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“The Truce” – Conversations With Dead People

Author’s Note: Spoiler Warning. The following entry references specific events taking place in the novel The Matriarch: Guardians.


For the longest time after I killed him, Hector remained bitter toward me. I couldn’t exactly blame him.

Since then, I’ve dreaded his appearance after visiting Becca and Denton, his two surviving foster children. The usual conversation that followed was a critique on my non-existent parenting skills, but the main reason for my visits was to ensure the kids were safe and provided for — and to ensure Denton’s permanent ghouling wasn’t affecting him too adversely.

The truth was I had no idea what I was doing; all I had were pavement-quality good intentions.

On a particular Friday night, I had just said my goodbyes and was leaving their foster residence when Hector appeared to me in the car.

I heard him before I saw him. “This isn’t working.” When I glanced over at him in the passenger’s seat, he seemed older than his usual middle-aged self, again wearing his favorite pipefitters union windbreaker.

“If this is another critique,” I replied in the nicest tone I could fake, “can we skip ahead to the part where you tell me I’m not qualified?”

His expression suggested he was also struggling with niceties. “This is something you can do. He needs a mentor.”

I kept my cool. Mostly. “So, after all the times you’ve said I wasn’t…”

“As a Vampire,” he clarified.

Huh. Okay, he surprised me. “Except Denton’s not a Vampire.” We were hoping he wouldn’t turn into one, either. Our researchers at Cedarcrest Sanctum theorized he might still become one if he died, completing the interrupted transformation.

“But he is different.” I’d only ever heard that tone of concern once before from Hector — the night he told me to take his life to save Becca’s. “He’ll listen to you. He knows you struggle with what you are. He can sense it.”

“He’s in middle school,” I argued. “How am I going to relate to anything he’s dealing with?”

“Do you think he can relate to anyone at all his own age right now? He’s close to Becca, but she doesn’t have your perspective — not to mention you’re the adult.”

“Why not Eric or Cole?”

Hector chuckled. “I noticed you left Travis off that list.” He became serious again. “No, Denton is more trusting of…female authority.”

“What does that even mean?” It sounded ominous.

“It has to do with how he wound up in foster care. It took him a long while to warm up to me.”

“Oh.” I decided if more details weren’t being offered up, I didn’t need to know them.

We both sat in the car quietly for a few moments outside of the home. A mentor? Like a big sister? Besides worrying about craving a snack, I couldn’t imagine myself working closely with kids anymore; my old life plans of becoming a grade school teacher had been murdered with me. Even the idea of being trusted alone in a classroom full of temptation made me shudder.

Hector spoke again. “I want to help you help him. It has to be you. I can’t help if it isn’t.”

I couldn’t help but smirk. “So you need me.”

“Denton needs you — because I can’t be there for him except through you.”

That sobered me up. I looked back toward the house and noticed two pairs of eyes staring out from the dining room window. Becca and Denton were probably wondering why I hadn’t left yet, but it made sense to present the idea to Denton while I was still there. I paused just as I was about to open the car door.

“What are you waiting for?” Hector asked.

“I was wondering what kind of activity I could suggest we do together, like a bonding exercise.”

“He used to talk about those Matrix movies, the kung fu fighting. I introduced him to some old Bruce Lee films, too. If we could have afforded it, I would have liked to enroll him into a Judo class or something, but I was also afraid of him getting hurt.”

I smiled. “I don’t think that will be a problem anymore…the money or him getting hurt.”

“A little discipline can go a long way.”

“For both of us,” I added, raising a suspicious eyebrow at the ghost. “So if I do this, are you finally going to lighten up on me?”

“Hell no.” Hector’s tone was gruff as always, but there was an unusual hint of joy. “Not even a little.”


Keep each other safe.

~ Janiss

Email janiss.connelly@cedarcrestsanctum.com
Twitter @JanissConnelly
Instagram @janiss.connelly

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“Pride and Proper Nouns” – Vampire Verisimilitude

This bit of insight was inspired by my friend Juliette. She’s a bit of a blogger, writer, and an immortal herself, so check out her web page at Vampire Maman.


Belonging is important to social creatures, acceptance as part of the group. I say “THE group” instead of “A group” because it implies a particular group. As anyone reading this can well imagine, one has a sense of pride when it comes to being accepted.

