The Andre Chronicles
by Psychic medical intuitive Su Walker
Chapter 4: Vampire, Dark Mystic Or…?

Who and what I am.

Andre’s words echoed in my head and I sat back heavily, my mind whirling. Holy buckets! What in the world, or perhaps what not of this world, was I sitting across from?

No, who, I reminded myself. Andre was a person, not a thing. And, I reminded myself, he told me flat out he was from Earth. That statement had rung true. Heart pounding in my chest, I stood and made my way through the long grass and shadows to the picnic table, giving myself a few seconds to think, to process.

But did originating from Earth mean he was automatically human? In the darkness, I reached into the cooler to fish out a bottle of good dark stout beer. Ice water still dripping from my fingers, I opened it and took a long sip. “Want one?” I asked, trying to keep my voice normal, casual. He waved his hand no. I slowly closed the cooler lid and tossed the bottle cap into a trash bag hanging on the end of the table, buying time. Which of these is closest to the truth? Again, the confusing thought flashed through my mind…he didn’t say he was human.

I was trying hard to puzzle it out as I slowly worked my way back toward the fire’s dying embers. The long blades of grass whispered past my sandals, tickling the sides of my feet with a hundred tiny hints from the Universe. I scanned the tops of the trees and the sky, searching for clues. An evening swallow swooped overhead, its wings tucked in tight and barely visible, followed by the erratic winged flight pattern of what had to be a bat. Both shared the small patch of sky directly over my camp, each searching for a supper of insects.

Andre’s eyes watched my every move intently. He was sitting back in the camp chair again, shields fully in place, his body language carefully guarded. Those dark, soul-piercing eyes were the only part of him that betrayed he was waiting for me to speak. Somehow, I sensed that the clock was ticking on how long he would be patient for my answer. If I wanted the truth, I best not dally.

I set the bottle next to my camp chair and crossed to the woodpile, tossing a few logs onto the embers. Thoughts and images streamed at warp speed through my brain. That first meeting with Andre, I recalled, had hints and undertones of extremely light-filled, even angelic connections and feelings. My brows knit in consternation, trying to make sense of the confusing mix of psychic images and impressions, cryptic hints and innuendos. How to respond to him? I watched the flames begin to lap at the underside of the new logs and sat down again, cupping the ice-cold beer bottle between my hands. I inhaled slowly, exhaled, took a sip and looked through the fire and smoky haze at Andre.

“Well, I’m not sure if you’re a yogi or ascended master…I gather you haven’t exactly studied these ways or gained these skills by sitting for years and years on some mountaintop. That said, there are still parts of what gurus and fakirs do that seem to fit you, but it doesn’t jive with the warrior that I somehow sense….” My voice trailed off. I took another sip and dove in again. “Are you a variation of long-lived human? I suppose that’s possible. But,” I bit my lip, thinking at how to word this, “then there’s this other bit that confuses me. You yourself said that you were too dark for some people to…handle?” I looked up. “You never finished your sentence,” I stated. I watched him carefully, trying to determine if I had I finished it for him correctly.

“Continue,” was Andre’s only response. “And you were very careful to make sure that I knew that dark and evil were not synonymous,” I stated, remembering the punctuation that had been in his voice.

“You’re thinking vampire,” he finished my thought for me. “What if I told you….”

“But, you can’t be, you’re not evil!” I interrupted him. My fingers gripped the icy coldness of the dark stout in my hands. “What makes you think vampires are evil?” he asked pointedly. I blinked. My mouth opened and closed several times and no words came out.

Vampire! The word has always conjured up images of Dracula, fangs sinking into the necks of innocent victims, blood and death. Was killing the innocent not automatically evil? How was this even a question? Andre anticipated my prejudicial Hollywood perception. “Not all vampires are sanguine,” he stated. “Some seek and feed off the psychic energy of human beings, and we call them psychic vampires, or psi-vamps.” “Sanguine?” It was not a word I was familiar with. “Blood drinkers,” he filled in. Andre stared off into the star filled night sky. He sighed heavily. “I’ve researched vampires a lot,” he put his head down, shaking it from side to side in frustration, an inner struggle going on within him.

I couldn’t tell at that moment if he was confessing a dark secret or not. He hadn’t actually stated he was a vampire, but simply used the phrase, what if I told you…. He never finished the sentence before I interrupted him. He’s not. He couldn’t be a vampire. It just doesn’t fit! My mind insisted that this just wasn’t the right answer.

