The Vampire, Hymee Pt. 01

Prologue

The lesser vampire, Homo Vampiris Inferioris and the greater vampire, Homo Vampiris Superioris have been firmly assigned by the indisputable facts of science to the annals of folklore. Once, however, vampires were a commonly held belief around the world. Why would such a superstition have such universal appeal? Could it be that they were nothing more than ignorant stories conceived in the dead of night to explain sudden clusters of deaths and disease? Perhaps we can draw some comfort in this, as science seems to bear witness to these facts, suggesting that they most likely derive from accounts of poor souls suffering from a rare blood disorder called 'porphyria'. These patients are driven by a lust for haem, an iron pigment found in abundance in the blood.

It might therefore come as some surprise, and perhaps with a little reluctance, to accept that these stories are indeed true. Vampires walk the earth, just as you and I do, and have done so since the dawn of time. That they have passed out of common belief is not a coincidence, for we have been exterminating other species of Homo ever since the Neanderthal had the temerity to challenge us for dominance of this planet. This is my account of how I met a vampire called Hymee (pronounced HI-ME) and whilst few will believe it, I lay out the facts before you as accurately as I can recall.

Part 1

I remember the day well. The earth was frozen and a thin layer of snow lay on the grass that the bright morning sun was unable to melt. Verglas lay on the corrugated iron roof of my shed hanging down in great spikes, and beyond that, hoarfrost gripped the trees in my estate. Frost too steamed on my breath, for these country houses were poorly insulated and difficult to heat.

The house had been in my family for as long as anyone could remember, handed down to the firstborn so that it would never be split into ever diminishing estates. My father, Reginald Wallace had told me that one day I would inherit the house and with it the responsibilities and duties of that position. He had died just a week ago and his loss still weighed heavily on me. Today when I signed the papers, I would become the official owner of 50,000 acres of woodland together with a smattering of lakes, ponds and in the low lying areas, bogs.

The doorbell chimed. I hurried downstairs along creaking floorboards and opened the old wooden door. Once upon a time, we had servants to tend to these duties, but in recent years, like many people up and down the country, the family had fallen on hard times.

"Hello," I said.

A young lady in her twenties looked up at me. She was blonde with shoulder-length hair, and a pretty smile.

"Mr Luke Wallace? Your taxi, sir."

"Ah, you must be Natasha," I said, remembering a letter that I received a couple of days ago, "you're from Briggs and Mortimer? You're here about the papers?"

"Yes, Sir," she said in a chirpy voice and began leading the way to the limousine. It was one of those stretch affairs with tinted windows. Briggs and Mortimer sure knew how to put on a show to impress their clients. Even Natasha no doubt had been hand-picked. She was more than attractive and as she skipped down the stone steps her large breasts bounced enticingly under her white blouse. Her tight skirt left little to the imagination and I admired how her peachy backside swayed seductively as she walked to the car. She opened the door to let me in, and then moved to the passenger side and slid in beside me. Her leg brushed mine as she reached down for her briefcase sending a thrill through my body. She was indeed stunning and sadly I lamented how long it had been since I had last known a woman. Two years? Maybe three. I forget now. My social phobia had gotten the better of me almost a decade ago making me drop out of medical practice. It was so bad now that I found it difficult to make new friends let alone date. She didn't seem to notice how close we were in the car and without a concern in the world she lay a pile of papers out on her lap.

"So these are what we're going over today," Natasha said, "just legalise to say that you're the heir of Reginald Wallace and will take over the proprietorship of the property, Windholem Estates I believe it's formally called."

She handed the papers to me and then dug into her briefcase again.

"And these are the keys to your other property up in Scotland."

"Another property?" I asked.

"Yes, your father had a summer residence in the highlands that he used when on business for his Scottish office, but he didn't use it so much once that part of the business folded. Still, it's a sizeable estate that would be worth a good amount on the property market if it wasn't to your requirements."

