To Jonas, Embrace the Night

By
SD Hatfield & AC Curtis
www.sdhatfield.com

He left an hour before dawn. She knew, not from an internal clock as he did but because
he always left an hour before dawn. His leaving every night hurt her. She felt helpless against
his lack of trust and the secret that brought them together but held them apart. She tried not to
think of it as she moved restlessly in her bed. Instead, she thought of him, of the pleasure of
being with him, and of the nights they spent together.
Usually they talked. She would lower the lights to accommodate his sensitive eyes and
light scented candles to lend a romantic air to her shabby apartment. They would lie on her
couch with their arms and legs deliciously tangled. They would talk. His voice was constant,
steady and deep; she could feel it vibrate when she lay her head against his chest. Her voice
varied, now loud and fast with the conviction of her feelings, now low and soft as sleep spun its
spell around her mind. Sometimes, she would fall asleep and wake to find him watching her.
Mostly they talked about her life and his before. Often he would flatter her author's ego,
by telling her how the descriptions she wrote had brought the sunlight back into his life. She
would harp on her feelings which were strong on the subject of what the written word meant to
her. She would get so excited that she would move abruptly, tumbling them to the carpet where
he would laugh at her passion and she would kiss the hollow of his throat.
Rarely did they speak of what had brought him to her or how he came to her apartment
flushed with a stolen warmth. It was easier not to think of it when he was there. His presence in
solid flesh denied the nightmare, and his easy charm lulled her into forgetfulness of what he
really was... a vampire.
He did love her, but to him trust was not the same. Jonas had grown up on a small farm
in Illinois where the trust was freely given, but time and so much more separated him from then.
His family had been poor. It was only because Jonas was the youngest that he got any education
at all. Sometimes he felt that he was not just learning for himself but for his brothers and sisters
as well.
He was an excellent student and a voracious reader. He read everything that he could get
his hands on and that was not enough. It fostered a contempt in him for all that was familiar in
his squalid surroundings. He looked to Europe as a paradise and desperately wanted to see the
places that he read about. When he finished high school, part-time work on the farm became
full-time and his dreams fell away and for four long years, he worked the soil of his family's
farm and never revealed to those he loved his secret dream of escape.
The day America declared war on Germany, his life and millions of others changed.
Jonas snuck out of the house that very night and went to Chicago. Scant hours after leaving
home, Jonas was enlisted in the United States Army being shipped east to New Jersey.
After four months of training, Jonas finally got his wish. He went to France. He was, by
far, the most enthusiastic on the transport. He talked constantly to anyone who would listen.
After a week at sea, that list grew very short. His books had prepared him for a Europe of
historical mystique, but nothing prepared him for Europe at war.
It was another six months before his unit saw battle. During that time, Jonas quickly
became fluent in French. Uttered in a foreign tongue, even the tales of horror and bloodshed had
a fairy tale quality. He supposed that was when his callousness towards human life had really
begun.
An entire third of his unit died on their first day on the field of battle. Never before had
he seen so much death, so much blood. The horror of it beat upon his mind every night as he
slept and dreamed. Slowly, however, tolerance for bloodshed numbed his senses. The people he
killed were the enemy. He killed to survive, and human lives left their bodies the same as the
animals he had slaughtered on the farm for sustenance. There is little difference, really, between
a soldier and a vampire. His creator must have known that. He had to have seen something to
cause him to give Jonas the Dark Gift on that cool, clear night in Sangroieler.
But then... that was a long time ago, a time when he was human. It was surprising to
him that he could even feel love anymore. Of all the parts of his humanity that he lost he was
sure that would have been the first to go. Every time that he looked into her eyes he felt so...
alive. He often wondered if that was what love was.
Every night he would go to her. They would spend hours in their intimacy, two souls,
one full of life the other devoid of such. The story of his life left him as though he had never
kept it locked away, even from himself, for years. Her softly whispered questions and sensitive
replies made it all easy. The words left him, and as they did the weight of loneliness was lifted
as well.
