"A Vampire's History of the World" (closed)

[PennySaver]

"A Vampire's History of the World"

closed​

Claudia huddled in the cold behind a smelly dumpster near the termination of a dead end alley, listening to the fading footsteps of the four men who had been chasing her through the dark of the city. She was trembling and weak; it had been nearly a month since she'd fed, and her beyond human characteristics had weakened to the point that at the moment she was more vulnerable than most regular girls who were the age she appeared, which many thought might be 19 or 20; she could feel down deep that her near-immortality had also ceased to be a factor and that -- again like most females and males, too -- she was aging at the normal rate that the Gods had determined for the planet's dominant species.

She needed to feed; that was a gimme. She hated to feed; that was a fact as well.

Once she no longer heard the footsteps, Claudia stood and made her way to the mouth of the alley to study her surroundings. She had gotten turned around while being chased -- again, lacking her exceptional skills -- and could barely tell north from south, let alone know how to get back to the Squat in which she'd been living for several months. She chose a direction, found a road sign that identified the proper direction, and walked with purpose into the night.

Reaching a corner several blocks later, Claudia realized that she'd come upon The Garment. It was an old neighborhood that, once upon a time, had been the center of Boston's now nearly extinct garment district. These days, the old buildings were either being demolished and replaced or renovated with new wiring plumbing, fire protection, and other dictated improvements.

Across the street was a little café that closed its door in a few minutes. It had been an unusually warm night, and the owner or hostess or whoever the worker there was had only begun bringing in the chairs and taking down the umbrellas of the tables that were chained down in place. There was a couple drinking hot drinks and sitting close together, likely lovers; a man sat alone at the table nearest the little fence encircling the sitting area. Claudia's stomach rolled over, reminding her that she actually suffered from two forms of nutritional hunger while mere humans suffered only one.

Claudia noticed a table in front of the man that hadn't yet been cleared of its plates and glasses. Trying to look casual and unhurried, she crossed the street and walked up to the railing. She smiled politely to the man as he looked up from his book, and when he returned to his reading, she quickly snatched the half eaten scone. She turned her back to the man, not wanting him -- or the distant shop hostess either -- seeing her scarfing down the first real food she'd had in four days.

When she was done with the pastry, Claudia looked over her shoulder and found the man staring at her over his book. She didn't smile this time but just stared him down until his interest failed once again. Now she noticed on a table further into the patio with most of a half of a sandwich and some chips. The hostess had noticed Claudia and was watching her. Claudia turned her back and lifted her hand to her temple as if she was using a cell phone which, of course, didn't exist.

When the hostess became occupied with someone inside the shop, Claudia literally leaped over the short metal fence -- not a beyond human skill but one most people could accomplish -- and hurried over to snatch up the sandwich. The hostess caught her, though, and hollered, "Hey! Want me to call the cops?"

Claudia hesitated, staring at the woman, then snatched up and began eating the sandwich rebelliously. The hostess glared at her but otherwise did nothing about the theft of an abandoned sandwich. Claudia shot the now-departing lovebirds a glare when they did the same to her, then looked to the reading man for his reaction to it all. When she'd stuffed the remains of the food in her mouth, Claudia once again leaped the fence and walked down the block.

A few minutes later, the man with the book also departed the café and was heading for either the nearby carpark or the equally near stop for what would be the last train of the night.

"That's wrong, ya know," a female voice said meekly from the shadows, startling the man. A moment later Claudia stepped out just far enough to let a street lamp light her up. Her arms were clutched about her torso protectively; she had the look of a tweaker is desperate need of a fix. She pointed to the historical book he'd been reading, telling him with a hesitant tone, "I know that book. The author … he was wrong. When he says that the reorganization of the Civil Constitution of the Clergy in 1790 was, in part, responsible for the civil war..."

She hesitated a moment, tightening her grip on her body. "That wasn't it at all."

She studied the man for a moment, then asked, "Can you help me, please. I … I'm lost, and I don't know … I don't have any place to sleep."

 

[Knightmare27]

Michael Hanes had not been a full professor for very long, but now he had made it. Reached the top of the career ladder in his field, as it were. That field was history, and, in many ways, he did fit the stereotype of the shy, bookish geek. He dressed better, though. He had never seen a need to conform to that stereotype where you could identify the department head by looking for the one who looked homeless. With his blazers (dark blue was his favorite color for them) and well-fitted pants, he looked much more like a business professor than a history one.

He was also fitter than most of his colleagues. Since the divorce three years ago, he had practically split his time between history and a fairly rigorous workout routine, giving him quite the enviable body for a man in his early forties. He did notice the eyes of some of the women (and men) following him through the lecture hall whenever he was teaching. Of course, he never took advantage of that. He was not that kind of professor.

The term for his appearance was "silver fox", he believed, and it fit his longish face with the cunning black eyes, as well as the short silver hair on his head. He looked for all the world like some successful upper-management type, except he had less money.

It was a regular day for him. An introductory seminar on the War of the Roses, a lecture, then work on his paper (a comparison between the Code Napoléon and the ideas of the enlightenment thinkers which had the potential to kick off some nice cross-discipline debates with the fellows over at the philosophy department), then another lecture.

The day's lectures done, he had retreated to his favorite café to do a little light reading and enjoy a coffee - of course, to him, light reading and work were dangerously close sometimes. What could he say? He loved his work. He loved history. The way everything fit together, and the mysterious nooks and crannies where it did not. He was obsessed with those and sometimes, like all historians, wished he had a time machine to see for himself. Alas, all that was left for them was what a lawyer would call circumstantial evidence.

A woman who looked very much down on her luck, maybe an addict of some sort, approached and shot him a polite smile. He smiled back, hoping she was not one of the crazy ones. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her arm shoot towards the table in front of him and the half-eaten pastry disappear. He let his book drop and looked on in fascination until a glare from her made him decide that he preferred reading. Oh crap, one of the crazy ones!

As he walked to the car park, he suddenly heard a soft female voice call out to him from behind, then reveal herself. Wait a second - that was the same drifter from before! And now she was calling his book wrong? Either she was an unusually erudite drifter, or she really was completely off her rocker. Not wanting to agitate her further, he gave her a sheepish smile. "I...see. Well, if you could tell me your source on that..."

