Dark Corner (5 page)

There was no need to ever hunt for food again. Indeed,
hunting human prey seemed primitive to him, an activity pursued only by uncivilized vampires, or those who were poor
and had no alternative. The few prosperous vampires who chose to hunt did so for sport, under carefully controlled
conditions-the vampire equivalent of game preserves.

Kyle removed the black straw from the back of the carton. It took three stabs at the perforated hole for him to
puncture the surface and slide the straw inside.

He restrained himself from sucking dry the entire packet
in a greedy gulp. He had fed only a few hours ago, and was
not genuinely hungry. He sipped only to soothe his nerves.

The cool, thick blood flowed over his tongue: delicious.

He leaned back in the seat, sighed.

A pleasurable warmth spread through his body.

The blond flight attendant appeared at his shoulder and
asked if he would like a pillow. He accepted her offer.

Smiling flirtatiously, she asked him to bend his head forward. She slipped the pillow behind him and gently pushed
him back against the cushion.

"Let me know if you need anything else, sir." Her fingers
brushed across his shoulder. Her tongue flickered briefly between her glossy red lips.

He smiled. "Thank you. I certainly will."

He watched her walk away, her tight hips undulating
under her skirt. He loved human women, and they invariably found him irresistibly attractive. Some of the fictions
about vampires were true: vampires were considered to be
sexy.

His head resting against the pillow, Kyle closed his eyes.
For the first time since he had boarded the airplane, his
thoughts unwound, and his muscles relaxed.

Not surprisingly, as his mind drifted, he thought about his
last encounter with Mother ...

Silvery beads of afternoon rain streamed down the tinted
parlor window as Kyle gazed outside at the green hills of
their country estate.

Behind him, Mother said, "I do not approve of this trip. I
understand why you wish to leave, but I do not approve"

Kyle turned. Mother reclined on a chaise lounge, frowning. Even in her distress, she was indescribably beautiful.
Her skin was dark and flawless; her lustrous, midnight-black
hair cascaded to her shoulders. Six feet tall, she possessed a
lean, exquisitely proportioned figure. She was dressed in a
silky lavender wrap, and matching shoes.

Mother's true name was Lisha, but amongst humans she
used many aliases, to maintain her privacy. To a human, at
first glance, she would appear to be no older than forty. In
truth, Mother was the oldest living vampire in the worldand the original mother of their race. Her true age was a
mystery, even to Kyle.

One look into her eyes confirmed that she was far older
than she appeared to be. Almond-shaped, obsidian, and
gleaming, her eyes reflected a depth of knowledge and wisdom that few living beings would ever attain. She had mesmerized countless creatures with her compelling gaze,
including him.

Meeting her eyes and voicing his decision to disobey her
wishes was one of the most difficult steps Kyle had ever
taken. Perspiration coated his face.

"Mother, I must go. When you told me the truth, you
foresaw what I would decide to do, didn't you? You should
not be surprised."

A month ago, Kyle had resolved to leave his mother's
French estate and establish a home of his own in another region, perhaps in western Africa. His resolution was born of a
restlessness that had plagued him for years. Like a child, he
had spent his life under the protective arm of his mother, and
though he lived in luxury and absorbed her endless store of
knowledge about vampires and mankind, he yearned to
break away, to live his own life. Mother had known that he
would want to leave one day, and she was not startled. But what startled him was when she told him the truth of his father.

Before, she always had led him to believe that his father
was dead and had died before Kyle was born. She finally revealed that his father was in the United States, entombed in
a cave in a rural town in the state of Mississippi, alive, but
submerged in a Sleep that had, so far, endured for over a century and a half.

His father was alive. Throughout his life, he had wondered about his father, his male co-creator. Although, as
Mother tried to explain, most vampires lived happily without full knowledge of both their parents, Kyle did not believe that he was like other vampires. His gift-and perhaps
his burden-was his capacity to feel emotion. He was not a
cold-blooded predator, a heartless creature of the night. He
was capable of a vast range of feeling that surely rivaled
what any human could experience.

