The last piece of her memory fell into place and she came to a startling conclusion. She had a new life. That meant her old life was over, every part of it. Her family must think she was dead. She wouldn’t be able to see Layla or Dahlia again. She wouldn’t hear their laughter, or kiss their silken cheeks. She wouldn’t be able to tell them just how much she loved them. Going back home was impossible; she had no home. She had nothing. She choked, thinking of her box of memories, realizing she would never again hold those treasures or the loved ones they represented. There was nothing left for her to lose. Nothing could cause her more pain.
She tried to think other thoughts. She couldn’t bear to open the floodgate of grief again this day. She kept coming back to what she was so desperately trying to escape. She was thinking about Michael’s “new beginning”. What did that mean? Could it be true that she was immortal? Living forever, grieving forever for the loss of those most precious to her. Perhaps this was Hell. A place where her beautiful girls were so close, but she would never feel their warmth again. Dori could think of no worse punishment.
She was too lost in her reverie to notice how eerily silent the forest was. The normal teeming of animals had stopped as if they were hunkered down, prepared for impending danger. One of the ancient maples cracked in the cold, night air and the sound echoed in Dori’s new ears. It jarred her out of her thoughts like a gunshot. Startled by the sound, she jumped instinctively. Apparently jumping was as easy as running. Without realizing the true extent of her physical prowess, she found herself sitting on a branch toward the top of a nearby pine tree. She was stunned by the height of her jump. Instantly her eyes locked with those of a motionless barn owl only an arm’s length away. Without slackening its glance, the owl began to unfold its wings to flee. Not wanting to be alone in the dark once more, Dori said, “No!” Obediently, the bird settled back on the branch; both were surprised by its submission.
Dori studied the majestic bird, noticing its absolute beauty. The large black eyes were deep pools that opened to the soul of this calculating hunter. The eyes that normally wore the hard gaze of the predator, now showed the timid, wide-eyed stare of the prey. Its stark white face revealed no other feature, only the consuming eyes, pleading with her for mercy. She was puzzled by this strange expression. Somehow noticing the moment of distraction, the bird spread its wings to take flight again and Dori saw rows of tan and gold feathers. It was as if she had never seen the breadth of the color spectrum before. She was mesmerized by the pattern of deeper and more subtle browns playing on the stunning bird’s wings.
Two things became apparent to Dori simultaneously. First, she was ravenously thirsty. That thought was odd to her. She was dying to quench the thirst accosting her mouth and throat. The parched feeling was beyond irritating, it was painful. The need to satisfy the burning in her core was like no other. She doubted she had felt need in her whole existence until this moment. The world was spinning; satisfying this longing within her had become primordial.
The second thing Dori noticed was that the bird was now going to fly away. She couldn’t let that happen. The yearning to drink possessed her to the point that she was no longer consciously in control of her actions. Her instincts told her not to let the owl get away. Without thinking, she had reached out and captured the bird; it had already begun flapping its wings in preparation for flight. Before she could blink the magnificent flapping beast was pressed against her face and she was inhaling its woody scent. Her mouth was biting wildly at its flesh and finally finding purchase, she drank in the hot, thick liquid with deep pleasure. She was wild, completely overtaken by her senses and giddy from the animal’s fear. She swallowed eagerly, barely pausing to breathe. Disappointment set in when she felt the owl’s life drain away.
The bird’s struggling had stopped. She opened her eyes and saw the beautiful creature laying motionless in her grasp. Its lovely white features had been defaced by dark crimson streaks of blood. Dori’s hands were also covered with sticky warmth. What had she done? Her mouth was filled with the metallic flavor as she ran her tongue across the back of her teeth.
Panicked, she dropped the owl and heard it thud lifelessly on the forest floor. She buried her face in her hands, noticing immediately that her messy meal was smeared across her cheeks too. The owl’s blood coursed through her, warming her ever so slightly. She was repulsed by her actions. She had taken the bird’s life to satisfy her needs. The thought of blood in her mouth induced a wave of nausea, but worse than that, she craved more. The owl had been a mere appetizer to whet her desire. She dropped lithely from the tree branch and her landing was barely audible as she sank to the snowy ground once more. Dori hunted.
