Bronson stretched his long frame, luxuriating in the comfort of his warm bed, but his bladder was telling him to get his ass up. As he made his way to the toilet, his stomach also let him know that it was well beyond time for filling. The last thing he had eaten was a sandwich he had gotten in London before his flight to D.C., and that had been almost twenty-four hours ago.
Bronson threw on some jeans and a thick sweater before taking out his favorite black leather jacket, which he hadn’t worn since the previous year, and then started off towards New York Avenue. He was hoping the all-night diner that he loved was still there. Things changed rapidly in this city, and sometimes eateries came and went while he was on assignment. He thought about stopping by the D.C. Eagle bar for a night cap before returning to his cozy bed. It was convenient to have a gay bar so close to his apartment.
As he turned the corner of Sixth Street onto New York Avenue, a blast of cold wind slapped Bronson hard in the face, triggering him to crouch forward and put his head down against the oncoming wind. Halfway down the block, just before he was about to cross the street and duck inside the diner, he bumped into a guy.
“Oh, sorry man,” they both said simultaneously. Bronson glanced up briefly.
They stepped around each other and continued on their way. Bronson stopped and turned around, and when he did he saw that the other guy had done the same thing. He knew the guy from somewhere, but just couldn’t place him. The bar, maybe? He was wearing a nice black biker-type leather jacket, and he’d fit into the Eagle easily enough. Shrugging his shoulders, Bronson dashed across the street and ducked into the diner out of the cold, raping wind.
* * * * *
After the meeting with Woody, Sarge quickly changed into a tight pair of jeans, black T-shirt and his jump boots. “Ready,” he announced as he met Woody in the common area.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Woody smiled broadly, his whiter-than-white teeth blinding Sarge.
“Um, like what?”
“The temperature outside is freezing. Even though you don’t feel the cold, humans do, and they would know something’s up with you walking around without a coat.” Woody laughed at such a rookie mistake. “Or think you insane,” he added.
Smiling sheepishly, Sarge nodded and went to get his leather jacket, one of the few things from his previous life that he’d insisted on keeping. He’d saved for this coat almost a solid year and it was part of who he was then and now. The heavy leather biker’s jacket fit him like a glove, and he refused to give it up.
Woody and the Sarge walked at a normal human pace to the townhouse Woody owned on Sixth Street.
“Where were you born, Lieutenant?” Woody asked casually.
“Sevier County, Tennessee. And please, call me Sarge like everyone else, or if you’d like, David.”
“Okay, David.” Woody’s eyes twinkled.
“What about you, Woody? Where're you from?”
“My family has a farm just outside the small town of Stateburg, South Carolina.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but when were you born?” Sarge asked curiously.
“I was born the morn of the 15th day of August, 1758, the year of our Lord.” Woody laughed at Sarge’s wide eyes.
“We were born on opposite sides of the Appalachian Mountains then,” Sarge said after recovering from his shock.
“Yes, and I would say about two hundred years apart.” Woody laughed heartily. “And my dear fellow, when did you grace your parents with such beauty?”
Embarrassed by the compliment and obvious flirting, Sarge looked down then answered, “May 5th, 1976.”
“That would make it… two hundred and eighteen years apart then.” Woody chuckled and nudged Sarge in the shoulder.
The laughing pair turned onto New York Avenue, crossing over to Sixth. When they walked past the D.C. Eagle, Sarge felt a certain sadness. As a human he would frequent the gay leather bar when he was in town. He had many good times there and had fond memories to draw on.
His mind fixed on recalling good times, Sarge’s attention wandered and his shoulder bumped against another man walking in the opposite direction.
“Oh, sorry man,” they both said simultaneously, briefly looking at each other.
It only took Sarge a moment to recognize the reporter. They had met in Iraq years ago when he was paired up with his sister unit, where Bronson had been embedded. He could only hope that the reporter didn’t recognize him. As he turned, looking over his shoulder, he saw Bronson Rudan doing the same thing, looking back at him.
Woody noticed Sarge looking back towards the man. “Do you know him?”
“Yeah, I met him six or seven years ago when I was stationed in Iraq. I don’t think he recognized me though. We didn’t really interact with each other while he was there.”
“I would not worry about it then,” Woody replied.
“Yeah, don’t think it'll be a problem,” he said as the two night stalkers continued walking, turning onto Sixth Street.
Close to the corner of Sixth and ‘M’ Streets was Woody’s townhouse. From the exterior, it wasn’t very different from the others close by. A small front yard sat enclosed by a short, black iron fence. The gate squeaked as Woody opened it. It was a maintenance-free landscape, what little yard there was.
