Adam's Story

I awakened some time later in a dark room. I could hear water dripping, the rustle of pages being turned and the scratching of a pen on paper. I was disoriented and my head was pounding. I groaned and tried to raise myself. As I lifted my arm I noticed that there were chains clasped firmly around my wrists and secured to the metal bed frame. I tugged forcefully at them testing the strength of the links. They were heavy and strong.

“I am sorry about that, Adam.”

I turned too quickly and felt a wave of dizziness overcome me. My eyes blurred momentarily and as they cleared I saw Mr. Sullner sitting at a roll top desk a few feet from me. He was wearing his reading glasses and holding a pen in one hand. The top of the desk was scattered with papers and leather bound tomes. The only light came from an old smoke stained oil lamp.

“Where am I?” I asked him.

“Still in New York.” Mr. Sullner put down his pen and turned his chair toward the bed. His eyes were sorrowful. “Do you remember what happened?”

I concentrated and found I remembered everything perfectly well. Everything up until the time I was attacked by the man Helena had called Lucian. After that, my memory became foggy.

I nodded at Mr. Sullner. He waited expectantly for the tale I didn’t want to tell.

After a long silence I asked how I had gotten here.

“Tom brought you,” he answered. “He found you unconscious in the drive and – seeing the marks on your neck – brought you to the only safe place he could think of. His family home.”

I felt a pang of shame at discovering that Mr. Sullner knew what had caused my wound. I had not thought of him or anything else when I accepted Helena’s offer. I had assumed I would be going with her wherever she went and would not have to explain my choice to Mr. Sullner. I felt totally responsible for all the events that had taken place.

“The Manor is gone, isn’t it?” I inquired unnecessarily.

Mr. Sullner nodded. “Along with thirty years of research.”

I couldn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. The only place that had ever felt like home to me - the place I had lived happily for the last five years of my life - was gone. And it was all my fault.

I mumbled an insignificant sorry.

Mr. Sullner took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “No matter. My research can continue. And you are safe. For now.”

I frowned at his choice of words. He ignored me and went on.

“Adam, I need to ask you some questions, and I need for you to be completely honest with me. Can you do that?”

Feeling I owed him that much, I nodded.

Mr. Sullner sat back and rummaged through a stack of papers on the desk. He held up a photograph with its back toward me and studied it. “Was it a woman who did that to you?” he ask.

I wasn’t sure if he was referring to the bite marks or the head wound. I considered for a moment, then said yes.

He raised his bushy eyebrows. “Is this her?”

As he showed the picture to me, I noted its age. It was yellow and frayed around the edges. At its center was a beautiful woman. She was dressed in a long gown and bustle popular in the eighteen hundreds. Her young face was enlightened with a carefree smile and her eyes glimmered with all the prospects of life that youth presented. Helena was even more stunning in her photograph than what she had been the first time I had seen her.

“Helena von Strauss,” Mr. Sullner announced. I nodded. “She was an actress from Nova Scotia, Canada. She was quite talented. Adored by all. But she gave up everything at the age of sixteen to be the consort of a rich Romanian theater owner, Lucian Vlasiescu. Not long after, they both disappeared.”

He showed me another photograph. This one had not been taken with a camera, but painted and copied. It looked like the page of a book. The man in it was perhaps twenty-five years old, yet seemed to carry the weight of many centuries. He had long hair and a ruffled shirt underneath an embroidered velvet jacket. His handsome features might have been more so if he were smiling, but his jaw was set in a determined sneer. In his eyes was the fierce look of a predator.

“He’s a vampire,” I breathed.

Mr. Sullner only nodded. “A very old one. This picture was made in 1724. Over two hundred years ago. Who knows how long he lived before it was crafted. That is the furthest back I have been able to trace him.”

I rested my head on the pillow. I was in pain. My entire right side hurt, especially my head.

Mr. Sullner continued. “As far as I have been able to tell, Lucian and Helena are the only two vampires currently in existence. Another has not been created in over a hundred years.”

He looked at me thoughtfully. “Adam,” he said slowly, “I would, with your permission, like to discover more about these fascinating creatures.”

I stared at him. I could not possibly understand how he could find any of this fascinating. I had always admired Mr. Sullner. He had been like a father to me and I had thought he looked on me as a son. I could not help but feel betrayed that he now saw me only as another one of his experiments.

“I only wish to run some tests on your blood to see what changes are occurring. I will do nothing without your consent.”

Taking into account all Mr. Sullner had done for me and all I had caused him to lose, I pushed aside my hurt and anger and nodded. Deep down, the scientist part of me that my mentor had honed for so long was curious.

Mr. Sullner retrieved a syringe and brought it over to me. I groaned when the needle pierced my skin. It felt as though there was acid in my veins and the seeping portion of my blood was drawing it from hiding, circulating it throughout my body. When the needle was removed and pressure applied, the pain abated.

His equipment put away, Mr. Sullner stood looking at me. He didn’t have to say anything. His eyes expressed his sympathy for me. And his inability to ease my suffering. I tried to convey my thanks for his gesture without words.