Recalling 1991 AD.

Daniel was shaking.  He swung his feet to the floor and then stood, gauzy fabric rubbing against his fine blond hair as he moved.  He turned, a likely aura of static-charged hair standing about his head.  He was staring at Robert and Robert was staring back.  "I know them, don't I?" Daniel asked.

"I don't know," Robert said and it sounded true.  He looked puzzled. 

The names were all so familiar: the woman Blade Dangerous and her friend John Jett who had sought out Steven Jewel for themselves and then investigated the so-called Vampyres for him.  And Mandy, that name was so close...

A hospital Robert had said Steven had ended up in.  And the woman, Blade, had found him there where no reporter had been able to.  When Robert had told the story Daniel had seen her in his mind before she was described in Louis' words. 

"Ah!" Daniel cried and pulled at his hair.  "What's going on here?"  The words were replaying in his mind.  Robert sipping beer, eating an apple.  They always came up sooner or later, but he licked the sickness because it hurt.  He felt he deserved the pain.  He had loved Steven as a friend, and lost his friend.

And then Louis had come down to the Necropolis dressed in black vinyl and invited Robert to a club with him and Psyche.  But Robert didn't want that sort of pain, it was all wrong.

Robert was, unknowingly maybe, seeking betrayal.  He felt guilt for Steven's pain, even if it was more Niki's fault, and Robert needed to be punished for his guilt.  He wanted Betrayal as he had betrayed Steven.  But he had to find someone to befriend and trust before there could be betrayal.

And that was when Louis had said it: "There's a woman."

"She's onto us," Louis said.  "She spoke to Steven.  Psyche says she's loosing Steven, what is insanity in others now keeps Steven from losing his mind to her.  His thoughts are stronger and clearer everyday. And this woman has spoken to him.  She's even got other's helping her, a hacker to uncover our trail of false identities, and some artsy photographer friend, and a sidekick as well." He had waved his hand before his silent father's eyes.  "I finally discovered her identity, Shade, listen to this: she's one of those supermodels.  Gorgeous, thinks she's Batman, I swear."

"What's her name?"

"You spoke!"

"Her name?"

"Oh!  The best!  Blade Dangerous, now does that sound pretentious as Hell or what?"

Robert only mumbled.

"Look, she's just the thing to cheer you up.  She's gorgeous, blonde, tall, blue-eyed, thin-waisted, voluptuous as all that.  She's your type, kill her, we all stay safe, and you'll feel better...she was on House of Style, buying shoes on 8th Street with Cindy..."

"I always flip channels during House of Style," Robert had said.

"I saw that episode..." Daniel whispered again.

"Maybe you are older than you look," Robert said to Daniel.

"Is this a trick?  Do you know me?"

Robert shook his head.  "Perhaps the telling of the tale will be worth more than I had thought."

"But it's just a story!"

Robert shrugged.  "But we're not sure who we're fooling anymore."

Daniel took a deep breath and looked up at the dark violet ceiling.  "You said they had met up in Steven's apartment, Blade, John, and Robert...and then you mentioned Mandy," Daniel sighed.

"Yes," admitted Robert but didn't continue.  It did seem he had become just as confused as Daniel felt.

"What?"

"When I reach for your thoughts I'm blocked...random images, I thought."

"They're not random are they?"

Robert shook his head.  "Random in order, but finite in number...in any case I can't get through."

Daniel sighed.  He didn't even want to bother to mention that now Robert was speaking as if it were fact he and the character Robert were one and the same.  "Tell the story, Robert, you've already planted enough facts in it.  Keep it up and you may just start telling my story."

"Might I?" Robert asked playfully.  Or maybe he was amused that Daniel actually believed the story.

