Immortal Storm

by Heather Bserani

  “You were unhappy with him! I wanted so much to show you the love that you deserved.”

  “That doesn’t mean it was okay to take away my memory of him! Think about how he suffered. Think about my children!” The weight of that thought crushed her chest.

  “It was the only way, Preziosa. You weren’t going to let them go. I knew I could make you happy. I wanted to be happy with you, together we could have it all. That’s why I took you, I didn’t expect the accident to be so bad, but it all worked out. I have to say -” He was babbling, trying to talk reason to a woman pushed to madness.

  “What do you mean you didn’t expect the accident to be so bad?” She growled ominously.

  Michael, realizing he’d said too much, backpedaled furiously. “What I mean is that I never wanted you to be hurt, I didn’t push that hard, but the road was so bad and you hit that tree so hard -”

  Dori cut him off again. “You pushed my car? You caused the accident?” The crimson that had previously tainted her vision darkened. She was being pushed into a black insanity where everything she held dear was sucked away. The obscure nothingness overwhelmed her and she snapped. As abruptly as Michael had ended Amir’s life, so too would his end. She sank her teeth into the meaty part of his neck, drawing his life into her. She drank deeply, taking in not only his blood, but all of his essence. In that moment they were one entity. Her feelings and memories were his and his were hers. She saw Abraham’s journal. She saw the final entry. She knew how to end Percival Barwicke for good. Then she saw herself through his eyes. She felt his unconditional love for her. She saw his regret as he pushed her car in the storm. She saw his torment over hypnotizing her. She saw his anguish as he used her grandmother’s voice in her mind to direct her actions.

  The last realization was too much for her. Not only did he take away her husband and children, he took her beloved grandmother from her posthumously. He used the memory of her to manipulate Dori in the deepest way. Percy chortled as he watched Dori piece together the story of her life. She snapped and tore at Michael’s flesh until what was left was unrecognizable and scattered across the clearing in bloody clumps. Hitching laughter rang out, echoing through the forest. It bounced off boulders and ricocheted off tree trunks, enveloping Dori.

  She sat, stunned and frozen by what had transpired. She ached for what had become of her life. She mourned for Amir’s loss. She was angry and saddened by Michael. Her anger at his actions was nowhere near abating, but she longed for his embrace. She yearned for the arms that had once so gently comforted her. It was all gone, lying dead in this horrible place.

  The minutes passed and night crept closer to day. The sky began to lighten. The crushed vampires that made up Percy’s coven were twitching back to life, weakened by the healing process. Fighting fatigue, she moved toward Addison. She had to finish this and save her friend. She could hear men calling out deep in the forest, still searching for Addison and drawn by the sounds of the fighting. Her approach was interrupted by Percy’s gloating.

  “Well, I will have to admit that this performance tops the one at the ballet. I knew I could direct a better show than that idiot Robert Haines. It’s really all about the timing. Bad timing can trip you up, right? I think you can agree that tonight was perfect! There is just enough time left for the final act.” He turned toward Addison, whose eyes were open and staring at a blood-covered Dori. “I’m afraid that all of this bloodshed has made me hungry for a snack.”

  Dori shoved her weariness and despair aside. This was the reason she had come here in the first place, before everything had gone horribly wrong. She had to keep Addison away from Percy.

  “Now how should I go about doing this? I suppose that with the time crunch I should go for quick and easy over long and painful. Don’t you agree, Dori?” Percy’s eyes darted toward the ever lightening sky before returning to meet hers.

  “Get away from her!” She was already shifting to a crouch so she would be ready to pounce at his first move.

  “Come now, Preziosa!” Her skin crawled as he used Michael’s nickname for her. “I don’t like to leave loose ends. I took her brother, I will take her now and later on it will be Daddy’s turn. A perfect trifecta, and no one is going to stop me. Not the monks, obviously not Amir or Michael, and not you!”

  She lunged forward, but he was faster; he was crouching over Addison’s weak body, threatening Dori with his trademark hiss. Their eyes held, neither one wanting to show weakness by backing down first.

  “Dori?” It was little more than a whisper, but her attention was drawn to Addison’s turquoise eyes. Her friend’s face was a jumble of confusion, pleading and horror. She glanced back at Percy just as he dropped his gaze from the sky. She looked up at the fading stars and realized dawn was about to break.

  “Percy, I want to make another offer, seeing as how the person you tricked into giving you Addison no longer has a stake in the game.” Her mind was racing trying to put her developing plan into action. She needed to buy some time.

  “Sorry. You were never the true target, just a means to the end. I can kill you both if you would like. It’s not like you have that much left to live for.” Percy sneered and glanced around the clearing.

  “You don’t know me. You aren’t going to kill either of us.”

  “Foolish Bitch!” Percy stood defiantly and took a few steps toward Dori. “I will own you. You just sealed your fate. You will beg for swift mercy before I’m finished with you. There are places worse than death.”

  “You talk to hear your own voice. What did your little lackey say, you know the one I shredded over there? Oh yeah, confidence has been the downfall of many.”

  Percy growled and then his feral cry echoed off the face of the cliff. “Let’s see if that saves your friend!” He turned to lunge at Addison and was thrown to the ground by invisible hands. “What the?”

