The Vampire Memoirs

by Mara Mccuniff

  He felt different. He seemed smaller and thinner, and he was so cold. I made a promise to myself to feed him better and warm him up with a nice big fire by the hearth. I would have done anything for him; I loved him so much…

  "Take him away," he said, and I heard some shuffling noises behind me. Then some people moved past us, carrying a large man, whose hand suddenly gripped my shoulder as he passed by. I looked up abruptly and into this man's faintly red eyes, and he had such a look of sadness and hopelessness as I'd never seen. And he was beginning to look familiar to me…

  Gaar flung the man's hand away from my shoulder and waved all the people away. We were alone now. It was all over; I was safe now. He held my head against his shoulder and patted me gently as he spoke.

  "It needn't have been this way," he whispered. "You needn't have caused yourself so much pain, if only you'd come to me before… But now it's all over. Look at me, Mara. Look at your destiny…"

  I obeyed him without hesitation, and my look of bliss was instantly replaced by betrayal and horror. Agyar! I was in Agyar's arms! Where was Gaar?

  I yelled and tried to pull away from him, but his grip was inhumanly strong, and all my kicks and pummels that would have hurt any normal man bothered him not at all. He held me out before him in both arms, and he opened his mouth to show needle-sharp teeth within.

  I opened my own mouth wide and tried with all my might to scream, but nothing escaped but a few quick gasps. And those eyes began to burn again, only this time I was too panicked, too angry, too hysterical to succumb to them completely.

  "It's no use struggling, Mara," he said very calmly. "You will be mine."

  Not if I could help it. But then, I couldn't. Slowly he pulled me toward him, toward his smiling, fanged face and made me kiss him. I did my best to keep my lips shut tightly, but I could not shut my eyes—not while his were burning so.

  I was completely immobile in his arms, and I tried to scream again, but no sound would come out. Soon I felt his face pressed against my shoulder, and I shut my eyes out of sheer terror as the pain came again.

  I think I whimpered a little while he sucked. Only the prick itself hurts; the rest is warm, soothing, calming—almost euphoric, even if the victim is not willing—and I was certainly not willing.

  I heard a scream, and I couldn't tell if it was coming from me or from my soul. And the rest was oblivion.

  Chapter 13

  I awoke to the sound of stone grinding against stone. I could not yet open my eyes, for they felt so stiff, and I was still so sleepy.

  The grinding stopped, and I felt a light rush of cool air falling onto my face. I breathed in softly and wondered why my chest felt so stiff, as well.

  A minute passed before I could open my eyes again, and when I did, I saw the face of a strangely familiar man peering over at me. I said nothing to him, but only blinked over and over again, trying to force the cobwebs from my mind and remember who he was.

  I opened my lips a little to speak but was stopped by an extremely dry throat. I tried to swallow, but there was nothing to swallow, of course. The man smiled slightly at me and reached his hand out. I still couldn't remember who he was, but I raised my own hand to his and let him pull me up into a sitting position.

  "Welcome back," he said. "I hope you've slept well." I still would not speak, but only threw him a confused look and cast several furtive glances around the room.

  I had never seen this place before. It was a strange room, with walls entirely of stone, only visible due to several torches on each wall, casting an eerie glow with their flames. But what struck me was all the boxes that lined each wall. There were about six of them in all, each of them large enough for a man to lie in. And I? I was sitting in a huge stone container, on an even larger stone platform in the center of the room. An identical container lay just to my right. I was confused; what are these things, and what are they for? I wondered.

  "You've gone through quite a lot these past few days, Mara…" the man started again. He knew my name, too. "You might not… remember very much of it."

  "I don't…" I began, but had to stop and cough due to my dry throat. I continued coughing as the man reached into my box, lifted me out, and put me gently onto my feet.

  "Are you all right?" he asked over my coughing.

  I nodded. "Just confused," I whispered. "I don't remember anything. These past few days? What past few days?"

  "You ought to remember some of it soon, my dear," he reassured. "Weddings can do things like that to women, it seems."

  "W-weddings?" I stammered. "Um… whose wedding?"

  He laughed a little. "Whose? Why, yours, of course!"