Rather than run blindly this time, she stalked something nearby. The sound came from underground. A rabbit was shivering in its shallow den. She dropped to all fours as she approached the hole; the rabbit had no time to flee. There was no sport in this kill: she reached in, her hand cloaked in the darkness of night, and pulled the furry creature out by the back of its neck. She bit in hungrily and gulped down the animal’s blood, pausing for a moment near the end to remark that the earthy flavor of the rabbit was different from the owl’s. She threw the tiny corpse back into its hole and was immediately hunting again. She was not yet satisfied.
Dori wanted something bigger; a challenge. She enjoyed the wild moment before the kill almost as much as the warmth that flowed through her as she satisfied her need. Dori forced herself to focus on the forest; she was seeking out something bigger. Farther away, she could hear the anxious pacing of a larger animal. Its breath came too quickly; it was nervous. The animal’s unrest excited Dori. She had found her next victim and she took off in its direction at break-neck speed. As she approached, the coy dog yelped a warning to its pack. She had lost the element of surprise. Several dogs were backing away from Dori as she stepped out from behind a tree to face them. The one she had first heard stood closest to her, challenging her on behalf of the pack. As she stared at this animal, he bared his teeth in defiance. Every insolent action thrilled her. The pack fled, but the dog never looked away. Dori spoke to it.
“That’s right, you stay. I wonder how you taste!” The dog twisted its head as if it was trying to understand her words. It looked nervously behind itself, perhaps wishing it too had fled.
“No. You are a hunter too, come and do your best!” she taunted the animal. The dog charged, a growl erupting from deep in its belly. She bent her knees, ready to absorb the impact; her eyes were wild with excitement. The coy dog leapt into the air aiming for her neck.
“Oh no, Doggy! That’s my job.” She caught him in mid-air; one hand snapped the dog’s muzzle shut and turned its head away. Her other hand wrestled the dog’s flank, exposing its muscular neck. For the third time that night, she ripped into a vein and glutted herself on blood. This one fought until its dying breath, which only heightened Dori’s pleasure.
A while later, intoxicated and warm, a euphoric sensation enveloped her. She lay a few feet from the body of her last victim; the dog had been bigger than she realized. Staring at the stars, happiness overwhelmed her. Bloated and satiated, she let her mind wander.
A nagging suspicion was trying to force its way into her mind. In an effort to deny her fate, she again looked at the evidence she had witnessed today. Michael’s words rang in her mind and paralleled her experiences tonight. Her injuries, despite being severe, had healed. Running now came as easily as breathing. She had jumped high enough and quickly enough to startle a bird of prey in the top of a tree. The coy dog had done its best, but it only succeeded in nourishing her bloodlust. There was only one story that encompassed all of these traits. It couldn’t be true; she refused to believe it. The more her mind repeated it, the more she denied it, but the more it became clear that it was the only explanation.
Was it possible that Michael had the same abilities and cravings? The name of this monster was on the tip of her tongue, too perverse to pronounce. Wrestling with her though
ts, she hoped it was all a bad dream. These things didn’t exist; this must all be part of that horrible dark and frigid place where she was trapped. This wasn’t happening. She was perilously close to the despair she had felt in the black isolation of her nightmare. Her mind was close to snapping. The reality of her existence was unbearable. A voice, one that had helped her earlier that night, was trying to calm the terror building inside, trying to help her accept her new fate. Although it was only present in her mind, the voice seemed to echo through the night.
“You will forever exist between life and death.”
Chapter Ten
March 23, 1598
I fear I shan’t keep writing much longer as my enemie is determined to emerge victorious from this battle. One darke nighte blends in with the next. I am forced to submit to the demon who created me; a demon who feeds not only on the bloode of the living but also on their fright. What a sad, sad fate has befallen me. Impossible it is to separate the fiend I have become from the man I once were. If there was but a way to make it ende, a way to keep from killing, perhaps I would be able to bear this eternal hell.
