The Power

by Cynthia Roberts

  ““You feel no pain.” I said, reading it in her eyes. She felt nothing, but perhaps a deep curiosity to what I was and what I felt.

  ““I feel alone.” She said, dropping her gaze to the foot of the bed. “It is the world I live in: solitude.”

  ““Then take me with you. You will not be alone any longer.” I promised. It was my one chance at escape. I knew it. I could feel it, though at the time I thought that she was an angel there to take me home to my heavenly rewards. She was no angel, but she was no devil either; not good, nor evil.

  ““You know not what you ask.” She whispered, lifting her wide, blue eyes to look upon me.

  ““You came here tonight for a reason.” I worked my way up into a sitting position to face her. “It was me.” I said strongly, somehow sensing that I was on the right path.

  ““It was your thoughts that called me here.” She confessed, and she stepped in closer. “Most curious these thoughts. You have begged for death, yet you fear it. You crave power and strength, yet you lack the courage to take it.” She said, sizing me up with those two sentences. I lowered my gaze in shame at her words. She was right. I was nothing though. I was a lowly servant girl. Who was I to ask for these blessing of strength and power and why did I crave them so?

  ““Perhaps you were meant to be more than whom you are?” The woman said softly as if answering the question I had not uttered out loud. “I was once somebody else as well, someone not so strong, not so courageous.”

  “I gasped in shock at her words because I knew it could not be true. This creature before me oozed strength and power. I could not picture her otherwise.

  ““But what is strength? What is courage? I know not. They are emotions that I do not possess, but you will not understand that unless you are standing on my side of the mirror.” she whispered smartly.

  “Her words were confusing. I didn’t like the confusion. It made the illness that had consumed me these past few days seem to become stronger against me, and I sank down into my bed, willing myself to get it over with and die.

  ““After death is a rebirth.” The woman whispered softly against my ear. I opened my eyes to her words. A rebirth sounded heavenly to me at the moment.

  ““A rebirth?” I questioned her, and she nodded just once.

  ““From day to night.” She said.

  “The confusion returned, and I wallowed in self-pity and doubt once more. “I don’t understand.” I tried to shout at her, but my dry, parched throat would not permit it. I grabbed my aching throat in agony, trying not to give into another coughing fit.

  ““You are not on my side of the mirror, now, are you?” she crouched down beside me. Her hand lifted to my face. It burned like ice to a fire once again. “Are you willing to step through the mirror, young Lillian?” she asked, knowing my name, though I had not given it to her. I stared at her with the fear that pounded in my heart. I said nothing because I feared if I spoke that I would take the coward’s way out, that I would decline her offer, and I felt strongly that her offer was too precious to resist. Her hand slithered across my cheek to my neck where her long, sharp nails tapped almost impatiently. “Are you ready to kiss this life goodbye, Lillian, to be reborn?” she put to me.

  “Again, I said nothing. I simply waited, with a pounding heart of terror, but also feeling a great anticipation. I could not wait! She reached for me, and I turned my head away, facing the drab, colorless wall and shutting my eyes to the spinning world of delusions around me. The sharpness at my neck bit into me for just a moment and then my dark world began to spin around me. I saw faces. I saw my mother’s face, who had been dead and gone since I was a child of five. I saw her smiling at me, playing games with me and I was filled with delight. I saw my father, who had never been kind to me. I saw him take my brother, Philip, out for a ride, a ride that Philip would never return from, an accident that had taken my dear brother from me forever. Sadness, like the despair I had felt so many times before engulfed me until I was drowning within it. My hands shot out, grasping for something to hold on to, something to pull me to safety. My hands threaded into silk, and I pulled it toward me as the flashes of memories continued to assault my mind. I saw the day that my Uncle Dashing had brought me to the Winters’ Manor. I had been eight years old at the time. Uncle Dashing had assured Lady Winters that I would make a fine playmate for her young daughter, Gail. I had. And then I saw Gail. I saw her forlorn face on the day that she had been married off to that horrid, old man who would take her away from me forever. She had been my only true friend, and she had been sentenced to a life of misery, and so had I. Screams of denial erupted from me and then the suffocation began. I grabbed my throat, feeling as each breath was dragged from my lungs, leaving me spent, and gasping for air that would not come. I felt it then. It was upon me swiftly: death.

