Samantha moon phantasm, p.107
Samantha Moon Phantasm, page 107
part #9 of Vampire for Hire Series
That said, this abomination cannot be permitted to live. How many more mothers and fathers need to suffer before this thing is destroyed?
Okay, I am calm again.
And so I watched you grow into a beautiful woman. I watched you also brilliantly adapt to these modern times. Your past two lives, in particular, you worked as a nurse, sometimes using your latent magical skills to aid you, although you whispered nothing to anyone. At times, I suspected, you even doubted your own skills. And yet, they were there, when needed. How do I know this? I watched, Sam. I observed from afar, and sometimes, up close. Sometimes, yes, sometimes I even dipped into your mind. I’m sorry for such intrusions. I am but a lost and hurting father.
Once I saw you put down roots in Fullerton, I did the same, in a home that—if you are reading this letter—is all yours. I was pleased to watch your success, both in finishing graduate school and landing a job well suited to your skills and intellect.
I noted, however, that you hadn’t come into your own just yet with magic. That was okay with me, truth be known. I was fine with that. That kept the Red Rider at bay. That said, I sensed the magic in you, and so did you, if you were honest with yourself. So did the witchy trifecta, of which you were to be a part of. How do I know this? Because one of them watched over you, as did I. She was in spirit, choosing not to be re-born during this cycle. She thought, perhaps correctly, that the trifecta might be better served having one of their members steadfastly within the world of energy. An odd concept, but one that could give them even more power, even if her magic was limited or nonexistent. It would put more pressure, surely on the other two members. But her broad-range knowledge should have proved invaluable. Again, how did I know this? I have lived a long time, Sam. And I am a bit of a detective myself, at this point. I can put two and two together and come up with a valid supposition.
So I waited, knowing something special was coming your way, knowing the full expression of magic was coming your way, too. You were a late bloomer, so to speak. Yes, it took all these lifetimes to get you back to full power after it had been stolen from you.
I watched your new family take shape, and I was pleased. You loved Danny, and I liked him, too. Well, up until a few years ago. But that is another story. You seem to be catching on to the bastard, and so I will not have to step in. Trust me, Sam Moon, it was all I could do to not show up at his work and put the fear of God in him. Or the fear of me in him.
As happy as I was to see you thriving and blossoming and your family growing, I found myself hurting all the more. Oh, how I wanted to be a part of your family! The eccentric grandfather who could perform real magic tricks for his grandkids, even if they were many lifetimes removed. Indeed, how much longer could I do this to myself? How much longer could I hurt and hunt? I didn’t know. At times, I looked forward to death. For then, I would finally find peace, even if it meant losing all of myself back into the One Source, back into the One Mind. Even if it meant never existing again. Your life was on the right track. Peace had come to you, even if your own job was far from peaceful because I knew you could handle yourself.
And that’s when the whispering occurred.
That’s when my own dark master stirred within me.
The dark masters, it would seem, had long since been aware of you... and were waiting, so to speak. Waiting for their chance to pounce. I knew this because my own dark master gave me warning. You were exactly what they needed: an entity with a witchy heritage, born into an alchemical bloodline, which you happened to be in this lifetime. This was news to me. This I did not know.
Oh, they waited a long, long time for someone like you.
Apparently, witchy abilities can be sensed by more than just the Red Rider. Apparently, those born in the Hermetical bloodline have a signature in their aura: a silver serpent that wends its way in and out, in and out, over and around. The alchemists are aware of those in their bloodline, and have sought to mute the silver serpent with charms. But not all charms work all the time. Sometimes, charms are removed from a body. Sometimes, the silver serpent is free to be seen by any with eyes to see.
But here is another secret, Sam. The dark masters are also aware of the alchemical bloodlines. They keep tabs on them, and watch those they can, waiting for The One, so to speak. That is, she or he born with powerful magicks, and also born into the Hermetical bloodline.
Sam, it is safe to say you were marked for quite some time. All of which was unknown to me at the time, although I know it now.
And so the dark masters fed my own dark master, whom they knew to be weakened and even friendly toward me, false information, if you will.
I was led on a wild goose chase, thinking an attack was coming from elsewhere in the city, which was when you were jostled from sleep, and given the idea to go for a midnight run.
A midnight run? Really, Samantha.
Who jostled you? None other than your own dark master, Elizabeth. She’d been keeping an eye on you for some time, too, sometimes frightening you, although she never intended to scare you. Still, the proximity of her presence was enough to terrify you. How was it that she escaped the Void long enough to visit you in spirit? You will have to ask her. She was—and is—a dark master of the highest order. She undoubtedly has a few more tricks up her sleeve.
By the time I’d realized we had been duped, your attack was well under way. I immediately sought you out, honing in on you as I’m always able to do. Seeing you in my mind’s eye, I teleported instantly to your side.
Chapter Seventeen
There is another twist in the tale, as they say.
There is a reason I could not—would not—allow the vampire to turn you. There is a reason why, in fact, I drove a silver dagger deep into the vampire’s heart, even while he hovered over you, ready to feed you from his own slit wrist.
