Lucius in the Light

Lucius had a problem.

Not the kind that could be solved with a stake through the heart or a clove of garlic. No. This was the kind of problem that festered in the marrow, that whispered in the voice of every meal he'd ever had.

Hunger.

But not for blood. Not anymore.

Time slipped that way lately. Here as an endless night of prowling, there as a fitful day of restless sleep. Here as the metallic tang of fear on his tongue, there as the dull ache of emptiness in his gut. Here as 1692, there as 1918, here as last Tuesday.

Lucius was, in a word, done.

Done with being a creature of the night, done with stalking the shadows of a city that never truly slept, done with the weight of centuries pressing down on his shoulders like a cape made of regret and missed opportunities.

He thought of when he was last truly alive. This wasn't counting the nightly hunts, or the occasional masquerade ball where he'd pretend to be human for a few hours. No, the last time Lucius felt alive was in 1519, before the world became small, before time became a loop of endless repetition.

Late one sleepless day, as the harsh sun bled through the cracks in his blackout curtains like accusatory fingers, Lucius had an epiphany. A vision of a new life, a new path, a new way of being that was so absurd, so completely antithetical to everything he'd ever known, that he couldn't help but laugh. The sound echoed off the walls of his mausoleum apartment, rusty and uncertain.

He would go vegan.

Mind made up, Lucius wasted no time. He bought a Vitamix, its sleek modernity a stark contrast to the centuries-old urn he used as an umbrella stand. He stocked his fridge with kale and quinoa, the green freshness an affront to his usual diet of crimson vitality.

But something was still missing. He needed guidance, support, camaraderie in this new bloodless lifestyle. And so, on a whim as fleeting as a mortal's life, Lucius signed up for a vegan cooking class at the local co-op.

The first night of class, Lucius arrived fashionably late, a tall pale figure in black slinking into the brightly lit teaching kitchen. The fluorescent lights hummed, a sound that reminded him of the buzz of flies over a fresh corpse. A dozen heads swiveled his way, a mix of confusion and appreciation in their eyes.

The air smelled of patchouli and nutritional yeast, an aroma so far removed from the iron-rich scent of blood that it made his head spin. The counters were piled high with colorful vegetables, a vibrancy that seemed almost obscene after centuries of moonlit monotony.

As the class began, Lucius found himself oddly drawn into the rhythm of the kitchen. The cheerful banter of his classmates was like a language he'd forgotten he knew. The sizzle of tofu in skillets reminded him of the crackle of flames from long-ago witch hunts. The bright pop of cherry tomatoes under his knife was a staccato beat, so different from the steady thrum of a pulse against his lips.

For the first time in centuries, Lucius felt a flicker of something long dead stir in his shriveled heart. Was it... hope? Or just indigestion from the wheatgrass shot he'd choked down earlier?

Week after week, Lucius returned to class. His knife skills grew sharper, his quinoa fluffier, his cashew cheese saucier. And with each passing session, he found himself opening up to his fellow vegans. Swapping recipes, trading tips, even cracking the occasional smile.

And then there was Luna.

Luna, with her eyes like new grass and a laugh that made Lucius's cold blood race. Luna, who moved through the kitchen with the grace of a dancer, chopping vegetables with the precision of a surgeon. Luna, who looked at Lucius not with fear or revulsion, but with genuine curiosity and warmth.

But even as he chopped and blended and simmered with his new companions, Lucius couldn't shake the gnawing hunger deep in his gut. At night, he tossed and turned in his coffin, the satin lining now stained with splatters of green smoothie.

One dark night, after a particularly grueling session of spiralizing zucchini, Lucius found himself wandering the streets of the city. The scent of warm blood called to him from every passing throat, a siren song he'd sworn to resist. But the hunger was too strong, too deep.

And then he saw her. Luna, walking alone in the velvet dark. Something fierce and possessive rose up in Lucius, a hunger that had nothing to do with blood and everything to do with a longing he'd thought long dead.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was behind her, one cool hand on her shoulder, spinning her around. The moment stretched like taffy, sweet and sticky and threatening to snap.

Luna gasped, green eyes wide in her heart-shaped face. But instead of fear, there was a spark of... excitement? "Lucius," she said, her voice low and amused. "Fancy meeting you here. Come to chase me down for my secret tempeh marinade recipe?"

Her playful tone caught him off guard, dousing the flames of his bloodlust like a bucket of ice water over a burning witch. Lucius blinked, momentarily at a loss for words.

Under the buttery glow of the streetlamps, Lucius looked into Luna's eyes and saw not judgment or fear, but acceptance. And in that moment, the hunger that had gnawed at him for weeks, for centuries, finally dulled to a whisper.

He leaned in, pressing his cool lips to hers in a kiss that tasted of moonlight and promise, of chlorophyll and hope. Luna responded with enthusiasm, her warmth seeping into him, chasing away the last vestiges of his darker urges.

As they walked hand in hand through the sleeping city, Lucius felt a weight lift from his shoulders. The hunger was still there, a constant companion after so many centuries. But now it felt... manageable. Like a chronic condition rather than a terminal illness.

He thought about the long stretch of eternity before him, no longer an endless parade of nights filled with the same old song and dance of hunt and feed. Now, it was a blank canvas, waiting to be filled with farmer's markets and cooking classes, with Luna's laughter and the satisfaction of creating rather than destroying.

The sun would rise soon, bringing with it a new day, a new challenge. But for the first time in centuries, Lucius found himself looking forward to it. After all, he had a garlic bread recipe to master.

Let the sun shine in.