Before he could continue, she did something that was much more expected: She asked for a place to sleep. Well, who could blame her? By the look of her, she had not eaten in quite some time, and she did look desperate. Still, he was not comfortable taking some stranger home with him, even one who was apparently interested in history, and, he realized now that he had had a better look at her, young and pretty.

"Sorry, I have no place to sleep for you. But if you want to go somewhere, where you can sleep..." he hesitated. He was taking a massive risk. What if she was a mugger? He did not have much money on him, but if she was desperate, she would probably stab him for the measly twenty-three dollars and nineteen cents in his pockets. Drugs did that to a person.

"I can take you somewhere, if you want.", he finally concluded, shaking a bit inside. Either he was about to be robbed, or he was about to help a pitiful girl in her worst need. He had just taken his chances on that.

He was not quite sure whether his day had just taken a turn for the worse, but it certainly had taken a turn for the weird now that this strange woman kept following him. Where would it take him? Into a ditch somewhere, his money robbed and his car stolen? Safely back to his bed, with the warm, fuzzy feeling of having helped a desperate young woman? Or, added a voice from much further below, also in bed, but in for an exciting night of debating history...yes, debating history with this girl?

He told that last voice to shut up and waited for the outcome of his fateful decision to help her.

 

[PennySaver]

"Sorry, I have no place to sleep for you."

Claudia was disappointed in the man's response but not at all surprised; she looked like a tweaker, had eaten abandoned food from strangers' plates, and given him one of those your money or your life glares.

"But if you want to go somewhere, where you can sleep … I can take you somewhere, if you want."

She didn't immediately take him up on his offer; she was as anxious about this as he was. But after a moment, she began moving slowly closer -- not at him, but in a sort of glancing-off direction, tangential, wasn't that the word? -- until they were both walking slowly toward the car for which he'd been heading.

"Thank you," she said in barely more than a whisper. "There's a place … Neponset … by the freeway … I stay there sometimes. If you could take me there..."

She was surprised when he told her he could. Claudia couldn't know, of course, that the abandoned projects building in which she'd squatted a few months earlier was actually on the man's way home. They walked in near silence to the carpark until she gestured again toward his book. She started talking about the categories of the Napoleonic Code and the influences upon each from Justinian's sixth-century codification of Roman law as if she, herself, had published a paper upon them. She spoke of the Corpus Juris Civilis and The Institutes as easily as if she were recounting the well known plot to Star Wars, A New Hope or Frozen.

They reached his car, and when she turned to look the man in the eyes for the first time since his offer, she saw an expression of surprise in his eyes. She shrugged innocently, telling him, "You don't have to believe me. There's a paper by Alexandre Dumas that speaks on it. No one reads it, because it wasn't his normal style or subject. You can find a copy of it online, I'm sure."

Claudia was only guessing at that, as she'd never actually been online before. She was right, however; the work was online … and it did back everything she was telling him, precisely, and some of what Claudia had told the man was very much different or even opposite of what he and nearly every other historian in the world today believed. Oh, it was just subtle stuff, but it was stuff that -- if written in a paper today, say, by a Professor in Boston -- would get some major attention from his historical community.

Of course, Claudia wasn't telling him this because she really cared about history. She was telling him this because she was hoping that -- if she piqued his interest -- he wouldn't abandon her at some dangerous, gutted, cold and wet projects building.

 

[Knightmare27]

As he listened to Claudia, he grew ever more intrigued and confused. What she was saying made sense - in a world where some fundamental facts about history were exactly reversed. He had no idea if her claims were true, of course, but the mere fact that she talked about these things with such confidence, or, in some cases, even knew about these things, was amazing.

"If some of what you say is true, we will have to rewrite whole libraries. Dumas? Not exactly a historian, if you refer to the writer. He wrote historical novels, not scholarly works. And I am sure you did not get all that from one author who, as far as I know, never wrote such things. Where does all this come from?"

Yes, where did it? She couldn't have been older than 25, and she really did not look like a history student. And even history students did not normally sound that self-assured while contradicting some of the basic facts he had founded his entire work on.

The area he was taking her to looked incredibly run-down. It looked as if she might not survive the night if he dropped her off there. He could not risk putting the young woman in that much danger.

"Do you mind if I do not abandon you to the wolves here? How long has it been since you slept in a proper bed?"

He was sure she would not mind, so he turned the car around and drove a bit until he found a motel that was open and not too close to the slum she had pointed him to. He was already quite tired by the time they had checked in and made their way up to their room.

It was a simple, clean room that smelled strongly of whatever they had used to get it that clean. He hated sleeping in places like that when he traveled to conferences, but it was probably much better than whatever she was used to sleeping in.

"If you want to continue telling me your intriguing theories, I will be at the café where we...met tomorrow, too. I will even pay for your pastries, so you do not have to run for your life again."

As he turned to leave, he felt relieved. Not only had she turned out not to be a mugger, she had also turned out to be in real need of help, which he had given her. And she had said those things.... now, there was a good chance that she was just making it up, especially the parts which went against everything he had ever learned and taught, but if she was not - then he had to see her again. She was either about to revolutionize the field with knowledge she had from...somewhere, or the most confident loon he had ever met. Either way, she piqued his interest.

 

[PennySaver]

"If some of what you say is true," he responded to her historical claims, "we will have to rewrite whole libraries."

He spoke on Alexandre Dumas a moment, pointing out that the writer famed for The Count of Monte Cristo, The Three Musketeers, and other famous works had been known for his historical writings. Claudia agreed, but then began naming off a number of non-fiction works that had been written by the man who'd died 150 years ago. The papers' names were obviously not known by her discussion partner. But Claudia had used their original French titles with a sudden assumption of a perfect Parisian accent and that had seemed to intrigue the man.

Then he asked, "Where does all this come from?"

Claudia stared at him in silence for a moment, unsure of how to answer. She couldn't very well tell him that the reason he hadn't read any of those works was because they'd never been published and that she had read the original drafts while working as a house keeper for Alexandre from 1841-43. After all, telling him that she was even older than Dumas wouldn't have helped her immediate goal, would it.

When they got to the squat, her asked, "Do you mind if I do not abandon you to the wolves here? How long has it been since you slept in a proper bed?"

Claudia once again shrugged, answering vaguely, "A while."

When he suggested a nearby motel, Claudia nearly told him no, thinking that he'd decided that his Good Samaritan act deserved a roll in the sack. But when they got to the front desk, he told the clerk there was no need to give his car's license plate because he wasn't staying.