The family had struggled with the rising cost of maintaining the estate in the last few years of my father's life, so I was more than a little surprised by this news. Why had he hung onto the property even at the cost of dismissing all the staff? Why had he never told me about a second house? Was it something to do with mother? My father had told me that she was not my biological parent. She had died when I was still a baby so I had no memory of her, but father had described her as warm, and generous. Judging from the paintings in the hall, a beauty with pale skin, coal-black hair and piercing blue eyes. She had loved the wild places, and above all, she had loved the glens and mountains of Scotland.

The car drew up to an impressive tenement office and Natasha led me into the waiting room. Almost immediately I was buzzed into a large office adorned with the nameplate 'Mr Mortimer'. He sat behind an old fashioned heavy desk and beckoned me to sit on a leather two-seater settee.

"Mr Wallace, let me express my condolences for your loss," he said with the oiled voice of a seasoned lawyer. "It came as a shock to us all when your father passed so suddenly."

Mr Mortimer was right -- my father had been in good health until one morning, he had not woken up. An autopsy was not performed so I didn't know the cause of death and never had a chance to question it as his body had been whisked away by the undertaker who was an old friend of the family. He had been buried the next day at a small service attended by myself, my aunt, Mr Briggs and Mr Mortimer. No others had been invited to the service although I knew that my father had many friends and business associates.

"Thank you," I smiled.

"Now if it's not too indelicate a question, I believe that Natasha has shown you the documents? There's nothing in them that you need worry about, just formal transfer of the deeds, legal stuff that we lawyers ten d to get excited about."

He paused, judging my response, and when none was forthcoming he continued, "there's just one small matter that I need to draw your attention to, that's clause 14.1 which states that the proprietor of Windholem Estates will own the property in perpetuity and shall never sell or split it up."

Again he paused and I asked, "When you say Windholem Estates, are you referring to both my home residence and the property in Scotland?"

"That's right," he said, "both estates are subject to the terms and conditions of the clause. It's been a family tradition since when the land was purchased."

I wasn't entirely surprised by this news as I knew that my home had never been divided amongst past generations of siblings, but that this clause should apply to the Scottish house too was unexpected. Clearly, I needed to visit my second home in Scotland.

On the way home I had the opportunity again to admire Natasha's breasts. Her blouse was stretched tight forcing a gap between the buttons revealing her pale pink bra. I desperately wanted to ask her out on a date, but when I plucked up the courage, all that I could muster was a professional, "So how long have you been with Briggs and Mortimer?"

"Oh, let me think," she said, looking up and off to the right in thought, "three years? Yes, just over three years now. I came to Briggs and Mortimer when I graduated in law."

Her voice was like honeyed silk with a beautiful cadence of aristocratic English society, and the enthusiasm of a little girl who still marvelled at the wonders of the world. She smelt faintly of honeysuckle and jasmine that intoxicated me.

"And, ...err, you like it there?" I asked nervously, not sure how to continue the conversation.

"Of course, silly," she said playfully, "I wouldn't have stayed so long if I didn't like it. Besides, Mr Mortimer gives me all the big cases."

"Like this one?" I asked hopefully.

"Yes, well kind of, I guess," she said. A frown creased her forehead. "Well, let me explain, your business in financial terms isn't actually that much compared to other clients, it's more that you've been with Briggs and Mortimer for as long as the company has been in existence."

She paused for a second in thought, "And there's something else too, Mr Briggs had a peculiar affection for your father which seems to have been transferred to you. He told me that I had to look after you as if you were a member of my own family. So here I am."

She smiled and her whole face lit up. My heart pounded in my chest. I took a deep breath and asked, "So I'll be seeing a lot of you then?"

"Oh, you won't be able to get rid of me," she said teasingly.

*****

I fell asleep that night ruminating over the news of the Scottish house and what I could do with it, but my thoughts were always interrupted by the image of Natasha. Sure, her perfect breasts, narrow waist and fluted hips and drawn me in, but it was her warmth and charm that had captured my imagination. I drifted off into a dreamless sleep when I was awakened by something. The house was located in the centre of the estate so no light bled in from outside. I strained my eyes but could not penetrate the utter blackness around me. I reached for the bedside lamp when a faint scratch came from the window.

'That's strange,' I thought, 'what could be making that?'

