I chose violence.

I really had no choice. I was born with this ability to say fuck you on a basic instinctual level. If you give me an ultimatum my first response is always ‘fuck you’. In this case, if I wanted to keep digging into this rabbit hole of vampire wonderland, I was going to have to choose one, so I chose the one that was the worst possible outcome. I’m sure a few of you will disagree once my full story comes out, but that might not happen so I’m good with this as it stands.

I had no idea what was at the address on the scrap of paper that Isabelle had handed me. I knew the area. Twenty First and vine. Not where I really wanted to be at this point in my life, but you got to do what you got to do. Sparsely populated run down areas in the middle of the night are great places to hang out.

Lucy was at her car when I got into the parking garage. She was leaning against it waiting for me, her hair had been straightened and hung parted in the middle. The red of it bouncing against the black leather corset that pushed her breast up for the world to see. It had been sunny lately, hot and sunny. I guess dressing goth was cross weather enough for her clothing.

“Hey” I said. We hadn’t spoken since Isabelle gave me the ultimatum.

“Violence it is then?” She said.

“yep, you with me?”

“Always!” She said with her traditional large smile. She kicked her leg off the car in an extreme motion and flipped the door open. “I’m driving.”

When we got in the car she held up a cd. “I made a new vampire mix since you said my last one was boring.”

“I never said that.”

She made her voice a bit deeper to imitate me in a joking way, “Rather boring stuff for an hour drive but I stuck it out”.

“shit”

“shit yeah” she said as we pulled out onto the street.

This mix opened up with the same song but quickly turned a corner. We had just got on the main through road when the second song kicked on. The Toadies, “Possum Kingdom”.

“You know this song has nothing to do with vampires don’t you?” I asked.

“Yes your highness but it has everything to do with you, I checked your CD collection. Besides everyone in the world thinks it’s a vampire song.”

Holy fuck, it was like someone slapped me and my whole body tensed up. I wasn’t mad that she went through my things. I’m an open book to those who actually know me. They can read my future on how my pubes lay in my underwear for all I care. I was mad because I just then connected the address on the letter.

The Kansas City Workhouse Castle is another one of those places that has become more loved on by the populace in recent years. A couple years back a couple cleaned it up and had their wedding there, and I saw some video of photographers doing a photo shoot there. For most of my life it was nothing more than a few walls with rubbish and trees growing out of it. A place for hookers and junkies to score and shoot with walls for people to hide behind. It was too far away from where I grew up to go there often but we did manage to make the trip once. I wasn’t a whore but at the time I sure was on my way to being a junkie.

Henry, Jennifer, Tommy and I were stoned before we even arrived. I don’t recall much about the insides of the place except some crap tagging on the walls, needles, cans, and the place I pissed at, which looked like it might of at one time been a closet or small room. It had just become a low wall on one side and part of the outside wall on the other. While I was squatting there I could see through the wall (or in hindsight maybe it was a small window.. I was stoned.. fuck off).

Across the street from the castle are a row of buildings that look to be about the same age. I’m not sure what they are for. They are pretty distant, but sitting there I could see someone watching us. Not moving. Just staring. I pulled up my jeans and told the others. They laughed in the way that stoned kids do when they should be scared and took a look. They couldn’t see him. I could. My panic and paranoia ‘brought them down’ so we left. That Toadies song was on the radio on the way back. Henry teased the shit out of me about my ‘seeing a vampire’ because of that song. He even wrote a crappy poem about it and to this day it is in the CD that Lucy snooped on. I never said it was a vampire, just some creepy dude.

I told Lucy this story as we drove. She almost stopped the car. “You know we shouldn’t go there right?” She said when I made her keep going.

“I know why a sane person shouldn’t go there, but I’m not sane, and I have a job to do.”

“You are sane, sanest person I know so shut up, and I bet your job doesn’t include you getting year head chewed off.”

“Nope, not in my contract, but I can’t run away from every scary vampire or there would be no possibility of there ever being a ‘vampire journal’ “. (by the way Isabelle, I still hate the name).

