By John Cosper

Ernie Randall switched the smoothie machine off and poured the otter blood milkshake into his favorite tumbler. Pausing to sniff the frothy pink concoction, as was his custom, the deceptively young looking man (who could pass for a very svelte fifty-five) moved coolly from the kitchen to his quaint reading room. Having already clicked through TiVo earlier and found that the best thing on TV re-runs of "Project Runway" and that blasted "Buffy" show, he had resigned himself to a quiet night of reading. Ernie picked up his newly arrived copy of this month's selection in Oprah's book club and settled into his La-Z-Boy chair. That's when the doorbell rang.

Ernie glanced at his watch to verify the date. October 29th, two days before Halloween and the only night a year he expected - and eagerly anticipated - his doorbell ringing. Ernie enjoyed the macabre ritual of children dressing in costume accosting strangers for candy. It brought back memories of safer times for his kind. Not that Ernie would ever indulge like he once did. It all seemed so vulgar now. But the monster within still felt wistful for those wicked days.

While Ernie enjoyed Halloween, he dreaded the doorbell ringing after sunset every other night of the year. It meant one of two things: Jehovah's Witnesses, and wannabes. A quick check through the peephole told him it was the latter. A boy and a girl this time, probably in their late teens. Both were pale with black eye and lip liner, dressed in the cliche black attire that made them conforming non-comformists. So Hollywood, both of them.

He let them wait, deciding whether to open the door or return quietly to his book. Truth be told the book didn't sound all that thrilling. Another story of a woman overcoming hardship to stand on her own two feet. He didn't know why he still subscribed. Some visitors would be a change of pace. He opened the door slowly, anticipating they would appreciate a little theater.

"Yes?" His English accent dripped like slow candle wax.

The teens shifted their feet, suddenly feeling an icy chill. They exchanged a glance, then the boy spoke. "We know who you are."

Ernie's expression did not change. "And?"

"And," the boy swallowed hard. The girl squeezed his arm, urging him to speak. She was clearly too frightened. "And we want to talk to you. We mean you no harm!"

"Of course you don't," said Ernie. They were too frightened to be a real threat anyway. "Perhaps you would like to come in?"

The children exchanged another look, then started together, keeping constant physical contact in a bid to keep from being separated. Ernie hid a smile as he escorted them into the reading room. They walked timidly, taking in the sights as all his visitors did: the antique bookshelves, the 19th century couch, the widescreen television, and the La-Z-Boy. The decor was unusual, but his young visitors first observation was no surprise to Ernie.

"No mirrors," the girl whispered.

"Please, have a seat," Ernie said sweetly. The teens sat close together on the antique couch. "May I offer you a drink?"

"What are you having?" the girl asked.

"A milkshake," he said.

"Is it strawberry?" she asked.

"Otter," he told her, prompting another take between the kids.

"Some water would be fine," the girl said. The boy concurred, and Ernie left to get their drinks. He took his time, allowing the kids a moment to take in their surroundings before he brought them two tall glasses of ice water. Ernie picked his milkshake back up and sat back in the La-Z-Boy.

"So," he said. "What shall we talk about?" The kids sat silent, sipping their drink. He caught the girl nudging the boy's arm once more, wishing him to do the talking. "Oh come now. I let you in for some conversation. If I wanted silence, I could have started my book."

The boy set his glass on the table before him. "So... you're a vampire?"

Ernie sipped his milkshake. "We established that at the door, didn't we?"

The boy smiles at Ernie, then his companion. "What's your name?"

"Ernie Randall," he said. "What's yours?"

The boy's smile sank. "Ernie? You're not a count or anything?"

"Not a drop of noble blood in me," Ernie replied. "Well, not since the Bolshevik Revolution."

"Wow," the boy said. "That was in Russia."

"Very good." Ernie was impressed. He knew American schools were not the finest, but this boy at least seemed to have a brain. "You know your history."

"I love history," he said. "What was it like?"

"Russia? The revolution? It was a bloody mess," Ernie said. "Rampant crime, destruction of property, death everywhere."

"Must have been like a buffet," the boy piped in.

"There was no shortage at the table for me," Ernie said. "Wars are always good for hungry vamps. Dining is easy to come by, if one can avoid being killed."

"Killed?" the boy said. "You're a vampire!"

"And susceptible to more than wooden stakes," Ernie said.

"That's right." The girl was becoming more comfortable now. "You could die in the sun. Or a fire!"

"Or suffer broken bones, severed limbs, any number of injuries that would make my existence difficult. One of my dearest friends lost a leg in World War II. He made it through the war, but lasted a mere three months in peace time."

"Why?" the girl asked.

"Because a one-legged bloodsucker is a fairly easy suspect for the police to find," Ernie answered.

The girl nodded. "That makes sense. But you look good!"

"I've been fortunate," Ernie said. "Very fortunate."

"You've certainly done well," said the boy. "So... that drink. What's in it exactly?"

