"He's on his way," Collette admitted to me as
we lay comfortably in bed.
"Who?" I asked, fearing the answer,
knowing I was right without needing to hear it.
"Friar Essex." Her hand gripped mine
tightly, not out of fear, but out of comfort. "He is on his way
to the town, and will probably be there in about two weeks. He will
come as a priest, of course, and move into the church. He will do
all that he can to usurp the townsfolk, gathering them to help fight
us."
Her including me was terrific. "What will
we do?"
"I am sending Keith and his grandfather back to
town. They will hinder his efforts. They have acclimated well
to being here, and will prove useful in thwarting Friar Essex's
work." She slid closer to me and rested her head in the soft
flesh of my arm, "we have a lot of work to do," she sighed.
"When
will you be sending them back?" I asked.
"Tomorrow," she said, sounding
defeated.
I climbed out of sunken bed and holding my hand to
her, I helped her to her feet. We padded naked across the floor
where I knelt to turn on the water to the water on in the sunken
tub. No bubbles, Collette thought to me, we haven't the time."
"Okay," I replied.
No words, she directed me with her thoughts.
You need to practice using your thoughts, so I do not want you to speak
when we are alone. Use your mind as much as possible. If you
have problems, I will help you.
I understand, I thought back. When the tub was
full I reached to shut off the water, but stopped myself. Use my
mind, she had told me. I concentrated, seeing the faucet in my
head. I willed the valve to turn and was delighted to see how easily
it obeyed. The water started again, Collette having willed the valve
open. Stop the water with your mind this time, do not turn the
valve.
I concentrated,
seeing the valve in my mind. I ignored the easy path as Collette had
directed. With my eyes shut I watched the water leave the spigot
rapidly. The water level was climbing, and I knew I had to hurry if
I did not want to overflow the sunken bath and flood the floor.
Watching the water I concentrated, willing the water to stop. I
imagined a stopper rising up the flowing stream and plugging the end,
cutting off the water flow.
Very good, Collette thought to me.
I opened my eyes. The water had stopped with
the control valve wide open. There was no stopper on the spigot, of
course, but the water had ceased flowing as if it were plugged. I
did it, I said, sounding surprised even in my own mind.
Yes, Collette said, you can will things to happen.
Concentrate. Imagine what you want, and will it to be. In time
you can imagine greater things, making them happen. You can will
time to stop, as you can seen. It takes time and it takes
practice. Now, shut the valve.
I turned the valve with my thoughts.
Very good, she
thought again. That is perfect. You have done well. Collette
climbed into the water. Now, she thought, bathe me. I stepped
forward and her thoughts drifted to me, no, from there.
I understood again. From my vantage point
standing a few feet away, I concentrated. Using my mind I pulled a
wash cloth from the small table resting in the corner. It floated
across the room with my thoughts, drifting into the water. I rang
the wash cloth with my thoughts. I began to bathe Collette, running the
wet rag over her skin. It was efficient but I found it was less
enjoyable than running my hand over her skin.
I know, she thought to me, but you need the
practice.
I continued to bathe her, running the wash cloth
over her skin, washing her body with the wet rag. The rag ran with
my mind from her feet to her neck. Very slowly and cautiously I ran
the cloth over face, washing her gentle features with the blue
cloth. I was staring at the washcloth, watching its progress as I
guided it with my thoughts. I was worried of accidentally poking her
in the eye or getting soap in them, and as such I was cautious.
You are doing well, she eased my fears.
I set the wash
cloth aside, draping it gently next to the tub. It does take some
concentration, I admitted.
It will get easier, she thought back. Collette
stood up and stepped out of the sunken tub. She grabbed a towel and
quickly dried her body. Come, she thought to me walking naked toward
the door of the bedroom. We need to feed and then send Nathaniel and
Keith back to town. Friar Essex will find his task harder than he
thought. She smiled weakly.
You don't want to send them back do you?
No. It is the best thing to do. I
wasn't, she paused, searching for the words. Finally, it is too
soon.
What is?
Friar Essex coming here. I knew he would
eventually seek me out, that he would not be trapped in the walls of the
church forever. I actually think it is for the best, his hunt for vengeance
will prevent him from harming a lot of people. It is a good thing
that he is coming and that we can fight him. I am just surprised
that it is now, and I am not used to being surprised.