  "M-mine?" I asked. "You mean… I was just married?"

  "Of course, darling," he said. "And oh, what a spectacle you made of yourself!"

  "Uh… yes," I whispered. "Yes, I suppose I did." He began guiding me toward a small stairway behind me, and I wasn't certain what I was supposed to be feeling at that moment: Fear? Shame? Joy? Horror?

  "My husband, then," I whispered as we ascended the stairs. "You're… my husband."

  He said nothing, but only nodded emphatically.

  "I'm… I didn't know," I said. "I mean—I didn't remember. I'm sorry, sir. Everything's so confused."

  "I understand," he said. "As I said, you will remember me. Soon."

  The stairs led up to what apparently was a kitchen. I saw some servants bustling around us, and some of them left the room as soon as we entered. They seemed so strange to me then—I couldn't quite figure out why. My mouth was starting to water as I watched them go back and forth about their business, and it reminded me of how thirsty I was.

  The servants who had left earlier soon returned, carrying a tray of mugs. And the strangest looking things were following them. I thought they were animals at first, but then they were walking upright. They were those pale, hairless, dirty things with bright-red eyes and nasty-looking teeth, and they smelled awful. They raced for the tray of mugs as soon as it was set down and gulped down the contents.

  I should have been frightened or even horrified at the sight of these vile creatures, but instead their "inhumanness" fascinated me. I wanted to look at one more closely, perhaps even talk to one, if they could. I began moving toward them but was stopped by a hand at my shoulder. It was my husband, and he shook his head at me. Then he said something.

  "Huh?" I said, snapping out of my fascinated trance. "What was that?"

  "I said we'll be eating elsewhere," he said. "And far better food than what they eat…"

  "Oh," I said. "Oh. Yes. Of course," I said, letting him lead me from the kitchen by my hand. But I didn't really want to leave. The smells in mere were so good, and the aroma of whatever those creatures had drunk was just starting to drift into my nostrils. I hoped my husband would at least let me have some of that.

  I was led through endless hallways and up one flight of stairs, and through even more hallways, until we arrived at a beautifully decorated guest room. He sat me down onto one of the couches and kissed my cheek quickly.

  "You'll be dining any moment, darling," he murmured. "I only need to fetch your wedding gift…"

  "My wedding gift?" I echoed. "You've gotten me a wedding gift? That's so generous of you."

  "More than generous, darling. It was… necessary, in a way."

  "And then we'll be dining together, right?" I asked. "I think I may faint if I don't eat soon. And I'm so thirsty."

  "It'll only be a few moments, dear," he murmured. "And then it'll all be over." And with that, he bade me wait for him until he returned with my gift. I could hardly contain my excitement waiting, either. I felt so strange about everything that had happened so far; here I wake up one day and find that I've been married! And if I could only remember my husband's name. It was disgraceful that I couldn't even remember my own husband's name when he obviously remembered mine. But he didn't seem to mind; he acted as though I shouldn't be remembering anything until it "all came back to me." I w
onder what had happened over those few days? He said I'd made a spectacle of myself. Oh, gods, I was probably drunk out of my skull or something, which seemed odd to me, considering that I never was much of a drinker. Maybe they were especially strong drinks…

  I didn't recognize the dress I was wearing. It was a long, bright-red thing, and if it was my wedding dress, it certainly was an unusual one. I glanced around the room for some sort of looking glass to see myself in, but I could find none. Oh, why couldn't I remember anything??

  There was a quick knock at the door, and it opened before I could rise, and my husband stepped inside. And behind him stepped a young lady—perhaps thirteen or fourteen—and he waited for her to stand before me before he shut the door again.

  "This is Lara," he announced, placing a hand on her shoulder. "She is my gift to you."

  Now that was confusing.

  "My… gift?" I asked. "Her?"

  "Yes," he said. "She'll see to all your needs from now on. Forever."

  "I don't understand," I said. "My gift? I don't—" Then his intentions dawned on me, and I gasped quietly.

  "Oh," I said. "You mean she's to be my… servant?"