Ernie lifted the tumbler up. "Otter's blood, mixed with vanilla bean ice cream and a splash of milk."

"Is that good?" the boy asked.

"It's tasty," said Ernie. "I started experimenting a few years back. I make a very nice fruit drink with some tropical juices and cow blood, but lately, I've been on a milkshake kick."

"Is the otter as tasty as they say?" the girl asked.

Ernie smiled. "You watch that Angel show, don't you?"

"Yes!" she said. "And Buffy."

"Mm hmm," said Ernie. "I'll admit, I tried otter after the gag they did on the Angel show. It's got a kick to it that, well, I simply love. After more than five and a half centuries, one needs variety."

"Five and a half centuries??" the boy gasped. "You don't look it at all."

"That's the good side of eternal youth," Ernie said.

"How did it happen?" the boy went on. "You becoming a vampire, I mean."

"It was more or less about survival. Romania, 1470 was not the place to be human and vulernable."

The kids' eyes widened in recognition. "Romania, 1470? That means... you knew him!"

Ernie laughed. These were truly sharp kids. "Vlad the Impaler. Count Dracula. Yes, he's the one who sired me."

He caught the nudge from girl to boy. "Yes, I said sired, though I got it from television the same as you. It's much better than the word in vogue with my contemporaries, who prefer to call it being 'reborn.' Bit of a misnomer if you ask me."

"I like that word," said the boy. "Reborn. It's like you're born again into a whole new way of life."

It was enough to confirm Ernie's suspicions about why they were here. "That's why you've come, isn't it? To be reborn?'

The girl tensed up, clearly more frightened than her foolish friend. The boy bravely replied, "Yes. We'd both like that. Sir."

Ernie nodded, betraying no emotion. "What are your names?"

"They call me Raven," the boy said. "And she's called--"

"No, son," Ernie said. "I want your real names. I gave you mine."

The boy sighed. "Kevin. I'm Kevin."

"And you, my dear?"

The girl finally spoke. "I'm Allison."

"It's a delight to meet you both," Ernie said. "You're not the first to come to me with this request, though you are brighter and more enjoyable company than most. That said, I cannot help you."

The kids exchanged a worried look. "Why not?" Allison asked.

"Children," Ernie said, "What is it that appeals to you about the vampire life? Eternal youth? Eternal life?"

"Of course!" said Kevin. "All that, and so much more."

"So much more than you know," said Ernie. "Eternal youth sounds wonderful until you consider the downside."

"What downside?" asked Allison.

"The need to keep moving every few years. Finding a new home, a new identity. After all I can't exactly reveal my true age to the DMV, can I?"

"But you have help with that, right?" asked Kevin. "You know people who help when you need it."

"Vampires are solitary creatures," Ernie answered. "We don't exactly network. We're on our own, changing identities, getting fake ID's. Then of course there's the trouble of changing jobs every few years."

"Jobs?" Allison seemed truly afraid of the world.

"Yes, jobs," said Ernie.

"Why would you need that?" she asked.

"Take a look around you. Do you think I just crashed in one day, drained a family, and burned their corpses? I have a mortgage. I have a water bill, and electric. And cable TV. Everything your parents pay except the phone and Internet. Never saw the point in them."

"No Internet?" said Allison. "I couldn't live without Myspace."

"You won't exactly be 'living' if you become a vamp," Ernie said. "But if you're truly addicted, you better factor that into your job search."

"So," Kevin began, "What do you do?"

"I'm a blurb writer," said Ernie. "For books. Mostly harlequin novels." He reaches behind him to pull a cheap romance novel from the shelf, which he tossed to Allison.

"'A scintillating tale of love, evil, and the shadows where they intersect.'" Allison smiled. "That's so poetic."

"It's garbage," said Ernie. "And so's the book. But it pays the bills."

"You can't just get a better job?" Kevin asked.

"I've had many jobs," said Ernie. "I was Lugosi's research assistant on the original Dracula movie. I've also clerked convenience stores third shift. Frankly, I enjoyed the latter more. But no matter the job title, it's all a grind."

"Tell me about it," said Allison. "I serve ice cream for minimum wage."

"You get free food?" said Ernie.

Allison rolled her eyes. "Yeah, one item per shift. It's crap though."

"When you're a vamp," said Ernie, "A job that makes food easily accessible will be a blessing."

"I thought that was the easy part," said Kevin. "Getting food."

"You can't simply go around sucking the neck of any stranger you meet," Ernie corrected him. "Don't you kids watch CSI?"

Clearly, the kids had not thought about this. No one ever did. "Modern times are not good for the human feeder. Everyone's numbered in a computer. Your finger prints, your DNA. It's not like it was for Jack the Ripper, who could drop a hooker in the river and vanish."

"Jack the Ripper was a vamp?" Allison exclaimed.

"I thought that was rather obvious," said Ernie. "For us, it's irrelevant. You can't simply live on humans, children. The authorities will catch you. Even if you're not missing a limb. And if they don't, well, a careless vamp may be done in by his own kind, if they catch wind of it."

