Uriah
LONDON, ENGLAND, 1885
The howling winds of a cool, dark night echoed like banshees from the top of the Palace of Westminster’s famed Clock Tower. Three vampires perched just above the Great Clock of Westminster, still basking in the victory of climbing up and to the outside of the building.
was joined by his then-girlfriend Regina, a beautiful Black woman with flowing dark hair, and Ripper, his alcoholic progeny with a well-groomed mustache. They laid across the decorative trim top of the clock face.
“So, this is the tower with, uh, how many nicknames is it, my love?” Regina asked, looking down in amazement.
“Who knows?” chuckled before spitting off of the ledge they now leaned over.“More importantly, who cares?”
“Some call it Big Ben,” said Ripper. “Doesn’t look so big to me.”
The corners of Regina’s mouth turned up. “If a height such as this is no concern to either of you gentlemen, then what say you of a dare?”
“A dare?” ’s brows drew together. “What dare?”
“Why, I dare thee both to jump to the bottom,” replied Regina before playfully nudging both vampires.
“You what?” asked , scoffing as though he missed her full question. “Want Ripper to jump?”
“Or, perhaps, fly ,” she giggled. “Like the stories the old wives tell of us.”
“Fly? Rubbish,” retorted Ripper.
“Oh, come on, Jack,” cheered as he rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. “What’s a little more blood spilled on these streets to you, anyway?”
Ripper nodded. “A fair point.”
“If you gentlemen go first, I’ll join thee,” the vampiress teased, studying her company’s skeptical faces before sweetening the deal. “Oh, I do swear it.”
Ripper gave a gentle shove. “The vixen swears it, eh?”
“If she swears it, then so be it,” nodded. “Youngest first, though. I don’t make the rules.”
With that, returned the favor by knocking his elbow into Ripper. The push caused him to lose his grip, sliding forward and off the ledge.
“Oh, bloody hell, Mr. Black. You vile bugger!” Ripper shouted as he fell.
“And there you have it, Regina,” said, wrapping his arm around his beau as the sound of Ripper’s yells and curses drifted further and further below them. “Proof that the flight of vampires is all but a myth.”
“And it’s something you will not so much as even attempt?” Regina asked, shrugging out of ’s embrace. “Not even for me, the finest lady of the night in all of London?”
“Not a bloody chance in hell, my lady,” replied with a smug grin.
“, you absolute pillock!”
It surprised the duo to see Ripper floating above them now, a smile on his face as he waved his arms in the air. “If I wasn’t so happy with this newfound revelation, I’d cut your throat right here and now.”
“My god,” rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
Regina gasped as she held her hand to her heart. “The rumors are indeed true.”
“Guess you’ll have to try it for yourself now, eh, you arsehole?” Ripper taunted , grabbing at the collar of his shirt and pulling him off the ledge.
“Oh, hell!” howled as he tumbled down into the dark.
“I’m afraid you might have killed him,” Regina laughed, a confused look on her face.
“That’s what he gets for killing me, I suppose,” Ripper chuckled as he floated close to the ledge where the vampiress huddled. “And look at me, I can even dance in the air.”
Regina watched with amusement as Ripper kicked his legs up and down as though attempting some kind of terrible jig. Ripper’s jubilant look faded as an arm reached up and grabbed his foot. “What the— oh , you wanker!”
Now clinging to the long arm of the clock, tugged at Ripper’s leg, causing him to lose his balance and again fall toward the ground. As the once-flying vampire disappeared below, his sire grasped for the ledge and pulled himself back up.
“Well, that was great fun.” His facial expression anything but amused, ’s eyes focused in on Regina’s. “Your turn, love.”
The vampiress let out a nervous chortle.
THE ATLANTIC OCEAN, 1912
The sound of waves against the boat was enough to stir the drunken vampire. Clad in the finest upper-class formal wear seen aboard the ship, sat up from his slumber on the deck, got to his feet and staggered to the railing, a bottle in hand.
“Well, I suppose there’s no better time than now to give the old flying trick a go again,” he said aloud as though to convince himself it was possible.
With that, leaned over the edge of the vessel, retching down into the ocean below. His vomit spewed over the ship’s starboard bow, temporarily staining its nameplate, which read Titanic , a dark crimson. “Bloody hell,” he cursed. “That’s what I get for eating the finest humans first class has to offer. Should have stuck with just the crew.”
