Adamant Spirits

October 31, 2015

October 31, 2015

Shrieks and screams melded with deep moans and cackling laughs. They echoed through the blocked off urban streets, capturing the essence of the manic race and celebration. Another twenty minutes till midnight and the last of the Halloween festivities would wind to a conclusion. Just one of many things Aestan hated about the season. The only thing worse was that, aside from a few aisles of turkeys and an overabundance of food commercials, everything would shift over to Christmas. The golems always loved their holidays even when they forgot their significance.

He kept his strides long and smooth, avoiding the large patches of pale-peach light. It was hard to stay steady when the thirst raged within him, tightening his throat and weakening his focus. It had been days since he’d had even the slightest refreshment, and he couldn’t wait any longer without risking a full catatonic state. If tonight wasn’t successful, he’d have to resume hunting.

That thought sent a dull pain to his chest. No matter how much he disliked golems he didn’t like hunting them.

The steel chain-link fences and barricades blocked off the Annual Leander Heights Zombie Race and Blood Drive from the rest of Leander Heights. The silver trailer with the small collapsible booths out front for the blood drive sat at the back, unguarded for the moment.

Summer, his neighbor, stood a short distance away, a large black and orange bowl tucked under one arm as she spoke with someone dressed as a mummy. She wore a space pirate costume today with a fake dragon-parrot-mutant fastened to her shoulder and a pirate hat with a three-foot turquoise plume. Every time she laughed, the plume bounced.

He paused, watching her. She was the reason he even knew about the race/blood drive.

Summer was one of the few golems he could stand. Actually, she was more of a sprite. Well, not exactly. He’d never met a real sprite. They all vanished long, long before his time. But within a month of meeting Summer, he’d concluded she was more sprite-like than anyone else. Besides only a sprite would be tenacious and mystical enough to uncover his birthday and then insist on throwing a surprise party that fooled even him. Of course...it was also golem-like of her to not discover the year he had been born. Or perhaps she had found it and presumed it was wrong. Now if she would just turn her head, he wouldn’t have to—

As if on cue, she turned, lifting her hand to make some dramatic point in a story.

He slid through the shadows, twisted the trailer door open, and slipped inside. The door clicked shut.

The shrieks and shouts faded behind him in the sterile silence. One thing Second Life Hope had always excelled at was keeping a clean workspace: sleek fridges filled with fresh donations, slim laptops stacked in a bin, and cabinets filled with needles, tubes, bottles, and medical supplies. The pale grey walls merged with the charcoal tile floor, perfect calm and silence. He relished it, resisting the urge to tear open the fridge and gorge himself. Focus was essential. It wasn’t just about this night. It was about many nights. A future. His life.

He set his metal cooler on the table in the back room and unfastened the lid. He’d done this so many times he knew precisely how long this would take: six minutes and thirteen seconds. The lid clicked open, and he began making his selection. Typically in an endeavor like this, he preferred taking the blood after it had been screened, processed, and packaged as that was the safest route. Provided one didn’t prefer it wild or raw, which did taste better. For now, he just needed what he could get. He’d conduct his own tests when he returned home. Desperation dulled the swiftness of his movements.

Suddenly, the air shifted and sounds intensified. He paused, his hand still on the fridge door.

“Aestan...what are you doing here?” The sickly fluorescent light flicked on.

No. He closed his eyes. Every muscle in his body tightened, and his fangs threatened to elongate. He barely controlled it as his jaw ached at the increased pressure.

“I thought I saw you come in here. What are you doing? Are you looking for something?” she continued.

He turned. “I was here earlier and left something behind. I was just checking to see if it was here.”

“In the fridge?” Her forehead crinkled. She stood in the doorway, the black and orange candy bowl in one hand, the other on the light switch.

“It was a...biological sample for one of my newest projects.” Lying was a skill one tended to lose when one didn’t interact with others often. He let the door slide shut.

She was less than twenty feet away. In a single bound, he could snatch her up, tear out her throat, and close the door without her ever making a sound. But she would leave a mess and a panic.

She pulled the door shut and walked farther in, her frown intensifying. She set the bowl aside as she approached the cooler and peered inside. He hadn’t gotten far, but several vials sat within. No possible way to deny this. Again he noted how easy it would be to kill her. Most others in his situation would have done so at once. He could strangle her with her own scarf or smother her with that ridiculous hat. But murders required great care to avoid unnecessary suspicion, and right now, he couldn’t. Not with his head spinning from hunger. Not yet anyway. Maybe he could talk his way out of this.

She looked up at him slowly, her dark eyes wide. “Aestan, are you a vampire?”

His eyebrows lifted. Well, that had escalated quickly. Most people would have assumed he was selling the blood on the black market or some other nefarious scheme. She was sharp. Intuitive.

