A midflight vampires tal.., p.1
A Midflight Vampire's Tale, page 1
飞机上长谈
A Midflight
Vampire’s
Tale
THE ORIGIN CHRONICLES
By Linda Ling
A Midflight Vampire’s Tale
Copyright © 2023 by Linda Ling
All rights reserved.
Print ISBN: 978-981-18-8774-1
eBook ISBN: 978-981-18-8775-8
Cover designer: Beth Train-Brown
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Dedication
To those who always thought Chinese vampires would be cool, not just European or American ones.
To my younger self—we did it.
“The Principle of Nature is that it does something against its own will and, by self-entanglement, produces Beauty.”
Dr. Otto Rössler
“Nothing in Biology makes sense except in the light of Evolution.”
Theodosius Dobzhansky, Geneticist
飞机
(fēi jī )
Mandarin for “airplane”
飞机上长谈
(fēi jī shàng cháng tán)
Mandarin for “an extended conversation on a plane”
Contents
Part I Origin
飞机
1
2
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3
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4
5
6
7
8
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9
10
11
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12
13
14
15
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16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
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25
26
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27
Part II The Seeker of True Bloods
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28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
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36
37
38
39
40
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41
42
43
44
45
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47
48
49
50
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Author’s Notes And Acknowledgements
About The Author
Other Books by the Author
Part I
Origin
飞机
Isipped the bubbling cold beverage in my hand. The fruity taste of champagne was a welcome burst of flavor, though it was nothing like the headiness of blood.
Letting the sip linger on my tongue, I eyed the flight attendant who sauntered past in a figure-hugging sarong kebaya.
“For the record, Cheng, I think you would look devastating in one of those outfits,” a male voice murmured to my side.
Lifting an eyebrow, I gave my traveling companion a sidelong look. Companion was not an accurate word to describe him. I could use any number of words such as vampire (though not the same type as me), large man (he was about six feet tall, and those long, muscled legs of his filled out the space before him, whereas I could fold my entire body into my seat with ease), or even fellow person of East Asian ethnicity.
But companion? No. At least, I wasn’t a willing one, not in some senses of the word.
I was inclined to stab him in the throat for that rather inappropriate comment when I noticed how the tips of his ears had reddened slightly. He downed his champagne, throat bobbing as he swallowed.
Huh. A compliment. A sincere one. And he was embarrassed to say so, but he still did anyway.
All right, I shan’t stab you for that remark. I’m too tired, and now I’m curious.
What do you want with me?
“I prefer my qipaos,” I murmured instead.
“Of course. Classics.”
A different flight attendant approached us. This one wore a uniform in hues of red and orange, unlike the other one’s purple and black tones. She appeared older too. The uniform was probably a sign of her more senior rank.
“Miss Lee, is there anything else I can get for you?” she chirped, eyes darting to me.
A gentle shake of my head and those mascara-lined eyes returned to my companion. “And you, Mr Xia?”
Oh, her finely-honed charms were no match against his. He returned her flirtatious smile, and her rouged cheeks bloomed a delicate pink.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Show off.
“I’ll have another one, please,” he requested, handing his long-stem glass over.
“Certainly, Mr Xia.”
As she strode away, I asked, “Are you that thirsty, Henry?”
He huffed. “Nervous.”
“You?” I scoffed. “Why? We’re no longer in danger. At least, not for the time being.”
“No, we aren’t. Thank goodness for that.”
I jutted my chin behind us. “Your friend, Shastari, is fine. I believe she’s fallen asleep again.”
“She’s not my friend,” he answered, his face hardening. “She’s the one who dragged me from my office in New York to Singapore.” His dark eyes met mine. “To find you.”
My mouth parted to speak, but he cut me off, “But you are right. We’re safe now.” The darkness flitted away as a shy smile emerged from his face. “I’m nervous because I’m finally sitting here. With you. A captive audience. You can’t run from me here.”
That unsettled me a little. And it clued me in to what he wanted. Either there was something he had to say that he wanted me to hear, or…
He wanted me to tell him things. Things that only I knew.
And knowing who he was, I could guess what he wanted to know.
He was right. I wanted to run. But I couldn’t, and I refused to. So I hedged and laughed instead. “Here I thought you were nervous because you were worried I’d bite or maul you, or do any number of untold heinous things to you, given my past and our…” I gestured between us. “...differences.”
He barked a laugh, large hands curling over the armrests. “We have our differences, surely. But I know you better than you think. If you wanted to maul or bite me, you’d have done it already. Admit it, you’re just as curious about me as I am about you.”
Damn. He had me there.
