older guy wearing a black trench coat told him to shut up and asked me, “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the groundskeeper, and you’re trespassing. Who are you?” I returned.

“Groundskeeper, my ass!” he yelled. Before I knew it, he whipped out a pistol and pointed it in my direction. His movements were too fast. This guy wasn’t mortal. He cocked the gun and barked, “Get out of here before I pop you, fool.”

The young guy piped up, “Dude, what’s with the gun? I didn’t sign up for this shit.”

“Shut UP,” the older guy shouted back to his friend. “We’re going through with the ceremony tonight and we don’t need any distractions.” When he turned back to face me, his eyes were glowing red and his canine teeth were extended.

Fuck, was the only thing that crossed my mind. Can never be too careful, eh? Now the only weapon I had was a shovel, and with his reflexes, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to dodge his gunfire. That is, if I thought he was going to shoot. I tried to calm the vamp down, “Dude, there’s no need for this. I’m just doing my job.”

“You leave now, and I won’t have to kill you,” he demanded.

“Fair enough,” I said as I put the shovel down and ran into the shadows. When I saw that they didn’t follow me, I went back to the crypt and grabbed my crossbow. I loaded it and crept around the corner to find that the duo had disappeared.

I couldn’t find any trace of them. I was about to go and see if they were still on the grounds when I heard a faint noise come from inside the crypt. It sounding like muffled crying. I had this image of those two up to no good inside a crypt. But when I saw that it was locked from the outside, I couldn’t imagine that they could have locked themselves in.

I grabbed the shovel that I had dropped earlier and I used it to smash the rusting lock off the door. Crossbow at the ready, I pushed the iron door in. As it creaked, I started to be afraid of what I was going to find inside. It was pitch black within the crypt. It was only by the moonlight that I was able to see any shapes. I took out my lighter and flicked it to life. I was shocked to find a naked woman tied onto a table, blindfolded and gagged. It was also obvious by the way she was tied and the blood on her that she had been raped.

Quickly, I took the blindfold off of her and held the flame to my face so that she could see who I was. I didn’t know if she saw her attacker, or not, but I wanted her to know I meant her no harm. She was definitely frightened. I told her I was going to help her and I was going to remove her gag. She didn’t scream and licked her lips because they were dry and sore form the gag.

“My name is William, what’s yours?” I asked as I began to burn off the ropes around her wrists, which were tied behind her head.

“Jessica… Lupinsky,” she struggled with the words as she tried to catch her breath.

“Like Tara Lipinsky, the skater,” I asked, trying to get her to feel at ease with me.

She started to giggle at the comparison, then choked a little and added, “Yes. I think she’s beautiful.”

I finally burned through the ropes binding her wrist, and she was able to sit up. As she did, she hit the moonlight. “I think you are beautiful, too.” I don’t know why I said it, even though it was true. She smiled a little uncomfortably, but knew it was an honest compliment. Before moving on to the other ropes, I took off my jacket and put it around her. She thanked me.

“You’re most welcome. So, can you tell me what happened to you?” As I began to burn at the ropes around her legs, she began telling me about how she was kidnapped by someone she thought was her friend. Him and some old guy she never met drugged her and that was all she remembered.

I felt uncomfortable asking her, especially as I burned away the ropes from her spread eagle legs. But I needed to know more, so as the rope fell away from her left leg, I asked, “Do you remember… them harming you in any way? I’m not sure, but it looks like they raped you.”

“Oh my god, no, I.. I can’t remember, but I do feel sore. Oh no,” she began crying.

I stopped on the last rope and when over to console her. “I’m sorry. Do you mind if I ask how old you are?”

As she continued to cry, she said, “I just turned 18. Today is my birthday.” That made her cry louder. At that point, I just felt compelled to hug her and give her a shoulder to cry on if she needed it. She took advantage of it and cried some more and squeezed me tight. My god, she smells good. Her crying slowed down, and she whispered in my ear, “Thank you William”.

“Bill. Bill Johnson,” I told her.

She laughed, “Like the restaurant?”

I laughed, too. “Yeah. Speaking of, are you hungry?”

“Famished,” she replied.

“Are you OK?”

“I am now.”

I left her side to finish the ropes on her right leg. For some reason, I couldn’t stop staring at her legs. I didn’t dare look higher now that the moonlight was perfectly illuminating the chamber. As I finished the last rope, I could sense some strength in those legs. But I remained a gentleman. I went back to her side and helped her off the table. She said she was very sore and she appreciated the help.

“So, Bill, what are you doing here? Are you in the business of rescuing damsels in distress?”

“Let’s just say I was at the right place at the right time.”

She smiled and said, “I’m glad you were.”

