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8
Irving
Irving rejoiced in the cloudy weather. Since the previous night, he’d been tormented by the heartache of losing Sage and from finding out the only reason she had agreed to continue with the program was to avoid debt and destitution. He shouldn’t have been surprised by the lows to which Cameron would stoop out of ‘brotherly love’. It felt good to be able to get some cold, fresh air and clear his head. He ran through the streets, the forests, and, occasionally, through people’s backyards. The physical activity kept his mind distracted from Sage.
After six hours of running, Irving came to a halt in front of the crossroads leading to the hamlet of Eight Oaks. He swore when he saw the approaching sign.Why does the number eight have to be included in the name?he thought. Anxiety spiked in his chest. The sound of the knocks came to him, first as quiet thumps, then as crashing bangs. They were so loud they blotted out all other sounds in the vicinity, including the roar of a motorcyclist’s engine.
“Hey!” someone yelled. “Get off the road!” In a dazed state, Irving looked up to see a man dressed in black and wearing a neon green helmet perched on his bike and staring at Irving as though he was a madman who’d just escaped an asylum. “Are you gonna get out of my way or what?” the man shouted in frustration.
Irving muttered an apology and sauntered off to the side of the road, where he fell to his knees, his hands covering his ears. “Stop!” he shouted. The knocks continued to pound painfully in his skull. His head felt as though it was going to explode from the ferocity of the sounds. When at last the inner turmoil was over, Irving found himself shrunken beneath a pile of his clothes. He’d turned into a bat.
“Blast it!” he squeaked. “My nerves have reduced me to a winged rodent.” Before meeting Sage, it hadn’t been uncommon for Irving to literally go batty. Whenever his OCD climaxed, he’d unintentionally transform. The reflex was one every vampire possessed, though, it was unusual for it to happen so frequently and without control. Having Sage in his life had helped him deal with the chaos that dwelled in his mind, preventing him from becoming a bat.
Dammit!he cursed. He struggled to untangle his wings from his clothing and coat. When at last he flapped free, he took a moment to mourn the loss of his best running shoes.Now what am I supposed to wear on my feet when I go running… Galoshes?
The only way Irving would be able to transform is if his anxiety calmed down. The sooner he returned to the Church and Chapel Funeral Home, the better. He would rather not risk transforming back to human form in public without clothes. His brothers frowned on that behavior, as it usually drew undue attention. To his embarrassment, upon his arrival he was forced to scratch on the window of his brother’s office to get in.
“Poor thing,” Cameron cooed after sliding open the window. “It would seem your nerves have gotten the better of you yet again.”
“Shut up and get me some clothes!” Irving demanded. He’d hidden behind his brother’s desk to transform in an attempt to hide his nakedness.
Cameron scowled. “You’re so rude! Honestly, would it kill you to say please once in a while? It’s not as if I haven’t seen you naked for centuries.” His brother left the office mumbling curses under his breath. He returned momentarily, placing a pile of clothes just inside the entrance of the room. “Once you’ve changed, meet me down in the embalming room. It may have slipped your mind, but we’re holding the funeral for Sage’s dearly departed husband tomorrow. Blake picked up the body from the morgue earlier today. Mark is resting on a table downstairs, awaiting to be prepared by your nimble hands.”
A yelp of despair escaped Irving’s lips as he fastened the buttons of his waistcoat. The mere mention of Sage sent his insides squirming as though he’d drank a bad batch of blood.
“I figured that would be your reaction,” Cameron said from outside the office. “There’s another body that needs embalming. You handle that one and I’ll take care of Mark.” Irving muttered his thanks. “I’ll do anything if it keeps you off the ceiling,” his brother remarked. “I’m tired of having to climb up there to mop up your footprints.”
Normally, Irving handled most of the embalming at the Church and Chapel funeral home. When it came to interacting with others, especially mortals, he left that job to his brothers. Preparing the dead for their viewings was a task that eased his tension. Instead of fretting over trivial things, he could distract his mind by carefully injecting subjects with arterial solutions.
