by F. G. Adams
I rouse from my nap when I hear the conductor announce over the speakers that we have arrived at Penn Station. After exiting onto the platform, I enter the bustling streets with my overnight suitcase pulling behind me. I capture the sights of people scurrying by, taxicabs racing to and fro, Jumbotrons lit with advertisements, and skyscrapers all decorating the street. I’m home.
I hail a taxi and begin my journey uptown to Mount Sinai St. Luke’s Hospital where my mother is waiting. As we travel north in the bumper-to-bumper traffic, I take in the magical, familiar sights of the city. We pass Times Square, full of bright lights, shopping, and shows. Navigating at a slower pace, Central Park comes into view, a forest of green stuck right in the center of urban concrete. Truly beautiful. Next we come by the majestic Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine, its medieval Gothic pillars standing frozen in time and watching over all who enter.
A short time later, we arrive at Mount Sinai Hospital. I exit the taxi and pull out the money to pay the cabby. Pulling my suitcase along the sidewalk, I enter the hospital. After checking in with the information clerk, I begin my long trek to the psychiatric wing of the hospital. I’m not shocked to find that my mother has been placed under around-the-clock watch. She’s on the verge of a mental breakdown. Since the day I got mother’s call my senior year of high school, she has never been the same.
Tonight, we’re going to party! It’s my senior graduation night. A bunch of my classmates and I have big plans. Our parents booked a special event in Central Park for our graduating class. It’s going to be epic.
Finishing up my makeup, I run my fingers through my long auburn locks. Looking in the mirror, I notice a young woman staring back at me smiling because all of my hopes and dreams are about to come true. In the fall I will be attending Harvard University’s Pre Med program. I’ve wanted to be a doctor, like, forever … just like my daddy. He’s a highly respected cardiologist, one of the top in his field.
I button up my top, leaving the last several open to reveal some cleavage, because when you got it, flaunt it, right?
My phone starts ringing, echoing off the walls of my room. It’s my mother’s ringtone, Hot Mama by Trace Adkins. Crazy, I know. What started out as a joke between me and my mother turned into her song. I’ve called her hot mama for years and when that song came out … well, you know the rest.
Reaching over to the dresser, I clutch my phone and open it up, answering, “Hello, Hot Mama!”
“Wren…” Sniff, sniff. “Wren baby girl, I need you.” My mother’s heartfelt plea leaves me speechless.
“Wren, it’s your father. There was a crash. Blood. Life flight. Hospital. Sending a car.” I only heard parts and pieces. My brain began to shut down. No, no, no, no, NO! Not my daddy.
Beep, beep, beep, beep. The sounds of a heart monitor machine serenade my ears. Somehow while walking down nightmare lane, I found my mother’s room. A grey-headed, tall man in a white coat enters carrying my mother’s chart. He gazes in my direction with an affectionate, reassuring smile.
“Good morning. Miss Bishop, I presume?”
“Yes, I’m Wren Bishop, Katrina’s only daughter. Dr…”
“Dr. Kavanaugh. Do you know why your mother is here, Wren, if I may ask?”
I nod in recognition of his comment. “Certainly, doctor. I understand very well. My mother has been living in a realm of torture of her own making since my father died. Over the years, she has suffered from hallucinations, loosening of associations and psychosis. We’ve tried an array of medications and nothing has helped.”
“I see you know what you’re talking about. My apologies if I seemed harsh. Most families don’t understand the severity of the disease your mother is suffering from.” Dr. Kavanaugh nods.
“Thank you. I’m in my final year of residency at Mass General. I sought out help for her and you came highly recommended. The last time I spoke with my mother about a month ago, we discussed her appointment that was scheduled with you for last week. I’m assuming that’s why you’re here. Unfortunately I’ve just come off of seventy-two-hour shift rotations for two weeks. I’m totally exhausted and I haven’t checked up on her.”