The same can be said, I believe, for Vampires.

Did you catch it? I capitalized the “V” — and I’m using that from now on. Juliette does, but it never dawned on me why she did before until I seriously thought about it.

FromTheDeskOfJanissSignatureVampires aren’t evil by nature. Sure, we have a predisposition toward predator behavior, but what carnivorous creature in creation isn’t capable of killing? We’re also the most threatening to one another, but with effort and a few rules (thanks, social media!), many of us can get along fine…especially when we’re not in the same room.
Continue reading ““Pride and Proper Nouns” – Vampire Verisimilitude”

“A Fifth of November” – Vampire Verisimilitude

November is an interesting month for me.

My birthday is the fifth, so I turn twenty-seven today — or I would if I were still alive.

(Before you ask, yes…my dad taught me the “Remember, Remember, the Fifth of November” rhyme.)

VampireCupcakesSpeaking of being alive, the concept of “life” has become fluid for me. I was told vampires simulate life (breath and heartbeat) so we can better lure in our victims, but I also consider the source (Ian was an ass). Although I can always feel it coming, I’m still not used to the sudden lurch of my heart stopping at sunrise.

November was also the month I was “turned,” a word that sounds better to me than “murdered.” I get that now; I’m still here even though I’m physically different. Another immortal once told me I was lucky in one respect: being turned at so early an age may have cheated me of a full life, but it afforded me the luxury of pretending to be alive as my actual self a while longer.

Continue reading ““A Fifth of November” – Vampire Verisimilitude”

“Barely a Thimble Full” – Conversations With Dead People

Note: this is the start of a new segment. As a few of you are aware, I’m never really alone. There are people in my head, a few former victims. It’s punishment or at the very least a curse. To my mind, this is another reason vampires prefer to have people around, because we hear voices when we’re alone and see their faces staring back in reflections everywhere. Still thinking of becoming a vampire as a career goal?


I have a taste for cinnamon sugar. In my tea, my hot chocolate…even a dash in milk. As with everything not my preferred drink (copious amounts of the red stuff), I can only tolerate people foods in tiny amounts. For solids, no more than a finger-swipe across the rim of a jar. For liquids, barely a thimble full.

“I hate English toffee,” Daniel said as I sipped a new favorite.

Vampires can’t prepare thimble-sized portions of anything; I’ve tried and it never tastes right. I can try to make as little as possible and take an occasional sip, but unless I have someone there with me who can consume my leftovers, I end up throwing most of any real food or drink out.

Continue reading ““Barely a Thimble Full” – Conversations With Dead People”

Happy Halloween: Beggar’s Night

It’s almost here: Halloween.

No bait-and-switch angst today, just a fun idea. A throwback, if you like.

(“Can’t we have a little of the angst?” “No. Shh! I’ve been a stick in the mud in previous years; I’m done with all that.”)

We’re all-ages here at Cedarcrest, young and old, with many an All Hallow’s Eve tale to tell.

Once upon a time, some of you called it “Beggar’s Night.”

FromTheDeskOfJanissSignatureFor those celebrating, I’ve heard all kinds of stories about you little gremlins and your so-called harmless pranking. One of you titled yourselves “The Goblins of the Season.” Moving furniture off of porches, throwing rotten tomatoes or fruit, eggs and toilet paper. Little hellions all! Parents ignored this as long as it was kept to certain level; there were lines you knew not to cross.

The best part sounded like keeping your secrets each year, with each other or from each other.

Continue reading “Happy Halloween: Beggar’s Night”

“The Happy Post” – Vampire Verisimilitude

Yes, I’m late with the post. Timothy pointed out that there was a lot of doom and gloom here; guilty as charged. So I scrapped the one I was working on. You wanted honesty, right? I admit it: I’ve been venting.

So he asked me THIS question: since becoming a vampire, what makes me happy?

FromTheDeskOfJanissSignatureI could say “feeding” since it has become a priority, but that’s less happiness or more satisfaction. Human contact is more important than you’d think, holding someone and having them hold you in return; I think I’ve always enjoyed a good hug (yes, I’m a hugger). But the question was specifically since becoming a vampire.

I’m going with “living without fear.”

Hear me out.