Moreover, he didn’t have to worry about what dead people thought of him. Corpses weren’t capable of casting judgement. All they could do was lie still and stare vacantly. They were vulnerable--even more so than Irving. People were unpredictable and forever changing, both in appearance and personality. This is why he preferred the company of the dead to the company of living beings: because dead people couldn’t stop being dead. He could exert his meticulousness on a subject that was eternally unchanging. It was for these reasons that he’d gone into the funeral industry.
Irving sighed morosely as he worked. The incessant sounds of sorrow he produced seemed to be getting on his brother’s nerves. “Oh, cheer up, would you!” he cried. “It doesn’t matter how miserable you are, it won’t bring Sage back.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Irving retorted. “I can’t help wallowing in melancholy. If I had a choice, I would choose to be joyful. Emotions don’t work like that.”
Cameron hummed in understanding. “It’s funny,” he started, “since becoming immortal, we’ve acquired bodies immune to damage and disease. We’re athletically gifted; we can’t age, and yet, our minds remain just as delicate as they were when we were human.”
His brother was right. If anything, the state of Irving’s mind was worse as a vampire. He stared at the wrinkled mound of broken flesh that occupied the steel table before him. It was a shell that had once held a soul. Now that soul was free. Whatever pain, both physical and emotional, that the person had felt while they were alive no longer mattered. “Cameron,” Irving said, softly.
“What is it?”
“Do you ever wish you were mortal?”
Cameron took a deep breath before responding with more depth than he usually cared to display. “Of course I do,” he said. “No vampire enjoys watching their loved ones die while they live on. Indeed, immortality is as much a curse as it is a gift. That’s why you can’t get too attached to humans. That’s why we started the Fang Club. Those mortal participants join the club to experience the vampire fantasy. They aren’t in it for the long run. Why do you think we hold annual matchmaking events?” Cameron flashed his bewitching smile, switching back to the persona he was best known for - charming and none too serious. “Besides, variety is the spice of life.”
Irving had never been interested in yearly flings. In retrospect, a year was nothing. What was the point in having a relationship if it wasn’t going to last? Every individual he’d ever come to care for, save for his brothers, had aged and died, just as they were meant to. It was no wonder Sage didn’t want to be with an immortal vampire. If there was one thing humans didn’t like, it was to be reminded of the fact that they were eventually going to die. The idea of having someone to be with during the aging process was a comfort, or, at least, Irving assumed it was a comfort.
In a state of unease, Irving removed his shoes and scaled the walls of his office as easily as a spider. Ever since Sage’s rejection, Irving had felt a terrible empty pain in his chest. Nothing seemed to ease it. The embalming he’d done had failed to direct his attention away from her. He was as miserable and tormented as ever.
What have I done to deserve this anguish?he thought as he hung upside down. For the brief moment that he’d spent in Sage’s company, Irving had found some relief from his pain. But now that she knew the truth, he was again doomed to spend eternity carrying on with his compulsions.I ought to end this once and for all and drive a wooden stake through my heart,Irving thought, helplessly.Then at least I’d be able to see Aiken, presuming there’s an afterlife, and one for vampires at that.
Even after living for as long as he had, Irving was clueless as to what the meaning of his existence was. He questioned why he’d been allowed to live, while Aiken had died. These thoughts circled in an endless loop within his head until he came to the same conclusion that he always did: Aiken had been lucky to die.
The longer Irving remained fixed to the ceiling, the worse he felt. He found this odd, as normally hanging upside down was a soothing activity for him, embalming too. But, for whatever reason, the ache he felt inside refused to budge. Irving felt as though he was staring into a void and he feared the void would swallow him whole. The discomfort was like none he’d ever experienced before. It seemed avoiding it was futile.
All the horrible feelings he’d ever felt were festering within him, desperate to rear their ugly heads. No more could he contain the emotions that he’d worked so arduously to suppress. Sage’s unacceptance toward his vampirism had been the catalyst. Irving took a deep staggering breath as he realized the emotion that had taken hold inside him, an emotion that he had managed to evade for over four hundred years…. love. No wonder the saying went, how sweet the sorrow.
