The Story of the Vampire, L (Completed | Featured )

Ch.13 pt 2, Matteo - 2013, An Unexpected Visitor

At midnight, at our house in Denmark, the doorbell rang, and I knew that it was a vampire because the dogs refused to bark. I was not frightened. I know many vampires. On my way out of Mini's study, I passed the crate where our malamutes had retreated, and bent to pat them. Sorrel, Minky, and Bear. They made no sound at all, a mass of fur and adrenaline, and so I knew the visitor was old.

I am not afraid to die. I have been in the presence of Death many times. I have kissed the hem of his robe and lain at his feet hoping for mercy. Take pity on vampires, Master Death, we only wish to die! I have conversed with him intimately, these four hundred years. If it were Death at the door, I might look on him pleasantly as a friend. As I approached, I heard Sorrel following, but he avoided my hand and I smelled the fear running through his body. "If you pee on my floor I will scold you," I told him, as the great hulking thing padded along behind me, my good favorite, who takes it upon himself to protect me when our Mini is away. Doing his best, Sorrel quailed behind me as I unlocked and opened the front door.

On the doorstep, in the dark, a tall figure with brown hair tied back into a man-bun. A little modern. Unusual. I took Sorrel's collar in my hand to give the dog back a little dignity. "Hello," I said to the old one, "Matteo. Come inside. The dog doesn't bite the dead."

"I'm looking for Miriam," he said, in a voice surprisingly unmeasured, without the cultured delicacy I had come to expect from Mini's associates. 

"He's not here. He's in America, but he puts me in charge when he's not around."

"You can let go of the dog. It's frightened."

I noticed then the slim box under his arm. "That's a manuscript? He's had you doing writing? Come inside. I'll fix you a warm compress," I said. 

As he stepped into the light to follow me inside, I noted his cheekbones, his few facial birth marks, his slightly crooked nose. His eyes had the telltale almond shape of the old Italians. His jaw, while strong, canted up in just such a way, accenting his ears and the length of his neck. Here was one whose beauty he did not mind much, and very different from the others I knew, who had been selected for dissimilar features. I noticed a clip taken out of his right ear, a little notch in the cartilage. His hand, which he offered to me to shake, was thicker than the long sylph-like ones I had often encountered among Mini's friends. The knuckles were large. This was a hand that had known hard work in its life. It felt good to touch such a hand. I traced the popped-up vein on his arm with my eye, because it wasn't harming anyone.

"A Roman? One of Laurent's brothers," I said, as he followed me into the study.

"A good eye. They call me 'Iovita'."

"Matteo. Mini's progeny."

"Attractive word," he said. "Your dog is fat."

"Have you come to murder me?" I asked.

"Not this time."

"Well, a boy can dream."

"I can kill your dog if it'll make you feel better," he said.

"Leave me my one comfort," I snapped playfully, and he laughed.

"That's what they all say, isn't it? Nice to see at least one of us is not dead serious all of the time." He leaned against Mini's desk and set his manuscript box down on the blotter. "I can't stay long."

"Oh sit a minute. Enjoy a compress and chat with me. I have to be polite with everybody else."

"We just met. I could be testing you."

"I failed. Sit down on the goddamned couch and be a friend. I like your work jeans. Been painting?"

"I hate your cut off shorts. Been hooking?" he asked, and took a seat in my favorite chair.