Since the colony is now loste to the bloodletting, the one who made us all has loosed us on the natives that remain. He prefers to attack at the height of their pagan rituals. Dread fuels his luste. A more evil being I have never encountered, but at laste I can put name to face. Our malevolent leader is none other than Mr. Barwicke, set upon torturing all those he encounters. We will forever succumbe to the hunger he felt in the laste days of his life.
If indeed I am cursed to this terrible fate, the drive to overcome my creator is all that holdes me to my sanitie. It is the one thing upon which I can focus; for once I finde a way to terminate this malicious demon, I shall follow him shortly thereafter, as I cannot bear to existe as a murderer. I have studied the olde tales, but finde them mostly untrue. There are too, too few ways to end the life of the eternally damned. When I finde a way to rid the worlde of this pestilence I will happily scribe it here in hopes to recorde it for all that followe.
Chapter Eleven
There it was, right in front of her, staring at her, breaking her heart. She focused on it, aching with loss and riddled with yearning. After her realization, she had wandered for a long time. Eventually recognizing familiar surroundings, her feet had led her home. She stood at the tree line, unable to move closer. As much as she craved its comfort, she knew it was wrong. Her children were sleeping on the other side of the wall, and she was frozen with internal struggle. Certainly she could steal into the house undetected to say goodbye to her husband and her two precious girls, but was that the right thing to do? Saying goodbye would make this final. If one of them saw her, the pain it would cause would be infinitely worse than it already was.
Dori stood for a long time, trying to reach a decision. Eventually, her cunning ears settled on the breathing patterns of the people within the small house. She stayed there long enough to pick out each person individually. Layla’s weak snore overpowered Dahlia’s shallow breaths. Amir’s breathing was irregular. She could hear him tossing, clearly fighting a fitful dream or struggling to find sleep at all. Many nights she lay awake listening to her family’s slumber. It was on those nights that she would sneak away to find her box. That was exactly what she wanted to do now. Having her fingers caress the small satin corner of Layla’s first baby blanket would be balm on her wounds. If she couldn’t have her family, shouldn’t she at least have those tiny trinkets which wouldn’t be fully appreciated by anyone else? What would become of them now? It didn’t seem right for anyone to rifle through them or worse, to dispose of them. Dori couldn’t let that happen. She resigned herself to breaking in to the house to collect her memories.
Dori approached the back door and pulled the spare key out of its nearby hiding place. She silently let herself in the house, pausing to listen as she shut the door behind her. Everyone was still sleeping so she took a moment to look around. It was clear that something tragic had happened; the house had been completely neglected. Dori was beginning to think that coming in was a bad idea.
She went quickly toward the closet to get her box and escape, but found that she was being lured toward her children. Stopping in front of Dahlia’s door, Dori wrestled her desire to touch her baby one last time. Before she realized it, she was tiptoeing toward the sleeping cherub. There she lay, a sleeping ball of perfection, the nightlight casting a warm glow over her smooth cheeks and long eyelashes. She was crammed into the corner as always, completely uncovered. Indulging her instincts, Dori grabbed the covers and pulled them over this flawless creature for the last time, tucking her in tightly. She ran her fingers through the disheveled curls. She bent down and kissed Dahlia’s forehead, inhaling the scent of soap and baby lotion. She let her lips linger on Dahlia’s silky skin, trying to memorize the moment for eternity. How could she say good bye to this innocent child?
“Mommy loves you more than you could know, my Angel. You are the rainbow after a storm to me. You will always be in my heart.” Dori sweetly kissed her again and reluctantly backed out of the room. She took Dahlia’s pacifier with her. It crushed Dori to close the door on her child. No punishment could be worse than this.
Standing in the hallway trying to contain her sobs, she knew Layla was next. Nothing could keep her from entering the pink princess room, although it would make her pain complete. She took a deep breath, set her jaw and moved silently in the dark as she opened the door on Layla.
Dori smiled as she found the three year old twisted in a position that couldn’t be comfortable. It was as if Layla had been jumping around and just slept as she fell, limbs askew. Dori gently pulled Layla to a more comfortable posture, tenderly laying her head of golden curls on the pillow. She stood for quite some time, drinking in Layla’s beauty. Eventually, she approached the bed and leaned down to kiss her Sleeping Beauty goodbye. Without waking, Layla reached up and wrapped her arms around Dori’s neck.
