}); The Vampire Chad (Part 15) – Blinds-Eye View

The Vampire Chad (Part 15)

The casket was sitting on top of a larger stone coffin in the middle of what appeared to be a family or church crypt.  A very out of place location for a modern casket.  A few other stone coffins were set into the floor of the crypt such as this one under the casket, and there were several stone compartments housing graves on 3 of the 4 crypt walls.  The 4th was dedicated to several plaques, with an upward stone stairway in the center.  It was time for a little more enlightenment as to where I was.  I swung my sexy female legs out of the coffin, bringing myself to a sitting position on the side of it.

        I jumped down the few feet from the top of casket down to the floor and instantly regretted it.  I may be able to control a woman’s body with minimal effort, but 4” high heels were another matter.  I went wobbled forward, out of control, lost my footing and went down on my knees and hands.  So much for all that vampiric dexterity, you’ve heard so much about, huh?  Paul Monari, bloodthirsty killer of murders and rapists taken out by a pair of Valentino heels.  A part of this story I planned to omit if and when I was able to talk to Chrystal again.

        Pulling myself to my feet and attempting a few strides hither and dither, I ripped off the shoes and threw them into the coffin.  Why a woman would put such a torture device on her dainty feet, just to gain some height and posture, was a total mystery to me.  I should make murderers and rapist where a pair of those horrid things for a week rather than kill them.  It would make for a much crueler fate.  I padded towards the stairs in my bare feet, the satin dress I was wearing swish swish swishing with every stride.  I felt so pretty.

        As I was approaching the stairs, my eyes set upon a plaque at the left side of the wall identifying the crypt.  It read,

                 Leonard C. Wilson Mausoleum

                 Est. 1859

                 Glasgow Necropolis

                 Glasgow City Centre

                 G4 OUZ

        Ah ha, so one of my theories was right, we were across the sea, Glasgow, Scotland to be exact.  Which would explain why two brains weren’t occupying this sexy body at the same time.  One of them was asleep.  Being a vampire too, I wasn’t quite sure why I wasn’t unconscious as well if the sun was up, but I wasn’t in the mood for vampiric physics right now.  I had to figure out what time it was outside of this crypt.  Laughing to myself, I looked around for a wall clock.  Not surprised, given my current venue, there weren’t any.

        It was times like these when I was in a sexy vampire babe’s body, underneath a cemetery in Scotland wondering how soon it was to sunset that I really wished I’d paid more attention to my geography teacher in high school.  I’m sure Miss Adams knew the time difference between Pittsburgh, PA, and Glasgow, Scotland.  And being that it was 1988, ten years before the birth of Google, I couldn’t just look it up.  Oh, and the World Wide Web wouldn’t be a thing for another year yet.  And they didn’t tend to install wi-fi in Scottish mausoleums.  We were truly living in the dark ages people.

        Okay, time to do some creative math/geography of my own.  The time difference from one side of the United States to the other was only 3 hours, it being 3 hours earlier on the east coast than the west.  The distance from the east coast of the United States was obviously farther than that to Scotland.  Maybe double the distance, or a little shorter or farther than that.  So even guessing it was twice the distance, you’re talking about a 6-hour difference from here to there. Phew!

        So, if it was 6 hours later here then it was there, and I blipped out of my body back home somewhere around 2:00 am, that would make it somewhere around 8:00 a.m. here.  Just after freaking sunrise.  Hmph!  I was stuck down here all day.  Now, what was I suppose to do till dusk?  (For those of you who actually know, or did Google it, the actual difference in time is 5 hours between Glasgow an Pittsburgh.  All day is all day at this point though) With nothing better to do in the next several hours, I crawled back up into the comfy coffin and laid down in frustration.

And I awoke to the sight of my fangs and two fingers inserted into a very cold, very stiff hooker.  As a vampire new to the darkfold, I still held the fear and revulsion which mortals feel towards the dead.  I flew out of that bed at the speed of lightning and ran to the bathroom to wash my hands and rinse out my mouth.  Purely disgusting!  Checking the time, the bedroom clock said it was 7:30 pm.  Okay, so obviously at some point I had fallen asleep over in Scotland, and teleported back to my own body?  Or maybe at sunrise here, my mind instinctively traveled home?  Ugh…more questions with no answers!