“I see. Wren, your mother is going to need twenty-four-hour observation for a short period. I understand that she isn’t violent to herself or anyone else, but it doesn’t mean it can’t happen. I want to admit her into my program. It’s intensive therapy and, of course, an arrangement of medications will be involved so that we can find the right fit for her. My goal is to make her better, help her live out the rest of her life in this reality and not the one she has conjured on her own.”
Dr. Kavanaugh finishes up explaining all the details of his psychotic disorder diagnosis for my mother. He also explains that it will be my decision because I am her only living relative. The burden falls on me.
Later, I sit quietly by the window watching the birds fly through the evening sky while mother still sleeps. Dr. Kavanaugh said she had been sedated when she couldn’t speak to me immediately and she should be waking up any time.
“Wren.” A whisper. “Wren?”
I turn in time to see my mother disoriented and pulling at the cuffs on her hands. I hurry to her side to help ease her discomfort.
“Mother, it’s me. I’ve come to take care of you.”
“Oh, my little Wren. I knew you would come.” A ghost of a smile captures her beautiful face.
And then everything goes to shit. Mother’s face morphs into trepidation as she looks over my shoulder staring as if someone is standing behind me. I glance back, but no one is there.
“What’s wrong, mother? Do you see him? Is he here?” I ask, because we’ve had this conversation time and time again since my father died. At first, it was painful to hear. Then, as time moved on and mother got worse, the tightness that came with thinking of my daddy lessened.
“I told you to leave me alone! Not here, not with our baby girl.” Her yelling turns to tormented screeches and the nurses run into the room with a sedative, administering the drug as my mother continues to wail and cry.
I’m left feeling helpless. I love my mother so much and I hate to see her deteriorating one piece at a time. We were a happy family until that fateful night of my father’s car accident.
Is it possible to love someone so much that even when one passes on, a part of them stays with the other? A soul mate? Even in death, you are forever linked?
My parents loved each other beyond words. It was obvious for anyone who knew them. They had found true love in each other. Ugh! I shiver at the thought. If this is what true love does to a person, count me out. I will never subject myself to the possibility of going crazy. I can never be like my mother.
Chapter Three
New York City, Present day
Aldin
Slinking into the obscurity of blackness and shadows of the musty alley, I lie in wait. Tonight I will catch a glimpse of my family. Well, not my immediate family exactly, but three generations removed. Family, nonetheless.
My mission has been to see to my family’s care since that night over two hundred years ago. Sure, I received my three wishes as Marcus had promised, but it came with a cost. So here I am, lurking in the darkness and catching peeks of my sister’s offspring, making sure that they are well taken care of.
True to his word, Marcus set up my family with an abundant trust fund which has carried through the decades. I myself have access to all the money that I could ever want or need. The women are abundant, at my beck and call. And of course, the one thing I thought could never happen: immortality.
That’s right, I am an Enchanted Immortal Vampire, a night dweller. Not the scary things that human nightmares are made of. We are the guardians of the night, and humanity’s peacekeepers. The memories of when I first woke up are insignificant now. Although, I was anxious, yet at peace … if that’s even possible. A strange feeling settled over me, as if I was coming home…
My eyes are heavy and I can’t seem to open them.
There is a pounding ache that fills my entire form. My body feels as if shards of glass are pressing into my skin, as if all the glass windows at the cathedral burst and I was their target. My stomach is rolling around and around, growling for something I’ve never felt. An urge not for food, but something else. I don’t understand.
I hear a noise off to my right—footsteps that sound so loud, like they’re walking all over my face. I press a hand to my head in hopes of relief. A door opens loudly and the footsteps descend upon me. I growl low in my throat, an instinctive reaction, unsure if it’s friend or foe who approaches.
Then I remember my last moments … Oh my god! The fangs, the eyes. I jerk upright as my fatigued eyes dart around the room in the blinding light and landing on the last man I saw before blackness took me.
