Luke knocked on the door of the well-maintained Portland bungalow, host gifts in his left hand. A few moments later, the door opened.
“Hey, Luke! Welcome to my home. Come in!” Pablo said.
“Hello. I brought flowers and a bottle of wine.”
“Thank you!” Pablo took the flowers and wine. “You can hang your coat and backpack on the rack there. Everyone’s in the kitchen. Would you like a drink? We have beer, wine, cocktails, water, soda; take your pick.”
“Beer, please.”
Pablo set the bouquet and Syrah down on the counter and walked over to a three-faucet kegerator in the corner. “Pils, porter, or IPA?”
“I’ll take the porter.”
Pablo drew a pint of dark beer, brought it over to Luke, then grabbed a vase out of the cabinet and scissors from a drawer. He clipped the stems, filled the vase with water, and dropped the flowers in before setting them in the center of the kitchen table.
“Everyone, this is Luke. Luke, this is everyone!” He pointed to a short, slim white woman in jeans and a black Ramones T-shirt sitting at the table. “This is Holly. She’s our packleader.”
Holly wore her short, brunette hair in a spiky cut. Her arms were covered in full sleeve tattoos, while a few lines of ink peeking above the neckline of her tee hinted at more ink below. She gave a small nod of acknowledgment, which Luke returned with a smile. Next, Pablo gestured toward a shorter, curvy Japanese woman in a floral print dress. Her hair was black with bangs and the rest pulled back into a ponytail. Her hands were stuffed inside the pockets of her dress.
“Hey, it’s got pockets,” Luke said.
She gave him a giant grin and pushed her hands forward, demonstrating her pockets. “Yup!”
“The lady with the pockets is Samantha, Holly’s partner.”
Sam rolled her eyes at Pablo. “Sam, if you please!”
“Hi, Sam,” Luke said and smiled at her.
“And the handsome fellow in the apron and oven mitts is my husband, Tony.” Tony was a tall, trim white man. Underneath the apron, he wore a plaid shirt tucked into skinny-legged red pants cuffed above a stylish pair of black ankle boots. Tony’s blond hair, like the rest of his appearance, was immaculately groomed. He capped off his look with a pair of black plastic-framed glasses.
He briefly turned his head and waved over his shoulder with an oven-mitted hand and said, “Helloooooo.” He went back to pulling out whatever he was roasting in the oven. “Why don’t you guys get out of my kitchen and let me finish dinner.”
“Anybody need a top off on their drinks before we leave Tony to it?” Pablo asked.
He took Luke’s pint and filled it up, then grabbed a pint of IPA for Holly when she raised her hand. Sam helped herself to an open bottle of red wine on the counter. Pablo filled a pint with pilsner for himself before everyone filed out of the kitchen and into the dining room. Holly and Sam took chairs along one of the long sides of the dining room table. Luke took one across from them while Pablo sat down in between them at the head of the table.
“You have a lovely home, Pablo. Thanks for inviting me for dinner.”
“Cheers!” Pablo held up his pint. The others joined in, clinked glasses, and echoed his toast. “I thought this might be the most casual way to introduce you to Holly. Drinks and food always seem like the best way to break the ice.”
Luke nodded in agreement.
“That and maybe some cards or a board game? Tony will be awhile still, might as well keep occupied. Do you know ‘Hand & Foot’?”
“I’m not sure. What’s involved?” Luke asked.
Pablo explained the rules of the card game.
“That doesn’t sound too difficult to pick up.”
“You and Holly will be partners leaving Sam and me as the other team.” Pablo stood and walked out of the room.
“What can I tell you about myself?” Luke directed the question at Holly.
“Well, this isn’t an interrogation; at least, nothing so formal. Pablo thought, and I agreed, it would probably be best to get to know the new supernatural in the neighborhood. How long have you lived in Portland?” Holly asked.
“Oh, off and on since the late fifties. I was getting tired of living in England and remembered a friend describing Portland. I booked a trip to visit and check it out. I’d never been to the United States before, so I figured a place with mountains and an ocean might make for a pleasant change of scenery. While I was here, a house burned down along with the one next to it. Both were on large lots, so I bought both and had my house built on them.” He reached for his glass of beer to wet his whistle. “I’ve lived in other cities for a year or two, but Portland has been my home for a while now.”
Holly looked a bit shocked by the date he gave. “How have you escaped our notice all this time? The pack has always tried to keep track of such things.”
“Until recently, the vampire activity in Portland has been fairly negligible. I really don’t exhibit any weird characteristics. It’s not a failure on your part, just me keeping a low profile, like I’ve done for a long time. It’s what I do. I keep to myself. I kill vampires.” While they were discussing his status as a Portlander, Pablo had returned and dealt the cards.
“What happened to your friend?” asked Sam. “Oh, I’m sorry! That’s insensitive of me. You don’t have to answer that.”
“It’s fine. Like most people I know, it’s one of three options: war, old age, or vampire. In his case, the last option killed him during the first option.”
“I’m sorry, Luke.” She looked earnest.
“That’s OK, Sam. I’ve buried a lot of friends over the years.” He picked two cards from the deck, organized them, then discarded.