  “My eyes, wide with the terror of the unknown, shot open for one last glimpse of the world around me. I saw her there, standing over me, watching me as I spit and sputtered into death, and then suddenly, the terror left me and all was still and quiet. A dark void seemed to fill my eyes. and I could neither feel nor see anything for what seemed like an eternity.

  “The first sensation I can recall is the taste, the saltiness as it slipped across my numb lips, pooling on my dry tongue, and sliding warmly down my throat. It came in rivers it seemed, pouring down my gullet into my belly, filling me with warmth and security that I had never known before. Images flashed before my eyes, yet I still could not move. I saw shadows play across the dull, drab walls, shadows that could move and speak to me, and then I heard it: the melancholy music that began with the last thump of my heart. It seemed to have a life of its own as it sang to me. It sang to me of things I never would have thought possible, and I listened as it calmed me and gave me the strength that I needed to rise.

  “I sat there on the edge of my bed and I knew that something was incredibly different. I breathed in the stale air, but it did not make me feel as it had before. My pale hand rose to my forehead, to feel for the fever that had burned inside of me, but I felt nothing, not warmth nor cold. The only thing that I did feel was strength, and it was miraculously substantial. I was well. I smiled happily. I stood from my bed and twirled around excitedly. I hadn’t felt that strong or healthy in years upon years. I felt as if I could dance forever and never grow tired. It was a miracle! I was well!

  “At the sound of a door creaking open I looked up, startled by what I saw there. Widow Winters stood in her nightdress, looking so pink and full of life, like she never had before. In that moment, it was as if I had never truly seen her before. Her skin seemed to pulse with life. I watched the slow rise and fall of her chest as she inhaled and exhaled. Then something deeper came to me. My eyes dropped to the pulse beat at her throat. It seemed to be beating to the same tune as the music in my head was, but that couldn‘t be right. Could it?

  ““What has happened here?” Widow Winters demanded angrily. “You’re up, twirling about when just this morning you were on death’s door.” She said as if complaining. It confused me. Hadn’t she wanted me to get well? She had called the doctor to me after all. “All for naught.” I thought I heard her mutter, and my eyes narrowed on her.

  ““What is that?” she said in sudden alarm. “You’re bleeding, dear child. Lord, but Jesus, is there rats in this cellar?” She nodded toward my neck. My hand lifted, drawing back blood. It seemed only natural for me to suckle the sticky, red liquid from my fingers. Widow Winters looked at me oddly. She took a step back from my room, and I couldn‘t help but to notice that the rhythm in my head had picked up beat.

  ““Since you are well, I will expect you attending at breakfast.” Widow Winters ordered sharply. I nodded because I knew that it was my duty. I was there to serve Lady Winters and her daughters, Samantha and Willis. I would do my duty. Honor was all that I had left.

  “When the door closed, I suddenly spun around in search of the woman that had visited my room the night before, but
she was nowhere to be found. I had to have dreamed her up, I decided. Yes, the fever had brought the delusions to me, I reasoned. I shrugged my shoulders and began to dress for the day. I felt like a new person. I smiled. It was going to be a wonderful day, I decided, and I went about getting dressed for it.

  Chapter three

  It read like a journal, Nicole thought in amazement as she sat there with the blankets pulled up around her shoulders as a small form of comfort. At fourteen, she had begun to doubt if what she had seen and heard with her own eyes that night when she had been seven years old had been real or not. She had been a small child after all, and she had witnessed her parents being murdered. No one had ever questioned her about that night, deciding not to bring up old, painful memories. They walked on eggshells around her as if she were fragile, as if her mind would snap at the mentioning of her parents. Nicole glanced over at the silver-framed photo of her parents’ smiling faces. In the photograph they were all snuggled together, her parents with their strong, protective arms around her. But, they hadn’t been strong, had they?