“Honestly,” he said looking down at his hands, examining first the backs, then the palms. “Only part of the definition of what a psychic vampire is fits me.” He looked up across the fire at me. The flickering light caught in his dark eyes and for a moment they seemed to glow with a faint orange gold. “Vampires know the dark. They can pull energy from humans, and can even project energy to control people like I can. They purportedly have longer lives, which matches your own perceptions of me. When I first read about them, I honestly saw parts of myself.” He sighed and grew silent for a moment, staring off into the darkest parts of the forest. “I went through a really dark period for about three years, and during that time really wondered what the hell I was. A Vampire was as close as anything I had ever read about, but... there's this fallen element to my nature..” his deep voice softly echoed out into the blackness of the night.

“But it’s not really you! You’re able to do so much more!” This time it was I who finished the sentence for him. The truth and bluntness of my statement hit him hard. I watched his hands knot into fists and Andre swore under his breath, in total exasperation. His vehemence split the air. “God! I don’t know what the hell I am! I just know I’m utterly alone! I’m such a freak!”

Ripples of pain and anger stirred the trees around us. The bats overhead suddenly veered and vanished into the safety of the forest. Psychically my senses told me that the living, breathing animals around us weren’t the only things that were backing away to a safer distance. Even the spiritual energies near-by were giving Andre a wide berth. Why would they do that.. unless.. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I objected. “You’re not a freak!” I leaned forward in my chair toward him, feeling the heat of the fire on my face. Hoping he could see me clearly, to hear and know the truth, I spoke slowly, punctuating my words. “You are not, I repeat not a freak. You may have unique gifts, and special talents…but damn it so do I! Hell, if I went to a psychiatrist and told them I talked to ghosts, had visions, and knew the future I’d be locked up! I know my abilities and I know they are normal for me. Yours are no more freakish than mine! This is normal for you!” “Yeah, but I’m different,” his spit out, sarcasm and frustrated anger dripping from his voice into the heat of the fire. It spat back hot bubbles of boiling sap. I felt him spiral back in time. He’d held this all inside for years, that much was clear. I leaned forward a bit more, my whole being open and accepting, hoping he’d sense the non-judgment and feel free to tell his story.

Andre sighed and said “From my earliest memories, I knew that God and the Spirit World existed. I was naturally drawn to it. Yet, no matter how good I was, or how earnestly I followed the direction of priest or pastor, I never had the spiritual experience they claimed. I felt broken, defective. unredeemable. I'd cry out to God, and ask why I was created. But in the end, I came to the conclusion that there was a part of my nature, a primal, raw, potent part, that I could not change. I could make choices to do good, but the nature of my soul I could not alter. Some of the stuff I do started to manifest when I was in my teens and twenties. I was naive then and stupidly assumed that….” His fingers went briefly to his forehead, massaging away an old memory. They trailed off into the air and he paused and looked at me again. “Let me tell you, I found out different real quick. There’s nobody else! Nobody!”

Andre’s voice echoed out into the forest and the crickets suddenly went silent again. He stood abruptly, snatched up a nearby log from the woodpile and threw it hard into the fire. A shower of sparks cascaded up and out like lava overflowing the top of a volcano. His lips curled under in anger, exposing his canines. In a growl he continued.

“You know of other psychics. Hell, you can turn on the damn TV and find them. Have you ever even heard of someone like me? I don’t know of anyone who can do what I do!” Andre stood abruptly, jerking himself from the chair. His stiff movements echoed the inner pain he was projecting. He reached for his pack of cigarettes again. “You know more energy projectionists than anyone I’ve ever met and even you don’t know of others that do what I do!” Andre voiced in utter exasperation. His hands quivered as he pulled a cigarette from the pack with his lips, lit it and took a long drag. I could tell he was very, very tired of searching and not finding.

“No,” I replied. “I don’t, but that doesn’t mean they’re not out there.” “Yeah,” he said with anger in his voice. “Well I’ve looked, I’ve searched all over! I’ve looked for years! Hell, I scare away kids, animals, and….” A wave of deep sadness pulsed out from him; an emotional tsunami created by an earthquake-like pressure that had been building for years. Andre stopped abruptly, but not before I heard the tears in his voice. He collapsed heavily into the camp chair, and was close to completely shutting down and buttoning up again. From across the orange embers I felt him rather than heard his thoughts.

I don’t know if I belong to this world. I just want to understand what I am!