"Will you walk me to my room, please, though?" she asked. "I'm kinda afraid to go in alone … but … then you can leave."

Once in the room he told her, she told him, "My name is Claudia ... Claudia Francois."

He told her his name, and Claudia smiled. "Hanes, from Haine, with an I but no S. Ancient Anglo-Saxons … they were most commonly found in Lincolnshire, where they held a family seat from ancient times. They predated the Norman Conquest and the arrival of William in..."

Claudia caught the expression on Michael's face and went quiet for a moment. Barely above a whisper she meekly finished, "...1066 … or so I read."

Michael told her, "If you want to continue telling me your intriguing theories, I will be at the café where we...met tomorrow, too. I will even pay for your pastries, so you do not have to run for your life again."

"I would like that very much," Claudia said with eagerness. They made plans to meet at noon, but before he walked away, she asked tentatively, "I don't suppose you could loan me some money … for coffee and a pastry in the morning. I'll pay you back. You've already done so much for me already, so … I would understand if … you know."

 

[Knightmare27]

Of course... Dumas was not normally thought of as a historical writer, but of course he had been. He chalked this embarrassing mistake up to his tiredness. He was not too tired to notice that, aside from all other strangeness this woman had about her, she apparently also spoke French. Of course she spoke French. It went perfectly with her knowledge of obscure historical literature and her tendency to (accurately, as far as he could tell) explain the etymologies of their surnames to near-complete strangers. Who was she?

Without further thought, he had loaned her the money, as requested. He had been too dazed by the situation to think much about it.

Now it was almost noon the next day, and he was sitting in his usual seat at the café, waiting for her. What he had done this morning had made him more eager to see her again than ever before - sure, half of the facts she had given him and that he had remembered were contradicted by every source he could find. However, the other half was not only accurate - it was extremely obscure knowledge, some of which was news even to him. For example, some of the book titles by Dumas she had given - in flawless French, no less! - definitely existed. The other half did not. What was up with that? Was she half history professor (at 24 at most???) and half pathological liar?

There was still some time to ponder these questions and enjoy his coffee - a most excellent brew he always had black with two sugars - while waiting to see if she would keep their appointment. Fortunately, there was a different waiter on duty today, not the one who had caught her wolfing down half-eaten food like the starving woman she probably was.

It was a warm day, and he was just in his white shirt today, with no tie. It was short-sleeved, showing his arms, which were quite muscular for a history professor.

A busy time at the café. Guests were sitting at the various tables, chatting, enjoying their pastries, drinking coffee. At the neighboring table, two people, most likely engineers, were having a heated debate about something called a Reynolds number. Four old men behind him were playing some kind of card game and being quite, quite loud about it. A bit farther away, a large group, maybe students, though he did not recognize any of them, were sitting and enjoying refreshing beers.

A thought occurred to him - would she find her way back? And would she have transportation to get there? Two important questions that neither of them had thought about in their tired state last evening. He had dropped her off somewhere - not even he was entirely sure where. And he had loaned her enough money for breakfast. Not for a bus, or a taxi. He had been an idiot... they had been idiots. Well, now he could only hope that she had gotten creative and found some kind of solution.

 

[PennySaver]

Claudia's plan for the night had been something of which the Professor likely never would have imagined: she was going to sleep until noon, which happened to be check out, then wander off to one of the four regular squats where she felt relatively safe … and forget about the man. She'd gotten all she thought she would from the man without him discovering just what she was, and Claudia couldn't have that as it would mean the necessity of killing him, as she had so many people who'd discovered her secret over the centuries.

But there had been something about this man that she hadn't felt about anyone else in decades: true interest. He was a learned man who -- unlike so many who had concluded that they knew all they needed to know -- was obviously searching for more and deeper and more interesting information in a world that was full of and ready to impart with such knowledge if only you knew where to look.

And because of this, Claudia's plan changed.

In the morning -- after having not slept, because she simply didn't at night -- she began watching the comings and goings beyond the motel room's window. She took an opportunity to snatch a suitcase when its owner wandered too far away from it. In it, Claudia found make up and clothing that -- just a size too large -- fit her comfortably. She showered in cold water, which helped to slow her metabolism, which raced when she hadn't recently fed.

Just short of noon, she went outside again and caught the eye of guy who was just checking in, likely before going off to some meeting or conference or something. Claudia told him that if he could give her a ride downtown, they might have dinner and maybe more that night. He didn't see her carrying bags out of her room, so he had no idea she was skipping; he dropped her off a block from the café, and a couple of minutes later, Claudia stepped into the fence and walked up to Michael's table with a hesitant expression on her face.

"Hi," she said softly, waiting for him to invite her to sit. The lunch waitress caught sight of the new patron and came over to take her order. Claudia looked to her host as if to ensure that he was paying, and once she knew she wouldn't have to be jumping the fence again, Claudia went a bit overboard, ordering a Chef Salad, a BLT with extra T, and a large orange juice, milk, and coffee. As the waitress walked away, she looked back to Michael, caught his expression, and asked meekly, "Was that too much?"

 

[Knightmare27]

Her shy manner was endearing to him and reminded him of his own daughter whom he missed now that he was only allowed to see her so rarely. The same hesitation before approaching the same sheepish awkwardness when she was not quite sure she had done something right. It made him feel even better about having helped her.

He smiled back. "Well...you must be hungry." Yes, it was a lot, but it did seem like she did not eat that regularly, so he had no problem with it. She was thirsty, too, going by the amount of drink she ordered.

"Now...Claudia...I researched a little today, and some of the things you told me are incredibly obscure bits that even I did not recall immediately. And the other half was totally contradictory to anything I could find. Did you study history before you ended up homeless?"

Even that would not have explained everything, but it would have been a beginning. No history student knew all of these facts. It was just the only explanation he could think of. Hopefully, he would soon learn more about this mysterious, well-read, not to mention beautiful, young woman.

 

[PennySaver]

"Well...you must be hungry," Michael responded when Claudia questioned about whether or not she'd gone overboard with her order.

"I need to pee," she said without thinking about how inappropriate it was to blurt it out that way. She apologized and promised softly, "I'll be right back."

Claudia didn't hurry finishing in the cafe's ladies' room. Like the motel, this was a luxury when compared to any of the squats. By the time she returned to the table, her entire order was laid out before her. She smiled from ear to ear and dove in, asking Michael several times whether or not he wanted a bite of this or a bite of that.