Leaning against a bedpost in a nonchalant manner is Lord Marcus Dalca. His piercing gaze is directed at me, a smile playing across his stoic face. Willing my eyes to focus, I observe him in the well-lit room and notice his eyes are a grayish black now with a red ring circling around the pupils and irises. He has an aristocratic air about him and his features are hard with high cheekbones, an elongated face, and firm lips that seems amused. He’s beautiful for a man, a celestial-like quality to his aurora.
Taking a moment to catch my breath, I take in the lavish furnishings of my surroundings. In my current position, I’m on a majestic red mahogany oak four-poster bed with bedding to match the extravagant decor. Colors of deep garnet, golds, and emerald greens encompass the design. Carpets are placed carefully around the hardwood floor in a stately way. Affluence oozes from everywhere.
What is this place? My throat is parched for a drink. Trying to muster any voice with which to speak, I finally croak out, “Where am I? What did you do to me? What are you?”
Wait, is that my voice? It sounds deeper—huskier, even—through my cracked throat.
With a soft laugh in his deep, strong voice, he shakes his head. “So many questions, my new apprentice. All in due time. First things first, though. You must feed,” Marcus replies in his aloof tone.
“What does that mean??” I screech, fearful of the answer to come.
“Now, now, Aldin. All is well. You are getting everything you asked for and more.” Marcus smiles broadly in a fatherly fashion. “I’m going to take care of you. But first, you need to feed. Drink from me.”
Without delaying any further, he approaches and I watch in petrified fascination as his canines descend upon his wrist, slicing it up his forearm. My nostrils flare immediately, taking in the sweet aroma of the blood he is offering. Feeling the stick of my teeth against my bottom lip. My stomach rolls in anticipation or disgust, I can’t be sure. I still don’t understand what is happening to me, but instincts overrule logic as he presses his arm to my mouth. A luscious flavor of coppery goodness bursts across my tongue as I grab hold of his arm and take my first drink as an Enchanted Immortal.
Shaking off the old thoughts, I see a car pull up outside the brownstone. A man exits the driver’s side, heading around to the passenger. I watch patiently as he carefully helps the woman, round with child, out of the car. The couple walks up the steps and enters the dwelling.
I sigh to myself. The baby hasn’t come yet, but she looks close. I’ll need to keep a closer watch now, double my surveillance.
In my long life of immortality, I’ve been protecting my baby sister’s descendants, making sure that if the need arises, I’m there to fulfill it—even without their knowledge of my existence. Over time, I’ve even slipped into a hospital or two in order to give my healing blood to a relative that would die otherwise, making full recoveries and living long and healthy lives, all the while baffling the doctors. This is my way of helping them.
Walking away and heading down the street, my thoughts are brimming with my family and my own lack of intimacy. How I wish I could have a family of my own.
“Bollocks! Not going there.” I snap back to reality.
Running my hands through my wavy black hair and tugging roughly on the ends, the memory from my human years of a slight stick of pain eases my soul. No more wishes for me. I’ve had my fair share of my genie in the bottle.
Climbing onto my bike, I breathe in the fresh crisp air of fall.
“It’s a nice night for a ride,” I say to myself.
Cranking up the Harley, I feel the power of the 1820cc engine between my thighs as I pull out of the dark parking lot. I cruise through the streets, dodging cars and pedestrians until I’ve made it to the outskirts of town. Pulling the throttle back, I lean into the wind feeling alive again.
I ride through the New York countryside. Enjoying the solidarity of nothing but the rumble of my engine and my thoughts go blank while taking in the beauty of the night. For a brief time, I leave everything behind and just enjoy the harmony of the darkness.
Chapter Four
Aldin
As I navigate back to the city, the discussion with Marcus earlier today hounds me. There are a few locals south of the city who have gone missing. It seems suspicious and could be a human killing, but Marcus wants it checked out. The missing humans vary in age, sex and race. There is no pattern to it. “Something’s off with the whole situation,” I mumble into the wind. Too many inconsistencies that lead him to believe it could be supernatural, an Enchanted Immortal Vampire, Shifter, or Necromancer. It’s not settling with me, either. Therefore, I will obey.
