The Immortal door

by Lyra heart

  “Who are you?” she inquired urgently.

  “Max,” the young man replied. He sounded weary.

  “Do I know you?”

  “You know someone I use to know.”

  “Who?”

  “He’s changed. You won’t recognize him when you meet again.”

  “Who’s changed?”

  “I can’t see his face anymore. He’s immersing himself more and more in that world. He’s not to be trusted.”

  “Who’s not to be trusted?”

  “You should know. You’re the one that thinks about him and that woman. You’re the one I’m worried about. He’s looking at you now. He’d kill for you.”

  Max reached out to touch her and then refrained. She noticed his clothes were ripped and the eyeliner he wore was smudged. There were bruises on his neck.

  This must be the ghost of his best friend? He really had killed this guy! What could this Max have done that was so terrible he would kill him? She wondered.

  “Don’t think I don’t see right through you,” he snarled. “You starting to dwell on him like he’s human. He’s not human. He’s a murderer of innocent people. I’ve watched him from above. He enjoys it. He killed me, after all.” The train stopped and Max stood up for a moment and then to sat down again. “I’ll get off at the next stop. It’s coming up soon. They all lead to the same place for me… Be careful Jasmin. I will watch over you, but for now I can’t help you. I can’t sense how he’s changed. All I know is that he looks like someone else now.”

  The train stopped again. He gave her one last serious look and left.

  Jasmin’s father woke her up early the following morning. She couldn’t stop thinking about the dream; some parts were hazy already. Before she left the house she wrote down everything she could remember. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the conversation had really happened.

  * * *

  When George woke up, the tingling sensation had left his body. He had slept so deeply that he assumed it must have been late. Elizabeth was still asleep. The sun had not yet risen and as he looked into the mirror, he gasped. The creature staring back at him had eyes of a whirling palette of silver and blue. Golden hair that seemed to glow hung to a perfect jaw line and over smooth skin, a straight nose, and slender lips. He touched his face to affirm that it was no dream.

  “Well fuck me!” he whispered aloud.

  “I assume that you like what you see?” Elizabeth was awake now, combing her hair into place with her fingers.

  “This is unreal! I’m a new man!” Admiring his image was so pleasurable, but doubt clawed at his mind suddenly. “Will this last?”

  “Oh, yes. The transformation is permanent,” she replied confidently.

  “Nothing can change me back?”

  “Only one spell and it is lost to all our records.” Elizabeth reassured him.

  “I think I’ll take a walk and enjoy this new skin.”

  George left the estate in Primrose hill, walking alone as he waited for the sun to rise. No one would recognize him now—he could walk past his own mother and she wouldn’t even know her son. He felt like the most gorgeous creature on Earth. As the sun rose he thought about Jasmin. He wanted to dress better when he saw her next, have the mysterious attitude a vampire was supposed to possess, that je ne sais quoi that made his kind so irresistible to mortals. Now was not the time to see her, though. He wanted an adult relationship—he had been seventeen for ten years and it was wearing thin. Tonight he would feed for the last time until he found her again in her twenties. Then he would be ready, as would she.

  When he returned from the kill Chloe found him. She looked at him with the most peculiar expression, as if to say, “You have no right to be this.”

  “It worked,” she said. “You’re no longer the ugly duckling.”

  George replied with a look of confidence and superiority. He no longer felt an oppressive tie to Chloe—the House of Nobility saw them as equals. His beauty was giving him a newfound sense of person. George was beginning to pull down the curtains that Chloe hid herself behind. She was dependent on him to keep the secrets he knew about her, about Lance and Jay, and the fact she was from another world.

  “You better not forget who made you! I’ve given you everything you’ve got. You’d be aging in some prison if it wasn’t for me! Oh, wait! You want to age, don’t you? God knows why?” Chloe retaliated.

  “I’m sick of being a teenager, Huna,” he said.

  She snarled. “Stop talking to me like we are equals! You still must obey me, as I am your Maker! We need to learn more about the spell to open the portal to my world. Why does this ‘house of stupidity’ think the blood spell is such a poor method?”

  George suddenly felt sorry for her. “I’ll nose around.”

  She stared at him and then looked away. “I know they don’t like me all that much.”

  George did his best to be discreet about his investigations, taking his time over the months. After researching Chloe’s spell thoroughly, George noticed a fatal flaw in its design upon reading a volume about blood magic—a spell could fail due to the blood collected not being fresh. Blood collected earlier than a few hours from the time of death would jeopardize the efficiency of the spell. When the blood was collected last week they had waited twenty-four hours. There was no information in any of the books he read about how a blood-spell could be “fast-forwarded”; the conductor of the spell must still wait ten years between rituals. George knew Chloe would be devastated.

  The years slipped by quickly. Elizabeth introduced George to the social scene of the beautiful immortals. He noticed how she always seemed to forget to extend an invitation to Chloe. Sometimes, he wondered if Elizabeth had feelings for him, but then he would look at her and see her regarding him as if he was still that awkward teenager.

