The Old

Nativity

Continued

“That is the shiniest laundry I’ve ever seen,” Seth noted, looking at the laundry basket Loreal had brought into the apartment.

Loreal laughed like a girl and her eyes shone. The light of Lewis’s apartment made her hair the color of red cinnamon.

“Seth, you’re silly sometimes. This was the only way I knew to carry all the gifts quickly. You’re looking different these days? What’s new?”

It did not for a moment occur to Seth to say he was sleeping with Chris and Lewis. Instead he said, “I’m talking to a dead guy named Nathan.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah.”

“So… is he nice?”

“Very. Kind of sad. As dead people who hang around tend to be. You know.”

Loreal shrugged.

“Speaking of dead people,” Seth said, helping her put the hamper on the bed, “which present is for me?”

“Really?” Loreal shook her head, and Seth’s face krinkled into a smile. She came to him and kissed her cousin on the nose.

“I figured as long as we were coming for this, we might as well stay for Christmas.”

“Here?” Seth said, looking around the studio doubtfully.

“There’s always room in the walk in closet,” Lewis said coming out of the kitchen with Chris.

“Well, I assumed Owen’s,” said Loreal. “Really, I don’t think I assumed anything. But I don’t plan on going back to Grandma’s house. and college is out. Mom isn’t going back to our old place. I might as well make home somewhere around here.”

The truth was, reading the journals, Loreal had learned more than she ever expected to about her family. She didn’t know how much Lewis and Owen already knew, and what would be a surprise, but she longed to talk to them about it, maybe even see if their knowledge could answer some holes left by Susanna.

The long tall Chris handed Loreal a glass of cherry wine, interrupting her thoughts, and while she nodded her thanks, he said, “I actually have an apartment which I keep paying for, and never stay in, and if you are looking for something private while you’re here, I’ll show it to you.”

“And if you are looking to be snuggled up with your family,” Lewis sat down placing his head on her shoulder, “Then you can always sleep in my closet.”

Just then there was a ragged, snarling voice accompanied by a banging on the door, and it screamed, “Let me in!”

“What the fuck?” Lewis said almost negligently.

Again, like the wolf coming for the three pigs, the voice growled, “Let me in.”

Chris frowned, approaching the door, but Lewis, unfazed, got up, opened the door without looking through the key hole, and gasped as he beheld Lawrence Malone, who entered the apartment, wild eyed, white faced, his mouth dripping with red blood, his fine clothes drenched in it. Lewis, who was past gasping or shouting, frowned to see that, held by his hair, was the dismembered and terrified head of a bespectacled white man.

Loreal rose to approach him.

“Laurie!” she said with a pity that held no fear. “Lawrence, what’s happened to you?”

The madness disappeared from Laurie’s eyes, and he turned to look at Loreal, suddenly looking like a young man that something awful had happened too, suddenly looking frightened. He didn’t want to be seen by her now. Not like this.

“Loreal…” his voice cracked. “What are you…?”

“Lawrence,” Chris demanded, coming forward, “What happened?”

“I have to go,” Laurie said, backing out of the room.

“Laurie,” Chris began again.

“Loreal, I’m so sorry,” she head his voice, but when she came out into the hallway, he was gone. She kept looking down the black hallway as if he would reappear, but then she pulled her head back into the apartment and looked to Lewis and Chris.

“Seth,” Lewis said, “Could you get me the bleach so I can clean up this blood?”

To become a Drinker, to realize that your life would never be like it was before the day you were bitten, was sometimes a misery, even if you wanted it. And Laurie was not sure he had wanted it. But the greatest gift to the Drinker was the gift of speed, better than all the new abilities that Chris had taught him in those first weeks. In his young days he could not walk the streets in the light of day. The littlest bit of sun burned his skin, and he fed all the time. In those days there were no police, and streets were filled with murderous killers who in turn he murderously killed. There was always plenty to eat.

But now he fed once in a week, and if he forgot, it could be a week and a half. Now he went to the beach in a Speedo and took in the sun. The only thing he needed still were the shades to protect his eyes. Night was always his element, and now it was night. He traveled so fast it was nearly out of time, so fast eyes could not see him, so quickly that his feet did not touch the earth. He never let the women he loved see these parts of him, and none of the woman he loved knew everything about him. No one, not even Veronica, had ever seen him kill, seen him mad and covered in blood, and now Loreal had seen it. And so now he entered his own apartment, the head still in his hand. He could not let go of the head. He would put it in a sack or something. Not ruin his carpet. He put down the head on the black stone floor of the huge foyer and began to undo his tie when suddenly he was aware of a presence.