You expected
it? I asked with my thoughts. How long have you expected it?
Since the day I trapped him in the walls of that now
leveled cathedral. The church was built by the hand of man and
therefore fallible. In time I knew it would wither away, be torn
down or neglected. It was inevitable. I felt it when he was
released, it has less than a year. That is what I feel is too soon;
the fact that he is coming so soon after being freed. His rage must
be driving him, and for him to seek me out this soon after his freedom
just illustrates that rage.
Us, I thought to her. He is seeking us
out. I smiled at her.
She turned to look at me, yes, she thought,
us. Come, let us feed. I followed Collette from the bedroom, the
doors swinging open uncommanded. She had explained the obedience of
the castle and its origin, but seeing the castle bend its form to Collette's
will still amazed me, the power she exuded, her will expressed in the
motion of inanimate objects. We turned left and walked the short
distance to the dining room.
Linus was eating
a small bowl of scrambled eggs when the doors opened for us.
"Good morning, Linus," Collette said as we entered. She had
seen him sitting at the large table in her mind and had greeted him
instantly. "Please bare your throat, we need to feed."
It was a command and he knew it. He swallowed
heavily and pulled the T-shirt he was wearing over his head. He
tilted his head up to stare at the ceiling. "I am ready,"
he said sounding scared.
Nathaniel, Brian, get in here, Collette called out with
her mind. I could hear the words in my head as clearly as if she had
spoken aloud. Good, her thoughts said to me. She crossed the
room, thinking to me, come, feed.
I acknowledged her with a thought and crossed the
room. I stood on the right side of Linus, Collette on the left. Together
we bent forward to feed on his blood. I sank my teeth into his neck,
tasting the coppery flavor of his blood exploding over my tongue.
The taste was sweeter than any wine I had ever drunk, the flavor an
intoxicating nectar the Gods called Ambrosia. I had fed before, but
never had it tasted so robust and flavorful. It was as if the blood
was the perfect mixture of fluids resulting in the perfect drink. It
was heavenly.
It gets better, Collette thought to me and I was hard
pressed to believe her words with the flavor dancing on my tongue.
We drank deeply,
taking our fill of Linus' blood. I could feel myself growing
stronger as I savored the blood that filled my senses. I pulled my
mouth off of the warm throat of my host and thanked him with soft words,
"thank you, Linus," I said to him, "that was amazing."
"You're welcome," he said
weakly.
Collette stood and crossed the room to take a seat at
the head of the table. "Linus," she said, "something
substantial, please. Please make some eggs with tomatoes for four of
us. We will eat it here."
Linus climbed onto unsteady feet and replied,
"yes, mistress."
Collette and I sat
in comfortable silence until Keith and Nathaniel entered. "Have
a seat," Collette directed, indicating the empty seats at the
table. Keith and Nathaniel obeyed, sitting quickly and sitting in
rapt attention. "I think you two can help me," she
began. "I will explain the situation and let you know my
plan. Okay?"
Both Nathaniel and Keith agreed with a muted nod.
"Centuries ago I fought a vampire," she
explained, "he attacked me and I defeated him by trapping him within
the walls of a beautiful cathedral. He escaped when the building was
destroyed and is on the way to the town that you two are from. He
will infiltrate the town by killing the preacher and assuming the
role."
They were looking at her, fascinated by the short
explanation. I could read their thoughts, wonder at how they could
help, their imaginations running on what would happen when he did take
over the town.
Collette continued, "I need to send you to
town. I need you to hinder his activities. I know you will not
be able to stop him completely. However, any hindrance will help me
greatly. Can you help?"
Nathaniel spoke
first, "is it wise to send us back. The town knows you won,
won't the residents be suspicious?"
"Possibly, at first," Collette admitted,
"I expect my assailant to arrive in just over a week, possibly
two. This will give you time to tell the story of how you weren't
fitting in and how I let you go. Then, when the vampire arrives, you
can sew your discontent and express your distrust of him. I will be
in contact with you in your thoughts. Just ask me any questions, or
ask for my guidance, and I will help you with whatever you need. Can
you do this?"
Keith spoke next, "I don't want to leave."
