Nightbloods

It all began so long ago, everyone has lost track of the years, the eons. We are the Nightblood, originating underground close to the earth’s core. Over time as it is with the evolutionary process, we formed into human shaped beings. Our only difference was because of our origins, we require a lot of iron and red blood cells to sustain ourselves. The first known of our kind to live on the surface was Andina.

I admit it, I’m somewhat of an introvert for the most part. I work at home; I shop online and have almost everything delivered. Occasionally I will head to the beach to see friends. How was I to know that this last beach party of the summer was going to change my life as I know it? Maybe that full moon should have given me a clue, cliche as it is. 

Living on the Pacific Coast is what a lot of people dream of supposedly. I personally have been here all my life on boring old Alameda Island in the San Francisco east bay. When I say boring, it’s because this is where the yuppies lived in the 80’s, you get the gist. It’s an island community attached to Oakland by a tunnel or a bridge. Oh, and there is a ferry to San Francisco if you are so inclined. 

 I excel in my little isolated world; Alexa takes care of my shopping needs. I email or post my work from home, and everything is mostly within walking distance; also, there’s a party on the beach almost every night no matter how cold the weather turns, can you say controlled bonfire? I have been partying on these same beaches since I was a child. It’s the damn beach parties that led to my latest onset of problems. You see most of this beach party crowd have been partying together for as long as I can remember. We all grew up together, went to school together, you get the idea. So, when a new drink is introduced, no one really questions it.  

We were dancing and drinking around a small bonfire last weekend, and again this is a regular thing on the beaches of Alameda. What changed that night was a new wine was added to the cache of alcohol that we were all indulging in. As we danced and laughed, the bottle finally ended up in my hands. I smelled it, took a quick sip to make sure it wasn’t absolutely vile, and guess what? It was good! Like a mix of pomegranate and cherry with a hint of salt. I liked it, and I drank a lot more than I should have. 

 By the time I had arrived at home I was wishing that I had found out the blend and the vintner of the wine. Also, where could I get more? Then I fell into bed and slept the sleep of the dead, according to old horror movies. When I woke up the next day, it was early in the afternoon. I’m not a late sleeper no matter how much I have to drink. That should have been my first clue that something was wrong. Did I pay it any mind at the time? That’s a big NO! I had to get up and get some work done.  

As I got up and got moving, I felt more flu-like than hung over. I drank some water; ok I drank a lot of water first thing. Big mistake! Let’s just say that I’m glad my kitchen sink was empty. Yuck!! Repeating the wine in the opposite direction looks as bad as it sounds. Did I just drink the water too fast, or was I really getting sick? Since I’m rarely sick that thought did not give me any comfort in any way.  

So, I cleaned up the mess and bleached my sink. I’d rather smell Clorox than old wine. Then I grabbed a Ginger Ale and my laptop and headed out to my deck to work. The sun was just too bright on my alcohol suffering body, and yet I really wanted more of that wine. Geez was my lineage kicking in, the alcohol abusers in my family line were showing up in my traits? Yep, I knew my family background and alcohol battles, and still I wanted that wine. 

 I decided to lie down for a bit, hoping I would feel somewhat normal after a nap. This turned into a five-hour snooze. It was now nine pm, but I felt better. Hmm, the sun was down, and I felt normal for the first time today odd, but whatever the hangover was gone. Off toward the beach I strode. Maybe a sip or 2 of that wine would reset my system, and what could it hurt, right? Assuming anyone brought the wine with them. As I arrived at the beach, there of course were people there. Mostly strangers, and no strange wine, and since I hadn’t eaten it was probably a good thing there was no wine. I decided to head back home. 

 It was on the walk home that I finally noticed that something was really not quite right in “Whoville” (ok in Alameda). I couldn’t feel the air on my skin. Being an island community, Alameda always has a dampness in the air. It also seemed that my sense of smell and hearing were off, much keener than is usual for me. I could smell the salt in the air and hear the party from several blocks away. What was wrong with me? Was I having a very vivid dream? No, I don’t dream like that, in fact I usually don’t remember my dreams at all. Seriously I am in a bad Sci-fi movie, of course those are the kind that I watch the most, who doesn’t? 

