Mortal Agent of a Vampire - Chapter 28

When I woke up again, my body was plugged with wires and tubes, some kind of Spider-Man. My ears buzzed as a muzzled white lab coat told me I was in the ICU, and he said a bunch of pathology jargon about hypoxia and shock and organ failure and all that, and I was so groggy I didn’t listen to a word of it.
Then Vince came in, and I saw the concern in his gray-green eyes. He’d been sitting next to me, holding my hand. In terms of temperature, his hand was no different than ice, but I felt comforted nonetheless.
A million thoughts came flooding back, so many things I wanted to say to him, about believing he was right. I was so tired, though, that even opening my eyes was a burden, and I let myself slip into sleep.
It took two days of sleep before I regained a bit of my spirit. The nurses moved me to the general ward.
So now here I am, writing this story. Vince was in charge of taking care of me while I was ‘settling in’. To recap, I gained ten pounds.
The doctors were perplexed for a long time about my acute anemia, but of course they never found the answer.
“Are you ready?” Vince asked as he pushed his way in.
It’s discharge day and the hospital room has been cleaned up. The sunlight danced on the tip of my pen and I looked up.
“Master, you forgot to add Master.” I reminded him that the wind and water had turned, hadn’t it?
“That’s why I didn’t build you into the fireplace, isn’t it?” He asks himself.
“Perhaps,” I smiled, “because we’re friends?”
Spot on. It was now time for the referee to raise my arm and declare the contestant, Lyle, the winner.
Vince raises an eyebrow and seems to be organizing a comeback, but, with a sudden sigh, he gives up. I bet he’d already read it; I just wanted to enjoy being his friend for a little while longer.
Not surprisingly, Marlene wasn’t able to hold Gabriel off for too long. Just before I started writing this note, she stopped by briefly for a visit (I’m so glad she’s all safe). She and Vince had a long talk, and I don’t know the content of their conversation. But she revealed a little to me later, “The kittens must hide.” There was a hint of regret in her smile.
Apparently, Gabriel had learned that Vince had escaped from his pyre, and he was searching like a rabid dog for Vince’s whereabouts.
As much as it pains me to admit it, I’m a crappy helper for Vince and he’ll be more than capable of handling it himself. “Let him handle it.” Muhammad had said, and even Marlene had suggested so. So, rational choice, I had to hand over my memories once more.
“At least, this time you’ll give me a decent goodbye?” I said.
“By decent, you don’t mean throw a party, do you?” Vince asked.
I knew how to bargain, “Why not? I threw you one.”
Vince turned his face aside and after a moment he looked back at me, “Remember first?”
“Deal.” I answered cleanly, now he owed me a party, “A hug?” I suggested.
“Okay.” He shrugged his shoulders as if reluctant, “It’s tradition after all.” Yeah, he’s always respected tradition.
He walked over to me, “Don’t write it down, right?”
“Why not?” I’m still writing.
He winked and I read a hint of pleading in his expression. This guy! Didn’t he say it wouldn’t even embarrass him to run around naked at the New Year’s concert in Vienna? Liar.
Let’s stop here, after all, he blinked.