There was still a lot left when her stomach told her she was full. Claudia began noting some of the people sitting around them, and when Michael turned to look at them she lowered the remains of her BLT to her lap, rolled it in napkins, and added it to her stash in the purse. She wanted to take some of the salad remains, too, but she feared making a mess that simply wasn't worth it. She thought she got away with the hoarding, but the expression on Michael's face made Claudia think that he'd either caught her or simply wondered whether she's shoved the quarter-sandwich in her mouth and gobbled it down.

"Now...Claudia...I researched a little today," he began after she'd asked to order dessert as well. He continued, finishing, "Did you study history before you ended up homeless?"

Her reaction was probably not that which he expected as she snapped back, "I'm not homeless."

Instantly, Claudia felt like an idiot; last night, she'd asked him to drop her at an abandoned building occupied by transients, mentals, and tweakers. She dropped her eyes to the table directly before her, hesitated, and meekly clarified, "I'm … I just … don't have a home at the moment.

It was hard for Claudia to face what had become of her. She'd lived many lifetimes, something for which any regular person would beg to experience. And yet she'd rarely been truly happy during those years, decades, and centuries. She could have been; she'd had the ability to be very happy and very comfortable. But the cost had been too high. How does one elevate one's own life by ending that of another?

"I knew a man who read a lot," Claudia answered vaguely, lying of course as her eyes still on the nearest edge of her nearly empty plate. In truth, she'd seen and lived through these times about which she'd spoken with such clarity and authority. But Claudia couldn't tell Michael that. She continued the lie, "He was a collector of obscure writings … books and pamphlets … letters, personal letters. I saw them … and sometimes I read them. That's all. There's nothing more to it than that."

 

[Knightmare27]

By the way she not only devoured her sandwich but also carefully packed up the leftovers, she had to be ravenous. He just sat there, enjoying his coffee, watching her eat with the kind of appetite only starvation could produce. A warm, fuzzy feeling spread in his chest. He had really helped someone in deepest need. Thanks to him, she was eating for what looked like the first time in days (a meal she had not stolen, at least), and she had spent the last night in a motel room instead of somewhere on the streets.

He smiled at her making a distinction between homeless and "not having a home", but it seemed to be a point of pride to her. Who liked to be called "homeless?" And besides, she did not look anything like the stereotypical homeless person. Had he not seen her steal food, had she not begged him for a place to stay, she would have easily passed for one of his students.

He was not quite sure he believed her. "A man who read a lot"? That did not explain much. But if he really existed, he had to meet that man. "Can you tell me his name? If his collection of texts is even a fraction as exciting as you make them sound, it would be enough to revolutionize history."

 

[PennySaver]

"A man who read a lot"?

It didn't take a genius -- which, in some ways, Claudia was -- to know that Michael didn't believe her. But she just continued to stare at her plate while picking at the more delicious parts of her salad's remains with her fingers and popping them into her mouth.

"Can you tell me his name?"

Her spontaneous story was falling apart. One might have thought that after having been alive for so many centuries and being asked about herself so many uncountable times, that Claudia would have had a better response by now than I know a guy with a bunch of books.

"If his collection of texts is even a fraction as exciting as you make them sound, it would be enough to revolutionize history--"

"I have to go," Claudia interrupted suddenly, hopping up out of her chair and fleeing toward the cafe's entrance. She didn't look back but called back a simple, "Thank you, Michael."

##################​

Fourteen days later, Claudia was standing under the crosswalk sign kitty corner to the cafe's outside seating area, looking passed the constant dance of cars at Michael Hanes, sitting right where she'd seen him that first time. It was her first time back here since that day, and she couldn't help but wonder Has he been coming here everyday, hoping to find me … or … is this coincidence, and this is his first back as well?

"Hi," she greeted him meekly when she stepped up close. From her side of the seating area's decorated wrought iron fence, Claudia nervously looked between her fumbling fingers and the man she'd wronged by taking his assistance and then simply disappearing. She looked over her shoulder at the nearby park and asked, "Will you walk with me?"

 

[Knightmare27]

He could not do anything but stare after her in surprise as she took off like a rocket. By now, he was convinced she had been lying about the man with the books. But why? For the life of him, he could not figure any unethical or even immoral way to gain historical knowledge. The unlikely idea that she had stolen a cache of documents crossed his brain. But that was ridiculous. And besides, was she really afraid to be arrested by him for it?


*****************************************************************


He was startled to see Claudia here, especially after her odd exit last time. What had been up with that? "Sure", he said, a little unsure what innocent question would make her take off unexpectedly this time.

He had invited her to a hot-dog stand, and, unsurprisingly, she had accepted. He watched her devour the biggest hot dog they had on offer, then another one, with growing fascination.

"Please don't run away again like last time. I just want to know...why did you run? Did I remind you of something?"

Without noticing it, he had bent forward a little, as if he expected her to bolt again. Man, that girl really liked to run, didn't she?

 

[PennySaver]

Even before she crossed the street, Claudia was already dreaming of another BLT, extra T. But once she was standing there, looking about at the eyes that seemed to be studying the homeless girl beyond the fence, she thought it was better that they not stay here. He paid his check, joined her, and -- thank god -- gestured her toward a hot dog stand just beyond the park's row of decades old arborvitae.

"Please don't run away again like last time," Michael asked as she was woofing down a second dog. "I just want to know...why did you run? Did I remind you of something?"

Just as he suspected, Claudia was cocked and loaded to sprint away again. But, it been an instinctive reaction; she wasn't consciously preparing to abandon him again. She relaxed a bit, then gestured him toward the long shadowy area created by the tall trees, mentioning that it was a bit warm. Actually, it was barely into the 60s, but -- having not fed again for so long -- Claudia's metabolism was running like a gazelle before a pursuing cheetah.

"I'm sorry about that," she said softly. They walked another thirty yards or more in silence as the contemplated how to answer his question. "I … I don't know people like you … knowledgeable people … educated people. I … I get nervous sometimes … when asked questions..."

She glanced up at Michael's face for just an instant; it was the first time she'd looked into his eyes since back at his table. A slight, nervous smile spread her lips. She looked down to the sidewalk again, suggesting, "Maybe … maybe we could just walk for a little bit … you know … without you asking me question...?"

That little bit turned out to be almost half a mile, a wobbly figure eight trek through or past the park's fountain, duck pond, playground, and former tennis court which -- after years of disuse -- had recently been turned into a spectacular skating park.

