The Puppeteer

“Come on,” said a man, “Don’t worry, I won’t let you die so easily.” “What do you mean by ‘so easily’?” the child cut in, his voice still shaking, “Do you…do you need something from me?” “No, but you’ve got a duty resting on your shoulders, Kragen.” the man answered, tugging the child’s hand. “I-I won’t be able to…I’m scared…please, no,” the child said, the tremble of his throat turning into faint sobs, "Forgive me, uncle, I don’t have the courage to—” “You won’t know if you’re ready until and unless fighting your fate becomes a compulsion,” the man barked, shaking shaggy dark bangs out of his eyes, “I don’t know if I’ll be alive for much long but, you, my child, will be my remaining hope. You want to get out of here alive? Then promise me this…” “Uncle, no…” he sighed, as if an icy dagger had just pierced him through the chest, “I have my own life to live, uncle! I can’t hope to lengthen my lifespan just for your dreams…and we have no shelter to duck our heads under—” “Do you want to live,” the man spat, eyes glittering with animosity as he clutched the boy’s branch-thin wrists, “Or not?” 

“Yes, uncle…” Kragen sniffled, shoulders shivering so bad that his framework threatened to come undone any moment. “You don’t know how important you are, dear,” his uncle crooned, and the shouts and chaos in the air had faded into non-existence for a moment, at least for him, “The sole survivor amongst all the vampires the world has ever seen! The last heir of the Ceizas!” “But uncle,” young Kragen pleaded, his blood-stained fingers curling in, “Where will we go? Who’ll raise me? How will I hide my identity? I don’t know anything about the human world! I can’t stand sunlight…I can’t have a shadow of my one…what if—” "Leave that to me” was the answer, “Now, follow me. We’ll just be normal civilians amongst the humans…nobody, nobody should know our pasts. We’ll quietly settle down in some corner of this country, and make up new identities. Rest assured, I know how all of it goes, little Ceiza. If you want to avenge your parents, then do it quietly, because…from now on, you’re an orphan who’ll be raised by his uncle, and my name is Lucas Morrow, okay? I won’t be calling you Kragen any longer, your real name is…umm…let’s say Kai Morrow. Got it? So, what’s your name?” “Kai Morrow.” Kragen said, gritting his teeth through the tears. “Repeat that louder!” the man commanded.

“Kai Morrow?”

An old man with kind eyes called. He was the in-charge of the café called ‘Vanilla Bean Oasis’. A tall young man dressed in a tuxedo arrived, with messy black mullet and honey-colored eyes which were set deep coldly in their sockets, came forward. 

“Kai Morrow at your service.” the deep voice replied.

Kai P.O.V.

If you want to avenge your parents, do it quietly…

What does this mean? Definitely not inspiring a revolt against the humans.

I admit, I secretly wanted revenge, but didn't know how I would get it.

That is what I find asking myself after everything's been fine for quite a while.

Uncle had never really encouraged me to socialize, and it was understandable. Anybody would notice that something was seriously wrong with me, that I neither had a shadow nor a reflection. That I was never taught what would happen if I tasted human food since I wasn’t too adjusted to gore and murder (at which my parents would often get angry, of course). That if I accidentally cut myself somewhere, the stench of my blood would give it away quickly that I wasn’t a normal human. 

The question being, how did I get a job and blend in amongst all the humans?

Before, I hadn’t dared to cross a mirror, lest anyone could know that I lacked a reflection. We didn’t have mirrors in any of our houses, because it was always believed that those were the ‘sieves which tell us apart from other people’. Vampires weren’t encouraged to go beyond their comfort zones or territories, why you ask? It’s been a myth for humans that vampires are cruel monsters with inborn bloodlust whose primary job is to slaughter innocents for food. Pop culture, literature, folklore…all of it has embedded such ideals into the minds of human beings. Yes, I admit, that we’ll starve to death if we avoid drinking even a glass of blood for a year or so, but we know some creatures as ‘monsters’ too. Those humans introduce themselves to the society as ‘Vampire Slayers’, and no matter how eerie the name might sound, several humans used to think of those officers as some symbol of justice or peace activists, while to vampires, they have never been anything more than murderers. Maybe they’re plain sadistic because they don’t under this: those humans who butcher cattle, not because they’ll die without devouring the animals, but only since meat tastes good or whatever. Maybe they have other motives too. I don’t know. I don’t know how indiscriminately killing a race can be a reasonable hobby.

