Suburban Vampire: Book of Origins

MALEK, also known as JEREMIAH: Part Three

ROME

192 CE

"I am bored," Flavius said as he lounged next to Jeremiah. "No men died in the arena today. All Commodus did was shoot the heads off... what are those large birds called again?"

"Ostriches," Jeremiah replied. "When I was mortal, I had roast ostrich, and ostrich eggs. By the gods, I miss good food."

"What? Whores are good food. Bakers are good food. Tailors are good food. School boys are good food. Merchants are good food. Fullers are... well, fullers reek of piss, so, maybe not. My point is, cooked meats are unnecessarily complex."

"Yes, still..."

The orgy had died down and most of the partygoers were well past intoxicated, including the immortals. One of the partygoers, a handsome blonde man, was sucking blood from the neck of one of Flavius' servants. "Oh, damn," the blonde man said as he dropped the serving girls' body to the hard marble floor, "Father, I think I broke your servant."

Flavius got up and walked over to the young man. He knelt down to feel for the girls' pulse. When he could not find it, he rose and slapped the young man across the face. "Festus, you fool, you've killed one of my servants! Do you know how much money I've got invested in servants?"

"I'm sorry, Father," Festus cried. "It was so delicious!"

Again, Flavius slapped him. "How did I teach you to feed?"

"Uh, count to five?"

"Right. Bite, suck, count to five, then release. But you've drained the bitch, and I am out good money! I am taking that from your allowance. Now leave my orgy, you silly boy!"

Flavius then returned to his lounge next to Jeremiah. "That was more exciting than watching the Emperor launch arrows at large birds, but not by much. Maybe I'll get a new slave girl, or not. Who cares, really? By Venus' cunt, I am bored!"

"As am I," Jeremiah said. "I've been in Rome for about a hundred years, indulging every lust, and yet, I feel nothing. Nothing but empty. And nothing can truly satisfy me. Is that not how you feel, Flavius? Are you not tired of this pointless life, filled with nothing but blood?"

"By Bacchus' asshole, you are not helping, Jeremiah. You are boring me even more. Did you learn nothing from the late, lamented Marcus Aurelius? That is, when you wax philosophical, you only end up boring the shit out of your audience."

"But I truly wish to know, is this all we are? Is this all there will be to our lives?"

Flavius jumped up. "Are you serious? What more is there to life than drinking blood and fucking? What more do you want, Jeremiah?"

"And yet, you said you were bored. I assumed that you were tired of this life, that maybe you have found out that drinking blood and fucking are not enough."

Flavius sat down again, dejected. "Gods, you are depressing, but right. I am bored! This life bores me."

"Well, what of your hobby? The study of prophetic literature?"

"Hmm. Right. My study of prophecies and oracles has been all very depressing. I find the easiest thing to predict is doom and gloom because surely doom and gloom are inevitable. Very depressing. Including, of course, prophecies related to us striges. All very depressing."

"But at least different, right? Different from the usual pattern – games, gladiators, orgies, and feeding."

"Still, depressing."