The moon rises, proud and high in the sky. We're on a lonely road cutting through a desert with a name that sounds like legend—The Desert of Broken Hearts. Liora had never seen a desert before. She likes it. It's a reddish desert—but of course, that red dirt can only be seen during the day. And that saddens her a little. Well, not just that. Sure, it's a bummer not being able to admire this place in all its glory. But what really drags her into melancholy is something else. What truly weighs on her, what keeps gnawing at her from the inside, is the constant reminder of all the things she can't do. To be precise: what truly breaks Liora is every single limitation that comes with being a vampire.
Not long ago, Liora and I had this conversation:
"These are just temporary limitations," I told her.
"Temporary? Aren't we going to be vampires forever, sir?"
"Of course we are. But look, there are levels. And the higher we climb, the more power we gain, the more doors will open, and the fewer limits we'll have. I think we might even reach a point where we can control the very matter the universe is made of. Come on, kiddo, I'm pretty sure this is just like a video game."
"A video game? What's that, sir?"
"It's a game you play on a screen. Sometimes on a TV, sometimes on a computer. Even on a phone. And in those games you need to..." I paused. "No. Forget it."
"Future stuff, sir?"
"Future stuff."
"I like that."
"What?"
"Knowing I'll get to see the future. That's one of the good things about being a vampire—living long enough."
"Not just long enough, Liora. We live forever."
"I don't think I'll live forever, sir."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not like you."
"If I live forever, you'll be by my side—and that means you'll live forever too."
"I don't think so, sir. You're a powerful vampire. I'll never be one. You'll open all those doors you're talking about, leave behind the limitations. But I won't."
"You're stronger now."
"Thanks to you. But you're strong on your own. You could live just fine without me, sir. I couldn't without you."
"Hey, don't say that, girl. That makes it sound like you're a burden, and you're not. And come on, what's gotten into you, little mouse? Don't start getting all melancholic on me. You're reminding me of myself back in the days with Agnes—that demon bitch who wouldn't let me breathe unless I was glued to her side."
"You're not Agnes, sir."
"No. I'm not. Maybe I'm as powerful as she is now. But of course, I'm nothing like her."
"No. You're a good soul. You always try to teach me things. Even if I never really manage to learn much—because, you know, lack of pedigree. My bad luck was being made by some low-grade vampire. I wish you had turned me. That would've been a dream come true. But it didn't happen. And that's why I'm nothing more than…"
"Hey, hey, hey. I already told you—enough with the melancholy. Don't go spiraling into useless sadness."
"Okay. Yeah. You're right."
"Hey, little girl—by the way. Would you like to go on a trip with me?"
"A trip? Leave Portuondo?"
"Yeah, that's usually what going on a trip means."
"But what about my recitals?"
Ah, yeah—I forgot to mention this. Liora's become something of a music star in Portuondo. Full-house recitals. They call her "The Mysterious Piano Girl" because she never gives interviews or talks to anyone. In fact, no one's ever even heard her voice. She just steps onto the stage, casts her spell on the piano, soaks up the applause, and vanishes. Now, she would like to interact more with humans. But come on—she's a vampire. And vampires don't interact with humans. If you get close to a human, it's to feed. Period. That's why, onstage, she's always alone. Always. She arrives right on time, doesn't say a word to anyone, plays the piano, and then poof—gone. Straight home. That's it.
All communication is done in writing. Liora has a manager. A fat lady who looks like Robin Williams dressed as Mrs. Doubtfire. We communicate with her exclusively by letter. She's a great manager, by the way. Really good. And, of course, she wants Liora to be known throughout the country. Actually, she says Liora could be a global piano star. Liora gets really excited when she hears that. Well—when she reads it, I mean.
"A global star, sir! Can you believe it? Me! How strange it feels. Me, little Liora, a global star."
Of course it makes me happy to see her like that. But naturally, I have to slap that joy around a little and remind her we need to take it slow. Because, let's face it—we're vampires. We've got limits. What are we supposed to do, for example, when people start noticing she doesn't age? Sadly, her life as a piano star won't last long. And that breaks her. Ah, Liora, Liora, Liora. The girl can't quite shake off what she still carries from her pre-vampire days. She craves applause and human recognition. Humans, those miserable worms. I get it. But still—it's kind of stupid, isn't it? Why the hell would you want the praise of an inferior species? The admiration of your dinner? It's like humans begging for the approval of cows, chickens, and pigs. Whatever. I won't question Liora. She's free. She can want whatever the hell she wants. A global piano star? We'll see. But for now, I think we need a trip. A good old road trip—town to town, city to city. Not just to help Liora snap out of her melancholy, but because I feel like I need to do this. Like maybe this trip will help me unlock another hidden power. One that might finally, finally, lead me back to Irene. My sweet, beautiful Irene.