Collette smiled, elated at the honesty in which he
spoke. I had to admit, the thought of leaving after being accepted
did not sound appealing, "you won't be gone forever," she
explained, "when he is defeated, you can come back. I
need this as an aid in the fight, not as a means to send you away."
Satisfied with the answer, Keith said, "I want
to help you any way I can."
"As do I," Nathaniel agreed.
Collette smiled,
"good. You should leave right after breakfast, get back before
the sun goes down."
As if on cue Linus emerged from the kitchen with
four plates of scrambled eggs. The eggs were covered with freshly cut
tomatoes. Linus set a plate before each of us and hastened to
retrieve some silverware for us. We ate the eggs and I found the
tomatoes to perfectly compliment the flavor of the eggs, it was a great
match. It was silent at the table as we ate, Keith and Nathaniel
thinking of returning to town and Collette and I eavesdropping on their
thoughts.
Keith was thinking of how he could fight the vampire
for Collette, how he would do all he can to vocally abject to the new priest
arrival. Nathaniel was thinking along more subtle lines, how he
would discuss his concerns with others under the concealed cover of
darkness.
Perfect, Collette thought, two different styles for the
same fight. She was smiling in elation.
It isn't
perfect, I thought to her.
No?
Not quite. If what you tell us is correct,
this vampire will be very powerful. It seems to me that he will know
he is being thwarted and will be able to tell who is hindering his
efforts. Is there a way to hide their activities? I agree that they
could help you by their efforts, but I feel that they would be placing
themselves in jeopardy.
She was quiet for a moment, I have thought of that,
she informed me with her thoughts. I will be watching over them from
here, and I will be helping them. I should be able to hide them from
his sight, to block their activities in a shroud. He will see them
physically, but their actions will be hidden from his gaze. She
turned her attention to both Nathaniel and Keith, "if it gets
dangerous, contact me and I will come get you. Understood?"
In unison, "yes." Keith added,
"mistress," while Nathaniel said, "ma'am."
I could see soft tears welling in Collette's brown eyes. She was saddened to be
sending them into the path of the approaching storm no matter how needed
it was that she do so. She pushed her empty plate away and stood
slowly. She crossed over to Keith and kissed him on his cheek,
"remember, call for me if you need help."
"I will," he said, standing to embrace
her.
They hugged for almost two minutes before Collette
pushed away and crossed over to Nathaniel. "Take care of
him," she indicated his grandson, "I expect both of you back
unharmed."
It struck me that Collette was saying her good-byes;
almost as if she was not expecting their return. Here words were
comforting, but the way she enveloped them in her arms, pulling them to
her breast like a mother with a child, appeared more final than the words
would indicate. Did she suspect that they would not return? I
wondered. I knew she could read my thoughts and had heard the
question, but she did not answer it. I crossed the room and shaking
their hands bid them a safe journey and good luck in their tasks.
"Thank you," Keith said waiting for Collette
to release his grandfather.
Collette stepped
aside and I wished Nathaniel a safe journey, as I had Keith. He
thanked me, shaking my hand with strength hidden beyond his years.
Nathaniel watched Keith as he walked from the dining room into the
hall. He turned and looked at Collette. The look was as Collette's words
were, like a finality, "I was wrong about you," he said, his
head slightly bowed, "and I'm sorry."
"Thank you," Collette said, drying her eyes
with the palm of her hands. She smiled weakly and waved, her wrist
limp, "take
care."
Nathaniel turned and he and Keith spun to the left
and walked away from us and towards the main door leading from the
castle. I could hear the drawbridge lowering to allow their
departure. A moment later the sound returned as the large, wooden
span rose and returned to its normal position. As easily as that
they were gone.
I don't know, Collette finally answered my
question. I can not see the outcome of our confrontation with Friar
Essex. I know he is coming, and that he is heading to town. I can't
see the foothold he gets on the town. I know Keith and Nathaniel
will hinder his efforts, but I can not tell by how much. It will not
be easy. Her thoughts trailed off and she sighed in
frustration. Sometimes, she admitted, the not knowing is the hardest
thing of all.
