An Englishman Abroad - Chapter One
Knew I'd forgotten something. They call me a bloodsucker. I have, at my best, nothing on these little demons. Even being vamped hasn't stopped the little sods from dining on that perennial favourite, 'Englishman abroad'. But it's rather difficult to pack Jungle Formula in a coffin. Bad enough to have to use nicotine patches, but security, even on air shipping the dead, is tighter these days.
And I have to take more care than most of my fellow countrymen about the whole sunburn issue too. The ultimate sunblock given to that pillock and destroyed. I could have done with it getting out of the cargo area. But, hey, with a few bucks it wasn't hard to get to the international banks. I got enough cash to hire a Landrover in Nairobi. Drove down to the border by night, and across the border away from the crossing. A vampire doesn't need to worry 'bout lions and leopards, us predators have to stick together.
Shame can't take any pics though for the Niblet, she'd love it. Huge expanses of plains, enough wildebeest getting eaten to keep the BBC wildlife documentary export industry going for decades, and the great bulk of Kilimanjaro in the background. Love to climb it - but no way to keep out the sun on foot. Can't have everything. Course, right at the moment, it feels like I can't have anything.
But no broodage, that way lies hair that grows straight up and not this vamp! Gotta look at the positive. Lots of fresh blood on the hoof, somewhere I've never been before - which is always good. Gotta keep things fresh. Music full of great drumbeats - must send some tapes home and introduce the Niblet to World Music.
The beer - a great legacy of the British and German influence here, and a few bottles in the cooler makes a great sundowner. Could have done without digging out the landrover last night though. Clay's a bitch, even with vamp strength, and I could have well done without having to chip four inches of the stuff off the Docs, before I could drive again. I mean I wouldn't mind being taller - but not that way - prefer punk to glam rock.
But here it is - the village home of the last best hope of de-chipping (knew we shouldn't have watched the whelp's Babylon 5 collection last summer), without owing psychotic nerds, lawyers trying to organise the apocalypse, or dishonest surgeons.
Just a few miles from Olduvai Gorge - home of some of the oldest human ancestors they say on the telly. Must be the home of the oldest vamps too. Feels like it. All of me feels at home here. Makes me feel young actually, which is nice change.
The Slayer must have arisen here too. Appropriate, since that's why I'm here. Wonder if the shaman is one of the descendants of one of those who, the ancient legends of the Order of Aurelius say, created the Slayer to hunt us down?
Maybe, just hope he can do it. Need to be me - all of me. Need to be free. Need to help. Can't do that with some stupid bit of silicon in my head. So mozzie bites, clay encrusted boots, whatever tests I gotta go through here I am - bring it on!
The village was at the edge of one of the biggest volcanic craters I've ever seen. Pretty glad it must be extinct. The stars were so bright though. I've missed that in smogy, city lighted California. Dru would love 'em. Ngorongoro Crater - try saying that a few times after a few beers. Passed elephants, loads more bloody wildebeest, enough zebras to supply pedestrian crossings for half the UK, and even rhinos on the way there.
There was a bar with some great music coming out, and a beer and a chat about the football would be soo welcome right now. It's great! Man. U. has so many fans out here. Great to have a conversation about Becks and the lads prospects for the Champions League. Even better than the watcher, I mean Chelsea - come on! Can't talk about the footy with the whelp, he thinks rugby with padding that stops all the time is interesting - heathen. But gotta get this done, no sidetracks, however appealing. Last hut on the dirt track, directly by the walls of the crater, according to the directions.
***
The shaman, younger than I would have thought, but the eyes they were old, looked straight at me. You get used to that you know, mixing with other vampires - missed it.
"You think you know. What's to come, what you are… You haven't even begun."
Now that sounds familiar, think Red told me something with that in during the summer. Wish I could remember, maybe after some kip. "You speak English?"
"Of course, it helped a lot when I was studying in London. Of course I don't need to know your language to talk to you, not when I can touch your mind if I want to."
"Don't! It's weird enough when Red does it, don't want too many people in here. Too much up there as it is."
"It's why you are here, you think. To free your mind and body from a bit of plastic."
"Hey, top of the range silicon here mate, but freedom, yeah."
"What would you do for that?"
"What you want?"
