Bride of Blood:: First Kiss (21 page)

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“You know,” she began as a drink seemed to appear out of nowhere in front of her, “I know that I’m already dead, but I still don’t like to see her!”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“I don’t think anyone really makes it a practice to hang out with her,” Anton said as Vercie drank her glass of wine.
 
“Although I hear that there are some mortals who actually pray to her and hold her in high regard.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“That’s true,” said Anzalone, not wanting to be left out of the conversation, “They call her Santisima Muerte.
 
I don’t get it.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“You just like to taunt her,” said Vercie, turning to him, “and most of us here thank you for that, sugar.”
 
Everyone in the bar raised their glasses to him in salute.
 
Strange how those that were brought to the land of the dead by her don’t really care for her, thought Anton. Vercie smiled at him and then kissed his forehead.
 
She looked into his dark eyes for a moment.
 
She could see into his heart, as Anton couldn’t.
 
Although he had a dark soul, he was generally good.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“So, what are you doing these days?” asked Anzalone.
 
Anton gave him a mean look.
 
How could he not know about the war?
 
And the fact that he was one of those that were targeted by Drago.
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“Oh you mean the war?” asked Anzalone, obviously reading Anton’s expression.
 
He never really cared for the vampire at all.
 
He was cordial to him because he knew that was what Lady Bernadine expected of him.
 
He knew that if they were mortals, he would easily be able to take Anton in a fight, probably kill him.
 
But in the vampire world, Anton was a Master Vampire and Anzalone was barely an Acolyte.
 
He was barely 70 years old since he was in his 30’s when he was made.
 
He was one of the few Americans to be made into a vampire by The Prince or anyone in The Order of the Dragon because they mostly stuck to Europe.
 
Anzalone had been very muscular and powerful, though not very tall.
 
When he was made into a vampire, he grew even more muscular although not any taller.
 
When he was a mortal, he was often angry at the world and was quick to get into a fight, and when he became a vampire, things hadn’t changed much.
 
Other than Lady Bernadine, most of those in The Order of Nepthys looked upon him with suspicion and distrust.
 
He really didn’t care and neither did the small group of vampires that had come over with him.
 
Anzalone knew that a day would come where he would have to prove his loyalty to Lady Bernadine and to The Order.
 
Whether Anton or Christina Michelle or anyone else believed it or not, he was willing to give his life for The Order.
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“Vercie, why don’t you keep him company,” Anton said, getting up. “I want to visit a friend while I’m here.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Anton got up from his seat and walked away from them.
 
He headed to a door to the left of the bar.
 
He turned to JR and asked, “How is he?”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“He has his good days and bad days,” JR answered.
 
“Today’s one of those good days.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
About that time Anton noticed that Sante Muerte had been hiding in the shadows.
 
She must have wanted to stay clear of Anzalone and his taunts, but still remain in The Way Station.
 
Anton could see her eyes glowing in her empty sockets.
 
Her cloak swirled about her, mostly for dramatic effect which didn’t impress Anton at all.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“Don’t worry, Anton,” she called to him.
 
“His body and his mind will be reunited…someday!” She started to laugh.
 
No one else did.
 
She laughed one last time and then she walked into the shadows again, but this time she actually left.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Anton’s uncomfortable feelings were replaced with annoyance.
 
How he prayed that he outlived her.
 
Hopefully Anzalone’s taunts would eventually make her go away and not return to The Way Station.
 
She seemed to get more snarky each time he saw her.
 
He wasn’t sure if it was her growing cult in the mortal world or the fact that her time was almost up.
 
Whatever it was, he would be glad to see her gone.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Anton touched the door.
 
It was warm.
 
That was a good sign.
 
If it were cold, it would be best to come back another day.
 
He slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
This day the room was bare.
 
There were no dancing lights or strange colorful projections on the walls.
 
No new ideas today, Sam
, Anton thought.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
He saw only an armchair and a television in the center of the room.
 
The large radio that once sat next to the chair was gone.
 
Last time Anton was here, it had been kicked in.

The bare light bulb that hang from the ceiling barely lit up the room, but Anton could see all that he needed.
 
Upon closer inspection, he saw a small, gangly man in the armchair and the TV was turned on in front of him.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Anton coughed and walked slowly toward the man.
 
He heard the click of a remote and the channel on the TV changed.
 
Now the screen showed a test pattern.
 
He heard a long sigh come from the chair.
 
His friend knew that he was in the room.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Anton approached the left side of the chair and smiled down at his friend.
 
The man was very thin and gaunt.
 
His hair was long and scraggly and seemed to fall wherever it wanted.
 
A pair of dark, empty eyes peered out from behind the hair.
 
A cloud of smoke came out of a mouth that was surrounded by 3 or 4 days growth of beard.
 
The man wore a plain, white t-shirt, with purple velvet pants and no shoes or socks.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“Hi, Sam,” said Anton, just above a whisper.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“That stopped being funny almost 40 years ago, Anton,” said Sam in a voice that sounded like it came from an English frog.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Anton laughed and knelt down next to Sam.
 
He pulled a cigarette out of the pack that was resting on the arm of the chair.
 
He took the cigarette out of Sam’s mouth which had burned down to the filter, and placed it in the ashtray next to the pack.
 
He quickly lit the cigarette, took a few puffs and put it between Sam’s lips.
 
Sam took a deep drag and expelled the smoke through his nose.
 
He muttered something that sounded like “Thanks” and set the cigarette on the ashtray.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Neither spoke for several moments.
 
Finally Anton said, “You know I’m going to reunite with Velara soon…”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Sam almost smiled, but not quite.
 
He acted like he hadn’t heard a word Anton had just said.
 
“Have you been to see me, lately?”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“Not for about six months or so,”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“I didn’t recognize you, did I?”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Anton was quiet for a few moments before shaking his head.