She had been
excited earlier about the not knowing, when the town had come, led by
Nathaniel to hunt her down. During that fight she was being hunted
by mortals without the powers she possessed; this was different. Now
she was being actively hunted by another vampire with revenge bubbling in
his black heart. He was angry and bitter, hatred seething from him
and he wanted vengeance. The fight would not be easy and she knew it
was possible for her to lose the fight. It was this fact that
prompted her discomfort.
We will win, I thought to her. I was not
confident, her unease was as evident as mine was, but she smiled
nonetheless.
Yes, she thought, I suppose we will. She
emphasized the word we and I felt a surge of confidence. The
inclusive tone of her thoughts resurged me with a feeling that we would be
triumphant, no matter the disconcerting thoughts we currently held.
Collette grabbed her dirty plate and carried it into the kitchen and I
followed suit; grabbing Keith's and Nathaniel's as well. Linus was
washing the dishes and we gave him the ones we had grabbed and he took
them merrily. He washed them and soon had the kitchen
spotless.
Collette bade me to follow her and I did. We
turned into the greenhouse and she said, "read to me," as a
thick, leather bound book appeared in her hand.
I took the book
from her hands, it was heavy and smelled vaguely of lilacs. We
relaxed on an expanse of grass and unsurprisingly a gentle wind kicked up
to dance across our bodies and tussle our hair. I flipped through
the book and saw Collette's neat writing again. It was more pages of a lengthy
journal that had begun centuries ago.
Do you still keep a diary, I thought to her as she
lowered her body against the ground, resting her head on my thigh.
Yes.
When do you have time to write? I asked her.
Collette blinked.
When do you have time to write? I asked
her.
She giggled.
What's so funny?
You, and suddenly she couldn't contain her
mirth. She rolled to her left, her check on my leg, and began to
laugh uncontrollably.
What? I was confused as to the cause of her
merriment, though her laughter was a delightful sound. It was the
sound of the ocean waves cresting in the moonlight, the happy cooing of a
new born child. It was the freedom of an eagles flight and the color
of eternity. The sound was beautiful. I enjoyed the sound of
her musical laughter, but I could not pinpoint the cause.
I watched as she
rolled on the grass and listened to her laugh. She looked at me and
blinked again.
When do you have time to write? I asked her.
She was laughing and I tilted my head in
confusion. What's so funny?
Her breasts heaved as she laughed until she began to
cough. Her body shook as her coughing escalated. She took a
few deep breaths and slowly her coughing fit slowed and then
stopped. That, she thought to me, then she began giggling.
That, she repeated and laughed a bit more. "I can't," she
said to me.
What? Then, "what?"
She sat up and I smiled at her. She looked
beautiful. Her face had a faint glow from her laughter and strands
of grass was stuck in her dark hair. Now, I thought to her, what is
so funny?
Breathing
heavily she thought to me, her words broken by the soft laughter that
remained, you, she repeated. You are what is so funny.
How so? I asked, still perplexed.
Do you realize, she paused, giggled, and continued,
that you asked me three times when I have time to write?
The blank look on my face turned into one or slowly
dawning comprehension. She wrote in her journal whenever she
required. Time was not a hindrance. But a moment could pass
and for her it could be enough time to write a novel. She controlled
time well enough to write at her leisure, when she desired, how she
desired. The power amazed me and I shook my head in amazement.
Wow, was all I could think, and she giggled.
She had demonstrated
her prowess of her control of time, causing me to repeat myself
thrice. The fact that I had not realized it and had gone on
undaunted had caused her laughter to erupt and her face was glowing in
happiness. I smiled at her and was still shaking my head when I said
simply, "oh."
She giggled again, suppressed it, and then thought
to me, read to me.
Still sitting on the ground, Collette lowered her body
to rest her head on my calves. I rested the heavy tome in my lap
just inches from her hair, stray blades of grass still decorating her
scalp. I opened the book and began to read.
* * * * *
It's funny
if you think about it. For the last three weeks I have been
pondering finding a replacement and today, as if willed by my unconscious thoughts,
I met her. She is an attractive woman with fiery red hair. I
first spotted her engaged in a heated argument over the cost of some
produce from the market. She had made a mistake in her calculations,
but would not succumb to the belittling man arguing with her.
She knew she had erred, but the belligerent tone of the shopkeeper had
sent her hackles up. Her spunk was delightful.
