by W. J. May
I look on in wonder at the sheen of her hair as the midnight-black locks roll down her back like the waves of the sea at night. Her features resemble a portrait that has been captured beneath the moon’s silvery sheen. She is the personification of beauty, disturbingly so. Her beauty is concealed by such sadness, and my senses heighten further. I can see a glazed look in her eyes that almost allows me to feel her pain.
My lids lower and I blink; the moment has passed. My ears pick up her footsteps, but the sound is faint as she weaves her way between the thick knotted trunks. The trees stand resolute and watch in silence.
I can’t help but wonder why she is dressed only in a nightgown and is alone in the forest at this ungodly hour.
I see the direction she is taking as she heads towards the bridge suspended over the River Trent’s fast-flowing waters. I know the forest better than anyone, and shall get there before her.
I take a deep breath and immediately know her intentions. Suicides have a different smell to other mortals, and as it radiates from her I find it irresistible. She reeks of death even though she is still living. My tongue moistens my lips; I can almost taste the young blood. Betrayed by sudden intrigue, once again I pick up my feet and give chase.
My steps slow as the bridge nears. Silent and still, I stand out of sight, gazing from the shadows. Like me, she slows. Her sauntering footsteps touch the bridge and she walks onto its wooden slats. The very essence of my being shakes with intent, for the hunger that eats away at the pit of my stomach is insatiable. It is years, far too many to remember, since I have tasted the blood of a human and bathed in one’s life force.
I close my eyes and can picture sinking my teeth into her neck, feeling the way she fights in my arms and hearing her begging for her life. My mind is taken over by pure evil and I shudder; it pains me to think what I have become.
“God, how I regret...” I whisper.
I regret what I called out for as I lay on my deathbed. The devil heard my pleas, and came and granted me my wish for a life. But what life? Living this way has been a sentence far worse than death. I never thought in my wildest dreams that I would become a vampire. Banished from the light, from every kind of normality. It hurts, almost breaks me to think that I am no more than vermin, hunting small animals or foraging for any scraps I can find.
Being night dwellers there are no reprieves for our kind; this is what we do, all we know, this eternal death is how we live. We live for the hunt, the kill and the bittersweet taste of blood. I imagine its thick texture as it trickles down my throat. Blood is much like a fine wine; it is an addictive thirst, one that I crave and one I fear can never be quenched. It calls to me each night through the darkness. My response is to hunt, since our time to feed is limited. Our teeth pierce the skin of animals and we drink with gusto. Blood is both our strength and our curse; it takes away our senses, any last remnants of our humanity, and turns us into monsters.
I can hear her breaths, her heart beat. My gaze makes its way back towards the bridge. I am enchanted by the girl’s sylph-like figure; as the breeze picks up her nightgown, I watch it play around her bare ankles. She leans down and I admire the graceful way in which she does so. My stare hovers as her fingers lift the hem of her lace-edged nightgown. With her calves on show, she removes the dainty shoes she wears and I smile to myself as she places them down next to her so perfectly as if awaiting her return. Whatever, I think, for those shoes will never again grace her feet. When she makes her decision tonight, one way or another she will meet with her death. I don’t have the power to forcibly prevent a suicide. If my hand is there and her choice is to take it, then the life she has will be handed over to me.
Surmising my fortune, I rub my hands together. Tonight will end with quite an unfortunate outcome for this young lady.
Her tiny hands take the rail. I watch with intent as precariously her feet follow. She lifts her nightgown above her thighs, raises her right foot from the bridge and throws her left leg over the rail. I can hear her sobs as they intensify.
I am intrigued, and stepping towards her I call out, “Why do you cry?”
Her gasp almost steals away her footing as her tearstained face turns my way. Her arched brows crease.
“Step back ... don’t try and stop me!” she shouts out.
“Do you not know the coldness of the waters below?” I call. “They will rip into your flesh like the fangs of a wolf. It will be a slow and painful death you face, for those waters will not be merciful once they invite you in there is no way back.” My eyes widen considerably with the sincerity of my words.
“I don’t care, I’ve made my decision.”
My expression dissolves into a frown, almost falling into the honesty of her pinched forlorn face. The pain she shows is no lie, that is more than apparent; it is deep within her. I can see how much she hurts; it is the same as I, yet I don’t know her reason.
“Before you jump, may I venture to ask why?”
“Why?” She laughs, tossing her head into the air. “Why not?”
My frown deepens; I imagine my forehead to be a mass of creases.
“My boyfriend was cremated today; he was seventeen. What life is that?”
I watch the upturn of her nose and her hand rise in an attempt to wipe away the tears as they spill onto her cheeks.
Her broken voice continues. “The doctors lied.” Her words are carried towards me on the strengthening breeze. “They gave him six months, but he only managed to hold on for six weeks.”
I see her eyes drop towards the cold waters.
“I’m not afraid,” she announces, and I watch the strange way in which she shakes her head. “These voices won’t leave me, even in my dreams they call out to me, telling me this is where I need to be, what I need to do. I know Jai’s arms will be there to catch me.”
