CHAPTER 1
Chaim Caan waited in the shadow by the old magnolia tree. The bright light of the nearby streetlight made the shadow seem especially dark. His eyes were focused on the man who had just exited the rear door of the synagogue.
It was a running source of humor in the local Jewish community that Rabbi Reuben Levinson, rabbi of the Reform congregation Temple Emanuel, parked his old Toyota Camry in the far corner of the synagogue parking lot to make one more spot close to the building available for one of the elderly members of his congregation who truly needed it. Even Chaim, Orthodox though he was, had heard the joke, “And don’t you park in Rav Reuben’s parking space, now.”
Chaim was nervous about approaching the rabbi. He was Reform, while Chaim and his family were definitely Orthodox. But the problem he had, he just couldn’t take it to Joshua Steinberg, the Orthodox rabbi of his synagogue, Congregation Beth Shalom. For all that Rabbi Steinberg was a compassionate and learned man, Chaim was fairly certain that he was not a flexible man. Rabbi Reuben, though, had a reputation for flexibility of thought. Chaim was very afraid that that was going to be tested tonight.
Keys out, the rabbi was approaching his car when Chaim moved out of the shadows. He recoiled for a moment and dropped his keys, then stood still.
“Rabbi Reuben?” Chaim began.
“Y…yes.” The stutter revealed the rabbi’s nervousness. Chaim could sympathize.
“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to frighten you, Rabbi.” Chaim moved forward into the aura of the nearby streetlamp. He knew what the bright light would reveal—a slightly pudgy young man about the rabbi’s height in jeans and a windbreaker. “I…I need to talk to you.”
Reuben sighed. “Can it wait until tomorrow? I am very tired, and would like to rest first.”
Chaim knew that the rabbi was probably weary. Shabbat service would put a strain on the rabbi, and he had the next morning’s Torah reading and sermon to get through. But it had taken Chaim a while to screw up his courage to approach the rabbi, and he didn’t want to lose the opportunity. “Umm, no, sir. I really need to talk to you now.”
“Very well.” The rabbi sighed again. “Let’s go back into my office, then.”
“No!” Chaim knew there was panic in his voice. The rabbi looked at him, quite startled. “I’d…” he continued in a calmer tone, “I’d rather talk out here, please. It won’t take long.”
There was a long pause as the rabbi was obviously mulling the thought over. “All right,” he finally responded, “but I’m going to sit down.” He suited actions to words by picking up his keys and walking over to the car to hop up on the driver’s side fender. “Now, what seems to be the problem?”
“The problem?” Chaim’s nerves flared as he almost giggled. “Oh, I have a problem indeed, sir, one that would test the mind of Rambam himself.” The rabbi’s eyebrows elevated at the reference to the medieval-era rabbi. Chaim’s studies in Jewish history and culture and religion were being displayed.
He took a deep breath, and began. “My name is Chaim Caan, Rav Reuben. I was raised Orthodox. My father and mother were both very strict in observance, including the kashrut rules. We went to shul on every Shabbas.” Chaim’s choice of the Ashkenazic forms of the Hebrew words for sure clued the rabbi in that his family was most likely of Eastern European background.
“I went to Hebrew school after regular school for several hours a day. After my bar mitzvah, I studied Torah and Talmud. It was my father’s thought that I would continue on to a yeshiva and study to become a rabbi.”
“If you were raised so traditionally, why are you bringing this to me?” the rabbi asked. “You should know I’m Reform.”
“I know,” Chaim said. “But this is so weird, I just don’t think my rabbi at Congregation Beth Shalom can handle it.”
“You think I can?”
“I have friends who attend here, and they say you’re pretty level-headed, practical, and able to think outside the box. I…I think I need that pretty badly, especially that last part.”
“All right,” Rabbi Reuben said. “I’m listening.”
“Well, anyway, Dad had always wanted me to be a rabbi, but I decided to become a doctor, so I’ve been a premed student the last couple of years.”
“A worthy goal. Our people provide many of the finest doctors in the world.”
“I know.” Chaim put his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground. “The thing is, once I got to school I kind of…started experimenting a little.” A slightly bitter tone entered his voice. “I was never in trouble, growing up. I was too busy to get into trouble. But when I started at the university, I saw that there was a whole wide world beyond the confines of my father’s beliefs, and I started exploring.”
“A not uncommon situation,” the rabbi sighed.
“Oh, I didn’t get into anything destructive, Rav Reuben. I stayed away from drugs, and I don’t drink a lot.” Chaim sounded slightly embarrassed. “It only took one hangover to convince me that I didn’t want to get drunk ever again. I not only wanted to die, I was disappointed when I didn’t.”
“So far I don’t hear any problems.” The rabbi spread his hands. “Nothing but the story of a young man exploring his universe. So why are you here?”
“The problem…” Chaim giggled again with a note of hysteria added that he couldn’t suppress. “The problem began a week ago. It was the end of the semester, and I was with some of the guys from the dorm. I’m eighteen now…”
“Wait a minute…” the rabbi said. “You’re only eighteen, but you’re a couple of years into premed?”
“Yeah,” Chaim said. “Elite schools, constant cramming…I graduated high school a couple of years early. I’m not a smart-ass about it, so most of the regular kids tolerate me.” His voice had a very resigned tone to it. “Anyway, we went to a dance club. I don’t normally hook up with anyone at these clubs.” Chaim waved a hand down his front. “I mean, I’m not a party guy, and I’m not the kind of body the girls at these clubs go for. Usually I get a couple of drinks, listen to the music, and occasionally have a conversation with a couple of girls who are tired of dancing and fighting off the groping hands.
