Immortal Obsession by Denise K. Rago

sentence. He slipped the machete back into place and had his coat on before Ross could say another word.
    “What is it?” Ross asked, trying to stop the vampire from slipping past him.
    “I hope my instincts are wrong. I’ll call you.”
    Then the vampire was gone, leaving Ross alone with his martini and the check.

    After calling Michel to relate his conversation with Ross, Christian combed the entire park. He was looking for something unusual—a smell or a feeling from one of the old ones—but he sensed nothing out of the ordinary. Once in the ravine, a private and rustic section of the park, he took out his machete. Since the elevation was below the regular grade of the park, the skyline was lost from view making the paths harder to navigate for the average mortal. Christian had no trouble following the pathways that had no street lamps, and his keen ears could hear the babbling loch up ahead, not yet frozen.
    He suddenly sensed something up ahead: an energy that belonged to only one being; a vampire. Looking closely, he saw him on the wooden bridge, silhouetted by two giant red oak trees. He sensed curiosity more than anything else from the other immortal, but held on to his machete nonetheless. Christian knew most of the other vampires in the city, but he usually chose to keep his distance from them.
    “Christian, is that you?” A high-pitched male voice with a British accent called out in the darkness.
    “Peter?” The vampire lowered his machete and moved closer. The spark from a cigarette lighter illuminated a plain face with shaggy brown hair and dull blue eyes. In a down coat, blue jeans, and sneakers, Peter looked more like a tourist than a vampire. Christian put the machete back in its sling.
    “Jesus Christ, I hope you weren’t planning to use that on me?” He exhaled, shoving the cigarettes back in his coat pocket.
    “What are you doing here?”
    “I might ask you the same thing Christian. Walking around the ravine waving your weapon seems just a little foreboding, wouldn’t you say?” He exhaled quickly.
    Christian and Michel had met Peter in the 1960s. He had been a mortal from Britain who came to America for a rock festival.
    He had met up with a roadie vampire at Woodstock who changed his life forever. He was harmless, but Christian could not help but wonder what he was doing here. He stopped just shy of the center of the bridge, giving Peter space, a sign of respect and no harm intended.
    “I suppose so. I haven’t seen you since last fall. Michel and I thought you might have gone back across the pond.”
    “How is Michel these days, still gorgeous beyond belief?”
    Christian shrugged. “Some things never change.”
    Peter began pacing. Christian had always known him to be restless. In fact, he seemed to have adopted more human qualities than vampire traits, even more so than Michel. His pacing and smoking reminded Christian of Ross or any other high-strung New Yorker living in such a stressful age.
    “How are things, Peter? You seem a bit agitated tonight.”
    Christian came closer and leaned against the carved wooden railing on the bridge. The sound of the water running under the bridge soothed him.
    “I don’t know,” the other vampire said with a shrug. “I just came back tonight to have a look around. I’ve been hanging out in Battery Park since this bloke showed up here. Gave me the creeps, he did—”
    “Was he a vampire or just your typical New York psycho?”
    Peter stamped out his cigarette then lit another one. “He’s one of us, but as soon as I saw him I knew something wasn’t right about him. I said to myself, ‘Peter, this bastard would cut out your heart and shit in the hole if it pleased him.’ Then some of the old-timers here started disappearing—”
    “Mortals?” Christian asked, sniffing the darkness but sensing no other presence there.
    “Yeah, I mean some of those people lived here for a long time.
    I’d take a sip from them on occasion, usually