To be honest, I guess, I have been thinking of
finding my replacement for the last few years. Odd how life gets
repetitive after a few centuries. I have seen so many changes come
and go and it seems that each new advance is just a rehash of the things
that have come before. I don't know anybody anymore; it is
impossible to maintain relationships with the living, knowing that they
will be dead and gone and you will go on.
Yes, perhaps it is time.
I listened in as she demanded an apology for the
clerks rude attitude before she would make up the difference in her simple
math error. When her refused she pelted him with one of the ripe
tomatoes sitting in a bin next to her. The tomato stained his shirt
and with a calm tone she demanded again that he apologize.
Stunned by her actions, the shop keeper did apologize, his
tone one of shock mingled with fear, "sor...sorry," he had
stammered.
"Very well," I heard her say, "here
is your money." She handed him the coins that made up the
difference in her bill.
I watched as she
stormed away from the kiosk, her purchases gripped tightly in her
hand. I followed behind her, watching her as she walked briskly
through the crowded streets of the city. Her head was held high,
pride evident in her strong features. She turned into a crowd of
people and for a brief moment I lost her. Then she was standing next
to me, her voice dripping in anger, though I could see that she was
frightened, "why are you following me?"
Why indeed? We were standing next to a run
down building, home to three peasant families. Could I tell
her? Yes, I suppose I should.
"To give you something," I said and her
face contorted into a look of doubt, the fear still dancing in her
eyes.
"Look," she said, grabbing my arm,
spinning me to face her, "I don't know what you want, but I want no
part of it. Just leave me alone and stop following me. Got
it?" Her voice was thick with her ire, her words contemptuous.
I want to give
you something, I thought, willing the words into her head.
"What?" she asked weakly, her voice
tight. Her fear climbed, threatening to overwhelm her; the terror on
her face escalated as my thoughts reached her. "What is going
on?" Her voice was child-like, frail and soft, almost a
whisper. The feigned bravado of grabbing my arm not evident in her
tone.
"I want to give you power," I said.
I did not want her terror to climb any higher, and so I spoke the words
aloud, my voice gentle. "I want to train you."
"Why?"
"You are strong," I answered.
I could read her thoughts. The denial of
hearing my words in her mind was loud. Not possible, she thought, I
imagined it. It isn't possible. "Leave me alone,"
she said in that child voice.
It is possible,
I thought to her. In her mind I planted a vision of her riding the
wind, floating on a mist. I showed her men kneeling at her feet,
begging to do her bidding. As she witnessed the thoughts I planted
in her frightened mind, I could sense her doubt fading like the endless
night giving way to morning. "You can do this?" Her voice
still held the hint of fear, but now interest was there as well, a
tangible desire to have what was offered.
Yes, I thought to her.
"You can talk to me in my head?" she said,
sounding confused. Her fear was dropping and she released my
arm.
Yes, I thought to her. And I can read your
thoughts. We can speak in this fashion and I will teach you how to
communicate with others. Will you come with me?
Doubt clutched at her thoughts. She debated if
she should believe me, but the vision I had planted in her mind convinced
her I was telling the truth. Finally, "yes," she whispered
with a slight nod of her head.
Good, and I smiled.
I led her away
from the busy streets. Her fingers were white knuckles as she
gripped the basket that held her purchase from the market. Her grip
was tight and I could still detect the doubt and fear dancing just behind
her eyes. It's okay, I thought to her, trust me.
She nodded weakly.
We turned away from the crowded streets into an
empty alleyway. "Take my hand," I said, holding my arm out
to her.
Tentatively she raised her arm, paused, exhaled
sharply and then before she could change her mind she grabbed my outstretched
hand. Together we faded into a mist and I carried us in the wind
away from the town and into a deserted farmhouse miles away. As
quickly as we became the mist I resolidified our bodies.
"H...how?" she squeaked.
"I will
teach you," I said, my voice kind. "You have much to
learn. I need to make sure you understand what it will cost you to
accept my gifts. Please," I indicated a small wooden table that
dominated the room we were in.
She sat, keeping her eyes on me as I crossed the
room to sit opposite her.
