Requiem of Humanity

by Catherine Stovall

  Carefully bringing her hand up to that place on her neck, she felt two tiny punctures. The skin surrounding them was tender and she knew if she had a mirror, she would see the whole area was black and purple. Soborgne’s mind twisted and fought against the wave of blackness that swam around her like the tide. Her strength faltered and she sank into unconsciousness.

  When she woke, Soborgne didn’t know how much time had passed since she had been safe at school, but she felt as if her blood was literally burning her from the inside out. The multiple wounds on her body screamed with heat and she tried to cry out but she was mute with agony. Slowly the pain started to subside and she heard a woman’s voice say, “Not too much. We don’t want to change her yet.” Soborgne had no idea what the woman was talking about but she was grateful that the woman made the pain stop.

  Then her savior came into view. Leaning over Soborgne was a tall woman with blonde, curly hair and icy, blue eyes; so blue they seemed colorless. Then suddenly, as if by illusion, the blue darkened into black and black gave way to crimson. The woman lifted Soborgne’s wrist to her mouth and the stinging came again. The woman took several large draughts of liquid. With each pull, Soborgne’s heart skittered and threatened to stop.

  She stopped then and dropped Soborgne’s wrist onto the table where she lay with a thud. As her eyes changed back to the icy blue, she clucked at Soborgne and told her to lie still. Then the pain began again. It wasn’t the burning agony that she had just escaped, but the pure piercing pain of a needle. The woman began stitching Soborgne’s wounds closed again. Unable to bear anymore, Soborgne shrieked in anguish before merciful darkness closed in.

  She thought that she had woken other times to feel the burning pain again but she couldn’t be sure. It may have been a nightmare reminding her of the tortures the woman and her unseen accomplice had caused her. Everything was fuzzy like she had been submerged in a thick cloud of smoke and the only thing that was clear was the feeling of pain.

  Soborgne wondered how long she had lain in the gloom alone and injured. Was she to stay here until her wounds festered and the infection killed her? Was she going to starve to death? Would the rats eventually come to clean her bones like they did in the late night horror movies she used to love? Jenda would be angry with me for that little remark, Soborgne thought. She’s always scolding me for being so morbid.

  The thought of her best friend made Soborgne begin to cry. She tried to control it; each sob wracked her broken body with pain. She knew everyone would think she was dead. Her parents, Jenda, and all her friends would be mourning her already. The physical and emotional pain caused by this knowledge was wearing on her quickly and her mind became fuzzy. That’s when she heard the sound.

  A rapid and steady thrumming seemed to be coming from all around her. Her mind immediately focused and her throat tightened. She felt hunger or thirst or rage, she couldn’t isolate which it was. The sound grew louder and louder as if something was growing closer. It reminded her of the sound of wings beating. Her mother’s Green Wing Macaw had sounded something like that when he decided to fly through the house. This sound had some other quality, though. She couldn’t quite place it, but it became more defined the closer it moved towards her. She was certain that the sound was more liquid than not.

  Fearful of what it might be, Soborgne lay very still trying to ignore the strange reactions building inside her. Suddenly a faint light appeared and she could make out the shadow of a stairway. There was a muted sound of feet shuffling but it was buried under the thrumming. The light grew brighter and pretty soon there was a shadowy figure visible at the foot of the stairwell.

  The sound was coming from the girl that cautiously approached Soborgne. She carried with her a bag that smelled of chemicals and Soborgne had to force herself not to cringe. She wondered if the foul smelling chemical was what caused the burning pain? The girl hadn’t noticed that Soborgne was conscious and was working her way towards where she was lying. Things became clearer as Soborgne, trying not to cry out, concentrated on the only thing that wasn’t scaring her—the thrum thrum thrum sound that seemed to be coming from the girl herself. It was lulling Soborgne into a state of calm.

  Using the sound to focus her thoughts, Soborgne realized several things simultaneously. She was lying in a basement without windows, she was in a cell made from metal bars that was around four feet by six feet, and the girl was completely unaware that she was awake as she dug out the key to the door. A plan was forming in her head and as she thought about it, the strange emotion was growing stronger. She still couldn’t understand the insane mix of cravings and anger that twisted inside her, but it was helping her focus.

