The Tale of Nicholai Creighton

Bee

Chapter 1: The Arch-Angel Aranael

His name was Nicholai Creighton. A materialistic librarian, this gentleman had a confused air about him. His form was rather thin. He had long, straight, smoke gray hair with bangs artistically framing his face. His round eyes were moss green and he had prominent cheekbones and thick eyebrows. His skin would normally be the harshest of crimsons, like an open wound, and his hair a stark obsidian, but he didn’t think that the school would have hired him in that appearance. So he changed his looks with simple glamour that would fool the humans and altered his wardrobe to a suitable if sometimes risqué fashion that deftly modeled the later centuries. It was no secret that he was unspeakably gorgeous, yet a bit wacky at times by the other staff’s standards.

He’d come to be a high school librarian by unusual means. The “cult” –as it was aptly known today—that he’d been a leader of at one point had thrown him out of the circle once they’d discovered his affinity for humans, human boys in particular. That damned Armand Cole, another higher power vampire, had been the one to supervise his expulsion. They’d banned him to the mortal world and forced him to live in a little piece of shit town somewhere in the southeast of Michigan. He’d happened upon Roosevelt and it fell upon him like a ton of bricks, but a miracle none-the-less.

Nicholai sought out at first to teach the pathetic students a thing or two about literature in a formal classroom setting, but since he did not have the credentials of a college degree required to be in the field of teaching—never mind that he’d lived over a millennia—he settled for school librarian. The last librarian had been looking to retire anyways as she had been getting along in her years. How he envied the humans and they’re ability to age so quickly.

So now he was here, a resident of the shit-hole community for five years now and responsible for almost all of the “mysterious” deaths in the area. Nobody seemed to connect him to the sudden rise though, so he didn’t bother to worry about it. A lot of the deaths involved younger men in their peaking twenties, or men in their forties suffering through a mid-life crisis. Both ages were equally appealing and easily accessible to Nicholai. Somehow it seemed that blood was made sweeter by the ages that were more likely to indulge in frequent alcohol. Nothing tasted quite as exquisite as the blood of the young and innocent though, but his affinity for younger boys made it near impossible to indulge in these frequent fantasies.

He leaned forward in his stool, a posture most unbecoming of a vampire of his status, but he was alone in the very quiet and peaceful library, and frankly did not give a damn. He was getting hungry now and it was an inconvenient time to suffer the nausea and headaches that came with the famishes. He checked the clock again and felt like weeping because the hands had barely even moved since he’d last checked fitfully. Barely halfway through the school day yet.

Nicholai immediately straightened his back when he heard the familiar squeak of the library door and the barely audible grunt of protest as the ignorant student was halted suddenly by the “fucked-up” door. Nicholai guessed that it was a late junior or a senior and laughed to himself. How long would it take the brats to remember that the second door never opened all the way? He’d lost count of the number of students, as well as teachers, that had either ran into it, fallen over, or lost their armload—which Nicholai immediately went to the aid of.

“Can I help you?” He asked in the smooth, silky, quiet undertone that hissed some ancient language beneath that compelled lesser species to fall in love with him. It was a magical tool used to lure in prey.

“Um…I’m looking for some material to use on my research project.” When the student spoke, Nicholai blanched for a moment. He’d been so sure that it was a flat chested female, but before him stood a slightly blushing, very effimate male.

“What kind of material are you looking for?” He was sure that he’d seen the boy somewhere before but couldn’t quite place him.

The effects of Nicholai’s voice seemed to fade away and the boy came back to himself, straightening his posture and setting his books on a nearby table. “I have a pass,” He explained. “I’m looking for reference books on Vampirism.”

Bingo. Nicholai thought and smiled his most charming smile at the sure-footed student. “Well…” He trailed off searching for a name to go with the boyish face.

“Aranael,” The boy offered politely with a small smile. He seemed uncertain on the surface but Nicholai could tell that he was a social person, perhaps even a little bold.

“Yes, Aranael,” He repeated to be sure. An angels name, but from what religion he could not remember. It was pretty anyways and fit the boy’s looks exactly. “Well I’m not sure that we have anything extensive in the reference books other than a few gaudy tales of Dracula in this library, but I would be more than happy to help you look.”

“I’d appreciate it greatly…” The boy trailed off now and laughed to cover up his embarrassment.

“Mr. Creighton,” Nicholai offered. “I don’t believe that I have ever seen you in the library.” Aranael faltered for a moment and cast an uncomfortable, slightly embarrassed look down at the horrid carpeting the library hosted. Oops, Nicholai thought. I must have said something wrong.

“I’m in the library every day after school,” the pale boy explained. Suddenly Nicholai remembered where he had seen the pale, unearthly looking boy.

“Yes! I remember now!” Nicholai exclaimed with perhaps too much excitement as he led Aranael over to one of the reference computers. “I’ve heard a few of the other arrogant kids pick on you.”

“Yes,” The boy agreed, blushing again, but this time in severely suppressed anger.