Aestan sighed. He leaned his hands on the table and steadied himself. Why couldn’t someone he disliked have discovered him? There were so many who fit that criteria. The man three houses down with the boxer who never stopped barking for one. The newspaper girl who never got the newspaper anywhere near his porch. The librarian who gave him dirty looks when he complained about damage to novels and asked that she do something about the book vandals. “Yes, Summer. I’m a vampire.”

It wasn’t entirely accurate, but it was close enough. He avoided looking at her. Now what?

Her breath quickened. Her cherry blossom perfume no longer masked the acrid scent of fear wafting from her. “Well, you can’t steal blood from here. Not only are you going to get caught, but...” She stepped back and crossed her arms. “We’ll just have to find another way. That’s all there is to it.”

“Find another way?” How ridiculously naive. “Don’t you think if there was another way I would have taken it? What do you suggest? Rat blood? Pig blood? Sheep blood? Perhaps some cow blood? There’s no substitute for human blood, and yes, that’s what I need. I need it to supplement my diet. Or else...”

“You’ll die if you don’t.” She covered her mouth, her brow knitting.

“As you can see, it’s a predicament easily resolved with this.” He placed his hand on the cooler. For a moment, he considered mentioning how he would just modify the reports to disguise the loss but decided against revealing any more of his techniques or strategies.

“I can’t let you do that. There’s been a huge shortage, and this blood is headed to a children’s hospital after processing.”

No. Summer don’t do this, he thought. Survival wasn’t a question. It was a reality. He’d done terrible things before to survive. He’d do it again if necessary. Survival trumped morality. But... “Just look the other way, Summer,” he said softly. “This is how it has to be.”

“No.” She removed the mutant parrot and hat, crossed over to the cabinet, and withdrew a rubber strip, a glass bottle, some tubes, and alcohol swabs. “How much do you...” She glanced at him tentatively, her face shrouded with concern. “How often do you feed? And how much at a time?”

“Once every few days.” If he actually drained a golem, he could go for two months without refreshment so long as he supplemented with other foods and nutrients. But...that didn’t seem like an appropriate thing to mention. His last meal had been a car crash victim outside of Osage sixty-two days twelve hours ago. “A couple ounces each time.” That wasn’t even a comfortable quantity, but if he wanted to convince her that he didn’t need much, it was best to underestimate. He could always get more when she wasn’t around. “Barely anything.”

She pulled out one of the folding chairs and sat down. She tied the strap around her arm. Her hand shook. “Well, that’s good.”

“What are you doing?” He frowned, stepping closer.

“I can’t let you have this blood, but I can let you have some of mine.” Her smile wavered as if she realized she had repeated herself. Summer shrugged. “And then you know...we can start looking for substitutes.”

He frowned. Surely he had heard wrong. “What?”

“Could you pour me some orange juice? It’s in the third fridge over. They say you’re not supposed to donate twice in one day. But you know, they have to do this sort of thing in emergency situations all the time.”

“Summer...I can’t take your blood.”

“Yes, you can. And if I were a stranger, you would. But we’re friends.”

“Friends?” He couldn’t suppress the sharp laugh. She had an oddly vague definition of friendship. Surely this was a joke.

She finished the prep and took a deep breath. “Yes, of course we are. Now...don’t attack me or anything, okay?” She stuck the needle into her arm and balled her hand up before flexing her fingers and clenching again. “I can’t let you have the blood we collected for the drive, but I can let you have some of mine. And then you know...we can start looking for some substitutes.”

Words failed him as he watched. A tantalizing scent rose from the glass, thick, slightly metallic. How could she be serious? Was he dreaming?

He slowly poured her a glass of orange juice. What was her motivation? Why would she do this? When she finished and passed him the now warm container, he had no more answers than when she started.

“Thanks.” She scooped up the juice and took a deep gulp before resting her forehead against the cold glass. “You should get going. The race is almost over. I’ll see you in a couple days or so, but if you need more before then, let me know.”

“You can’t keep giving—“

“I’ve done my research. I know what I can and can’t do, all right? And what I can’t do is let you steal blood or kill anyone.”

He stared down at the container. Turmoil roiled within him. His mouth watered at the thought of such refreshment and yet he was repulsed. This was stranger than his botched attempt at buying blood off Craigslist. “Why?”

“Obviously you’re not that bad if you’re trying to avoid killing people, and...well, what’s the best way to promote goodness if not to do it when you can? This is something I can do, so I will.” Summer pointed to the door, managing a weak smile. “Now get out of here. I’ll see you later.”

The small clicking alarm of his watch signaled the arrival of the midnight hour and the time for him to depart. He nodded. “Very well. I’ll see you soon.”