Cold slender hands worked the dough into thin discs on a wooden board.
Like this?"
A woman crossed the room silently and took a look, "That'll work. Thanks for helping me with this, Ash."
"Hey, I'm happy to. Then just plop a spoonful in each?"
She laughed, "I can't believe in 100 years, you've never had anko before."
He gave her a look.
"Don't hate," she teased.
After stuffing more soft balls with bean paste than he could ever imagine, batch by batch they were loaded into a steamer. She dusted off her hands and approached Maddox from behind, untying a gingham apron that protected his black garb from the dangers of sugar and flour. She lifted it over his head and hung it on the wall.
"Tea?"
He smiled. She was always like this. Hospitable, kind, an understanding and familiar relic. Even her kitchen still contained remnants of its vintage mid-century origins, though the appliances were state of the art and immaculately clean.
"I'll clean that all up later. I'll meet you on the patio." She gently shoved him outside. He ventured out, peering around. The landscaping was as immaculate as the kitchen. Despite the darkness, he could see it in stark clarity-- every closed bud, every dew-covered leaf, every stomata breathing out a long sigh of the day. He listened as she put the kettle on and predicted he had about 5 minutes of solitude, which translated to either an eternity or nothing in vampire time; inconsequential in context of an immortal’s lifetime, but more than enough time to kill an entire squadron of--
"Ash, do you still drink AB?"
"I'm flexible."
"I'm feeling AB."
She left in a flurry as the screen door bounced closed.
Maddox stepped onto the path leading into the garden and walked beneath canopies of rich climbing vines forming tunnels under trestles and archways. The paths were marked by their attention to light, with placement of shade plants and sun lovers arranged in a fashion they were visible from the trails. He wended his way past a small pond full of sleeping koi and a green garden bench dusted with leaves. He heard the kettle begin to whistle.
In an instant he was back on the patio as Chiyo Takahashi stepped out with a tray. The smell of warm blood hit him immediately, sending electricity up his spine. She set it down and poured him a cup. His teeth hurt, his chest was tight, every muscle felt like it was tensing at the same time. He wanted it, all of it now, he wanted to drown in it. He’d kill the other, even on her territory, it was worth it, even if they came for him, it was worth the risk.
A calm sensation floated through him. Take it slow, let it last, savor it.
I know.
He took a careful sip from the teacup as she smiled and leaned back in her rocking chair, “Are you going to come with me to the orphanage?” she asked verbally, “The kids are so sweet, and they really love visits like this. I’m sure they’d be excited to see me with a man.” She smiled at him.
“Are they so invested?” he smirked back, ignoring the romantic implication of her statement.
“Some of those kids have been there for years, Ashley, and hardly any of them have experienced real holidays. They can’t go trick or treating, not safely anyway, so it’s the least I can do.”
“You’re a better person than I, Chi,” he kept watching the garden.
“That’s not true. You’re a cop, you help people. Or at least, you help bring justice to the ones left behind. That still counts.”
“It’s a convenient profession for someone with my skill set and desensitized to human horrors.”
She paused and then took a deep breath, pursing her lips dramatically, “With all due respect, *sir*, you have no excuse for being insecure at this age.”
He bristled a little, but she was right, “You know, I was insecure before I was turned, then I was insecure how I was turned, and now I’m insecure because I was turned, so leave me to my own personal hell and I’ll leave you to your gardening and … delicious, delicious tea,” he smiled microscopically at his sarcasm, “But seriously, no one knows how to make tea like you. Though there is a tea shop in Paragon I should take you to sometime.”
“Tea in exchange for orphan children?”
He looked at her deadpan.
“Okay, that came out a lot worse than how I meant it,” she laughed.
Maddox’s mind wandered. Chiyo was one of the only people from his past he still had contact with. Mortals had mostly died off, vampires of different covens and bloodlines tended to avoid each other, and he had no bloodline — well, other than Chiyo. Chiyo was one of his, though he didn’t know it until years later. In fact, he didn’t even know how many childer took part in siring in The Facility. Their bond was cut at its nascence, just as his was from his own creator. Running into Chiyo at a night club in 1980 marked a turning point in his unlife.
His life had been ordinary until World War II, where an injury in the Pacific theatre landed him on a transport to an undisclosed hospital to supposedly save his life. It was not, in fact, a hospital, but rather The Facility as it was called, far out in the deserts of California. The location was strategic, considering a large portion of the experiments were vampires--security was only really needed after dark. He was turned there, by occult-obsessed scientists that rivaled Hitler’s own, seeking to understand the secrets of death, immortality, and black magicks. Maddox was just one more subject in a series of broad ranging experiments to breed new lines of vampires for study. Their mixed-breed creations were abominations to the few remaining Houses of vampires that still existed in the US, and it was when one of these Houses raided the Facility and destroyed most of the creatures inside that allowed him his opportunity to escape.
The following years were a blood-frenzied blur. He’d been starved intentionally to test the theories of how to induce a Berserker state, and that he was. As war brewed again in Asia, in some strange form of self inflicted retribution, Maddox traveled to Vietnam, where his movements would be masked by the curtain of death that covered the area. That is, of course, when he met Redd.
Redd was the start of the change. Finding someone who understood him, and beyond that, could stop him in his tracks, someone rivalling in strength and ferocity. Vietnam was a hellish paradise. Somehow between the rain and the blood and the endless chatter of distant gunfire, he found some peace.
But it wasn’t until a Boston nightclub in 1980 did he turn his fate around. Chiyo was there, and she was psychic in the same way he was. Their minds touched instantly — his with the intent on finding his next victim, hers to find a partner. Despite the flashing lights and pounding rhythm, the two had a conversation from across the room in seconds. Chiyo was his childe. Another abomination that had escaped that night, one who shared some his curse’s code. She was, like him, a hybrid, and the shared blood between them was palpable.