  Dori chuckled as Percy righted himself and prepared to strike again. Just as before, as he launched himself through the air, he was again thrown to the ground. Dori laughed out loud as he flushed with anger.

  “What’s the matter, Percy?” Not used to fighting someone who has a few tricks up her sleeve?” As he grunted and moved to stand, Dori grabbed hold of another gust of air and flung it at him with her mind. He was forced to the ground a third time.

  “You can’t beat me with wind!” As he spoke, his form grew ever more transparent until he was nothing more than a mist. Dori smiled. He was playing right into her trap. She watched as the mist hovered nearer to her friend. She pushed a few gusts of wind at it, but they were poorly directed and missed their target. He fell for the ruse. He laughed and as the heavy fog drew nearer to Addison, she began to shriek.

  “Welcome to my world!” Dori set the winds to spinning. She drove them into a cyclone surrounding the evil mist hovering over Addison. Her clothes snapped against the force of the wind pulling the dark air above her. Blond hair whipped against soft flesh as Dori compelled the winds with all of her might. She could feel him fighting against the force of the gale, but he was no match for an element strong enough to uproot trees or level towns. As Addison watched, a tornado formed over her body, never touching her, but sweeping the mist and nearby debris into its circular vortex.

  It was at that moment that the sun finally peaked over the edge of the cliff. Peaceful golden rays settled first on the vampires that were wedged between the rocks and the fallen trees. Their tortured screams wracked her eardrums and she clamped her hands over her ears. She watched them burn to silvery ash, never losing focus on the churning winds imprisoning Percy.

  As their pained cries waned, the warm rays crept over the edge of the toppled trees and began to scorch those trapped underneath. A new chorus of yelps had Addison clasping her ears and shaking her head. The sky filled with flames and smoke as their corpses were incinerated and their powdery remains were drawn into Dori’s swirling storm.

  She watched as the line separating shade from sun inched toward part of Mich
ael’s torso. She secretly thanked him for sharing the detail that helped lay this plan in place during her kiss of death. His research proved to be helpful after all. The sun wasn’t lethal for vampires changed in current times, but to the ancients it meant death. As time passed; the species had evolved - survival of the fittest. With one final effort, Dori called upon the wind to scatter his remains through the forest. Various predators would feast before Michael would be able to fully heal.

  The sun continued to work its way toward Dori and Addison. Impatient for this to all be over, Dori gathered the winds with her mind and drove the tornado into the sunlight. Percy’s screams echoed those of his cronies before him. Just as the sun burns the fog off a pond, Percy too met his own demise. As his screams faded and then disappeared, Dori released the wind. Ash from cremated corpses fell like snow. It reminded her of the fateful morning when she met her own end.

  She raced to Addison. Now that the tornado had stopped raging, the monks’ voices were alarmingly close. She dropped to her friend’s side and was alarmed when Addison scooted away from her as quickly as her feeble body would allow.

  “Stay away from me.” She spit the words at Dori. “You monster!” She began making the sign of the cross and murmuring prayers to the Almighty and the Holy Mother. Dori stood there confused.

  “I’m not the monster, I just saved you from him. He was going to kill you!” The hurt from the evening was threatening to crush her. She had lost everyone in one night, she couldn’t stand the thought of losing her best friend too.

  “You are no better than them. I watched you tear Michael to shreds. You are the devil’s messenger, spreading evil like seeds on the wind. You live by feeding from the souls of others. You disgust me!”

  “But Addison, I did all of this to save you!” Her voice broke. Pain was knocking on her door, threatening to bowl her over.

  Addison turned toward the voices calling her name.

  “Hello! I’m over here. Hurry, please!” She began to stand, still faint from blood loss. Dori stepped closer to help her up, but Addison shot her a glance filled with such hate that she stopped in her tracks.

  “Over here! I think she’s on the other side of those trees.” The men’s voices were alarmingly close. Dori needed to escape now if she was going to avoid being caught and turned over to the police. She looked at her friend’s face once more and saw the betrayal in Addison’s eyes. Dori was sure that the hurt was evident on her own face. Addison turned and headed in the direction of the men from the monastery.

  “I’ve got her, over here! She’s over here, a little beat up, but she’ll survive!”

  Dori swallowed around the lump in her throat as the pain that threatened her earlier broke through and crushed her heart. She turned and raced in the opposite direction toward the safety of the forest canopy. Pausing, she looked back toward Addison, and saw the plume of smoke rising from where the majority of Michael’s body lay. She ran until she was far from that cursed clearing before falling to the muddy earth and letting the anguish riddle her like bullet holes. There was so much to deal with and no one to lean on for support. So many things had been stolen from her. So many connections had been severed. She felt bereft as she assessed what her life had become.

  As morning became afternoon, she decided she would be better off leaving this place. She knew where she would end up, just not the path she would take to get there. She began to wander the edge of the forest keeping to the anonymity of the trees. She had to force herself to keep going when all she wanted to do was curl up on the ground and wait for death. Each step was an effort.

