Mortal Agent of a Vampire - Chapter 23

I learned to use what Mohammed called – body memory. It wasn’t easy, but I was still making some progress. As I glared at my cell phone, a line of numbers slid through my mind, intentionally or not, like the landline number of an old house suddenly flashing back, and the same dialing didn’t work.
“The number you are calling is not in service.” A woman told me with a straight face.
Dead end.
I wondered if I should step all over the places I’d been like the characters in those eight o’clock dramas, or, alternatively, see a psychiatrist. Without much struggle, I chose the former.
It’s best not to tell the shrinks, “I know a vampire.” It won’t work. They all have a panic button under their desks, and he’ll press it while steadying you with an understanding smile on the countertop. Then, by the time you reacted, you’d be picked up by the white-coated slugger and thrown onto the Asylum Direct Express.
Method one isn’t easy, though. According to the recording, I was afraid I’d have to run halfway around the world.
When I got home, I packed out my bags and prepared myself for a long fight. Mom didn’t say much, she never did, just asked if I had enough money. I hugged her, I didn’t know when I’d be back.
Without a doubt, the first stop was Moonlight Falls. I bought my ticket and hopped on the bus. There were only a smattering of passengers on the bus and I sat in the window seat. It was an overcast day, with a low sky filled with dark clouds. I remembered that two years ago, I was the same way, leaning my head against the glass, staring at the gray sky, my heart filled with the unknown. What awaited me then was a turnaround, and I hoped this time would be the same.
A recording plays in the headphones. Hearing my own voice now doesn’t give me goosebumps anymore. During the part about Finland, I got carried away, imagining what it would be like to sit in a hot air balloon and reach out to touch the aurora borealis.
Suddenly, I caught something. There was no mistaking that the answer was it. It was definitely what Mohammed said, body memory.
I rushed to the driver and yelled at him to get out of the car. He gave me a bunch of nonsense about traffic rules. I had to wait until the next service area. Man, that was torture.
I immediately caught the return bus and headed straight to …… where Leonie was resting.
Why not? For Vince, it would have been a monument in his life and the first time he opened up to me. What could be more iconic than that?
On the way there, I stopped to buy a bouquet of flowers. A hazy mist shrouded the area around the cemetery, little droplets of water attached themselves to me, and before long, I was dripping wet. There weren’t many visitors, just me to be exact. I walked through the high and low monoliths with flowers in my hands, and with every step I took, a memory poured into my mind. It was a magical experience, indescribable, like rapids roaming over dry ground and sunlight piercing through black clouds.
I guessed right.
When I finally stood in front of Leonie’s headstone – the recording didn’t say where it was, I found it from memory – I felt complete and content. I was glad I’d finally found myself.
You see, it’s each of our unique experiences that make us who we are, and no part of it is indispensable. That’s why Alzheimer’s is so scary; it’s like a time thief, taking away precious memories one by one and turning the sufferer into just another stranger.
I put the flowers on the headstone and left.

The sun shone down on the marina, where boats of all sizes sank in the blue surf. I held the map over my head and walked toward the pontoon. Crossing the piazza is no easy task; it’s high season, Venice is packed everywhere, and I’ve noticed that the pigeons here aren’t at all afraid of strangers, breezing through the tourists and flocking to the beautiful women holding corn kernels.
A soccer ball hits my shoe, and I pick it up to see a blond teenager standing in front of me.
“il tuo?” I asked.
“Sure, thanks.” He replied, in much better Italian than I had.
I handed him the soccer ball, and when he held out his hand, I noticed that he was wearing green nail polish.
What kind of person wears green nail polish? Maybe I’m too traditional, green and nails, that’s just not compatible, see?
“I like the color green, it goes well with my eyes.” The boy made a yay sign next to his eyes. Yes, the exact same emerald green.
“Pitch it to a fashion column.” I suggested.
He poked his tongue out and dribbled away.
I continued on my way, and there was a sign on the shore that said ‘Private Pier, Do Not Enter’ in bold, eye-catching letters in three languages (including Chinese). I stood there admiring it for a moment, then ignored it, crossed the velvet red rope and stepped onto the pontoon. Trespassing on a private domain used to be one of my dreams in high school.