He wanted to understand his place in the world. He
wanted to be guided and taught by one who could understand him in a way that Mother could not. He had yearned
for a connection to his father, and had thirsted for knowledge about him, even though Mother had deceived him into
believing that his father was dead. And in Mother's opinion,
one who was dead was not worth discussion; she'd told him
little about his own father.

Mother had lied to "protect" him, she claimed. It was
only when she realized that he was going to leave her, to live
his own life, that she confessed. He hated her for lying to
him, though he understood her intentions in concealing the
truth. She knew what he would decide to do once he had
learned the truth. She knew.

"You are correct, I am not surprised at your intentions,"
Mother said. "I told you the truth at last because I had hoped
you would handle the knowledge wisely. I warn you to leave
the past alone, my son. Let your father rest, in peace"

"You ask the impossible," he said. "All my life I've wondered about what he was like, how it would have been to
know him. Do you think I could ever rest, knowing that he's
alive?"

"How do you think I feel?" she said. "He was my companion. I loved him deeply-more than you could ever understand." She closed her eyes for a moment, drew a breath
to compose herself. "Leaving your father to follow his unfortunate fate was one of the most difficult decisions I've
ever made"

"But that was almost a hundred seventy years ago!" Kyle
said. He slammed his fist against the back of a chair, and it
creaked under the impact. Mother watched him, patiently
enduring his tantrum. But a tall figure swathed in black appeared across the room, at the door.

"Is everything all right, madam?" the vampire said.

Kyle hissed. This vampire was his mother's newest companion. He annoyed Kyle, but then, virtually all of her companions annoyed him. Kyle had sufficient self-awareness to
admit that he was jealous of the attention that Mother lavished on her lovers.

"Mother and I are having a private discussion," Kyle said.
He raised his hand, and the parlor door, propelled by an invisible force, swung shut in the vampire's face. Kyle
glimpsed surprise in the creature's eyes before the door
slammed; his mother's companion was a new vampire and
had yet to learn the extent of a vampire's talents.

Mother had calmly watched the brief exchange.

Kyle paced across the hardwood floor. "As I was about to
say, times are different now. The American slave trade has
long since ended. There is no Civil War. My father could live
in peace"

"Child, those points are irrelevant. Diallo was born and
raised as a warrior. When he was taken to the United States
as a slave, his taste for violence only grew more intense. If I had not intervened, he would have died at the hands of his
slave master"

"You've told me all this. But that was so long ago"

"I'm telling you again because you must listen to me. For
Diallo's entire life, as both a man and a vampire, his hunger
for violence has been insatiable. After he left me in New
Orleans, when I was pregnant with you, he roamed the countryside and murdered hundreds-not for food, not for
vengeance, but because he enjoyed it." She gave him a level
gaze. "Do you understand me, Kyle? Your father was a monster. A Sleep of a thousand years would never diminish the
bloodlust that rages in his soul."

Kyle stopped pacing and slumped in a chair across from
his mother. His hands trembled.

"I can change him," Kyle said. "When he learns that I am
his son, his heart will change"

Mother laughed bitterly. "Change Diallo? Even I could not
change Diallo. He is more iron-willed than you can fathom. It
is fortunate for us that the humans imprisoned him. He had
awesome potential as a vampire. If he had been allowed to
cause mayhem much longer, he would have tapped the range
of his gifts, and in the end, brought destruction on us all."

Kyle could not bear to look at her. She was so keenly perceptive, and he hated it. She had lived so long and learned so
much about the paths that life followed that she could predict what would happen long before such events came to
pass. "Life is a Byzantine labyrinth," she had told him once.
"But after you have lived as long as I have, you no longer
dwell in the maze. You hover above it, and regarding it below
you, can discern each twist and turn, far in advance"

Mother reached across the distance that separated them
and put her hand on his arm. Her long, slender fingers were
warm.

"Let your father sleep, Kyle. It is better for all of us for
you to let him be. He is at peace"

He shrugged off her hand.