For me and uncle, it had become some kind of crime to cross the doorway of the house we’d shifted to after my parents were killed. He was a normal human, without any vampire blood in his veins, but I learned later that he was an awfully close friend of my mother. Was secretly in love with her even, nobody knows. But, obviously, a human-vampire relationship can’t flourish that well…it’s impossible to break those natural social boundaries. Still, the extent of loyalty to my mother (and gradually my whole family since he didn’t seem like a Vampire Slayer at all) and good relations with the rest of my family led to me thinking he was my uncle…well, the blood-related kind. But not all relationships depend on bloodlines, right? He was a kind of a godfather to me, despite his sharp tongue and brutal insults. I cared too much about survival and learning to kill to worry about parental warmth. I was taught to go along the paths of dark asphalt when night would fall, and put up some excuse—like, getting away without paying wasn’t legal (I’d stall the argument till it was okay to bite the shopkeeper without getting noticed) or I’d make him notice that I didn’t have a shadow—that would eventuallt lead to me killing a man. Every time I’d try such things out, I’d be putting my life on the line. I was a bit of a pacifist, so I began whining about how I was slowly turning into a killing machine about a few months after I’d started murdering humans for food. I had told Uncle that I thought killing animals was better than killing humans; although all lives were worth the same, I must confess that I thought killing animals suited me more than killing humans…just like humans have preferences for inexplicable reasons. Both the methods were risky: While killing humans could result in more legal conflict, killing animals meant I would have to sneak into the nearby woods to hunt.

It was true, that blood of animals wasn’t as nutritional or fulfilling to vampires compared to the blood of humans, but that was better than dying of starvation. 

I figured out how to change several problems on my own, using logic. Perhaps nobody had cared about things like logic or science in our dynasty and instead trusted the myths passed on from generation to generation…myths which humans believe as much as we do. I was most concerned with survival, and for survival, I needed to eat. I tried my ultimate best to fix that. Having good relations with my human colleagues surely benefited me. How? Alicia, a colleague of mine, who had tried pursuing the medical stream before she had to take up the job of a waitress due to financial conflicts, told me: “Want to hear a fun fact? Coconut water acts as an excellent substitute for blood whenever there’s an emergency.” Alicia was right, of course, and from that day on, I didn’t have to kill as many animals as I used to—I could save up blood from one kill for a month and dilute it all with coconut water. Another day, when I was still a teen who was terrified of taking lives for my own good, I broke my myth about mirrors. After dispatching a troublesome shopkeeper with one blow, my eyes met a mirror. Never before had I looked at one directly, since even at my human Uncle’s house, I rarely got out of my room (there were no mirrors in the bathrooms, perhaps both of us had a fake belief that mirrors had the power to blind vampires or something, just like it’s not safe to stare at the sun directly for humans). But I still could see my reflection in the blood-splattered glass.

Inquisitive and knowledge-hungry as I’d always been, I was mentally driven to satisfy my curiosity. Later, I found out that one of the myths was true: vampires are allergic to silver. Since, in the earlier days, mirrors were backed up with silver, vampires couldn’t see their reflection unless they had water nearby. Nowadays, mirrors are backed up with alumina or any other metal alloy which doesn’t consist of silver (must’ve been too expensive, I guess). Why hadn’t anyone come up with this before? That would’ve saved many from struggle! And why did nobody learn to use our gifted hypnotic abilities to mind control everyone into thinking we have a shadow? Why, it’s possible to hypnotize people around you and disguise the lack of your own shadow…

I will beat myths with logic.

Things were going better than expected: I got a job promotion, Alicia—the prettiest woman I’d ever seen in that small town-- was clearly in love with me although my present persona was a façade, and I felt safer around humans. The speedometer of my life was finally calming itself down. I was just getting all of it together when my pretend Uncle was assassinated in front of me. It was a man in a tightly worn black leather unitard, who broke into our house at midnight to kill my uncle. Startled by the sound, I rush outside and almost throw myself in front of my Uncle, but I’m a second late. Before I can disarm the renegade, he’s done his task and darted outside. I wasn’t sure of his identity or purpose for a moment, but later it was clear to me. He was wearing the signature unitard for a Vampire Slayer.

I admit that backing away wasn’t very smart of me…it was almost like taking up the responsibility of tearing my own life with my own hands. But I’m scared, that too much lawful interrogation could give away our stories and true identities when I was just getting used to peace of living a lie. Due to a traumatizing day in my past, where Vampire Slayers came and massacred my family and accidentally had left me as the only sole survivor amongst all vampires, stagnant trust issues and crippling fear have the habit of clouding my judgement. I overthink and disregard all laws. I’m infuriated and heartbroken, fuming and sniffling, scarred and beaten. I'm not in the mental condition anymore which would allow me to ponder over such a critical decision but leave as immature as a broken adolescent consumed by vengeance.

