Requiem of Humanity

by Catherine Stovall

  Celeste told her that destiny was a strange and fickle mistress. Anyone bound to it through divination would suffer for the pleasure and beg for the pain. Jenda understood that more than anyone else could have. It seemed her whole life was destroyed and rebuilt by a prophecy. Everything was so different, and she missed her human life and her parents so much it hurt. Yet, she couldn’t imagine life without Matteo.

  She didn’t know if it was possible that fate or destiny had meddled in her life. She expected that nothing with Belle’s signature on it was simply coincidence. Belle’s psychotic determination to manipulate all those around her was firsthand knowledge to Jenda. For generations, Belle had interfered with and destroyed the lives of the women in Jenda’s family.

  Celeste could see the hunger burning in Jenda’s eyes. “We should finish up for the day, Jenda. Go find Matteo and Soborgne and get something to eat.”

  “Thank you, Celeste. Thank you for letting us stay here with you, thank you for helping me to learn, and thank you for being my friend.” Jenda couldn’t be sure, but she thought that perhaps Celeste looked worn. Her skin was paler than normal and the blue lines of her veins were more visible. She felt the need to tell the woman how important she was to her and how much she appreciated her help. Jenda had tears in her eyes when she stood to leave the room.

  “I am honored to have you here, Jenda. I should be thanking you.” Celeste smiled sweetly at her.

  She was still an exquisite woman, both beautiful and graceful, but she seemed hard and inflexible most of the time. Jenda found it disconcerting sometimes how cold and controlled the woman could be. Then she would smile or laugh in her lilting voice and, for a mere second, you could see what an animated and beautiful girl she must have been.

  Jenda left the room thinking of Celeste and Matteo, wondering what they were truly like centuries ago. She drifted down the gilded hallways lost deep inside her own thoughts. The echo of footsteps drew her back. Looking around her, she realized that she was wandering aimlessly, and now she was in a corridor she did not recognize.

  The walls were a deep mahogany with a well-polished shine. Different colored and textured marble flooring was a common motif throughout the castle. This time it was rough and a deep rustic red with veins of black. The hall was littered with doors on both sides. Unlike the wing where their rooms were, the different entrances were not spaced evenly apart.

  She wondered what was behind the doors that held only a golden plate marked with runes to identify them. She wasn’t brave enough to open any of them and peer inside. Jenda could not tell what might lurk behind the doors, or what powerful and ancient creature she may disturb. Standing in the middle of the hall staring around her in amused curiosity, she finally remembered the footsteps. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around, so she started to backtrack her steps. Her stomach rumbled noisily and she quickened her step.

  Just as she reached the end of the hall, the sound of an explosion coming from within the building shook Jenda’s world. At first, she cowered against the wall, waiting for an aftermath of rubble or other such action-movie type reactions. When nothing came but the shrieks of pain and loud cries of battle, she ran. She ran through the halls trying to find her way back to somewhere familiar. The screaming got louder as she ran. She could smell smoke in the air, along with a stringent sulfuric smell. Her eyes and her lungs burned as she gasped air in and out.

  Finally, Jenda came to the head of the black marble stairs. Looking down on to the vast room below her, she could see shadows battling in the dense smoke. She could smell blood. Vampire blood was being shed in great volumes below. The first wave of emotion hit her hard. It nearly knocked her off her feet in a mental and physical shove. She teetered, trying to brace herself against the wall.

  Anger, anguish, fierce loyalty, and fear rocketed out of the people who were fighting and dying in the foyer of the grand castle. Jenda’s overactive sensors were flooded with the sensation of battle. She wavered dizzily, falling back against the wall, her head lolling to the side. Jenda put her hands over her ears to try to deafen the wailing inside her. Her stomach lurched and her vision was black around the edges.

  Jenda felt her body go limp and slide down the wall. In the past, she would have retreated to her world. She would have let these things happen and willed herself away to die in a place where nothing could touch her. Now, things were different. She thought of Matteo, Soborgne, Patrick, Celeste, and even Imre. They were amongst those in the battle or lost elsewhere in the smoke and haze. She had to reach them. She had to save herself first.

