Richie stepped off the plane, he felt wired from lack of sleep and anxious about meeting the secretive stranger. He was hoping to high heavens it wasn’t some crazy cult hoping to get their chunk out of a vampire. Damn you get some crazy ass people these days!
A few hours into waiting for Stanislan, the moon shining high, he almost gave up when a dark figure came sauntering his way, his eyes resting coldly on his face. He came to a standstill.
“Do you have the money?” He stood a few paces away.
Richie’s eyes narrowed.
“Depends on who you are and who you’re gonna take me to.”
“You want me to take you to professor Hitzig or don’t you?” He was ready to stalk away.
“Yeah ok ok, fuck hold your horses. Could we maybe do this somewhere more private?”
He turned wordlessly and Richie followed. Getting into a taxi, he handed the money over, waited till the man counted it and sat back as he barked out an address, an address Richie filed into his mind as he repeated it over a few times.
As the few minutes turned into an half an hour Richie felt the cold fingers of fear fizzled through his core. The city was way behind them and long, shadowy trees flew by. Where in the hell was this man..hiding? Something about all this was so wrong…so damn frightingly wrong!
The taxi turned into a gravel road, a gloomy, old mansion suddenly loomed before them.
It halted and Richie got out, taking in the depressing state of his surroundings.
Were they expected? Hell didn’t seem like it! A dim light was burning on the patio, the house was in disrepair, speaking of age old hands putting the building together in earlier years.
The stairs creaked loudly as it took the weight of the two men. Pressing the bell, Richie was quite surprised when he heard the ringing echoing clearly through the mansion.
Hasty footsteps came towards the door and suddenly stopped. The door flew open and before him was a creepy looking old man, his long, grey, unkept hair stood wildly about his face. Glasses balanced precariously on his nose while his watery blue eyes scrutinized.
Fury turned his eyes into hard marbles and he sneered at the man next to Richie.
“I thought you were bringing me a vampire. This is not a vampire, you imbecile!” his German accent was undeniable.
“How should I know when they are vampires?” he huffed and turned around, making his way down the stairs. “Let’s go.”
The old man was about to slam the door but Richie was far from done, he hadn’t slept, he hadn’t had anything to eat in ages and he just paid a shitload of money, by God this old fart was going to listen to what he had to say!
He stopped the door with his boot.
“I’m not a vampire but I’m here for a friend. If you afford me the time, I’ll explain.”
The old man’s focus turned from the dark boot to the dark haired stranger that had the audacity to meddle with him. Desperation clearly noticeable in his dark eyes….
“I don’t have time to waste. Say your say and then you are out of here.” The door creaked open.
He nodded towards the man at the bottom of the stairs before he shut the door, bolted it with so many locks that Richie felt his stomach squeeze.
He led him towards a musty, old study room. Rows and rows of books adorned the wooden shelves. Heavy green and gold drapes kept preying eyes outside. A few maids and a dust cloth and this place could be quite charming.
A loud scraping of throat turned his attention back to the old man sitting behind the desk, rapping his fingers impatiently.
Richie sat down on the creaking chair, hoping to high heavens it wouldn’t give away and he landed on his ass on the carpet.
“So you are a black swan then?”
“A what?” he frowned. He didn’t have time for vampire jargon .
A sarcastic laugh forced through lips.
“And new to it too. Tell me Mr….?”
“Richie…call me Richie.”
“How long have you been a black swan?”
Richie leaned forward his eyes burning into the aged ones.
“If you can tell me what the fuck a black swan is…I’ll tell you.”
Leaning back into the humungous chair, the old man pressed his fingers together, staring at them while he opened and closed them, he continued.
“A black swan is someone who is an ally for a vampire although he isn’t a vampire himself. Tell me Richie, it is a family member of yours, a lover...this vampire you are getting help for?”
“No it’s my friend…my brother. We are in a band together.”
Seeing as how secluded the old professor was, he knew he wouldn’t recognize him or the band.
Standing up as quickly as his age would allow, he sauntered around the table, taking his time, his hands clamped behind his back, listening intently.
Settling next to Richie, he leaned into the table, his eyes resting on him as interest lit the watery eyes.
“How long has it been since he’d been turned.”
“Almost a year now.”
“Aahhh…a fledgling. Now why would you want my help?”
“Well his thirst is out of control, he kills left and right and well as I said with the band thing going on. He is placing himself and others in danger. He has a wife and kids too. He needs help to control this.”
“Where is his Andra?”
Richie threw his hands up in the air.
“His what?! Can we do this in English?”
“His sire..the one who turned him…the woman?”
“How did you know it’s a woman?”
“I might be old, I’m not stupid. Rockstars have more mistresses than hitsongs….do you know her name?”
“Chimala.” It was out before he realized and for a moment he felt this creepy feeling. Did he just do the right thing?
“Aaahh..Chimala..still about I see.” Pleasure shone in his demented eyes. The elusive trophy he had been hunting down for years without any luck…..
“So tell me…” he yanked Richie’s wrist up, pushing the jacket back as he inspected.
“Are you a donor?” healthy, un bitten skin displayed in the light.
Jerking his hand back, he sneered.
“No. I told you before he is my friend. Do I need to give blood to be on their side? Are you going to help me or not?”
Richie stood up, walking with a stiff back towards the door. He didn’t trust this man, maybe it’s for the best if he goes back. They will HAVE to find another way to help Jon. His answer halted his steps immediately.
“Yes, I’ll help you.”
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