"Yes," sighed Daniel, "I'd really like to hear it, I'm not sure I remember how it goes."

b                  b                  b

Robert had walked into his old bedroom in Steven's penthouse.  Blade stood looking at him, his own blue chiffon scarf dropped from her left hand.  Robert reached forward and caught it up.  No one spoke as Robert stood winding the scarf about his head, lifting the tangled locks up so that they were held standing above his head.  He tucked the end of the scarf under itself. 

Blade slipped a gun from her back into her right hand, held it at her thigh and stared as if transfixed, blood rushing to her cheeks.  John was right behind her, dressed in black leather, as Blade was, looking scared. 

Blade looked like Ariella!

She tore her eyes away from his and fired.

Robert stood standing with a bullet wound in his gut, stunned, full of pain, and staring at his ghost.  He caught one thought from her, different.  She fired again.

John's arms went around her, forcing the gun down to the floor.  He was screaming, "Blade! Oh, fuck, Blade stop!"

Blade made one long high pitched scream as she freed her arms, then fired a third time.  Robert took the shot in his chest, felt his heart skip two beats before pumping again, and he cringed away from her.  He looked up into her eyes.  Why?  The next shot took part of his shoulder off.  "Damn 38s," he thought to himself.   And then one more shot rang making it five.

There was blood everywhere, on Blade's jacket, pooling down onto the carpet, soaking Robert's clothing.  He fell down on his hands and knees.  Oh, but the bleeding felt so good.  He felt he'd got the punishment he deserved, somewhat.  It was all made more perfect by the fact she looked like Ariella.  The two women he saw in that body before him should kill him; he deserved it.  "Shoot me in the head," he whispered.  She was frozen, dull-eyed.  "Fuckin' shoot me in the head, Blade!"

He could tell she wanted to do it, but he'd spoken her name.  Her hands shook terribly as she aimed the gun.  Tears came up in her eyes.  John was screaming at her, telling her to run, to get out of the place.

Blade choked and staggered to one side.  John followed, took the gun from her hand.  "You fucking killed a man, you weren't supposed to—"

John dragged Blade from the room. 

Robert couldn't move.  Louis, help me.   He felt things spinning.  He had to get out of the penthouse; Humans would come to investigate.  He took off his shirt, careful to keep the flesh of his shoulder intact as possible.  Everything stung.  His heart was faltering; the shot to his chest had been close to it. 

The room wavered, it seemed everything tilted, and strange faces filled the mirror.  Robert thought this was dying, maybe...the strangers coming to drag you away...where was Zerachiel?  And then he remembered he'd sent her away long ago.  He did not want to die if unable to see her, and he might just live even if Blade returned and burnt him to ashes. And that would not be the right sort of pain.  Louis!

The boyish Vampyre climbed in the bedroom window, tearing through the aluminum foil Robert had used to keep out the sun.  "Pa," he whispered. 

Robert forced himself to look up. 

"Oh, Lord, this is going to be tricky, this building is surrounded with cops," Louis said.  He lifted Robert up, held him to his chest, making sure the blood soaked shirt was not left behind.  Louis carried his father out the window, looked down.  "I'm going to jump it," he said, "just make sure you hold on."

They landed safely enough on the sidewalk.  But people saw them.  Louis took off the heavy coat he was wearing and put it on Robert.  The wounds were closing up and Robert made a small whine.  "I can feel the metal closed up inside me," he said.

"We'll hardly get there going above ground," Louis said, "There's an N stop a couple blocks over, we can get into the tunnels, I can get you home much faster that way."

"If a train doesn't hit us."

Louis laughed, "I've been doing this a really long time, Pa, trust me, K?"

b                  b                  b

Robert recovered.  Louis even removed all the bullets from him, having a set of surgical tools at the Necropolis just for such occasions.  He was surprised when Robert said he'd never been hit before.

Louis fed his blood to Robert right from the heart, or as close to it as one can get with a tongue flickering over muscle and between ribs.  Incredibly intimate and extraordinarily risky, as the wound had to be quite deep. 