I took a deep breath, exhaled, and slowly spoke,
"I offer you immortality," I began. I explained how I
wanted her to be my replacement. I told her how I would train her
until her abilities surpassed my own and then it would be her
responsibility to end my life. I explained how we were immortals as
far as most people were concerned. However, I informed her, our
lives could be taken by a stake through the heart.
"So you are a vampire?" she asked, her
eyes deep orbs of concentration.
I nodded, "yes."
She did not seem
surprised or shocked by the idea. Her voice, when she spoke, was
surprisingly calm, "I suspected as much. Is it easy?"
I read the depths of her question, was it easy, she
was asking, to live for centuries? I could see her father sitting
alone in his bedroom of their three room house. He was rocking in a
chair that squeaked loudly with each forward movement. He was
smoking a pipe and tell a tale to a young girl about a mouse that talked
when you held some cheese for it. She was giggling with the tale he
was weaving and clapping her hands at the antics of the clever mouse.
The scene in her mind shifted to the same young
girl, four years later. She was wearing a black dress and stood,
tear-faced, above a hole in the ground with a wooden casket resting
within. Her father had died and I could feel the remorse and loss
she felt. Her question spoke volumes, was it easy to give up the
past for centuries of the future?
"No," I replied honestly.
"Tell me?"
How could I explain
the anguish that runs rampant through your soul as you live to watch every
person you have ever loved fade away and become a memory? How
could I relay the depth of despair you feel when you visit the graves of
long-dead loved ones; staring at the cold marble stone? Was it
possible to express the loss, the darkness that is despair, colder than
the blackness of space?
The question reminded me of my parents and how they had
let Robert into our home. I recalled my mother's soft face and my
father's warm hands. Thinking of the past, Isabelle climbed into the
forefront of my thoughts. She has been dead for countless ages and
yet thoughts of her still brings tears to my eyes. I wrote before in
my diary as a child about her death, the words simple. I miss
her more than words could express, I wrote then. It's like a craving
that you just can't sate, or a word on the tip of your tongue, just out of
reach, the feeling that she will walk up my driveway as she has done for
years and ring the bell.
It is that feeling that remains, the felling that
perhaps fate is just being cruel and that your loved ones will return from
the grave as if they had never passed. They never do, of course,
just staying just out of reach of your conscious thoughts. Could I
explain the depth of that despair? With words I could not.
"Let me show you," I said. I held my hand to her,
"take my hand."
She stood from her chair and clasped my hand in
hers.
Together we
stood viewing a funeral. A younger form of myself was standing, my
face tear-streaked as I stared into an open grave. A small casket
was slowly being lowered into the cold ground as Isabelle's dead form was
lowered into the earth. The ground accepted her willingly,
swallowing the coffin like a pill, hole and unbroken.
The little girl I was fell to her knees and cried,
her face in her hands.
We stood staring at my form as I cried into a pillow
clutched to my breast. My right hand caressed an old, worn doll that
had at one time belonged to Isabelle. We watched as I rocked back
and forth, seeking comfort in the past. "I miss you," I
wailed, watching the tears fall like a stream down my much younger face.
We were standing in a large chateau, staring at my
form less than a century ago. I was staring up at a stained-glass
window adorned with colorful fish, "why," I cried softly,
"why did you leave me?" My voice was the same, the tears
were the same, only the time had changed. "Isabelle," I
whimpered, "I'm sorry."
Standing back in the small room the young woman with
me once again took a seat, "what are you sorry for?" There
were tears in her eyes as she spoke.
I ran my wrist
over my eyes, "Isabelle's death," I said, my voice sounding
frail and old, "she died because of me."
"You?"
I crossed the room and sat opposite the attractive
woman that had so willingly accepted my invitation. Her face was
soft, concern and curiosity flashing in her blue eyes. I
nodded, "Isabelle and her family were killed by a vampire named
Robert. He had sought me out as his replacement, his offspring, you
could say. I had confessed so much to Isabelle that Robert felt she
would somehow hinder my acceptance. I did not know that he had done
it," I paused. "No, that's not exactly true. I
suspected. It wasn't until years later when my training was complete
and I found it difficult to end Robert's life that he confessed."
The young woman nodded. "And?"