  Every year George continued learning the benefits of his new skin and its power over women. Wherever he walked, heads turned. People saw a supermodel wearing designer clothes with purposefully messy hair and dangerous predatory eyes. He felt the touch of human romance time and time again, making him feel on fire. Chloe seemed to be counting the days, living for the future while George immersed himself in the present. With the help of the house he had a new birth certificate and commendable job qualifications. He enrolled in a college in South London and was set up to live in a classy penthouse with money he borrowed from the house’s private bank. He spent his time drinking and partying. Yet, no matter whom he shared his bed with, his obsession with Jasmin remained.

  One dark December evening George ventured to North London to visit Chloe, as he did once every few days. As he exited the train, he sensed Jasmin nearby. Every fiber in his body stood still as she walked passed without noticing him. She was talking to some girl, laughing and smiling. She was thinner, her hair shorter and dyed a muddy brown. She must have felt a cold sensation as he watched her because she shivered and looked around anxiously. George was able to hear her heart beating and it moved him, making him want to taste the blood that pumped through her veins. He was glad she hadn’t seen him because he wanted to wait for the perfect moment to meet her again, whenever that should be.

  Two years later George finished his college education and was ready for university. He chose to walk in the same footsteps as Elizabeth and go to UCL where he pursued a degree in creative writing. During his time at the local college he had frequently seen Jasmin from afar, watching her grow into a glamorous young woman. He knew she thought about the events she had seen at fifteen and that those memories caused a sadness to swell in her. He kept photographs of her and even watched when she was involved with someone, knowing it would end, selfishly hoping every lover would hurt her so when she found him everything would be picturesque.

  Chloe hardly ever spoke to him—they both knew that soon she would require him for a short time, but that was all. She had returned to living alone in the house she had stolen from the dead woman. George felt removed from the weak vampire he had
once been, though now he knew the bar had been raised for his evolution as an immortal. After graduation he worked a variety of different jobs as he explored Europe. He often wondered what the places he visited would be like in a hundred years, knowing he would be able to see it all for himself.

  At twenty-seven he was wealthy with a flourishing social life. He returned to London—it was time to approach Jasmin. It was also time to begin drinking blood again in order to preserve his perfect age.

  His first kill in all those years was swift and clean.

  12

  Jasmin celebrated her birthday with drinks with her friends beneath an overcast night sky. She had just turned twenty-seven. She reminisced about her life, the good times and the bad. The Black Star, her local club, was holding a “fancy dress night.” Strangers and friends decorated themselves in outrageous little numbers and animal costumes. Jasmin wore a long pink ball gown with her hair held back by a tiara and angel wings strapped to her back.

  She had met a beautiful young man earlier that day with long golden hair and the stunning eyes of grey, blue, and green. He looked expensive, like a model from the pages of Vogue. She was smitten from the first glance. He had looked at her only once that night while she stood outside in the gentle rain, wearing a tight jacket and allowing her long straight hair to get damp. His eyes gave the most unexpectedly loving expression. Yet, he made no effort to talk to her, immersed in a discussion with the group of people he had arrived with.

  It was only towards the end of the night when they had left the bar near dawn that she saw him again.

  “I saw you at the bar. It’s such a dive, isn’t it?” He made small talk.

  “I kinda like it there,” she replied.

  “Then you have no taste in bars!” he said playfully. “I’m Marshall.”

  Smiling as prettily as possible, she replied, “I’m Jasmin.”

  “Pretty name,” he said.

  They talked as they walked through the empty streets. Jasmin had no plans for the day and as he seemed so alluring she was more then happy to spend the early hours of the morning in his company.

  “You know something, Jasmin? I really think I could get use to talking with you,” Marshall said as they walked together, enjoying the peace that surrounded them.

  “Me too,” Jasmin replied.

  If first impressions really were golden, this one was platinum.

  * * *

  It had been ten years since Chloe had touched the faint impression of Nolan’s hand. It hurt her heart to think about the spell, but a chance for it to work was available once again. She feared seeing that sad look in his eyes, knowing she had failed him. However, thanks to Marshall, she had vital new information regarding the spell that could change the outcome drastically. She would prepare for the spell soon; she needed help to arrange for the victims to be at her house at the same time as the blood had to be spilt at the time of the casting. She couldn’t do this alone without risking exposure, nor did she feel able to ask Marshall. He spent his time with the House of Nobility and mortals. He no longer looked to her for survival in this world. The idea filled her with bitter resentment.

  She had once thought to never bother Lance or Jay. Yet now they seemed to be her only option. Lying back in a bed of stale wine-stained sheets she closed her eyes and pictured the two young men in her mind. She sensed Jay had left home. He fed on a cocktail of human blood, drugs, and alcohol. She “glimpsed” his curly hair and rough skin, dirty nails and a jaded disillusionment awash with unaddressed feelings.

  As for Lance she found a stronger sense of self preservation—the guilt of the deeds of all those days passed now subjugated by rational thoughts, allowing his grief to fade. He had placed the blame for those actions on Chloe and had never touched a drop of blood since he had been set free.

  However, his will was still weak compared to hers and using the greatest power she had she was able to flick a switch in their souls to bring them back to being her as her slaves. She felt the yearning in Jay for oblivion as she woke to her strings being reattached. As she took control she found Lance to radiate rage, hatred and pure despair. It would take them a day or two perhaps, but soon they would come.