When Robert felt himself strong enough he sat up and pressed his hand flat to Louis' chest.  He looked down quickly.  Louis was grinning at him, looking somewhere between satisfaction and amusement.  He lifted his fingers to Robert's lips.  "I love you," he said.

Robert just gave half a nod.

Holding Robert's hand to his chest with his own Louis raised himself up.  He danced his fingers around Robert's neck and pulled him closer.  He kissed him then. You might actually have died, how could you do this to me?  How could you be so stupid?   His fangs were tearing at Robert's tongue.  She's only Human, even if she took you by surprise...

Robert pushed him away.

Louis lay back against the pillows, laughing.  He pulled up his knees.  "Fuck you."

"Don't let me hear you say it again, Athené, and stop laughing, this is serious."

"What's serious?  You gonna tell me why you got shot five times?"

Robert just nodded. 

Louis' face went blank.  "You wanted to die, didn't you?" He shouted.

A tear escaped Robert's left eye.  He nodded and then he said very quietly, "She looks like your mother."

Louis turned his head toward the living room.  He was utterly silent. 

"Louis?"

He sat up and hit his father in the chest.  "Don't tell me that!"

Robert coughed, didn't know why Louis was reacting that way.  He shook his head.

"No."  Louis pounded on Robert again.  "I already chose, damn you, I already chose between you.  Don't you leave me alone!"

Robert took hold of Louis arms; they wrestled.  Robert was stronger, even with the wounds; he pinned Louis down, held a knee to his chest.  "Stop."  But Louis struggled.  "I'm not leaving you."

"You will, die, fall in love, all the same.  You'll find her, get her, make her love you.  It's easy for you.  You'll leave me alone!"

Robert lay down over Louis, keeping him pinned to the bed with his weight.  He kissed him quickly, then looked down into his eyes.  "I'm your father, half of you is me.  My blood turned you.  I cannot leave you, I could run to the other side of the planet, we two would still be joined."

"She'll ruin you!"

Robert knew it, somewhere in his soul he knew, and he didn't really care. 

Louis cried.

b                  b                  b

New Years Eve.  They had agreed to stay in hiding.  It was too dangerous to go out.  Already there were Humans who suspected the "Vampire killer" had moved to New York.  Humans had been to Steven's house several times; they'd taken up samples of the blood from the carpet for their tests.  Louis said there was no way the blood would look Human to them, not with the equipment Humans had then.  All of New York knew that several mysterious persons had been involved with Steven Jewel before he disappeared.  They all knew who Blade was only they had no idea she sought out wrongs to right as if with vengeance, she was just a supermodel, not a superhero.

If any of the Vampyres left the Necropolis for long they'd be found out.  Of course they could easily live for years in New York without being discovered, they had enough false IDs, bank accounts and houses to support themselves quite well.  What they couldn't do was go anywhere near Steven Jewel or his new friend, Blade Dangerous.  

But, of course this was just what Robert did.  Face hidden by the deep hood of a thick winter jacket, he tailed Steven to a SoHo gallery where he was attending a party, he watched the door.  Blade showed also, wearing a Mugler, John at her side.  They called up into the gallery, but just as the door was buzzed open someone screamed below.  A woman in faux fur clopped across the street and threw her arms about Blade's neck.  John went into the building before them.  Another man jogged up just as John disappeared from sight.  "Was that John?" He asked.

Blade stood in the door, a hand either side of it baring the way.   "He doesn't want to see you, Dear."

The man, casually dressed for such a party, pushed Blade out of the way.  "You're a prick, Dave," the other woman shouted after him.  And she dragged Blade inside.  More people showed up after them, all downtown artsy types. 

Robert noted that only the windows of the third and fourth floors were lit.  Going down the fire escape and crossing the street he looked at the building directory: 3 Armand Valois Gallery 4 Valentine-Valois Fine Art Gallery 

Robert was standing against the front of the building hidden only by shadows when the guests left.  Blade left before Steven, the woman in faux fur stumbling on platform heels, pin curls loose and lipstick and one eyebrow smudged as she fell against Blade.  "You're hopeless, Darling," Blade said.