I can feel the breeze as it becomes stronger and hear it howling; it acts like a musical accompaniment to our conversation. Its force whips around us, lifting and weaving strands of her long dark hair into the most intricate of patterns. With the ebbing gusts, her hair falls back into place, softening the contours of her face. Yet there is no softness to her expression. Her unblinking stare burns into me, briefly forcing my eyes to lower.
My glance takes a slow detour as it wanders back up to meet her pain.
“I have felt your heart ache; believe me when I say that I am no stranger to death,” I explain.
I pause and rub my hand down my cheeks. Why am I feeling empathy for this creature? I look into the depths of her deep-brown eyes, but this question I cannot answer.
“Please, what is your name?”
As a vampire I do my best to avoid conversations with mortals, since they are of no interest to me. But now, as I stand before this distressed maiden, I feel a desire to know more. I quiver in her presence.
“Rose...”
Her name stumbles from her crimson-stained lips. Instinctively I step closer, reaching out my hands. Her one-handed release of the rail forces me back.
“Rose, what a beautiful name. I’m Lucian.” Though my words are meant as a distraction rather than an introduction. “Don’t let life slip away so easily...”
I can hear the growing concern in my voice. My intentions have changed and are no longer to harm her. I take a breath and hold it in my chest as she leans out from the bridge to where the dark waters lie in wait.
“No!” I shout, and rush to her aid. “Rose, give me your hand. Do you really want to die tonight?” I stop and think. “Would your boyfriend really have wanted you to take your life when he probably fought for his?”
I glance at her for a split second and see a pause in her decision. She grabs the rail with her hand and I watch her carefully manoeuvre her body around to face me. Maybe it is the sincerity she hears in my voice or my words that win her over. The focus of her eyes holds me in the most intimate of meetings, for it is one where life and death come face-to-face.
I feel the soft touch and slip of her fing
ers into mine. My body folds and I cry out, as if I have received a blow. I feel an eruption of pain and pleasure as butterflies flutter around my stomach. An ache explodes beneath my chest; I can sense the rhythmical beat of my heart, one that had been forsaken long ago and I no longer own. No, I’m not mistaken and know what I feel; it is the returning feeling of emotion. Blood pulsates its way through my veins.
“What’s happening to me?” I shout, looking up to the sky.
Through my light-headedness, her grip on my hand tightens. Unable to cope with her presence and the feelings she stirs within me, I jerk my hand free and, after losing her grasp, grab at my chest. I see the terror etched on her face and watch in horror as she begins to fall back before me. I throw myself at the rail, leaning down towards her with both of my arms ripping through the cold wind. My hands grab the loose sleeves of her nightgown before locking my fingers around her wrists.
She looks up into my eyes. Our stare goes unbroken as the forest falls into an eerie calm. It is most bizarre, as all around the wind has stopped; it is as though it has taken a breath of its own. Both Rose and I find ourselves encapsulated in an unexplainable silence. I peer up at a startling white light that shines down from the heavens. Rose petals resembling crimson confetti float down sedately in the non-existent breeze. Within seconds they have vanished and the white light is no more than a memory. I snap away from this vision and pull her back up onto the bridge to safety.
I pick her up and take her within the comfort of my arms, holding her close as I walk away from the bridge.
I seat her on my lap amongst the forest leaves. Her skin is warm it presses against my chest. Her skin is like silk as it glides against my own. Strange as it seems, my usual cold exterior has gained warmth. Once again, I can feel the beating of my heart. How can that be, for my heart is no longer in existence? What is this beautiful creature doing to me? How can I feel so alive, when I am not? How can I feel a heart beating beneath my chest that stopped over two hundred years ago? My fingers wander along the contours of her slender frame and caress the small arch of her back. I pull her closer and feel her pull away, so my hand retreats before gently making its way up towards her face. My fingers hover a while above her cheek. Unconsciously I trace her perfection and the prominence of her ruby-red lips.
We pass a breathy exchange of words.
“You are my fallen rose,” I whisper.
Her eyes soften, but their colour appears more vibrant. Instinctively I run my fingers through her dark fragrant tresses, pushing their length from her temples and leaving the moon to play down on the open beauty of her face.
We sit on the forest floor wrapped up like parcels in one another’s arms. All her pain and tenseness seems to seep away into the undergrowth. Her fingers now caress my cheek in the same way that mine do hers. I can sense her lips as she moves closer, and not wanting to disappoint, I move forwards. My ability to love, to feel has returned.
“Jai...” is her reply.
Taking her hand in mine I am struck by the cold band of gold she wears around her finger. Struck by a pang of jealousy, my beating heart now aches.
Gripping her shoulders, I hold her just far enough away to allow me to take in this beautiful vision. Ebonised locks play against the bronze tone of her skin. The seductive pout of her crimson lips makes me want to kiss them as they appear to sit in wait. How I want this woman. Not the way a vampire wants its prey, but the way a man wants love to a woman.
Sometimes my senses do me no favours; I see how she wants another, for it is him she sees before her.
I would love to introduce myself, but fear it is not the right time to interrupt her dreams. Instead I pull myself free, removing my thick coat, which I drape across her shoulders before wrapping her up in its warmth. I place a solitary kiss above her brow and rise to my feet, leaving her hand to fall against her side, and once again my heart stops.
