At Death's Door (Wraith's Rebellion Book 1)

by Aya DeAniege

  The boy was covered with a tapestry that had been ripped from at wall. Sasha’s so called power is a great deal more strength and speed than mortals.

  She still can’t run away in a blur like some vampires in fiction, but she’s fast.

  Lord had his throat ripped out. His body was a mangled mess, bits of him everywhere. I don’t think he was still alive when he had been mauled. I believe that because Sasha was flush with blood.

  She had ripped out his heart but not removed the head. Doing both will ensure a fledgling isn’t made. We were starting to bring that about with those we physically bit. We weren’t old enough, but Lucrecia taught that it was never too early to begin good habits

  As I walked in, Sasha dropped Lady’s body. The woman crumpled like an empty dress, almost.

  Sasha’s mouth was covered in blood, which gave me an indication of what happened to Lord and how he had been damaged the way that he was. There was blood on her face, all down her dress.

  She only had two dresses, and the other one was also covered in blood thanks to me.

  “You going to finish that?” I asked, with a motion to the twitching form.

  Sasha plucked up Lady and bit into her bloodstained neck. She drank again, deeply and greedily.

  While I had cleaned myself up, she knew that I had fed already. The more time you spend around an immortal, the more you understand the little signs. Sasha’s lips go bright red like she painted them.

  It’s not because she had blood on her lips either.

  When she was through, she dropped Lady to the floor like a sack of potatoes. With a disgusted sound, she stepped over the corpse and came towards.

  “Let’s burn it to the ground.”

  “Are we absconding with the silverware?” I asked.

  Silverware? Did that exist then?

  It’s roughly translated to something you might understand. They had things made of silver. And gold, and various other precious items.

  “We already did,” she snapped. “Leave the jewellery. I don’t even want to sell something that they’re wearing. Disgusting people.”

  “Do we need to deal with the staff? There’s a dead girl in my bed.”

  “Please tell me you killed her after. Lucrecia would be pissed if you did it before, again.”

  You’ve what?

  One time, one mistake.

  I didn’t quite get that the bodies of mortals are not as strong as ours are. I also thought she was just poor at sex. Turns out that wasn’t the case.

  Suppose it’s possible she was bad at sex, but I never experienced that, let’s just say.

  To which, of course, I protested, “It was one time!”

  Sasha teased me about it constantly. For centuries, she’d bring it up every time she met a lover of mine. I’ve stopped introducing them to her.

  I’m surprised she didn’t tell you herself.

  Burning a place down was not as easy then, as it is now. We dragged the bodies together and dumped items on them. Furniture and tapestries, whatever we could find, then lit the whole pile.

  As the sun rose, we left and made our way towards the hiding place we had created. We had dug a large hole, into which we had placed the items we were taking with us.

  That could be where the vampire in graves comes about.

  The people were too busy fighting the fire to chase after us. Possibly they were also happy that Lord and Lady were dead. They were mean people, and under the guidance of myself and Sasha, they became cruel and destructive in every manner.

  We stayed in the hole until the following night, then went on foot through the woods. Glutted as we were, we made it to another village before Sasha went rabid.

  Afterward, she complained of pain above her teeth. So, we turned around and headed back towards Lucrecia and my stock.

  We had been warned about sickness in our kind. Lucrecia couldn’t tell us what the symptoms might include. What she did say was that we would end up wishing we could die, only to get better again. No sickness has ever caused massive failure in a vampire to the point of what we jokingly call death.

  If a vampire takes ill, they may go without feeding for months or years on end. Your zombies could very well be based on sick vampires coming out of hiding. We’re told to eat, that as much as it hurts to do so, you must.

  I’ve never had that kind of sickness before, the one that was affecting Sasha. She later experienced what made me ill when the tool was ripped apart, however, and said they were similar.

  It began with her teeth. Not just her fangs, but all her upper teeth. She said they rattled about inside her skull and danced under her eyeballs, if that makes any sense to you. Though, she didn’t use the term eyeball and will cuff anyone who does.

  Why?

  Shakespeare. If you ever get smacked for saying a word around Sasha, it’s because of Shakespeare.

  Come to think of it, I’m surprised you didn’t get smacked.

  Anyhow, after the teeth thing, which neither of us experienced in later centuries, there was an all-over body ache that resounded in her joints. As it got worse, she had a hard time moving. I had to transport her in a cart or on my back. Both of which caused her a great deal of pain.

  The joint pain was a type of inflammation, that fiery pain spread to her muscles, causing seizures and foaming at the mouth.

  By that point I was definitely—how would you put it—freaking out?

  I had been told nothing about foaming at the mouth. The only other time I’ve seen such a thing was in rabid creatures.

  I sent word to Lucrecia and told her where we were and the route we were taking to reach her. We always used codes in those days. I believe I told her my cow had taken sick and I was headed to the capital to buy a new bull to revitalize my herd.

  What it meant was that I was taking the most direct route to Lucrecia.

  When one of is ill, we are more likely to make mistakes or be seen. That is the only time the Council is understanding. We were spread so far and wide that, to get the help we need, we need to make a dangerous journey. There simply is no helping it.

