The Blood Bond

The Lecture

Present day, University of California, Berkeley,



“I just love her lectures.”

“The woman is crazy.”

“Her lecture on Big Foot was hilarious and completely on point.”

“I’m just saying the woman is nuts.”

“That may be true, but you have to admit; she is funny as hell.”

“All right, people, find your seats as we have a long lecture to get through,” Isadora De’Hon said, placing her briefcase on her desk. This was going to be one of her last lectures of the semester. Everything was already planned. She had given notice to her department head and found a graduate student to cover the remaining semester. All she had to do was finish this class, and then she could go home. She’d already procrastinated long enough.

As a Professor of Mythology and Folklore, she was one of the foremost experts in her field and she loved her job. Her whole life she surrounded herself with strange and unimaginable things that went bump in the night. Her desire to learn more started young when she was merely a small girl after she had heard her parents died in a mysterious fire. Her only remaining relative, her grandfather, indulged her fancy. Together they would spend many hours researching and studying the strange darkness that lurked in the world. All of her happiest memories were of her and her grandfather, scouring the world, searching for proof that just one of the world's mysteries was real. At one point, she believed they were one in the same, with the identical cause that drove them perilously to discover the unknown, but she was wrong. Her grandfather was only humoring her. She knew that now.

The time came for her to search on her own. To find her own clues and maybe the real truth behind her parent’s death.

Looking up at the clock, she noted the time. Knowing she couldn’t back out, she gathered her materials and got ready to work. The lecture hall quieted down and when the doors finally shut, she walked to the podium. “Get comfortable folks, because I am going to tell you a fairy tale. Before I do that, can anyone tell me who Pythia is?”

Immediately, several hands were raised. Pointing to a young female student in the front row, Isadora nodded. The eager student stood and said, “Pythia is the Oracle of Delphi. Pythia sat at the Temple of Apollo at Delphi, located on the slopes of Mount Parnassus, beneath the Castalian Spring.”

“And who knows how this priestess was nominated?”

A student in the back of the hall replied, “A priestess isn’t nominated. She was chosen after the death of the current priestess.”

“Correct,” Isadora smiled and continued. “Now for my fairy tale. Once upon a time, there was a hero named Ambrogio, who was born and raised in Italy. An adventurer, our hero, longed to travel to Greece to have his fortune told by the Oracle at Delphi.

“When he was old enough to travel, he boarded a boat and sailed to the western edge of Greece, near Astakos. He went east until he reached the city of Delphi. Eager to have his fortune read, he made his way to the temple and sought out Pythia. The Pythia, whose words have often been cryptic, said only a few words to him. They were... The curse. The moon. The blood will run.

“Now I don’t know about all of you, but if I had a psychic say those exact words to me, I’d run for the hills and never look back. However, did our hero do that?”

The classroom laughed and replied, “No.”

“That’s right. He didn’t. Nope, instead of fleeing, our hero thought about what the Oracle said to him until the sun rose the next morning and, like all good stories, this is where our heroine enters.”

The room chuckled.

“Pondering what the Oracle said to him, our hero decided to head back to town for more information. Enter the beautiful maiden. Our heroine was dressed in flowing white robes as she made her way to the temple. Like any man smitten or possibly desperate for a distraction, he ran to her and introduced himself. Our heroine’s name was Selene, a maiden of the temple and, just for some added fun, the sister to the Oracle. So, for the next few days, every morning, our hero met with our heroine at dawn before she entered the temple and guess what happened?”

“They fell in love.” The audience responded eagerly.

“Exactly!” Isadora smiled. “They were so in love and would you believe that he even asked her to marry him? And like all fairy tales, she accepted. So, we’ve talked about our hero’s background, a portentous prediction and our hero and heroine have fallen in love. What have I missed?”

“The villain,” a student shouted.

“That’s right! We can’t have a fairytale without a villain. The villain of our story is none other than Apollo. That’s right folks, if you’re going to piss off someone, why not go big and piss off a God. Well, it seemed that Apollo, the Sun God, was also in love with our beautiful heroine. When Apollo found out that Selene had eyes for a mortal man, he got enraged. Now isn’t that a shocker? A God who is a greedy bastard. Therefore, late one night, our villain appeared to Ambrogio and cursed our hero so that the mere touch of sunlight would burn his skin.