“But that night…” Chaim could hear the note of awe in his own voice. “That night…She was gorgeous. Blonde hair, long and not tied back. Green eyes that could stare into your soul. She was almost tiny.” He held his hand out maybe five feet above the asphalt. “She wore white silk, and although many of the other girls had on much skimpier outfits, it was like she was naked and they were in burqas, or nuns, or something. Every guy’s eyes popped when she walked in the door, and you could hear jaws dropping open all over the place. Every girl who was with a guy sank her fingernails into his arm, and if they’d had claws, those would have been out as well.”
Chaim stared at the moon. There was a long moment of silence, finally broken by Rabbi Reuben.
“And?”
Chaim shook himself. “Oh…yeah. Um, well, she kind of walked around the place, with every eye in the place following her. And when she finished, she sat down on a barstool beside me.” He shook his head almost in disbelief as he remembered the experience. Chaim continued with, “Her voice…Rav Reuben, her voice was indescribable. I was expecting one of those shrill soprano Valley Girl voices, but hers was dark and low, as soft and smooth as silk. It sank into my bones…”
Chaim dwindled off again. The rabbi watched and waited as Chaim stared off into the distance at the lights of the downtown district. At length, he spoke softly. “I don’t remember much of the rest of the evening. I remember offering to buy her anything and everything she wanted to drink, but all she took was a little Perrier. I remember glares from the guys and evaluating looks from the other girls, as if maybe there was something more to me than they thought if I could attract and hold someone like her. I remember talking, whispering, laughing…oh, her laugh…listening to her laugh was like a sexual experience in itself. We stayed until the doors closed at 2:00 a.m., then she took me to a hotel down the street. I remember walking through the door of the room…and nothing more until the next day, when I awoke to find her gone.” Another long moment of silence. “In my mind, I knew she would be gone, but my heart cried after her anyway.”
“Are you sure you’re not a poet?” the rabbi asked.
“There was no note, no flower, no touch of silk. None of that romantic stuff.” Chaim heard the sadness mingled with hopelessness in his voice. He couldn’t help it. “But she did leave me a present.”
He could see the thoughts racing around in the rabbi’s head. “There is a doctor in the congregation who would be very discreet…”
Chaim’s laughter was laden with bitterness. “No, Rav Reuben, it’s not an STD…” he said. “I wish it was something that simple to deal with.
“I did feel sick that day. I managed to get back to my room, and collapsed in bed. I don’t remember anything of the following three days. When I awoke on the fourth day, my world was changed.”
“Changed how?”
Chaim looked away. Despair was dark in his voice as he responded, “That’s the problem, Rav Reuben. I am fundamentally changed. I can’t remain in sunlight for long. When I try to eat, even good kosher food, it tastes foul to me, and I gag.”
“There is a very good gastroenterologist in the congregation…”
“And he will be of no help, either. Look at me.” Chaim stepped closer, and shined the light of a key-chain LED flashlight on his face. He could see the horror on the rabbi’s face as he saw that Chaim’s canine teeth were longer than his other teeth.
The rabbi almost lunged off the car fender in shock. “What…what…”
“Oh, come now, Rav Reuben.” A mocking tone entered Chaim’s voice for the first time. “You’ve seen enough movies to know what you’re looking at.”
“It can’t be…can’t…”
“Oh, but it can.” Despair returned to Chaim’s voice. “I’m a vampire.”
The rabbi shrank away. He said nothing, but his fear was overpowering.
Chaim turned off the light and stepped back a couple of steps.
“I won’t hurt you, Rabbi. I swear by haShem that I will do no harm to you.” Chaim’s mouth quirked as he used the customary circumlocution of “The Name” to replace using one of the traditional names for the Creator of All.
Long moments passed as Chaim stood in silence, watching as Rabbi Reuben fought back his fear, until he finally spoke. “Well…well…uh…that is certainly the most unusual problem anyone has ever brought to me. Being a vampire, that is.”
Bitter laughter again from Chaim.
“Oh, I’ve had several days to come to grips with that, Rabbi. I’ve determined that I can find ways to support myself by working at night. I’ve determined that I won’t kill anyone. I’ve even determined that I will somehow try to break the news of what I’ve become to my oh-so-Orthodox parents, although they might rather hear that I’m gay or that I’ve become a Christian. I can deal with that. ‘The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away, Blessed be the name of the Lord,’ right?”
Chaim stepped up and laid his hands on the rabbi’s shoulders.
“No, the problem I bring to you, the problem you must urgently take to the Torah and Talmud scholars, to the rabbis and tzaddiks and sages is this: I am a Jew. I am also a vampire, who must drink blood to live.”
Chaim could see the issue finally dawn on Rabbi Reuben. He could see the horror arise in his face as the Levitical commandments ran through his mind: “…the blood thereof you shall not eat…” “…I will set my face against that soul that eateth blood, and will cut him off from among his people. For the life of the flesh is in the blood…”
“I’ve been claimed by a daughter of Lilith.” Chaim dropped his hands as he spoke. “Help me not to lose my God as well.” He slowly crumpled to the asphalt, weeping now, in harsh terrible sobs. “Help me…”