Then there it was, a large plate glass window and my reflection. Or should I say a very hazy fog like reflection of myself. That did it, I ran the rest of the way home. Then I tossed out all of my horror DVDs just for safe measure. As it was such a weird night, I gave in and I just went to bed. However, hiding in my bed didn’t last. Severe abdomen pains woke me up. I realized again that I had not eaten all day, since my stomach had been off earlier. I played it safe by making some ramen and added an egg, I really was craving a very rare steak. That in itself was odd too, I tend to stick to chicken and pork most of the time. Anyhow... yea after a few bites, the ramen came back up just like the water. My poor kitchen sink; she's not used to that much abuse. Again, the bleach bottle came out, what can I say I like cleanliness and order. 

What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t eat, I can’t drink water, and I’m exhausted. I made my way to the shower. After I was done, I was toweling off and glanced in the mirror. I should have seen myself, but all I saw was an outline that was Casper like and my floating towel, and the towel rod mounted to the wall behind me. Ok, I had to wake up, I REALLY NEEDED to wake up. I wandered out to my living room after dressing and I wasn’t alone. I knew I should have taken self-defense classes; I grabbed the broom to whack my intruders with. 

One of the party gents was in my house, uninvited as I didn’t know his name. Yep, I screamed in fear. Oh, did I mention I live on a houseboat, so my screams in the marina went unheard. A Nordic looking blonde man stepped forward with his hand out and said “Hello, my name is Pietro, and you are now bound to us.” What? Who? WHO IS “US”? and why did I feel like there was a magnetic force pulling me to him?  

Pietro went on to explain, “my brethren and I landed here several hundred years ago. Every now and then we need to seek out the younger members of our blood line to continue our lineage.” “We liked the look of you, and we made sure that you drank our special wine.” “Also, you a predisposed to us, it’s within your DNA, we could smell you. “Huh? Landed? DNA? What?, yep I passed out!  

When I came too, this was still not computing in my very shocked mind. “What new blood?” and “What special wine?” “What about my DNA? Hundreds of years ago? I asked. “Oh, the wine with drops of all of our blood in it,” said Pietro. I passed out again. To say I’m happy I have a faux Persian rug on my living room floor is an understatement. At least my floor is padded since I am spending so much time lying on it. When I came to, I was in my bed, but Pietro was in a chair across from me. Pietro, when he realized that I was finally awake asked my name which is Allison; who my family were, then he outlined my future. I was a now a full Nightblood, I had to move to the Guild and live amongst my own kind or be hunted by hybrid Nightblood groups. My life as I knew it had come to an end. 

Apparently, some of my ancestors were Nightblood, thus the predisposition of my DNA dilemma. We are all progeny of a woman named Andina. An ancient sub-Romanian redhead who was rumored to be Vlad Dracula’s mother. Of course, a lot of the details have been lost over the centuries, but my lineage goes back to her.  

According to Pietro, Andina has become the poster child for the Goth teenagers over the centuries. Red wavy hair, a creamy white chemise, in pose with just a little bit of blood drops dripping from her fangs. Sounds like a poster or painting I would hang in my own house. Pietro also explained that he and his core group were drawn to me at the beach based on our shared DNA. Apparently Nightblood can “scent” out their own blood line, it’s kind of like a biological tracking device. With that information my life is now forever changed. 

 Pietro laid out the plan for my disappearance from the world as I exist now. Having a boat as a home does help the situation, it could sink with me in it metaphorically. I would just disappear, a victim of the tides and become fodder to the sea life. Then I would move to the “nest” in the Berkeley hills. Seriously, no one notices odd individuals or groups in Berkeley, it’s what Berkeley is known for. The Nightblood fits right in. Although, as I was already consecrated to this new life (you notice I didn’t say committed), I did have questions, and it annoyed the shit out of Pietro.  

How does the Nightblood make money? How do I contribute? Where exactly do we live? Can I go out in the daylight (yea, again too many movies). What about my relatives, can I talk to them? And so on....... Yea, Pietro was annoyed, annoyed enough he slammed out of the room and broke the door from the hinges. Well, he was planning on sinking my house anyway, right? Although, I have to say living with a group of other people has never been on my agenda, unless I found that mate of a lifetime. I’m pansexual, so it’s the soul bond I seek, not the gender. Oddly enough that seems to be a Nightblood normality.  

I was also informed there would be some instruction of how to observe and watch society without being noticed at all. How to document the societal changes as we live on through it all over the coming centuries. It seems the vampires real purpose is to chronicle and observe humanity, and hope the future humans learn from what is passed down in the form of standard education. Then the conversation shifted to where I am moving to. 

