Birth of a Bachelor

[Dan (DELETED 9778)]

“Right.”

Daniel stated, deadpan. It wasn’t a blankness borne from sarcasm. It was a blankness sourced from a stalled thought process. His mind struggled to wrap itself about the reality he was faced with.

Without an answer to latch onto, without a direction to take this in, he found himself blankly staring at the vampire. Not just any vampire, no. Alaric von der Marck.

The connection between Nazism and occultism sprung to mind.

Perhaps Alaric’s unwillingness to answer the question was due to its incriminating answer. Ignorant of the world of vampirism and its own historic massacre, Daniel had no reason not to suspect a German vampire might have come West for the same reason his grandfather had: to escape repercussions.

“Are you a Nazi?”

[Alaric von der Marck]

There were plenty of questions the elder anticipated. At the top of the list were generally questions about his state of being; whether it was really true. Was he a vampire? Was he dangerous? Most often when dealing with humans who’d discovered his species for the first time, he had to first deal with their disbelief before moving on to their curiosity; questions about the sun, blood, garlic and religion. They always wanted to know what popular culture had got right, and what it had got sorely wrong. Most popular culture was a farce, in Alaric’s opinion -- who in fact was not a fan of burning books, but in some cases he believed it might be justified.

At first the direct question stunned the elder; he’d not lived through the modern wars but he had read about them at length. The things that his country was known for were deplorable and, were he there to live it, he would have rebelled against it. He himself did not sport blonde hair, though he had the light eyes and the pale skin. He would not have supported nor been a part of Hitler’s supposed ‘Aryan race’.

The elder laughed.

”Nein,” he said, shaking his head.

”Are you?”

[Dan (DELETED 9778)]

Nazism was no laughing matter, and Daniel couldn’t decide whether Alaric’s laughter irritated him or not. Given the question hanging in the air, he couldn’t dwell on it. He had no intention of giving the man any reason to doubt his answer and responded promptly and firmly, as if refuting a personal accusation: “No.”

Daniel caught his own reflection immediately behind Alaric once again, and sharply inhaled. There was nothing natural about that, nothing at all. Pressing the key card to the sensor, he diverted his gaze. He then pressed the button for the twenty-sixth floor, working his jaw before inhaling to speak. This time, the words rolled off his tongue in German.

“No, but my grandfather was an advisor to Heinrich Himmler. His name was Sieger von der Marck. He was highly commended for his scientific research, and a close friend to the führer given their shared interest in occultism. So I’ll ask again, because you laugh, since when are you a vampire?”

[Alaric von der Marck]

There was a lot within the young man’s words to unpack, not least of which was the name von der Marck. It did not necessarily mean that they were connected. The coincidence was uncanny. What were the chances?! But the von der Marcks were numerous in Harper Rock, and perhaps it was not beyond the realm of imagination. This was not one that Alaric had met; not one who was close to the others in the family, though he seemed to be the same age, if not a few years older. There was a seriousness about him, but a forthright and moral way of handling himself and the situations he found himself in that did the name proud.

And yet, Daniel had given Adler as a surname. This did not matter either, in the grand scheme of a bloodline. The blood was still there.

Daniel’s seriousness was matched by a newfound depth in Alaric. The blunt honesty delivered in the mother tongue could only be met with the same. So Alaric cleared his mind of all blockades preventing him from telling the truth. All in, if he wanted to gain this young man’s trust and clear his doubts.

He replied in German.

”I was born in fifteen-seventy. I was vampire in sixteen-oh-six. In seventeen-ninety-four I was betrayed by family and slaughtered in my sleep. Perhaps it is from that member that your grandfather is descended,” Alaric said, suggesting perhaps that the bad seen lived in the blood. That would suggest, then, that Daniel himself could do bad things, and could be disloyal; it painted a picture. Perhaps he should not judge a whole family by the name of one man. Alaric was not in the habit of doing so.

”I awakened again only two years ago. Therefore, I am not a Nazi. Had I been alive, I do not believe I would have been a Nazi,” he said. He might have smiled, but he would not allow the younger man to believe he found any of it amusing.

[Dan (DELETED 9778)]

1517. 1606. 1794. The numbers — what they represented — were unfathomable. Daniel’s attention shifted from the mirrors inwards as he tried to wrap his mind around it all. Up until five minutes who he was under the impression that vampires were a local myth, a city-wide story told to incite interest, perchance scam a few believing tourists. Struggling to digest the facts, he sought to make sense of them as best as he could.

277. Alaric had lived for over two-hundred years. Two years ago. 222. And, had been dead for over two-hundred years. Lowering his gaze to the ground, his brow furrowed as he noticed — yet again — the lack of reflection in the tiling.

Now that Daniel knew the what and when, he was stuck on the how? How could one live that long? How could one be dead that long? How was it possible to cast no reflection, but still cast a shadow? He glanced up to study Alaric’s face. Beneath his feet, he felt the elevator slowing to their stop.

Perhaps how was not relevant, at least not in the immediate. Vampires were a curious thing, but Daniel did not share his grandfather’s interest in the occult. What he needed to know, he realised was whether it was possible—

“Are there others von der Marcks?”

As they exited the lift, he twirled his keycard once and motioned towards the door immediately across from them. There were two other doors on either end of the hallway, one of which was the fire escape. On these upper floors, there were only two apartments per floor, allowing bigger, well insulated properties.