I was curious. Unhealthily so. I couldn’t help myself. I was already drawn to him for a number of reasons, and I allowed myself to ponder them as the flight attendant returned with Henry’s second champagne.
The most obvious thing about him, clearly, was how much of a killer he probably was. That is, if one ignored his expensive collared shirt, those dress pants and polished shoes, all of which made him look like he had stepped out of a business meeting involving billions of dollars.
He had the arms of a killer. His white sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the thick corded muscles of his arms which flexed with even the slightest movement. His thighs bulged from beneath his pants, obvious to me even in the dim lighting of the aircraft cabin.
It made me wonder when was the last time Henry had taken another life. It made me think of the last time I had done so. Once, unintentionally, a mere two years ago. And before that, over a hundred years ago.
Then again, in this day and age, most vampires didn’t have to resort to violence. It was needless and cruel, and a sentiment that most of us held to our hearts.
Truth be told, I was probably more of a killer than Henry. I did not have his build and obvious strength. I could fit all five-and-a-half feet of me into my luxurious first-class seat. Cross-legged. And though I didn’t look older than twenty-five, I’d lived over two-thousand years.
I had literally seen the rise and fall of civilizations.
I wondered what the flight attendant thought of me, thought of us, as she handed Henry his drink. Surely she couldn’t have guessed that the blood on my hands might have drowned dozens of people. Surely she couldn’t have suspected that Henry and I were no more than a man and a woman taking a redeye flight together.
What misconceptions ran through her mind as she glanced my way, a hint of envy in her gaze? Did she think I was Henry’s wife? His mistress? A friend or a colleague?
The last thing she would have guessed was that we were two vampires on the run.
Three, actually. Shastari, after all, was somewhere behind us. Sleeping.
Why, the flight attendant was probably wondering what Henry was doing with a woman like me. I was dressed in black clothes and combat boots. That, together with my white skin and slightly unruly shoulder-length black hair, made me look like an unobtrusive ghost, which was precisely what I wanted her to think, what I wanted anyone to think. Not to look too closely. To ignore. To turn away.
Henry, on the other hand, was the complete opposi te. He was the epitome of a human in his prime—a man in his thirties. Strong jaw. Broad shoulders. Healthy golden-brown skin. Raven black hair in a tight knot behind his head. One could not ignore him at all, not with his fit, strong, virile appearance.
Virile?
I tamped down on the thought, chiding myself. Don’t think of him that way. That is not a road you want to travel.
Henry finished his drink, waved an attendant over, and handed his empty glass to her. Then, he settled into his seat, clasping his hands together with a satisfied sigh.
He leaned toward me. “Did I mention that I’m a bit of a collector of stories?”
That statement threw me off guard for only an instant, before it occurred to me that this was what he wanted.
A story. Mine.
Not that he was explicitly asking for it, no. But I could see where this was going. I wanted to sigh and ask why he wasn’t feeling as exhausted as I was. I’d just come out of a fight for my life (not my first, of course, but definitely a memorable one in recent years), whereas he and Shastari had been on the run for three days.
I wanted to ignore him, but he was being pesky. After all, I’d requested separate seats at the airline check-in counter. However, once Henry had realized that the cabin was empty save for the three of us, he had insinuated himself beside me like some sort of eager puppy.
A very large eager puppy.
And I was stuck with him all the way until we landed in Italy.
I was a captive audience, indeed.
“No, you have not,” I responded irritably, gesturing to the pricey titanium watch on his exposed wrist. “I gather you’ve amassed a fortune for yourself, but so have many of us who live for centuries and hide in plain sight among humans. Although…that wasn’t the point of your question.”
He caught the annoyance in my voice. I caught it too. The way it sharpened my gentle accent, which had been honed after years of living in post-Victorian England, where lords and ladies still lived in houses full of butlers and cooks and servants, and sipped on tea with milk while nibbling on buttered scones in fine parlors.
On the other hand, Henry possessed a mid-Atlantic accent which reminded me of black-and-white Hollywood films. Coupled with that deep, smooth voice of his, it was easy to see why he oozed enough charm to seduce an entire room. Or in this case, an entire cabin of female flight attendants. Possibly the sole male one too. The only distinctive thing about his speech was a sharp twang here and there, and the faster cadence of his words. I would have bet that had something to do with his Asian heritage. If he spoke Mandarin or Cantonese (and I had no doubt that he was well-versed in one or both, like me), then it explained the uniqueness of his speech.
Speaking of heritage…why did he keep his hair so unfashionably long? Was it a throwback to his youth? Had he grown up in olden China? Which dynasty? Why was his skin so much darker than mine? It wasn’t just because he was a different type of vampire. There was non-Chinese blood in him too, I was certain of it.