“Where are you from originally?” Holly asked.
Luke knew she knew the answer, or at least he was pretty sure Pablo had given her the full rundown of what Luke had told him, but some people wanted to confirm for themselves; and as the leader of a shifter pack, she could probably detect lies.
“I was born in a small village near what’s today called Brussels in Belgium. My parents were Gallic Celts from the Nervii tribe. I spent my youth in a village with my mother, her sister, and my cousins.”
“Where was your father?” Holly asked.
Sam gently laid her hand on Holly’s forearm. “Hol, you’re getting a bit interrogate-y.” They briefly made eye contact and when Holly faced Luke again, her face had relaxed some.
“Sam is right. My apologies, Luke. You’re a guest here and have caused no problems for the pack that I know of. Plus, Pablo likes you, and that’s a good place to start. I get nervous when there are new threats to my pack and our home. Vampires are something we’ve never dealt with. I mean, I’ve heard of them and know they’re more than just scary stories, but multiple attacks in weeks, including at a pack business, are making some of us anxious.”
“No need to apologize. I understand your concern. Some weird guy just shows up, claiming to be a nineteen-hundred-year-old Roman legionnaire. As long as you’re not working with or aiding vampires in any way, you have nothing to fear from me.”
“So, you’re really sticking with that story?” She raised her eyebrows skeptically.
“There are probably simpler stories I could have made up, but then again, I’ve always found my safety to be better served by not lying to werewolves.”
Holly smirked at his comment. “And you’ve been killing vampires the whole time?”
“Yeah, for most of it. I killed my first vampire when I was twenty in the hills just outside Sarmizegethusa in 106 CE.”
“Sarmizgauh-whatsit?” Samantha asked.
“Sarmizegethusa; it was the capital of the Dacian Kingdom, basically what’s called ‘Romania’ today. I’d just experienced two campaigning seasons on the front lines under Imperator Traianus. Sorry, you’d know him as the Emperor Trajan. I served in the legions for many years, but the XXX Ulpia Victrix will always hold a special place as my first legion. That’s where I earned my honorific. You can go out now if you can, Holly,” Luke said, diverting back to the card game momentarily.
“Your ‘honorific?’” asked Pablo.
“Cognomen ex virtute. Basically, a named earned from virtue or deed. I was born Lucius, son of Gaius—”
“Gaius?” Pablo interrupted. “That sounds like a Roman name, didn’t you say your father was Belgian? Gallic? Nervi…whatever?”
“It is Roman. My father adopted it when he signed up for his service,” Luke replied.
“Wait, if your dad wasn’t a citizen, how did you join the legions? I mean, if you were a Belgian Celt…” asked Sam.
“You know Roman history?” Luke asked.
Holly snorted. “No, she loves watching Spartacus and reading trashy sandal and sword novels.”
“They’re not trashy!” Sam replied indignantly. “See, I learned valuable history. Right, Luke?”
“Yeah, I can’t speak to the veracity of the rest of your literary choices, but that fact is true. Only free citizens could join the legions. My father was granted citizenship after serving in an auxiliary cohort for a full term of service. It allowed me the privilege of citizenship and gave me the right to join the legions. He chose Gaius as his name in honor of Gaius Julius Caesar, who’d conquered the Nervii and other Belgian tribes a century before he was born. My full name is Lucius Silvanius Ferrata. My father was taller than his fellow Gallic and Germanic tribesman, which made him significantly taller than Italian Romans. They called him the ‘Tree,’ so when he finished his time, he chose the Latin surname Silvanius, which means woods or trees, as his new name. So when I joined the legions, I signed up as Lucius Silvanius. The ‘Ferrata,’ I earned.”
“How?” asked Sam, excitement gleaming in her eyes at the real-life sword and sandal story unfolding before her.
“Honorifics are earned names, bestowed for great deeds. Scipio Africanus, for instance, wasn’t his name. He was born Publius Cornelius Scipio but earned his honorific, Africanus, from his exploits fighting Hannibal and the Carthaginians. Pompeius earned his Magnus leading legions. Germanicus earned his fighting the Germans. Ferrata means ‘ironclad’ or ‘iron will,’ but that’s a long story for another time.”
“How long did your pops have to serve to get his citizenship?” asked Pablo.
“You had to make it to the end of twenty-five years of service.”
Pablo choked on the beer he was sipping and coughed heavily. “Holy shit! Twenty-five years? Fuck, man, that’s a long time.”
“Yeah, I didn’t meet him until I was ten. I was conceived when he’d earned a furlough and returned home for a few months. He met my mom, they hit it off, and I was born eight months after he returned to his cohort in Britannia.” Luke played his last card, earning the victory for Holly and him.
“Well, crap. You caught both Sam and me with our feet. And your pop made it through all twenty-five years? And your mom didn’t leave him during all that time?”