She looked at me out the corner of her eye. They do this slight wrinkle almost not noticeable closing thing, like she doesn’t really know what to make of me, or maybe she is worried. “Maybe you are crazy.”

“Why are you so scared? You were not bothered by our last trip.”

“The person in your story would have to be very old or very powerful to make people not see them from that distance. I always got the impression that our powers were more like souls speaking to each other, but from that distance it’s like they have to shout. It creeps me out just thinking about the amount of power they would have to have.”

That is when we turned the corner onto Vine, and pulled up to the building. A girl dressed as a hot goth goddess, and whatever I am in a beat up car in front of the ruin of a jail workhouse in a neighborhood that is not overly socially accepting of people with fairer skin.

It was the start to an interesting night.

I’m being told I have to rest, that I can continue writing this tomorrow. I’ll do that. It’s been a long couple of days.

My mother left me a stack of old vinyl when she died. Most of that stack was an artist who died in a car accident when I was three or four. Harry Chapin was his name. The number of songs that reside on those old records that resonate within my soul is astounding. They remind me of my mother, and place her in a good light in my mind (which is hard), but they also seem to tap into parts of me that otherwise wouldn’t be evoked.

All of them can bring me to tears, both happy and sad tears, often at the same time. Harry was a masterful storyteller. Knowing that my mother could feel and see that, makes me wish I would of spent a moment or two of my time with her talking about things that matter before she passed. Last night, I listened to a great many of those albums but the song that stuck out the most was Mr. Tanner.

Maybe it was how my mother brought me up. Always letting me know in a passive aggressive way that I’d never be good enough, or that whatever skills I had were nothing compared to everyone else. That song reminds me of something that I can’t remember but by the end gives me hope. Gives me the hope that maybe my mother was wrong about me. Like the critics are wrong about Mr. Tanner. Well not wrong, but not understanding the context of his beauty.

All of that I bring up to point out that death changes how we feel about people. It puts a microscope on them but at the same time releases us from social pressure. When she was alive I didn’t listen to Harry Chapin. It reminded me too much of late night vodka binges, divorces and bad breakups that left a child Alex angry, resentful, and generally pissed off (which still is what I am today if you haven’t noticed). After she was turned off, I think the records helped me deal with her, and understand her. I was free from my anger to know her. Free to see her as a person, not just a force of nature. To empathize about her.

Death did that.

If we lived forever would we ever free ourselves to really know anyone? If my mother and I lived two hundred years would I still of felt that anger toward her, or would I of eventually let it go and became her drinking buddy?

Lucy says that her parents are still alive but she hasn’t seen them since a few years after her big change. I bet that is the case with most vampires. Like humans they are childlike in their disassociation of bad social environments. Running away or lashing out instead of dealing with them with compassion.

In a way Isabelle is Lucy’s new mother, but that same strain of ignorance about each other seems to be in their hearts. Lucy in her presence becomes a shell, ready to be whatever Isabelle commands, but after ward there is a hint of resentment. Isabelle on the other hand is nothing like my mother. My mother was loud and passive, Isabelle is quiet and violent. My mother would threaten and be active but never do anything. Isabelle just acts when it is time to bring things into her alignment.

In the middle of my reflection Isabelle finally came to visit. Lucy was out doing her thing. Isabelle didn’t knock on the door, she just appeared beside me. Standing, she seems to never want to sit.

“The last time someone knocked on your door Alex they tried to kill you. Why would I want to frighten you?”

Good point, psychopath. Isabelle was getting thinner again. Her hat reminded me of the one Mrs Kennedy wore in Dallas, but it wasn’t pink, it was red. Death. Always death with these people, and honestly with me also.

“You’ve been gone awhile.” I stated

She just stared at me, as if waiting for me to get to the point of that obvious statement. I felt like a school child after the teacher became annoyed by her students, but all I said was one sentence. There is no denying it, Isabelle has a presence that commands rooms. I kept silent.

“I am checking in on you.” She said finally, but when I didn’t reply (mostly out of shock that she would care enough to just show up to check on me) she continued. “You said I am no where to be found. Now you can stop saying that.”