He spoke again, interrupting my unbridled curiosity, “No, Cheng. That was certainly not the point of my question.”
Cheng. Again, my chosen name on his lips jarred me. I knew why, though I wasn’t going to dwell on it.
Instead, I asked, “What do you mean then, when you say that you collect stories?”
“I collect stories,” he repeated. “Like my ancestors before me.”
Ancestors. Like the one who preceded you by several generations. The one I knew and loved.
His gaze locked with mine, but I merely angled my head, ignoring the leaden weight that threatened to settle in my stomach. He was trying to get a reaction out of me. I knew this. He knew this.
I gave him nothing.
After a moment, he went on, “I have archives. Storage facilities. Copies of copies I painstakingly made to preserve the wealth of knowledge that’s been handed down to me. Which I am now solely responsible for. But I took things a step further, and it’s only because of the times we live in.”
“One step further?”
There was a gleam of pride in his eyes as he revealed, “Fifteen years ago, I started a publishing company. It’s rather successful now if I do say so myself. Perhaps you’ve heard of it.”
At the expectant tilt of my head, he told me the name of his company. I chuckled in amusement. “A True Blood like you? Running a publishing business? That is a first. And what, pray tell, do your fellow True Bloods make of it?”
For that’s what Henry was. A True Blood vampire. A vampire who was biological, who could thrive in the day and eat food. A vampire who was born, who lived and matured in a way no different from that of a human child, until they hit puberty. Then, their strength grew. Their thirst developed. And they became what they were born to be.
Which meant that he was vastly different from me. A Hybrid vampire. Made. Changed. Formerly human. I consumed a minuscule amount of food and drink for appearances. I could not stand the sun, for it burned my skin and made my flesh grow tumorous.
Henry shrugged. “I make no secret of it, but I don’t speak of it either. I don’t speak to my kin at all if I can help it.”
“Ah…you’ve hinted at that time and again—how you avoid your people like some reclusive hermit.”
“A rich one.”
“Shastari has alluded to it as well, and I’d ask her myself except she’s fast asleep. And you refuse to reveal why.”
His silence and stony expression served as his answer. He wouldn’t speak of it until he was ready.
Suppressing the sigh in my chest, I switched gears, “Your publishing company. Is that how you collect your stories then?”
“Oh, no. Not at all,” he clarified, eager for the change in topic. “The company’s just a business that happens to mesh with my interests. The stories churned out by my company are fiction, at the end of the day, no matter what people might think. Whereas the stories I collect are still ours. ”
Ours. He’d said the word as if he and I were no different from each other. But we stood on opposing ends of a chasm. Surely he knew that?
It was time to address what I’d already guessed. I crossed my arms. “I won’t give you my story. There’s nothing to tell if that’s where you’re going.”
His face fell. This obvious display of emotion amazed me. How could he have lived so long this way? Unless it was because of his proximity to me. It was clear he’d known of me for a long time. Perhaps…idolized me.
You don’t know me, I thought. And I don’t know you.
He collected himself. “Perhaps I don’t want your story.”
I shot him a look.
“Perhaps I want Sarah’s.”
I didn’t, for a second, believe that. He knew who I was. I knew who he was. He reeked of curiosity, just as I did. What a blatant lie.
Or was it?
“Sarah’s fine.”
Is she?
His dark-brown eyes held mine, and he mirrored my own doubts as he said, “We’re flying toward danger, not away from it. You’ve said so yourself that he, our enemy, has been looking for one like you. You’ve gotten away. Barely. And it’s thanks to me and Shastari. Now, I know of only one other person in this entire world like you, Cheng, and we both know who that is.”
My hands balled into fists. “Sarah.”
Regret left a bitter taste in my mouth. I should have protected her better. But I did all I could, didn’t I? The circumstances were far from ideal.
“We can’t help her,” Henry interjected, echoing my thoughts. “Not now, while we’re flying in the air. Help me understand Sarah. What she knows. What she doesn’t. Whether she’s even equipped to fend off anyone trying to take her…”
His words threatened to steal the air from my lungs, and I forced myself to breathe. At least I could breathe. After all, I was still flesh and blood. Just…different from a human, as Henry was different too.
“All right. To tell you about Sarah, I’d have to speak of how I met Julian first.”
A corner of his sensuous mouth lifted. “Tell me then. I’m all ears.”
So I did, beginning with events from two years ago.
1
Cheng
The boy, Julian, rolled his eyes at Cheng. “Please, like I would believe you’re a vampire, Mariko. If that’s even your real name.”
From where she was crouched by his bed, she frowned at his perceptiveness. “That’s irrelevant. You need to come with me immediately.”