“Our hero was so distraught he fled, but did he run home to nurse his sorrowful heart? Nope, he ran to someone more ominous. Who can tell me who hated the God’s of Olympus more than any other?”

“Hades!” the room shouted.

“Nailed it on the first try,” Isadora grinned. “Our hero ran to Hades for protection of all people. Enter villain number two. Now we all know Hades is the God of the Underworld and a total pain in the ass. However, Mr. Congeniality listened to our hero and made him a deal. Now, who besides me, thinks this was a mistake of epic proportions?”

Instantly the whole lecture hall raised their hands.

“Hades said, if our hero could steal the Silver Bow of Artemis and bring it back, he would grant our hero and his love protection in the underworld. Now I can’t speak for our heroine, but the thought of living happily ever after in hell does not sound appealing. To sweeten the deal, Hades gave our hero a wooden bow and eleven arrows to hunt with. However, to make sure our hero came back, Hades took our hero’s soul until he returned with the bow. If our hero failed, then he would live eternity in hell. Apparently, even the God’s wanted their pound of flesh. So, now that our hero had a newfound pep in his step, he left Hades and went hunting to acquire the Bow of Artemis. However, before he could leave, he thought of Selene. Now, he couldn’t just leave without telling her where he was going, so our hero decided to leave her a message.

“But guess what? Our hero couldn’t send her a quick text since cell phones weren’t around back then, so he did the only thing he could do at the time. He wrote her a letter. He took his new bow and arrow and killed a swan. He used a feather as a pen, and the blood as the ink explaining that he would find a way for them to be together.

“So this melodrama went on for forty-four nights. Talk about devotion. On the forty-fifth night or so, our hero had only one arrow left. Knowing he wasn’t going to get the Bow of Artemis, he decided to write his love one last note. He took his last remaining arrow, he took his shot and missed. What does our hero do? Instead of dealing with his failure like a real hero, he fell to the ground and wept.  Now this is where things get interesting. Artemis, the Goddess of Hunting, Wilderness, Wild Animals and Child Birth took pity on our hero and agreed to let him borrow her silver bow and an arrow.

“This is the point where our hero has a brain aneurysm because he took the bow of Artemis and ran to Hades. When Artemis realized what our hero had done, she cast her own curse, causing all silver burn his skin. Our hero dropped the silver bow and fell to the ground in pain. Now I ask you, is it me, or are the Gods doing everything in their power to keep our hero away from his heroine?”

The room laughed.

“I wish I could say this pitiful fairytale ended here, but nope, our hero wasn’t ready to give up. Furious with his own deceit towards the kind God, our hero begged Artemis for forgiveness. After a lengthy explanation, Artemis took pity on our hero again and gave him one last chance. She offered to make him a great hunter, with the speed and strength of a god and fangs with which to drain the blood of the beasts to write his letters.”

Instantly the lecture hall started to murmur. Isadora took this moment to let everything she said sink in. She was telling a story after all and she knew halting for dramatic effect would capture their attention when she started speaking again. After a few seconds, she said, “In exchange for our hero’s immortality, our hero had to flee with his heroine and worship only Artemis forever. However, like everything in life, there was a catch. Since Artemis was a virgin goddess, all of her followers had to remain chaste and unmarried. So our hero would never be able to touch his love again. They could never kiss, never touch, and never have children. So guess what our hero did?”

A young woman raised her hand and said, “He agreed.”

“Bingo. After all that crap he just went through, our hero agreed just so he and his ladylove could be together. The hero kills another swan, and sends the heroine a note, telling her to meet him on a ship at the docks. Before dawn the next morning, the heroine saw the note and ran away before Apollo could notice. When the heroine arrives at the dock, she finds a wooden coffin with a note on it. After reading the letter, she told the ship’s captain to set sail. After the sun had set, she opened the coffin to find her hero alive and well.

“I wish I could tell you that our couple lived happily ever after, but with all those curses hanging over our hero’s head, that was not the case. After a number of years, our hero’s immortality allowed him to stay young, but our heroine continued to age. She finally fell ill and on her deathbed, she begged her hero to kill her. Once again, our hero was distraught, knowing that he would not be able to join his love in the afterlife because his soul still resided with Hades in the underworld. That night, our hero went into the woods and found a white swan swimming alone in a small lake. He killed the bird and offered it to Artemis, begging her to make his love immortal so they could stay together forever.