“and what else?”

“I am also here to inform you that your online presence is not growing fast enough. I find your initiative commendable, but you need to have a bigger following.”

“What would you suggest?”

“Violence and Sex, or either one, you decide”

Fucking vampires. Fucking humans for that matter. Two things that always get things going are violence or sex, but in the really real world violence is rare and I’m avoiding talking about sex because this blog is not just another vampire fan fiction about pseudo rapist and people wanting to be rescued from their mundane life. If you think I haven’t thought about writing about sex, you would be wrong.

“Any suggestions?”

“Fuck Lucy, or go to this address and interview the vampire you find there.” She hands me a piece of paper. Scrap paper from the looks of it, maybe a phone book. I didn’t realize they still made those. Then she does something even more shocking. She casually turns and walks out the front door as if she was any other person.

As I watched her walk out the door, Harry Chapin still playing in the background, I was struck by how much I miss my mother. Something I never did while she was alive.

This song is fitting since I’ve been spinning my tires for a bit, not sure what to do. It was time enough to get busy. Earlier this week Lucy and I decided we should actively start looking for Jesus again. We hadn’t heard from Isabelle and out of all the mysteries going on, that was the only one we had any leads on. Some of you might be asking yourself why I’d want to find a vampire that tried to life rape me twice because of his own ego problems. It’d be a valid question. I asked that myself and found that the answer was pretty simple. He might have answers. Plus I had Lucy at my back now. If he got all fang frisky again on me, she’d be there to help. Provided he wasn’t already checked out for good.

I’ve mentioned before a small group of what I like to term ‘rejects’ that I’ve bumped into a few times over the years because of knowing Jesus. These vampires were never welcoming to me since I never gave them anything they wanted. I know now that they never could force me, which probably shocked them all into spurning me (or so Lucy and I gather after debating it). Lucy thought it might be a good idea to start tracking them down and seeing if they knew anything about what happened to Jesus. I said maybe it’d be a good idea to interview them for the blog. We said why not.

We decided to start out easy by going to the only one that seemed not overly be hostile toward me when we had met. We’ll call him Walter. I’ve never seen the show Breaking Bad except for in little clips. The name might not be appropriate but fuck it I don’t have any other meth references off the top of my head.

When I met Walter, I was tagging along with Jesus as he retrieved one of his ‘followers’ from Walters apartment in Gladstone. I wasn’t told how this girl ended up in Gladstone in some run down apartment complex townhouse but looking back, I think Walter did a vampire style poaching on Jesus stock. Apparently it was all in good fun as the two were very friendly with each other over the thing.

From my loft it is only about ten or fifteen minutes by car to Gladstone depending which highway you take. Finding the apartment complex again was easy, and because I take notes, I had the townhouse number still.

When I think vampire house, I don’t think lower middle class/upper lower class thirty year old apartment complex. Sure I could think shit hole poor as the pits apartment complex, but not one that is trying so hard to maintain itself despite the march of time and the lack of people wanting to pay higher rents. This is the type of place that people trying to pull themselves out of the poorer areas live while giving themselves the illusion that things are getting better. That is what the recent paint job and the “ask us about move in specials” signs are doing also. Giving the illusion of being better than it is.

Walters townhouse was a three story affair that was loosely modeled on some American dream of what an English row house would look like, if those houses had small front yards and were across from a more traditional apartment structure. When we pulled up I noticed a Christmas wreath on the door. Lucy said, “you sure this is the right address, they decorated?”

“Pretty sure, it’s June, not December. Besides look the door is already open for us.”

A tall thin man had opened the door and was standing in the light of the house looking at us. How he stood, arms across his chest, let us know that he was indeed looking at us and inquiring silently ‘what you looking at?’.

We got out and went to the door.

“I’m looking for Walter, he in?” I said.

“you cops?” He said checking us out.

“nope”

“Come on in?” he waved us past him. He shut the door but didn’t lock it.

