The demon pack waited in silence. The electricity of their anticipation danced in the air. It crackled around her like invisible bolts of lightning and raised the soft down on the back of her arms. Soborgne knew she was in trouble but she could see no escape. Her fangs lengthened as fear grew in the pit of her stomach. She knew her eyes were spawning from her usual chocolate color to black. Unable to control her vampire reflexes, she demurely bowed her head and let her raven hair fall in front of her face, a false act of submission.
Unable to deny him any longer, Soborgne’s pale hand timidly slipped into his. The heat of Andras’s flesh was a shock to her cold skin. She resisted the impulse to jerk away. She wanted to wipe her hands on the rough denim of her jeans to clear away his touch. Instead, she kept her grip firm and allowed him to pull her nearer to him. Andras’s arms imprisoned her in a cage of intense heat as he wrapped them around her. Yet, she shivered when his wings came up to cast a shadow over their bodies.
She did not want to look into his vacant eyes. She did not want to see the demon inside herself reflected in the dark orbs as if in a carnival mirror. Lifting her chin boldly, she hoped the ink black of fear and anger or the red haze of bloodlust and anger did not burn in her gaze. His expression gave no sign that her eyes betrayed her and she smiled sweetly up at her tormentor as if he was just another man she meant to seduce.
His words were silent whispers into her soul. Each syllable was a gentle caress against her heart. “Ah, you have come. My beloved, my darling, you have come home.”
She let him embrace her, wrapping her arms around him. Her fingers grazed his wings. Soborgne allowed herself to stroke them gently. Impressed with the downy softness, the irony of the contradiction between his hard body and the supple appendages was not lost on her. In her mind Soborgne compared his enigmatic presence to Hitler holding a stuffed teddy bear. A deadly monster with an angelic trait.
A soft moan vibrated deep in his chest at her touch and she knew she had him. Forgetting about escape, Soborgne thought perhaps she could seal his life with her own kiss. Using her fingertips, she gently stroked the curve of his wing and Andras let his head drop down to nestle into the curve of her graceful neck. His carotid artery lay exposed.
Soborgne grimaced as she locked her grip to him, burying her hands knuckle deep in the tender flesh and cartilage beneath black feathers. Sinking her fangs deep within the throbbing artery, she drew on it with all her strength. His demon blood boiled like lava. It scorched her mouth and burned her fingers where they dug deep into the feathery oblivion of his wings. Her veins screamed as they had in the dark cell beneath Belle’s compound.
She felt the sharp intake of his breath as Andras tried to jerk away. His fingers slid into her body just below the ribs. Soborgne held tighter as pain throbbed through her body in hot strokes. His movements were slow and deliberate, a deathly caress. He did not stab or slash at her, even as he tried to pull his neck from her bite. His breathy sigh whispered against her ear as if he was enjoying their mutual agony.
She could feel the scrape of his nails against her bone and the fire exploded in her heart. His hand encased the pulpy muscle, as she fought against her urge to escape. The world tipped and spun as her mind drifted out of her body and away from the lethal embrace. The disorienting shift colored her vision a dusky gray and the sudden heaviness weighed her soul down like a lead weight.
Now prisoner in a strange body, Soborgne lurched forward with several others. Her mind warred with the brutal consciousness of the body’s rightful inhabitant. Sniffing the air as it filled with the blood of a mutant and the prince, the lesser demon pawed at the ground restlessly. She longed to join in the frenzy as her jaws filled with saliva. In horror, Soborgne fought against the animalistic desire to feed, as she watched herself die.
The barriers between the she-demon, the vampire, and the girl inside her distorted and stirred. The knowledge that she belonged in the body of the beautiful, blood-covered girl with long black hair was an abstract thought. The pain from her body and the yearning from the demon’s form melded together in a tragic symphony. The urges to fight, flee, feed, and destroy raged inside the confines of the beast’s cranium.