“Artemis made our hero one last deal. She told our hero that he could touch his love just once, but he had to drink her blood. Doing so would kill her mortal body, but from then on, her blood mixed with his could create an eternal life for any who drank of it. If he did this, Artemis would see to it that they stayed together forever. Now our hero wanted to refuse, but after telling the heroine what happened, she begged him to do it. Eventually, he bit her neck and took her blood into his body. As he set her limp body down, our heroine began to radiate with light and rose up to the sky. Our hero watched as her glowing spirit lifted to meet Artemis on the moon. When she arrived, the moon lit up with a brilliant light.

“Our heroine became the Goddess of Moonlight. Every night she would reach down with her rays of light and finally touch her beloved hero as well as all of their children, the newly created vampires who carried the blood of Ambrogio and Selene. The end.”

“Are you saying that Ambrogio was the first vampire?” a student asked.

“Well, what do you think? Our hero can’t walk in the sunlight, he has no soul, silver burns his skin and he drinks blood. If that’s not a vampire, then I don’t know what it is.”

“But the first vampire was said to be Vlad the Impaler,” another student spoke up.

“The Scriptures of Delphi.” Taking a moment to pause again, gaining the attention of the classroom before her, she took a deep breath and began, “The story behind our fairytale is almost as mysterious as the writings themselves. Furthermore, the Vampire Bible is the only record in history that has been found to give us any origin of the undead. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Could there really be vampires in the world? Is it true or just a fabled story to scare children at night?” She paused for dramatic effect, letting the audience think about what she asked. When she knew she had captured their undivided attention, she continued.  

“According to vampire lore, the first ever recorded vampire was not Vlad the Impaler but our hero Ambrogio. That’s right folks. The first vampire wasn’t some mean European bastard who cut the heads off his victims, and it definitely wasn’t some sparkly vampire named Edward.”

The audience laughed.

“The honor of being the first vampire goes to our Italian adventurer whose fate brought him to Delphi, Greece, where he suffered an unfortunate demise. History is wrought with tales of dark, spooky beings that slither in the night, drinking the blood of their victims. How is our fairytale any different from what our history tells us?”

“Because vampires aren’t real,” a deep gravelly voice said. Instantly the lecture hall quieted. Looking for who said the words, Isadora felt a shiver of unease course through her body. The spoken voice wasn’t that of a student rapt with intrigue. It belonged to a man of certainty. Unable to locate the voice, Isadora asked, “And can you prove that they aren’t? History is drowning with stories of the undead. From all over the earth, every culture has some fable of demons sucking blood, or the sun setting the damned on fire. Can you honestly tell me that all of these cultures are wrong?”

“It is widely known that vampires, werewolves, all matters of things that go bump in the night as you said earlier Professor, are nothing more than fictitious stories to frighten children. As a professor of Mythology, I assumed you would have better knowledge of that fact than to fall into the wishing well.”

The students in the lecture hall snickered and started whispering among themselves. Isadora had never been confronted in such a way and definitely not in front of her pupils. She was the foremost expert, the best in her field. If she said there were vampires, people believed her. Well, at least she thought they did. She knew that her line of study was considered a farce in the academic field, but she never once believed she would be called out in public and be accused of being a liar.

“Sir, this is a lecture on mythology and folklore, nothing more. It is my job to give the students something to deliberate about, to open their minds to the possibility of what if? To help them broaden their range of discovery. Now, if you please, I have a class to teach.”

“Oh, please continue,” The man, said. “I am finding your beliefs rather stimulating.” Ignoring the man’s jibe, Isadora took a deep breath and continued. “In 2006, archeologists in Italy discovered a 1576 grave of medieval Venetian plague victims and the remains of what they believed to have been a female vampire. During the Middle Ages, plague victims were buried in mass graves. What made this mass burial so astonishing was the fact that a woman lay on top with a brick forced into her jaw. Now we all know that with more bodies piling up, it wasn’t uncommon for people to dig up previous graves to add more bodies. When they did this, sometimes corpses had dark, blood-like substances under their noses and mouths. Today we know this as the body decomposing. However, back then, it was believed to be a sign that the bodies were vampires. Therefore, to stop the further spread of the plague, bricks or rocks were shoved into the corpse’s mouth. Archeologists believe this site is evidence of that practice.”

