Lilitu

Stained pages flip in an open journal. Torn cover, missing introduction, hand signed dedication, faded red binding. The pages whip as the wind sails into the room from a gash in the wall. Memories dwell like pipe smoke in the air, all the time suffusing into absence. One man, one beast, holds some secrets that should be forgotten; but curiosity prevails and once opened, some books must be finished. Some stories want to be told.
Many a man storms the earth, but one man in particular commands attention for his actions, his morals. When first Uttuku appeared in Lilitu, the townspeople shuddered. They knew not why. The cold chills at night, the frigid wind on the shortening sunny days. They could feel his threat, a warning. The first day, May 6, sizzled with unusual heat. A golden sun blazed in the spring sky, beaming with unexpected strength. The town of Lilitu was dormant all day. No one noticed the dark, wide brimmed hat, the long black leather trench coat, or the thick confident boots that stepped into the streets. No one saw as he approached the abandoned theater building; the building with the half burned fourth story and the immense foreboding profile.
The first two stories smelled of mothballs and stale bread. Boarded, the windows let in very little light. Wiping cobwebs from the doorframe, Utukku glared around the first story. No sound escaped his mouth as he sighed. There was much work to be done, both on his new investment, and in the town. His eyes, a dark hue of red, darted across the cavernous lobby to the crumbling bar, the gaping crevice in the dance floor, the tilted “no entry” signs, the mound of rolled black carpet on the north wall, the oversized stage. Slowly, a grin pulled itself over his face.
Within two days of his arrival, the theater’s interior was recreated. Blackness covered the walls and the high ceilings. Strobes of light pierced the thickening fog with madness, and candles burned blue throughout the newly named “Flashing Crow.”
Three weeks passed before the club opened its large steel doors to a ravenous throng of rave-goers. Rumors spread about the mysterious man who owned the Flashing Crow. Some called him a demon; he was said to corrupt young Christian minds. Some called him a con; he was predicted to take the town’s money and run. In reality, he was much worse for the town.
The face of the building gleamed of fresh red paint. Only a single crow could be noticed as decoration. Its wings were comically large and it posed in the most peculiar manner. They were pointed unnaturally to the sky, drawn above, and bent crookedly in the center. The public scoffed; but once a month, people came. The Flashing Crow was only opened on the first Saturday of each month, every month except January. In January, it was closed, or would have been, if the club had survived until January.
The club’s owner, Utukku, was an individual of solitude. He was seen only by those to whom he chose to show himself; because of this, he became a man of myth. Each day he would rest inside of the club’s cellar. Each night would be spent roaming the streets. Besides one trip to a market, the man was severed from the city.
Two months after his unwelcome arrival, a decapitated body was found in the street outside the club. Upside down, the head rested awkwardly. Its blood was splattered over the building’s face. The left hand was missing, and the body already reeked of decay. The small crowd of officials covered the body, noted the notes of worth, and began cleaning up the mess while the rest of the town stayed inside their homes. Not one onlooker approached, save Utukku, who glared on with a look of reproach. By three in the afternoon, the body was gone and the mess of blood left no trace. The street was silent.
The silence of that night stirred no souls. Footsteps on the sidewalk awakened only the rats and roaches inside the piles of trash in the street. Utukku prowled in darkness. Again, with his trench coat and hat, he made way to a dark stone building in the center of town, tapped the small side door and immediately gained access to the inside. Beyond the old wooden entrance, lay an unwelcoming hallway. The narrow pathway was no longer than twenty yards. Utukku hurried inside. Darting through hallways and passages, he arrived suddenly at his destination. It was a large bedroom on the fourth level of the basement. No light entered from the outside world. Two candles, one on either side of the oversized bed, cast a wavering light on the entire chamber. Utukku’s footsteps made little noise as he slithered across the bare wooden floor. Standing beside the occupied bed, Utukku pushed aside a flap on his trench coat and allowed his fingers to clasp a dull wooden stake. There was no scream as he drove the stake into its heart. The body sizzled beneath the silk sheets. It dissolved and no trace was left. Another item appeared out of the shadow of his coat. This item was a vial of bright red fluid. Pouring its contents over the bed, Utukku slowly backed away. Seven seconds later, he was back outside the house, a house that was now on fire. Flames burst out of the open windows. Smoke billowed to the night sky. Utukku was gone.