  “I’ll be back for you, Nicole. I’ll protect you forever.” The strong male voice came to her mind once again as it often had revisited her in the past. It was her strongest memory of that night, that voice so strong, so soothing that it had almost felt hypnotic. He still spoke to her, she thought, and her heart beat away from her in fright. Who was he? Why had he been there that night to comfort her, then to just walk away? Nicole closed her eyes. The memories came back in shadows. She could hear the terrified screams of her parents, the begging and then that horrid, evil laughter. It had been a game to them, she thought furiously. Her parents had been killed for a game!

  “I’ll be back for you…” The male voice echoed in her mind once more, and her blue eyes shot open wide in alarm. Somehow, she believed that voice. He would be back for her. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing though. She just knew that it both comforted her and scared the living shit out of her at the same time!

  Why had he been carrying this journal? Nicole had never told anyone that the jacket she had been found in that night had not been her father’s. She had never mentioned the journal she had found within the lining either. Yes, it was a journal, a journal of a young woman’s life. Lillian, that was her name. What had happened to her? Why had her journal fallen into the hands of that strange man that night? Why had it fallen into her hand now, Nicole wondered thoughtfully as she peered back down at the old, yellow pages. It was very old, she thought. It read, 1842. At least, that was the year it had all begun in. Quietly, she turned the page and read on.

  “It wasn’t until later that evening, that I realized something was incredibly different about me. I had come back to my room to wash for dinner, and I looked into the broken piece of looking glass that I had mounted on my wall so that I might brush out my hair, but when I looked up I saw that not a hair was out of place. It hung in long, silky, blonde rivets down my back, and it shone as if it had an inner light of its own. I touched the silk-like texture of the sleek, golden hair, and I gasped. My hair had never shown so brightly before. I caught sight of my eyes next. They, too, seemed to have a secret shine to them, so blue and wide upon my paler than usual face. Imperfections that had been there the day before had all but dissipated, and my face was clean from them, as well was the rest of me. I stood there forever it seemed, staring at my reflection in the looking glass and wondering what had happened to me. Was this the effect of my illness? It was all together confusing and upsetting so I turned from the looking glass, and I bathed. I had carted three large buckets of steaming hot water to the old wooden tub that I had dragged into my room. I could see the steam rising, and I could not wait to slip into the water and lavish in the heat as I scrubbed away the day’s dirt and grime. I scrubbed my hair, face, and body, and soaked for a good while, lost in my thoughts and recalling the dream from the night before with such vividness that I wondered if perhaps I was obsessed. I could not shake the thoughts from my mind. Who was the woman who had visited me, and how had I conjured her up in my dreams when I had never set eyes on her in my life?

  “I rose from the bath, drying myself on a clean piece of cloth and went to the mirror to brush out my damp hair. Staring at my face, I did not recognize myself. Where once a filthy, little servant girl had stood, now stood a tall, regal beauty. I touched my cheek; it was soft. My lips seemed fuller, more fleshy. My eyes sparkled with color and spoke of things I did not comprehend. I had changed, I realized. Overnight, I had changed. Perhaps had grown into a woman? I wasn’t sure what exactly had happened to me. I just knew that I felt and looked incredibly different as if I had indeed been reborn.

  ““After death comes a rebirth.” I could hear her soft-hypnotic voice in my head say.