  * * *

  Nolan had waited for a long time, but he had not waited alone. He had never been sure what reasons made him love Huna; she was selfish and cruel. She had spent centuries being angered by her status as a lowly slave, never appreciating all that she had been blessed with. They had lived by one of the most beautiful forests imaginable. They had forever to look forward to and knew that one day they would be free, although the wait would be long—centuries upon centuries. She had been impatient though. Nolan could only imagine it to be a far greater sentence than that of a slave to live in a reality where you were the only of your kind. Nolan had never really felt that being a slave was so terrible, though he lived in cramped conditions with hardly any worldly possessions. He had the hope that the world would change. This was never good enough for Huna.

  “If that door does open, I will come to you. But if you fail, my love, I am gone from you forever,” he said aloud and wondered if, somewhere, she could hear him.

  * * *

  Before Lance and Jay arrived at the flat Chloe composed a plan of how she would live her life if she were to fail once more. First on the agenda was to create a new vampire; someone who was successful and handsome. She was bored of the life she had created in this world.

  Lance was the first to arrive, dressed in faded blue jeans and a white wool sweater. He looked pristine, yet haggard in many respects. Chloe suspected it was because of his choice to refrain from drinking blood. His eyes told a story of sorrow as he looked upon Chloe.

  “You’re good and early, old chap!” Chloe said.

  “Will this be the last time I serve you?” Lance asked as he entered the flat.

  “Truth be told, I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “When Jay gets here we will discuss how to conduct the ritual. You wouldn’t believe how simple our mistake was. Apparently the blood has to be as fresh as possible. Can you believe how long I waited for us to try that and then it fails just because we kept the blood for a day?” Chloe looked Lance up and down. “How do you live in that form?”

  “I have no choice. It’s not like I can jump off a cliff.”

  “No. I mean taking a break from drinking blood. Being immortal is the only thing you’ve got going for you and your throwing it away.”

  “I don’t like the taste.” Lance shrugged.

  They both knew that wasn’t true—blood for a vampire was exquisite. It was like tasting the moving spirit of the person as it passed through you. Vampires carried that lust within them every day.

  “We need blood from five victims, like before. I might just ask that yours be by feeding.”

  “If your choice is to be cruel.”

  Jay arrived a few hours later, the stench of marijuana clinging to him. He wore an old green army jacket and scruffy clothes. His eyes were dull and he hadn’t shaved in a long time.

  “You’re a pathetic mess,” Chloe said starring at Jay. “Now boys, there are a few things I want to make clear before you retrieve our five lucky donors. I will begin the ritual alone. You are to wait outside this room and listen while I do the spell. Now, if it does work, which I’m praying that it will, you will leave this place, never to return. You will no longer be necessary.”

  They nodded their understanding and left. Jay and Lance quickly found prostitutes, asking them all to arrive at 5:30 p.m. at Chloe’s flat. The women looked around the living room nervously as they sat on the couch. Without warning, Chloe swiftly sliced through the necks of the first two girls. Screaming, the remaining girls tried to flee. Lance grabbed one and savagely ripped into her neck, draining her life, but leaving just enough to fill the vial for Chloe.

  The final victim was a young Asian woman with jet-black hair and pale skin. Seeing the demons blocking her path she fell to her knees sobbing. Jay pulled the gir
l up to her feet and slammed her skull against the wall. As Jay released her again, the girl crumpled to the floor like a rag doll.

  “Now leave!” Chloe shouted at Jay and Lance.

  Alone, she quickly filled each vial, uttering the incantation as she worked. “Permissum cruor illae universitas, patefacio ianua ut has been propinquus. Permissum is patefacio signum ut orbis terrarum EGO penetro ex. Permissum meus vitualamen exsisto recipero. in nomen of natu maximus veneficus....”

  As she poured the last of the blood onto the floor, Chloe closed her eyes and prayed that the spell would work. Suddenly, she saw the interior of Nolan’s world mix with her own. He looked like a phantom with sad, unspoken regret in his eyes. Her heart sank as she realized the spell had failed again. Fate had given her one more memory of him before it dissolved their connection. Tears ran down her face as her whole body began to shake in utter misery.

  Then, a miracle occurred! The hologram image of Nolan began to solidify.

  She was stunned to silence. Chloe reached out and touched Nolan—he was almost there, almost hers. She kissed his lips and tasted his tears mixing with hers. Time stood still as they held each other—she felt whole again. Chloe sensed Jay and Lance open the door slightly behind her and left as they had been instructed.

  “You’re here!” She could hardly believe her words even as she uttered them.

  “Huna, I have waited so long to touch you again,” he whispered.

  “A thousand times I regretted coming to this world. But now we are together.” She smiled.

  “Is this world the place you dreamed of?” he asked.

  “I had believed that this world was void of our kind. But I was wrong. There are others! You will be amazed.”

  “What is the name of the world where I live in now?” He smiled.

  “Earth. Here the humans are the ones in power. People don’t even know we exist. But there are secret organizations for vampires called ‘houses’.”