Soborgne watched as Andras ripped her ribcage from her vampire body like a wishbone being broken in half. At the same time, her other-self ripped through his throat. The blood sprayed through the air and left a smattering of red speckles across the muzzle of the demon she possessed. Bits of bone pelted against the rough flesh of the thing’s face.
A bloody haze hung in the air as the demon prince fell with her vampire figure still in his grasp. The demons stood at bay, forbidden by the unspoken word of their dying prince. Soborgne forced the she-demon to venture closer, mesmerized by the sight of her body lying on top of Andras. Her own death became a grotesquely mesmerizing event.
In the final moments the whirlwind came once more. Soborgne felt the dizzying shift and her mind returned to her own body, though the taint of the creature still burned inside her. The softness of ebony feathers contrasted with the mind splitting torture of her wounds as she lay half-enfolded in his wings. Her body still struggled to gather breath into her shredded lungs from automatic reflex, resulting in a gurgling hiss.
Beneath her, Andras’s flesh quivered as he sighed his final breath. Face to face, Soborgne watched as the life drifted from his eyes. Strangely, she felt saddened that they had remained soulless and empty even in the end. The ebony bulbs were filled with nothing more than accusation as they stared up at her.
Soborgne weakened and she shivered despite the intense heat of the demon landscape. Gallons of blood poured from her wounds and flooded down to pool on the scorched earth beneath their bodies. Once it touched the cursed earth, it sizzled and steamed just as she had known it would. With a final gasp, a tiny flame lit her red hazed eyes and Soborgne ceased to live.
4
Jenda woke in Soborgne’s room. Her hands shook and her breaths came in quick gasps. She was used to the strangeness of dreams, spirits, and apparitions but seeing Belle once again left her badly shaken. She was grateful that her expedition into the astral plane was successful despite the fact that Belle’s information had not been exactly solid.
As she thought about Belle’s words, Jenda realized she had held the answer all along. Puck had not encouraged her to betray Matteo’s trust and risk her own life to learn about the book or even Soborgne’s location. He had persuaded her to visit the other side so that she could learn the final secret—Augustine lived.
After her encounter, Jenda had all the pieces to the puzzle. It became a matter of putting it all together. She knew that Augustine had Soborgne and the book—she only needed their location. Possessing a history as dark as the midnight sky beyond the city lights, he would be a dangerous foe. Jenda’s heart went out to her friend and she feared the worse.
Jenda began to form a plan. Once done she only had to convince the others to follow her lead or stand aside. Pacing the room as she contemplated her first move, Soborgne’s lingering presence began to wear on her nerves. The clothes strewn haphazardly everywhere, the slight smell of her perfume, and other sharp reminders of the girl’s absence seemed to stand out more and more.
Jenda paused to pull a corner of the heavy draperies away. A glance out the large window revealed a day that was still young and bright. With the assurance that no one in the castle would be awake for hours, she felt the pull to venture beyond the castle walls. Being only one of two, possibly three, vampires who could walk in the sunlight wasn’t as much fun as she thought it would be.
Returning to her suite, Jenda watched Matteo as he slept peacefully. Staring at his face, free of worry and strife, brought tears to her eyes. Whispering softly so as not to wake him she begged for forgiveness. “I know it seems I am fighting against you every step of the way. I hope someday you can forgive me for what I may do. She has always been there for me and I let her down. I have to be there for her this time.”
After
a moment of tearful silence, Jenda crossed the room to the large desk. Easing open the heavy wooden drawers, she found the book she had brought from the library while painstakingly researching the Tree of Life. She had no real reason for confiscating it from its rightful place at the time. Something about the book had spoken to her. She had felt something familiar and wanton about the way it had seemed to beckon her attention.
The smell of the ancient tome made her smile—it had always been one of her favorite things. She ran her hand lovingly over the brown leather before opening the timeworn cover. Gently thumbing through the pages, she noted that they were old and frail with a slight yellow tint. The writing was faded in many places, leaving some passages undecipherable.
