17 - Josep
Here is a body, here is a soul.
Take it, do as you will.
Iwalk towards the oily, black disc hovering the air before me. I have Little Baby by the wrist so she comes too. She’s writhing, and resisting, and screaming as she attempts to plant her feet into the rough, rocky ground, trying to pull free from my grip. But when I am this close to the Darkness, I lose any sense of everything around me. So my world has gone mute.
I have a good hold of her though. She’s not getting away. Even if she did, there’s nowhere to go. We are in the Dark House now. We are in the Dark World. The only way out is up and the only way up is with wings.
My fingertip comes up and makes a mark on the slick surface of the Dark disc. I scratch out my name—not in a human language, but in the symbols of my maker. To it, I am not Josep. I am a circle—all vampires are represented by circles—with a lineright down the center that oversteps its bounds on either end. Then, along the line encompassed inside the circle, I scratch many more circles. Nine, to be exact. Attached to the circles are other designs, ancient letters that no one remembers. But when we are born, when the transformation is truly complete, there is a name carved on our black hearts.
And if someone were to open me up, they would see it. A vein of gold in this exact design.
This is the name the Darkness gave me.
I make the sign for me, pushing the tip of my now-clawed finger into the oil slick, parting it as I draw. When I’m done I make the sign for Paul too, because I’m not even here for me. None of this is about me. It was always Paul’s idea and the Darkness needs to know that. It has forsaken him. That happened hundreds of years ago now. But whenever I come down here, I remind it that Paul exists and this gift is really from him. I make the Darkness remember Paul.
Once that is done, I turn back to Little Baby, unmuting her.
“Please! Please!” She’s screaming and begging. “No! No!” Saying very little, but her message is being conveyed just fine. She does not want to be here. And while I haven’t told her anything about what comes next, obviously, she knows. I mean, at this point, there are only two ways this ends.
With her staying here and with her leaving.
She absolutely knows she’s not leaving here.
At least not yet.
I yank her arm, pulling it hard enough to slip her shoulder out of the joint. Which wasn’t my intention, obviously, since I’m trying to quiet her and this just makes her scream louder. “I’m sorry.” I say this as I pop her shoulder back in. “I don’t often live in this form, so I forget how strong I am. I just need you to be quiet, Little Baby. This is a solemn experience you’re about togo through. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Take it all in, girl. Don’t miss a moment. Because it will never happen again.”
She went quiet the moment I started talking. And now she’s just staring at me. She blinks. “What?”
“Lie down on the ground.”
“Why? What are you gonna do?” She’s calmer now, but it’s not a true calm. Just a state of shock.
“You’re going to the Darkness, Little Baby.” I nod my head at the undulating oil slick hovering in the air behind me. “You’re a gift. An offering. A sacrifice.” I’ve got her locked now, her eyes on mine. Entranced. I take a step forward, pressing my monstrous body right up against hers as I continue to look down, bewitching her with my eyes. Then I kiss her and with that kiss I make a promise, whispering, “You have not been forsaken,” before pulling back.
She falls limp now and I catch her in my arms so I can carefully lay her down on the ground. I position her body. Legs spread, arms wide, back straight. Then I take off the remains of the tattered threads that used to be her clothes.
I pause here—it’s been a long time since Paul and I made an offering like this. So I take a moment to reflect on what I have set out to accomplish here.
Then I suck in a breath and start carving. I trace my claw through Little Baby’s skin, marking my name on her first—a big symbol, right over her chest. Then I mark Paul’s name just below that, on her belly. All the other carvings are nothing more than artistic embellishments. To add power, or direct it, or whatever. Paul didn’t care. Didn’t have any opinions on this part. He’s never been much of an artist when it comes to the Dark Death. But he’s only done it once and that was the source of all his problems back in the Old World.
Let’s just say his artistic vision doesn’t match up with mine.
I like to take my time with the symbols I carve into the skin. The Darkness, after all, doesn’t care about time. If you take ten seconds to mark your offering or ten years, it wouldn’t notice. It’s not alive, you see. Not really. Not the way humans are. Not the way I am. It’s just… an interdimensional medium. A metaphor for God, or the opposite, if that’s your preference.
But it does have desires. If one can call them that. It desires creativity and ideas. Because it has none of its own. It’s merely existing without us. The vampire gives the Darkness meaning, and in return the Darkness makes the vampire a creator. A god. It gives us the power to bring our imaginations to life.
Again, Paul and I differ here. He is inclined to make monsters. Hideous, ugly, evil things.
While I am inclined to make beauty. I like refined symmetry and graceful elegance. Though my creations, in the eyes of everyonebutme, are horrible as well.
I lie down on my side next to Little Baby, propping myself up on my left elbow so I can use the razor-sharp claw on my right fingertip to make symbols. I make some ritualistic ones that have magical meanings. Sigils I have come up with over the years to focus and convey energy, and strength, and courage. Then I just draw pictures. A sun, a moon, stick people. Me, and Paul, and Lucia—even though she’s gone. I never disliked her. She wasn’t a friend, but she was useful and always there. Part of the plan, but separate as well. Still, I use Little Baby’s body to say my goodbyes. Then I carve two more figures—Ryet and Syrsee. We lost one, but we gained two.
One step back, two steps forward. It worked out.
I draw a house. A house that will be our house. A place, finally, to settle and start the dynasty of the American Vampire. I can’t make it very grand—there is only so much skin I can carve up on this girl’s body. I could turn her over, carve up theback too, but it would be unnecessary. So I make a simple house because our dreams are rather simple.