"I was thinking," Claudia finally said, breaking a silence that had been building toward volcanic eruption strength. She hesitated a moment, then continued, "I was thinking … that maybe you could look for book by an Englishman named Walter Anderson."

She glanced up to see if Michael was familiar with the name. His reaction seemed to indicate the answer was yet, though, Claudia couldn't know whether or not he was intimately familiar with the man's work.

"In 1769, he published a history of France," she continued, sounding again like just a well educated college undergrad. But then, returning to her odd way of presenting things, she added, "In it, he makes comment on how Francis II ascended to the throne of France at fifteen after the accidental death of his father."

She glanced up at Michael again as she asked, "Are you familiar with Jean Antoine d'Averhoult?"

This time, Claudia saw a different expression; was it ignorance of the name or knowledge about how the Dutch military officer had been at the center of many controversies regarding the affairs of the French state? She continued, "If you can find his autobiography … online perhaps? I've never used the internet, so … I don't know. If you can find it, you will find a reference to a Lady Claire of Vreeswijk."

Claudia was speaking of people who were not your typically studied historical figures and, yet, had played major roles in the small things that led small men to do great things. She continued, "Lady Claire … was the mistress of Francis's father, Henry … and she killed him."

Claudia sensed a reaction from Michael and looked up to him, this time for a lasting moment as she claimed, "You can read about it in her diary, which I know for a fact is in the archives of the Musée National du Moyen-Age."

She smiled a bit, the first time she'd done so since ordering her first BLT and a chef salad so many days ago. She could practically hear the gears turning in Michael's head, but wondered what thoughts were being created."

She listened to his response to her claims but cut him off, saying, "This is information that, with some digging -- perhaps days or weeks of it -- a smart, connected history professor could uncover with ease … information that with what I've revealed, you could find while no one else in the world had ever thought to look for it."

She stopped short, waiting for him to stop and face her, then boldly asked, "If you were to look for this … and if you were to find it … and find that I am write … would that be worth something to you … perhaps … a place for me to sleep?"

 

[Knightmare27]

The facts she mentioned were the now familiar mixture of intricate historical knowledge and utter nonsense... well, at least according to what he knew. Yet both were stated with the same confidence by this strange woman, almost as if she had lived through them.

Her boundless energy and his enthusiasm to hear more from her turned the little walk into an extensive tour of the entire park. The weather was chilly, but he liked the fresh air in his face as he listened to what she had to say. Past ponds and playgrounds they went, but his attention was mainly on her, and also on wondering how she knew.

He smiled when he realized what her endgame was. Of course. She was still desperate for a place to sleep... well, he could not wait to hear more from her, and she seemed trustworthy enough. Not to mention hot...

"Well...okay. I will let you stay at my place for a few days. I have some spare room there anyway now..." - his voice trailed off, the divorce was still a tough topic for him - "so, yes. Let's go there and we can be a bit more comfortable while discussing this."

By this point, he was unsure what his main motive was here. Was he really that intrigued by her knowledge? Or by where she got that knowledge? Or was he simply becoming a lonely old horndog who was all too eager to have a cute young woman around the house? Probably a combination of all three, if he was honest with himself.

He also hoped that maybe he could get her to trust him enough that she revealed the source of her knowledge to him... surely she would be grateful enough to do that? He still could not figure out what dark, terrible secret could be behind a collection of historical facts which, while astonishing to an expert, would have caused nothing but instant deep sleep to a layman. That was not usually the kind of knowledge one committed terrible crimes for...

Well, he would take her home after this walk, prepare the unused bedroom for her and wait for her to calm down and realize that he was just a harmless history professor she could trust.

 

[PennySaver]

"You have a nice home," Claudia said once she was inside the living room, glancing around.

She'd said it more out of obligation than out of admiration; sure, it seemed comfortable and all, and it was clean, warm, and dry -- something the squat wasn't -- but then it wasn't the Taj Mahal. But as she began a slow walk about the home, she began noticing that this man seriously brought his work home with him; there were books, pamphlets, digital collections, art work, and reams of notes and notebooks in which he'd been performing his historical investigations

"What is your primary area of study again?" Claudia asked him after she was unable to recall if he'd told her that first day. She caught sight of both a desk top computer and a laptop and presumed that all of those notes were being put together there for his future presentation. "Are you wanting one of those … what's that degree called … PhD...? Wait, you're already a professor, right...? Does that mean you already have one of those?"

She asked for something to drink -- "Big glass of citrus if you have it" -- and listened to Michael talk about his work again. She smiled a bit as she looked to him, thinking, I can certainly help you with that... and recalling that overused saying from a decade or two earlier she finished the thought, ...been there, done that.

"Where will I be sleeping?" she asked after she'd let him go on for what seemed like an appropriate amount of time. He showed her to the room; it looked like it might have once been something more than a guest room, and -- taking into considerations other things she'd seen -- Claudia wondered whether or not the room's previous use had been associated to the unnamed, unmentioned woman who obviously was no longer in Michael's life. "Thank you. I will be very comfortable here."

They worked together to make up the previously bare mattress, after which Claudia stated with a matter of fact tone, "I stink and need to bathe. Where...?"

Michael showed her to the bathroom and found her a towel and washrag; he even found a box of abandoned girly things under sink counter. She told him as she was urging him outward, "I won't be long … and then we'll talk more … while we eat. I saw a pizza takeout menu on the fridge...?"

Once the door was closed, Claudia simply studied herself in the mirror for a long moment. She was concerned; she had been since she'd intentionally left the squat this morning hoping beyond hope to locate Michael Hanes this morning. She was hungry … and a BLT, extra T, wasn't going to fill that hunger. When that hunger came upon her, Claudia typically found what -- who -- she wanted down in one of the squats. She'd never had trouble finding some man or even some woman to slip off to a quiet place alone for a few minutes.

But after meeting Michael and realizing what he was and what he could offer, relative to what she herself had to offer in return, Claudia had begun thinking long term. The only problem was the very obvious one: how did she utilize Michael Hanes long term … without him realizing that she was what this culture and so many others before it from all across the world thought of as vampires?

She hated that word; it was so not what she was … at least ... in her mind. Yes, she survived only because she consumed human blood. Vampire. And yes, she had beyond human abilities when recently she'd fed. Vampire. But after that, she was just a normal, little, human girl … trying to survive alone and on her own in a harsh world. Okay, so, she'd been doing it for more than 400 years … yeah, yeah, yeah … Vampire, we get it!