At first, it seemed as if the book was the same as all of the others she had viewed. The author spoke of the same legends, cultural beliefs, and a variety of different locations. Jenda’s frustration grew with each gentle turn of the page until she found a picture that captured her full attention.
The artist had carefully drawn a tree, similar in shape to her crystal tree, but larger. An Oriental dragon with its elongated body wrapped itself around the trunk and a bird wrapped in flames sat upon the upper limbs. The dragon drew her eye and began the realization that soon overcame Jenda. She skimmed the page next to the drawing, her eyes darting between the strange fire-breathing dragon and the ancient myth.
During her research, she had learned that the Tree of Life meant many things to many cultures. The other books had told her it was not only a religious symbol but a scientific one as well. The words dragon, immortality, and rebirth pulled at her mind like an impatient child. The story told of a goddess who possessed a peach tree. Every three thousand years, the tree produced a fruit that would make whoever ate it immortal.
Old memories snuck in and wrapped themselves around her thoughts. The words “she will rise” echoed inside her mind. Visions of Soborgne’s car covered in blood filled her sight. Belle’s heady laughter drifted around her. The prophecy seemed to haunt her every moment. Dozens of similarities and just as many differences in the stories she had studied left her staggering with confusion.
As Jenda rubbed at the ache building in the center of her forehead, the pieces of the puzzle finally knitted themselves together. Mumbling to herself as quietly as possible she ran through the things she knew. “The Tree of Life is like the phrase Holy Grail. The term can mean any matter of things depending on the culture using it. The vampires, specifically the Dracul, see the Tree of Life as being the tree that imprisoned Lilith and Cain. Oh my God! I have been looking for the wrong thing. This whole time, I’ve been searching for the myth and not the reality.”
Jenda filled with rage aimed at herself. She wanted to slam her fist through the heavy cherry oak. Instead, she snuck back across the room to the table on her side of the bed and dug a typed copy of the prophecy from the papers within. She sank down into the soft leather chair in front of the desk and began to map out her thoughts, hoping to better clarify their meaning. Beside each line of the poem, she wrote in her notes.
From the depths of hell the demons rise, (No sign of the demons yet)
From the heights of heaven the angels will fall. (Only if we fail)
The children of Lilith must be wise. (Vampires)
In the Watcher’s eyes, rests the fate of all. (Matteo)
The Guardian will unite the darkness with light. (Celeste)
They will find the truth in the blood, (Not sure.)
Two, who were once one, will fight, (Must mean Sobo and I)
In the land where Etz Chayim once stood, (Tree of Life in Hebrew. May mean the tree where Lilith and Cain are. If this is true, we must go to the land of the demons. Near the Red Sea?)
Woe to those who fail,
For humanity will falter.
If the light does not hail,
Cain and Lilith will be reborn to the altar. (If the Dracul win, they will free Cain and Lilith and they will end humanity. If the demons win, they will sacrifice Cain and Lilith and destroy both heaven and Earth)
The pain in Jenda’s head pounded fiercely against her skull by the time she was finished. She placed her notes inside the book and closed the cover. The need to escape took over her every thought. She felt the claustrophobia grab ahold of her and jangle her every nerve. Going to the window again she looked out onto the well-manicured grounds of Vajdahunyad.
The day outside had turned gray. The heavy winter clouds blocked out the sun and promised snow. Grabbing a quick snack from their supply of bagged blood, Jenda put on her sunglasses and a heavy knit sweater. Yanking her hood up, she gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror. As it did every single time, her reflection sent a mild shock through her.
She had always been pale with green eyes and deep auburn hair, but since the change, all her features seemed more distinct. Her skin gleamed like flawless ivory, her eyes shined brilliant jade, and her hair burned red with gold fire. Her body looked stronger, leaner, and better sculpted. Her entire being had adapted to make her a beautiful and deadly predator.
She often thought vampires seemed similar to cobra lilies. Both the strange plant and blood drinkers lured in their prey with deceptive beauty and sweetness and confused them with charm. Once the victim fell into their trap, nothing but death and destruction awaited the defenseless creature. Jenda couldn’t help but find it unsettling.