The time that they spent together meant more to Jonas than anything, but every morning
before dawn he would leave. There were too many chances of something going wrong if he
stayed. It was not easy for him to leave, but staying there with her was even harder still. After a
hundred years, old habits die hard, and he just could not find that deep sense of trust that people
find for the ones they love. Why would a vampire need trust? People that served him did as
they were told, or they died. It was that easy. Have I really thought that? The question posed
itself to Jonas every night as he watched her sleep. The girl never knew how many times his
bestial nature almost answered for him. Sometimes, if he hadnt feed enough, he had to leave
early just so she did not become breakfast.
The apartment that he lived in was modest by any standard. It was all that he could
afford on his small income. When he was not sleeping or feeding, he wrote a travel article for
the local paper. He did not really consider himself to be a writer. The articles were mainly about
Europe. It was the kind of stuff that the upper class liked to read about. It was also a good cover
because he could disappear for days at a time without any suspicion being raised about his
whereabouts. When he killed, he killed quick and did his best not to learn anything about his
victims. It was always easier to dehumanize them and treat them as cattle. It was because of this
that he never felt sorry for what he did. The other thing that he was sure to do was never to take
too many people from the same place, that way nobody would get suspicious. He preyed most of
all on those that would not be missed, the homeless mostly, just like Simon Dark.
Simon Dark was a vampire like Jonas. Well, not exactly like Jonas. Simon was a
fictional character, Madeliene Balsam's character. Simon was not, like his literary counterparts
had become, a rock star. He was, as his creator put it, an A-V geek. He worked on audio-visual
equipment in various clubs and studios. The entertainment business seemed a popular place for
those who preferred the night air. Simon was unpretentious and likable, and his world, though
not glamorous, was one that Jonas knew and could relate to.
The book made Jonas believe that he was not alone. Madeliene wrote things about being
a vampire that literally shook him to the core. For every ounce of fiction in her story, there was
a pound of truth. He knew that they had to meet because after all of his years of traveling he had
finally found what he had really been searching for, a kindred soul.
The line outside the store was impressive. Jonas was able to blend into the crowd fairly
well. After all, the book that everyone was in line to have signed was about vampires. Of all the
people there, he looked the most like a normal human. The freaks! The thought entered his head
and then left before he could suppress it. He did not enjoy those thoughts, they seemed to
emphasize to him that he was no longer human.
It was through the paper that he found out where Maddy lived. Jonas was not much of a
stalker. That seemed to be one of the abilities that people assume all vampires have. For three
days he waited outside her apartment building, never quite getting up the courage to knock on
the door. He found out that she was doing a book signing at night. That would give him the
perfect opportunity to meet her.
When the time came for him to be at the front of the line, he felt almost faint. He had not
fed yet and the pressure of the crowd was getting to him. As he handed her the book he tried to
force words to his throat, but it seemed almost impossible.
The nighttime book signing was her publisher's idea. She hated public appearances. She
hated the way her tongue became wooden when the endless line of people came and she did not
know what to say. She hated seeing her picture plastered all over the place, photographs that
screamed her flaws from every side. She hated the fake smile she wore that made her want to
grimace and yawn to relieve her aching facial muscles. She hated it all, but there she was at
Barnes and Noble in Atlanta with a fortifying cappuccino at her elbow and a complimentary pen
at her fingertips.
She had dropped the fake smile for a moment and was looking up, stretching in an
attempt to create some blood flow to her lower back, when she spied a fellow sufferer.
He looked as uncomfortable as she felt. He held his book before him like a shield and
shrank away from any accidental contact with the rest of the line. He was a tall, pale man with
black hair. He had great hair. It was the first thing she noticed; she wanted to twine her fingers
in the dark, luxuriant stuff.
He caught her looking at him, but for once, she did not feel embarrassed. They made eye
contact, and she felt a genuine smile ease her ill-used face. He smiled back. It was the kind of
moment she only wrote about. She had almost convinced herself that she had imagined the
whole incident when he reached the front of the line and smiled at her again. She did not
look up when he handed her the book.
