2. Xander

The Librarian, which was the only name they were known publicly by, showed me into a rather unimpressive, cramped room. Its only saving grace was the darkness that shrouded it and by extension us, but The Librarian spoiled that by lighting a kerosene lamp on the table.

The books on the surrounding shelves became washed in the warm glow. I looked around, wondering which book they were going to select for me, hoping that this particular human would not be repulsed by my vampiric proclivities, something that had happened the last time I attempted to date properly 48 years ago. There were some hookups here and there after that, but nothing concrete.

Then again, that was quite some time ago, and I was ready to give my best at making something with a human man work – as long as The Librarian picked out someone suitable.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked The Librarian, hoping the lisp produced by my two fangs wasn’t too thick.

I could understand myself perfectly, but some species had more trouble than others. Orcs were a particular problem, possibly because their own accents were so different from most other species. Fae folk like The Librarian had never complained about my voice before, however. Of course, fae rarely complained about anything that didn’t have to do with their own species or the state of nature.

“I’m quite sure,” The librarian assured me, selecting a green leather-bound book from a shelf opposite us.

They set it on the table, laying the sheet of paper they took with them next to it. Opening the book up, they crosschecked what they had written with whatever words were scrawled along the page they had opened it to. I bent down to achieve a closer look at it while The Librarian looked up at me expectantly.

“Well, what do you think? I believe this human will be the perfect man for you.”

I read through the gentleman’s details. It didn’t sound like he had spent so much as a single night with a monster before, only other humans. Other than that, the details were promising. I closed the book and turned to the librarian.

“Yes, this human sounds satisfactory,” I told them. “Shall I pen him a note right away? Or shall I wait a while before I make a move?”

“Now, of course,” The Librarian urged me. “It won’t do you any good to wait for the ‘right time,’ whenever that is. This human is interested in finding a match as soon as possible, so why don’t you go home, write your letter, and wait for a response?

“That sounds reasonable to me.”

I returned home with the slip of paper containing my mystery date’s contact information, holding it like a precious vile of blood, terrified that I would spill a drop of it on the earth below me. Only the paper had no blood to spill, but rather the potential to soil the pristine sheet to the point of unreadability. I finally had a chance at love. I wasn’t about to lose it now due to my own idiocy.

I arrived home quickly, choosing not to stop anywhere else this evening. It might have been wise to pick up some food for the human I would soon have staying in my house, but I still had a few shelf-stable left over from a rare party a year or so earlier.

I unlocked the wrought iron gate that protected my mansion from intruders – that was its intention, at least, though the mere sight of my property was enough to send any would-be criminal on their way.

The gargoyles on the stone fence were crumbling and dilapidated. The gravel pathway was overgrown with weeds and the lawn hadn’t been manicured in, well, ever, as far as I was aware. I would spend the entirety of my life at the Valchazar estate and had yet to see a single soul caring for the house and its grounds. I could have hired someone if I wished, but I preferred my solitude. And how much would it take to convince a groundskeeper to work on an ancient vampire estate?

The mansion itself had ivy vines traveling down every surface where the moss had yet to take over. Water dripped down from a hole in the roof over the porch, but I cared little about a touch of dampness. Dodging the puddle spreading on the steps, I entered the house and made my way toward my library.

The library was a dusty mess. Old letters, newspapers, and books lined the shelves, spilled over onto the chairs, and sat stockpiled on the ground, the stacks stretching nearly to the ceiling in some places.

I enjoyed reading as one of the few activities that always managed to eat up some of my endless time. I also enjoyed writing letters, a form of communication that was the only kind I had centuries ago when I first made friends.

After years of corresponding with various people, I kept only the ones that held sentimental value to me still – close friends, family, old lovers – the ones who were truly special in my eyes.

Outside of the library, the remainder of the house was just as neglected and unlived in. The dining room had never been used for anything more than to keep up appearances or the rare dinner party, and the kitchen was likewise a ghost of a room. I only used it when I had humans or other food-eating monsters over, which wasn’t often.

The only room I kept up was my bedroom, in the hopes that someday I might be able to bring someone home who would appreciate it. Those hopes had blossomed once again as I sat down to pen my note on yellowed parchment to one Luke Hammond, a human with a penchant for nighttime outings and an insatiable interest in monster folk of all kinds including, hopefully, vampires.