The Personal History of Lucius Marcell
Part III
Cindy slammed the trunk of the Ford Falcon. She had just managed to fit everything they would need for the trip into the miniscule space. Well, maybe not all of it, the back seat was acting as an overflow, but all of the important stuff, at least.
Trying not to stumble in the dark, she made her way back up to the house, where Marcell had just opened the door to grab a few last minute things.
“I got it,” she beamed.
“You did?” he asked, blinking.
She shoved her grin right in his face. “And you didn’t think I could.”
“I had my doubts,” he admitted. “I still can’t believe your mother was okay with this.”
Cindy shrugged. “I’m almost nineteen, I’m going to be in college in the fall. She has to let me grow up sometime. Plus, I told her I was going with some older friends. I think she’s just glad I have any at all. What I can’t believe is that you want to go with me.”
“Driving through the wilderness with a beautiful woman?” he smiled down at her, kissing her forehead. “How could I say no? Plus, I of all people should know how fleeting time can be, and everyone should experience as much as they can when they’re young.”
“Well, thank you again,” she ducked her head a little as they walked back down to the car.
He sighed as he opened the driver’s door. “I’m just sorry that you had to adjust your sleep schedule. You won’t see that much at night.”
“That’s alright,” she said. “It’s not like you can do much about it. It’s pretty hard to hide from the sun in a small car.”
The Ford Falcon purred to life, and Cindy watched out the window as they slowly left Ede Valley behind. There was silence for a few minutes after that.
“You alright?” Marcell asked finally.
Cindy nodded. “Yeah.”
“It’s hard leaving your home town, but it’s only for two weeks.”
“And somebody needs to go hunting for those pieces of the Truth. It’s not like Aurum could do it, and Niko and Tommy have their own things to deal with. How did Aurum track this one down again?”
“She read about it in a newspaper.” “They still make those?” Cindy blinked. Marcell just laughed. “Take your internets for granted all you want. I remember the times before printing presses.” “Sounds awful.” “It really was.” “Speaking of which, you haven’t told me any stories in quite a while...” He thought for a second. “I haven’t, have I? I guess with everything that’s been going on... do you still want to hear them?” “Absolutely,” Cindy said. She adored his stories. They were usually entertaining as hell, but beyond that, they made him a little more comprehensible; they allowed her to take this ancient, unfathomable creature, and maybe... understand him a little? Drumming on the steering wheel, Marcell paused for a moment. “Hmm, let’s see. What haven’t I told you yet?” “Didn’t you say you were in Paris during the revolution?” Cindy asked. “Before the revolution,” he corrected. “I fled as soon as that whole business started, only to be hunted down and brought back to be executed, but I digress.” “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Cindy interrupted. “Start at the beginning.” “Alright,” he consented. “I arrived in Paris in 1769, after spending the last decade or so in Britain. Unfortunately, there was a rare tablet that I desperately needed to get a look at that had just been shipped to Paris to be examined by some academics there, so away I went. “Now by this point I was quite ingratiated in England’s scholastic society, but had no pull of the sort in France. So my first few weeks there were spent banging my head against a brick wall trying to get them to let me look at it. Shortly afterwards, however I... became temporarily distracted.” “Was it by the city of love?” Cindy pouted her lips and batted her eyes somewhat mockingly. “No, but seriously though, was it cool? All those little cafes, the Eiffel Tower...” “Cindy, the Eiffel Tower was built in 1887...” “Oh yeah, that’s right. I kinda forgot.” “But no, it wasn’t by ‘the city,’ it was by the theatre.” She did a small double take. “The theater? I didn’t know you were into that.” “Not really anymore,” he admitted. “Now it’s far too ‘realistic’, too pretentious. Of course, the opera was just as pretentious, but at least it had a matching flair for the dramatic.” “Uh huh. So much like a magpie to a shiny coin, you were distracted by the theater?” “Not by the theatre, a theater. One night, an acquaintance I had met, uh, what was his name? Leonard, that’s right. Leonard invited me to attend the opera with him. “The show itself was nothing really special. I’d seen much better in Rome. At least, it was nothing special until the leading actress set foot on stage. Immediately the crowd was enraptured, you could