The place looked the same. Imagine your parents house with all their years of collecting whatever it is they collected. Furniture, dishes, precious moments statues. Then imagine as if twenty geeked out twenty year olds lived there for a few years without cleaning up or bothering to redecorate. I swear the floor crunched from broken pieces of little dolls with over sized eyes. The ripped up couch held one too many bodies who were all zoned out into some kinda race car video game. The kitchen beyond that was piled with trash. The whole place smelled of sweat and urine.

I pointed up the stairs and then down at the floor so that the guy that let us in could track what I was asking. He pointed up. Lucy and I went that direction. Upstairs housed two tiny bedrooms and a bathroom. It was a bit cleaner but not by much. The smell of urine went away at least. The doors to the rooms were open and I could see Walter and two girls sitting on what was probably once the master bedrooms sleeping furniture. A lined mirror between them. The girls looked like they hadn’t slept in days, most likely still in the cloths from whenever they started their run. Their skin was starting to pimple out from oil not being washed. They must of been fifteen or sixteen, but I could be wrong, my age detector is broken. Walter sat in a pair of dirty jeans, his tattooed arms and chest a stark contrast to the skin of the girls he was with.

He came up from in-taking a line of what was most likely meth and met my eyes. He smiled. “Alex, it’s great to see you! Come in come in, join us, and bring your friend?”

Lucy and I entered the room but didn’t hop at the invite to join them. “Hey, this is Lucy, we were wondering if you had seen Jesus around?”

He shrugged, “nope, he in trouble?”

“nope” I said back mimicking his tone. I’ve always hated that tone. Sure I say ‘nope’ like the best of them, but there is a way of saying it where your voice gets higher in the middle with a little flourish at the end, as if to say “no and I think you are ridiculous for asking”

The girls were looking at us like we are invaders. As if Walter belonged to them. Scratch that, as if Walters meth belonged to them. I almost dislike tweakers as much as I dislike vampires. That stuff turns you into a zombie while giving you the illusion of being acutely aware. So glad I don’t touch it anymore, although I think I’d do that whole mirror full just to piss off these girls. I dislike over protective anything.

“I have something else I need to talk to you about?”

“Shoot”

“Private stuff.” I make sure he sees my nodding at the girls. I make sure they see it also.

“Ha!” he burst out. “ask whatever, they’re cool.” I notice the bite marks on them after he says that. He doesn’t offer up any other comment, and once the girls have done some of what they are sharing they get to work shuffling playing cards.

“How does that work for you?” I point at the drugs. The sound of it going into his nose was somewhat less noisy than the girls had been.

“real good actually.”

“you don’t have to feed on someone who has done it?”

“nope, although I could if I wanted.”

Lucy said, “I bet he gets really thirsty after doing it. I bet he uses up too much energy awakening his body to accept it, isn’t that right Walter?”

“Yes it is, yes it is friend of Alex. Cards?”

Sure why the hell not we say and sit down at the end of the bed. Walter plays some jacked up non standard version of poker. I know enough about poker to lose all my money, but he isn’t playing for money. Not really playing for anything, he just keeps tabs of how many times each of us raises in his head. It is very odd. We played most the night as they got more spun and Lucy and I got more information. It was a rather odd drawn out interview punctuated by random tangents about social media, teenagers, the state of music, tie dye shirts, and whatever other random things Walter or the girls spurted out of their mind.

I’ve been working on getting the interview written up. It is hard to filter out what is needed on the site and what is just tweakbabble. Once I’m done I’ll post it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s0NcCZmojUM

I know I’m over doing this music in almost every post thing, but I am enjoying it. Music is a part of who I am and if you think it waters down my vampire fueled blog then suck it. Seriously, go suck it. I don’t say seriously as a space filler people, I mean it. Seriously.

Sometimes when I find my thoughts all jumbled up it helps if I sit down and start writing out what is going on. These thoughts are not often coherent but sometimes they lead me to better understanding. Let’s give that a go right here. Here is what we know:

1. Jesus is missing. No clue what happened. Not really sure how to find him.

2. The Blog is .. It just is. Not sure what the game is for Isabelle to support it after the Boss thing.

3. Lucy doesn’t know something she knows. Lucy likes sleeping in my closet, that might be the biggest mystery. Still for a vampire becoming my friend, well that is a miracle. I expect Jesus to return… wait… do I need to give God’s son a new name for this blog since I named another guy Jesus?