She held her first two fingers to her temple. 

Blade put an arm around her shoulders and leaned in to give her a kiss. 

The woman was getting more interesting by the second, Robert thought.

He saw Steven leave the building with a young somewhat Beverly-Johnsonesque woman.     

John came from the building looking sick and following a young black man whom Robert had seen in a couple clubs.  A name that began with W...perhaps. 

Not soon after the sidewalk filled up.  At the center of the crowd a youngish auburn-haired man, about the same height as Steven, smiling silently at the small crowd.  A tall gray-haired man with a ponytail whispered at his ear and Dave was trying to argue with him.  They called him Mandy and Robert guessed this to be Armand Valois who owned the galleries.  He thought this name sounded as false as his did, as Blade's did.

b                  b                  b

Blade lived in a nice apartment in the west 20's, the living room had one large window, and along this same wall were two other smaller windows looking in on her apartment.  Robert had followed her New Years Eve.  After that he went there regularly and sat on the fire escape of the building across the street watching.  The woman he'd seen go home with Blade the first night seemed to be a lover, but all Blade's other lovers were men.  Flipping through Faye's fashion magazines at home, Robert guessed the woman to be Keri Michaels, a very popular American model and the brunette often paired with Blade to offset her lighter coloring.  Keri was an obvious coke addict, Blade knew, tolerated it to a point, but often spent time yelling at Keri and slamming doors on her. 

John lived in the apartment, sleeping in the smaller second bedroom and hiding out whenever Keri was about.  He seemed to have no life but taking care of Blade, following her to parties and taking odd jobs she got for him.  It wasn't laziness: John seemed, from the way people treated him, to have once been a gifted dancer whose knee injury had been a tragedy.  He wore a brace on this left knee all the time and seemed to take an awful lot of pills for the pain. 

Except for Keri all of Blade's lovers were men, she preferred it seemed young muscular men with just slightly boyish faces, aspiring boy models or dancers she discovered in dance clubs who wore baggy pants that hung at their hips and oversized shirts.  They type you saw in half the videos on MTV, on half the billboards in The City.  If they fucked on her bed and she kept the lights on you could just make out their legs straining against each other.  Once Robert had seen Blade up against the window with a young man taking her from behind. 

He'd watched her face twist between her elbows and sliced open his wrist. 

Several times Mandy visited Blade's apartment.  He was always well dressed, always stepping over the assorted clutter of the living room with disgust, pinching up pairs of nylons and raising his eyebrows.  Often when he came it was to deliver manila envelopes filled with photographs, but Robert knew these were not of Blade.  Mandy knew about her vendetta, her crime-fighting, and he helped her by taking photos of people she was investigating.  Just once Robert had been watching when Blade hosted a small party.  Mandy had brought with him a fortune in cocaine and drawn lines on Blade's coffee table for Keri and a few other friends.  It seemed Keri and Mandy were also lovers.

And it seemed Mandy and John were not, but had been.  Robert knew these signs, looking away from each other when alone, Mandy bringing small presents to John and receiving kisses just aside the mouth for it, and of all John and Blade's friends Mandy seemed the most concerned with John's knee.  He never let John get up and serve him but would fetch John ice, or his pills, drinks from the fridge, even walk across the room to change the CD after which John would sit straighter and say something that was obviously, "I love this album."  And Mandy would smile without saying anything. 

Steven had been at the party.  Blade had kept herself draped over him.  But the few times she was away greeting people at the door Mandy had stepped in and attempted to charm him.  Steven's body told Robert that he was uncomfortable around Mandy. 