hear a pin drop. Even without the assistance of the spotlight the world would have shrunk down to just her. And then... then she began to sing.” Marcell broke off, staring away into the middle distance. “That smitten, huh?” Cindy asked. She wasn’t really jealous of a dead woman, of course, but it was strange to hear him talk about someone else with such admiration. “Hmm?” he blinked. “Oh no, not at all. She was a vampire, of course, I could tell right away. No mere mortal could utterly captivate a crowd like that.” “I’ve never seen you captivate anyone.” Cindy raised an eyebrow. “Well, almost no one.” “I’m a... bit of an exception,” he admitted. “How so?” He almost seemed a little disappointed with himself. “I don’t often drink human blood. Animal blood works of course, but it’s like... subsisting solely on saltine crackers forever. It doesn’t give your body much to work with.” “So why do it?” Cindy ventured. “Well, besides the obvious moral dilemma, it makes it easier to be around people. The more human blood you imbibe, the more you crave it. Hence a ‘curse’. I’ve seen far too many of my kind devolve into nothing more than animals with human faces.” Cindy had to think about that one for a second. “Wow that’s... terrifying.” “Very,” he agreed. “But there are benefits as well. I’m no expert, but I once knew a vampire who was also a doctor and he tried to explain it to me. Apparently, we secrete some sort of hormone that attracts people to us. The more good blood we consume, the more powerful it is.” “So this actress had eaten... a lot of people.” Marcell took a deep breath. “Yes. Needless to say, I was morbidly curious. It’s like the crowd that gathers around an accident. It absolutely horrifies you, but you simply have to see. “Leonard must have seen me staring, because he leaned over to me. ‘Quite a beauty, hmm?’ I didn’t have the control over my throat to explain to him exactly why he thought that, so I simply nodded. ‘Her name is Jenny Jule. I could introduce you if you’d like. We have a certain... arrangement.’ “I don’t know for the life of me why I said yes,” Marcell shook his head. “You did?” “I did. And so after the show, after Jenny was bombarded with roses and many other flowers and the curtains went down, Leonard led me back to the dressing rooms. “If I hadn’t already known she was a two-penny actress in a rundown theater, I never would have guessed. She sat in that rickety wooden chair like a queen on her throne. Her cheap silk robe became a royal gown, and the dressing room was her court. The other actresses surrounded her like an entourage. Leonard and I were but lowly peasants as we approached. “’Leonard,’ she held out her hand for him to take and he did so like it was some sort of high honor. “’Mademoiselle Jule,’ he did not look away as he kissed her hand. “But she seemed only minimally interested in him, and instead turned to me. ‘And who is your friend?’ “’This is Lucius Marcell. He is an Englishman.’ He said this word with a disdain that only the French can muster. Perhaps he was hoping to win back her favor,” he added as Cindy gave him a questioning look. “Yet now she held her hand out to me. This whole time I was trying to determine if she knew I was one of our kind. That could be why she was staring. It was probably a little hard to tell since I didn’t have that usual vampire aura, at least not as strongly. She must have come to the proper conclusion by the time I too kissed her hand, and gave her a wary look. “’Welcome to my theater,’ she said only to me. ‘I was just about to take my evening meal. But I am not without hospitality. My flock is at your disposal. Take whichever one you fancy,’ She gestured back to the other actresses, and it was then I noticed how vacant their expressions were.” Cindy drew in a breath. “What had she done to them?” “It’s complicated to explain. Everyone tries to make their vampires ‘different’ nowadays so everything about us has gotten all muddled. Jenny fed on the actresses repeatedly, and in order to keep them docile, she would give them a small amount of her blood in return. I believe the best term is ‘thrall’.” “And her blood didn’t turn them into vampires?” “Don’t think of my condition like a disease. It is a curse. Only Death herself can make a true vampire. We as the cursed have a right to spread it if we so choose, but we must summon Death to ‘make it happen’. So our blood itself has no such power. But that’s not to say that it has no power at all. “It’s like a very powerful drug. It dulls the mind and numbs the senses, and is highly addictive. Take too much of it, and it will eventually destroy your mind entirely.” Slowly, Cindy nodded as she stuck the pieces together. “So