Continue reading ““The Happy Post” – Vampire Verisimilitude”

“Offending Immortals” – Vampire Verisimilitude

I have met a handful of other immortals (read: vampires). Here’s a secret that isn’t a secret (with apologies to Danny Trejo): vampires don’t text. Or blog. Or out themselves on social media. Right?

Also: am I an obnoxious twenty-something? Yes or no? Am I at least a well-meaning obnoxious twenty-something?

Damn it.

FromTheDeskOfJanissSignatureI got stuck with this job because of the obvious perks. I love our residents, but this wasn’t my big life plan. I didn’t ask to be turned into a vampire at twenty-two all because two centuries-old bloodsuckers decided to take their rivalry to the next level and both wanted a pawn to play with.

Okay, that wasn’t fair: at least Louisa had planned to actually ASK me, but I still would have said no.

Where’s all this coming from? Let’s start at the beginning.

Her name is…well, let’s call her “Jules.”

I love the Internet. I enjoy social media. I wasn’t much of a thumb-clicker in college, but distractions are welcome when I want to step outside of my life into those of other people. Social media makes it easy; everyone wants to share their joy and pain and political opinions and whatever. Most of it is crap or look-at-me and too much of it is poorly written at best. Seriously, kids: you’re not the Vampire Lestat or 8000 years old no matter how many times you say “you don’t know me.” I can say with 99.9% certainty you’re neither a vampire nor an immortal.

Jules was different. Yes, I know she wasn’t really a vampire…but I wanted to believe she was. There was truth in her words, as if her mask was transparent or at least translucent. It felt real and it felt wonderful. Pleasure, pain, triumph, disappointment, all that stuff. There was a comment button, so I clicked and responded. Jules has created this wonderful vampire life for herself with rules and everything – with perfect consistency – and one so much more idyllic than my own. Children, for example, walking in sunshine and having supernatural friends.

I…may have overstepped.

Real vampires don’t do this unless they are sure no one believes them. It’s too dangerous. We’re all being watched, trust me. But the ones that could be real aren’t the ones proclaiming you must accept them and whining when you don’t. They’re the ones who are being honest and coming from a place just under the text, between the lines where so much isn’t said.

I responded. She believed me. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I was just playing along.

While I wasn’t hiding it, Jules found my contact info and sent me a personal email. I was worrying her and some of her other readers.

I meant no offense, but that’s not an excuse, is it?

It gets worse. She said she thought I was “an obnoxious twenty-something who stayed up way too late at night…(probably) a recent college graduate.” Mostly true. “Someone who also wrote from a vampire character point of view, who liked to leave comments on other vampire related blogs…more often than not bugged the jeebers out of me.”

That hurt…and I deserved it.

Fine, I guess I can be obnoxious. I’m still growing up and I should be able to use that as an excuse, but I was trying to relate with my own experience. How am I supposed to say, “Hey, I’m a vampire too and I’m jealous of your kids!” It would be even worse if Jules truly understood the reason so-called nice vampires avoided children.

And now I’m whining. My failure is complete.

Don’t shut me out, Jules.

I’m sorry.

~ Janiss

Email janiss.connelly@cedarcrestsanctum.com
Twitter @JanissConnelly
Instagram @janiss.connelly

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Vampire Verisimilitude: “Ending Violence”

Janiss here, and a bit earlier than usual. I’m answering my own question tonight: “How can we stop mass shootings?”

I wish I could talk to each and every one of these intended shooters beforehand…all of them.

FromTheDeskOfJanissSignatureCall me, text me, email me, knock on my door, whatever; just get to me. Tell me what you’re thinking. Believe me; you do not want to know what taking a life feels like. And if you’re so dead inside you cannot empathize with ending the existence of another, you deserve to be put down.

You read that right. Destroyed. Killed off. Permanently removed from society.

I’m not talking about soldiers in wartime (we’ll skip my conscientious objections for now). I’m talking about the premeditated planning to murder the innocent.

Yes, I’m a vampire: an alpha predator, a near-perfect killer. I won’t tell you I can’t flip a switch and commit murder because I damn well can…but I won’t. I save that rage for those who lack the capacity to feel anything for anyone else, and only when someone else is in danger.