But still … in so many ways, she was still just that little French girl from the Bourdonné countryside, west of Paris, who'd been out tending the goats when a handsome, wealthy, charismatic man from the city came by and essentially bought her from her parents. They'd known what he'd wanted from Claudia ... or at least they thought they had; there were a lot of rich man from Paris who scoured the poorer rural areas for little girls. And there were a lot of destitute parents with daughters to spare who were willing to give them up for con.

Despite having given their daughter away for silver, Claudia's parents would have been relieved to learn that the man had had no interest in violating her body in that way. At the same time, they would have been horrified to learn just exactly what he was going to do with her. The man shackled Claudia and forced her into a hard life of domestic labor by day … and twice a moon, sometimes more, he came to her bedroom, put his mouth to her neck, sunk his fangs into her soft flesh, and consumed just enough of her to sustain himself, while not rendering her unable to perform her laborious duties for more than a day or two.

Ironically, over the years that followed, as the man's treatment of Claudia improved and her resentment for him waned, they would come to fall in love. The man had long since ceased shackling Claudia to the wall near her bed at night, and -- after she'd reached her adult age -- she'd begun coming to his bed instead for sleep and other interactions.

After more years and the realization that she was aging but he wasn't, Claudia told him she wanted to stay with him forever. He'd made it possible by making her like him. He promised her a life of near immortality and lasting contentment if not deep happiness. She'd believed him; he'd been alive since before the Birth of Christ and surely could teach Claudia how to live as long as well.

But he hadn't. Only days into their new life together, he'd ventured out during the day on an unavoidable task, unprotected by his beyond human abilities ... and he hadn't returned. Claudia fled at the arrival of strangers to the home, men with guns ... and she'd been running ever since.

Here now, in Michael's home, Claudia contemplated all of the men with whom she'd taken up residence ... for days, months, years on a couple of occasions. Only twice had she volunteered what she was; neither time had ended well. Thrice more, her secret had been found out by her host and -- like those other times -- those times had ceased in ways Claudia would have preferred not happened. So many times, questions had begun to arise that led her to simply disappear in the night, never to be seen again.

What would be the result of this new relationship?

Claudia began filling the tub and stripped off her clothing. Once naked, she checked her reflection in the mirror; she couldn't help but think to herself, See reflection ... vampires don't have reflections, so, I must not be one. She took a moment to study her naked body; she'd been told by many people -- mostly but not exclusively men -- that she was a beautiful young woman, and she'd been told by many people -- again, not exclusively men -- that they'd enjoyed that body once they were done availing themselves of it. She had no real opinion of her beauty, though, with her only concern about her apparent attractive body being that men -- yes, and women -- were more likely to assist her because of it.

Was that why Michael had brought her home with him?

Claudia slipped down into the cold water, submerging herself entirely; the 49.9 degree temperature slowed her metabolism significantly, washing an almost orgasmic feeling over her. After several minutes, she pushed her feet against the end of the tub to push her head slowly up out of the water. She felt the best she had since last she'd fed ... and yet ... Claudia still knew ... she had to feed soon.

She emptied the tub and turned on the shower, using a bottle of girly soap to clean every inch of her and water just warm enough to thoroughly wash away the lather. She washed her hair once, twice, thrice; it had been dirty, yes, but the simple feeling of cleansing it was delicious as well. She looked down to the thick bush at the junction of her thighs and looked to the pink disposable razors sitting on the counter. She contemplated shaving down there but didn't; it wasn't something she'd ever done to herself, and the last time she'd had it done for her had been more than a decade ago by the twice her age woman who had taken her into her home and bed.

"Is the pizza here?" she asked as she padded barefoot into the dining room where Michael was standing. Claudia wore only a bath towel; it cut across her bosom just barely above her nipples and only reached to about 2 inches past her sex, which -- if he braved taking a glance -- also left the lower curvatures of her firm, well curved ass on display. With no consideration for whether or not she was indecently gowned or not, Claudia only said, "I'm starving."

 

[Knightmare27]

"Thanks," he answered as automatically as she had complimented him. Well, it was nice. He had never complained about it, but, then again, he did not spend so much time there. Especially now that he lived alone and too many places reminded him of exactly why he did. Still, yes, he liked it here, even though he treated it as more of an extension of his office that also happened to be where his bed was.

Her question about academic titles made his eyes widen a little. Was she giving him another blatant lie, or was she actually completely unaware of what a doctorate degree was? "Er... I am a historian, mainly of late medieval England. Of course, that means I also study other societies of that time period. Most people do not realize just how interconnected..." he trailed off, realizing that, for all he knew, she actually knew all of that.

"I have a PhD, yes. Almost all professors do. So... you have never been to a university, then? Sorry for asking, but I still wonder how you know all of these things. I took you for a history student, but no history student is that knowledgeable. Or that secure about her knowledge. If you were a student, you would know about PhDs and less about incredibly obscure French history...uh, normally, at least."

He did indeed have citrus, and poured her a glass, watching her drink with the same eagerness with which she had eaten. It was almost cute to see her feed herself. There was nothing prissy or ladylike about it. She was polite and sweet, alright, until you put food or drink in front of her. Then she gobbled it up like some kind of little furry animal that had been starved for a week. Not sloppy, just completely unrestrained.

He noted, pleased, that she immediately helped him make up the guest bed. She had good manners, that was for sure. Together, they were done with their preparations for her night very quickly. He had never expected another woman to sleep in that room ever again, but, then again, this whole twist of fate was not something he could have predicted. He was still not quite sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing...

Well, she did smell a little. Was it any wonder? Obligingly, almost eagerly, he led her to the bathroom and even pulled out the box with all the stuff Claire had used. Most of that stuff was a little old...frankly, he had no idea what was in there, had not touched it ever since. But they were certainly female hygiene products, and beggars could not be choosers, after all. Especially literal beggars, he added in his mind.

Of course she was hungry again... he himself was, too, so it did not take much persuasion for him to phone up the pizza place and order two pizzas. Hers had so many toppings that he wondered how it would fit into her slim body at all. His pizza had fewer toppings - he loved salty stuff, like pepperoni and anchovies. He left her alone to take her bath and went downstairs, to the living room, where he stood for a moment.