The Mediterranean was picturesque, and this perfect spot to take in the ocean view was anchored by a Riva Athena, hand-built in pure Italy, a 115-foot Rolls-Royce of the sea.
Though I don’t get seasick, I was mesmerized by this baby when I first saw it, and it was hot. The name of the boat, ‘Leonie’, was inlaid in silver on the black woodgrain streamlined hull, so why wasn’t I at all curious about who owned it?
I climbed up the gangway to the deck. The dining room, living room, and function room …… were empty. I came aft to a figure lying on a lounge chair, dressed in a floral shirt, beach pants, and flip-flops, his legs folded, his arm resting under his head, a pair of sunglasses covering most of his face.
It was Vince.
Noticing me, he raised his finger in a wait-and-see gesture, then pointed to the fishing rod set up on the gangplank, the line twitching a little, a prey hooked.
I graciously gave him two minutes. Vince climbed to his feet and pulled up the rod with a languid grace in his movements. It was a lobster, and he took it off the hook and tossed it into a bucket off to the side. Great, seafood for tonight.
He re-rigged the rod, wiped his hands on a towel, and turned to me.
“Ciao.”
The word is both hello and goodbye, and I’m not sure which one he means, so I skip the reply and rush straight towards him – actions speak the best language.
He smiled and opened his arms, then, seeing my clenched fists, his face changed.
The sports announcer would say something like this: the Lyle player is raging! A left hook! Oops, Player Vince’s jaw is going to suffer! Oh, no! He dodged it at the last minute! He’s dodged it, folks!
“What’s going on?” “What’s going on?” He drops his sunglasses. “Aren’t you going to give me a hug?”
“You wish!” My lungs exploded, “You think we’re old lovers who met on vacation after twenty years apart?!” I swung my fist after him.
“We can pretend we are.” He backed up and ducked into the bedroom.
“Old enemies!” I wasn’t going to let him off the hook, “I want to make you happy and this is how you repay me? Say a bunch of crap and then wash away my memory? It was a coming back party, not a farewell party!”
“You got your memories back.” Vince’s nonchalant tone of voice was still as assholish as ever.
“That’s what I can do!” Passing by the bed, I fucked up a pillow and slammed it into him, he dodged it nimbly and I rushed up to the driver’s side with him, “You’re illegally discharging your employment, I could sue you!”
He was cornered in the sunken open bar with a dead end ahead of him and I was panting myself.
“Calm down, I have a reason.” He finally stops and turns back around.
I kind of want to do what the unbelievable heroine in a rom-com does and cover my ears and say I don’t want to hear it, but I’d better listen while Vince is still playing the gentleman, and in my experience, his patience is limited, very limited.
“I’m in trouble.” He said.
Thought there was some kind of shocking big j□j! I pretended to frown, “Wait, you’re confusing me, you mean you’ve been out of trouble before?” Or maybe he was trouble himself. I saved the latter sentence as a reserve.
“In the mood for jokes?” Vince’s expression relaxes, “I guess that means we make up.”
I’m not going to let him off that easy, he’s been reckless enough, “Don’t panic yet, you know I love to tell jokes when I’m angry too.”
Silence. Vince thought for a moment, “Go for a ride?” He thumbs up, the Adriatic Sea shining brightly in the sunlight.
I knew what he was trying to do, distract me, but I let him succeed, “I’ll drive the boat?”
“Would you forgive me if I did?”
I pretended to be reluctant, “I can think about it.”
Vince made a please gesture, “You drive.”
Yeah.
We drifted around that day until after sunset. The evening breeze was a bit chilly, and the yacht was anchored offshore with a clear view of the ocean, except in the distance, where a giant container ship was slowly approaching.
“How did you find me?” Vince asked, lying back in the leather couch.
I flipped the lobster on the grill, “Oh, it wasn’t that hard, credit card records, traffic footage …… I also know the address of every real estate property you own.” Did I mention I have a classmate in the FBI? He thought my fiancée had run off with someone else. It’s Vince’s fault, the name registered on his credit card is Vincey.
