Immortal Memory (Iris' Atlantis 1)

Timothy: The Third Dose

I couldn't take my eyes off the bag. I felt too weak to raise my head to watch the needle, so I stared above at the container. I didn't know what it was made of. I doubted it was plastic. I suspected it might have been of animal skin, despite being somewhat transparent. I could see the golden liquid inside as a dark shape against the light.

It must have been made by witches. Otherwise it couldn't have held vampire blood. The blood either simply evaporated or corrupted everything it touched. It needed a very special kind of a container to simply stay. And a very special kind of device was needed for its extraction.

Few things penetrated a vampire's skin. A vampire's fang would. So would a vampire's nail. And those vanished as a vampire died. So the needle that now fed Mo's blood into my circulation was made by a witch as well. Carved of a vampire's fang under very special circumstances.

So the needle stayed. And the blood stayed.

I knew Mo had left an hourglass on her low table for me to see the remaining time, but I couldn't yet muster the strength to look at it. She had drained out most of my blood earlier, leaving just enough for me to not die outright. And that seemed to be very little blood indeed.

My blood was still reddish. It wasn't bloodred anymore, and it seemed to reflect light a bit too much. But it wasn't of the metallic golden shade in the bag above my head. Even so, some of it had evaporated soon after coming into contact with the outside air.

After two doses, some of me wasn't human anymore.

And the change would continue on, even without the third dose, even if the needle were pulled out this very instant. But this was Mo's way of making a strong vampire quickly. It required four doses.

I heard the door slide open. And I felt the human who entered. I recognised him as he came into the room, his head held high. I knew he was holding his head high. I could feel his curious confidence.

Stump took a cushion from beside the table and came to sit so that I had an easy view of his twinkling eyes and easy smile. He wasn't naked as I was, but wore a silk robe, embroidered with a flowery pattern. While Mo insisted all vampires came to her attendance naked, she did allow the Court's humans to wear a silk robe against the cold. The Castle was heated. But a hot blooded mammal without any fur got easily cold, and the Queen wasn't insensible.

"And how are we doing here?" Stump asked, poking the bag with a finger.

"If the last two doses are anything to go by, I would say I'll be just fine in half an hour," I informed him.

"Mmm..." Stump mused. He fell into a thoughtful silence in which I felt I was judged by an old owl.

There was also something about his presence that bugged me. It seemed hard to put into words what it was exactly that bothered me. Was it just the change that sharpened my senses and awareness?

"Mmm..." Stump repeated, sighing out a long exhale.

Then he looked at me with a fondness I hadn't expected.

"We are kind of running out of time," he said. "Soon she'll come in and our time together is nothing but a pleasant memory that wasn't quite right."

I frowned up at him.

"Memories are tricky little things aren't they?" Stump continued. "I can see, looking into your eyes, that this here isn't the first one. We are very close to the surface indeed. Very close."

"To the surface?" I asked him, trying, in vain, to understand what he was trying to communicate to me.

Stump waved my question away.

"I have no patience for this game. We have played it too many times again. So instead, I give you a riddle. Because riddles, I have noticed, work better than any straight spoken truths. So tell me, Timothy, how old am I?"

My frown deepened.

"Is there something you want for your birthday?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Stump wasn't to be swayed.

"Just this once, I would appreciate it if you left the witticisms and took my riddle seriously. How old am I?"

How old was Stump? An odd question. Had he mentioned it at some point?

I closed my mouth and concentrated on the ceiling. As the Castle was an old warehouse, there were pipes of all sizes running beyond low hanging lamps. Dust had gathered around a ventilation hole.

How old was Stump?

I hadn't really known the old man for a very long time... I had talked to him for the first time when he had shown me into a Room. We had talked a few times... He had been quite ill toward the end...

The end...

I remembered the end.

I suddenly found the strength to prop myself upright to a sitting position. I used my free hand to take his. The left. I turned it like a handle to expose the crook of his arm. The smallest of pinpoint holes.

It was there.

"You are dead," I told him. "I killed you."

I found Stump smiling at my startled expression.

"Good, son, you have solved my first riddle. Here is for you two more that are really one:

If I am dead, yet talking to you, this can not be as it should. And if this is not as it should, then whose blood is in that bag? And if it doesn't belong to the Queen, then who will come to see you to a new life?"