She felt strangely about being one of the things of myth, legend, and cheesy late-night movies. Jenda turned away from the mirror, feeling unnerved and vain. A hint of excitement crept up her spine and the need to escape the confines of the castle resurfaced. She hurriedly penned a note just in case Matteo woke and quietly slipped away after laying it on her pillow.
Emerging out into the daylight, the warning tingle climbed her skin like dozens of unseen bugs. She felt no pain but her natural instincts screamed against the threat. Staying close to the exit, Jenda lingered while she pushed her fear away. After a moment, her aversion calmed.
Moving slowly, Jenda aimlessly made her way down the man-made concrete path. The winter tourists, dressed in brightly colored scarves and hats, mingled throughout the park and skated on the frozen lake. Jenda wandered among them, enjoying the anonymity. None of the humans knew her or the heavy burden she left inside the walls of Vajdahunyad Castle. The strangers in the park saw her as a pale young girl instead of the vampire princess or the key to the fate of the world.
The giant sycamores stretched their bowed limbs above her, providing more shade from the lackluster sun. The sound of humans floated on the crisp air. Their laughter and conversations drifted like the last of the fall leaves gliding down to the frozen ground. The sun drained her strength and the scent of blood was a light perfume on the air. The beauty of the moment cocooned her. Everything around her sparkled and seemed surreal.
Meandering listlessly, Jenda attempted to avoid direct contact with the people enjoying the public grounds. Her vampire needs and the lack of control she held over them made her weary. Memories of her attack on Agi caused a flush of desire and disgust to fill her gut. The sound of Belle’s voice filled her head. “The blood you want least to take is that which you crave for eternity.”
Jenda continued her leisurely walk trying to shake off thoughts of Belle, blood, and eternity. She continued at a leisurely pace, admiring the cold beauty around her. She felt lost in a fairytale as she strolled beside the lake, rested in the shade of the mighty trees, and stared up at the grand castle from a distance. All her problems began to melt away and a faint smile tugged at the corners of her naturally pouty mouth.
Jenda did not intend to stray as far as she did but as she followed the twisted walkway, the castle faded behind the trees. Only the tallest spires remained visible as they stood in harsh contrast to the thick gray clouds. Jenda felt a pang of isolation as the silence of the thick trees encased her. She missed her friend and her old life. Her future hung in a thick curtain of uncertainty at the front of her mind.
She had once been secure in the knowledge of who she was and where she was going. When still human, she had little interest in long-term relationships and no experience in handling anything beyond the smallest adversities. Plunged into the adult paranormal world, that all changed. Jenda felt as if she might break under the strain of being a married, teenage vampire on a mission to save humanity.
Tears built up behind the lump in her throat and a slow consistent ache spread through her chest. Jenda sucked in the crisp air, trying to hold back the flood of torment that wracked her mind and body. The cold air, tainted with the scent of mortal blood, rushed into her. Saliva filled her mouth and the urge to hunt in pure animal instinct raised its ugly head.
The darkness whispered in her ear. A sweet and seductive voice, it called her inner predator forward. Jenda’s vision swam as the bright green of her eyes shattered into a quick succession of black and then red. She felt pressure and sharpness as her fangs slid out. The hunger churned, a gut-wrenching pain.
Gleeful laughter from near the lake caught her ears and Jenda sprang into a full run. Her feet made no sound as she sped unthinkingly toward whatever unlucky pedestrian had uttered the sound. Anger and blood blazed in the front of her mind, pulling her through the dense undergrowth. A voiced whispered inside of her, pushing her to her limits.
She could see the lake through the breaks in the trees. Could hear the ones she stalked more clearly.
The stranger inside her mind continued to speak, the words changed from a seductive buzz to a menacing singsong overtone to her raging broken thoughts. “Humans. Lambs meant for slaughter. The smell of flesh. Lungs filling with the final breath. The flood of life and the dance of death.”
Requiem of Humanity Page 46