Nicholai caught the boy’s gaze from the corner of his mossy eyes. “You aren’t a fag, are you Aranael?” He questioned, smirking at the furious balls of his fists and the hateful crimson in the cheekbones.

“Excuse me Mr. Creighton, I think I’d bet—“

“No, you’re not a fag,” He agreed, catching the boy off guard, and turning back to the monitor. “That’s such a harsh word. I prefer to use ‘open and experimental’.” There, he’d successfully shocked the boy into silence now. “Ah! Bram Stokers’ Dracula.”

“That’s really going to provide me with a lot of good information,” Aranael muttered softly, following Nicholai in his swift strides to retrieve the book.

“Have you ever read this?” He asked, beaming when the boy shook his head in a negative answer. “Well here, sit down and read just a bit of it for me. You’d be surprised how accurate it really is,” He handed the thin book to Aranael and allowed his fingertips brief contact. The boy was beautiful.

Nicholai moved back behind the desk and Aranael took his seat at a table farthest from the wacky librarian. The vampire pretended to be interested in a book of his own—about the Renaissance, no doubt—while watching the boy from under his thick lashes.

Aranael had a vicious aura about him. His narrow eyes were the exact color of wine droplets, which Nicholai guessed to be contacts. He had waist-length, straight, honey-blond hair that was styled in a way reminiscent of trailing ribbons. His form was notably sleek, and he had very elegant hands.

He knew that the boy knew he was watching him. When it became too apparent, Aranael looked up from the book. “How is this accurate? It sounds like one big fairy tale.”

“Ah, but you’re wrong,” Nicholai replied. They did not have to speak loud given the distance between them because they were the only two in the library. “It is a true tale about the very first vampire.”
“And you know this how?”

“He’s my brother,” Nicholai replied listlessly shrugging his shoulders.

“Very funny,” Aranael gave a few huffs that could be considered fake, un-amused laughs, or erotic, steamy gasps of air. Either way it both amused and aroused Nicholai. He was very hungry, and this boy looked oh-so tasty.

“That’s the thing about you humans,” Nicholai sighed, feigning exasperation. “I can be as straightforward as possible,” He stood and punctuated each word with a step towards the table that Aranael was seated at. “But it always slips right through your puny minds.” He had leaned over the table and was smiling perhaps a little to close to the boy. His magic words seemed to have little effect on this human boy, but it was enough to hold the severe eyes on his.

“Sure. You’re Dracula’s brother and I’m the King of Scotland.”

“No, but your great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great Grandfather was.”

“Liar.”

“I know,” Nicholai smirked. He was a little smug, a little contemplative, and a little torn. “I’m terrible at it aren’t I?”

“So tell me something believable,” Aranael demanded, slowly loosing his sure-footedness.

“You look like an angel as your gentle name implies, and I feel sacrilegious just for standing so close to such ethereal beauty.” His mossy eyes showed no humor, but inside he was tickled with the effect his words mingled with the magic had on the human boy.

“Unbelievable,” Aranael insisted, breaking eye contact, and the magic was lost again.

“You’re blushing again,” Nicholai insisted, having a seat across the table. “But on another topic, what is it that you wish to know about vampires?”

Aranael rested his forehead against the palm of one elegant hand and for the first time Nicholai noticed that the nails were a little longer than normal and painted a smooth slivery color. “If they exist and if I can find them.”

Nicholai was surprised at this. The boy wasn’t drunk, off his rocker or induced into a lustful coma, yet he desired to meet the vampires. Of his own free will? “Why would you want to do a thing like that? A pretty boy like you would get eaten up in a heartbeat, surely you know that?”

“I want to see what it is like to belong to another world, a world where I can have some semblance of power. I would like just a glimpse, then I would gladly die,” The honey-blond refused to meet Nicholai’s eyes.

This kid is just way too fucked up, he thought, running a hand through his own hair. “You want to be a Vampire?” He asked, just to be sure.

Aranael nodded.

“What makes you think that being a vampire is so great?”

“I don’t know, maybe the control they have over people?”

“There are vampires that control vampires too you know.”

“That’s different,” Aranael protested.

“It is not any different,” The librarian insisted. “If I were to turn you right now, I would have complete and total control over your mind and body. I could bid you to do as I pleased. I could break you so easily that your few moments in the life of a Vampire would be more horrendous than the seventeen years you’ve spent as a human!”

“You really are a Vampire?” The boy met his gaze now.

“Perhaps,” Nicholai crossed his arms in a very childlike way across his chest. “It is of no concern to you what I am or am not.”

“You’re not human, that’s for sure,” Aranael insisted. “You’re color is looking quite off.

The vampire gasped and ran into the back room behind the librarian’s desk. The small mirror there showed that some of the crimson of his skin was beginning to show through. Damn the boy for making him put down his guard. I did tell him that I was Dracula’s brother though, he thought as he effortlessly patched up his glamour.

When he returned to the main portion of the library, the angel-boy was gone.