She explained how she no longer killed humans, how she had made friends with hospital workers. She volunteered with children. They strolled all night as she told her story: she had been pregnant when they turned her, hoping to have some effect on the child. It only resulted in it’s immediate loss, but the vampire they created was left with an amplified maternal drive. She didn’t have a bone in her body that could take a life. To this day, the only lives she’d taken, were those of the doctors who turned her and murdered her unborn child.
After that, they’d maintained distant relations. Vampires instinctively tended to avoid each other unless bonded, but he made it a point to visit around holidays — holidays were her favorite times.
You’re reminiscing again… Her voice broke through his reverie like an ice pick into a frozen lake, “Why do you still linger?”
“No offense, Chi, but you had it easier than I did. I still kill people.”
“Criminals.”
“Sure, but that’s not the law. I’m an officer of the law. I should be able to uphold it.”
“You’re also a predator fighting his own instincts,” she rubbed his arm caringly, “Give yourself some slack. How long are you up to now?”
He took a deep artificial breath, “Eight seconds.”
“Your goal was 10 by 2001 wasn’t it? You made it to 5 by 2000, so just squeak out 2 more seconds in the next month or so and you’re golden.”
“Your optimism is astonishing.”
“Maybe you should try it sometime.”
The steamer timer started beeping, and in a flash they had both relocated to the kitchen.
“Alright, this is the fun part. Once they cool we can package them up in these gift baskets. I have other treats for them in those bags over there” She threw the next set of Manju in the steamer, then pulled out a chair and sat down with the gift baskets, “Have a seat.”
Maddox sat beside her. Chiyo grabbed some colorful paper and ribbon, and began to decorate the boxes of treats. She wrapped one up in orange and drew on black triangle eyes like a jack-o-lantern. Following her lead, he picked up scissors and paper and began cutting.
“So, Chi, what should I be for Halloween?”
“You? Dress up?”
“I know—”
“Sherlock Holmes.”
“I—” he stopped, “You know that’s not a bad idea. I’ve been trying to think of something for days.”
“Should have just asked me!” she shouldered him slightly.
Another hour passed and all of the Halloween gift baskets were ready to go to the orphanage, Maddox started to feel the growing discomfort of togetherness build between them, his instincts manifesting to get out of another vampire’s space.
“Thanks for the tea, Chi. Next time it’s on me. Come visit me in Paragon.”
“Will the dog be there?”
“Redd?”
She nodded with a grimace.
“Probably,” he said flatly.
“Maybe some other time then,” she glided over and bent slightly to give him a peck on the cheek. She was a tall woman already, but she was never caught without her heels on either, so all in all, she often towered over Maddox. He nodded in return and gently touched her shoulder. It was a strange interaction. Though the sire bond had been cut, there was almost a phantom limb-like remnant that lingered, and the offering of a touch to her was powerful. Her reaction would be imperceptible to a human, but the electricity between their minds told the story. It was acceptance, gratitude, and a form of love. It lasted all of a second, but felt like forever.
“I’ll let you know when he’s out of town then,” he said finally.
She smiled and opened the door, “Goodnight, Ash,” she waved goodbye. He tipped his hat, and vanished into shadow.
Back in the city, Maddox turned a corner and slowed to a human pace under a streetlamp. It would be dawn soon and he debated going to the wharf to catch a little of it. That’s when he heard a noise behind him. He moved swiftly to another corner without thinking, but the noise was there again. Then a scent. Acrid, metallic, but an undeniable floral note. Metal and flowers were usually signals of another vampire, but this was a little different. He tried to figure it, carefully following the scent. His curse had left him with a keen sense of smell, but for most things, the scent did not resemble the object anymore. A candle might smell like burned rubber and a grease fire. Superadine was easy to detect, he remembers the scent like Pinesol. Most everything smelled unpleasant to some degree, save for one: fresh blood. That was the one good smell, the kind of scent that makes your mouth water copiously, that makes you want to stuff your whole face in it; that plus the promise of a high no human drug could ever accomplish. Was it any surprise impulse control was not a skill common among vampires?
But this scent was different. It was a bastardization of human, sprinkled with human zest. It was dark, bitter, with rose-like high notes. It resembled ballet and a brutal domestic stabbing with a kitchen knife. He turned the corner again, but the source could not be found. He followed its ephemeral trail for the remaining hour before the sun began to break over the ocean.
Fuck. He thought as he stopped in an alleyway out of the dawn light. He’d traveled in the sunshine plenty of times, his job often called for it, but it didn’t make it any less unpleasant. He’d have to give up the search for now. He looked at the streets, already becoming more autumnal as leaves began to fall from the trees. A cool wind whipped off the sea. Store windows were plastered with Halloween themed stickers and décor. He stopped at one, and gazed eye to eye with a large sticker of a cartoon vampire half-hiding behind a cloak.
Gettin’ cold out already! Maybe I should set the cider up inside…
Maddox turned, catching the thoughts of a human approaching.
“Oh hello, sir! Come back in an hour, we’ll be open then!” a middle aged woman with a sun-worn face smiled and unlocked the shop door.
Maddox headed back down the street, walking as humanly swiftly as he could so as not to raise alarm. But instead of heading home, he turned at the intersection that took him to a grocery store. The truth is, he’d not bought groceries for himself in years, but this was a special occasion. He pulled out a folded piece of paper listing various confectionery ingredients.
“Optimism, eh?” he laughed to himself, “‘Try it sometime.’ Alright, Chi.”