The quiet town bustled the next morning. It was an overcast day with a cool breeze in the air and an uncomfortable paranoid silence among the citizens. Again, the soft buzz of the interrogation light was pointed toward the Flashing Crow. It was closed that day, like most days, and the gates outside were locked. Inside, Utukku slumbered. The disappearance of the city’s mayor disturbed the population. The elders of the town met that night to discuss their problems. The youths lined up outside the club, waiting to be welcomed inside. The eyelids of Utukku fluttered open, and he drifted up to the entrance to greet his guests.
The music started by the time the first guests strolled in. A hard, metallic beat torched the rag silence of the room. Fog rolled out of the rafters. Strobes danced in the darkness. Blue flames burst out of the black candles. The club filled with people. Bottles of alcohol lined the bars. The eyes of the guests widened.
One of the last to arrive, a mysterious girl, stepped in. She had moved in two weeks ago, heard stories about the Flashing Crow, and decided to check it out. Admission was free, and she hadn’t any friends yet. Her apartment was near the town college. She studied Myth and Legend, but tonight she wanted to party. Her hair bobbed to her shoulders, barely. The lighting illuminated her glowing lipstick. Her top was backless and her heavy black eye shadow added to her solemn appearance. Her eyes, a rare green, drifted over the room, red plush chairs, gold trim, enormous gaudy candlesticks, the bars on either side, the stage at the far end, the immense dance floor, upper floor balconies. She smiled. On the opposite end of the building, Utukku watched her.
He knew she didn’t belong here. He saw it in her eyes. The innocent was in danger. His eyes followed her as she strode to the bar. He watched as she sat, turned to the person sitting next to her, smiled and began to speak. Utukku knew her already. His stride lengthened as he walked to her side. He gave a subtle tap, and she turned toward him.
“I am Utukku, the owner of this club.” His voice was deep, resonating. His eyes never left her eyes. “We must speak . . . Now.”
Her eyes widened a little, “What is this about?.”
“Yara, now is not the time for questions.” His face was like stone, “I know who you are.” She followed him to a room at the far left side of the club. They entered, and he locked the door. Bolted, latched, barred. “Do you know what this place is?” he asked, his voice losing some confidence.
“Yeah,” she responded. “We are in the Flashing Crow. It’s the most totally wicked place to be in town. Free beer, loud music, hot bodies. Your club is off the hook. How did you know my name?”
“It is as I thought.” He moaned, “You have no idea.” Utukku unlatched the door and walked away. He was halfway across the club when Yara called out to him. Over the loud music, he didn’t hear her, or maybe he just wasn’t listening.
Another month passed before Yara saw him again. She thought of him constantly as she read in the library. Her mind strayed from her studies. Secluding herself more and more each day, Yara longed to again meet the strange celebrity. She was lying atop her bed, legs crossed, eyes closed. His piercing eyes remained in her thoughts. The phone in her room dangled from the desk on which it lay. His demanding presence remained in her heart. The shudders on the dorm window were clasped shut. She fumbled with ideas about him, his origin, his purpose. Finally, the Saturday of the Flashing Crow, Yara walked to the club early. She snuck to the rear, climbed the fire escape, and squeezed inside a narrowly opened window. Once inside, she smiled. The club was still empty, but she could already smell the aroma of the guests. She wandered around, looking for Utukku or anything that might lead to some knowledge about him. Thirteen chambers on the fourth floor, and all of them empty, unfurnished. She scowled. Unsuccessful in her search, she moped down to the empty bar on the first floor. Her adventure into the forbidden club was a failure and she was lost in her own thought.
“Why are you here?” a voice from behind her roared.
