*Cry

THIS SCENE IS PERFORMED BY PROFESSIONALS. PLEASE DO NOT DO THIS AT HOME.

What happened?

No comment.

"Lord, your secret is safe with me," Dr. Magoo says as he gets up from the kneeling position he was in to beg me to spare his life.

I nod in a gesture of forgiveness. If Dr. Magoo weren't a genius, he would have needed to find an emergency host for his brain.

"Here is your subscription; you must cut down on the sugar and take a bite at least once a week."

It's easy for him to say, there's only one person I want to sink my teeth into these days, and I cannot. At least I needn't go to The Den like Seconds to suck on blood strumpets. The courtesan's neck has more holes than cheddar cheese. Each bite transmits a mark overlapped by another, which leaves their skin smelling like a public urinal.

I get up to leave. I'm at the door when Dr. Magoo says, "and lord Tepes, a Strigoi, even king is allowed to cry from time to time."

The dark eye I throw him erases the little grin of satisfaction he has on his face as I leave his cabinet.

Mephisto waits for me in front of the car. He lifts his head from his Switch game console and smirks, "did someone die in there?"

"Why?"

"Well, I think everyone from here to Porto Rico must have heard you."

"Mephisto."

"Yes, Boss."

"How long do you wish to live?"

"Longer than this, let's say a couple of centuries, Boss, sorry, Boss," Mephisto says as he opens the door of the car for me.

So there you have it, I lord Søren Waldermar Tepes. The third child of lord Dracos, the great vampire son of Xrosos, the Dragon, prince, and ruler of all vampires living from here to Lapland. Brother of Jesus Warenhader Tepes and late king Inerglas Tepes had a cavity, high cholesterol, and I cried like a baby when doctor Magoo smashed my fang.

Right now, I need some sleep, but we are Tuesday.

As the clock strikes 7 PM, Aurora enters the parlor.

She has a black tailored suit with a thin red belt at the waist, which matches her blood-red lipstick and shoe insoles. Aurora must have come straight from work.

"Good evening," Mephisto welcomes her with his accustomed cynical smile. Aurora sneers at him and redirects her stare at me. Unlike most times where her gaze is sensual here, she gives me a quizzical look. Questions concerning me cloud her mind.

"Good evening Aurora."

The vampires present are silent, which is rare.

Aurora follows me into my hall of limbo; the walk is long; she must be in a knot. We enter the office, and Aurora immediately takes off her jacket, revealing a red lingerie-type tank top.

"So, do I speak?"

I nod; without me telling her, Aurora proceeds to take off her tank top and unclips her bra.

I don't have time to ponder on how she knew I would tattoo the cleavage area as she begins to talk, "ㅡhave you ever felt as though you know someone that there's a particular connection? I don't know why, but that's what you inspire me. Your eyes, lips, and nose, everything about you seems familiar.

The frown on my face must be huge; a corner smile appears on Aurora's face as she pursues her confession, "ㅡI even dream of you, but you are not the same. ㅡYour hair is long, and you seem to be in another world. You also live in a castle, and I am a maiden. I work relentlessly, cleaning stables and piling cow dung. The stench of farm animals follows me everywhere; the odor of swine remains even when I bathe. Also, when I spend all my money on bars of soap, the beastly fragrance endures.

Aurora closes her eyes as she tries to tune her mind into the live streaming of another life.

"ㅡYou pass me, on your black horse, the crowd lowers their head, but I remain to stare at you. The guards beat me for my eyes trespass. ㅡYou kiss me and live in the castle like a princess. Those who looked down on me fear me, and you transform me. Your fangs sink deep into my flesh, and you read in me as I can read in you. I, too, drink the blood from your wrist. It's warm, succulent. I beg for more. I always beg for more."

My hands move in their own accord with the coil machine. In a trance, I become a witness to the same images of our past.

"ㅡPeople begin a witch hunt, blood streams down the gutters. You abandon me; you come back. You enter my room and embrace me and whisper; you love me and thenㅡ.

Aurora's eyes open, "you stab me."

Shit, she knows.

The session is complete. Aurora sits up; behind her stare, I see flames. Ashamed, I lower my gaze to her décolletage. Her eyes follow, and she contemplates the truth, the traditional tattoo of a dagger piercing a heart.

I back away, my pores throb like bottle caps, ready to burst as for the first time in centuries, I'm on the brink of breaking a sweat.

"I guess you can say you killed me twice."

I don't know who is talking; Aurora's eyes glint with a new speck, "Søren, make me yours again."

Ophelia.

She speaks through Aurora, and Ophelia is here with me.

The scenario is unrealistic; the dead never come back unless they are vampires. Ophelia should be purging the sentence for her sins in the depths of purgatory, yet the woman who walks towards me, topless, is Ophelia, my queen.

"Søren, make me yours again."

There's no escape route. Backed up against the wall, Ophelia has got me. Aurora is human; thus, violence is not an option. She tilts her head to one side and clears the hair on her neck, "go on, bite me. I know you're hungry."

The temptation is strong, I'm thirsty, and here, I have a woman, my woman with her nipples winking at me and her carotid arteries bulging out. Once more, I question my intent; this fatality was inevitable from the moment I began to trifle with the woman's mind. Perhaps I desire her more than I imagined, hunger, loneliness, and lust; all reasons are legit.

What harm can one bite do?

"Take a bite, my lord."

It's one of those moments where instincts are exacerbated, and one can murder in the momentary derangement.

The small mirror magnifying of the trolley pedestal reflects my direction, and I see the epic motion picture of myself plunging the dagger into Aurora's chest. As if it were yesterday, the 'echoes of the cracking sound of her thorax as I push the poniard deeper resonates in my ears. Deep and with force, I plunge until the weapon's pique hits her heart, which pops like a water balloon, and the smell of fresh blood that gushes out and infects my nostrils.

Weak.

Father was right. I admit it; my sentimentality is a significant deficiency.

My sins are unforgivable. I committed a parricide, murdered my lover, proceeded to manslaughter, amongst other executions. And I shamelessly proclaim myself the spokesman of peace. The torment in my mind is getting the best of me, and Mina's neck is closer. She whiffs and caresses my cheek with hers. Heat brooms my ears as she whispers, "you are a natural born killer, do not repress thy nature, my Lord."

My nature.

What am I?

Bloodsucker.

Who am I?

A predator.

Like those of a newborn, they grow. Twenty minutes Dr. Magoo said. The fangs are sharp, sturdy, unsullied, and ready to crunch.

"Take me and free yourself."

Behind the flames of Ophelia's eyes, Aurora's soul screams. Here I face the dilemma, and I am a victim of the law I amended. None can take a soul without consent.

"Someone, help me."

The door flies open, Mephisto glares at Aurora. Fuzziness fills Aurora's mind, all is unsynchronized, and I found myself disconnected from the Egeskov horror show. Their eyes remain transfixed on one another in a battle of nerves until Aurora faints.

"Mephisto, what have you done?"

"Nothing, Boss."