“Light on,” Laurie said, though the lights were not necessary. The lights let his visitors know he knew they were there.

Out of the kitchen came a soft faced young man with chocolate colored hair and wide worried eyes.

“Dan?” Laurie wondered.

Dan Rawlinson. What would it be like to be killed by a vampire like him?

“We’ve been waiting for you?” Dan looked both worried and irritated. “Where the hell have you been, man?”

“We?” Laurie said.

But when Dan said we, Laurie didn’t really have to ask, and he wasn’t very surprised to see Anne with her tea colored hair or Sunny, looking like a California or, all in black, the compact, black form of Kruinh.

“Lawrence,” said his Master Kruinh’s voice, betraying no emotion as he gestured to the black stone floor and, nodding, Dan went to pick up the head, “what have you done?”

When Owen opened the doorto them, Seth had already called with the disturbing news, but said he and Loreal would probably be there before the night was over. The Christmas tree was up and large and shining with lights in the corner of the great room, and the house was decorated in red, gold and green. From the stereo, the Westminster Choir sang.

While by the sheep we watched at night
Glad tidings brought an angel bright

How great our joy
Great our joy!
Joy, joy, joy
Joy, joy, joy!
Praise we the Lord in Heaven on high!

“Uncle Uri!” Owen said, embracing the slightly older man. “Get in here. It’s cold. And who is this?” Owen’s voice was friendly, but the momentary glance he dealt Uriah was sharp.

“Kristian Strauss,” Kris said, offering his hand as Owen let him in and reached for his coat.

“Pleased to meet you, Sir.”

“Sir isn’t necessary. Owen will do.”

As Owen closed the door behind them and hung their coats on the tree, he said, “Have you all eaten?”

“We ate before we left Ohio,” Uriah said.

“Then I’ll get us some coffee, because I don’t think we’ll be going to bed anytime soon, and there is probably much to discuss.”

Owen wondered how much they would discuss now that his nephew, the younger brother of Lewis’s mother, had brought this strange albeit handsome and dimpled white man into their house, but he would soon see.

“Mr… Owen,” Kris said as they stood in the kitchen and he watched the two men making coffee and Owen frowned and said, “Cookies, definitely. Coffee by itself isn’t enough.

“Yes.”

“Your brother said that there was a family event occurring, but that I should be here for it. He said…”

“He said that?” Owen looked from his nephew to Kris.

Uriah and Owen looked of an age. In fact, Owen looked younger. Kris tried not to think of this, but think, instead, of the look on Owen’s face.

“If he was wrong,” Kris continued, “I will not intrude. I said the last word was with you.”

Owen looked at Kris carefully and said, “Please understand, it is not about you. I understand some people are funny and precious about their families, but by family event I don’t mean cookies and punch, or the annual sing-a-long. Only… I am surprised. Uriah told me nothing, and I wondered. It’s… you see… Let me finish what I’m doing.”

Owen quickly shut the drawer of the coffee maker and flipped the switch, then turned around.

“A long time ago I had friends. They were brother and sister, and we were all sitting at a table eating. Their brother came for a visit, and as they were talking they asked me to leave. They said it was family business. To this day I think that there was nothing that interesting in their family that they had to be so rude. But this family business… It is more than family business. And I wondered that my sister’s only son would so lightly bring someone. And of course he would not do so lightly. You must be here for a good reason, and I am getting my head around the whole thing.”

“Owen, I’m trying to pretend I’m not interested,” Kris said, “but the more you talk the more interested I become.

“See, Uri has known me a long time, and I don’t like to talk about it, but when I was young I had a really bad struggle with depression. I’m a Catholic. I mean, I grew up that way. It didn’t really hold anything for me. It was the window dressing my family was into. We went to this old beautiful church with all of these paintings of angels and saints and heaven and hell, and we were always promised that this religion, this mystery, was showing us what was beyond, what was the real shape of the world. But… it didn’t work for me, not really, and I thought, if there was something true, something spiritual, it wasn’t this. And I guess you could say there is part of me that has been looking for answers. That’s cliché, I know. But I mean the answers to what makes life…wondrous. Or… no, that’s not it, I’m getting it all wrong really. I know, I KNOW that this is an amazing universe, a… magical one… if that’s the right word. And Uriah told me if I came here and met you, then… I’m making a muddle of this. He told me I should be here.”

“Yes,” Owen said. “I see. Well, it’s no fault of yours for making a muddle of what, in fact, is a muddle. Yes, I see. If Uriah says you should be here, then I believe him, and you are welcome. I would say keep an open mind about what you see, but… having seen it, your mind will have no choice but to be opened. Forever. Possibly more than you ever wanted. There’s no getting around that.”