I searched the crypt to see if the men had left her clothes behind, but I could not find them. “If you like, I can take you home so you can get some clothes.”

She agreed that was a good idea. I picked up my crossbow and I walked to the doorway to see if the men were anywhere nearby. When I was certain the coast was clear, I turned back to her. She looked scared again. I realized that the crossbow has that effect. I said, “It’s a long story.”

She nodded understanding, at least for now, and took my hand. We walked to my car and we drove to her place.
By the time we arrived at her apartment, I had told her everything about myself. Including the fact that I moonlight as a vampire hunter. While she seemed skeptical at first, I tried to explain that the older man that kidnapped her was a vampire. The younger guy, I couldn’t be sure of, but I suspected he was one as well. When I reminded her that she was raped in a crypt, that helped her believe me. It also put her at ease because she knew she could trust me.

Once inside her apartment, she immediately rushed to her bathroom. I didn’t need to know why, but I could imagine she needed to go. She yelled out for me to make myself at home. I shouted back, “Do you mind if I ask you some more questions?”

“Ask away,” she said as she flushed. She came out of the bathroom wearing a robe and handed me my jacket. “Would you like something to drink?” she asked.

“Thanks,” I said. “Yes, whatever you’re having will be fine. So, have long did you know the young man?”

“Only about a month, on campus at the University. He was hitting on me after class one day. I thought he was cute, so we started dating.”

“Can I ask if you two…” I started.

“Yes.. I mean, it’s OK. No, we didn’t. In fact I’m a virgin… or was until tonight. He told me that he wanted to do something special for my birthday, my God. I can’t believe I let this happen.”

“This is not your fault. He did this to you. Did he ever seem aggressive?”

She handed me a drink that looked like ginger ale. I took a sip and nodded thanks for the drink. She answered, “No, in fact I thought he was very sweet. I guess it was all just a game.”

“Perhaps, but maybe there’s also a connection to this night.”

“Because it’s my birthday?”

“Yes, but more than that, it is also a full moon tonight. And, though I know I’m reaching with this, it’s also Friday the 13th.”

“Do you think he’s some kind of psycho?”

“Well, he may be a part of a cult, a vampire cult perhaps. This could have been his initiation. They were willing to kill me to keep me away. They may have planned to kill you, too, until I spooked them off.”

We both sat down on her couch. She sat close to me, and I didn’t mind. “Then I owe you my life as well. How does one pay back such a debt?”

While she was in the bathroom she must have put on some perfume, because she smelled incredible. It was a heavy musk, but very feminine, not masculine like a musk cologne. I’d never smelled anything like it before. It was intoxicating. I wanted to kiss her. I watched as she took another drink and my heart ached as she licked her lips.

“You don’t owe me anything,” I said, my heart beating faster.

She leaned forward to kiss me and her robe started to open. My hand wanted to reach inside but instead I forced it to close her robe. I wanted this so much, and yet I couldn’t let her do this. She didn’t stop. Her lips met mine and they tasted like rum. A spicy-sweet, warm flavor that was carried not only by her lips but her tongue.

I gave in and enjoyed the kiss. She took a breath and said, “I’ve never done anything like this before. And I don’t just want to repay you for saving me, but I want… you.”

My head was spinning from her kiss, her beauty, her perfume. Here was a naked 18 year old coed trying to seduce me. I wanted so much to take the robe off, but something inside me told me this was wrong. This girl was just raped. She was a virgin before that. Now she was drinking rum and fondling me. She knows exactly what to do to turn a man on. This doesn’t add up. But, I couldn’t escape her kiss.

When I did get a chance to breath, I tried to stop her. “Jessica… Jess… stop.”

She began kissing my neck and I had to push her away. She looked at me like I just betrayed her. She couldn’t believe I didn’t want her. She got up and ran to her bathroom again, and locked the door.

I got up and ran to stop her, but had the door slammed in my face instead. “I’m sorry, Jessica. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. This just didn’t feel right. Does this make any sense to you?”

“What’s happening to me, Bill?” she cried.

“I don’t know. You’re confused. I think you’re beautiful, but I also know you have had a terrifying night.”

“Now what?” she sniffed.

“Are you hungry, still? Do you want to go get a bite to eat?”

There was no answer. I prodded, “Jess, did you hear me? Are you hungry?”

“YESSsss!” she hissed with a voice that was no longer her own. The door opened up to reveal Jessica with longer hair, fingernails, and teeth. Her naked body was hunched over and she looked like… well, she looked like she was changing into a werewolf.

She ran out of her bathroom and knocked me over, onto my back. She pinned me down and immediately bit into my neck. She was too strong to push her off, and the longer she held me the weaker I got.