“Until we meet again...” As the last syllable leaves my lips, it is as if the breeze releases the breath it held and whisks up stray leaves.
I watch Rose’s beautiful dark mane as it blows free. I cannot leave her without one final glance, so I turn, allowing her an unseen smile, and then quickly and silently I head back in the direction of my family before they have chance to pick up her scent. My only remaining thoughts of her as I walk away and she melts into the shadows is that Jai was a lucky man.
I trudge deeper into the forest. As I walk, I shake my head. Who am I kidding? I feel that every sense I own is on the verge of explosion. My returning heartbeat was surreal. I can’t leave Rose there for my family to find. If she is able to make me have such feelings again, so strong, then I must return and find out more. Our separation is to be brief as I turn and hurry back.
I catch sight of her through a shower of amber leaves. She lies in a pose as if awaiting the sweep of an artist’s brush. With autumn behind her, she decorates a perfect canvas in my mind.
I step towards her with stealth; she looks almost too serene to disturb. Without uttering a word, I hold my breath and crouch down behind her, and rolling her body into my chest I swoop her up into my arms.
“There is something I must show you,” I whisper as her eyelashes flicker.
Her feather-like frame lies perfectly still, her fiery demeanour gone. I prompt her for an answer, but she lies in a daze. My assumption is that she is overcome by her suicide attempt. Life is not an easy thing to walk away from, something I know firsthand.
With my head held high, I had almost forgotten I was carrying her. Walking towards my home it is only the wriggle of her arms that prompts me to look down.
“Where you taking me?” she whispers.
I hear a spark of interest, and feel her return of spirit as she throws up her arms and kicks out. I can’t let her leave me, not yet.
“Let me go!” she demands.
Her strength has returned, and I feel her wriggle further.
“Be still, for no mortal has ever seen what I am about to show you.” I drop my tone, which is now low.
With my powers of persuasion, I enter her subconscious, where I can plant my wishes. Immediately I feel her body relax. My wish is for her to stay with me for a while longer, and I lose my vampire’s dark curse and return to being the man I once was.
Walking on, I can’t help but wonder, after two hundred years as a vampire, if she could possibly be a glitch to the rules, my elixir to life.
The trees open out slightly, jolting me from my thoughts. I am home.
“We are here,” I announce.
Tilting her in my arms, I place her back on her feet. She stands before me and I can see her fiery personality has been dampened by my wishes. I look into her eyes; her glazed expression holds a vacancy and she is without fight, which is how I need her to be. The castle is vampire territory, uncharted by humans.
The rules we live by are written in gold by God and his angels and state we are not to kill humans. Reading further into the small print, a suicide falls under far different rules. If my family were to return home hungry, Rose’s mortality would not protect her from their bites, and nor could I. Is this a risk I’m really prepared to take? I smile to myself, because I can’t remember my family’s return to the castle any night before sun-up.
I locate a slight dip in the earth, which is the entrance to our home. Entombed like a coffin, my castle is buried beneath me. Its whereabouts are hidden well by a covering of leaves, which I clear away with the soles of my shoes. Lifting the hatch of our makeshift door and taking Rose by the hand, I guide her down a narrow passage to a flight of stairs that leads many feet below ground.
“My castle wasn’t always below ground,” I tell her, though under my spell she shows little interest.
I take her hand and we make our way between unseen turrets and enter the castle through an open window, which leads into the master bedchamber. The oaken room is where as a mortal I slept for nineteen years. Every room is a shadow of its former self, the walls cracked and damp. I pu
ll Rose close to my side as we tiptoe through the candlelight and out onto the landing.
A metal key hangs from the wall; I unhook it and turn to face her.
“This door hasn’t been opened for over two hundred years.”
Her face remains expressionless. I lift a couple of lighted candles from their holders, keep one for myself and pass the other to Rose. With a quick turn of the key, we enter. I let go of her hand briefly and wipe away thick cobwebs from the candle holders, and then light the nearest candles on the wall.
“This room was made in readiness for my children to play in.”
The room is immense, the vast space a maze of gilt-edged mirrors that stand proud. What use is a mirror to a vampire who has no reflection? I watch Rose as she walks from one of her reflections to another, and standing back I notice her swaying. Her wide eyes seem to glisten as she catches sight of herself whichever way she turns. She lifts herself up on to the tips of her toes, and with her arms held out like a dancing ballerina she spins around. My coat that she wears opens out like a beautiful parasol, and my eyes are transfixed. Candlelight flickers intricate patterns upon her face. My eyes drop to her midriff, the curve of her waist. I can’t just stand here and watch. I will turn her tonight; she will become a vampire. But first, I will release her from this hypnotic state and if, when her senses return, she feels the same as I do, we will hold each other until night turns to morning. Then, like me, she will live forever, my soul mate for all of time.
Charging forwards, like a bird of prey I grab for her hands, lift her from the floor and throw her back against the mirrored glass.
“Lucian!” she cries out.
I fear her spirit is back. Like an unbroken horse, she kicks out at my thighs, her sharp nails piercing the skin on my hands.