Plain and simple, it was 7:30 pm here, which made it around 1:30 pm there.  This meant if Chrystal’s mind was active and where it belonged, she should have been awake for several hours.  I wonder if she was surprised to find the top of her casket busted open?  I wondered if she had managed to escape the crypt as well?  But what if her captor had returned?  Waving all the “what ifs” away in frustration, I planned my next move.  I had to make my way to Glasgow, Scotland!

Unfortunately, after doing some checking, I discovered that I would be in for a 12- hour flight across the Atlantic.  As my preternatural body required a strict 12-hour awake/12 hour asleep regiment, this was going to be very tricky.  This is when I truly wished vampires could transform into bats.

Lacking Chrystal’s experience and connections, it took me awhile, but I was able to arrange for the delivery of a large crate to the Pittsburgh International Airport.  From there, the crate would be transferred at two separate layover locations before arriving at the Glasgow International Airport.  Finally, from there, the crate would be transported to a hotel room at the Hilton Glasgow awaiting the arrival of hotel guest, Mr. Paul Monari.

It was quite the gamble, especially with the two layovers, but that was the fast and most direct way I would be able to get there.  Glasgow, Scotland is not a daily direct location for Pittsburgh International flights.  What if the crate missed one of its transfers?  What if it was shipped to the wrong country or location?  What if they dropped the crate and it busted open?  I imagine there would be some baggage handlers who would need their pants changed if the last one happened.  Hopefully, I would be awake at the time to catch the show.

Like I said though, this was my only option.  I crated myself up just before dawn on the day of the flight, having procured the services of Tas Vandlo to nail the crate closed.  He thought I was on a fool’s quest of course but wisely didn’t push the matter far.  My mind was set, I was saving Chrystal.  So he nailed me in and left my fate to the professionalism and effectiveness of two delivery trucks and three flights.  Thankfully, I would be spending the first leg of the journey unconscious and unable to chicken out.

I awoke that evening to coldness and the unmistakable drowning sound of jetliner engines.  Well, that meant I’d most likely made it to the second flight of my 12-hour international trip.  By my watch, we had just left Boston about an hour before I awoke and would be arriving in Dublin, Ireland around 5:30 in the morning.  A couple hours of wakefulness left there, and then I’d be snoozing away once again for my last flight from Dublin to Glasgow, as well as during the delivery truck trip to the hotel shortly after 8:05 a.m…  I’d sleep the day away in my hotel room, still boxed up in my crate until the evening hours.  A whole day wasted, but unavoidable.

I spent my waking hours of the long night’s flight listening to the loud hum of the twin engines.  There wasn’t much else for me to do.  There’s was no in-flight movie in the cargo bay of the airliner, and the stewardesses never asked me once if I needed a comfy pillow or refreshing drink.  See if I ever flew the friendly skies with them again.  Hmph!  Finally, morning came again, and I was out for the remainder of my journey.

I awoke to virtual silence.  A good start.  That at least meant that I was at least back on the ground, obviously in a quiet and currently deserted location.  Stretching out my preternatural senses, I detected no life in my immediate location.  That was good enough.  Time to blow this popsicle stand!  With a few hard placed blows, I forced the one corner of the crate open enough to see out.  Viewing the hotel room around me, I grinned and forced another corner of the crate open so I could climb out.

Looking around, I noticed the typical hotel literature on the bedside table and looked at it.  Yes!  I was in the Hilton Glasgow!  I’d made it the whole way here with no hiccups in the plan.  Yes!  I felt like celebrating, and I was hungry.  Resisting the urge to page room service, as I hadn’t fed in the past 48 hours, I went down to the hotel lobby to check myself in and inquire about crime in the city and places I should “avoid.”  The staff was very helpful.

On the way to dinner, I stopped and picked up the car I had rented from a local dealer.  After a little fast food in one of the more crime-ridden portions of the city (You’d be surprised how high the crime rate actually is in the city of Glasgow, Scotland) it was time to head for the Glasgow Necropolis.  Yes, there was no guarantee that Chrystal was still there, especially if she awoke before her captor returned.  Being that I had freed her from the casket, she could be anywhere now.  Still, it was the best place to start looking.  Wouldn’t it just be a kick in the nuts if she had escaped and was making her own way back home at the moment?  That would just my luck.