"Why's that?" asked Kevin.

"To keep our existence quiet of course," said Ernie.

"You could go some place less civilized," said Kevin. "The third world, war zones."

"Think, Kevin. Would you want to live in that world?" Ernie shook his head. "I'm still young in the flesh, but after five hundred years, I'd rather not return to the dark ages."

"So you don't eat humans?" asked Allison. "Ever?"

Ernie shook his head. "The last time human meal I had was at Woodstock." It was still rather vivid in his memory. A beautiful blonde art student high on acid practically threw herself into his arms. He hadn't taken two sips when the drugs and her body's reaction to his bite caused her to projectile vomit all over him. It was enough to curb anyone's appetite.

"I can understand why you drink animal blood," said Allison. "Even if it's not so tasty."

"Another misconception," said Ernie. "Some animals taste much better than humans. Some animals are better for the body too. And then, there's the guilt."

Once again, the kids reacted in surprise. "Yes, I said guilt. I'm not a demon that took over this body. I am an abomination, a damned soul forced to feed solely on the life force of other living things. My entire existence is dependent on the destruction of others. There's not a face in over five hundred years I don't recall. This is not the perfect life, children. It's anything but!"

"No," said Kevin. "No, no, no, you don't know how lucky you are. We can make this work. And thanks to you, we can do it right. No repeating mistakes."

"We bring others together," said Allison. "We'll network, use the Internet."

Ernie shook his head. "You two will be at each other's throats within a few years," Ernie told them. "Relationships aren't the same when you become a scavenger. Many have tried. All have failed. There's no doing it right. There is only hell."

"You don't know the hell we come from," said Allison. "You don't know what it's like for us living."

"You're right," said Ernie. "I've been dead too long to have any idea how it is. All I know is the searing pain that awaits you if you go through with your quest."

"You could let us find out for ourselves!" Allison was almost in tears.

"This isn't a thirty day trial," said Ernie. "It's an eternity in the hell. You will never again see the sun. You will never again know warmth. You will never again feel love. You will walk this Earth until it, or you, is destroyed. And after that..." Ernie shook his head. "Nothing."

The kids knew they were at a dead end. Nothing in their years of Anne Rice novels or Joss Whedon TV shows had prepared them for a philosophical vamp. Ernie knew the expressions on their faces from dozens before. And he knew what to tell them.

"You two have more going for you than you know," said Ernie. "Chief among your advantages, you have life, and death."

Their ears perked up at the mention of death. "Yes, death. One day you will leave this world behind. You have a lifetime that will be filled with ups as well as downs. You have the chance right here and now to resist the evil within you and do good. But no matter what the world might throw at you, in the end you have death, and a chance to be carried off to a better place."

"You mean... heaven?" said Allison.

Ernie didn't have an answer for that. "You're asking about things beyond my ability to say. For your sakes, I hope there is a heaven. And someone out there to show you how to reach it."

They sat in silence a moment, Ernie allowing the kids time to absorb his words. More talking would only dampen the moment, and the wisdom he hoped they caught. Finally, he stood. "It's time to go."

The kids took their cue, standing silently and following Ernie to the door. "If you don't mind my asking," said Allison upon reaching the door, "can we visit again?"

"I don't know," said Ernie. "As I said already, I'm a solitary creature."

"You let us in tonight," she countered. "Besides, what if we find heaven? Wouldn't you like to know where it is?"

Ernie didn't answer, but simply nodded. "Very well. Knock again if you wish. But do not be surprised or angry if I don't answer. Agreed?"

Allison nodded. Kevin said a parting word of thanks, then the kids set off into the dark night, leaving the vampire alone with his suburban house and thoughts.

It was true, Ernie would have loved to find a road of redemption, but centuries of darkness had cut the vampire off from anything good, pure, or holy. His only real basis for belief in goodness was his own evil. If this much badness was possible, there had to be light equal - or greater - out there. Looking at the pale children in their black costumes walking down the sidewalk, he sincerely hoped they would find it.

Ernie returned to the reading room and clicked on the TV, suddenly in the mood for the TV series mentioned so often during the last half hour. He flipped the television on, and clicked to the right channel just in time for a climax he'd seen many times before.

"Am I a thing worth saving, huh? Am I a righteous man?"

It was early Christmas morning. The vampire with a soul stood on the hill over the sunny California town, pleading with his lover to let him die with the sunrise. Like Ernie, he had committed a thousand atrocities: murder, stealing, lying, all done in the name of self-preservation. Ernie was evil, just like Angel.

And yet, the vampire on TV was spared. The sun failed to rise because of the pure, white, miraculous snow that blotted out it's death rays. The wretched sinner was spared by grace from above on Christmas morning.

"Hmph." Ernie turned the television off and reached for his book. The sooner the image was out of mind, the better. After all, it was only a TV show. And happy endings, Ernie reasoned, never happen in the real world.

Copyright 2006 by John Cosper