  "Yes," he said. "Exactly. And she'll see to it that you dine tonight." Then he moved to my side and kissed my cheek again.

  "Enjoy your gift, darling," he whispered. "May she serve you well."

  "But I—"

  "And… I'm sorry to tell you this, but we won't be eating together tonight."

  "But why not?" I protested. "This is our first night together. Isn't it?"

  "It is," he agreed, "But I think you might prefer to dine alone. It… is your first time, after all."

  I gave him no reply, but only watched him quizzically as he nodded his head once and, giving the girl a quick look, left the room. And then we were alone, just me and this girl, my "gift" that I knew I couldn't actually accept. She was supposed to be my personal slave, it seemed, and I wasn't given the opportunity to explain how I felt about that to him. So now what? Do I order her to fetch some food, or do I get it myself? I don't understand why this husband of mine refuses to dine with me; is he angry with me? Does he—

  "Will you be… eating soon, mistress?"

  I snapped out of my thoughts and looked at the girl. She watched me with big, sad, almost frightened brown eyes, as though she would be afraid of my answer, somehow.

  "Uh…" I stammered, clearing my thoughts. "I… certainly hope so. I take it you're supposed to bring it to me?"

  "Yes," she said. "I am… supposed to supply your first meal." She had the most interesting smell. I was very tempted to just stand up and start sniffing at her, but then restrained myself immediately, wondering where in the world such a bizarre notion came from.

  "Well…" I began, "I don't really like the idea of having a slave of all things—oh, nothing personal to you or anything. You smell like—uhh, look like—a fine girl, I'm sure. But perhaps if you could bring me something—if only as a favor to me."

  "I don't understand, mistress."

  "Well, what I mean is, is, umm… I just don't…"Her smell was almost beginning to overwhelm me, and my throat was becoming so dry. I coughed a little to see if I could wet it.

  "Could you just bring me something?" I asked. "Anything? I feel as though I haven't eaten in days!"

  'No," she said. "No, I suppose you haven't, mistress."

  Please, not 'mistress,'" I said. "Just Mara. But please get me something anyway, and I'll do you a favor later. All right? And something to drink, too! My throat is parched!"

  I turned away from Lara and was about to become lost in other thoughts, when I realized that she was still there. I meant to chastise her for still being there, but then calmed myself and addressed her in a civilized way.

  "Lara…" I began very calmly. "I must—have—some food."

  "I know that, mis—uhh, Mara," she said. "Um… that's what I'm here for."

  "Then why are you still here?" I queried.

  "Because I am to supply your food," she muttered, a slight quiver in her voice. Had I made her cry? I wondered.

  "I know that, Lara," I continued as calmly as I could. "Which is why I'm asking you to bring me something. Isn't that what my husband told you to do?"

  "Um… no," she murmured, biting her lip.

  "He didn't?" I asked. "Then, what did he tell you to do?"

  "He told me… to supply your first meal here," she said, her voice quivering even more. Now I was really becoming angry with her, but I was also still confused. And that smell of hers! It was becoming stronger, clearer, the more I talked to her. My mouth began watering and I didn't know why, but at least it was not so wretchedly dry anymore.

  I realized suddenly how cold I was, and I looked around the room for a cloak or blanket of some kind, but could find none.

  "Fine," I said. "Then I ask you to 'supply my first meal.' And bring me something warm to wear, too, if you could."

  "You're cold, mistress?" she asked. I nodded, and she walked over to a dresser and pulled a wool cloak from one of the drawers. I made to stand and take it from her, but she came over to me and put it on herself. But she was much warmer than any blanket. I remembered how much warmer I had always been on winter nights when I had snuggled next to… next to… Why couldn't I remember?

  "I'm ready, mistress, whenever you want to begin," Lara said suddenly, and I heard under her breath, "I hope."

  "Uh—" I said, but wasn't sure at all what to say. I looked into her sad, worried eyes, and my mouth was watering more, and I couldn't figure out why. And for the first time, it occurred to me that yes, I was half starved—But for what? What was I so desperate to eat? The images of food flashing through my mind did nothing for my appetite, and yet I couldn't help staring at this girl. And she watched me, too, with her frightened eyes, and she opened her mouth a few times as if to speak, but said nothing, and she rubbed her neck nervously several times.