Putting his feet up onto the railing of the bow, he looked around before stretching his arms out wide. “I’m flying!” he shouted into the night sky. “I’m flying!”
The ringing of a bell in the distance did not deter the vampire from his mission. Almost, he thought to himself. If any vampire is to truly fly, it is to be me.
entered into a trance-like state, focusing solely on the wind rushing beneath his arms. It was only when the sounds of ice crunching into metal rang through his ears that he snapped back to reality—and by then, he truly was flying. Except not towards the sky. “Where are the stars?” he asked himself as the force of the wind propelled his arms up, sending him soaring downwards.
For a moment, however, the spiraling stopped and the vampire coasted in the air. His cheers of excitement appeared to echo. It was only then he realized the sound reverberation was brought on by the steep walls of an iceberg he was about to crash into. Letting out a yelp, the vampire smacked his head across a large piece of ice and spiraled sideways. He only realized he was going the wrong direction when he plunged into the water.
“Damn,” he cursed as he reached the surface. “So much for my maiden voyage.”
PETROGRAD (PRESENT DAY ST. PETERSBURG), RUSSIA, 1916
“You know what they’re saying about you, right, ole mate?”
A December snow fell on the quiet evening streets as stumbled out of a small bar, his arm slung over the shoulders of a long-haired friend. The man who helped keep the vampire steady looked inquisitively at his drinking buddy.
“Oh, well, I mean, my Russian isn’t the best, so I was hoping you could tell me,” continued, his eyes intermittently crossing. “Damn, I don’t know that I’ve ever drank this much. It’s almost like the rumors of Rasputin the Drunk weren’t just rumors.”
Rasputin—much more handsome than the drawings and photographs of the time depicted him—nodded merrily as stroked the Russian mystic’s beard. “They say an awful lot about you, as a matter of fact. I hope one day I have a reputation even half the size of yours.”
As the two approached a pedestrian bridge, Rasputin spoke slowly in his native tongue, asking if he’d like to continue their night at the next bar. Finally finding his own footing and stepping away from his friend, nodded.
The mystic grinned, but his smile quickly faded as a group of noblemen passed them.
“Oh, bollocks. What now, Grig?” asked as he leaned against the railing of the bridge.
Rasputin was careful to enunciate his Russian quietly, whispering in ’s ear as he did so.
“Oh, those boys that just passed invited you to a party tomorrow, did they? Well, that’s absolutely lovely of them. They look like a wonderful pair of, um, uh, confirmed bachelors , if you will,” said without a doubt, implying that the men appeared to be gay. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, eh, Raspy? I’ll bet their parties are the most elegant affairs in all of Petrograd.”
Though there was a worried look on Rasputin’s face, he reluctantly nodded in agreement.
“Say, you ever think about jumping in this cold water and just going for a swim?” leaned over the edge of the bridge and pointed toward the river below. “That is, if you could break through all that ice.”
Rasputin pursed his lips and tapped his foot before again replying in slow, simple Russian for .
“Oh, right. I forget,” nodded before revealing his vampire incisors. “You’re not like me yet, pal. Something you want, though, right?”
Rasputin didn’t seem to understand at first, so pointed at his teeth. The mystic put his hand to his chin, running his fingers through his beard before finally nodding.
“Life eternal, free food, free anything really,” sighed with happiness. “Think you call it, uh, vampir. ”
“ Vampir, ” Rasputin repeated before tapping on the shoulder and entering into a game of charades. With his hands together like wings, he mimicked the flight of a bird before pointing his hands up to the sky. When scratched his head, the famed faith healer attempted English. “To fl-fl-fly? Vlad Dracula? Vampir? ”
“Vlad can bugger off,” the vampire replied before fully digesting his friend’s inquiry. Dracula’s a bloody show-off, that’s what he is, he thought to himself before finally realizing what Rasputin was implying. “Oh , you mean can vampires fly? Can I fly?”
Rasputin nodded affirmatively. In response, hoisted himself atop the bridge’s snow-covered railing and stood as though ready to dive into the river below.
“Well, of course I can,” said smugly, taking a leap over the edge not a second later.
“ Net! Net! ” Rasputin shouted, looking over the railing in horror as the vampire plummeted.
