Immortality doesn’t mean you don’t need your beauty sleep. Or it didn’t for Josse, at least – he felt as groggy as the next guy if he didn’t get at least seven hours. And yet, in the middle of that night forty years ago, he had been wide awake.
As he had been night after night for several weeks. Belgium had been shaken by a series of horrendous winter storms, and he was worried about the impasse’s ancient roofs. When he heard the muffled thud, he wasn’t even surprised, although he quickly realised that it sounded nothing like twisting rafters or smashed tiles.
A neighbour in trouble, he thought, and reached for his coat.
In the impasse, there was nothing amiss. A few vampires out on their nocturnal pursuits, a few sleepy Zinneke dogs wagging their tails in hope of a rare midnight walk. He asked the vampires for a quick flyover, just to see all was well, then let himself out through the gate, followed by mutts.
He hadn’t even made it to the next corner when the bats reported back. There was a thing on Grand-Place. Just in front of the Town Hall. Hard to describe. See for yourself.
***
A few minutes later, Josse discovered a large wedge of some fancy dark plastic firmly rammed into the ground. In each of the two visible corners, a single, round light appeared to be dying. The rim of another, on what was likely a third tip, emerged from between the cobblestones.
There had been sightings of such objects all over the news. Shadowy triangles in the night sky, with a bright white light in every corner, hovering, or shooting off at odd angles, in complete silence.
“Fetch everyone,” he said. “Tell Adelphine we’ll need a stretcher, and tools to pry this thing open.”
He tried to find a hatch while he waited. The dogs sniffed the hull gingerly, then went in for a pee.
***
“Are you sure this is alien? And what if it’s dangerous?” Azélie had flown over, still in silk pyjamas and fluffy kitten-heeled mules. She looked strangely vulnerable without the eyeliner and the shellacked curls. “Shouldn’t we just leave it to emergency services?”
“I very much doubt this is human technology,” Josse replied. “But if the crew does turn out to be human, they’ll still need help, and we’ll be faster than an ambulance.”
“Well, it certainly isn’t vampire tech,” Azélie sniffed.
True. Vampire aesthetics abhorred a straight line on anything other than coffins. Any craft engineered by Flybynights would likely be modelled on the wing of a bat, and even one built for stealth would feature stunning detail. Some elegant inlay fashioned from materials in different shades of black, no doubt, with flowing lines and tiny details in silver or claret.
Not that the craft in the cobbles was ugly. The sleek edges, the delicately rounded corners, the smooth, strangely flexible material with its deep swirling hues might have been a study in opulent minimalism, for all Josse knew. Or cared. He needed to get in. Now.
“Once we have an opening, everyone but me and Adelphine falls back.” Immortality doesn’t mean you won’t feel pain or get ill, but it does mean you won’t die.
“And once we know what we’re dealing with, I’d appreciate help from your team.” Presumably, the craft wasn’t carrying wooden stakes, vials of holy water or strings of garlic. There wasn’t much else that would put a vampire at risk.
***
As it turned out, all he had to do was knock, and an iris opening unfurled on what was probably the craft’s top side. Inside, a pilot gestured weakly from where she (he, they, it?) lay sprawled over the controls, dimly visible in the light from an array of displays. Presumably, taking a gamble on whoever was outside had seemed preferable to staying locked in.
Two arms, two legs, just the one head – but definitely, clearly, absolutely no way human. Unless the thick tail was some kind of prosthetic, and the mauve saucer eyes a genetic fluke.
***
Adelphine had the pilot back at the impasse’s infirmary in two flaps of a vampire’s wing, leaving Josse to salvage the craft and relay the cobbles in their usual neat rows. One of her charms had disguised the wreckage: passers-by would just see a broken-down van.
There had been no obvious way to dislodge the hull, so Josse tried the time-honoured method of hitting it as hard as he could, with a sort of upward motion, and gradually involved more and more hostel residents in the process for added clout.
Eventually, the vessel simply popped free.
Instead of toppling, it actually righted itself, hovering above the floor at a height of two lutins and drifting sideways at the slightest nudge. He let the dogs herd it through the streets and into the impasse, with the help of a lutin to open the gates. It would be perfectly safe in there under a nice bit of tarp.
***
Back at the infirmary, Adelphine and her trainee Xavier examined their patient, who by now had passed out. How could they help without making things worse?
“I’m not sure what to do,” said Adelphine – immortality doesn’t mean you know the first thing about alien life forms. “First, do no harm, OK, but let’s at least get him out of the suit and check for obvious injuries.”
“No fastenings or zips,” Xavier replied as he attempted to cut through the fabric. His scissors were not up to the job. “But surely, this does come off somehow?”
Maybe there was a hidden feature in one of the pockets? They could only find one, which as it turned out was actually a flap. Which hid a button. Which, when pressed, released the whole suit, revealing a person-sized sac of what looked like soft, clear plastic.
Inside, colourful fluids and glowing particles churned in intricate whorls. No discernible eyes, ears or mouth; those appeared to be part of the suit.
“Uh-oh,” said Xavier, while Adelphine stared in surprise. “Wrong move. Now what?”
“Well, for all we know, everything’s fine. No leaks, no compressions. Let’s see if we can put this thing back together.”
Try as they might, they couldn’t get the suit to reseal. They did, however, manage to readjust the face plate over the top of the sac, and they draped blankets over the lot to keep the unknown entity warm.
Eventually, the vertical eyelids opened.
“Hi there,” said Xavier. “What’s your name?”
“Sh-hal ar’hp,” murmured the pilot.
“Chlurp?” The healers turned to each other. “Did he say Chlurp?”