“Nope. They adored each other. Apparently, it was a very intense few months before he returned to Britannia. My mom had the support of her sister and her family as well as the money that Father sent home. You have to understand, it was pretty common. I wasn’t the only kid with a father off with the legions. It was good steady pay, even at the reduced rate paid to auxiliary cohorts. If you were smart with your money and your units earned plunder booty, you could come out of the military with a sizable amount of money. My father used it to set himself up with a very profitable business selling local products to the neighborhood legionary forts.”
“I’ll go refresh everyone’s drinks, since it’s not my turn to deal,” Pablo said.
Holly’s face had lost its skeptical edge but was a study in quiet neutrality. Sam, on the other hand, looked absolutely delighted with the tale unfolding in front of her.
“Wow! What’s it like to live for that long?”
He didn’t want to crush Sam’s enthusiasm for his story, but the practicalities of extreme longevity, especially in the service of a harsh task and task master, weren’t all peaches and unicorns.
“Long. Oft times, boring. Tedious. And frequently, lonely. Isolating.” His gaze got far away. “Everyone expects to outlive their parents; but then I watched my cousins die, then their children, and then their children. After a while, I just stopped watching.”
Pablo set a fresh beer down beside Luke, then gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before resuming his seat.
“I’ve been surrounded by conflict all of my life, sometimes under a flag, but always hunting the undead,” Luke said.
Tony lightly coughed from the kitchen door as he brought out a tray of hors d'oeuvres. “Would you all mind lightening up a bit? It’s dark and rainy enough outside without dragging that inside. You’re putting a damper on my dinner party.”
“I’m sorry, Tony,” Luke said, looking over his shoulder. “I’ll put it away.” He turned around to the rest of the table. “I don’t get out much. It’s been a while since I’ve had much in the way of normal conversation with anyone except my cat, and he’s kind of shit at the give and take. Anywho…”
After that, the questioning ended and settled into a mix of friendly chitchat and card playing until Tony called out to clean up the mess and set the table, dinner was ready. Luke felt a bit embarrassed about being so open, accidentally revealing too much of his mental state to the virtual strangers. They seemed like decent people, though he’d have to be more careful so he didn’t weird them out with his mental messiness.
Tony’s cooking was amazing, as was the company as everyone got to know each other in the casual environment. While they ate, the weather got more serious than the typical fall drizzle. The rain pounded on the windows, and branches scratched at the walls and roof. They’d just cleared the table and sat down for dessert when they heard explosive cracks and a loud crash, then the lights blinked out.
“I guess that throws a twist in the evening,” Tony said.
Everyone broke out their cell phones, turned on their flashlight apps, and walked to the windows. One of the neighbor’s trees had snapped in the heavy wind. Fortunately for them and the neighbor, it fell diagonally across and out onto the road. Its only victim was the power lines above the street.
“That explains the lights,” Holly said.
“It’s dry in here, and we have space. It’s probably best if everyone stays the night. I’ll get some candles. Tony, could you start a fire in the den? Everyone else, sit and enjoy your dessert.” Pablo suggested.
Luke, Holly, and Sam shuffled back to the table and left their phone flashlights on as Tony and Pablo began the quest for fire. Pablo returned with a couple candlesticks.
“Well, gang, things just got a bit more romantic in here.” He chuckled and sat down to work on his dessert. “Do you need any help with the fire, honey?” he called to Tony.
“No, I’ve got it. I’ll be out in a moment.” Tony emerged a few seconds later. “The fire is going nicely. When we’re done with dessert, let’s retire to the den for a nightcap.”
After they all finished, Pablo grabbed the candle sticks and led everyone into their den. “Help yourself to whatever,” Pablo said, gesturing toward the collection of liquor bottles along one side of a bar.
Luke walked to the bar and perused the selection of liquors and settled on a peaty scotch. He took his glass and surveyed the collection of books. Pablo and Tony’s library contained what people would consider normal books for “normal” people: fiction, non-fiction, cookbooks, gardening books, etc. However, that was only a small portion of their library. Shelf after shelf was filled with books covering specialty topics like werewolves, vampires, the occult, and other paranormal topics. Some fell into the “pop” category, while some were truly spectacular pieces of lore.
“This is an impressive collection.” Luke turned back to the bookshelf, needing a minute to himself, even if it was just on the other side of the room. It’d been years since he’d participated in this much interpersonal activity. Oddly, he was enjoying it, even if it felt a bit draining.
“You’re welcome to borrow anything, provided you keep it safe and bring it back in a reasonable amount of time,” Tony said.
Luke finished ogling the shelves and took the empty wingback armchair next to the fire. He stared at the dancing flames. All the talk about his past sent his mind drifting to the village of his boyhood as he enjoyed the murmur of conversation around him.
Sam broke his reverie. “Penny for your thoughts, Luke?”
“I was thinking about bluebells.”
“The flowers?” Sam asked.
He stared into the fire. “Outside of Brussels, there’s a forest called the Hallerbos. It’s more of a small nature preserve these days. When I was a boy, it was a fair bit larger, wilder too. The village I grew up in was just south of the woods. It made for a great place to sneak off to when I was being less than mindful of my chores. Every spring, about mid-May, the bluebells bloomed. Coincidently, it was about then I’d find myself in the woods more frequently than other times of the year…”