Nosuë: The Wandering Vampire

“Stop moving, Ronald,” I asked for the umpteenth time.

He winced and put his hand back on Taneka’s shoulder, who sighed patiently with a mischievous little smile.

“It’s hard, this posing thing,” the man commented guiltily.

“Well, imagine painting the posers,” I replied.

The happy couple laughed, sitting on the sofa covered with a silky burgundy-red sheet. Ronald stood on the arm of the furniture, a little taller than his wife, who, perched demurely beside him, remained slightly cocked to one side.

They were dressed elegantly, the best clothes they had, because, they said, they wanted to keep that image for their children to see in their old age.

Taneka was a few months pregnant. The dress concealed the slight curve of her belly.

Again, Ronald’s hand moved a little, and his fingers fumbled with a couple of curls that escaped from the bun in which Taneka tied her thick hair.

“Ronald...” I groaned.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. How much longer?”

“We’ve just started. Be patient.”

“Oh, this is so boring.”

“Stop fidgeting.”

“I’ve seen you make paintings so fast.”

“Landscapes, images that come out of my imagination. Not portraits. Portraits need a lot more observation.”

Ronald sighed. He would probably have preferred to be revising his manuscript before sending it to the city publisher, but he wanted that portrait too.

It was actually Taneka’s idea, and luckily she did manage to keep still.

“What name should we give it? “the woman asked suddenly. “Nosuë?”

“I beg your pardon?” I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

“Can you help us with the name? We have some doubts.”

“And you want me to help you?”

She smiled.

“Of course,” she nodded, very sure.

I blinked and stared at them both.

The time I had spent with them was getting longer and longer. I had been in their house for a year now. They had given me everything I had: the clothes I wore, the paint I used. They claimed they were satisfied with my company and the paintings that decorated their living room and bedroom.

“Of course,” I finally agreed, after a few moments of hesitation.

“If it’s a girl, I want to name her Rosmerta,” explained Taneka as Ronald snorted. “My husband wants to name her Rosalinda. What do you think?”

I didn’t like either name, but I couldn’t answer that.

“Can you think of a better option, mate?” Ronald asked.

Mate. Lately that’s what he’d been calling me… except when he called me ‘brother’.

I had brothers once. Several of them. But they were all dead.

“Personally, if it were a girl, I’d call her Castia,” I said.

“Castia!” Taneka exclaimed. “It’s pretty. Does it have any meaning?”

“Well, it’s my birth mother’s name.”

“That’s perfect! Then Castia it is.”

“That’s just my opinion.”

“And a very good one. What if it’s a boy?”

I hesitated. Why was I choosing the name of the Littyans’ future child? Why was I being given that choice?

“Eriol,” I said. “I heard it a few decades ago in a faraway town and thought it was an interesting name.”

“Better than Rosberto!” exclaimed Ronald with a chuckle.

“Oh, don’t be impertinent!” she complained, but smiled.

It was nice to see them so calm, so happy.

They were going to have a child. Boy or girl, it didn’t matter. It was the natural course of a human’s life: to be born, to grow up, to mate, to have children, to grow old and die.

I didn’t envy it. Someday, perhaps, I would turn one of these humans into someone like me. My own puppy, somewhere, some time. If I could find the right person, for sure, because I could turn anyone I wanted, as many vampires did, but I had been raised to look for someone special.

Ritz, my sire, found that special someone in me. I wanted to have the same.

“Nosuë?”

I looked up and saw that they were no longer laughing, but looking at me.

“I was distracted,” I apologised. “I’m trying to paint, remember?”

“I wanted to ask you a question,” Ronald repeated.

“Go ahead.”

“Wouldn’t you like to stay with us… forever?”

I frowned. I knew he meant it, with complete and utter sincerity.

“Don’t be silly, Ronald,” I replied bitterly. “You are going to have a child. How are you going to explain to them that there’s a parasite in the attic?”

“You’re not a parasite!” Taneka complained.

“It doesn’t matter. A vampire. A perpetual guest. You will have this child, and then you will have more, and those children will have children of their own. You will form a family that will grow and grow old, and sooner or later you too will die while I stay as I am and watch you pass.”

“You said that was natural for you,” Ronald reasoned.

“Yes, that’s natural, but how can I always live here in your house? I refuse to always be a guest.”

“Why don’t you become a professional painter?” Taneka asked.

“What?”

“Do it. Why not? There are many eccentric painters in the world, one more wouldn’t attract much attention.”

“Eccentric like what?”

“Eccentric like a pen name, nocturnal habits, unwilling to receive visitors, living away from society.”

I frowned.

“Come on, why not?” the woman insisted. “An artistic gift passed down from father to son, that’s what people will see. But it will be you, always, behind the pen name as a painter. And the house, a home where you can stay, where they always believe the children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren of this artist live.”

“But I can’t become a painter,” I said, puzzled.

“You haven’t tried. Come on! Ronald and I have friends, we can give you some contacts, maybe get you some exhibitions. You know you paint well, Nosuë, your art is exquisite. Why not use it to earn money and freedom?”

I hesitated, looking at them. Ronald was nodding at his wife’s every word.

At that moment I knew it was by no means a casual conversation. They had talked about it behind my back… and very far from my ears.

And I loved it.

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