  I hunted very carefully, feeding myself, then allowing Sasha to feed on me. We had been told vampire blood would settle the stomach, and it seems to do so.

  Human blood comes back up, typically mixed with a black sludge that tastes about as appetizing as it sounds. It smells like hazardous waste, and you have to burn anything it touches because the smell never comes out again.

  Maker’s Blood can help speed up the healing. For myself, that wasn’t an option.

  In the ancient world, getting to one’s Maker could be a long and arduous process. With Sasha being so ill, we travelled for almost a year before I sent the message to Lucrecia.

  Take your time, that’s the key when you’re sick. Take your time and be careful of where you go. Keep an eye on the sun. The journey was taxing on my body. I wasted away in my attempt to keep her comfortable.

  That’s what vampire families do for one another, however.

  Lucrecia found us in a large city, where I had set up for us to live for a month or so. She brought with her several stock, whom she risked bleeding so that I might feed without hunting. The flavour difference was just so invigorating.

  After I had fed, she sent me hunting while she tended to Sasha.

  I had washed and bathed her, but what she was going through was nothing I could solve with my presence. Lucrecia, I prayed, could help Sasha.

  I went out and fed heartily in a pub brawl.

  Ah, brawls, how I miss them. Especially how easy they were to start, and how well they covered my tracks.

  When I returned to the home just before dawn, Lucrecia asked me to relate the tale of where we had come from.

  I wanted to check on Sasha so, of course, I protested. Lucrecia gave me her look of death. I liked breathing. I didn’t want to see if her threat to take a lung the next time I disobeyed was real or feign.

  So, I told her the quick tale. We had gone in, found th
is couple, fed and left. Then she took ill. Lucrecia glared at me.

  “Now tell me it all again,” she snapped. “Except this time leave out no detail.”

  Over the course of about four days, I shared our romp.

  Sasha and I had never brought the slaughter to Lucrecia’s home. She knew we participated from time to time, but she’s so much more civilized than most vampires. We had never shared what we did while gone, though we did tell her where and how our haul had turned out.

  It felt wrong to tell her all those things, to explain every terrible detail as we had done it. When I finally reached the part where I had left at the boy’s screams, she stopped me.

  Then she just reached out and hugged me. She didn’t ask why I had left the hall. She didn’t have to because she already knew.

  She held me for a moment, then had me continue. Every detail.

  To which she chided me for wasting Sasha’s dress when I knew she was off slaughtering. I should have known Sasha would have need of it.

  It seemed, before becoming a Maker, Lucrecia had also gone through the destructive stage we were in. She understood that it would pass and that resisting would only make it worse.

  As I finished my tale, she nodded and asked which way we had come. I told her the exact way, every stop we made and how to find our trail back to Land.

  The next morning, Lucrecia took her leave. I was to care for Sasha as best I could. Lucrecia said that she would be back as soon as she could, but that I was to wait right there no matter how long it took.

  I began my vigil.

  While Lucrecia had been there, Sasha had begun to recover. She could lift her head and do more than moan at me in annoyance.

  I jokingly asked her if she wanted white flowers on her grave and she sternly told me that if I placed those near her final resting place, she’d kill me from beyond the grave.

  That was nice of her, it made me feel more comfortable and like everything would be all right in the end.

  Over the next four months, Sasha slowly withered to little more than skin and bone. She began to refuse blood in any shape or form.

  Lucrecia had left a bottle of Maker’s Blood, but even that would come back up again.

  She had no strength or energy. Simply lay there in the bed, barely breathing.

  When Lucrecia returned, she had a bundle with her. Little more than a stick itself, the creature was curled against Lucrecia, whining as it did so. I thought the voice was female, but when they are that degraded, it’s hard to tell.

  Again, Lucrecia sent me out.

  At the sight of the second vampire, I thought perhaps it was an epidemic. Sickness can swing through the vampires, but not at that rate and not so destructive in nature.

  Lucrecia told me not to come back for three days.

  For those three days, I wandered the streets. Never far from the home I had set up. I watched the hoard of items Sasha and I had collected from Lord be traded off. Prostitutes came and went, taking my treasures with them. None of them were coherent enough to give me an explanation when I attempted to question them. They just babbled about skeletons with claws and fangs.

  The third night, I returned to the home and was turned away for another three. Again, I went wandering the streets.

  By then the hoard must have been gone, yet still, people came and went. I swear they had a party in there.

  Of course, this was before I knew that Lucrecia could glamour mortals.

  Three more times I was turned away. Three more times I wandered the streets, worrying about what was going on inside the home.

  When I was finally granted entrance, Lucrecia looked spent. She drew me into the sleeping chambers and showed Sasha to me.

  She looked whole and new once more. No sign of the sickness remained. There was a kind of cold fury in her eyes as she looked down. I looked down as well, wondering what could irritate her so much.

  Margaret sat at her feet.

