2 Embassy

In my imagination, the vampire embassy was a medieval castle with sharp towers, blood-red flags and a fairytale-like moon behind it, on which you could see the shapes of bats. But in this darn sad reality of ours, Saul walked me into center town and pointed to a commercial building that also housed an electric store and a pet shop.

"There it is," he spoke like some kind of a guide for my tourist, "on the third floor."

I stood there, the kind of disappointment on my face you can't hide.

"Not goth enough?" He asked with a grin.

"It's a freaking pet shop."

"Well, you know... With the real estate prices being what they are."

And it wasn't any better on that third floor. We walked straight from the elevator into an accounting firm type of a waiting room. It had mostly white or glass walls, and there was a receptionist there sitting behind her desk boringly, more focused on the computer screen than our late-night arrival.

I was ready to just turn around and go do anything else; at that point, even bowling seemed like a more vampire thing to do, but Saul wasn't discouraged at all, and he marched toward that receptionist's desk like he owned the place.

And as wasn't unusual, his presence caught the lady's eye.

"It's you." She said, tone similar to that of a scorned lover. "I don't even want to know..."

Saul showcased his brilliant teeth and reached over the counter, so close as to give the girl a kiss. But she only gave him dead eyes.

"Becky," Saul grinned, "as cold as usual. I tell you, you got the get out of this place."

She did not smile but put her eyes on me.

"If this one is turned by you, I'd say it's you who has to run."

I did not appreciate being called "this one", and stepped forward despite her aura of ice. "I'm Thomas," I said, putting on something like a smile as well. But I had no more luck in warming her up. If anything, she looked disgusted. That kind of hurt.

She combed her hand through her blond hair, but not in a flirtatious way. It was more of an "I can't freaking believe this" kind of move.

Saul explained, as careless as usual.

"Hey. I'm a loving guy. What can I do?"

"You can follow the law!" The passion (and perhaps concern) in her voice made it almost certain that they had had a romantic history. Which wasn't that hard to see, to be honest. She was gosh darn pretty, even when as bitter and stuck-up as an ice-queen.

Saul didn't let his positivism break. "I follow a more universal law. Don't let your buddies die..." he winked, "You would have done the same."

Becky smiled coldly.

"You really don't know me at all, do you?"

She pressed an intercom button and spoke into the mic. "Tambino's back with another one."

No response came, but Becky pointed to one of the non-glass doors.

Saul tapped on the counter as "thank you" and gestured me to follow. I did so, but not before exchanging another look with the frozen receptionist. There was no mistaking it; to her, I was dirt.

The room we headed into was just as boring as everything else in the pet-shop slash vampire-embassy building, gray walls and what have you, but the man sitting across the table looked like a rather formidable one, and much more supernatural. He had a certain dignity about him that came with age (which, in his case, may have been in the hundreds) and a cool set of long silver hair with a matching silver beard. He may have made a better wizard than vampire, but at that point, I was joyed by any hint to the supernatural.

Like a disappointed father to Saul, he shook his head right away and mumbled something disproving. Whatever it was, he did get Saul to stop smiling. After a moment, he continued more audibly.

"This can't be Saul. Rules are rules."

"I need an exception, Bart."

Bart kept shaking his old and wise head. "I can't..."

"It was an emergency, I'm sure they will..."

"No, Saul! Not any more. They are cracking down on numbers. We are on the verge of breaking the treaty! They will not!"

Saul glanced at me. There wasn't any real concern on his face yet. "Treaty with the witches," he told me, "we're supposed to keep our numbers at a certain level..."

"Yes!" The old man called. "You DO know about that! You have heard and you understand. Still, you go and do this."

"Seriously, Bart. It's one guy."

Bart shook his head, pulled out a quill (not a pen; I got quite the supernatural kick out of seeing that) and started marking a paper. "I have to punish you. No more special treatment."

Saul sighed, but his dropping mood went ignored. Instead, the old man turned to me. "Name?"

It kind of shook me to be addressed so suddenly, but I gathered my thought quick enough.

"Thomas."

"Thomas what?"

"Stoifeld."

Hearing that, his quill-hand froze and his eyes moved upward, but about as slowly as the trees grow.

"What did you say?" He finally got out.

"Stoifeld! S, T, O..."

He turned in his seat (it had been a rolling chair) and started opening metal drawers.

I looked at Saul and he looked back. He seemed about as aware of what was happening as I was.

"What's up, Bart?" Saul asked, some concern breaking into his tone.

But the old man just kept searching for something.

It was about a minute later when he stopped and pulled out a large (A3 size) file folder. He scanned it with shaky fingers and called out to me.

"Edison Stoifeld? Do you know him?"

Hearing the name was certainly strange and surprising, it got me to pull back in my chair.

"Edison? Yes. He's my uncle. What's he got to do..."

Bart jumped up as if having sat on some magical thumbtack. Crazy eyes, he looked at me and then to Saul, and then back to me.

"With me, if you will, Mr. Stoifeld?" He said, walking to the door. "Saul will stay here."