Turns out we live in a huge cavern of tunnels under the highway 24 Caldecott tunnels. When I received the bit of information, I immediately imagined the French catacombs. Turns out its old war bunkers that the state has forgotten about. Maybe I should find out what kills us, and opt for that huh? Again, too many movies. Pietro, although annoyed by my questions, did finally answer them. “No, the sun does not kill us. We just need SPF100”, and so on. So don’t believe everything you read. “Yes, we do live a long time, but no we are not immortal. We age 1 year to every human 100”. How do we make money? Since we are not sun sensitive, we can have regular jobs, and the “nest” is long paid for. Talking to my relatives, that’s a big no. I must change my name, my look, and my career. 

 I guess I’ll write about Vampires from now on instead of boat life. My relatives must believe I am gone, as the Nightblood DNA did not activate in them. It would put them at risk of being attacked by other Nightblood tribes or Nightblood hunters. Apparently the Nightblood DNA is like that of an Albino individual, it’s a DNA throwback that just shows up randomly. Wait, what? Nightblood hunters?  

Nightblood hunters are not “Van Helsings” as according to books. They have no real label, but they are part human, and their strength is wizardry and magic. They look human and partly something magical, legends say the hunters have an aura that only Nightblood can see. No one is sure why they want to destroy Nightbloods, again legends say it started over a jilted romance. Isn’t that usually the case? Nobody really knows why anymore. Supposedly, it started back in old Romania then known as Wallachia, and the real question was; who fathered Vlad Dracle. 

Legends of the hunters have petered out, it’s just best to avoid them. The hunters have a general characteristic. Emerald green eyes, and black as tar hair. It seems according to Pietro that the hunter line is dying out. It's been decades since a hunter was last seen. Ok, I’ll take a bit of comfort from that statement. Let’s face it, I’m no “NEO”, I run from conflict. 

So there it is. I am moving to the “Nest”. I have my own space that is equivalent to a two-bedroom apartment. I did get to bring my personal pieces that I really like, art work and such. Now I just have to learn to eat as a Nightblood. No, I don’t have to bite anyone’s neck. Once a month we all prick a finger and drop some blood into a vat (it looks like an old wine barrel from the Roman era) that has been fermenting for centuries, our strength and health comes from the mix.  

Once a month we each must drink a gallon from the blend in the vat to maintain our health. Otherwise, once any new Nightblood’s transformation is complete, the newbie can have regular food and drink. How do I know when my transformation is complete? Regular food won’t nauseate me anymore. Apparently, each person's transition is different. Pietro said it was the amount of iron and plasma in the mix that is the essential need for us all.  

My last question to Pietro after I moved in about our long-term life spans was “how often do we change names and looks, and what about having children”? According to Pietro, thanks to commercial products we can appear to age slowly and then just change our names and be young again every 50 years or so. Ok, I can live with that. There are make-up artists that are part of the brethren. Children, yes, we can have them, but they are not always the healthiest and require a lot of care. An example given was Stephen Hawking. Since I’m single at the moment, it’s not a great concern, but best to be informed, right? 

Apparently, a good amount of the Nightblood brethren work in higher education and the sciences. We are a mix of professors, teachers, authors, a few athletes and botanists. Dinner discussions are always interesting. Eventually the Nightblood part of us becomes much stronger overtime, and some base traits become too hard to ignore. We are all excellent strategists. Some of the bretheren do work as freelance security and a few are mercenaries. 

 Ok so there were two last questions. Can we mate with non Nightblood? “Actually, it’s preferred,” said Pietro. Our modern brethren want to extend a healthy lineage to the point of becoming fully human. It’s encouraged to mate with a normal human and dilute the DNA line as much as possible. Although I must admit that I am very drawn to Pietro, and he is single. 

My first night in the nest was a large dinner party for the “family”. I was introduced to everyone, learned of their backgrounds and current life status, and I asked questions, mostly about Pietro. I did learn, he is a widower, and he tends to be snarly toward those he is developing feelings for. He must be head over heels for me then. I do have time, and an old-fashioned slow build up to romance sounds like a nice change of pace. After all, time is on our side.  

So, there it is, I can keep writing I just have to use a pseudonym as I age slowly, eat (I like that part, must have chocolate), and just be mostly a regular person. I was sought out because of my DNA marker and to help end the lineage in a healthy manner. That old saying “don’t believe everything you read” is true. Although I admit that knowing Vlad Dracula as a distant relative is supremely cool.