While he waited for her to finish her bath, he sat down in one of the leather chairs and idly grabbed a random book from the shelves near it. To his great relief, it turned out to be a leatherbound edition of Dracula, not one of his history books. Nothing like Bram Stoker's wonderful writing to take his mind off her beauty and mystery. He considered it the greatest horror novel ever written, and it was one of his favorite reads.

He opened it near the beginning and immersed himself in the gripping description of Mr. Harker's first encounter with the count, shuddering pleasantly as he read about the vampire and his odd habits and appearance. As fun as the films were to watch, they did not do justice to this man...or man-animal, really, who managed to be menacing without even intending to, just by the way he was a little bit...inhuman.

He wondered if she would ever reveal all her secrets to him. She seemed to have plenty of them. Where did she have her history knowledge if she apparently did not even know how a university worked? Why was she so poor and hungry for seemingly no reason? He promised to himself he would find out. She was interesting. Yes, interesting. It had absolutely nothing to do with also being hot as hell.

He stood around in his living room, waiting for his guest to finish her bath. Strange. For the past months, his house had never seemed lonely, even though it had been built for a family. But now that she was there, it suddenly felt...large. As if it had been missing something for all that time, and he had never noticed before. Strange how it took a guest to make him feel lonely, like he needed someone else.

Women had not been regular guests in Michael's home since the divorce. Most of his fellow faculty was not that attractive, and he was neither unscrupulous nor horny enough to hit on a female student. He found dating sites suspicious, and had never been quite brave enough for in-person dating anyway. And, to be quite honest, he had never missed women too much. Until he had met this one, anyway...

Why was such a beautiful and well-educated young woman homeless in the first place? Well, her odd behavior might be an explanation, but, honestly, she was not that weird. Except for her panic when he had caught her in an open lie that first time, she seemed quite normal, just mysterious. A criminal record, maybe? She did not look like a felon, but she would probably make a devastating conwoman...

Well, no matter what her secret was, she was now up in his bathroom, cleaning herself and relaxing. He could not allow himself to think about her taking a bath for too long. Already, his resolve to only help her and maybe find out more about the sources of her amazing historical knowledge was melting under the sun of her beauty. If he imagined her naked, he would probably turn into a complete animal...

He heard splashing from upstairs. Clearly, she was enjoying her first bath in...who knew how long? She certainly looked - and smelled - much cleaner than most homeless people he had met, but she probably appreciated the opportunity to take a nice, long bath in an actual bathtub. He was making assumptions about her, he realized. But were they unfair assumptions? Why else would she be so hungry and so desperate for a place to stay?

The last thing Michael had expected to see in his living room was a naked and, let's face it, red hot young woman. Well, nearly naked, but you could hardly call a rather small bath towel clothing. It did nothing to cover anything, really. And she was so innocent about it, as if she had never learned why people wore clothes. Well, in this case, it was because the sight made him nearly faint as what felt like all his blood rushed down and gave him a very embarrassing bulge.

He managed to gather enough rationality to not turn into a slobbering idiot, for long enough to stammer out: "Not yet... it should be here shortly. And maybe you want to put some clothes on?"

 

[PennySaver]

Without appearing as if she was looking for it, Claudia caught her host's ogling of her body as she passed by him in the kitchen, heading for the fridge. She opened it and fished out the juice again to pour herself another tall glass, as if she lived here with him.

After telling her the pizza was due, he suggested, "And maybe you want to put some clothes on?"

"Maybe," she responded, slugging down half the glass of citrus, then smiling at him wickedly. She finished the juice, set the empty glass down inside the sink, and began to say, "What, afraid that the delivery guy might--"

A knock at the door interrupted Claudia. Her face filled with panic, and she sprinted for the nearest door behind which she could hide. It had taken all the courage she could muster to let her host see her like this; she wasn't about to let a stranger do the same. As she waited for Michael to pay and send the man away, Claudia took a look around his bedroom. Even though there was nothing here that could be considered a belonging of a woman, the room still had the feeling of having been heavily influenced by one. Claudia wondered, Does he still love and miss her like this room seems to imply? Maybe it was just her imagination; maybe this was all Michael. She couldn't know; she simply didn't know him well enough yet.

When her host called that she could come out of hiding, Claudia called, "Can you toss several pieces on a plate and bring it in here, Michael … and … more juice?"

When he arrived, he would find her in his bed, sitting on her knees, her ankles flanking her buttocks … with the bedding held before her bosom while the towel laid on the floor. She stared at him for a moment … then let the bedding slowly drop to reveal her delicious, naked, 400 year old teenage body down to the edge of her untamed muff.

Claudia wanted to say something … to invite him to join her … to tell him this was the right thing … to admit she was trembling deep in her core … anything! But she found herself unable to even open her mouth, let alone form the right words to make this easier for either of them.

 

[Knightmare27]

That smile showed that she was not only shameless - she was quite aware of what her nudity was doing to him. And she seemed to enjoy it - no, not enjoy it. She reveled in it. Was she trying to trick him, or was this just her idea of fun? Either way, it was quickly turning into his idea of fun, too, and that frightened him. He was not the kind of horny sleazeball who went after women half his age! He had to stay in control!

Another thing that was so cute about her! The moment the doorbell rang, she turned from an innocent temptress into a frightened little thing who had been caught doing something naughty. Which she had been, after all. Only she had not cared until now, when she disappeared behind the door so quickly he barely saw her move, just heard the patter of her naked soles on the floor. He laughed a little at how quickly she had changed her tune.

As she had requested, he put a few slices on a plate, poured her another glass of juice, and went to see her. He hoped she had used the time to put something, anything, on, or he would go mad. Then again, she was sitting in his bedroom. Would she be bold enough to take something from his closet, just to cover herself up? She did not seem the bashful type at all...

It was an ambush. As if her shameless near-nudity had not been enough, now she was clearly trying to seduce him! "What is she playing at?" was the last rational thought his mind could form before completely giving out.

Now, the last thing he had expected in his bedroom was a naked young woman, too. And this time, she was really almost completely naked. Large, round breasts. A trim belly, a slim waist... Now he really did turn into a slobbering idiot. No way around it. All he could do was stare, without even realizing it, as he brought her the food. His brain was off, did not even keep him from ogling his guest, admiring her naked body.

 

[PennySaver]

Claudia began to panic after Michael approached her … and simply offered out the plate of pizza and glass of juice. She hadn't known what to say, but she'd been sure that he would. And yet, he simply looked over her bared body with a shocked look not too much different than her own.