"To Jonas, please," said a deep, pleasant voice.
"How do you spell that?" She looked up as she spoke. His face was much younger than
his voice. He smiled at her again. Like his voice, his smile was open, warm, and sad. It even
added depth to a simple sequence of letters. She stared at the inside cover of the book; she no
longer remembered what she was doing. Her photo on the jacket grinned mockingly at her. She
shook her head with a start and signed it quickly. He took the book from her hands, and it was
replaced by another.
Jonas, she thought, that's his name. Or is it? Perhaps, he was getting it signed for a
friend or a son. She scanned the room urgently for a dark head but had no luck.
A few blocks over, Jonas sat on the fifth floor fire escape. He sat cross-legged with the
book on his lap. He had read this copy almost ten times. Something about it drew him in. The
characters were all people that he knew. Even though it portrayed the typical vampire plot, it
was a lot closer to real than many of the genre. Jonas would admit to himself that at times he
wished he could be like Lestat or Louis. The fact of the matter was that they were fictional
characters and tended to give vampires a bad name. The main thing that separated Maddy's book
from the others was the author. When he read about Simon Dark, he felt that the words were
written for him. The problems that the main character had were problems that he experienced.
Perhaps one of the hardest aspects of being a vampire is deciding where you fit in. In the book
Jonas found somebody who understood that problem. The book was written so well that Jonas
thought that perhaps the author was a vampire. The first daytime signing ruined that idea for
him.
A slight drizzle had begun to fall. Jonas looked at his watch; the signing would last for
about another hour. He was sure that it would move inside. In the alley below him he heard
someone stir. Well, if I have to wait I might as well have dinner. The homeless man in the ally
below never knew what hit him.
He was standing by her car, in the parking lot in front of the shop, when she left that
night. She felt a thrill of fear mingled with excitement when she saw him there. The parking lot
was well-lit, and there were still people inside the store. Out of the corner of her eye, she could
see a sales clerk closing down one of the registers. Help was only a cry away. She slowed but
continued to move toward him. He seemed a menacing shape in shadow. Then he smiled, and
the darkness lifted.
"I wanted to thank you again for signing my book. I'm sure you don't remember me. I'm
Jonas Hawkins, Ms. Balsam."
How could she have been frightened? He was so obviously a gentleman, standing in the
full light of a street lamp. How could she have imagined him in shadow? His paleness must
have been from the fluorescent lights in the store. Now he seemed almost flushed.
As he looked at her, he felt a sigh escape from him. In all of his years he had seen
women that were more beautiful, but none that were more perfect. Her eyes glowed in the dim
light as out of an antique portrait. The museums he had visited in Europe had been filled with
women like her, only she was alive. The light of the lamp touched the curve of her neck where
her pulse was. He introduced himself and held out his hand. Her reply was uttered softly.
"Please, call me Maddy." She shook his hand. The warmth of her hand hit him with an
almost tangible force. At that instant it was as if he could feel the heat moving under her skin,
that moment lasted an eternity.
She dozed off a few times but got little real sleep. The sunlight crept through the
window, lighting on the foot of the bed and moving slowly towards her. She shrank away from
it at first. She sat up with her back against the headboard and drew her knees under her chin.
She wondered what it would be like to fear that light.
She reached out her hand, stopping before it entered the light. Then she let it touch her
fingertips and next to the first joint of the index finger. She turned her hand over and allowed the
sunshine to cover her palm. The sunlight was warm. She put both hands in up to the wrist. She
looked at her hands with the wonderment of a child. She slipped bodily into the pool of light,
taking off her nightshirt so that she could feel it on her bare shoulders, chest, and torso. She
closed her eyes still facing the window. The light burned into her face turning the inside of her
eyelids red.
That awareness of the sunlight did not leave her all that day. She dressed and went out.