I will find the renegades and kill them. And that's a commitment.

I don't know what kind of hatred is boiling inside me, whether I want to avenge my parents or my uncle. My life is already in a mess…I had just barely learnt how to live in the human society, in a world where all vampires had probably been exterminated. Maybe I really hate the Vampire Slayers that much. I am in no situation to seek vengeance, but something inside me that compels me to show them what they deserve.

Vampires have a strong sense of smell, actually. They can detect if you have any blood disease by your aura and smell. If they know your smell, somehow they never forget your smell even if they may forget your face. And I’ll use that to know whether the renegade was just a fake or a real Vampire Slayer. Though it was unlikely that a Vampire Slayer would kill my Uncle besides sparing me, I could figure something out by his reek: I had definitely smelt him before. I don’t know when or where, but he had to be a known person, which was crazy, because if vampires dared to trespass any human, they would kill him. Then did I see him on the day my family was killed? If I choose to change my mind and forgo killing the person, since I always considered murder a sin, then I must at least know who he was and his motives too. Curiosity can prove to be my biggest strength as well as my biggest weakness. 

I successfully disguise it as a suicide and the police have no suspicions whatsoever. The day I snapped again was when I discovered who the assassin was. It had to be a Vampire Slayer, but what startled me the most was that someone so seemingly sensitive and fatherly couldn’t be a raving sadist—our boss, who always wore his big old heart on his sleeve and inspired his employees like no other, Jonathan Franklin. I hadn’t forgotten his smell, after all. I make a plan to successfully get into his house around the dead of the night, past the guards and into his bedroom, and stare him in the eye with a cocked gun in my hand. However, this is where my curiosity gets the better of me when I blurt out, “I’ll kill you, in the end, you’re a vampire slayer, and played a role in the bloodbath of the Ceizas…but before you die, explain me everything!”

“What?” he asks, confused eyes darting around the brown walls. For a second, I feel insecure and flustered that I might have detected the wrong stench, yet I shower the tense air with restless questions. “So, you did know that I was the sole-survivor, then why did you allow me into your café as the barista?” I yelled in a shivering voice, blood lapping up and stomach flooring, “Was all of it a plan? Why did my uncle have to die while I was left alive, why?! How…how did you know who I am? Who else of your gang knows that I’m Kragen, not Kai? I’m not interested to learn about your prejudice, just give me the truth, and you’ll die a quicker death! If you don’t tell me everything, be ready for some blood and guts right here!” I hadn’t felt such anger in ages. My eyes are laced with a sheet of water and would reflect embers if my hatred could be expressed fully. My framework is held together tightly with ropes and bands as my rage uncurls with the heavy thorns tightening around my windpipe. Jonathan stills now, clearly in the mood for some disturbing story-time. 

“It was all that man’s plan, Kai, trust me…I know everything,” he sighs, aware of his looming end, and now trust seems like a fake word to me, “Your uncle, I’m sad to say, was a madman and I knew it. He was crazy ‘bout your mother and ended up ruining his whole life obsessing about your family lineage and the vampirekind. And his murder…was planned. He was suffering the last stage of a terminal illness, and would barely last two months more. Your uncle believed that he didn’t have anything to live for, and guess what? He didn’t care about you at all, you should’ve understood that, but no, you didn’t complain about the absence of fatherly compassion. All he cared about was his obsession with vampires. He planned that, when you’ll see him dead, you’ll go berserk and unleash hell on the Vampire Slayers, thus avenging the only woman he’s ever loved—your mom. He didn’t have the guts to take revenge on his own, so he made you a puppet in his game. He predicted everything… that you’ll become an enraged serial killer and fulfill his wish, and do at least something as the last Ceiza. Crazy, he was, because anybody would think twice before running right into the face of his death just because he was too obsessed with your bloodline.”

The air feels stagnant as I take in a deep breath while Jonathan plays a recording of my Uncle’s voice for evidence. Even my tears seem to choke me. It’s a bad dream, just a nightmare, okay? I shiver as my knees drop to the floor and my castle walls fall apart. Everything hurts and I don’t know where to go. And my vulnerability gives the old man a full chance to disarm me and kill me. I…don’t know whom to trust anymore, not even myself. My plans uncoil and then come undone, slowly but painfully. I let the old man kick me on my side, but that overwhelms me more than I know. Because the next moment I have shot my boss through and through, the gun spitting bullets like a wild war machine, and for those chilling moments, I’m unaware of the eerie chime of police sirens in the background just past the long windows.