There was no longer a joke on Saul's face. His lips only mimicked the word "Go."

It was pretty clear that whatever was happening wasn't to the norm. But, for some reason, I was still far from being frightened. If anything, it felt like things were finally starting to get interesting. So, I did follow; out the door, through the waiting room and down a long, dimly lit hallway. In the end, we reached a much more vampire-ish room. It was dark and humid, and it's stone walls gave it the look of a cave.

Bart sat on a bench and gestured me to join him.

By that point, his madness had lessened, and he spoke in an almost childish voice.

"What a night, eh? To you, and to us all, really."

"If you say so."

He tapped some rhythm on his old knees before continuing.

"This turning of yours... It was voluntary, yes?"

"I guess. I mean, I wasn't exactly aware of it. I was dead. But yeah, I'm glad he did it."

"That's good. Saul's a good guy. Rash sometimes, but good."

"Yeah. Sure."

"So, you were dead? An accident, perhaps?"

"I doubt it. I don't really remember."

Bart nodded so much it felt like he didn't agree after all.

"It would be very good if we knew."

"I second that."

"I can show you, you know? I could make you see."

"Really?"

"Do you want to see?"

"Sure, I mean..." But I could not say the rest. The old man pressed his index finger onto my forehead (about where the bullet had hit) and I was suddenly back in my apartment.

I could see myself messing with the keys, which never seemed to fit into the lock when dunk, enter the corridor, kick off my shoes, and then zigzag my way toward the kitchen.

But then, out of nowhere, my way was blocked by a mountain of a man. He was in a dark overcoat and had a watermelon of a face covered in scars. And he was holding a gun to my face.

And before I could react in any way, he spoke. "Find the red cove."

And that was

it. He had most likely pulled the trigger right after, for I returned into the embassy-room.

Bart was already on his feet, heading toward the door.

"Who the hell was that!?" I called to his backside.

He stopped for a moment, not turning around. "Don't worry about that. Your uncle will be here soon."

And I could ask no more before he was gone.

I was left sitting, wondering what the hell did my uncle have to do with anything? In that deep thought, I checked the door to see if it was locked (which it wasn't) and walked back and forth in the room trying to decide if I should make a run for it, or if that could be considered an overreaction.

Before I could decide, the door reopened, and from it, I could see the silhouette of my (who I had always thought to be crazy) uncle. He didn't appear as mad then. Hair combed over his head and dressed in a nice suit, he looked pretty bad-ass, like a mafioso.

" Come, Thomas!" He called, very serious and maybe even concerned. And he started walking.

But I started to get dizzy. And sick. And angry. It was like I was returning to the hangover of the transition into a vampire.

I followed my uncle shakily as everything started to hum and turn foggy, and I grabbed from my head as an ache similar to an ice-pick stabbing punctured my skull. Thoughts and ideas seemed to run from me. So, by the time we reached the waiting room, I had to keep repeating to myself the name "Saul", just so not to forget about him.

As I stood there, trying to maintain control, my uncle was pointing his finger at Bart. "You'll be hearing from us."

But that didn't really matter to me. Between all the pains, I managed to open my mouth. And I was as loud as one can be.

"Where's Saul?" I demanded.

That got some eyes on me, but not Saul back.

"I'm not leaving without him!" I cried again.

Everyone looked at my uncle. He sighed and shrugged like "whatever".

And then Saul appeared, whiter than I had ever seen him, and more humble-looking.

He didn't say a word to me but rushed toward the elevator.

The ride down was a silent one, if not counting the rumble in my chest. My heart was pounding like a freaking war-drum. And there was a wild desire inside me growing stronger by the second - a need to rip and slash, to play and kill – to feed.

As we got to the street, I could only see as much as through a needle pin, the rest of me was prepping to do its own thing.

Saul and uncle were facing each other.

"I'm so sorry, sir!" Saul pleaded, terrified.

"Save it! This is your end, you cancer of nature!"

And then I was an animal. A strong and fast one. The most determined and target minded monster on the planet. I slammed into my uncle, digging my fangs into his neck (in so deep they might as well have exited from the other side) and sucked with all I had. And I ripped and I clawed, breaking his bones and tearing him apart.

And then, suddenly I was again my fun-loving self. I dropped his depleted body on the asphalt and looked at Saul with the most sincere smile. I felt freaking great. I was as light as a feather and as might as a sword. Stars in the sky and souls in hell, they were all mine to be played with.

But Saul was much more gloomy – annoyingly so. He was kind of ruining my high.

"What THE HELL did you do?" He screamed, pointing at the messy carcass. I looked at my uncle. He was like an empty box of cookies. Who cares about an empty box?

Saul shook his head, looking up (probably to the windows of the embassy) and then stepped over the guts to right beside me. He put his hand on my shoulder and spoke, almost breathlessly. "We have to get out of here."

And as he desired, happened. Suddenly we were like the wind - fast and invisible, blowing down the street and all the way out of town.