1
Oh, you’ll never see my shade
or hear the sound of my feet
while there’s a moon
over Bourbon Street
(Sting)
My name is Valkyr. I am a vampire. And live among you.
My existence began in 1899. Considering the life span of a vampire, I’m still young. My mother, Shaya, was a vampire too. From her, together with my bloodthirst, I received my dark gift. My father, whose name and story were unknown to me for a long time, was instead a mortal. From him, I received something else.
For a long time, I only knew my mother had bitten my father to the throat, killing him, the same moment he had conceived me in her womb. I thought she had chosen a mortal because the cold semen of another vampire would never impregnate her.
For a long time, I thought I had received from him, whom I considered just another of my mother’s victims, that little humanity I have in me, preventing me sometimes from making peace between my soul and my needs.
I was wrong.
Do not believe in legends. We, homines nocturni, have existed since the dawn of mankind. Or at least this is what our elders say, even though I know none of them, old and honest enough to be reliable about the history of our kind.
Do not trust religions and superstitions either. Crucifixes and talismans do not stop me. I often spend peaceful solitary hours in the quiet silence of the crypt of an ancient church. I don’t think there is a safer place for me than one that is every day crowded by those who fear me the most. At night, I get on the roof and wait for my victims, clinging to the rusty iron crucifix on the top of the bell tower.
I cannot die. Not like mortals do, at least. Some of us suffer from a kind of garlic allergy, which may cause us what is now known to human science as anaphylactic shock. The same applies to silver. We have no problem with iron in our bloodstream, but we can get some difficulties with silver. It may damage our tissues and delay our regenerative processes. As for me, the sunlight weakens me enough to make me nearly look like a human. That’s why my hunt begins at sunset.
Bloodthirst only kills me. I need to feed to not die.
As for this, at least, I am lucky. The dark gift is different for each of us. I’ve got the power to subdue my victims’ minds. Those who surrender to my power receive two little wounds that will heal with some good steaks in a few days and a night of oblivion. Those who, instead, resist my power and wake up the predator in me are found bled by their foolishness.
There are things no one is allowed to oppose. Death is one of those. Escape is the only way out I grant my prey. If they can. It’s the predator’s natural law.
Sometimes, yet, human nature amazes me. Some people ask for nothing but to be deprived of their life as if it were a burden. To be relieved of their freedom as if it were a chain. I wonder, in those moments, if I should deprive them of such an unbearable burden and accord them the vampire baptism, which would make them slaves of mine. But I don’t want to be a Master. I don’t want to initiate a blood chain. Not again.
This is the life I’ve been granted, and I accept it as it is. I won’t cut the thin thread of a mortal life for the pleasure one more prey gives me. I decide whether to kill or not. And I don’t kill for the sake of killing. If I do it, I do it for survival, as this is what I want the most: to live the life I received. And let any mortal face their destiny.
Humans dream of power, beg me to make them similar to me, to leave a life they can't stand, persuaded that an existence like mine is desirable. They would pay any price to get it.
Others dream of serving a powerful master, of being their slaves for all eternity.
My refusal of their request often makes them so mad that when they realise, they will not receive from me the escape they want from a life they hate, they take it.
It’s a choice I do not understand, but it’s their choice, not mine. Their prayers don’t buy my mercy as I don’t know what mercy is. Their offers do not tempt me, for they have nothing to offer me. Fate chose this life for me, so be it for them as well.
There are times, however, when I am amazed at myself. I realise I feel a strange regard for some among those who hate me the most, as those are the ones more bound to their life, which they consider precious.
I never hurt them. I respect them, instead, although they see me as a danger and an enemy.
We just do not cross each other’s paths. If they don’t seek me, neither do I.
And when they pass away, sometimes I visit their tombs and pray, my way, for them, as they’ve reached a peace at the end of their life, I probably never will. Sometimes I wonder if my father’s spirit watches this son of his.
My only friend is my thirst, always accompanying me, as the only constant presence in this life of mine that slips on me like a cloud on the horizon of time.
Suns rise and set, men are born, live and die. I stay here to claim my tribute from life, defending and conquering my right to exist on the throat of those who cross my path.
My name is Valkyr. I am a vampire. And whether you like it or not, I live among you.