I think that Lucy was fed misinformation somehow. Maybe starting from the moment of her becoming a vampire. Unless Lucy herself is lying to me and I’m just a human dolt. Remember the long game.. what is twenty years to Isabelle.

4. Mystery Society. This letter under the door and my recent research on this mysterious mason like group has to be connected. I’m probably too close to this to see it. They collected blood, so you know, vampires, obviously.

With all that in mind, the only thing that doesn’t fit any type of theory is Jesus. You could argue that Isabelle brought me to the blog in order for me to interview Lucy, so that whatever information Lucy had could get out, bringing Boss or others like him out of the shadows, allowing Isabelle to do something about that. Knowing her, it was just to mark them off on a check list and then watch them. She likes to watch. Jesus could be counted as someone caught in the cross fire.. but I’m not sure. He was taken before all this started, a few days before the blog.

This Sanguine Society thing is a bit of a mystery. Don’t know how that all fits in but I have a feeling it does. All of what I have found on what I’m actually looking for could be just as valid or real as all the other internet references to Sanguine or Sanguine Society. I mean why couldn’t World of Warcraft Guilds, Pathfinder Roleplaying settings, Online roleplaying forums, or even articles on abortions be just as connected than the scraps of information I’ve been finding. Shows you how little I know after days of research. Lucy is no help either.

Then there is Suzanne. My savior this last month. Why does she bother? What is her deal? I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth but there is most likely something going on there.

I’ll probably be silent for a few days after this. Henry thinks now that I’m “clean” that we should go cause trouble. I’m down with that, although I think he might be wanting me to go find a new job.

One of the best things on Kansas City radio is Resurrection Sunday on 96.5 the Buzz. It used to be a lot better than it is now, but since Afentra went on cruise control with it, it isn’t bad. Yesterday they played Joy Division and it sent me on a big Joy Division listening binge. Hadn’t done that in years. Unknown Pleasures has to be one of the top albums of all time. Check out the first track here.

I had been in heavy reporter mode the last couple of days. The only time I wish I had vamp magic is in dealing with hours of operation. Seriously, governments and museums need to be twenty four hours. No wonder vampires are always ahead of people, they can do things after everyone else is gone to the bar. Spending all the time I could the last few days, doing research at the court house, the national archives and the public library, brought back exactly zero on this Sanguine Society. The place where the temple used to sit is completely gone. When they brought in the highway they dug deep into the earth. For anything to be under the highway the place would of had to have a bunker or mining operation going on.

I have no shame in what I do. I ask people at a normal talking voice blunt questions. In my opinion there is no reason to hide motives or be discreet about anything unless that something could lead to harm to someone who doesn’t deserve it. So when I’m at places doing research I tend to ask everyone I talk to if they have any information about what I’m researching. You’d be surprised on how many people know at least a little bit about what you are asking. In the case of this Sanguine Society almost no one knew anything.

Except this one old lady at the National Archive. I feel bad about calling out the man in Lexington by name. It was the first time I have done that in this blog, but I couldn’t really hide what was found on the film. From now on you should expect that I’m going to shake up facts a bit on you. Change gender, change location, change age, change whatever to throw you off of who I actually spoke to. I’m not doing this to discredit myself but to protect those who speak to me. I’m not sure if anything has happened or will happen to Mr Dearborne but I suspect something will.

Anyways, this old lady at the National Archive heard me asking about the Sanguine Society. She came over and was very generous with her thoughts on it. Turns out she didn’t know much but she remembers friends of friends being involved with it. She said they were like the Masons and the Red Cross rolled into one. Very public and open and did a lot of things to better the community. She remembered giving blood to them once, and thought that is how they got their name, their efforts to supply blood during World War Two and the years after that. When I pressed her for details she couldn’t give any, just these faded tidbits of memories.