There’s a difference between a person who believes they have no choice but to kill and someone who delights in causing suffering, who feels righteous taking innocent lives. These aren’t acts of terror; they’re acts of evil.

I’m not 100% Country Girl, but I understand you need guns on a farm. Firearms are necessary to protect against local wildlife when you live outside of the city, places where your nearest neighbor is miles away and the police aren’t going to get there in time…ever. And let’s not delude ourselves; as long as there’s war, weapons designed to kill large groups of people will also exist no matter how many bans or restrictions you place on them.

All you need is love.

Fine, laugh now…get it out of your system. But if we all started connecting – really connecting – and offering a lifeline of understanding to one other, this kind of thing not only wouldn’t happen, it simply couldn’t.

Love thy neighbor.

Yes, me and my silly dreams. It’s all easy to say when you’re safe and surrounded by friends, but what if you aren’t?

We have to find a way to make the fear and anger go away. It can’t be one charity or a fun run or whatever-awareness month. It has to be everyone, all the time, making allowances to give to each other. We have to help each other through the anger and sadness and just everything.

Maybe I’m completely naive, but I know what it means to go on when you’ve taken an innocent life, no matter how accidental you tell yourself it was or that you didn’t mean it.

I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. I don’t want you to become my worst enemy, either.

Put down your bombs, your guns, and your knives and just talk to someone…or become the person someone can talk to.

Keep each other safe.

~ Janiss

Email janiss.connelly@cedarcrestsanctum.com
Twitter @JanissConnelly
Instagram @janiss.connelly

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Vampire Verisimilitude: “Guns and Survivability”

Janiss here. Happy Sunday!

FromTheDeskOfJanissSignatureTimothy inspired this week’s revelation when he said, “You do remember we employ a trained team of vampire hunters led by a vampire, right?” It’s true and it’s hilarious, but as ridiculous as it sounds, it also makes perfect sense. To keep Cedarcrest safe, we watch for others of my kind…other immortals. Some can be dealt with and others pushed back; some can’t be left alone and it’s irresponsible to leave them be.

Ambassadors of mostly good will.

This brings me to today’s point: a few of you worry about me, and your concerns are appreciated.

As many of you know (especially the ones who’ve borrowed titles from his personal library), Timothy is our resident pop culture bloodsucker expert; he collects and avidly watches all manner of vampire TV shows and movies on the subject. In the name of entertainment, screen vampires have progressed from hideous monsters to misunderstood blood-drinking romantics. I can relate to both sides – forever bored seeking new goals and distractions, and hey, you gotta eat – but is anyone else amazed with the sheer number of imagined ways a vampire can be easily destroyed?

Look at the Underworld movie series. Selene is a serious badass “death dealer” in a war with werewolves slinging automatic pistols, submachine guns, and both silver and UV ammunition. While slow-motion gunfire is incredible to watch, vampires heal fast…REALLY fast, not to mention stakes don’t turn us to dust and neither does sunlight or UV bullets. Online sources provide a more believable reason for these ideas: for ease of storytelling, because vampire slayers don’t have time to hide slain bodies, evade the cops, and keep the action moving.

What I’m trying to say is we’re damnably hard to kill.

I have to laugh when I see vampires trying to kill each other with Heckler & Koch MP5K submachine guns; this appears to be a favorite because these weapons have been around for fifty years and can be crazy modified. The problem: you could empty two thirty-round clips of 9mm ammunition into a single pissed-off vamp and not even slow them down, even if you knew exactly were to shoot them (no, I’m not telling you where our weak points are). Coupled with a freakish ability to anticipate an attack and dodge most of that incoming lead, you can see why it’s laughable.

You want to know what does work? Numbers. One vampire being attacked on multiple fronts can’t dodge every attack, and every successful hit is a distraction to the next one. A smart bloodsucker will seek to escape no matter how badass they think they are; a cornered vampire is a trapped vampire, and while it makes them deadlier, it also makes them much more vulnerable.

Having friends is your friend.

The whole lone-wolf vampire assassin (see what I did there?) armed like Matrix Neo with sunglasses and a long coat makes for great cinema but is impractical at best. We’re VAMPIRES, for God’s sake! We blend in, make suggestions, and lure you in. For all of the amusement it provided, the movie What We Do In the Shadows nailed it: we’re the bait, but we’re also the trap. Forget the night clubs; you’re safe inside. A girl walking alone at night, a homeless person where they shouldn’t be, or an elderly man sitting at a bus stop long after the line has stopped? Go the other way, my friend.