Marcus’ enrichment of my life as an Enchanted Immortal began the day I awoke as a vampire, and he has continued teaching me over the centuries. When he first created me, he sheltered me, kept me under his wing and out of harm's way. I strived to learn everything I could. I was a sponge, soaking in a life I never knew existed outside of my humble beginnings. He made sure I had the best tutors money could buy, to teach me how to speak, how to act, and about business. He set a high standard for me, and I excelled under his guidance and leadership. I learned about survival and different martial arts techniques as well.
He insured that I was educated in history, art, and every beautiful thing the world could offer. “I’m prepping you for great things,” he would say. But, I knew he was grooming me to one day step into his shoes and rule the Enchanted Immortals in his stead. I became his number-two man after ten years of studying hard in order to one day take over all his vast wealth and kingdom. I’m fluent in many languages and run the board for Dalca Worldwide Services, Inc., among many other businesses for him. He submerged me into a culture that was alluring, exotic … and is now my life.
Marcus is an Immortal. He told me his family hailed from Egypt, a place I’ve visited once with him after my transformation, and many times since the age of airplanes. He is a naturally-born Immortal, centuries old. He’s never told me his exact age, and out of respect for him, I’ve never asked. He shares what I need to know, and for me, that has been enough. His mother, father, and brother were lost in a battle which happened eight centuries ago. Truly hard to believe Marcus is so old when he looks to be no older than thirty. It’s no surprise that his wealth is extensive and that he also presides over all Enchanted Immortals as the King. He is one of three original Immortals living today. Many seek his guidance and wisdom.
But even with all his success and importance, Marcus is lonely. I believe it is one of the reasons he found and turned me. I’ve been like a son to him and he, a father to me. Unlike the Enchanted Immortal Shifters and Necromancers, procreating as a vampire has never occurred. We cannot have children in the biblical sense; Marcus’ line was the exception.
I am the only human he has shared his blood with to become an Enchanted Immortal since he lost his parents. Marcus assumed the role of father as well as maker when I began my immortal life, taking the place of my deceased father. Actually, over the years, he has treated me much better than my own father ever did. I know that he wants to step down and let me assume his lineage. “Lead from the sidelines” is how he puts it. I’m just not sure I’ll ever be the man he tries to groom
, yet I will always try to succeed for him.
During some of our long talks, he has told me of a female from the past with yearning laced in his voice. Through stories of her, and his own desire to find one, he conveyed upon me the miracle of finding a true mate. I’ve come to realize, it is a widely known fact and sought by many Enchanted Immortals, especially the ones that have been around a long length of time.
Despite the fact that Marcus has said many times he will never have a true mate, he had strong feelings for a human female. She had tempted him like no other, making his blood boil in all the right places. But then she vanished, disappeared one afternoon on her way home from the market without a trace. For a time, Marcus said he went a little crazy trying to find her. They weren’t bonded and he had no way to locate her.
He believed she passed on to the afterlife. Even though he never saw her body, it was for the best. He often felt she was better off because a relationship between a human and Immortal was doomed from the start with all the differences between them.
I wonder if she was his true mate. Maybe his strong feelings weren’t random because he has never spoken of another like her. I know Marcus longs for a mate, someone to complete him in every way. Maybe one day, his desires will come to fruition. Until then, my company will have to do.
I have been in the presence of several true mate couples over my time as an Enchanted Immortal. Bonded pairs who profess this one true and miraculous phenomenon. The union is apparent, undeniable. Anyone can see the way they drift together as sure as waves crashing to the shore.
Normally a true mate bond occurs between someone within the Enchanted Immortal race. True mates between humans and Enchanted Immortals are rare, but not unheard of. I can count them on one hand.