Sounds like a vampire scheme to me. Now it is starting to come together a bit.

I finished off my night last night reading bits of reviews of the last Game of Thrones episode. I haven’t really watched in detail (just enough to be dangerous) but I love how the show tends to piss off all of its viewers. For some reason this love of people getting pissed off and then coming back to watch more makes me feel like I’m more perverse than when I hang out with vampires. Maybe I need a therapist.

On the bright side, I actually got a few hours of sleep last night!

The other night as I was finally deciding to go to sleep something very generic happened. An envelope was pushed under my door. Lucy and I just looked at it a bit puzzled for a minute before I got up to get it. I’m not sure I was puzzled because of all the wine I had drank while trying to get into Sense8 or because I was impressed by the shear movie like mimicry of the action. Before I touched it I opened the door to see if whoever dropped it was still there. Not surprising that no one was there. I shut the door and picked up the non standard mail. No ‘to or from’, just a generic white envelope. Not even sealed. Inside was a simple slip of paper with this printed on it: Lexington Missouri 12.8.1922

I got it, a location and date, too bad I can’t time travel. Too bad I don’t trust random letters being shoved under my door before the sun rises. So I went to bed.

I couldn’t sleep. I’m a curious person. After a couple of hours I got up, showered and got dressed. I ate breakfast while staring at the damn thing. Getting out the computer and searching proved useless also. Nothing came up with that date specifically, except some usual court cases, etc. Nothing that would seem to be overly important. I even pulled up the Library of Congress archive of newspapers. Lexington had a news paper on that day and it looked like this. Nothing special. I gave it a glance.

I was at a loss. I couldn’t sleep.

“fuck it” I said out loud and grabbed Lucy’s car keys.

Lexington Missouri turns out to be only an hour east of my house, which is good since I hate long drives by myself. To fill the time I listened to Lucy’s Vampire mix cd, which is actually mostly just Concrete Blondes “Bloodletting” with a few other items mixed in, like Annie Lennox’s “love song for a vampire”. Rather boring stuff for an hour drive but I stuck it out. Concrete Blonde’s songs seemed very much in theme when I pulled into town. Once you get past the run down more modern homes and sheet metal strip mall, the old downtown areas are kinda like I’d picture New Orleans being if no one gave a shit about it and it was only five thousand people. The ‘city’ of Lexington has an amazing amount of pre civil war era homes.

Too bad it seems to have no industry, and a few too many southern flags. Maybe I drove in at the wrong time and just happened to see all the cars with bumper stickers with confederate flags on them. I’ll give the town the benefit of the doubt. Still the courthouse has a cannon ball stuck in one of the pillars, and the people are so proud of their civil war heritage that they keep it up there.

If we define vampires as something that sucks the life out of another thing, I think towns like this might be vampires. Sucking the life out of past glorious until the time comes when those past glorious can’t support them anymore. It is a rather sad town.

One thing that the town has going for it is that right on the main street (which is not very busy) there is a coffee shop and a library next to it. The people at the coffee shop were really friendly and did way better than I expected on my drink since most small towns have no idea what espresso is, let alone how to brew an actual good cup of drip coffee. If you are ever in Lexington, go check them out.

The library was my main target. If any place in a town keeps more records than online it is the court house or the library. In my time doing research in college I learned to always check the library first. The people in the library were also nice but more stand offish, I guess that is what happens when you don’t really have to sell people anything or care if they come back. They let me have the run of the few shelves of historical information that they had, and the microfilms. I was disappointed at it all. Hours of being disappointed means more coffee.

I asked the lady at the coffee shop if she knew of anything important around that date. She had no clue. She said I should read the news paper at the library, so I decided to go back and read it again. Maybe I was missing something.

and I was.

On page two of that newspaper the digital version I found online had a different entry than the version in the microfilm dug up for me by the library attendant. Which was confusing to me since all the papers online were taken from the microfilm. Either someone changed this film, changed the one online or there were two editions of the paper. On page two on the online version there is a brief blurb about Invisible metal. On the local version that is replaced with this:

The Sanguine Society: The doors open in Kansas City on the areas first Temple of the Sanguine Society. In celebration Mr. Dearborne and family attended.