“But finding a mass grave of plague victims isn’t conclusive evidence that vampires exist,” a student offered.

“That’s true, but that isn’t the only evidence. In London, England, in the late 1960s, a tall figure with red eyes was spotted and repeatedly reported at Highgate Cemetery. In 1971, a young girl passing the cemetery was attacked by a very lanky, white-faced dark figure that threw her to the ground so hard that she suffered from scrapes on her arms and legs.”

“That could have been a deranged attacker, anyone,” another student said.

“In 2007, an elderly woman was lynched by a group of villagers who suspected her of being a Higue, an evil spirit that drinks the blood of babies. In Guyanese culture, a Higue is a spirit that can shift into the shape of an old woman and enter homes by passing through keyholes. This belief has roots in the Obeah religion, which is still practiced. Are all of these people wrong?

“Furthermore, in India, they believe Kali or, in her most famous pose, Dakshania Kali became drunk on the blood of her victims and danced over their bodies. Then there is Peter Plogojowitz from Serbia who died in the 1700’s. Ten weeks after his death, nine people died mysteriously. However, before their deaths, they reported seeing Mr. Plogojowitz demanded food. After Mr. Plogojowitz’s body was exhumed, he was reported to be breathing and that his eyes were open and moving. A stake was rammed through his heart, and his body burned. And let’s not forget Countess Elizabeth Bathory of Hungary.”

“But she was bat-s**t crazy,” a student interjected. “Yes, she bathed herself in the blood of virgins, but there is no record of her drinking the blood, and she died a natural death after she was walled inside her castle alive.”

“So, where’s the proof, professor?” Another student asked. “If vampires exist, shouldn’t there be more deaths, more bodies, blood c*****e?”

“Have you not been to a hospital lately? Blood is no longer stored within the human body. Today, all anyone has to do is enter a hospital and blood is readily available. Thanks to modern age technology if vampires exist, all they need to do is visit a blood bank. There are literally thousands of vampire legends throughout history. Nearly every single culture on the face of the earth has some kind of myth about the undead that can relate back to vampire mythology. Naturally, the legends are not all consistent with one another, although there are many common threads throughout the various cultures. In order to take a more analytical view on vampirism, we must do a little scientific-style hypothesizing. Your assignment is to find some physical evidence in history that vampires existed and then make me believe it. It’s a pro-con paper folks. Make it a good one. I want to be enthralled.” With that, she ended her lecture to the groans and moans of her students.

Looking at her watch again, Isadora sighed. Her lecture had run longer than she expected. She was going to miss her plane if she didn’t hurry. Grabbing her briefcase, she was about to make a hasty exit when that deep male voice halted her in her tracks. “That was an interesting lecture, Isadora.”

Turning, Isadora said nothing as the man in question walked out of the shadows. He looked like some mythical God she taught about. The suit he wore was perfectly tailored to his body, accentuating every muscle beneath. His long black hair was loose, flowing around him, giving him a darkness that she’d never seen. His eyes were blue as a spring sky and his lips were plump and red. He was haunting and yet, there was something about him that she didn’t like.

“Do you really believe all that crap you just said?” He asked, smiling at her.

Now she knew what it was about him she didn’t like…his ego, not to mention his false, condescending smile that seemed to enchant and aggravate her to her core. She couldn’t explain how she felt because one minute she wanted to swoon at his feet and the next she wanted to punch him in his face. She didn’t like him, yet he was interesting, and she wanted to know more about him.

“I must say that part, where you tied in the Scriptures of Delphi with vampirism, was intriguing, but don’t you think you’re over-reaching? There is no irrefutable evidence that vampires exist.”

“That’s why it’s a myth.”

“Don’t you think you should leave the mythology to the experts and return to your beloved Big Foot?”

“I am a professor of Mythology…Mr.?”

“Oh, please forgive me,” The stranger said, bowing before her as if he were some courtly knight hoping to quell her anger. Too bad for him, it wasn’t working. “Steven Thomas at your service.”