  Taking in a huge gulp of air to try to steady herself was a bad idea. The smoke and sulfur filled her lungs and she collapsed face forward. Supporting herself on trembling arms, Jenda hacked and coughed. Her vampire body was strong, but the poisons in the air were too much. A burning pain was running its course through her throat and lungs.

  Almost to late, Jenda remembered she didn’t have to breathe in the smoke. She was a member of the undead. They breathed because it is what was natural to them, but it was not necessary. Exhaling as hard as she could, Jenda expelled the last of the toxic air. She clamped a hand over her nose and mouth and stopped breathing. The feeling was slightly uncomfortable, but nothing like it would be for a human. Her body wanted to inhale and exhale, but if she concentrated, she could prevent it.

  Now that she wasn’t hacking up her lungs she could focus on silencing the emotions.

  Much as she did to close her mind off from others, Jenda pictured a large impenetrable iron door. Nothing could get through that door. Thinking for a moment about her lessons with Celeste, Jenda rethought her plan. She mentally erased the door and put up a glass wall in her mind instead. She hoped the wall would separate her from the emotions but allow her to look through in order to find the others if they were near.

  The glass wall did the trick. It didn’t completely mute the mass of emotions, but it did muffle them enough for her head to clear. The dizziness was fading, and though her eyes burned and watered, her vision was clearing. Slowly, using the wall to assist her, Jenda rose to her feet. She regained her balance and started towards the stairs when a tall blonde girl stepped out in front of her.

  The girl’s features were small and probably pretty when not screwed up into a hateful mask of murderous intention. She loomed above Jenda by least three inches. Jenda saw the light glint off the dagger in the girl’s hand less than a second before it lashed out towards her face. Jenda stumbled backwards, throwing her hands up defensively. The dagger sliced into her forearm, splattering an arc of blood. The pain broke the dam. Jenda’s eyes instantly filled with red as the anger and bloodlust slammed into her. Her fangs tore down into her mouth and a noise akin to a hunting panther ripped out of her.

  Fear caused the blonde girl to freeze. Fanta had told her that killing a vampire was easy. The other witch had filled Arianna’s head with nonsense about how the vamps were nothing more than leeches and parasites that only preyed on the innocent. Fanta said vampires couldn’t protect themselves, and that is why they relied so heavily on the witches to cast spells and weave the magical runes. Fanta was wrong.

  Jenda lost all control. She was no longer human in any way. Her hunger had been growing rapidly ever since she left the quiet of Celeste’s room, and now it was at full force. Ignoring the sharp blade of the dagger, Jenda darted towards Arianna. The young witch screamed and her cat-like eyes were wide with fear. She tried to shove Jenda away, but the vampire girl was too strong. The dagger fell, unnoticed, to the floor.

  Jenda’s nails dug deep into the tender flesh of the girl’s shoulders, bringing her down to her knees. Jenda did not pause—she was incapable of thought, her actions were as sure as Death himself. Her teeth sank into the girl’s throat, ripping and tearing without care. The blood was thick and hot, but the taste was wrong. Instead of the salty decadence she had experienced before, it was as bitter as raw coffee bean.

  The taste was revolting and Jenda spat the blood f
rom her mouth. She still held Arianna upright in front of her. The darkness was whispering to her. It told her things that she did not want to hear. It promised to stop if the witch died. The unconscious witch could not harm her now, but Jenda didn’t care. She could not take the girl’s blood, but she would not let her live. With a strong twist, Arianna’s neck snapped and Jenda let her limp body fall to the floor.

  Stepping over the body, Jenda picked up the dagger. Her own blood still clung to the blade. The bone handle held a long sharp blade. When she ran her fingers lightly over it, she could feel the human life that had once lived inside the marrow. Sacrifice—the one word beat against Jenda’s brain. As if the knife would have her know its story, information flooded into her mind.

  She could see Arianna constructing it with intense concentration. The handle was made from the bones of an innocent, the blade was hammered in the black fire, and the entire thing was cooled in the blood of its maker. Spiraling runes united the hilt and blade as a final blessing. A blessed and protected tool of the Wicca, the witch’s athame was full of power. During the most sacred ritual or in times of great need, an athame was the witches’ weapon.