I sat up in bed reluctant now to turn the lamp on and listened in the darkness. The sound came again -- a thin high pitched ring as if something was scratching on the glass. My heart started. What should I do? I dismissed the notion almost immediately. Ghosts and ghouls, and things that went bump in the night, were childhood stories. I comforted myself that if they were true, I would know by now.

I decided not to switch on the lamp -- if it was a burglar - why give away my position? I got out of bed shivering as I only wore a pair of boxers. I slid the curtains apart an inch and peered out. The grounds were empty. I breathed a sigh of relief and then noticed that the night sky was awash with glittering stars. Low hanging clouds glowed with the moon and I was struck by the beauty of God's creations. I was about to go back to bed when my eye noticed a flicker of mist. It hung in the air outside the window and despite a gentle breeze that rustled the leaves on the branches, it hovered there as if held by some otherworldly force. Fascinated I watched the fog. Thin tendrils swirled around itself. After a few moments, I wondered if it had not become more substantial. It seemed to be gathering together and snaking around itself. Instead of feeling fear, I felt captivated. A small voice inside cried out, 'this is not normal' but I found it easy to ignore as I stood watching the thing congeal into a more solid shape. I don't know how long I stood there, enthralled by the presence, but as if awoken from a trance I suddenly realised that the fog had condensed into the figure of a deathly pale woman. Her hair was raven black and her eyes dark pits that threatened to drown me.

"Don't be afraid, Luke," the presence said, although I did not see her lips move, "I mean you no harm. You and your family are old friends."

I stared back transfixed by the lady.

"If you bid me welcome, I can come in," she said. "We can get acquainted. Your mother, Tatiana Esme Wallace sent me."

"My mother -- but he's dead?" I said, unable to understand what the woman was saying.

"Your mother has left the mortal plane, that is true" the presence said, "but not the ethereal plane. She now sits in the 'never and now' and I have come to do her bidding. There is much that I must tell you."

I opened the window and stepped back. The woman descended into the room.

"My name is Hymee," she said.

It sounded as if her words had come from a great distance, echoing off the walls, or perhaps echoing in my head. I stepped away from her and for want of doing something, I got back into bed. She sat beside me. I noticed now that she was dressed in a simple white chemise that hardly covered her hips and bare legs. Beneath it, I could see pendulous breasts that swayed freely when she moved.

"Are you comfortable?" she asked.

Her lips moved for the first time in the conversation, revealing needle-like incisors that looked more fitting for a cat than a woman.

"Yes," I said, feeling the reverie that had taken me, ebb away.

"Good, then we have much to discuss."

She lay down on the bed propping her head up with one hand. Her chemise fell forward revealing the deep cleavage of her breasts. Her narrow waist and wide hips tapered into long elegant legs. She smelt of the damp earth on a spring day that reminded me of long-forgotten camping trips. Her obsidian eyes held secrets for they were dark pools that flickered with intelligence, but more than anything else, I was struck by her presence. I couldn't fully decipher where it came from -- a heady mix perhaps of animal sensuality and quiet authority. I must have been staring because a moment later I felt a cold finger gently press my chin up to her face.

"Good," she said, with a mischievous grin, "I think you and I will get on just fine, but before we play we need to talk."

"Yes," I said weakly.

"Do you know what I am?" she asked in a matter of fact tone.

"Erm...no," I quavered.

What kind of question was that? What I am?

"A night-elf," she said pausing for recognition on my face. "A child of the night. Your people call us vampires, night-walkers and, in the old-tongue, lamias. I have lived on this land for two thousand years, and before that, my father and the one who begat him."

I felt the cold hand of fear grip my heart and I became aware of the dampness under my arms. My head swam unable to reconcile the sure knowledge that vampires were myths passed down from ignorant times, yet, here was one in my bedroom.

"Are you going to kill me?" I stammered.

Hymee laughed, rolling onto her back, making her breasts wobble under the thin slip. I noticed in an out of body kind of way that with her revelation I had lost most of my interest in them despite their magnificence. She propped herself up again, allowing her breasts to loll forward so that they threatened to burst out of the low cut top. I saw dark areolas above the hemline of her shirt.