Instead of flying, hit the ice hard and rolled onto his back. “Okay, okay. Izvinit , Rasputin. That clearly didn’t work—and I hope that meant I’m sorry.”
Minutes later, an anxious Rasputin was down at the shoreline shouting as the vampire slowly found his footing on the swaying ice. The look of concern on the monk’s face vanished as super-sped to land, joining his friend safely ashore. “Oh, guess we can do that, too. Going fast. Um, uh, no idea how to say that in Russian. Vampir .”
Rasputin nodded, tapping his hands against his own sternum. “ Vampir .” couldn’t help but notice the hopeful twinkle in his human friend’s eyes.
“Maybe I’ll call it a night after that. I suggest we keep all of this—including that little accident of mine—between friends, eh?” chuckled as he patted his friend on the back. “I am going to sleep now. Bedtime. Da svidania. ”
“ Da svidania,” repeated Rasputin, but there was a look of crushed dreams in the man’s eyes that couldn’t ignore.
“Oh, but before I go,” the vampire began, rummaging through his pockets. “I’ve got a small gift for you.”
The vampire pulled out a small glass vial with a cork lid, the contents of which were a thick crimson fluid. “Gift?” Rasputin asked.
“Gift,” nodded. “Um, vampir .”
“ Vampir?” Rasputin asked, taking the vial.
“Yes,” said the vampire. “Before death, drink this. Then, um, vampir .”
“Be-before death?” Rasputin asked.
nodded, mimicking a gun with his hands and making gunfire noises. “If your fancy friends ever try to kill you—or you’re so bored of their droll parties that you just decide to shoot yourself—drink this first.” The vampire grabbed the vial from Rasputin, stumbling and grasping his chest as though he had been shot and was close to death. He fell to his knees and pretended to drink the contents of the container whole before collapsing in the snow and faking dead. “And you’ll become, um, vampir. ”
“ Vampir?” Rasputin nodded, a smile on his face as handed him back the vial.
“And a great one you’ll make, my friend,” replied . “I’ll look for you after your party.”
“ Da svidania ,” Rasputin said excitedly, tucking the vial away in his jacket.
“ Da svidania, ” repeated the vampire, wrapping Rasputin in a big, drunk hug before the two parted ways.
Back in the warmth of his cabin outside of Mystic Hollow, burst into an uncomfortable laugh. “ Me , try flying?” His mind raced with the fresh memories the conversation had stirred. “No way, blokes. I think those vamps were just leading me on.”
Pruitt’s eyes narrowed. “Sure. Whatever you say, Riah.”
“Uh, so, any other good magic weeds then?” the vampire asked, clearing his throat. “I grabbed a couple of the pretty purple ones ‘cause they reminded me of those little sparks that fly out of Griff’s hands when he’s grumpy.”
Griff’s voice filled ’s head. ?Aw, cute.?
The vampire managed a bashful grin.
“Well, looks like this is more deadly nightshade,” said Griff as he finished sorting through a small pile he had placed in front of him. He simultaneously scrolled through his phone. “Which, according to Witchipedia, can also be used in some healing spells, but I’ll have to do some further research.”
“And what about this last one here?” asked, pointing to a separate pile. “I pulled a bunch of it.”
“This?” Pruitt picked up the stem of a flowering plant to examine it. “Looks kind of familiar. I…”
was startled when Pruitt dropped the cutting to the table, emitting a low-pitched cry akin to a wolf in pain as he fell backward.
’s super speed saved Pruitt from smashing his head against the table. “Holy hell, you okay?”
Griff gasped. “Pruitt!?”
“I’m okay, but yikes.” Pruitt shook his head as guided him into a sitting position on the floor near the table. “Must be wolfsbane.”
“Wolfsbane?” Griff asked, looking back at the pile of flowering trimmings that remained unsorted on the table. “That’s a poison.”
“Yes,” Pruitt nodded, wiping sweat from his forehead. “It’s toxic to all werewolves.”
squeezed his werewolf lover’s shoulder. “Sorry, Pru. Missed the Surgeon General’s labeling, I guess.”
“Well, dang,” Griff began with a sigh. “Not a solution to help you with your mysterious bite, but that could come in handy, right?”
Pruitt nodded. “That it can, G. That it can.”