  Soborgne knew she would only have one shot. With her injuries, she wouldn’t be much of a fighter but if she could leap on the unsuspecting girl and catch her by surprise, she would have a chance. The girl opened the door, not bothering to pull it closed behind her as she stepped in the cage. Soborgne concentrated with all her might to control her breathing and not to peek beneath her lashes. She could feel the girl kneel down beside her. She could smell the putrid smell of earth, sweat, and something sweet mixed together. It filled her nostrils and made the strange sensation grow so strong she almost lost control. The thrumming noise that came from the girl was almost deafening.

  Soborgne heard the unzipping of the bag but she waited. She had to be sure her attack came at the right moment. Then the girl’s hand reached out and timidly touched Soborgne’s left arm. Soborgne sprang like a jungle cat. Her plan was to grab the girl and slam her head into the thick metal bars. She hoped this would render the girl unconscious so she could make her escape. She had no idea what awaited her in the structure above. It didn’t matter, she had to attempt it.

  Once Soborgne had her hands on the girl, she slammed her small face into the bars as hard as she could. A deep gash immediately appeared in the pale flesh and that’s when the desires took over. Before she could process it, Soborgne grabbed the servant girl by the throat and sank her teeth into the pliable flesh just below the jaw line. Soborgne ripped at the flesh with teeth and nails until a fount of blood poured out of the girl and her screams died in a nasty gurgling sound.

  Soborgne had no conscious thought; she was driven by pure animalistic instinct. She clamped her mouth down on the girl’s throat and both bodies sank to the floor in an embrace of hunter and prey. As Soborgne lapped at the wound, taking strength from the salty liquid pouring into her mouth, images and then thoughts that were foreign to her filled her mind.

  It was like one of those old Charlie Chaplin films that Jenda loved, where each frame of the film was apparent instead of it rolling together. Soborgne was looking through the girl’s eyes. She saw her talking to the woman with the icy blue eyes, and to a tall handsome man. While in their presence, the girl thought only good thoughts of how lucky she was to be in their household but once she was far away from them her mind turned dark and hateful. She hated them and was jealous of something they had that she was promised. Instead, they had that girl in the other room that had never done anything to deserve it, and they were planning to give her the gift tonight. The servant girl’s jealousy was pulsating.

  Soborgne saw that the girl was sent to check on the person she deemed so unworthy of this unknown gift. She was carried down a long corridor and to a heavy wooden door by the girl’s memory. The girl raised a heavy latch and entered the room. Soborgne saw through the servant girl’s eyes that there was a petite girl sitting on the edge of a bed and she was vomiting a nasty red liquid onto the floor. Soborgne could feel the disgust from her companion’s mind as if it were tangible.

  The poor girl on the bed raised her face and Soborgne felt the shock of recognition. It was Jenda. She looked sickly and pale, her skin was tinted yellow, and her eyes were full of tears. Soborgne tried to focus in on the image, trying to decipher if this girl had really seen her best friend. The confusion was blinding her and the strange thrumming sound was weaker, making it harder to focus
.

  The fount of blood from the servant girl dried up, and the thrumming sound was silenced. Soborgne jerked her mouth away from the girl’s neck. The spell was broken and disgust and horror were quickly taking its place. Soborgne flung the now dead body away from her and scrambled to get away from it. Her mind went wild and she forgot her plan to escape. She only wanted to distance herself from the frozen look of terror on the corpse’s face. Soborgne turned towards the wall and covered her head with her arms, trying to avoid the glare of the girl’s unseeing eyes.

  Suddenly a woman’s laughter broke through the insanity, fear, and loathing. The sound was so foreign here in the dark with the dead girl lying on the floor. Soborgne jerked and turned her head to see the blonde woman smiling rather pleasantly at the gory scene before her. Her voice was thick like melted butter as she spoke aloud.