  Jenda tucked the dagger into her belt and began to move cautiously through the haze of smoke, half wanting to fight and half wanting to feed. Trying to resurface from where it lay buried, her human self was battling with the darkness. She must remember her friends and her purpose. The hunger held her though. It would not let go of her mind, and when she stumbled upon a frail human girl standing just inside an alcove, it rejoiced.

  The girl was one of Celeste’s favorite servants, and Jenda had seen her many times before during her lessons. The girl recognized Jenda immediately and flung herself out of the alcove against the vampire. She wept madly and begged Jenda to save her. Several wounds oozed blood already. Jenda couldn’t imagine how she had escaped the madness below alive.

  The blood welling up out of the lacerations was intoxicating. Jenda was trying to pull the girl away from her but it was becoming more difficult with each second. Jenda could fight it no longer. The darkness told her that she needed sustenance if she wanted to survive the battles raging below. She could hear shouts nearing them now. The attackers were advancing beyond the stairwells. They would be overrunning the castle in minutes.

  Wrapping the girl in her arms, she whispered comforting words to her before she sank her fangs deep into the artery of her neck. The thrall of blood held her. She was vulnerable now to any enemy who would approach, but she did not care. She drank gluttonously of the clean and untainted human blood. The darkness laughed, the vampire celebrated, and the human inside her wept.

  The girl’s mind opened up to Jenda and what she saw there made her desperately want to let go. The girl was weeping. She was begging Jenda, in her mind, to save her. Jenda didn’t understand what was happening. In the past, she had only seen images from the minds of those from whom she drank.

  This girl was talking to her. She was telling her that Jenda must let her live. The worst possible image came to the girl’s mind and passed into Jenda. The girl was smiling over the top of a brand new cradle. Jenda saw no child tucked into the folds of soft blankets—the crib was still empty. In the image, the girl ran a loving hand over the top of her still flat belly in such a protective and caring way that there could be no mistake.

  That’s when Jenda heard it. The second heart beat. Faint and much faster than that of an adult, it reverberated as quickly as a hummingbird’s wings. Jenda stopped drawing on the girl’s veins but did not remove her fangs. She did not know if the sound was only her horrified imagination, or if it was real. Regardless, it was enough to break the blood swoon.

  She pulled back from the girl, desperately hoping she hadn’t taken too much already. The girl was still breathing, but barely. Her heart was weakly fighting to regain its rhythm. Guilt crushed Jenda. She picked the girl up and began to carry her. She couldn’t leave her here in the hall. The attackers would come soon and they would slay her without mercy. In desperation, she began to stumble up the corridor. Panic filled the emptiness that the broken blood swoon left behind.

  Jenda paused in front of the first room she came to and laid the girl gently at her feet. Jenda was unsure if it would work, but she must try. Raising her hand and holding it palm out, she concentrated hard on the runes. They swirled in golden luster until they formed the proper pattern. The words became clear to her, as if she had read runes and spoken the language since birth. In her mind, she spoke the words that the rune depicted. “Am comanda a deschide în numele de înger Ariel. I command you to open in the name of the angel Ariel.”

  To Jenda’s relief, the door opened. She lifted the servant girl from the floor and carried her into the room. She had to move quickly—she could hear the battle raging too close for comfort. It looked as if the room had sat vacant for centuries. A thick layer of dust coated the white cloths that covered the furniture. Spider webs hung thick in the corners of the room.

  Carefully, so as not to disturb the dust or leave proof of her presence behind, Jenda laid the girl on the cold marble again. Easing through the room, she searched as quickly as possible for a place to hide the girl. Jenda felt the guilt consume her as she looked at the small and defenseless human. Jenda hoped the girl would not die, and that she would be safe until help could come.

  Jenda finally decided on a large armoire that stood underneath a heavy cloth. Even if someone searched the room, it was unlikely they’d find the girl hidden in the wardrobe. She pulled back the cloth, carefully disturbing the layer of filth as little as possible, and tucked the girl inside on top of a pile of moth eaten quilts. Whispering a final apology, Jenda shut the doors and pulled the cover back over the armoire.