Vince nodded, “Like I said, it’s getting harder and harder to be a shadow in the crowd.”
The lobster was baked and I served it on a plate and took my seat across from him. If I could find him, let alone his enemies.
“That’s why I didn’t waste any time hiding.” He said.
I took a bite of my food, delicious, “You’re not going to tell me you’re just on vacation next, are you?”
“On the one hand, I’m always on vacation.” Vince said, “On the other hand, I’m waiting for the verdict.”
I suspect I’ve misheard, “Judgment?” I repeated, my fork hanging in the air.
“Vampire law.” Vince said, pondering for a moment as if thinking of the right wording, “Our world has some rules of the game too, like laws, though much broader.”
“You broke the law? I mean vampire ones, of course.” He’d have been sentenced to a thousand years if human laws had held him in check. Intent to injure, endangering public safety …… He seemed to have been under the impression that Rodeo Drive was the site of the Formula One Championship.
“Angelo seems to think so.”
“Who is Angelo?” I remembered what Goddess Daphne had said, “Angelo sends his regards.”
“Our living law.” Vince spread his hands.
I winced as he unfolded, “He is the oldest known vampire in this world.”
“The oldest vampire?”My mind conjured up an eerie image of a man in a long cape, hiding behind the deep windows of an old castle, looking down at the world in depression ……
Vince interrupted, “No, he was already wearing a suit when I visited him a hundred years ago.”
“That’s a shame, he could have done without the costume, Halloween is coming up.” I regretted saying that, “He’s not going to kill me for that, is he?”
Vince blinked.
Oh, what the hell, “What do you think it is about you that makes him look bad?”
“Knowingly.” Vince looked at me and together we said, “Ruiz.”
God, I thought this kind of feud went on every day in their world! TV show’s fault. I felt a pang of apprehension, “What will Angelo …… uh …… do with you?”
“Can’t say.” Vince shook his head, “He’s an unpredictable guy.”
“But it’s certainly not good.”
“Definitely bad.”
With a pang of anxiety, I stood up, “We can’t just sit around and wait.”
“Me.” Vince revised, “There’s no more of us. It’s just me, okay?”
His peremptory tone didn’t work on me in this situation, “Don’t you dare say you’re not happy to see me again.”
Vince averted his eyes, one for one.
“I had a hand in this,” I continued, “I’m not going to let you suffer the consequences alone.”
He looked up, supposedly to give me a death threat, and was just about to open his mouth when I stopped him, “Besides, I didn’t come empty handed.”
There was a rocking motion, and in the night, another speedboat split the waves and quietly came up on our port side.
The sailor skillfully rigged the cable to the bollards, and under the direction of a man in black, several large crates were carried up and displayed in front of us.
We shook hands, he led his men back to the ship, the cable was unhooked, and the speedboat whirled and disappeared. All in less than five minutes, like a well-rehearsed pantomime.
I flipped open the lid of the case and plucked away the foam shavings, and inside was a neatly organized arsenal. Ironically, the box said ‘tomatoes’.
Vince held up a Supernova and weighed it in his hand, “That’s how I got rich.” He said in a nostalgic tone.
“Smuggling arms?” I glared at him.
“Come on,” he explained, “I’m a partner in justice.”
“You’re clean now, aren’t you?” I asked sternly.
“It’s-” an emptied Coke bottle floated by and Vince raised the gun, pulling the trigger with a gunshot as it sank, “-depends on your definition of whitewash.”
I froze there. Good man Lyle, goodbye.
Vince looked up, “Promise me you’ll use this as a last resort.”
“And if that’s not enough, we can use Code Remy.” I said, “As tech support.”
Vince laughed a little, “Remy’s good, but this place is out of his sphere of influence …… Do you know Sicily?”
My heart seemed to sink as well. Sicily had a lot of character, but Vince appeared to be not referring to tourism, “You’re not going to tell me that Angelo is a …… Blood Godfather?”
Vince snapped his fingers, “Coincidentally, Muhammad used that word too.”

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