  “Don’t be ashamed my child. You have done well. It’s a pity that you have killed one of my most faithful servants, but it is worth this small victory. Don’t you think?”

  Soborgne stayed silent, staring at the woman in fear and confusion. What had she done? What had this woman done to her? Her mind was overworked and the pain in her body was revived after her struggle with the girl. She tried to stay focused. She tried to fight the shadows that were closing in on her, but she didn’t have the strength. The world went black and she was lost in the torment of her dreams.

  11

  Jenda passed the time by searching the room for weapons or a means of escape. There was nothing that she could use. There was a heavy armoire next to the bed, but no mirror to smash. The desk looked old and hand carved. Jenda doubted she would be able to lift the chair over her head, so she knew the desk was of no use. Through an arched doorway on the far side of the room, she glimpsed a sitting room of sorts. She couldn’t reach it with her restraints intact so she continued to search the area around her. She opened each drawer and checked every surface she could reach but there was nothing.

  Trapped in a windowless room, there was no hope for screaming out for help. The light in the room was created by what looked like an old gas chandelier that had been refitted with electrical wiring. Even it hung too far out of her reach, unless she learned to balance on one foot atop the bedpost. She rechecked the desk hoping for a paperclip or some other small tool with which she might pick the lock on her ankle cuff. Apparently, Matteo had been very thorough in preparing her prison.

  After every possibility had been exhausted, Jenda slept. She did not go to her world, she simply lay weeping until she fell into an uneasy, fitful sleep. Again, she found herself fighting the shadow creatures and again she was no more than an animal herself. She tore at their flesh with rabid intensity. A bloodlust rose deep within her and she called out with a ferocious roar. Her dream-self remained dedicated to survival and to the protection of the one onlooker to the battle. The tree was all she cared about, and she fought with strength unknown to humankind to protect it. Just as before, she surveyed the land around her to find the beasts were slain and she turned to see the tree standing on the hill. Just as she moved to reach it, the sun began to rise and she burst into flames.

  Jenda jolted awake still feeling the heat of the fire on her skin. She looked down at herself to ensure she had not brought the fire with her. Realizing that it was really a dream this time, she flopped back on the pillows only to shoot straight up again. As she had been examining herself to ensure that she wasn’t about to combust, she had been too distracted to notice Matteo sitting in the desk chair beside her bed.

  Before she could respond, he held out an armful of clothes as a peace offering. “I took the liberty of getting you something a little more suitable to wear to dinner.” His smile was genuine, and for the first time Jenda noticed that he made a visible effort to hide his fangs from her.

  Before she could be suckered in by his beauty or his kind gestures, Jenda knocked the clothes from his hand. She did her best to look brave as the smile on his lips was replaced by a surprised grimace. She preferred him to be hateful to her. She didn’t want to stay here playing cat and mouse. The strange feelings he aroused in her made her half-mad if she pondered it too long. Here was the man who had destroyed her life by murdering her friend and then kidnapping her, and yet she didn’t know what she wanted to do more—love him or kill him. The desires fluctuated with every beat of her heart. Could she do both? One thing was for certain, Jenda knew that she didn’t want to be toyed with. If he wanted to kill her, she might as well provoke him and get it over with quickly.

  As she waited for Matteo’s eyes to change and his fury to come forth, Jenda couldn’t hide her fear. She couldn’t help herself. Just as every bit of his genetic makeup was built to entice her, her own was made to fear and reject what he was. He was a vampire, an inhuman creature who lived off the blood of others for survival. She was a mere human and, in the natural order of things, his prey. Ignoring the desire to have his lips near hers, Jenda reminded herself of how deadly he really was.

  To her surprise, Matteo did not get angry and his eyes remained the vibrant color of blue velvet. He simply chuckled as he rose from the chair and scooped her into his arms. “Have it your way, Baobhan Sith. I can’t promise however that I will be able to control my own appetites while you dine, if you insist on wearing that ratty old t-shirt.”