"A promise to listen to a friend of mine if you pass the tests, oh and not to eat my friends and neighbours, even if you don't agree to his proposition. I know you are a gentleman of his word."
"Seems fair, done."
"Come, sit and we will begin. Hold her."
He passed me a skull. Seen plenty of those in my time. This one looked different though. Like those in the natural history documentaries on evolution. Brow ridges were heavier - though again, I tend to feel heavy brows on a regular basis. Felt powerful too.
"You feel her? Sineya, mother of all of us. For you and the woman you love twice over. The scientists of the west have found her, mitochondrial Eve, but we know her name. Mother of the children of the world. Mother of the First Slayer, Mother of the First Vampire. You will listen to her."
With that he put some herbs onto the fire. Here we go again. I mean I did Woodstock on acid blood, peyote down Mexico way, absinthe in Montmartre, and I'm from an era when the Queen was on Class A drugs. All lots of great anecdotes I am not supposed to tell the Nibblet, coz drugs are bad, just say no.
***
I stared at the fossil skull. The smoke and fumes blended to form deep brown eyes that seemed to lock me in place. The view shifted from a dark, smoky hut to open plains, beside a shallow lake, under a harsh sun. Nice to see the sun in a non-combusting sort of way, haven't felt it since the whole Gem of Amara debacle. But I couldn't just see I knew, bone deep, what I was seeing, and what the woman whose eyes I was seeing through felt.
Three girls: Oldest daughter playing with a sharpened wooden spear, running around, looking around; Middle daughter, responsible, holding a skin, gathering plants like Mother; Baby, in Mother's arms, thumb in mouth.
Seasons shift.
Oldest daughter becomes a woman, gets a name - Lilit - still out to hunt, to see what was over the next hill, not interested in settling down with the men who would mate with her, wanting no constraint.
Middle daughter, looking after Baby, wanting to love and take care of her. Baby still a child, loving Mother and her sisters.
Mother sad for the lost sons but happy with her three girls. Happy that the monsters the ancients stories told of were no longer around hunting them. Animals they could cope with, the monsters no. But the monsters had mostly gone by themselves.
Then the coming of the last monster, green bone plates round its face, red eyes, mindless savagery. Lilit tries to fight it. It savages her, but she wounds it. Too late, its blood trickles into her open wounds. The tribe destroys the monster, and gathers around its lost daughter.
She rises, changed. Fangs, yellow eyes, strange brow, and thirst for blood, blended with the monster. The tribe knows not what to do. They lose their own people, lose people from other tribes. Some changed, some consumed.
Powerful ones of the tribes gather. Bring their magic together. Pull out some of the spirit animating Lilit. Put it into a warrior.
Middle daughter becomes a woman during the days long rituals. She becomes the warrior. Her name now only her function - Slayer. Only existing in hunting those changed by her sister, in the blood-cry. Only the need to protect remaining from Middle daughter.
Mother weeps, Baby kisses Slayer's wounds better but is rebuffed.
Baby gets older. Slayer keeps down the children of Lilit, but can never wipe them out, always hunting, losing who she was. Only the hunt, always alone, always missing something.
Baby becomes a woman, mates, and has children of her own. The Children of Lilit consume others, so many other humans. Only Slayer's tribe thrives. Slayer is killed by Lilit. Her own Baby becomes Slayer.
Over the generations Slayers appear only among her line. As Slayer's keep the people alive, her children are sought out as mates and spread. Others are consumed, until only Mother's children survive.
Mother weeps for all her children.
***
I get thrust out, back to myself. I look at the skull. Below the empty eye sockets there is a crystalline tear. "Bloody Hell! Intense. So what now" I ask the Shaman.
"Swallow the tear. That is the first step. You have been shown the past, who we are."
I do. It burns, it cleanses.
"Drink this, it's cows blood, I think you need it. It's what we drink with milk, but I expect you wouldn't want a shake. Then I think you need a break, go along to the bar and I will call you."
Not sure how long I was out but the blood was most definitely welcome. Still felt a bit spacey so I walked rather than drove back to the bar. Getting some air cleared my head a bit. Got to the wooden building, with the music blaring, and the wonderful scent of beer. I pushed the door open, and now I know I'm stoned.
"Giles?????"