I was able to get one arm free, and pushed her away from my neck by choking her. She sat up and grabbed at me, which freed my other hand. I grabbed my silver ankh and shoved it in her mouth.

She screamed in pain as her mouth began to froth. She jumped back and looked more like the beauty she was than the beast that just attacked me. She howled and then started crying. Through sobs, she asked “What’s happening to me? What am I?”

I just laid there, bleeding, too weak to do anything after pushing her away. That was when I remembered, only too late, that the October Moon is also known as the Wolf Moon.

© Copyright 2000 by Daniel Shaurette

Diary Entry for October 13, 1998
It was during my surgery that I saw him again. Earlier that morning, around 6:10 AM, I thought I saw him then, too. But surely that was just my imagination running away with me during a vulnerable time. I was worried about my surgery, but at that point I was worried more about the fact that I had been sitting in the Pre-Op Waiting Area with my wife and father since 6:00 AM.

About every five minutes, a new patient would walk in, escorted by family and loved ones. I joined their ranks, so I was not concerned. But like clockwork, not five minutes after their arrival, a nurse would show up and ask for the recent arrival. The nurse would comfort the patient and family, making sure they had everything in order. It became very grim after a while. The patient would inevitably hug and kiss their loved ones like they were parting company forever, and then they were off.

I said I saw him then. I thought he was dressed in surgery scrubs -- blue and white clothing designed to equally protect patient and staff. He came to the waiting area like the other nurses. He looked at the patient's names. Did he shift them around, I asked myself. No. Just looking. Then he walked away.

I myself was never called in. By 6:30 AM I was very worried, to say the least. Of course Katie had been nudging me for the last ten minutes, saying, "Shouldn't they have called you in by now?" and "You should ask someone what is taking so long." I tried to console her and myself whispering back, "No, it's OK. It's a hospital, they know what they are doing," and "There must be some reason I'm not in yet. Surgery isn't until eight." But after the fifth or sixth patient had been sent back, my anger overruled my concern and patience.

To Katie I whispered, "I'll be right back." To my dad I said, "I'm going to find out what is going on." I stood up and half-sprinted back around the corner to the Registration Office -- more like a closet really -- and interrupted the nurse I had checked-in with at six, who was with another patient.

I didn't want to be rude -- always my nature, even when furious -- but didn't need to disturb them. The nurse, whose name was Barbara -- which by name alone set me at ease earlier in the morning -- immediately recognized me and knew I shouldn't be there. She looked up and said, "Didn't they call you in yet?"

Relieved in the obvious security of the moment, I said, "No, and I've been waiting for half an hour."

She looked at her watch and I could see her flesh turn white. Suddenly my concern jumped into her body. She said, "I'll call back there and someone will be right up."

"Thank you," was my reassured reply.

I walked back to the waiting room and reassured Katie and Dad that all was well and I should be taken care of soon. No sooner than I had sat down did a nurse come out and horribly butcher my name as usual, "Mister Shower-ette." I frowned. I jumped up at the arrival and quickly followed her back. In my haste I forgot to even say "Goodbye" to Katie, let alone give her a last kiss. I forgot where I was, lost in my worry that I was late for a very important date.

When I caught up to the nurse, and we rounded the other corner to Pre-Op, she honestly asked me, "Where have you been?"

My heart skipped a beat -- how dare she imply this was my fault. I bit my tongue and said, sweetly, "I have been waiting in there for half an hour. Nobody ever called for me."

She responded, "Well, I’m glad we have you now. We need to get you into a gown and get you prepped." She handed me a plastic bag with "Patient’s Belongings" written on it, and inside was a gown and foot covers. She pointed me to a bathroom and said, "You can change in there. Are you wearing any jewelry?"

Feeling naked already without my wedding ring and my ankh ring around my fingers. Nor did I have my chain with its silver ankh pendant that Katie had special-made for me with an amethyst mounted in it where the loop should be. I wasn’t even wearing my watch. I sighed, "No. No jewelry."

"Good," she said. "Come on out when you are ready."

I pulled the door shut behind me and looked around the sterile environment surrounding me -- and this was only the bathroom. I put down the bag and removed my clothing, throwing it all into a chaotic pile next to the door. I pulled out the gown and put it on. I tried to find all of the straps to tie everything down properly. I put on two of the foot slippers.

I say two because they gave me three. I had to assume there was an extra in case one tore, or perhaps one was given accidentally. The idea of some other poor soul only having one bootie made me chuckle. Then a horrible thought came to me -- I had seen other patients wearing a hair net cap and wondered if I hadn’t had one of those and put it on my foot by mistake. But upon examining them, all three appeared to be identical slippers.