I closed my eyes, my whole being connecting with him empathetically as these twin feelings hung like dead weights on my heart. I wanted to sob for him, cross the few feet between us, gather him up and just hold this man who felt so utterly alone. There must be others! I thought to myself. I know they must be somewhere! But, how do we find them? Silence fell heavily over the campsite, and the darkness grew blacker seeping outward like spilled ink away from the firelight’s edge and into the forest. In silence, the two of us watched the logs finish burning, and fall into ashes. The orange embers grew dimmer. I shook off the fog of hopeless resignation that had crept its way into the camp and stood up. There’s got to be others! Instinctively, somehow I just knew Andre was not the only one of his kind. Quietly, I crossed to the woodpile and picked up the strangest, most misshapen of the logs. It was old and gnarled and full of long, intensely sharp two and three inch thorns. Tree fangs. I let a small smile play across my lips, amused at the idea of a vampire of the woodland world. Carefully, I set it, deadly sharp spikes and all, on the hottest part of the coals and tossed in fresh kindling. Soon the old piece of rotten honey locust was ablaze with light, and flickering shadows danced on the trees, sparks flying heavenward.

“I’ll do some looking,” I said finally, breaking the silence. “Maybe I can find something that fits. I can’t promise, but I’ll try. Somehow, deep in my core I know you’re not the only one.” Andre shrugged and remained quiet. In my head I could hear his thoughts. You won’t find anything. He might be right, but I hoped to Goddess he was wrong. I let the silence linger for a moment, then took a deep breath and spoke again. “Can I tell you what I perceived when you did that first psychic journey work with me…when you took me into the thunderstorm and the other stuff the night we met?” He looked up, his face cloaked. “This may sound…different,” I half smiled at the use of the same descriptor he used for himself. “But what I really, honestly picked up about you was that you were more than just some sort of ancient warrior. I got a sense that you are someone who has spent lifetime after lifetime dealing with the dark, and not always being nice about it.” I heard him grunt, and then clear his throat. “Go on,” he prompted, his voice husky.

“Andre, I sense that you know the dark side…maybe it’s a past life thing, heck I don’t totally understand this.” I paused, putting together my thoughts. “You’ve worked with the entire dark and evil end of the spectrum. I don’t know why I think that….” “I do,” he muttered quietly and then to himself, I thought I heard him whisper, “I’m so tired of battling.” Looking away from me, Andre’s shields locked into place more firmly than I had seen them before. Whatever he was struggling with, he wasn’t about to share it all tonight. I made a mental note to find out more later. “But,” I pressed on, “somehow I get this intense feeling that you’re tired of the evil and that you also know how to work the entire light, loving end of things. Andre, what I get from you more than I have ever perceived from anyone is that you’re not a freak…your closer to a mystic…you may consider yourself closer to a dark mystic, but I….” I stopped, searching for the right words.

“You what?” he probed.

“You’re going to think I’m nuts,” I said, looking down. “What! Just say it.” I could feel him steeling against whatever I was to tell him. “Well, honestly…I sensed such power, such a divine …. I don’t know how to put this except that there’s so much brilliant light in you it would not have surprised me if you had told me that you were a messiah who’s taking a vacation this lifetime. The definition of a yogi, or guru or even someone who has angelic God-like connections feels much closer to the incredible power level I sense at your core. I’ve never found or touched on anyone close to this extreme level of…I don’t know what to call it…radiance maybe. But then there’s this whole warrior persona thing I can’t quite sort out. You’ve got such a huge amount of untapped ability that’s it’s not even funny. You may not be the light bearer Lucifer, but you if what I sense is anywhere close to the truth you are a light bearer of some kind and a damn good one. That’s not a bad thing!”

Andre sat back. I couldn’t tell if he was relieved, or stunned, or if anything I was blurting out was ringing true with him at all. Goddess let me be on track with this! I prayed.

“I’m not a messiah,” he began. “No, no I know that. I didn’t say you were. But, I can tell you that you have huge gifts and abilities you haven’t even begun to explore….” I shook my head, not sure why I was saying this. “And you have so much to do yet this life.” “Like what? What am I supposed to do with… this!” His hands gestured to his body and the space around him. I shook my head in frustration. “I don’t know yet…honestly, I don’t know.” I looked across the fire at him steadily. “All I know is that you’re not a freak. You’re a gift.” I felt rather than saw Andre blink several times and hoped to God he was hearing me. From ten feet away finally I heard a heavy sigh. I don’t think he’d ever had anyone talk to him this way. While I had no proof, I seriously doubted if he’d shared any of this with anyone else. He let the wood in the fire crackle for at least a minute. It hissed, spat and a pocket of sap caught suddenly and flared. Andre and I were bathed in a brief burst of intense firelight before it returned to normal.

Finally, heavily, he spoke.

“I’m just different.”