Woody opened the massive front door, often found in these old townhouses, and Sarge entered. He came to a stop, surprised at the interior. “Wow, this is some digs you got here, Woody.” It felt as if he had stepped back in time.
“Digs? I do not think I am familiar with that term,” Woody questioned.
“Sorry, it’s slang for house or apartment. Wherever you’re living.”
“Ahhh, I see. I have had these ‘digs’, as you put it, for close to a hundred years now.” Woody gently pushed Sarge further inside so that he could close the door. “I am afraid it is a little outdated compared to the more modern décor of today.”
“It’s amazing, Woody,” Sarge replied. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“You will find you tend to forget that things change over time, and you do not notice some things,” Woody explained as he took Sarge’s leather jacket. He hung it on a hand-carved hall tree. “Another thing, and this is important—you will need to change locations from time to time. Neighbors become suspicious when you do not age as they do. I have this home, and one in Charleston, a small cottage close to my family's places and a few others that I relocate to every twenty years or so.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Sarge admitted. “I’ve lived in a barracks with other Marines since I was eighteen.”
“I am sure that will change over time.” The elder vampire’s eyes were soft as he looked at Sarge. “Time is a funny thing when you are immortal, David. There are quite a few who cannot take it and will end their own lives.”
“How?” Sarge was stunned to learn vampires would commit suicide.
“Suicide by sun, is the most common method. It is quick for the most part, but not without pain.” Woody put his hand on Sarge’s shoulder, sending a little shock down his spine. “Others will ask a friend to end it for them with a stake to the heart. An effective method, though more than a tad bit of pain is involved.”
“Wow, I didn’t know,” was the only response Sarge could muster.
“Come, my office is upstairs where I have most of the information secured.” Woody gestured for Sarge to follow him up the hand-woven carpet on the stairs. The gleaming mahogany banister made their hands appear even paler.
At the top of the elegant stairs, Woody turned to his left and walked down the hallway, whose polished floors were covered in yet another beautiful carpet. When he turned into the front room of the house, he pushed a button and the lights came on.
“I did have electricity installed,” he commented as he closed the heavy velvet curtains on the window that faced the street. “Here is something else for you to remember—always open the drapes before retiring. When a house is closed up all the time it causes people to wonder what is going on in there.” He smiled again, turning back to Sarge. “It is the little things that can trip you up sometimes.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Sarge said. “I see I still have a lot to learn about this lifestyle.”
Woody laughed out loud. His laugh was robust and a joy to Sarge’s ears. “Lifestyle, is that how they describe it now?”
Sarge blushed again, feeling a little stupid around this old soul.
“Please, do have a seat, David.” Woody indicated a comfortable leather chair in front of a large desk, while he sat behind it. He took out a key and unlocked the center drawer, then another drawer and the top center part of the desk slid back to reveal a hidden compartment. Woody looked up to see Sarge staring at the piece of antique furniture.
“The Pennsylvania craftsmen of my day were quite inventive, do you not think?”
“Yes, very. I would never have known that cubby-hole was there,” Sarge remarked.
Woody pulled out a leather-bound book. “I have kept a journal ever since I was a young man. It was a habit my father taught me. I highly recommend it as it has come in handy on numerous occasions.” Woody turned the pages slowly, searching for the information. “The caveat to that is to make sure that you have a secure hiding place for them.” He turned a few more pages before finding exactly what he was looking for. “Ah-ha, here we are.”
Woody pulled out a sheet of paper and a quill pen. Not a ballpoint or anything so modern, but an actual dip-in-ink pen. He started writing, and Sarge leaned over to watch the art of the written word, marveling at the scrolls and flourishes of Woody’s penmanship.
“That is…pretty amazing.” Sarge wondered at the craft. “I’ve never seen anyone actually write with a pen like that.”
“It was standard in my day. I have tried to write with some of the modern implements, but to me, they do not have the same feel,” Woody said, never taking his eyes off what he was doing. “The closest I came to being comfortable was the fountain pen, but then they became an instrument of the past as well, so I returned to what I am most happy with.”
Woody picked up the paper, blew on it for a moment, set it aside and took out another sheaf of paper. He wrote for another few minutes. “There, I think that will be more than enough to get you started, my young friend. If you give these pages a few minutes, they will be dry, and you may have them.” He sat back in the large red leather desk chair, appearing quite satisfied with himself. “You will see listed all the dates and times of the attacks. I have also included the details of the victims in case there might be some common denominators.
“It’s like a work of art.” Sarge shook his head in disbelief as he admired the old style of penmanship, more than the information on the paper.