  “Even Lu wouldn’t abandon a Progeny,” Lucrecia said. “Sadly, it’s not because he cares. It’s because after creating another, we are linked until death parts us. If the fledgling starves, so does the Maker. The link lasts almost a century before a Maker can cast out a fledgling.”

  “I thought we were too young,” I said.

  “The age is an approximation, which is why we teach the habits that we do, and we do so early. Rip off the head, take out the heart. What you don’t do is burn the body and think everything will work out in the end.”

  Margaret is Lady?

  Yes, yes, she is.

  You’re a mean storyteller.

  I know.

  By all rights, Margaret should never have been turned.

  Not just because Sasha was too young, but also in that so little venom went into her. Two bites are all Sasha delivered, and she milks regularly, always has. She supplies me and sometimes provides Margaret with an extra dose to study.

  We produce a lot of venom, but the strength varies with age, health, hunger, and of course how often you milk your venom.

  Wait, what’s that got to do with a base?

  Before the law was enacted two hundred years later, creating a Progeny was a part of one’s base.

  Sasha succeeded, I did not.

  Quin lived in a rather nondescript building. No doorman, no special curtains or bars on the windows. It looked like a regular brick building. It may have been a factory at some point, but had been re-purposed. From the outside, it almost appeared rundown.

  I had passed the building on more than one occasion, walking by, and thought it abandoned.

  The entrance to the building looked like a regular locked door. Large and heavy for certain, it had the appearance of wood, but once opened showed thick metal on the inside. It moved outward with resistance. While I didn’t open it, I was betting it was heavy.

  The door would probably take a bomb to move it.

  Inside the entrance was an alarm system, which Quin shut off. We walked up several flights of stairs and stopped at another alarm panel. Once again, he shut it off.

  Or perhaps turned on the first one again.

  We then stepped through another thick door, where Quin went to yet another alarm panel.

  “Do all vampires have so much security?” I asked.

  “It varies,” Quin said, pulling out his phone and pressing something on the screen. “I’m a little more paranoid than most.”

  The lights came up, and I audibly gasped.

  Ignoring the apartment itself for a moment, there were walls built into the loft. They didn’t go all the way up to the rafters, but about the height of a normal wall. These walls were placed throughout the loft floor in some pattern. They were distanced from each other so that it was possible to see through to the other side. One could tell if anyone was in one of the hallways they created with a glance.

  All the walls were lined with artwork. With the dim light overhead combined with the gallery lights hanging above each painting, the paintings easily drew the eye.

  There were different styles all over.

  Sorry, not an artist.

  I couldn’t identify anything about the pieces besides the fact that they were pretty. I loved looking at art, but had no idea what I was looking at unless I was told what it was. I assumed that the artwork spanned centuries.

  “You like Picasso?” Quin asked. “A lot of modern women say they do.”

  “He made the melty clocks?” I asked.

  “I like that you don’t try to pretend to know what you’re talking about,” he murmured.

  The flooring was a grey wood. It honestly looked like it had been laid almost a century before, then not cared for until recently. Spots were missing from the slats in places. Those holes had been filled with a resin.

  The ceiling was high overhead and looked very much like what I expected to find in a factory. The rafters were visible high above us. On the rafters, here and there, I saw what looked like little lumps. They could have been cameras or bird’s nests,
but they were too far away to tell for certain.

  The walls the artwork hung on were painted a stark white. Most of the artwork was framed, though the frames seemed eclectic. No two of the frames were the same. They appeared to have different ages.

  “There is a kitchen and dining area, even entertainment area, out here. I have mortals who visit me for dinners and the like. Sometimes we vampires have gatherings as well. But we’ll be in the safe zone tonight. It has a lower ceiling.”

  “Safe zone?” I asked.

  “Yes, no windows, so during the day it’s safe for me to wander about without fear of pain. This way.”

  Quin led me through the art area. It was huge, no wonder he needed such a large building for his home.

  “I’m guessing these are all originals?” I asked.

  “Yes, cared for as best I could. Now cared for very well with some being restored. There is climate control in here. No need to lock it up behind acrylic boxes. The ones that are that delicate are in acrylic boxes. I eat anyone who touches these paintings.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Damaging a vampire’s property typically means that you have an unfortunate accident and are found floating in a body of water.

  “These cannot be replaced. I tell everyone to respect the history here. If they cannot, I kill them. Fuck people who don’t listen. I don’t understand why it’s so hard to follow a simple rule. Keep your hands to yourself.”

  “I’m guessing by the tone of your voice. You’ve had some problems.”

  “Stupid humans being stupid,” he grumbled as we stepped out from the artwork.

  In the distance, I saw shelving for books. Filled with items which could not have been written recently by far. There appeared to be some scrolls just sitting on the shelf haphazardly.

  “Art and books,” I said.

  “I like to read,” Quin said. “Lu collects books. Ever hear of the Library of Alexandria?”

  “Yes. It was burned to the ground, wasn’t it?”

  “That was Lu’s property. He was upset, let’s say. So were a great many others. Until the library was destroyed sometime in the late third century, I think, Lu was almost at peace. He even allowed other vampires to read his collection.