She rolled down the window so that it could come into her car. The waiter at the restaurant
looked at her strangely when she changed her mind from non-smoking to smoking in order to be
near a window. That evening she felt the dying of the day as though she might never see the sun
again.
In her novels, the vampires hung out at elegant night spots surrounded by youthful,
trendy mortals and impeccable servants. Jonas and Maddy ate at Waffle House, the only place
that served food at that hour. The other customers were predominantly truck drivers. Their
waitress' face was pale and drawn with two high spots of color on her cheeks. She set Maddy's
plate of hash browns before her with a clatter, quickly withdrawing her hand to smother a
hacking cough. She wiped the hand on a grease stained apron.
Somehow, Maddy was not hungry anymore. She sighed and leaned on her elbow
holding her chin in her hand. She regarded Jonas intently.
"What does it feel like to not worry about sickness?" she said. "To never ache or cough
or be congested or be tired."
"It's sort of strange at first. Then you don't notice it."
"Oh no. You're not getting off that easily. Tell me why really? Why did you do it?
Why'd you become a vampire? I mean, I know you told me you wanted to see the world, but
that's not the reason."
"Don't tell me you can't see the draw of immortality? Of invincibility? You were scared
of me when we first met out in that parking lot. If you were a vampire, you never would have to
fear anything again. You can't tell me you don't think about that. Why else would you write
about it? Why write a book about a vampire?"
"Answering a question with a question. That's not fair. Besides, you should know the
answer to that. You've ready my book. Or are you one of those people who skips introductions."
Jonas looked indignant. "I read it cover to cover."
"Well then... You know... Blood. It's a powerful symbol in our culture. The legend of
the vampire is a potent example of the importance we give it. Blood is the essence of life. Talk
all you want about semen, but if enough blood leaks out of you, you die. Blood gives oxygen to
your brain and your fingertips. When you stop breathing, you're not dead yet. You're dead when
your pulse stops, when the blood stops flowing through your veins. We speak of kinship in
terms of 'blood relations.' The Church of Rome states that when consecrated, wine becomes the
blood of Jesus Christ. Some people faint at the sight of blood. What would someone be like
who craved it to survive, needed the life, the blood, of another person? I tried to imagine a
modern day vampire. The tale spun itself, and I simply wrote it down." The now-cold plate of
hash browns was swept aside, and Maddy leaned across the table as though her words would
have more effect when fired at close range.
"But your understanding, your empathy with what I went through was so complete. I
thought you were a vampire," he said. Maddy laughed.
"Me, a crea-ture of tha' niii-ght!." Maddy made a silly face, but then thought better of it.
"I guess... I guess, it's not so far fetched after all. You're so real."
She touched his hand and reached out to run her thumb along his jawline.
He took her hand, holding it against his cheek. It did not hurt, but she knew she would
not be able to lose her fingers from that grip.
"Your characters are real, to you anyway and to most of your readers. I listen to you,
Maddy. You talk about your characters, you crawl into their heads. You travel in their bodies to
mystic realms. You told me so yourself." His eyes held hers. She felt her lips move as the
worlds were drawn through them.
"Yes... I... They're like voodoo dolls, except... except the drops of blood or nail parings
are pieces of my soul... memories and feelings woven into an artificial creation giving it life."
"You called them your multiple personalities. Said that born that sex, race, or under
those circumstances you would be that person."
"But I didn't... I mean that is only..." She was going to say theoretical, hypothetical, a
fantasy, all those things that mean not real which he was but shouldn't be. He was a man of real,
solid flesh. He was words on paper. Did she create him? No, her imagination never scared her
like this. His eyes asked a question she did not want to answer. She wanted to withdraw her
hand, her body from his gaze, withdraw her mind from the monster whose pressure on her hand
was fast becoming pain.
He let go of her hand. "I'm sorry, Maddy. I'm scaring you. That's not what I wanted. I
love you, and I want you to tell me you want it. Ask me for immortality? Darling, it only takes
a kiss." Like in the parking lot, her fear dissipated. He was no longer frightening, menacing, a
paradox that shook reality to its core. He was a sad and lonely man. She took a breath. This she
could deal with. This was the man with whom she had fallen in love.