First off, the dark masters have done a number on us.
Not only do they not tell us that the primary source of our powers—our strength, telepathy, teleportation, transformations, warning bells, you name it—all come from our own inner beings, but they have neglected to tell us something else entirely. You see, Sam—and I do apologize for taking your name so informally... it just feels right to my ear—but you see, something else happens when a vampire infects a mortal with his tainted blood.
There is, in fact, quite a lot that goes on, as you will see...
The instant the infection occurs, the soul is snatched from heaven, even while the dark master invades the unsuspecting victim, attaching itself, quite literally, for eternity. But something else happens, too. Something rarely talked about and rarely known, but of paramount importance to the dark masters.
It is a secondary entry point, a secondary back channel to access your thoughts and control you, an entry point that I effectively plugged up by turning you myself, rather than the monster they’d sent to attack you.
You see, Sam, when a vampire’s blood irreversibly infects a human, a pathway of sorts is created, a connection, a link between sire and victim. The link, quite simply, allows me access to your mind itself.
Such access is terribly invasive, and it was why I had to turn you at all costs, and not the wretched beast who would have done so otherwise.
Sam, I know this is a lot to take in. It is why I did not approach you sooner. How could I have been able to get you to understand? Surely, you needed experience as a new vampire to understand what you were, years to control what you are. I was willing to give you this time, and approach you accordingly. I had not expected the hunter to disrupt my plans. Truly, I had envisioned giving you these words in person, perhaps high up on my balcony, as we gaze at the stars together. Yes, I harbor such idealistic visions. I have more, too, each more embarrassing than the next. But in all of them, we are together again, father and daughter, and life is as it should be and I am finally, finally content. Perhaps those days will still come. After all, should I survive the hunter’s attack, you may never see these words. If so, maybe, just maybe we might still have that moonlit stroll along, say, a beach of your choice, talking the way only family can, laughing and telling stories.
Do you see how pathetic I am, Sam?
Still, these hopes and dreams are what drive me forward, along with the much darker and bleaker task of eliminating the Red Rider. But enough of him. Let’s talk about our link.
Yes, we have a link, and we’ve had it the instant my blood trickled beyond your parted lips and down your damaged throat. We had it the moment the dark shadow appeared as if from the ground itself. I caught sight of a female with red eyes and long claws, something that had been very far removed from human, something that I suspected had been entombed in The Void for centuries perhaps. Later, I would learn just who found her way into you, and I would regret over and over again for having turned my baby girl into a monster like me. But there is literally no turning back now.
That is not quite accurate. I do have such a tool that could turn you back. I removed it from the man who attacked you and have since verified its veracity. It’s a medallion. A ruby medallion, which I am certain will reverse vampirism. You see, I know curses and have seen magic, and I could feel the power of the medallion. How it works, exactly, I do not know. But I suspect it does have the power to reverse vampirism. If so, you can expect to find it with my belongings. It is, perhaps, the most precious gift I can give you. No, I will not use it on myself. It is for you, dear heart. You, and you alone.
The link. Yes, the link.
From the moment your soul was summoned from the heavens, you went from mortal, to immortal, and a pathway was opened in my mind. A pathway that led directly to your mind.
Not telepathy, child. This is a real opening, a real neural network that I can access at any given moment. Let’s see, I will access it now...
There you are, pacing your home, awaiting the sun to sink below the horizon. You are anxious, jittery. Do not worry, little one, the anxiousness will leave over time, and you will flow more naturally with circadian rhythms of the sun and moon. For now, though, you are anxious and so I will give you a small prompting that all will be okay. Okay, I just did so and you, of course, believe it to be your own thought, and so you are sitting now on your couch. But your worry has not left. Instead, you wonder why your husband is late again and why he keeps talking about his secretary. I ease your mind of all that as well. Relax child, I tell you from deep in your mind, and now you are taking a deep breath, relaxing, telling yourself that everything will work out, somehow. Somehow.
Somehow.
And now you are crying, but I let you cry. Sometimes a good cry is needed. So much is built up inside you, child. So much pain and worry that I sit here now, shaking my head, worried for you, but loving you all the more.
Do you see now why I couldn’t allow that monster inside your brain, why I could not allow him to exert such control over you, even if such control was in the form of mild suggestions? Should I die, that opening will be forever closed, and that’s not such a bad thing, is it? I do not pry into your life, but sometimes I cannot help a small peek, and I watch from afar, laughing when you laugh, struggling when you struggle, and hungering when you hunger. In those moments our minds are truly one. Perhaps, at times, you have gotten a hint of an old man in an old house, obsessed with you and the Red Rider. The opening is not as strong in the other direction, meaning from you to me. Think of a funnel. I can see you, bright and bigger than life. I am but a pinprick in your own thoughts, easy to ignore and dismiss. Luckily, you do not question your very thoughts, and for that I am grateful. It shows me that I am not too intrusive, although I do feel guilty for watching you as much as I do.