I put all of my clothes on top of the spare slipper in the bag and let myself out of the bathroom. A different nurse had met me outside of the door. He stopped me and said, "Let me check your straps and make sure everything is secure."

I agreed, and it was a good thing because I had apparently mismatched the straps. When he told me they were wrong, I remarked, "Sorry, I wouldn’t want to offend anyone." He laughed.

He walked me over to my bed and I laid down. I tried to get comfortable on the skinny gurney-bed. When the original nurse passed by, I asked her, "So, are we too late?"

She said, "No, don’t worry about that. We’ll have you ready in no time. I’m still not sure why you weren’t called in earlier. We were about to send someone out to get you before Barbara called back here."

"Is it possible that the arrangement of patients could have gotten switched around?" I asked.

"That could have happened, there are a lot of names out there," she confirmed.

I reflected again on that nurse that I thought swapped names around. Was it him?

Katie and Dad eventually arrived to my bedside, after another nurse finished shaving my chest, "prepping" me for surgery on my stomach.

I had precious little time to spend with Katie and my Dad. I was lucky enough that they were both allowed back to see me. Normally, only one visitor is allowed. The time waiting in the bed seemed to go by too quickly. Before I was ready, I was kissing Katie and telling her I was going to be all right.

I remember being wheeled into the O.R. I remember meeting the anesthesiologist. I remember how white the operating room was. How sanitary, and frankly, how small. I remember moving over to the operating table. I remember remarking to the nurse, "I have a very technical question for you... do you have the machine that goes *bing*?"

She must not have been a Monty Python fan because she didn't get the joke. That was OK, I decided. I was happy that she spent her life studying medicine instead of watching British comedies. The last words I remember hearing were, "I'm going to start the drip now."

Black.
White.

Suddenly, I saw everything in the room. The surgeon was working on a patient. The nurse and anesthesiologist were attending to the patient. I realized that I was the patient and that I must not have been under. I tried to speak, but no one heard me. In fact, I couldn't hear them. I bit my lip and felt no pain.

I wanted to see what they were doing to me, and that was when I began to float above my body. I looked down and was comforted to find the procedure going well. Everyone was calm and efficient. That was when I saw him. When I looked at him standing in the corner, he smiled at me.

That was when I found myself at his side. He was wearing a white trench coat that almost seemed to glow from the inside. "Don't panic," he said.

"Here I am, standing outside my body talking to you, an Angel of Death, who I hoped I wouldn't see again for a very long time, during a simple operation, and you calmly tell me not to panic?!" I said furiously.

"That's my job," he said warmly.

"It's the rest of your job that worries me," I said.

"Don't worry," he reassured. "You're not going anywhere. At least not yet."

"Then why are you here?" I calmly asked.

"To make sure everything is back in order. Did you see me earlier?" he asked.

"In the waiting room." It was half-question, half-statement.

"Yup," he smiled. "Seems you were almost sent the wrong way, and might have died undergoing the wrong surgery. I had to reorganize the names on the waiting room desk. I was about to 'remind' a nurse to come get you when you decided you had enough."

"Somehow I knew something was up, but I never imagined that you were involved," I said surprised.

"Well, after everything we've been through, and my vow to protect you, I knew how important today was. You have been given a second chance... for the umpteenth time, my friend."

"I know," I said distantly, remembering old debts. Just then, I felt pain. I looked at my angel and said, "What is that?"

"Time for you to wake up," he said as he walked away.

White.
Black.
Pain.

I woke up drowsy and extremely thirsty. I asked anyone who would listen, "Can I have a Coke?" Seemed like a logical request -- the caffeine would wake me up, while the soda would quench my horrible thirst. Everyone else just laughed. Katie and my Dad thought it was an unusual request since this past year I have not been able to drink soda because the carbonation affects my acid reflux.

Well, the surgery should have changed all that. Not that I plan to run out and become a "Coca-Cola vampire" again, but at that moment, a Coke would have hit the spot.

That was the last time I would laugh at a joke for a few days. After the surgery, it hurt to laugh, to move, and sometimes to breathe. The nurse gave me a relaxant to relieve the pain, but all that did was make me sleep. When I woke up after that, I refused to give in to the pain. No matter how it hurt, I wouldn't ask for a more sedatives. Upon reflection, I think it was because I didn't want to see my angel again.

Was it a dream? An anesthesia-induced hallucination? Or was it real? Well, judging by the previous times I've seen him, I'm sure he was real enough to be a warning.

That being said, no matter how I plan, no matter how secure my surroundings, accidents happen. Life changes, and my guardian angels may be able to help, but I can't expect them to every time.

Life is precious. Sometimes it takes Death to show us this.
© Copyright 1998 Dan Shaurette