She smiled as she absently rubbed the abused fingers of her left hand.
"I think I should go home." The words were said gently but firmly.
"I'll take you home. No, I know, you want to be alone. I promise, I just want to see you
safely to your door. Then I'll leave you alone to think."
His parting kiss was sweet. Their lips touched at the same time like clockwork that
rarely ever happened. As her body reacted to that kiss, the desire to ask him in gripped her as his
hand had hers. That thought drove her inside, alone.
Oh my God! Jonas thought to himself as he walked down the deserted street. What just
happened? He could remember the heat from her hand and the smell of the blood that ran
through it. The image that stuck out the most however was the look on her face when he alluded
to taking her. In that one instant he had seen in her eyes the fear that was normally reserved to
him by his victims. With a quick glance around the streets Jonas opened the door to his building.
Dawn would be coming soon and he knew that he must rest and prepare for his day, but he was
bothered.
The scene at the restaurant had replayed in his mind many times and always there was
one conclusion. He loved Maddy so much that he would actually kill her to be with her. He
wondered how she really felt abut the subject. The book made her sound like a vampire, could it
be that she really does want to be one? He wondered that if she said no, should he do it anyway?
In all reality he had the power to make the decision for her, yet would her love for him allow
forgiveness for murder? Not murder, liberation. After all, they would always be together and
that is what they both wanted. Still though, something bothered Jonas, but he could not put his
finger on it. For so long he had walked alone and now there was someone who loved him for the
man that he was. With her he didn't have to hide what he was or what he could do. It was then
at that moment, as the sun was rising, he decided that he would ask her to marry him in an
eternal sense. Before drifting off to sleep in his own piece of reality, his mind formed one last
thought, I love you Maddy and soon we will have forever, and for the first time in decades he
dreamed...
Her first feeling she felt in the safety of her own home was outrage. How dare he... in
Waffle House for God's sake! She fumed, pacing around the tiny chamber that served as a living
room. It had been so great, perfect, in fact, until he had to destroy her romantic love affair. She
had been so happy with her illusions. She had not been ready to give up her perfect stranger with
the mysterious past. He should have waited until she was ready... And, as if that was not enough,
he insulted her. He said she should become a vampire. Suggested that secretly she had always
wanted to be a vampire. He had actually offered to give her the Dark Gift personally. Then he
said he loved her, and that was what was truly unfair.
It was true. He said he loved her. Her memory held that evening with perfect clarity,
and the words were there in bold print, like a cheap literary device. It was those words that held
her and drained the anger from her body as she eased back onto the couch with her feet hanging
off the end. In a way, he had just proposed to her.
Take it, Maddy, you may not get another one, said the cynical voice in Maddy's head.
Other voices told her how special his offer really was. He wanted to spend an eternity with her.
Mortal marriage promised forever, but Madeliene's own parents proved that even 'Til death do us
part' was not really binding. No, Jonas' offer extended past death and on, never ending.
The thought should have been wonderful, spending forever with the man she loved.
Instead, it frightened her. Lying on the sofa, she began to shiver, not tiny shivers that make you
quiver like a frightened rabbit but big ass shivers that run slowly from your head to your toes and
back again, wrenching and contorting internal organs, leaving the body behind like a storm-
blasted tree.
The image of Maddy as an old gray lady danced in front of Jonas' minds' eye only to be
forced from the floor by the image of the young vibrant woman he knew now. Blood trickled
from the corner of her mouth, small drops, almost teasing Jonas. He found that image exciting.