“My, where are my manners?” Woody stood abruptly. “You must excuse me. It is not often that I entertain. Please, let us go to the dining room for some refreshment.”
Sarge followed the master of the house down the stairs again, down a hall and then into an elaborate dining room, with a large crystal chandelier hung over a draped table.
“Have a seat, David, I will return momentarily.” Woody smiled before disappearing through a swinging door.
Sarge took a seat in a chair that almost looked too fragile to sit in. It was surely an antique, as were most of the furnishings in the house. He felt as though he was in a museum.
Woody wasn’t gone long and right behind him was a beautiful bi-racial young man of about twenty. “This is Marcus, and he is our refreshment.”
“Whoa, what?” Sarge stood up, shocked.
“Marcus and I have a… well we have an arrangement.” Woody gently pushed Sarge back into his chair. “Marcus is a willing participant, as were you, only Marcus has decided to remain human, at least for the time being. In return, I give Marcus a place to live, spending money, and I pay for his education at Georgetown University. It is an acceptable arrangement for us both.”
“Good evening, sir,” the young man said to Sarge, gifting him a warm and gentle smile. The boy’s milk chocolate eyes with glints of gold disarmed the Marine as he walked to him and stopped by his side.
“Um, hello,” was as much as the normally stoic Marine could utter.
When Marcus touched Sarge, the smell of him, the delicious warmth of his touch inflamed him, his hunger growing stronger. It wasn’t until Marcus offered up the underside of his forearm, pushing it towards the Marine, that Sarge took the arm of the brave youth. Looking to Woody, he saw him nod his approval, and then at the beautiful mocha-skinned man who was offering him his life’s blood.
“It’s okay. I’m used to it… go ahead.”
Sarge slowly pulled the warm arm to his lips, his vampire fangs fully extended with his hunger. As gently as he could, he bit into the tender flesh. A hushed gasp escaped Marcus’s lips, followed by a low, erotic moan. Sarge remembered being told that the experience of being fed upon by a vampire was attuned to having sex.
The big Marine drank deeply at first, and then slowed, taking his time as he was taught, relishing the delightful snack. When he finished, he licked the small wounds with the tip of his tongue, healing them instantly.
“Well done,” Woody praised the Marine.
Marcus opened his eyes, and Sarge was startled to see such emotion there, akin to something like love. He was even more surprised when the handsome man bent and kissed him so very gently on the lips.
“Thank you, that was sexy,” Marcus whispered. He approached Woody and offered the opposite arm.
“Thank you, Marcus, but I think I will abstain for now. Besides, you will need all your energy for your exams later.” Woody palmed Marcus’s cheek.
There was no doubt there were deep feelings between the two. Marcus hugged Woody, kissed his cheek and then announced he was going back to bed. He bid the two vampires a pleasant evening.
Sarge sat there, trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened. There was no doubt Marcus had deep feelings for Woody, that much was clear, and Woody obviously had feelings for Marcus, but how far did that go? He never would have thought Woody would be gay. Can vamps have long-term relationships?
“Is there something wrong, David?” Woody’s words snapped Sarge out of his deep thinking.
“I guess I’m still new to all this. Actually, the only other vamps I’ve spent any time with were my men, and then we were all secluded,” David said while Woody sat next to him at the dining room table. “The only exception to that was the time I spent with Christopher after…” Sarge wasn’t sure what the term would be.
“Turned. You were Turned, David,” Woody helped him. “Christopher is an excellent mentor and teacher, and was hand-picked by Hatshepsut herself to be your instructor. It is unfortunate you were not able to have more time to interact with others, to learn more, but your government was in quite a hurry.”
“Yeah, Christopher was great,” Sarge agreed readily. “I just feel like there is a lot more to it, and I’m feeling a little like a fish out of water right now, is all.”
“You have questions that perhaps I might be able to answer for you?”
Sarge hesitated at first, and then decided he didn’t have anything to lose. “Well…I noticed that you and Marcus… well, there is a…”
“Ahh, you are wondering how relationships work now?” Woody smiled gently, as if now understanding the odd look Sarge must have had on his face moments earlier. “We—you and I, and those like us—still have feelings, desires, and yes, even needs, my friend. When we change from our human form to our immortal forms, we still are the same person inside, only a little more intensified, if you will. As I am sure you have noticed, our…libido, if you will, intensifies as well. You, as I, will have all kinds of relationships, and some last longer than others. I must caution you here. It is difficult to have and maintain a loving relationship with a human. While they grow old and frail, you do not, and the pain they will feel, you will start to feel too as you empathize with them.” Woody paused, letting Sarge digest all he had said. “It is harder still when they die, and you feel abandoned. First you are hurt, and then you are angry. All these emotions are the same as if you were still as human as they, which is normal. Be aware that this becomes more and more difficult as time goes on.”