(turns page, handwriting changes)
I sat in my car, looking across the street at a country-style house.
A moment ago, right there on the porch, Lyle, clutching a paper bag of food, opened the door, and an old golden retriever rushed out, wagging its tail affectionately around his leg, and he pulled out a sausage and fed it.
Looking in the rearview mirror, I realized I was smiling knowingly. Probably why I’m writing this note, I thought. It’s not like me at all, I must say.But now that it’s started ……
“Promise me something.” Back on the day we parted, in the hospital room, we hugged, Lyle said.
Our embrace was long and hard, and Lyle’s body was so warm that it almost made me think that I was human again.
“Who’s getting reckless now?” It’s a good thing he can’t see my expression or he would have caught me giggling. Privately, it was my secret that I often laughed at the memory of one of his words or reading one of his thoughts.
“Just be reckless for a minute.” I was overwhelmed by his effort to maintain a calm tone.
“Just for a minute.” I said. But what I really wanted to say was, forever.
Lyle smiled brokenly, “Promise me you’ll come back to me when things are calm, okay?”
Against Gabriel, I had no chance of winning. But I thought about what Lyle had told me in the dungeon …… He thought I had taught him a lot, but maybe he had taught me more.
“Okay, I’ll be back.” I said, unable to contain it plus, “Within a hundred years.” Alas, candor just wasn’t in my nature.
‘Hey,’ Lyle protests, ‘a minute hasn’t even gone by yet!’
We separate.
The hospital room is silent. The clock ticked. I hear a bubble rise from the bottom of a glass vase with lilies on the nightstand.
A few moments later, Lyle closed his eyes in the crook of my arm. I helped him settle in the armchair. Sunlight pours through the blinds on his sleeping face.
I turned to leave. But as I turned my back on Lyle, it was as if something precious, something precious, drained from my body. I hastily turned back and took the notebook from Lyle’s hands.
When I did, his brow furrowed and his fingers tightened as if to express displeasure.
I half-kneeled before him, took his hand, and made a silent promise.
I would come back, even if I had to do whatever it took, I would come back to him.

(Turns page, fresh handwriting)
Two years! Two years! This notebook has finally returned to me! And so is my Lamplighter! I’m so happy I’m going crazy!
By the way, to reintroduce myself, Lyle Firth, freelance writer – will write interludes.
When I disappeared back for the third time, the editor finally decided not to put up with me anymore, “Anytime, uh, if you want to contribute in the future.”
I felt relieved when he said that, which was strange, as if I’d been expecting to be fired. The day after I got home, I got up early, my mom made me bacon omelettes, my favorite, and after breakfast, I started working on my book.
A real book.
“Why did you decide to spare my memory,” I paused, “my friend?” Now, that’s my new name for Vince, he can never call me a servant again, because then he’d be a servant’s friend, lame.
We were on the second-floor terrace of the small Pantheon, it was a clear spring day, and the Rancourt bubinga planted around the house was sending out a warm scent, and Vince was reclining in a chaise longue, wearing sunglasses. Yes, he had only hypnotized me when we said goodbye, and when the nurse woke me up, everything was still there. And for the record, a chair is not one of the places you would like to sleep either. Why are you doing this to me, there’s obviously a bed next to that.
Vince was about to reply when I suddenly had an idea, “Oh wait, I know, because …… we’re friends, right?” I gestured between us.
Vince took a deep breath, “You’re forcing me to cut you off.”
“Don’t, then you won’t have any friends.” Ugh, that joke never gets tired.
Vince was silent, he must be in deep introspection right now.
After a while he resumed speaking, “Marlene taught me a lesson.”
“She tamed your naughty kitty?” I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Goddess Daphne, feeling bathed in the light of the Virgin Mary.
Vince waved his hand, “That’s not the point. The point is that I’ve finally realized that I’m not the king of the world, your memories belong to you, and I have no right to make them for you.”
“Wow.” I applauded, “Two hundred years and you finally realized it!”
“Call the Guinness Book of Records?”
“I have to.”
Together we looked down at the lawn and the fountain pool as the crabs cleaned up the fallen petals. It felt wonderful, ideal, like life was supposed to be like that.
There was one mystery left, and my latent reporter’s nature kicked in again, “Hmmm ……” I stammered for a while, “Gabriel, tell me, how did you swing it?”
Vince braced himself halfway up, tilted down his sunglasses and stared at me, “No shit, what happened to the promised open ending?”
“Let’s say you’re a reader,” I put him in his place, “Would you like, what, an open ending?”
Vince thought about it, “Makes sense.” He repositioned himself in the recliner, “But promise me, this series is over.”
“Scared the shit out of me,” I covered my chest, “I thought you were I was going to close the book so as not to flood the publishing world with garbage – okay, come on!”
“Do you remember, um ……” Vince was organizing his words, “the guy who got buried in Paris?”
“The one with the bugs gnawing on his face?” I said. He affirmed.
The next words surprised me.
“I put him out.” He smiled, “Gabriel is busy right now.”
God, how could he be so bad?