The asshole in me decided that this was a plant to trick me into some other Long Game plan, but the researcher and journalist in me decided that it had to be followed. I found the cities telephone book. There was only one Dearborne in the directory.

I made a print out of the paper (only ten cents! I was in the country!), packed up my things, got another cup of coffee next door and went to visit the address.

J. Dearborne’s house was little more than four brick walls with windows. The thing would of probably been declared unsuitable to live in, in the city but I get the feeling that Lexington likes it’s historic properties to be lived in no matter how crappy they are. I knocked on the door and an old man answered. He was big, 6’1 or so, and still had muscle on him despite his age. He looked up at me with eyes that said, “I don’t care” although his mouth didn’t say anything.

“Mr Dearborne?”

“Yes”

“My name is Alex, and I wondered if you might have a moment for me to ask you a few questions?”

“Are you a reporter or a cop?”

“A reporter”

He looks past me at my car then up and down the street. “Newspaper? I don’t see a tv crew.”

“Kinda, I’m an blogger.”

“internet stuff, so you looking for ghost stories or something?”

“No sir I’m trying to figure out why the December 8th 1922 newspaper mentions the Dearborne family going to Kansas City to the opening of a temple.”

The man looked thrown off guard. When his eyes came back to me he invited me in.

Inside the house was worse than the outside. The place was stacked to the ceiling with newspapers and books. In the main room all that could be seen of the floor was a walk way to the back door, and a small circle of space where a lounge chair sat next to a table. It smelled of mildew and library. Not unpleasant, the guy obviously got up to go to the bathroom, which is a bonus. Nothing seemed overly old. Two years at most.

As he sat down in his chair he spoke. “Do you have the paper?”

“No but I made a print out of it, would you like to see?” He nodded and I handed him my print out.

After reading the blurb he smiled. “Yes!”. I waited for him to continue. “I saved that film. After the temple was destroyed, and people came researching it, I took a copy of the film and saved it. Just last year I put it back on the shelf and already someone finds it!”

“what do you mean? What does it mean?”

“I don’t know!” The man seemed happy, on the verge of tears.

“What is the Sanguine Society?”

“I don’t know!” he said again almost like he was losing his mind.

“I don’t understand.”

He calmed down a bit and rested his face in his hands. “I don’t either miss, I was hoping whoever found that film would know. I was a kid when my dad took me to the city to see the temple, but I don’t remember it. I remember the drive, and my mothers smiling face in the sunlight, but I didn’t remember the temples name until I saw that the building was being torn down to make room for I-70. Must of been in the 50s. They didn’t mention it’s name, just the address and the temples name came back to me. That is when I went looking for it, and found the film right before the people came and replaced the rest of it. I’m not sure why but I forgot about it again until last year. Then I put the film back hoping someone would come with answers”.

“I don’t have any answers, just questions”

“I don’t have any answers either.”

“You said they replaced the other films?”

“Yes, they did. They took all the records, said they were making copies for the government, and then they brought them back a week later. When I asked about it they told me not to worry about it and I didn’t. That was after I took the film. I’ve always been one to take action before speaking.”

“same here Mr Dearborne, of course I do it without thinking.” I said with a smile. He smiled back. “Do you remember the address of the temple?”

“No, can’t recall that. You won’t find it in the papers anymore either. I tried.”

I asked him a few more questions that got me no where, and left him my number knowing full well that once I type up these words that he’ll most likely ‘forget’ again. I’m starting to realize that the one thing the movies and books get wrong is the number of bodies that vampires drop. They don’t drop bodies, they drop minds.

The last few days I’ve been back in Kansas City digging through history about this Temple. Where it was at, what it was, why the ‘door letter slider’ person really wants me to find it. Hopefully I’ll find something soon. My heart is kinda broken by the struggle that Mr Dearborne was having. He must be a strong man to be able to remember, either that or vamp magic wears off over time. It is something to research.