I arrived at the Glasgow Necropolis in short order and began my search for the Leonard C. Wilson Mausoleum.  It took a while, as the cemetery was massive.  From the literature I’d found on the place, it housed over 50,000 graves, several of them unmarked as the Necropolis had been here since the 1830’s.  Luckily though, I was looking for a crypt, not a grave, or it might have taken me forever.

Finally, I located it.  It was definitely one of the older large structures on the premises.  The Necropolis originated somewhere back in the 1830’s, and I recalled the plaque inside dated at 1859 for the mausoleum.  My memory served me right, as I found the same plaque on the outside.  This was the Leonard C Wilson Mausoleum.  Now to cross my fingers and go inside.  I tried pulling on the crypt’s door, finding it locked as I suspected.  I’d come ready and expecting such an obstacle though.  My crowbar and vampire strength made short work of the door’s lock.  It snapped like a twig.

Keeping the crowbar at the ready, I entered the tomb and made my way down the stone steps.  The place was just as I remembered it from the other day, the only difference being the moonlight which streamed in behind me.  And the awkwardly placed casket atop the stone coffin was there too, closed and reinforced with new locks and reinforced bands of steel.  My heart soared!  Why go through the trouble of newly securing the casket unless Crystal was inside again?  There was one way to confirm this.

Utilizing the crowbar again, I snapped lock after lock, then flung the lid open.  There she laid, that gorgeous vampiric woman that I loved, dressed in the same sexy dress I’d been wearing a few days ago, with those damnable heels back on her feet.  I almost chuckled, looking at those heels, but caught myself when it hit me.  Why wasn’t she greeting me with the thankful smile I was expecting?  Why wasn’t she sitting up to greet me in some fashion?  Why were her eyes still closed?  Was she sleeping?  Oh, no…was she…

I immediately checked for a pulse.  Yes, we vampires still maintain a pulse.  How else would the lifeblood of mortals travel through our bodies and sustain us?  I felt no movement under my fingers; None at all.  She had no pulse!  I was obviously too late in getting here.  Looking at her poor lifeless body, I should have realized it.  It was even more porcelain white as usual.

She had been totally drained by the monster who had captured her.  A monster that I was going to rip into a hundred pieces when I found them.  And if they were a vampire and grew their limbs and body parts back, I would do it again, and again; Torturing them for all eternity!  Destroying their brain and heart with flame, condemning them to forever death would be too slight a punishment for them.

Wait…the brain and the heart?  I immediately turned Chrystal’s head back and forth, inspecting it, then ripped open the front of her dress.  There were no visible wounds or burn marks.  Her brain and heart were intact.  This meant she wasn’t dead.  Ecstatic, I searched for a pulse again. There was nothing.  I gave it a little more time.  Still nothing.  I stared down at her, perplexed.  And then, there it was, the weakest of movements underneath my finger; On solitary weak beat.  And then, almost a minute later, another, and another.  She had a pulse, but it was damn near nonexistent.  I knew what I had to do.

Biting into my own wrist, I severed a major vein there, squeezed it to get it really flowing, opened her mouth and put my bleeding wrist against her parted lips.  The blood dripped into her mouth.  Again, there wasn’t an immediate reaction.  I stood there, bleeding into her mouth for a few minutes with no reaction.  I stood there, pondering what else I could try when I finally felt a pressure pull on my hand.  She was beginning to suck the blood from me.

Slowly, the suckling intensified until she was pulling the blood from me.  Her eyes popped open, and she bit down on my hand to make the flow come faster.  Her hands shot up and grabbed mine, refusing to give it back.  I began to feel my own body swoon from the blood loss, but I continued to let her feed.  Finally, in a purely instinctual need to survive, I tore my hand from her grasp and bolted a yard or so away; Much like she had to when I’d first fed from her months ago.  It was simply an inbred act of self-preservation.

Just as fast as I had escaped her clutch though, she was up out of the coffin and pursuing me.  It took my slapping her soundly across the face when she approached me and yelling her name to break her out of the feral frenzy.  As the wild look in her eyes faded to one of gratitude and adoration, she wrapped her arms around me and began crying.  It was one of most emotional moments the two of us had ever shared.  Regardless, I couldn’t help feeling a slight pang of jealousy at how gracefully she had taken after me coming out of that coffin.  Women and those damn heels!  How do they do it?

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