"I can't," he said. "I have to know him, and see him. I
have to."

She folded her arms across her chest. "You are too human,
just as he was"

"Excuse me?"

She spat out the words: "Stubborn, short-sighted, emotional. Too much like a human. It was your father's undoing.
Unfortunately, it may be yours as well."

"Mother, I don't wish to offend you-but you don't know
everything."

Her eyes were not angry, only melancholy. "If you pursue
this endeavor, I cannot assist you, or intervene. You can take
our aircraft, but that is all the assistance I will offer."

"I'm not taking our airplane," he said. "I'll get there myself. Mamu and I will do everything. I don't need you."

Mother flinched as if slapped, and he felt sorry for what
he had said. Then his regret faded. He wasn't sorry, not really. He was tired of her dictating his life, offering her sage
advice about everything. He wanted to choose his own
course of action, and if it proved to be wrong, then that was
his burden to bear, and he would learn from the experience.

He realized one reason why he wanted to leave Mother
and seek out his father: Living with an ancient being like her
robbed him of experiencing the peaks and valleys that were
a part of life. Life with Mother was smooth, predictable,
safe. She lived in a heavily fortified compound, her every
need provided for, her global network of connections ensuring her prosperity, her wisdom shielding her from making
mistakes that would cause dangerous conflict. Life with her
was, in a word, boring.

But as he thought about his unknown father, the mighty
vampire whom Mother had failed to tame, his heart
throbbed with excitement.

"You seek to be free of me," Mother said. "You desire to learn on your own, to taste trial and error. I know your heart,
my son"

"Then you know that you can't change my mind. I am
going to do this, without your help."

She nodded, slowly. He rose and kissed her cheek.

"I am leaving in the morning," he said. "Good-bye, Mother."

A tear coursed down her face. It gave him pause. He
could not recall the last time he had seen her cry.

"You've been a wonderful son," she said. "I've had many
sons, but I've loved you the most, Kyle. Please, remember
that, always."

He took her hand in his and squeezed it. "You talk as if
I'm going to my death. I'll come to visit on occasion. You'll
see me again."

Mother did not reply immediately, and as he walked out
of the chamber, he heard her words, which she spoke in a
whisper.

`No. I never will. "

After an hour and a half in the air, the airplane touched
down in Amsterdam. Kyle was grateful for the opportunity
to stretch his legs. He sipped another packet of blood before
getting on the next aircraft, which carried him on a tedious,
ten-hour voyage to Memphis, Tennessee.

It was late evening when he finally met Mamuwalde-or
"Mamu," his preferred nickname-his personal agent, at the
terminal gate.

"How was the flight, sir?" Mamu asked in French. He
took Kyle's bag and carried it over his broad shoulder.

Kyle responded in English, a subtle signal that they
would not speak French here.

"Absolutely awful. I'll never fly commercially again. We
will charter a private jet when we depart. We can discuss the
details later."

It was Friday, August 23rd. The terminal was only sparely
populated. They did not need to wait at baggage claim. Kyle
had sent all his necessary clothes and items in advance. They
walked out of the airport.

"It's humid here," Kyle said. He felt as though he had
wandered into a suffocating cloud of heat. He had read about
the summer climate in the American South, but experiencing
it firsthand was a different matter altogether. He slid off his
gloves, unbuttoned his jacket.

"It is warm, indeed," Mamu said. He was attired in navyblue slacks, a tailored white shirt, a somber Italian tie, and
polished black wingtips. Mamu dressed for his work as an
agent with the same attention to detail as an executive laboring in a corporation. Kyle believed Mamu would've been
wearing his suit jacket if not for the stifling humidity.

Mamu led the way to the parking lot. He was a stout man,
in his thirties, bald-headed and clean-shaven. Born in Paris,
of African lineage, he was a member of a family that had
been quietly serving as agents to vampires for generations.
Mamu and his sister had been in the employ of Kyle and his
mother since they were teenagers; before them, his parents
had served the family.