“I think I get it.” Sarge felt sad sitting there. An unknown future stretched far in front of him, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. He looked up at Woody’s soft and understanding eyes, and had to know. “What about relationships between…”
“Between our kind?”
Sarge nodded.
“That happens quite often, but they also come with their own problems.” Woody smiled. “Relationships tend to run their course. When entering into such a situation, it is best you understand that while it is wonderful then, at some point in time it will likely end. All relationships have a beginning, middle and an end. As a human, that end can often be death. It will take a while for you to fully grasp the idea that time has a different meaning to you now. Coming to accept someone you love walking away is very hard the first time, until you see that it was not done because they didn’t return your love or did not love you at all, it is just that their love has evolved, and they are ready to move on. It will also happen to you, my friend. There will come a time when you also turn and walk away from someone you love, still love, because you are ready for change, as you evolve and move on.”
Sarge sat for a long moment, thinking about everything Woody said. “I was always told…always thought that love, true love would last forever.”
“And so it can, David,” Woody explained, laying a hand on the handsome man’s thick thigh. “Truth is, you may love someone till the end of time, but that does not mean you have to be with them, as you would in marriage. The relationship changes, that is all.”
“I think I understand.” Sarge sat there, still processing all this new information.
“There is something else that I think I need to make sure you understand,” Woody began, seeming a little hesitant. “We immortals tend to be highly sexual creatures. You know already that feeding is one of the most erotic things you can do, but there is the other physical side as I am sure you are now aware of.” Woody was looking at Sarge intently, waiting to make sure he was following. “Sexuality while you were human changes after you are turned. What was not what you would have considered normal before now becomes… insignificant?" Woody said, seeming nervous.
Sarge wondered where Woody was going with this, and was truly confused. Woody plainly saw his confusion, so proceeded to make it clearer for his new friend. “Sex, my dear fellow takes on more…how shall I say this? Sexual partners are no longer relegated to only one gender.”
Then it hit Sarge why Woody was beating around the bush. He threw his head back and started laughing. He couldn’t help himself. Woody had tried to be so delicate about it, so much so, that he had completely lost Sarge in what he was trying to explain.
Woody was looking a little perturbed by the time Sarge was able to reign in his amusement.
“Oh, Woody, why didn’t you just come out and say so?” Sarge wiped the pink-tinged tears from his eyes. “You could have just said you have sex with women and men.”
The surprised look on Woody’s face brought about another round of laughter from Sarge.
“Owww!” Sarge yelped after Woody slugged him in the shoulder.
“You deserve that, you understand. Making me go through all that.” Woody was trying hard not to laugh himself, attempting to keep an indignant look on his face.
“Honestly, Woody, I didn’t have a clue what you were trying to say.” Sarge laughed again.
“I was told that might be something that you and your men could have an issue with such things, being all alpha males and such,” Woody expounded.
“Yeah, we get that a lot, I’m afraid.” Sarge was still chuckling a bit. “The big, macho Marine image tends to make others think we are like cavemen or something. If truth be told, a Marine will pretty much fuck anything that walks and has a pulse. Hell, I’ve got two guys back at the barracks who will drop and get it on at the drop of a hat. There are times we have to tell them to go somewhere private ’cause we’re sick of hearing or seeing them screw!”
The look on Woody’s face was priceless, sending Sarge into another round of gut splitting laughter.
“You are quite serious, are you not?”
“Yes, I’m quite serious,” Sarge answered, mocking Woody’s speech a bit.
“These two men of yours will start having sex in front of others?”
“Oh yes, and they will drag anyone else in they can get to participate as well.” Sarge enjoyed the look of total shock on Woody’s face.
“This I would like to see.” Woody smiled as he shook his head.
“Hang around our platoon long enough and you’ll see, I’m sure.” Sarge chuckled again.
“I will take you up on that offer,” Woody said with a sly grin. “Shall we go and see about some supper, David?” Woody stood. “I am feeling a bit peckish about now.”
“That sounds like a marvelous idea,” Sarge stood up to join him.
“How about Asian?”
“Huh?” Sarge felt stunned.
“Asian,” Woody repeated. “They tend to have a slightly spicy-sweet and robust taste.
Sarge tossed his head back and howled. When he got himself back under control he said, “Lead on, my Sensei. My education continues.”