I said to Liora:
"We can cancel your recitals and reschedule them later."
"But there'll be penalties, sir."
"Remember I know how to hypnotize people, right? And I can do it from anywhere as long as they're in this city, yeah?"
Liora smiled and said:
"I've never left Portuondo, sir."
"Well, here's your chance, kiddo."
"Yes. I want to go on a trip with you, sir."
And here we are. On the road. Heading toward our fourth destination: a small, picturesque town called Luzerne. We always travel, of course, with our vampire guidebook. Because if you think there aren't vampires everywhere, you're dead wrong. We're everywhere. Even in the smallest towns. Sure, the vampires who live in small towns aren't big shots. But they're still vampires. At the end of the day. And yes, almost everywhere you'll find special lodgings for people like us—hotels, inns, roadside motels, all with vampire-friendly rooms. Iron shutters. Manual systems. Before dawn, you pull a lever and down come the reinforced metal panels, blocking out every last trace of sunlight. It's essential. You can't open a nighttime lodging if you don't meet those requirements. It's a serious offense. Punishable by death.
The car I'm driving is a beautiful '63 Buick Riviera. Yep—we're in 1963. On the radio, Be My Baby by The Ronettes is playing. That song always reminds me of an episode of The Wonder Years—"Ninth Grade Man"—when that loser Kevin Arnold, at the end of the episode, hugs Winnie at a pizzeria, and right at that moment Madeline shows up. Madeline, I remember that girl practically throwing herself at him in her underwear. God, what a loser that Kevin was. I hated that miserable bastard. I hated that damn show. But hey, what can I say? I didn't have internet as a kid. Back then, you had to put up with whatever was on TV. And that's what there was: a loser who, instead of enjoying both girls and then telling them to fuck off and moving on to the next, manages to lose them both like only a galactic-level dumbass could. Seriously, what an imbecile. A kid like that wouldn't have survived two hours in the neighborhood I grew up in. And honestly, he absolutely deserved it. He deserved to lose both girls. Kevin Arnold was just a pathetic little twerp. Anyway. The song ends, and Then He Kissed Me by The Crystals comes on. Now this is something else. This brings back the good memories. The beautiful ones—if you're a vampire like me who, when still human, spent a not-so-small chunk of life watching and reading fiction. This song takes me straight to GoodFellas by Martin Scorsese. Mobsters being mobsters. Tough guys. Real men. Henry Hill (Ray Liotta) and Karen (Lorraine Bracco) entering the Copacabana through the back door. Henry handing out cash like candy. Owning the place. Classy. Confident. A cool motherfucker. A good fella. Now those are the wonder memories.
We arrive in Luzerne. I'm starving. Can't wait to taste the humans in this tiny town. I ask Liora:
"You hungry?"
"Yes, sir. Very."
We drive past a beautiful house. We're in a wealthy neighborhood. Not rich, mind you. This is Luzerne—there are no rich people here. To put it in perspective: the middle class from Portuondo would be considered rich in this place. And obviously, the middle class from Miraverde would be Forbes-cover material here. But anyway, back to the house. Focus on the house. I can smell the residents. They smell delicious. Two teenage boys. A mom. A dad. Liora smells them too. She smiles. Her face says: "Yummy, yummy." That's our dinner. We'll be back for them soon.
Now we're heading to The Gloaming Inn, where our room is waiting.
We arrive. I park. And suddenly—I feel something strange. Liora feels it too.
"I don't think we should go in there, sir."
"We need a place to stay."
"We could feed on that family and sleep in their basement."
"What the hell, girl? Come on. You don't shit where you eat."
"I don't like this place, sir."
"Neither do I. But I think it's just the road. We've been on it too long. And besides, we're starving. That kind of hunger can mess with your senses—make you feel like something's wrong when it's not. Come on. Let's check in and get to the good part: blood, blood, blood."
Liora and I walk into The Gloaming Inn. And the moment the door shuts behind us, we hear the iron shutters crashing down, one by one—then, behind them, reinforced metal panels slide into place with a loud screech all over the building.
I look at the receptionist. A gaunt vampire. A corpse pretending to be alive. He looks like he hasn't rested in years.
I say:
"What the hell's going on? It's still hours before dawn. It's still night."
And he replies:
"Not anymore, sir. It's daytime now. And it'll never be night again."