A reader pointed out to me the other day that I’m a very angry person. They are not wrong. I am angry. I’m very glad that is coming across on this blog. I would hate for anyone to get the wrong impression. I’m cynical, angry, disgusted, bored, and tired. Specially with vampires. If it wasn’t for Isabelle contacting me and putting me up for this blog job I would of cashed in my chips with those assholes after what Jesus did to me last month. If it wasn’t for Lucy tonight I would of cashed in my chips with Isabelle.

I don’t trust vampires, you all know that by now. The long game they play means that they are not strangers to deep imbeds of minions. Even the shit hole ones I’ve known via Jesus all play these game. The older and more stable ones play them really well. It’s like the cold war on crack that never wears off.. I would imagine. Masks are their bag, I get that, so I don’t trust them on principle.

Except Lucy.

So here is the deal. Suzanne called the cab I came home in tonight. I’m still a little sore and walking slow but otherwise I’m fine. Suzanne said that I’m lucky nothing vital was hit and that I should be one hundred percent soon. I say she is bullshitting me because I seem to of gotten better faster than getting hit by a bullet just a few inches from my belly button should be healing. Suzanne is a miracle worker. I should of called her Jesus.

I took my time enjoying the evening air. It’s in the 80s here but no rain, and the slight breeze makes it alright. Normally I take the stairs to my floor but today due to my injury I took the elevator. The minute the doors opened I knew Lucy was in my place.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nFuP9FXLF8Q

There is the song that was blaring down the hall from the door to my loft as the doors on the elevator opened. Typical I thought as I slowly walked toward the source. Drain the Blood. Vampire. Lucy. Yet you know how when you listen to the lyrics of a song at any given time they can almost be about that time. I’ve never bothered to think about those lyrics but they seemed appropriate to me right now. As I opened the door, I think they seemed more appropriate to Lucy.

In the middle of my living area she was rocking out like a teenager who just found their new jam. Air guitar, slamming walls, springing off couches, screaming. With this loud of music I’m not sure she even heard me open the door. Which should tell you how loud it was. Her antics even brought to an even more extreme by her dressing almost just like Brody Dalle (the lead singer).

I laughed. She heard me, and just like a teenager, which I remind you she almost looks like, she jumped and stopped immediately. I thought for a moment that she was genuinely embarrassed. She reached up and took off her black wig. We looked at each other not speaking while she shook out her red locks.

Finally she said, “fuck you”.

I went over and turned off the record player, which had moved onto Dismantle Me . “Yeah Fuck me” I said in the silence and crashed down into my ratty old couch.

She sat down next to me but we didn’t speak for a long time. I stared up at the pattern on the ceiling, that popcorny fuzzy crap on all modern ceilings. I thought about how maybe I shouldn’t of come back. That I could of just disappeared. The last month has been exhausting. Then she spoke.

“You are right you know, about vampires. We all deserve to get what is coming to us, sooner than later. ” I turned and looked at her while she continued. “I was mad at you for saying that I deserved it but you are right. I can’t be mad at you for saying what I know in my heart to be true.”

She looks away. “I want to be worthy of being someone you trust.”

“You play the long game.” I said.

She shook her head no, “We all do. Even you. You dream your plans up in days and years, we dream them up in decades if we want to, longer sometimes. It doesn’t mean our plans, or dreams are a game anymore than yours.”

“you say we like you are part of something”

“I don’t know anymore. The monster you called Boss and his friends got me thinking. I don’t know what I’m a part of.”

She bites her lower lip. I sat and watched her do that and for once in my vampire disdaining years my first thought wasn’t, “shes playing me.” Instead it was “how many years before the only time she does that is when she is playing someone”. Then doubt set more firm in me. I thought, Lucy with her power was only my age, she might honestly be still a person behind the monster.

I reached out and touched a ring of her hair. “Good thing you hang out with a journalist, we can find that out.” I said.

My weak smile caught her eyes and she lit up like Christmas.

We have spent the last few hours talking about my record collection, playing loud music and being young again. I haven’t felt this good around another person in a long time.

I’m sure it won’t last. After all I am a very angry person.