  She went quietly to the door and listened. She heard no footsteps approaching or other signs that someone may be in the hall. She eased the door open and screamed. Matteo stood just beyond the threshold, looking panicked and relieved at the same time. Not giving her time to recover from her fright, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into his arms. “I was so worried. We must go. The Dracul have attacked the castle. The warriors are holding them back, but we need to leave now.”

  Jenda panicked. “We can’t leave. We have to find Soborgne, Patrick, and Celeste. We can’t leave them, Matteo.” She argued even as he propelled her forward, searching nervously with his eyes for danger.

  “I have not been able to find Soborgne. Celeste has an escape route. She will have already made it out of the city. As far as Patrick goes, I last saw him slaying the enemy while laughing in glee. You have no need to worry about our friend. He is an excellent warrior, and he has his extra ability.” Matteo sounded so sure that Jenda almost let him guide her through the back corridors away from the bloodshed and the danger.

  At the last moment, she let the glass wall drop just a little. She sent a mental searchlight out for her friends in the castle. Matteo was right about Patrick. Bruised but not wounded, he was enjoying himself immensely. Soborgne’s signal was weak but not distressed. It remained almost hidden, as if someone else were shadowing it. An overpowering force was dimming Soborgne’s light. Celeste was the strongest of them, and the only one with the power to cover someone else’s aura.

  Jenda stretched her mind out a little further, willing it in the direction of Celeste’s suite. Forgetting to hold her breath in the smoke, Jenda sucked in a huge gulp of air. The pain was like a fire in her chest. It blinded her and drove her to her knees. She reached out for Matteo in desperation. Jerking the wall back up around her, she panted, trying to regain her composure before sealing her lungs off from the toxins in the smoke.

  “Jenda, Jenda, what’s wrong?” Matteo was at her side. “Jenda, please talk to me.” His voice was frantic as he tried to search her hunched body for a wound.

  Between frantic gasps, Jenda managed to say, “Celeste. They’ve gotten to Celeste.” Jenda clutched at the fading pain in her breast where she felt Celeste’s torment.

  �
�Is she alive? Where is she, Jenda?” Matteo was pulling her to her feet. He was trying to lift her, but she stopped him. She began to run.

  They ran as fast as they could through the corridors. They avoided the areas where the battle waged the strongest, hoping to reach their destination in time. They had to get to Celeste before it was too late. Their friend needed them. Jenda could not voice the pain and agony that came to her from The Lady.

  Turning a corner in the hall, they could see two figures standing in front of a pair of large windows. They were not fighting. In fact, one of them leaned heavily on the larger of the two. As the window burst outward and the night breeze filled the corridor, Jenda could see the smaller of the two figures had long, raven black hair blowing in the wind.

  Jenda began to run, calling out her best friend’s name in terror. Soborgne turned for just a moment and waved her hand in a saddened gesture of goodbye before the man she was with scooped her up and leapt out the window. Jenda fell to her knees. Her only word was a single syllable repeated over and over again in a mantra of betrayal. “No, no, no, no, no.”

  Matteo grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. “We will find her, my love. Right now, we must save Celeste.”

  Jenda was sobbing, but she continued to run towards Celeste’s suit. The hallways here were filling with the thick acrid smoke as well. They finally came to Celeste’s wing, and the shock of the destruction sent them both skidding to a halt and colliding into each other. The once gleaming sculptures lay smashed and wasted at their feet. Even the intricately designed Medusas lay annihilated by the doors. Someone had used explosives to blow open the immense onyx doors.

  Matteo and Jenda eased down the hall, walking carefully on top of the checkerboard of white and black ruble. Where the doors once were, a gaping hole loomed up in front of them like an open mouth. The jagged structure jutted down like razor sharp teeth. There didn’t seem to be any movement beyond the doors, but they were on high alert. If any more of the Dracul were lurking there, they would not catch the castle’s inhabitants off guard.