  Thus the journey began as Dorianna Corso set off to find Dorianna Sahfi.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  September 2, 2011

  Dear Journal,

  I have never kept a diary, but it seemed appropriate. A place to record the thoughts that I can’t work out in my head. I certainly have enough of those. I guess you can take the place of a kind ear or a good friend. It’s no secret that I am short on those now. I won’t fill your pages with the horror and loss that brought me here. Instead I hope to somehow find happiness again…

  I guess it’s important to tell you I’m a vampire. Someone who has lost everything. This new life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. There are plenty of people out there who think we are all working for the Devil. I thought it was important to have written proof that we all aren’t like that. I say that as if I have ever met another. The only others I have met no longer grace this Earth. But that is a story I don’t care to relive here or anywhere else.

  I’m not really sure where I stand in the grand scheme of things, except to say that I’m on the side of Good. I guess that’s why Evil tried so hard to take me down. It took nearly everything I value, but in the end I refused to give in. Now I am left alone, with two things grounding me: my two beautiful daughters. The hard part is, they think I’m dead. I can’t exactly swoop into their lives now, so instead, I spend most of my days like a shadow following them. I hide in the periphery, watching the young ladies they are growing into. I’m not sure what else to do. I can’t leave them, but I can’t be with them either.

  I found my box. I call it my box, but it’s more of a treasure chest. It holds mementoes from the most important moments of my life. It was left behind in the woods when things got bad, but after a lot of searching I found it, mostly unharmed. I added my husband’s gold cross to it. It was a necklace he wore every day until his death.

  I’m not sure what to do now. Isn’t that ironic? Most people would be thrilled at eternal life. I have it all ahead of me and nothing to do with it. So for now I just stay and watch my girls grow. I watch my parents struggle to help them through the baggage that comes from losing both parents tragically. Mostly I watch them grieve without being able to comfort them.

  There are moments though, when I can see hope in my baby girl’s eyes. She is still so young, I’m not sure she understands what happened, so it’s easier for her to allow happiness and wonder in. It’s those random moments that keep me sane. Just this morning I heard her giggle. That simple thing went a long way toward healing some of the wounds left on my heart.

  I don’t ever think I will be the same. No one can go through that without it changing them. I used to believe in the good in everyone, now I have been hardened…I guess that’s what happens when you have so many scars. I don’t like the person I was when I let Evil get close to me. I don’t want to become that again, but I refuse to be weak.

  So that leaves me with a lot of healing to do and no direction to take in life. I don’t see how I can leave my children again, but I can’t risk being discovered either. I was once told that I will forever exist between life and death and I guess that about sums it up. But I wonder if my children would be proud of a mother that existed that way. Would they be able to look up to someone who was a passenger in life? Would I want them to grow up to live a life without direction? Is there any way to be a good role-model without directly impacting their lives? I guess these are questions I am hoping to answer by sorting out my thoughts.

  Clearly there are no quick solutions in my life. I guess the best I can do for now is commit to moving forward little by little. Doing the best I can in tiny increments. Doing even a little good is better than sitting idle. That is what I would want my girls to do…get a little better every day. So that is what I will do, no matter what comes my way. That way I can be sure that if they knew me, they would be proud.

  -- Dori

  With a sigh, she closed the leather journal and nestled it in her box. From her perch in the tree, she could see into her parents’ dining room. Her parents and girls were sitting down to dinner, Layla was saying Grace. Dori overheard the tail end of her prayer.

  “And God bless Daddy and Mommy. They are up there with you.” The four of them shared their meal, the girls chatting while Dori’s parents discussed heavier matters.

  “The buyer agreed on the price. With the sale of the farm and all the horse
s, the girls will have enough in their trusts to go to college and hopefully a little left over to start themselves off after that.”

  “That’s nice, dear. Dahlia, use your fork, Honey.” And so it went until the meal was over and dishes washed. Dori listened as the girls were readied for bed and as bedtime stories were read. She wished with all her might that she was there to kiss Dahlia’s pudgy cheeks. She closed her eyes and remembered combing through Layla’s golden hair. That was all she had left. She had to be contented with her memories.

  After both girls were snugly tucked in for the night, a quiet peace settled on her parent’s home. Dark fell and yet she stayed and watched over the house and its occupants like a guardian angel. She would let no harm come to those she had left. Those were her real treasures and she would guard them with her life if she had to. Slowly, Dori was realizing her life did have a purpose. That thought was just what she needed; it was the opening that hope used to find its way back in. Dori smiled.

  And that’s when she heard it, a sound that ripped her wounds open again. Layla’s shriek echoed through the dark.

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to extend a special thanks to Peazy Monellon, author of Meany. Without her help this book would still be a rough idea hanging out in the back of my mind. It was under her careful tutelage that I was able to develop the seed of an idea into the novel published here. I am forever indebted to her for the hours she spent reading and revising this work. She truly taught me to write. She kept encouraging me no matter what. I can’t begin to thank her fully for all of her time and hard work.

  I must also thank Kristen Selleck, author of Asylum. Your insight and suggestions helped to polish my rough draft. Without your help there would still be holes in my plot big enough to drive a car through. Your time was greatly appreciated.