“Utukku, Is that you? I came here . . . hoping to . . . and I . . . well, I . . .” She fumbled with her words. Nothing came out how she wanted.
“You broke into my club and snuck anxiously through my halls. Why?” His voice was not harsh, but inquisitive . . . uncertain. He didn’t wait for a response. “Your life here is not safe. You live among them and hope to be accepted. You may not even know what they are. You are in danger.”
“I live among whom?” She demanded, forgetting that it was her who was trespassing.
“Vampires.”
“What?”
“Creatures of the night.” He corrected. “They drink blood to stay alive. The entire town is infested with them. They come out in the daylight. Crosses do not affect them, some of them are Christian; you may be in great danger if you stay here.”
“Vampires?”
“Yes.” He said gravely; eyes studying her reaction.
She turned away, thinking to herself. “You expect me to buy this?” She paused. “You come, buy a theater, turn it into a club, and hunt vampires by night? That makes no sense at all! Why a club? Why in Lilitu? What proof do you have?”
He stopped for a moment. “You will stay here tonight; you will have your proof.”
The party started on time. The guests galloped inside for the best night of the month. The strobes sparked, the fog billowed; everything was perfect. Utukku and Yara left the club and ran into the night. It was hazy, but they had no trouble seeing the road. Utukku lead Yara to an enormous building, the town center. They broke in. With a little effort, Utukku relocated the small passage he had discovered as a child. It lead to an underground crypt. The air smelled of decay and sewage. The crypt was unguarded, unknown to most of the city. Further inside, the elders were meeting. Yara, full of questions, managed to quietly follow as Utukku snuck in silently.
The meeting had started an hour ago, but the discussion was still vigorous. Yara stared, gaping at what she saw. Fifteen men, unnaturally white, were standing and pacing in the crypt. The room had the décor of a library. Rickety bookshelves lined the stone walls. Something was being devoured in the corner. One of the men crouched over something, thick red liquid dripping from his mouth. Several books were strewn haphazardly about the table. Utukku held one finger up to his mouth, Yara stood absolutely still. Pulling a vial from his belt, Utukku snarled. He uncapped the vial of yellow fluid, threw it into the chamber, and ducked back into the hallway. The thick yellow gas seeped into every corner of the room, every pore of the white men’s bodies. They were the elders of the town, Utukku would later explain, and their death would bring victory to goodness. The elders slumped to the floor; the diet of blood began to reverse its flow, dripping out of the dying fangs in their mouths.
Utukku stepped into the crypt and lead Yara to a bookshelf on the left side of the room. Pulling an oversized, gold trimmed book from the shelf, Utukku flipped to a page near the end. Yara read:
September Twenty-Three
Twas this night! I was enlightened. In the night of my darkest hour, my dead eyes rolled open, and I was reborn! The fire of life exploded into my corpse. Thirst burned in my mind. Blood dripped from above my newborn eyes; my father looked down upon me. I killed him. Pushing him off guard, I leapt upon his shoulders and ripped open his cold neck. The taste is fulfilling, satisfying. More is necessary. I must experiment with this new emotion.

September Twenty-Six
The daylight hurts my skin. It doesn’t burn, it singes, it tears. I have learned to subdue this feeling by consuming more blood. With this consumption, I have also gained unbelievable strength. The transformation has begun. The town will bow at my feet soon. Daylight has no effect on my rich skin. Those tales told to me by my grandmother were dead wrong. I stalk by day and night. Every victim is given a choice; they can die, or they can live by my rule. The decision is easy once they have tasted blood. My coalition is growing. An army is rising. My world is coming.

“What is this?” Yara murmured, not expecting an answer. “Who’s is this? Where did it come from?” A noise in the hallway snapped her attention back to her situation. Utukku grabbed her arm and led her to another exit. Only twenty yards away, escaping was not a problem. Within fifteen minutes, Utukku and Yara were back at the party, dancing among the youths. The same youths who would hear of the devastating blow dealt to their society. Their leader, their ministers, their protectors. All were dead. Their bodies were missing, dishonored. Utukku and Yara confined themselves to the cellar of the Flashing Crow. There, Yara continued reading.