“You interrupted my lecture, Mr. Thomas,” she scoffed.

“And you sent your students on a wild goose chase, Professor.”

“And what a chase it will be,” she smiled. “I’m sorry Mr. Thomas, but I have other matters to attend to. Was there something relevant you needed?”

“Oh, I just wanted to meet the foremost professor in Mythology and Folklore.”

“Well, you’ve met me,” she ground out, silently chastising herself for being rude. It wasn’t in her nature to be so, but something about the man instantly had her guard up. She wished she could stay and figure out what it was he wanted, but she needed to get home. She was wasting precious minutes. The longer Mr. Thomas took being cryptic with his words, the longer she was going to be. So, she quickly put an end to their conversation and said, “I must be going.”

“We’re not done talking,” he said obscurely, moving closer to her as he looked her directly in the eyes. It was a funny feeling, staring at his iris as they partly enlarged. If she hadn’t been looking directly at him, she might have missed it.

Blinking, she grinned and replied, “Another time then, possibly when I get back.” Placing her bag over her shoulder, she grabbed her briefcase and turned to leave.

Shocked, Mr. Thomas smarted, slightly bowed again and then said, “Good day, Isadora.”

                                                     ****

University Avenue to Interstate 80 South was without a doubt a pain in the ass. Come five o’clock in the afternoon, like most areas in California, traffic was a headache. However, most places only had to deal with human adults’ eager to get home. She had to deal with toddlers barely able to drive, let alone make rational decisions. While most students were free to expand their minds and enjoy a plethora of knowledge at their fingertips, they preferred to let loose instead. Isadora could never understand how exceptional students could go from serious learning to hijinx in a matter of seconds. If she didn’t know any better, they believed they were entitled to have fun. What they failed to realize was that their entitlement was courtesy of their parents. Then again, what did she know? Her parents died when she was still a baby.

Regardless, none of it mattered. She was going to be late. Kicking herself for not rescheduling, she tried to weave in and out of traffic. Thanks to the gridlock, she was stuck. It was going to take her at least an hour to get through this mess and another thirty minutes to get home.

Home. What a funny word, she thought. For so many, the word home meant many different things, but for her, she never really knew what it meant. Oh, her grandfather did everything he could, to give her the semblance of a home, but she never really felt that was where she belonged. She couldn’t explain it; it was just how she felt. When most kids were happy and loved, Isadora felt as if something was missing from her life. For a long time, she believed it was her parents. As she got older, she realized it was something more like she was never meant to be the girl whose parents died after she was born.

That inclination was only heightened when her dreams started. Some would say they were nightmares, but to Isadora, they were glorious visions of dark, mysterious things. Things she couldn’t explain and when she tried to talk to her grandfather about them, he would only say she was mourning her parents. It wasn’t until she was about thirteen or so that her grandfather allowed her to accompany him on one of his business trips. It was then she knew her dreams were not just dreams. They were images of a dark past she knew nothing about.

She never told her grandfather, knowing it would only upset him. Instead, she started researching herself. She could still remember the first time she bought her initial book on ghosts and the supernatural. It was exciting, intriguing and a little scary, but she read every word and then bought another.

She was fifteen years old when her grandfather found her new obsession. By then, it was too late. She was hooked and instead of persuading her to find another pastime, he indulged her. She should have known back then what he was really trying to do, but she was naïve, she wanted to believe that he was helping her. After that, she accompanied her grandfather on most of his business trips. He even went as far as scheduling them during her summer months and vacation times, so she could go. She loved those times, but now they were meaningless to her, a distraction to field her off in another direction. 

What her grandfather didn’t know was that she was a believer. She knew in her heart that she was on to something and, by this time tomorrow, she was going to change the course of her history. She had everything set and no one, not even her grandfather, was going to stop her from going.

The sun was setting as she pulled into her grandfather’s driveway. Looking up at the sky, she smiled, loving the bold reds, oranges and yellows of the night’s sky. Sunset was one of her favorite times of the day. According to legend, it was believed that a red sky at night meant delight for Sheppard’s and sailors alike. If that was the case, it was an affirmation that she was doing the right thing.

Gathering her things, Isadora walked towards the house.