"No, of course not, why would I do that? Your father was one of my dearest friends, and besides, I need your help. In fact, we all need your help."

My heart slowed and my head cleared a little. Of course she wasn't going to kill me, if that was her intention I would be a bloody corpse staining the bedsheets.

"We?" I asked, not understanding.

"My people needs your help. Your mother needs your help. You are the key to our survival. You are everything we have worked for these past two thousand years, everything that your father and mother have planned for, so listen carefully."

Hymee sat up on the bed and crossed her legs revealing her thighs and what lay beyond. I stared again and patiently she brought my chin up to her eye line. She did not seem to think my gaze was inappropriate.

"We night-elves enjoy it when a man admires our body," she said, reading my thoughts. She smiled, comfortable knowing that I could see the pale lips of her vagina. "But we do not have time for that right now."

She laid her hands in her lap breaking my trance. This land was once of immense power and so when we gave it to your family, it was under the understanding that we would work to help each other -- night-elf would help human, and, human would help night-elf. Quid Pro Quo. We protected your ancestors from lords and monarchs and any who sought to take your land, and in return, your family agreed to breed the perfect human. One who could join with us to become the 'All-Prime' -- a hybrid with the power of both lines."

Sweet Jesus, what was this woman saying? My head span -- was she suggesting that I should become some kind of human-vampire hybrid?

She lay down again and gently placed a hand on my chin before sliding it down my chest to finally rest on my thigh. I felt my penis quiver and once again my eyes wandered to her breasts which were now hanging as much out as they were in her chemise.

"I don't understand?" I said. "Why do I need to join with you?"

"Your father and his father, and so on back through the generations, have taken night-elves for wives hoping to create the perfect hybrid, one who can command the genetic characteristics and talents of both lines, but such a thing is not a trivial task. Many times have we tried, and many times have we failed. The results of such unions are unpredictable, dangerous even."

She let the words hang in the air.

"Which is why it is your choice."

"What do you mean by unpredictable? Dangerous?" I asked, suddenly suspicious.

"A fair question," she replied cooly, "previous experiments have yielded... disappointing results. Some hybrids do not survive the transformation, whereas others produced monsters and some go insane. However, your genetic line out of all the lines throughout all the world is the most promising. We believe that if anyone will succeed, it is you."

I gulped as Hymee uttered the words 'did not survive' and 'monster'. Why should I take this risk even if it was what my parents planned?

I looked for the truth in Hymee's dark eyes. They swirled like deep waters and I felt myself falling into a bottomless pit where I heard whispers from the ether -- 'because we need you', 'because we will all die.'

Hymee took my chin gently in her hand as a mother would a child and said, "The magic in this world is sick and soon it will be gone. My people and others are diminishing and fading from this world. They grow weak and become unwell. Many are dying. The All-Prime can heal the land, and..."

She broke off and a frown creased her forehead.

"And what?"I asked, "what is it you're trying to say?"

"Your mother needs you."

There was another pause and I saw a hint of fear, or perhaps concern in her eyes.

"My mother?" I asked intrigued, "but I thought she was dead?"

"Not fully dead," she said after a moment's hesitation, "but it is dangerous for me and especially dangerous for you for us to speak of these things. Suffice to know that we need someone with both human and elven blood, descended from the first vampire, the All-Prime, born when the world was still new. Your line has always been the guardian of this estate, tending to its needs and acting as safe haven for us, but now we need that which we have planned for."

"But why now? I still don't understand."

"Some of my people said that we should have acted sooner, but our experiments have demonstrated that our best chance of success is to let you mature and become the man you are meant to be. Even now some believe that it is too soon, but we have no choice. If we do not act now, then many more will die and your mother's life is balanced on a knife-edge. If we are to do this thing, then now is the time."

A tear rolled down her cheek and I saw the truth in her eyes. This creature had come to me, not to kill me, but to beg for her life, nay, to beg for all the lives of her people. How could I refuse such a request? It was more than duty, if I refused I would be consigning her species to extinction. I knew that if I lived my life under that shadow of guilt, it would be shallow and meaningless. I could never look into the eyes of the girl I loved and believe myself to be worthy.