  "I think…" she said at last, "I think I'm supposed to help you out, first."

  "Huh?" I said, still watching her. She did not repeat herself, but reached into a small pouch at her side and drew out a large needle. She held it before her and bit her lip and fidgeted her hands a little before speaking.

  "In case you're not sure what to do," she whispered, and shut her eyes and quickly pricked one finger. I was taken a little aback, and meant to question her actions, when she held her finger out to me, the blood spot growing, and smiled weakly.

  "Just so you know… what I taste like," she said. "Mistress."

  But I wasn't really listening to her. I was mesmerized by her finger—by only a simple little spot of blood. I had seen far worse before; so why couldn't I help looking at it? I could even smell it now, and I had also smelled blood many times before, but never had it made my mouth water this way.

  She began to bring it even closer to me, and I felt my hand rising seemingly on its own to meet it. Soon her finger was in my hand, and I squeezed it a little, and my lips began quivering as the spot grew bigger.

  I yanked her finger into my mouth and sucked. I think I almost pulled the girl over in my enthusiasm, but I didn't care. I was starved; I had to have something, anything, to eat. Or no—not just anything. But I didn't comprehend just what yet.

  I sucked and sucked until no blood came from her finger. I released my grip on her and let her pull her finger away from me. It was not enough. I was starved; I had to have something to eat. I looked up at the girl, who seemed even more worried than before, and she took a step away from me. I rose from the couch and let the cloak drop to the floor. Fear me, girl? Why fear me? I wouldn't think of harming you. I only want some food.

  Her skin was beautiful. So white and smooth, and she was neither too lean nor too plump. She took another step away from me and rubbed her neck nervously.

  "Does it hurt, mistress?" she asked.

  "Does what hurt, Lara?" I asked, still moving toward her.

  "When you… you…" she said, gesturing a little, but I
still didn't know what she meant. She was moving away a little faster now, and it wouldn't be long before she'd reach the wall.

  "When I—what, Lara?"

  "When you… um…" She had to stop now. She had reached the wall. I was only a few inches away from her; I could feel her warmth from where I stood, and wanted to be closer to it.

  "Spit it out, girl," I said very calmly. "When I what?"

  "When you… bite me," she said, swallowing once.

  "Bite?" I asked.

  "Yes," she said, nodding her head rapidly. "The bite. Will it… hurt?"

  "Hurt?" I echoed. She nodded again.

  "Oh," I said. "The bite. No… I don't think so," I whispered. "In fact, I remember it feels quite—"

  I stopped because I did remember. I remembered the flash of pain, then the gentle, soothing sucking, and I remembered the face of a man who made me feel all of those things, and it was the man who was calling himself my husband. And his name sounded again in my memory; it came back in a flood of recognition, of images, of awful memories. Memories of my arrival there; memories of a moonlit night on a balcony; memories of talking about immortality, and hypnotic, glowing eyes, and that pain followed by the sucking. Then memories of myself and a man whom I loved more than my own soul, locked up together in a dismal room, frightened, tired, hungry, near the point of despair, because we knew that it would be our last night together. Then hideous, shadowy creatures attacking us both, driving us to the ground, killing us both. Or at least killing him. I was saved for the most hideous of them all. Agyar, he had done this to me. But done what?

  I threw my head back and screamed, and it was a scream such as I never knew I could make. Tears began flooding my eyes as I looked back at the girl, who was clearly more terrified of me than before. And I was just as terrified of her, for I now understood what I wanted from her—what I was so hungry for—what "meal" she was supposed to supply me with…

  I leapt back a full ten feet and screamed again. Lara cringed and doubled over, covering her ears from the noise. I had to force my own mouth shut just to stop myself, and I accidentally bit my tongue in the process. I yelped in pain and felt my tongue with a finger. Blood was there. I had bitten pretty hard. Or so I thought. My finger brushed against needles in my mouth, and I pulled it out quickly and very carefully used my tongue to feel my teeth. Sharp! Each one of my canines was sharp—needle sharp!