So there you have it, child. My story. My reason for existing. The reason you are what you are. The reason heaven has been stolen from you. I take full blame for that. I could have watched you die in my arms. I did not have to turn you. That was all me, and I have only myself to blame for that.
But please remember: although there is no heaven for you, you can make heaven on earth. There is beauty all around you, and many hundreds and hundreds of years in front of you. The world has plenty to enjoy, even for the undead. And always there is something to learn, about both yourself and the world around you. So much to learn.
With that said, if you are reading these words, it means I am long dead, by about six years at least, enough time for my own bloodsucking attorney to certify that there will be no returning for me.
What are my parting words for you, Samantha Moon? Would like to know what we named you four hundred years ago? Would you like to know what I called you when you were my little one? Oh, you do? Daisy. You were my sweet little Daisy, and you loved flowers so much. You never picked them, no. You would smell them and touch them and dance around them.
My sweet little Daisy. You are all grown up.
I wish you a long life, dear heart. I wish you to never take any moment for granted. I wish each new day brings you love and joy. There are worlds beyond this, Sam Moon. You have lived in one of them. But there are also lives beyond the ones you know now. Allow for those you love to grow old and live their lives. Do not be tempted to change them. Allow the natural progression as God intended. There will be more children, even if they are not your own, more friends, more lovers, more dreams and desires. Never forget who you are, and do not hate anyone or anything, even the thing within you. Over time, she will soften, you will see. Yes, I have long since implanted within you the need to drink only animal blood, and yes, the entity within you hates me for that. But she can hate me. Weirdly, strangely, perversely, I love her too. After all, if not for her and others like her, a loophole would not have been found in the system, and they would not have been able to find their way back to earth, and she would not have been able to give you eternal life. You live because of these dark masters, Sam. They are truly evil geniuses. Learn to work with them, not hate them, and you will see the rough seas begin to smooth.
If you are reading these words, it is also likely the Red Rider lives on, killing the magical among us. I am not asking you to take up my mantle. But should you find yourself in the vicinity of the Red Rider, please do not hesitate to blot the earth of this disease.
With that, I leave you with love and smiles. I see the sun has set and you are calm now in your home. I like seeing you calm. God bless you, little one.
Chapter Eighteen
I found myself crying harder than I expected to, and it took me many minutes to get the tears under control. That a man had given up everything for me, my one-time father... oh, geez.
More tears flowed and, at one point, Anthony was hugging me while Tammy stood in the doorway. She had, undoubtedly, read every word with me, seeing it through my eyes. My daughter was, of course, the ultimate snoop. In this case, although the letter was deeply personal, I did not mind that she had seen what I had seen.
“It’s okay, Mommy,” Anthony was saying, over and over, sounding much younger than his fifteen years.
Tammy said nothing, but I saw the tears in her own eyes. She was wearing sweats and a Supergirl shirt. I’d asked earlier what the difference was between the Supergirl and Superman logo was, and, with a full eye roll that surely hurt, informed me that there was no difference. Duh. And added, “You’re such a dork.”
“Well, it’s a legitimate question,” I had asked. “Like, legit.”
“Did mom just say ‘legit’?” Anthony had asked, sauntering by with a sandwich in hand. Correction, three sandwiches in hand, all smashed together. Jelly and mayo oozed between slices of bologna, peanut butter and bananas. Sweet Moses, I had not just seen that.
The memory comes and goes as she stood in the doorway, crying quietly herself. She knew everything I knew about my own sire. I asked if she was okay, and she nodded, wiped her eyes, and asked if I was okay. I answered honestly. I didn’t know.
Anthony never did ask what was wrong. But when he saw that his work here was done, that his mother was under some semblance of control, he headed back into the living room, and continued his video game.
I carefully rolled up the scroll and re-tied the leather strap. I opened the top drawer in my desk and set it in inside, just behind my pens. The scroll was, quite literally, the story of a life. An important life. Jeffcock, despite how outrageous the name was, had been my father. A very good father at that. A loving and kind and hardworking father who let a little girl enjoy the magic of the world, without judgment or punishment, a father who had seen his world get turned upside down.
The scroll was also another story. It was the story of me, as a young girl, in another world and another time. It was a story I knew I would re-read over and over again, especially the scenes of playing in the woods, connecting with nature, and of me happy and content, pure and full of joy. I wonder... yes, I wonder if I would ever be that happy again? I doubted it. I had been magical and alive and connected, and all was right in the world.
Until the Red Rider appeared and took me away.
And he didn’t just take me away, did he? A part of me suspects I had been consumed alive, one bite at a time. By the world’s greatest monster.
The greatest monster of all.
Well, fuck him and the devil horse he rode in on.
I was going to find him, and I was going to destroy him. I was going to continue my father’s search, whether he wanted me to or not.
And I suspected he did.
I had once been a federal agent, but I was a different kind of agent now, wasn’t I?
Indeed. I was an agent for the Angel of Death.
And I had The Devil Killer.
The sword of all swords.