  Jenda was dizzy from lack of food, the stress, and being so near to him. When the shock of the lewd comment on her state of undress hit her, she lost control. Before her better judgment could kick in, she pulled back her arm and slapped Matteo’s face with a force that would have caused a human to stumble.

  He sat her down quickly but did not make an effort to move away. Her hand felt like she had just slapped a wall. The stinging shot from her palm up into her arm. Yet she hadn’t even made his cheek red. He laughed aloud and Jenda felt a pull on her heart. His voice was melodious and deep. The soft rumble echoed off the bare walls surrounding them. She swayed and he caught her up in his arms once more. Looking into her eyes his face held an emotion that could only be described as adoration. He murmured softly, “So the kitten does have claws.”

  As he had done that first night in her bedroom, Matteo tilted her head back so that their lips were just inches apart. The difference was that Jenda wasn’t powerless now. Without thinking, her arms slipped up and around his neck and she tried to close the distance. Her self-control and sense of self-preservation thrown to the side, Jenda’s only thoughts were on the man, not the monster that held her. She knew she would give up everything for him in this one moment.

  Just as her lips brushed his, Matteo came to his senses and gently held her back. His eyes were full of passion but he became the fearsome creature she had glimpsed before. “Get dressed, I will return in a few minutes. You will find everything you need in the dressers, and the bathroom is just through the other room there.”

  She stood silently, still afraid that he would turn into the fiend that he had been. Before she could ask about how she was supposed to reach the other room, Matteo produced a key from his pocket and released her from the bonds. He gently removed the cuff, letting his cool hands linger on the chaffed skin beneath. A shiver of pleasure ran through Jenda, but before she could try to reach out to him, Matteo moved away. He was gone from her sight as if he had vanished. Only the sound of the latch sliding outside the door let her know which way he had exited.

  12

  Jenda stumbled through the sitting area, not even noticing the comfortable furnishings. She pushed open a heavy wooden door. The gleaming white porcelain looked foreign and absurdly luxurious to her. As she glanced around, horror struck deep into her heart. There on the countertop lay her make-up case and various toiletries. Her old ratty bathrobe hung next to a silky Kimono type robe that Janine had bought her for Christmas. She felt as if she had just been dumped into a tub of ice water. He or someone else had returned to her house while she lay unconscious in this unknown place.

  Jenda turned immediately to check the bedroom.
She stalked into the room wild eyed and angry. She threw open the double doors of the armoire and found her clothes hanging inside. She grabbed up the heap she had knocked from Matteo’s hands and found her favorite jeans amongst other familiar items. Shaking with fear and rage, her mind ran wild. Had her parents been home? Were they safe and were they still alive? The questions were burning inside her skull, causing a ferocious pain to build behind her eyes.

  The luxuriousness of the shell colored tile and sparkling clean porcelain was gone. She yanked on her jeans and t-shirt before grabbing a pair of old battered Converse from the bottom of the armoire. She loved those shoes and Soborgne had often teased her about her preference for them. The thought of Soborgne only fueled her fire.

  Jenda went to the heavy wooden door and pounded it with her fist. She screamed loudly, “Matteo. You monster, I know you can hear me.”

  She stood there pounding the wood with every ounce of strength she could muster. Feeling frustrated that her fists were becoming bruised and sore she made good use of her old tennis shoes and began to kick as hard as she could, still screaming his name.

  Finally, Jenda heard the heavy latch slide and she stood back a step, preparing to gouge the eyes out of the monster’s head or die trying. As the door opened she crouched into a position she hoped would help to launch herself onto her unsuspecting captor. Just as she was preparing to pounce, she heard a cool female laugh. The sound caught Jenda off-guard and she faltered in her plan of attack.

  The woman came sweeping into the room on Matteo’s arm. She exuded an air of royalty, a queen in the presence of her subjects. She positively purred when she saw Jenda. Again, Jenda was reminded of the Cheshire Cat. She recognized the woman immediately as the same one she saw at Soborgne’s memorial service. Her blonde curls were unhindered and her dress was much more severe, but she had the same heavy bosom and her face held the same inner glow. Jenda was sure she was the same woman.