Chapter 246 - Final Arrangements part 3

I'll give him credit. He didn't even flinch. He blinked. Once. Those strangely smooth eyelids lowered to cover his unnaturally glinting eyes for a moment. Down. Up. Then he continued as if I'd said nothing unusual at all.

"You are dying?" he asked casually.

As a seasoned vampire attorney, he knew that the term "immortal" was something of a misnomer. Nothing in this universe is truly immortal. Stars die. Galaxies die. Even the universe itself will die. Most vampires live a century or two, if they're strong and resourceful, if they aren't killed by a fellow blood drinker first, or perhaps a very lucky mortal. A few live for a thousand years or more. All but the true immortals, the vampires we call Eternals, eventually decline. They grow listless and frail, their powers waning, their appetite slowly diminishing, until they end themselves or simply fall to dust. Usually, it's violence, though. We lead the lives of cats, we strigoi.

"Not at all," I answered. "I intend to destroy myself."

"I didn't think that was possible," Lipsky said. "Not for a vampire as powerful as yourself."

I shrugged. "It is difficult. Nothing is impossible."

Lipsky smiled that thin smile of his. "You are correct, of course." He shuffled through his papers distractedly. "I need to apologize. I had presumed, when I was told I was being sent to Liege, that you would be assuming a new identity. How old is our Mr. Valessi now? Seventy-seven years old?"

Mr. Lipsky was the lawyer who had provided me with the Valessi identity, oh, forty years ago. Before that, I was Gregor Vogt. And before that: George Vickers. I have had a great many names.

I chuckled. "Yes. A well-preserved seventy-seven years old."

"I took the liberty of generating a new identity for you. I.D. card. Passport. Bank account…"

"I will need all those things, but not for myself."

"No?"

"I have a new protégé. He's sleeping in the back bedroom."

"Ah. Well… I'll need a photo of… Him? Her?"

"Him."

"And some time to generate his new documentation…"

"How much time?"

"Oh, I'm certain I can have it ready for you overnight. It shouldn't take long. The bulk of the work is already done. Will we be transferring your assets to this new protégé?"

I started through my own papers. "A small portion, yes. The bulk of my holdings will be transferred to my vampire child Apollonius. He goes by the name Paulo Nikas. He currently resides on the isle of Karpathos, in the Aegean Sea."

Lipsky flourished his pen. "Apollonius… How do you spell that?"

Don't fret, my readers. I shan't torture you with a detailed account of the business we transacted that afternoon. Like sex, legal affairs are only interesting to the parties directly involved with it. To Apollonius and his great brood of vampire children on the isle of Karpathos: my European properties and the largest portion of my wealth. To my wild vampire child Sydney in the United States: my American properties and a smaller, but no less vast, fortune. I divided the remainder of my assets among my surviving vampire children: Stefan, in Paris, Justus, in Germany, Nora, in Wales. There was Yvette, Preston, and Wynn in England—not my own vampire children, but young immortals I had come to love during an adventure we had there fifty years ago. I set up trust funds for the mortal descendants I had managed to keep track of over the ages. In about two weeks, the few living descendants whom I had met personally or loved from afar were going to receive a very pleasant surprise from a rich, recently deceased uncle they had never known. The rest of my immense fortune I intended to donate to charities and museums.

And what of Zenzele, my vagabond queen?

Zenzele does not exist.

Not in mortal society, anyway. Not in a legal sense. She never has. She remains, as ever, time's eternal wanderer. I know that she still lives. I feel her presence tremble over me from time to time, like the spirit of God moving across the Biblical waters, but I have not beheld her with mine own eyes, held her in mine own arms, for what seems like ages upon ages. No, there is no Zenzele in the world of mortal men. If there were, I would have given her everything I possess, as I have already given her everything I am.

It took hours to sort through all my holdings. Thankfully, Mr. Lipsky was more familiar with my estate than I, so all I had to do was dictate who got what after I was gone.

As we concluded our meeting, I took a small assortment of envelopes from the stack of papers on my side of the table. It was nearly six pm by then. The city beyond my dining room window had begun to darken, its lights winking cheerfully in the gloaming.

There were five envelopes, four addressed to the most beloved of my surviving vampire children-- Apollonius, Sydney, Justus, and Nora—and one to my soul mate Zenzele. These were to be delivered in two weeks time, I instructed Mr. Lipsky, simultaneous with the distribution of my earthly possessions. The letter to Zenzele was to be delivered to Apollonius, to be held in trust until she sought him out, whenever that might be.

"My final words to them," I murmured. I caressed each envelope with my fingertips before I passed them over the table. In my mind, I was caressing each of them in the flesh, sliding my fingers down their cheeks, one after the other.

I cannot tell you what I wrote to each of them. It is too personal. Too painful and embarrassing and pathetic. I poured out my soul to them, in as much as one can pour out a soul with written words. I only hoped that they could forgive me someday.

Lipsky accepted the envelopes wordlessly, but with a satisfactory expression of gravity. He placed them into his briefcase with the rest of his paperwork, then shut the lid and locked it.

"Do we have any other business to discuss?"

I shook my head.

"Very well. I should head to my hotel and get started on all of this. It's quite a lot, I must say, but I doubt if any of it should present any problems. If you bring me that photo before it gets too late, I can have your fledgling's new identity ready by morning. I assume you'll be going out tonight?"

I nodded.

"Of course you are. You can drop off the photo after you and your new companion… dine." He smiled like a man sharing a dirty secret. "Drop it off at the front desk. I'll be up all night working."

He had risen, was heading toward the door, his briefcase swinging against his leg.

"The Ibis Liege, correct?"

"Yes."

I was retrieving his coat and hat when Lukas began to howl.