It seemed, distasteful as it was, that Blade was part of a group of friends, one might even say family, in which all were linked because they had been lovers, or were, or were the lovers of another's lover.  Blade, Keri, and Mandy were certainly linked.  It seemed John was linked in some way to Mandy, and Dave to John.  And Mandy had brought a tall gray-haired man to a party who seemed to be a lover.  And there was another man with a goatee and very short brown hair that Robert had seen with Mandy, and this man who seemed to be a painter had also been with a totally different gray-haired man with a pony-tail whom seemed to be named Valentine and own half of one of Mandy's galleries.  It did occur to Robert that most of them were linked by Mandy, and that he was rather a slut.  But Blade seemed to hold them together as well, only she didn't sleep with them all.

When Blade was alone Robert would watch her, sitting across the way eating an apple though he knew it would make him sick, and trying not to mind the cold.  The young painter who lived behind this window had donated blood to Robert twice then, and though she did not know this, she felt a chill come over her when walking by the window.  She never bothered him.  And he didn't interfere too much in her life.  It was Blade he really wanted. 

Blade reminded him so much of Ariella, not by her intellect, not by any stretch, though Blade was intelligent and devious.  It was the figure, the strength she radiated, the strange inability to allow any man to control her. 

Robert wondered what her parents were like, if she had family.  She didn't think of them much, but sometimes she would get a phone call late at night and sit on her bed looking a little shocked, then Robert would get images from her: a tall strong man with her pallor and more evil, more metallic blue eyes that loomed and threatened and made loud noises, a slender woman with gold hair and tan skin and Blade's eyes who seemed in image nothing more than a shade, and a boy, sometimes Blade saw him as being a child sometimes she saw him as a teenager but he was always gold-haired and blue eyed and sweeter and prettier than the other two figures.  Blade felt fear for him, became protective when she heard his voice over the phone: he was her brother.

Steven came to see Blade alone one night.  Robert arrived to find them already together; he seethed with jealousy, the girl in the apartment behind him distracting him.  She was crying into a phone, saying she'd gotten accepted but she did not know if she could afford it.  He stole from her the name of an art school.  She said she would try to get into the dorm, hope her financial aid came through.  Robert felt sad.  Her paintings along with the fact she lived across from Blade had kept her from killing her.  Her paintings made him feel things when he looked at them, happiness, confusion, and determination. 

He looked back across the street.  They were kissing each other.  All wrong, he thought, they are all wrong for each other, either one he would rather see with him than the other.  It was too much to finally sit and watch them kiss.  Robert opened the window and went into the girl's apartment.

She was sitting on cushions staring at her latest painting, pink cloud shapes on a deep blue sky, it seemed the moon lay somewhere behind.  Robert felt a little bit of joy looking at the strange night sky, and a little bit of fear. 

She stared up at him.  Robert walked to the narrow kitchen counter, wrote out the number of Louis' cellular phone.   "Call my son, his name's Louis, he'll give you money for the painting," Robert said. 

The girl stared dumbly as Robert folded the slip of yellow paper into her hand. 

"Don't worry, he'll like the paintings, he won't hurt you.  He could do with some new friends."

Robert left by the window and climbed down to the street.

b                  b                  b

Blade was sitting in an armchair when Robert let himself in; Steven's back was to him, as he stood at Blade's side, perhaps ready to move right into the chair with her.  Blade's eyes darted to her bedroom: where she kept the guns.  Steven turned very slowly. 

"Hello," said Robert softly.

Steven turned and backed into the side of Blade's chair.  Blade inched forward and turned to look up at Robert.  "What are you doing here?"

"I've been watching your apartment for weeks," Robert said.

Blade took Steven's hand and stood up.  Robert could see her calculating, thinking back on all the things she'd done in view of windows.  "Get out."

"Are you going to shoot me again if I don't leave?" Robert asked, "Think I'll be as stunned the second time and stay still for it?"

"He's dangerous," Steven hissed.

"I'm Dangerous," said Blade.  Hint of arrogance, or pride. 