He wished that he could feel the warmth of her humanity embracing him. He wanted desperately
to look into her eyes and to see that flame that set the two apart. The image in his mind drew his
attention again, this time she was different. The trickle of blood had grown to cover the lower
part of her face. The image moved closer and he saw how pale she was, the lack of color
frightened him until he caught a glimpse of his own hand just as pale. Still she danced. Jonas
called her name, but she did not respond. He reached out to stop her dance and he caught her
chin in his hands. She only smiled at him her fangs taking the prominent position. Her face was
cold and her eyes were as two lumps of coal. Jonas felt his heart freeze as he looked into those
black eyes. Not since the day he had been turned had he been this frightened. He closed his eyes
and when they opened he saw the face in his hands was his own...
Jonas found himself, as he climbed through Maddy's window, wishing that she had put
curtains on her window. It was silly, he knew, but the image could have been so romantic. He
would have been a dark silhouette against the light from the window and the curtains would have
moved in the breeze that touched his cheek, framing the image. As it was, he stumbled through
her naked window like a common thief.
It seemed that he was not the only one who desired to set the scene. Maddy wore make-
up, something she had not done since the first night they met. It was only a little blush to
heighten her cheekbones and a little lipstick to add fullness to her lips, but he noticed and ached
to know what it meant. She smiled at him. A smile that came no where near her eyes.
He moved towards her, not as quickly as he liked. He had to step carefully through the
crowded one-room apartment as his love was not a very good housekeeper. Finally, he reached
her sitting on the couch having waited without moving since he had tapped the windowpane. On
the way over, he had decided that her reluctance had been at his proposal at an inappropriate time
and place. This time he would do it right. He knelt before her, holding her hand to his heart. He
was sure she could feel it beating painfully against his ribcage.
"Maddy, my love, will you spend an eternity as my life and love."
"Jonas, I... love you, and I always will, but I can't become what you are, and you can't
become what I am."
He gathered her in his arms, for she seemed to want him to. They sat on the floor, her
head on his shoulder and his hand in her hair. The dream flashed before him and he knew what
had bothered him the morning before. He loved her with all of his being, but it was her
humanity that he loved the most. It was his humanity that he missed the most. It was while she
spoke that he realized what he would be taking from her, and himself.
He was not the same as he was before and she would not be the same after. He knew
that they would be forever separated by their own love for each other. They both knew that the
moment he had made the choice to take her he had crossed the line. In a way he had been
unfaithful to her by planning to change her. They broke the embrace and he moved slowly to the
window.
"You could use the door," Maddy said as she wiped a tear from her eyes. Her voice
wavered as she spoke.
"If I used the door then I would have to say good-bye," Jonas said with his back to her,
"this way it's more like I wasn't here." He stopped at the window and turned around. He saw
what looked like a trickle of blood falling down her cheek, he started to say something about it
and then he felt the wetness in his eyes. As he moved out the window he remembered that as a
vampire his tears were made of his own blood. He glanced back once more at the reminder of
their differences on her cheek and then he was gone.
The lead singer played his acoustic guitar like it was an electric one and moved in the
stage lights like he had Tourette's Syndrome. Simon's fingers glided over the sound board
shaping the band's sound, balancing voices and instruments into harmony. He remembered the
sound check when the lead singer had seemed so quiet and shy. Simon had had to raise his
vocals to the maximum just so he could be heard. Now Simon had to pull him back and feed
more into the monitor so he could hear himself and know that he didn't need to strain, but he
wasn't straining. He was absorbing the energy of the crowd. Several young girls rose from their
seats and began to dance to the music. Simon watched the lead singer in admiration. When the
lights had lowered and the hands started clapping, his transformation from shy young man to
rock star was complete. The youth was doing something that Simon could not. A vampire can
never forget what he is.
Jonas was sitting on his own balcony. He closed the book and looked at his copy of
Maddy's novel without seeing it. It had seen some heavy use. Its paper jacket was long gone,
and the corners of several pages were missing. His long familiarity with the book had enabled
him to thumb quickly through the pages to that passage. With Maddy, it seemed he had proven it
wrong. For a time, he had forgotten his nature, but his self-deception had been less substantial
than that singer's cheap theatrics. He was a vampire. Vampires were alone. Jonas headed back
inside to settle himself in preparation for morning. It was an hour before dawn.