she made crack whores.” Marcell had to pause for several seconds to process that. “Usually we prefer the term Blood Thrall... but that’s not... inaccurate.” “That’s disgusting.” “Absolutely despicable,” he agreed. “But, even I have to admit, as a method of food security it is rather ingenious. You wouldn’t be able to drink as much, in order to keep the victim alive and functioning, but that wouldn’t matter because you could eat every night if you so desired, depending on how many thralls you have at your disposal. “You’d never have to worry about where your next meal was coming from, you have willing victims as your beck and call so there’s no fuss...” Cindy’s stomach was beginning to churn at the words coming out of his mouth. “But—” she began. “But that’s only if you’re an immoral hellspawn with no regard for life or its value.” “So this Jenny Jule was...” “Just that,” Marcell continued. “I won’t say I wasn’t tempted to take her up on her offer, the actresses were willing and very beautiful at that, but I hadn’t eaten a human in a very long time and I wasn’t going to start now. “’I appreciate the hospitality but I’m afraid innocent actresses aren’t really to my taste.’ “She chuckled. ‘What an oxymoron, a predator with morals. Suit yourself.’ And without a further word she grabbed Leonard and sunk her teeth into his neck. A second later he collapsed to the ground and I thought he was dead. But then I saw him weakly grabbing at her ankles. She rolled her eyes and bit into her own arm before offering it down to him. ‘So impatient.’ She looked down at him with this... just disgust in her eyes, like he was a bug or something slimy on the sole of her shoe. “’That’s enough,’ she said after a moment, but the man wouldn’t stop sucking. ‘I said that’s enough!’ She kicked and he fell backwards onto the ground, the widest smile on his face. “And then she turned back to me. ‘And now that I’ve had my dinner, we can talk. You name is Lucius Marcell? A very foreign name indeed. A very old name.’ “’Roman,’ I admitted, and that gave her pause. I have only met a vampire older than myself once. Usually we starve to death or just simply give up and let the sun take us before we get that old.” “So why are you still here?” Cindy asked. He took his eyes off the road for a split second to look at her. “Because every time it’s felt like the end, a purpose has come along to keep me here. “Now, Jenny was slightly hesitant, because most vampires as old as I am are incredibly powerful. What she didn’t know was, apart from a few relapses, I had spent a majority of my existence subsisting off of vermin. Of course, I was not about to tell her any of this. “’And what brings you to my humble lair?’ “’I simply had to see for myself how a stage actress could have such a... presence.’ “’I’ve cultivated this home for myself very carefully.’ “’It’s frankly remarkable,’ even I had to admit that. ‘For you to have such a public presence...’ “’I’ve always been an actress. I’ve traveled all of Europe, performed for kings and queens. But when the business changed, well, I had to adapt.’ “’So you learned to create thralls and made yourself a cozy little nest here, hm?’ “She sighed then, almost looked a little wistful. ‘It was always so easy when troupes traveled. But for me and the business, this is much more... secure.’ “’And those thralls of yours, do you mind?’ I took a step towards one of the vacant-eyed young actresses, and she waved me on. I tried my hardest to approach the topic nonchalantly. It was clear she had a very low view of people and would not respect anyone who disagreed. I’m not sure how well I succeeded, but if she saw anything remiss she didn’t comment. “I approached one of the girls, a small, thin thing. She was probably very young but her hollow cheeks and anemic visage made her appear much older. I lifted her chin as if examining her, mostly to give myself an excuse to lean my face close to hers. “’You can have your way with her if you so desire,’ Jenny interrupted. ‘She won’t fight. Though that one was especially hard to break.’ “’That is not my intention. I simply want to admire your handiwork.’ I resumed my leaning closer and whispered into the actresses ear: ‘Do you need help?’ “I felt her tense, and then, give the smallest of nods. I pulled away quickly and turned back to Jenny. ‘This is all quite marvelous. What would you ever do if you were to lose this place?’ “’Why then I would let the sun have me. I couldn’t do this all again.’ “’A truly daunting task that would be.’ I tipped my hat. ‘And now, mademoiselle Jule, I must bid you good morning.’” “So you left?” Cindy interjected. “Yes.” “Just like that?” “Just like that.” “But the actress, and all the others?” She was becoming slightly distraught. “You just left them?” “Of course not,” he said. “I walked out of the door of the theater, straight over to the constabulary, and informed the police that there was a drug ring operating out of the theater.” “Not prostitution?” Cindy asked. “That’s seems a little more accurate.” He just laughed. “This was Paris. During the bread famine. They wouldn’t have batted an eye at prostitution. There were prostitutes blatantly selling themselves out on the open streets.” “But drugs had to be stopped.” “Exactly. So I went back to my hotel, content that the problem had been rectified. The girls would be rescued and everything would be fine.” But Cindy saw the look in his eyes and sighed. “That’s not how it went down, is it?” Marcell took a moment before continuing. “I was down near the alley of the kitchens, trying to catch my supper, when I began to smell smoke. And then there was a scream. I made my way towards the commotion, but froze as I came to the street. Just down the block, the theater was aflame.” “What?” Cindy blurted. “Wait. You’re not telling me that Jenny...” “—set the building on fire?” His only response was a deep sigh. “But that’s crazy!” Cindy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Why on earth...” “That’s what I wanted to know,” Marcell continued. “So I ran down the street and into the burning theater. The light from the fire stung, but it isn’t as bad as natural sunlight, and it’s not like I could die from smoke inhalation. “The building was, of course, collapsing, so it was difficult to make my way through the atrium and into the theater itself. And that’s where I found her. “She was sitting calmly on stage, the fire rising around her. Distantly, I could hear the screams of the other actresses. I called out to her, and as she heard my voice she looked up and her expression shifted from serene to sour. “’You’re the one who’s done this to me, yes?’ she asked. ‘Why are you here?’ “’When I saw the fire I came running. Why? Why do this?’ “At that, she just laughed. ‘I told you: I can’t go back out there in the world of man again. Better to die here with my dignity than become some sort of sewer scavenger.’ “’But this fire? How could you take these girls down with you?’ “’They were my property, Monsieur Marcell. Why would I let some other, lesser bloodsucker get their hands on them?’” Marcell paused as he could feel Cindy about to interject, which she then did. “That’s... I don’t understand she... killed those girls. How?” “They weren’t girls to her. They were things, cattle,” he tried to explain. “The longer you’re one of us, the more... alien your mindset tends to become.” “And is that how you think of us?” Cindy prodded. “Am I just cattle?” One of his hands left the steering wheel and squeezed her thigh. “Never,” he said. “In fact, that moment was when I realized how much of an oddball I really was. Jenny’s actions would have made perfect sense to another vampire. And in that moment I wondered how I was still able to think like a person after all those years.” “Well for one thing, you don’t eat us on a regular basis,” Cindy supplied. He laughed. “Possibly. Regardless, there was nothing else I could say to Mademoiselle Jule. She had resigned herself to death once the theater burned down and the sun came up. “So all I could do was wave and say ‘Farewell, Jenny.’ “She nodded back, and that was all. I walked back out of the theater with the intention of packing my bags and leaving Paris immediately. But then, just as I was about to leave the atrium again, I heard a voice. I almost tripped over her.” “There was someone still alive?” Cindy’s eyes widened. “Yes, and as I leaned down to grab her, I saw that lo and behold, she was the actress who had earlier asked for help. I recognized her large, blue eyes. The smoke had gotten to her, she was coughing pitifully, and a burn crawled up the side of her face. “I picked her up and carried her out of the theater, to where dawn was nearly breaking...” He fell silent, and stayed that way for a long time. “So?” Cindy asked. “Then what happened?” “I... think that’s enough stories for one night,” he finished, oddly reticent. “You can’t just leave it like that!” Cindy protested. “Actually,” he grinned wryly, “I can. And besides, there’ll be plenty of time for stories later. For now, it’s been a while since we’ve really gotten to talk. How’s your family? Tommy? How’s Mike holding up?” Cindy sighed. He wasn’t very subtle about changing the subject, but she’d let it slide this one time. So she began to speak as the wind whistled outside the car and they continued to drive through the night...
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