Not knowing what else to do, Claudia took the plate and glass, lowered them to rest upon her thighs, and stared at him while the trembling deep down inside her only intensified. Finally, in barely more than a whisper, she asked, "Have I done wrong, Michael...?"

 

[Knightmare27]

Had she? Had she really? He did not know. That falling towel... it had to have been on purpose. And yet, here she was, acting as if she did not even know what she was doing.

Clearly, she expected him to say something, so he simply answered "Well...weren't you going to put something on? Want me to get your clothes from the other room, maybe?"

He put the food down and stopped staring, feeling slightly ashamed of himself. And yet, part of him hoped that she would decline his offer. Not yet, not yet. He did not want to lose that lovely view yet.

 

[PennySaver]

"Well...weren't you going to put something on?" Michael responded to Claudia's question about whether or not she'd acted inappropriately. "Want me to get your clothes from the other room, maybe?"

He reached for the plate and glass again, and as soon as her hands were free, Claudia lifted the top sheet to hide her front side again. She suddenly felt like a fool; her eyes fell to stare where the blanket still covered her bent knees.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She almost begged, "Can you turn around, Michael … so … so I can cover up properly? I'm--"

She'd been about to apologize again, but instead she sobbed, "I'm so ashamed. Please--"

Claudia couldn't get the rest out as tears filled her eyes and another sob escaped her mouth. If he turned his back, she would leap from his bed, collect the towel, and hurry to the stairs and to the guest room. If he didn't … well, Claudia didn't really know what to do then.

 

[Knightmare27]

"O...o...of course." Of course she wasn't shameless! A little weird, maybe, but it had been wrong of him to assume that she was okay with being stared at just because, for some reason, she had a strange attitude about nudity. He had taken her social clumsiness for an invitation to be creepy, and he blushed when he realized what he had done. Closed his eyes, even, as if that could erase his actions and make everything better.

Her sobs pierced his heart. What had he done? Had he really just devoured her entire body with his eyes, like some kind of pervert? How could he have felt like she would be okay with this? Had he really convinced himself that she wanted to see her naked? He felt bad, really bad - bad enough to awaken his conscience and overpower his desire for her beautiful young body. It took him an enormous amount of willpower, though.

He was now back in control... enough, at least, to ignore the screaming ape inside him and, indeed, turn around so she could cover herself. He had seen enough. More than enough.

 

[PennySaver]

Claudia found herself horrifically conflicted when her host turned his back so chivalrously. She'd presented herself to Michael in this way, baring her body while sitting in his bed, in the hopes that he would want to be with her, lay with her, make love with her … so that, as he reached the peak of euphoria, she could sink her fangs into his neck and get from the interaction that which she really wanted from allowing him inside her … and yet now, as he turned his back to her, all Claudia wanted to do was get away to her own room, curl up under the covers, and be far away.

The still shy, sometimes naïve teenage girl from Bourdonné wanted only to run away, to put distance between herself and this man standing over her, recalling the first time -- the fear and the horror -- of that first time when she herself had had teeth pierce her own flesh … and yet, at the same time, the hungry, desperate vampire that that other man had so lovingly created and then -- without intent -- abandoned to discover this new, sometimes treacherous world of hers … that being within her wanted nothing more than to pull her new host down into the bed and...

But Michael hadn't wanted her in the way she'd hoped he would once she bared her still youthful appearing body to him...

Or … at least … that was what Claudia had mistakenly taken away from his reaction to seeing her. How, after 400 years of being with men in the way men wanted to be with her, could Claudia still not be able to read them well enough to understand when their chivalry was only an outer covering for their burning lust and desire to lay within her thighs?

The irony of this was that if Claudia had already recently fed, her senses would have been more in tune and she would have been able to read Michael as easily as easily as she had that pizza take out menu on his fridge … and yet having recently fed, she wouldn't have needed to repeat the act at this time with him. It was the vampire version of the chicken and the egg.

As Michael turned his back to give her the privacy for which she'd requested, Claudia tossed the bedding back, slid out of the bed, snatched up her towel, and ran from the room. She began up the stairs, then stumbled and lost her footing; she fell onto the carpeted steps, unharmed but unable or unwilling to continue her flight. Instead, she simply sat there, clutching her towel to her front side while still very much on display should Michael follow at the sounds of her sobbing...

 

[Knightmare27]

Poor girl. He was still blushing a little from having been so creepy. And from having been caught in it. But then again, she had given him quite the barrage of mixed signals, hadn't she? Walking into his living room almost naked like that, apparently not minding that she was even more naked in his own bedroom. But then, her shame seemed to have kicked in, as if she had remembered a long-forgotten lesson.

Did she have some kind of mental illness, or was she just really, really strange? At the moment, he leaned towards the latter. Mostly because he wanted it to be true. He had a thing for weird girls, but he hoped she was not genuinely in need of help. Hopefully, things like running unexpectedly and suddenly realizing that the concept of shame existed while nearly butt-naked were amusing quirky, not symptoms.

He turned his back, still quite reluctantly, but more than another peek at her, he wanted her to stop sobbing. And the only way to do that was to show some self-control. Man, she really was taking some time to cover up. He could have gotten her her clothes from the other room, of course. Anyway, what was taking her so long? He got a little impatient and snuck a little glance over his shoulder. She was just sitting there, as exposed as before.

Before he could even wonder what was up with her now, she had bolted (again!), followed by a loud thump. She had fallen? He ran out immediately, only to find her sitting on the ground, still almost naked, not moving. How badly was she hurt? What had happened?

He bent down. "Have you hurt yourself? Can you stand up?" She did not seem too harmed, but why was she not moving, then? And why had she run in the first place? What was it with this girl and running, anyway? There was absolutely no pattern to her strange running fits. And they did not have much to do with self-preservation, either. She had to have been in a blind panic to try to run over these stairs...

 

[PennySaver]

Claudia's mind was racing with emotions, feelings that were only being more confused by the unique hunger about which Michael couldn't understand. When he neared here and leaned in to check on her, Claudia rose -- with the towel falling away from her -- and clutched her arms about his torso. She sobbed again, then begged, "Will you help me to my bed, Michael. I can't seem too..."

She was feeling weak, and in a short moment only his arms around her were keeping Claudia from falling to the carpet once more.