September Thirty
Pure ecstasy! This power! The amazing sense of fire and blood overwhelms my soul. Only recently have I assembled a council of elders to aid in my quest. Their souls follow my rule and their thoughts fuel my passions. Our mission is common among us. Already have we made magnificent progress! Each day, more of the town is turned. We will never be completely in control, but the town is at my fingertips. The mayor, the police chief, six lawyers, two shop-owners, and twelve mailmen have joined our infamous ranks. The youths of our society, the children, show no cares in the matters of the night. Still, no worries move me. My mind is set on the task at hand (in claw?).
This day, I announced to the council my new name, Ustral. As their leader, my name holds a grand importance. The minds of my ministers (The Council Members) have accepted my new identity. They too desire such names. To them, I give the following: To the Minister of Feeding, Ubour. To the M of Violence, Ekummu. To War, I give Chaing. To the Peacekeeper, Lugat. Historian, Lamiai. Servitude, Emesus. Incubus and Succubus to the brother and sister of Vampires.
The latter two are my kin, and the first of whom I have turned. Empusas drives the ideas of my power into the minds of the youth. Chaing plans our rise. Lugat plans our reign. The others hold various others positions and will rule beside me. Twelve in all, their survival will insure the success of my rise to power.

She put the book down. After reading, her eyes widened. Utukku paced across the cellar. Sweat rolled from his temples. He saw only ten elders in the crypt (eleven if one counts the mayor that was killed months ago). Utukku knew of their master, including him, two still walked the earth. He had destroyed the mayor; he could destroy these two easily. This was his thought. He and Yara waited until the first Saturday of the next month.
At midnight, the club opened its gates. The fog rolled out from the Flashing Crow. Strobes of red light blasted through the air. Scratchy, hard music rocked the wooden stage inside. The crow decal on the buildings side was beginning to fade. Hundreds walked in that night. Swarms of pale, angry youths. Among them, Ustral glared around the Flashing Crow. His eyes narrowed under the black light. His black vinyl pants and tight black sleeveless shirt disguised him in the crowd. Utukku noticed his presence only by instinct. He pushed through the dancing crowd and made way to the bustling bar. The glass was colder than usual, but he took no notice. Knowing that Ustral roamed the rave, Utukku snarled. In his pocket there were two vials of poison. He itched to open them. Fists clenched, his eyes pierced every being in the room. Yara danced in the crowd, one level above. Her open hands waiving in the air, the scent of blood wafted into her nostrils. The heavy music electrified the room and Ustral strode to Yara’s side.
“Does he know?” Ustral’s voice hissed. The acrid odor of his breath heated her face.
“He is an idiot. He knows nothing.” Yara grinned, her hundred-year-old fangs beginning to show. “He is in the palm of my hand. His trust is so easily acquired.”
“Lamiai, you never fail to impress me.”
“For you, Ustral, I would do anything.” Yara, Lamiai, slid her hand around the back of Ustral’s neck. He moved closer to her, his body now against hers.
“Anything indeed, Lamiai. I can hardly contain my excitement. This fool will soon taste the bitter fate that we have arranged for him.” The dance continued. Around five fifteen in the morning, the club started to clear. Ustral remained on the second floor, with Yara at his side. Buzzing music continued to blare, but The Flashing Crow was considerably quieter than two hours before. Expecting, knowing, Utukku stepped off the staircase to the second floor. Across the flashing blackness, Ustral glared. Utukku caught the piercing gaze with stone eyes. The two stood, their eyes fixed on one another, frozen. Pushing the flap of his coat aside, Utukku allowed his fingers to grasp the first vial of yellow fluid. Concealed inside his jacket, the vial remained out of sight. Never taking his eyes away from his target, Ustral parted his lips, exposing glazed white fangs. Aside, Yara sat atop a plush, red cushioned seat, silent.