I took a deep
breath, pausing briefly to gather my thoughts. "When he
confessed, admitting that he had killed Isabelle, he had taunted me with
words. 'Her blood was so sweet,' he had said, urging me to
strike. 'Her body so giving.' The rage welled in my heart and
I killed him. I drove a wooden stake through his black heart so hard
it shattered his spine. I remember him staring up at me, blood
dripping from his mouth as he whispered, "good bye." His
last word was, 'daughter.'
"I had suspected the truth, but had denied it,
willing the thought away as a hand dismisses a butterfly; a gesture and it
was gone. He admitted the truth to prompt me into action and I had
completed the beginning of my legacy. I replaced him as he had
predicted; that was centuries ago."
"And I am to replace you?"
I nodded, "yes."
"So I will have to kill you as you killed
Robert?"
Again I nodded, "yes."
She held her hand to me, "it's a pleasure to
meet you. My name is Catalina." She was smiling her
acceptance.
I took her hand,
feeling the warmth of her blood coursing through her body.
"Collette," I greeted her. "Are you ready to
become?"
She understood my meaning.
"Yes," she exhaled once. Her eyes were fluttering,
anticipating the pain and transcendence to come.
I stood up and held my hand to her, rise, I thought
to her. Hearing my voice in her mind she stood. She was
trembling. She had accepted but fear of the unknown still clasped
her heart. Raise your throat to me, I bade her with my thoughts and
she obeyed. I stepped up and planted my mouth on her throat, my
teeth penetrating her skin. I could taste her life on my tongue and
I shuddered in excitement. I drank deep, pulling the very essence of
her into my mouth. I swallowed and felt her growing weaker.
Now, I thought to her, bite my throat. Feed off of me.
She had not fangs to puncture my skin and I winced
in pain as her teeth tore my neck. My blood seeped like a trickle of
a brook from my neck and Catalina savored my dark blood. She drank
deep, each heavy swallow adding strength to her weakening form until the
essence of my blood transformed her. She pulled her mouth off of my
throat and I release her. "Wow," she said, "that
was...." Her voice trailed off, she was unsure how to describe
the sensation.
I read her
thoughts. I could sense her feeling of power, the feeling that she
was invincible, able to take on the world. Her body was changing, I
could hear her heart slowing, taking on the agonizing pace of a
vampire. Her will grew stronger as the dominant tendencies I had
first detected as I watched her interact with the produce seller emerge
from her subconscious to take reins of her conscious thoughts.
How do you feel? I thought to her.
Like I can take on the world.
I remember her answer so well, the confidence, the
power in her thoughts. Sadly, it was not enough to save
her.
Behind her the door to the small building flew in
off of its hinges. Splintered wood clattered noisily as it slid with
the force of an explosion across the wooden floor. A tall man, his
ashen skin shining in the flickering torch light leapt into the room,
landing behind Catalina, just beyond my reach. "So," he
hissed, poison dripping in his tone, "you have found a
replacement." He stepped forward and grabbed Catalina, the
nails of his right hand digging into the soft flesh of her throat.
"Friar Essex!" I spat at him,
"release her!"
He shifted
Catalina's head in his taloned hands and licked her cheek. "A
tasty morsel," he taunted. Holding her in his tight grip he
continued, his voice a taut string of hatred, "do you think I am
going to let you die so easily? Do you really believe I would allow
you to choose how you meet your demise?" He laughed, shaking
his head. "No, you will die as I choose. I have chased
you from one end of the earth to the other and you will not find your
release that easily." His words were contemptuous.
"Release her!" I shouted, my voice
echoing in the small chamber.
"Very well."
I screamed as I watched him tear her throat open
with his taloned hand. Blood spilled from the wound, running down
her skin to collect in a growing puddle at her throat. He released
her limp body and she fell lifeless to the dirty floor. "As you
requested." He licked her blood off of his fingers,
"yes," he commented dryly, "a tasty morsel indeed."
I stepped forward my eyes twin orbs of hatred,
"you will pay for that," I hissed.
"Perhaps," he smiled a victorious grin,
"in time. However, I will not allow you to chose when and how
you die. When I allow it, you will suffer."
A flash of light
and he vanished, leaving me to wallow in hatred and denial. I fell
to my knees and held Catalina's lifeless body in my hands. "I'm
sorry," I whispered, rocking her dead form in my arms.