“I like you and I love you and I love you and I like you, Mommy.”
“I like you and I love you and I love you and I like you, too. You will always be my Princess. You taught me how to love. Mommy has to go now, but promise to take care of your sister. You will always be in my heart.” A fat tear rolled down Dori’s cheek. The little girl’s grip relaxed and Layla was settling back into her dream when the errant tear splashed on her nose. Layla’s eyes fluttered as she awoke with a start. Her eyes caught Dori’s
“Mommy!?”
Dori ran so fast it must have seemed to Layla as if she had disappeared. Dori couldn’t leave; she didn’t have her box yet, so she settled for hiding in the bathroom while the little girl fell back asleep.
“Mommy! Mommy! Come back, Mommy! I miss you.” Layla’s calls were melting into sobs and soon Amir awoke and stumbled to the grieving child. He sat on the bed cradling Layla and trying to soothe her while she wept in his arms.
“Daddy, I saw her, she was here and she ran away. Why won’t she come back Daddy?”
“There, there, Habibti, it was only a dream...it’s okay, go back to sleep. Mommy is up in Heaven now, she is watching over all of us. Don’t cry Sweetie, you can sleep with Daddy if you want.”
Dori was stunned as she heard Amir comforting Layla. He had even called her Habibti, an Arabic pet name. The little girl finally settled down, but it was Amir who continued crying. First it was just the tell-tale sniffle, but it grew louder as the child fell asleep. Dori had never heard him cry openly before. His was a long, mourning cry, like a great wolf calling for his mate through the empty night. She could hear his soul in his pain-filled howls. She had never known he could feel this much pain. She heard him spit out words like “Why...and too soon...” Amir was speaking more Arabic than English, but Dori new the words, “laish ya Allah” meant “why, God?” Amir was pleading with the Almighty, struggling for comprehension. His words grew unintelligible but it wasn’t difficult to interpret the agony he was feeling. Amir’s cries quieted and eventually stopp
ed as he cried himself to sleep. Dori pictured him still cradling the tormented Layla in his arms.
It had been wrong of her to come in the house. She had been selfish and she had hurt her family even more because of it. Dori had never suspected that Amir cared so deeply for her. He never showed it; he had always been so short with her. Was it partly her fault for not looking harder? If she had looked beyond the surface, would she have found all that she was truly looking for?
Amir was on the other side of the wall and Dori wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him and to be comforted by him. She wanted to press herself into his arms and feel what she had felt when she walked down the aisle toward him. It was too late for that now. Dori found it hard to breathe as she unexpectedly grieved the loss of her husband that night. Her cheeks were again wet with tears.
Creeping out from her hiding place, Dori spotted Layla’s pink hair ribbon on the bathroom counter; she grabbed it. In a second, she was at the closet grabbing her box, and then Dori was headed for the door once again. Something glittered in the moonlight and caught her eye. She stopped to get a better look and realized it was a set of Amir’s prayer beads, the Arabic version of a rosary. He normally carried them wherever he went. She could picture his fingers working the beads as he silently praised God in several different tongues. It would take something out of the ordinary for him to set them down and leave them behind. Dori didn’t think twice; she scooped up the shiny string of amber beads and ran out the door, locking it behind her. When she found the safety of the tree line, she stopped to place her three new items in the box. She nestled the pacifier, hair ribbon, and prayer beads among her other trinkets, where they would stay for the rest of forever.
The night was beginning to wane as the deepest hues of black were being replaced by a velvety, navy blue. It wouldn’t be long before the sun peaked over the horizon and the world would go on without her, as if she had never existed. She didn’t want to be near the house when her family awoke. It would be too painful to be discovered again. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure where to go or what abilities and limitations her new existence held for her. Her mind was full of questions and she wasn’t sure how to survive without some answers. Didn’t the sun burn vampires? She didn’t want to find out if that was true. Michael could give her the answers she was looking for.
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