Pressing the keycard to the panel at the door, he was glad Remy was still at his sister’s. There were still so many boxes left to unpack that the rescue would have keenly peed on. Some of the unopened boxed had become makeshift furniture as he used them as surfaces to unpack other boxes. It was not the kind of environment one was proud to bring guests to, but he was too concerned with what he was learning to apologise for the contained mess that greeted them by the doorway. The torn cardboard sat in a large industrial-like room, the exposed brick, smoothed concrete, and black accent walls contrasted with brushed brass, oiled rubbed bronze, and polished steel.

[Alaric von der Marck]

If the young man called Daniel was shocked, he was good at hiding it. The elder von der Marck watched with avid curiosity—and part trepidation—as the information was heard and processed. There were plenty of questions that he expected from the younger, but none of the expectations came to fruition. Instead, Alaric was surprised by the calmness of the question asked—the apparent normalcy of it.

They stepped out of the elevator and Alaric nodded. ”Ja,” he replied, waiting until they were secure within the apartment to continue.

”The von der Marcks are numerous. The family tree has branches that are both high and stretched wide. They are all over the world. A small concentration live here, in Harper Rock. There is an Estate, South of the city,” he said while he slowly appreciated the interiors around him. He had reason enough to understand that the boxes were not normal, that Daniel was either packing or unpacking. The design, however, was smooth. The colours did not clash. It was not an overwhelming room; but nor was it yet complete to be overwhelming. His wandering gaze eventually found the young man once more.

”It is a coincidence, then, that you and I have met this way. You did not come to this city in search of family,” he said. It was not a question. Daniel would not have asked if there were other von der Marcks if they were who he was here to visit.

[Dan (DELETED 9778)]

Adler was his mother’s family name. It rolled off the tongue far easier than von der Marck and required no origin explanation. To legally change one’s name required a court proceeding and an order from the ruling judge, both of which he’d gotten as a side-deal to his parents’ divorce at sixteen. He’d been young and impressionable, eager to prove the world he was worthy and naive enough to believe a tarnished family name would be an obstacle. Over time, his connection to his father had waned, distancing him further and further from a shared history he wasn’t eager to hang onto.

It gave him pause to hear the von der Marcks were far from a dying breed, but that had not been the meaning of his question. Eyeing Alaric, Daniel peeled away the yellow puffer and baggy white fleece, both stained. Beneath he wore a soft grey shirt, revealing that the bulk was his own, a show of strength accrued over the years. Discarding the items atop an unopened box, he moved towards another box and fished from it a folded cream, fisherman sweater.

“I didn’t, no. My mother divorced and I never looked into it furhter,” he responded, holding the sweater out for Alaric. If there was need for an added layer, he could supply that as well. “I chose Haper Rock for a fresh start,” he revealed, scrunching the sleeves of his shirt at his elbows. Uncomfortable sharing further of himself, he motioned towards the hallway branching off from the open space. “First door to the left.”

[Alaric von der Marck]

Alaric asked no further questions. Daniel’s amiable, friendly nature had turned sour. The elder had only just stepped through the door but already felt as if he were wearing out his welcome. The young man had his independence; Harper Rock was a proclaimed fresh start, and whatever experiences he’d had with the von der Marck lineage seemed to have completely turned him from it.

Alaric took the offered sweater and nodded as he was given direction to the room within which he could shed his layers and change. He took said direction without a word, quietly closing the door behind him. The jacket and underlying turtleneck were removed. Luckily, the pants had escaped soiling. The cream sweater that he’d been given did not suit the rest of his outfit, but beggars could not be choosers.

Back in the main space, he held his folded clothes neatly.

”I am not your father, and am ignorant to what quarrels you might have with him or his immediate predecessors,” he started. ”I would hope that you would seek to know me upon my own merits, but I understand if you would like me to leave,” he said, tone calm. Daniel’s opinion of the von der Marcks, though unspoken, did not appear to be a good one. Though Alaric knew that time with those whom he himself knew might ease that bad opinion, it was not something that he would force.

[Dan (DELETED 9778)]

“No,” he breathed out, frustrated by the knots tied into this conversation. Vampires, an extended bloodline, and a divulgation of his personal life were a great many things to content with. At least he didn’t do so on an empty stomach, so there was that. Leaning against the back of the chesterfield sofa, Daniel folded his arms across his chest, hands tucking into his armpits with his thumbs sticking upwards. The hunch in his shoulders, despite the suggestive protectiveness of his crossed arms, was not an attempt to compact himself further, but a show of defeat. Here he was about to tell a tale that did little to assuage his discomfort, but which might reverse any discomfort he’d brought upon his guest.

“My father isn’t the reason I moved here. I recently divorced as well,” he revealed. It was no secret to those around him here in Canada that he was divorced, though the circumstances were kept between himself and his latest therapist. History might have repeated itself, but the demise of his own marriage was for far different reasons. Daniel still struggled to come to terms with them. “I don’t begrudge you for carrying my father’s name, nor can I hold against you what you had no hand in. I’m simply—I was not expecting there to be a whole lot of others. Let alone,” he chuckled drily, “—vampires.”

His arms dropped to his side, hands curling over the tufted top of the couch. The furrow of his brow revealed there to be many demons being battled with within, though his mouth opened and the question that followed would lead to the fork in the road that’d either end or encourage their exchange.

“Are you a killer?”

There were many misconceptions about vampires — namely that they were fictional.