A thought came to me. Could I reverse Friar
Essex's intervention? I shut my eyes, visualizing how I wanted
things to be, willing time to revert to an earlier point. My
breathing escalated as I willed time to return. I could feel my body
growing weak, my will power waning. I had never attempted such a
feat, never have I tried to reverse the course of time. Was it possible? I
wondered.
I opened my eyes and found myself standing above
Catalina's dead body. I witnessed a bright flash of light as Friar
Essex once again disappeared on a moonbeam. It was a hollow victory,
at best. I had, I realized, willed time backwards. The sad
reality was that the small moment of time had drained me, I was not strong
enough to will time as easily as sending my thoughts into another person's
head. The magnitude of the willpower to bend time was, at present,
beneath me. I knew I would have to learn to master the feat.
Breathing heavily I fell to the hard wood
floor. I sat and stared at Catalina's lifeless body until I heard
the roosters crow and the dark shack fill with light. "I'm
sorry," I said again. She had almost become a vampire, only
Friar Essex's attack had prevented my blood from taking hold and aiding
her in maintaining her life. He had to have been watching me, I
realized; standing just out of reach, waiting for the time to
attack. He was clever, and I knew then I would have to
deal with him cautiously.
I sat there,
motionless, as the day progressed. I tried to understand why he had
done it, could it be hatred for me alone that spurred his actions?
We had crossed paths before and would again. He had not assaulted me
directly, he was not ready for such a confrontation, he had simply
attacked Catalina as I had begun her transformation into my
replacement.
My replacement. Again the desire to husk this
immortal shell was strong in my thoughts. Friar Essex had attacked
immediately as I had chosen my successor. He was not prepared to
deal with me directly, but he wanted to obviously. He had prevented
me from creating my successor, his actions preventing me from yielding my
life, such as it was. I needed a replacement before I could give my
life and that was taken from me.
He had guaranteed I would be around longer as I
searched for another replacement. But would I be able to train my replacement
without Friar Essex from interfering in the act? I doubted it.
I would need to rid myself of Friar Essex, I realized, before I would be
able to settle into the task of death. I knew he was watching,
waiting in the shadows that conceal a man's heart, until I chose another
to take my place. Sitting there on the hard floor with Catalina's
cold body lying inches away I realized I would need to grow stronger and
confront Friar Essex before he was strong enough to confront me.
I had felt the
first glimmer of the power I would need to wield in order to defeat
him. The first stirring of the ability to control time. I had
indeed willed time backwards, and even though it was but for a moment, it
comforted me. I would retain my life and practice the most difficult
tasks I could imagine until I was strong enough to confront Friar
Essex. Until he was defeated I would not be able to forgo my life.
I stood up and bid Catalina goodbye. "I'm
sorry, Catalina. I was unprepared. I won't make that mistake
again. For showing me how unprepared I was I thank you. I know
it isn't a consolation, but I am sorry." My eyes were moist as
I exhaled and became a mist to be taken on a wind and whisked away.
* * * * *
I shut the book and looked down at Collette resting
between my slightly parted thighs. Her head was resting on my chest
and I noticed her eyes were damp with the memory of Catalina.
"How long ago was that?" I asked gently.
"A long time," she replied weakly.
"Almost two hundred years."
Was it the last
time you searched for a replacement until me? I thought the words to
her, remembering her earlier directive to think when we were alone.
No, she thought, even her thoughts sounded
heavy, I tried one other time... her thoughts trailed off.
Is it written down?
Yes.
Can I read it?
Not yet, she exhaled, sounding exhausted. The
light in the greenhouse was fading as the day progressed to night.
Another day closer to the inevitable confrontation with Friar Essex.
Collette was tired and suddenly I realized how exhausted I was. It was
like the weight of Collette's past was weighing down on my shoulders, and I
suppose it was. She had accepted me and now we were preparing for
the final assault that would allow Collette to finally end her existence.
Together we would face Friar Essex and the thought of the upcoming fight
was tiring.
Collette stood and pulled me to my feet. I'm
tired, she thought to me, let's go to bed.
Sounds good, I said, stifling a yawn.
Together we walked through the candlelit halls of
the castle, found the bed, and drifted to sleep without another word.
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