Robert moved across the room and sat down on the couch.  He gazed at Steven.

"He wants something," Steven whispered, turning Blade toward him even as he stepped toward the door.

Blade turned from him and stood facing Robert, hands placed on hips.  Her eyes moved over him quickly, focused on his own.  "Which of us is it you're really after?"

Robert looked at Steven.  "It was never my plan to have Niki marry you, to steal from you. Why'd you send Blade after me?"

Steven looked distressed.  It became obvious to Robert then that Steven had really doubted his self, had only named Robert because he was the one on all the tabloid covers. 

Robert nodded, understanding. Steven had never really wanted vengeance against anyone, especially not Robert...it had mostly been Blade's doing.  Robert turned then to Blade.  "But you...you shot me," he said slowly.

"Go home, Steven," Blade said quickly.

"He's a liar!"

"Go." She snapped.

Steven looked at her, tortured.  But he went to the door.  He turned back once and looked to Robert, "Don't do this."

"Go home, Steven, everything will be OK now," Robert said. 

Steven seemed swayed by the words and left quickly.

Blade stood staring at Robert he looked at her in a casual way, letting his eyes swim over her.  "You're really alive," she said, "Steven told me but..."

"Yes, alive," Robert said slowly.  He licked at his lips quickly.  "It hurt...a lot...Blade."

Blade looked a little nervous.  She remained standing.  "You'll leave Steven Jewel alone?"  It seemed she thought Robert there to kill her.

"I will not hurt him," Robert said, then added, "I don't think I'll hurt you either."

Blade didn't believe this.  "What do you want then?"

Robert just smiled.

Blade stared into his eyes, the black eyes Daniel finds so interesting.  Her cheeks colored slightly.   "You're not some kind of fetishist, you're really a vampire?"

"I don't like that word much, but I don't suppose anyone your age would understand it any other way.  I do drink blood, Steven never saw me do it..."

Blade turned her back to him, a test no doubt.  "Let me guess...you fought it when the vampire attacked you and you hate what you are, you're miserable, you walk about in black moaning at the moon, and you kill only small animals?"

He laughed, fell back into the sofa, picked up the comic book that found it's way into his hands and began reading.  "Try again, Honey," he said.  He saw Blade take a seat on the arm of the chair then looked down at the book in his hands. 

"Satisfied?" Asked Death.  Not yet, Gorgeous.

"You're numb and indifferent to the world and you need some warm body to make this century make sense to you?"

Robert laughed.  "I understand this century quite well.  I think you believe too much of what you read.  Do you think I wake up every day and say to myself, 'Damn me I'm a vampire,' no, I just wake up and ask myself, 'What shall I do today?'"

"I don't know what world you come from but here it's not every day you run into vampires, not to mention werewolves or...or Angels, or flying purple dragons!"

"We live in the same world, you just don't look at things the right way, you probably run into an Angel every day, a family of the Wolfbreed probably lives in this building, and flying purple dragons are just about extinct, but if you looked real hard you might just find one.  I'm certainly real enough, just as real as all the rest of my brood, and no more inherently evil than you are."

"If I clap my hands and say 'I believe in Faeries,' will a couple show up to guard me from you?"

"Just Faerie. Faerie is plural.  And what makes you think they would do that?"

"Oh, I see, we're talking about devious and murderous Faerie with smiles like the flash of a blade..."  She was just plain making fun now.

Robert dropped the comic book and dug a clove from a pocket.  He glanced up at Blade as it lit instantly.  She looked as if she would tell him he wasn't allowed to smoke in the house.  But the tension melted from her face and she just stood silent.  Robert leaned forward with a smile.  He ran his fingers over her face on the cover of French Vogue, he thought he could see the traces of cocaine on the glass tabletop.  "You have a smile like the flash of a blade," he said and drew a finger through the white dust.  Robert touched his finger to his tongue.  "You'd make a good Vampyre."