If someone just needed to put down a vampire with sheer bullet damage – one single solitary vampire – here’s a free script suggestion: lure them into the bottom of an abandoned missile silo, have a TAC team riddle them with enough bullets to bleed them out (assuming they didn’t bring a snack with them), and then seal it up the top, preferably with concrete. The vampire may not be permanently destroyed, but it also won’t be going anywhere…forever.

Seriously, Hollywood: enough with conventional gunpowder weapons for hunting bloodsuckers.

Gunplay is a male-empowerment, vampire-slaying fantasy that’s going to get you killed… or worse.

Keep each other safe.

~ Janiss

Special thanks to Eric for pointing out correct weapon types and editing for acronyms.

Email janiss.connelly@cedarcrestsanctum.com
Twitter @JanissConnelly
Instagram @janiss.connelly

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Vampire Verisimilitude: “Very Happy Meals”

One of my questions this week was, “Can you cook?”

My first thought was, “Huh?”

FromTheDeskOfJanissSignatureOf course I can cook. Mom insisted. I just can’t eat any of it anymore. Vampires can taste – we’re very good at tasting – it’s just that we can’t digest food…and yes, like an idiot, I’ve tried. Let’s just say I don’t use the facilities the way I used to and what goes down must come up through the only orifice it still can…violently.

Truth to tell, I hated the idea of cooking – I just wanted my food NOW – but it taught me things I later learned to appreciate. My mom is very domestic – the hostess queen – and she thought I should have those skills. No dust bunnies, no cobwebs, and crumbs were strictly forbidden.

But going back to cooking: it’s food, yes, but it’s also art and planning.

Cooking to me used to be deciding what kind of cereal to pour into a bowl. It was orderly: cereal first, add milk, and as my dad used to say, “You’re not floating a battleship.” Did extra milk make cereal taste better? Or making toast. I was the toast master.

Mom fixed all that. She asked what I wanted to make…anything at all. I used to like Happy Meals, just a simple cheeseburger and fries with a Coke and a toy. You ordered at the counter, waited for what felt like an eternity, and got your colorful box. It was like unwrapping a present for dinner…hey, I was seven, okay?

She agreed we would make homemade Happy Meals but without the pretty box and movie-themed toy. We got everything at the store late one Saturday afternoon before coming home and unpacking it all. My mom sat in her favorite kitchen chair and informed me she wasn’t going to help: making dinner for the family was on me.

Okay!

“Cooking,” she said, “was about both taste and timing.” If each ingredient tasted good separately, the final dish will be better when everything is combined; spicing the meat was especially important. So why did we have to start the fries first? That was the timing part. If we didn’t start the fries baking before we made the burgers and buns, they’d be cold before dinner time instead of fresh out of the oven. It made sense, and cold fries sucked.

After the oven was warmed up and the fries got to baking, mom said we had some time to go over the plan for the burgers. She directed me to set out spices for the ground beef and got the buns ready to lightly toast. Ketchup, mustard, pickles, cheese, and those dehydrated minced onions; everything was ready to go. She instructed me on how to set the heat, a light buttering on the inside of the buns to make them crisp as they toasted, when to turn the patties, and so on. There was also a lot of handwashing involved.

No, it didn’t look like McDonald’s when it was done. It was better! It looked better, tasted better, and pre-ordered Happy Meals just didn’t seem as special after making one for myself. Sure, it took almost an hour instead of three minutes, but then I got to clean up the kitchen with dad’s help and that was fun, too.

Nowadays, I’m back to placing orders: a pint of blood…drawn from five donors that’s combined into a warm mug that someone brings to me. “Five minutes fresh” as Eric likes to say. I once considered watching the drawing process, but I imagined it would be like seeing a cow bleeding instead of being milked. Still, it’s provided with love, and I swear I can taste that.

Three magical little happy meals a night, each served in a special cup just for me.

But I do miss cooking for myself.

Keep each other safe.

~ Janiss

Email janiss.connelly@cedarcrestsanctum.com
Twitter @JanissConnelly
Instagram @janiss.connelly

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