  “Feeling out of sorts and a bit frightened I threw my brush at the mirror, and it came crashing to the floor with a loud, shattering noise. Glass spun out, catching me in the arm and slicing through my skin. I winced at the slashing pain. I saw the jagged cut torn across my forearm. I picked the sliver of glass from it with ease. I watched as the blood slipped from my wound and something within me seemed to come alive in that moment, something unfamiliar and animalistic. It beat inside me, growing and growing as I watched the blood river over my arm. Subconsciously I started to lift my arm to my lips, but then something else inside of me screamed that I shouldn’t. Jumping up in my fear, I grabbed a rag and wrapped it tightly around the throbbing wound and wiped my arm clean. I dressed quickly, and ran from the room and down the dark halls of the basement. I ran not knowing where it was that I was going, but knowing that I could not stay in that demon room any longer. It was possessed, I told myself, or perhaps I was. Whatever was happening to me was so frightening and unsettling that I felt I was losing a part of myself forever.

  “I ran to escape myself. It was futile, but at the moment I didn’t seem to realize it. And then a sound stopped me. It was a familiar sound: the butler’s cat, Tabby. It meowed and came from the shadows, brushing up against my legs. I bent low and scooped up the fluffy cat, pulling its warm body against me and holding it close, thinking that it would aid in ridding me of my fears. But then I heard it again, that strange tune in my head beating to the slow, soft beats of the cat’s heart. I shook my head in denial. I slid down the dirty wall with the cat in my arms, stroking it swiftly and listening to its soothing purr.

  “I tried not to listen, but I could hear it beating in my ears, the soft beat of the loving animal’s heart. It trusted me, I knew that it did. The cat had been my only companion since Miss Gail had left me, but the thoughts raging in my head betrayed the animal. I was hungry, but it was a different sort of hunger. Not the kind that you feel in your belly, but something that I felt pulsing within the heart of me. It grew more powerful by the second. I closed my eyes against it. I pulled the cat tighter against me, holding it with a death grip as if I thought the cat could ward off any evil spirits that might try and harm me. Suddenly, the cat hissed as if sensing danger. It clawed at my arms, tearing into my skin, but still I held it there, wanting its companionship and protection. It continued to hiss and growl at me, and I lifted it to speak to it, to calm it, but then my eyes locked with its eyes and something powerful seemed to take over me.

  “I didn’t realize what I had done until it was over and the cat, Tabby, lay lifeless in my hands. Its blood was spilt clumsily all over my dress and my mouth. I reeled back in horror, tossing the cat’s lifeless body away from me, and I rose and ran as the insanity tried to take control of me. I had to fight it. I had to fight whatever was doing it’s best to take me over.

  “I ended up outside in the cool moonlight of the gardens, somewhere lost within the maze of hedges that Widow Winter’s late husband had planted years upon years ago. I sank down onto a stone bench and cried into my hands. It couldn’t be! I hadn’t done what I had just done, I told myself. I was insane. I had to be! Widow Winters would surely see me hung for my crimes!

&nb
sp; ““The fear will leave you.” I heard a calm, female voice whisper in my mind. My eyes shot upward, looking for the delusion that had visited me the night before. She was crouched on the bench across from me, examining her long, sharp fingernails as if nothing was wrong in this picture. When she looked up, I gasped and shrank back in terror. Her eyes were no longer blue; they were a startling, glowing white. She was not human, I decided in horror, and I rose to run again, but I stopped short, for I knew that whatever this woman before me was, I was surely to become. I turned, staring at her in wonder, in confusion, and in fear, and she stared right back in shocking calmness.

  ““You are a creature of the night now, young Lillian.” She stood to tell me, and she walked toward me with purpose. I took a step back, waiting, wondering what she had meant by her words and fearing for my life at the same time. “You called for me. I came. I gave you what it was that you desired. You are immortal now, all powerful, all strong.” She told me, and I swallowed the new fears rising in my throat.

  ““Immortal?” I questioned, not understanding.

  ““A vampire.” She said, her lips not moving. “You wanted to die. I assisted you in your wishes, but I also gave you birth. You are my daughter now, Lillian, and I am your dark mother.” She told me. Mother? I thought of my real mother, of her gentle hands and sweet smile. I thought of how warm and safe I had felt cradled in her arms. I looked at the woman before me, tall, powerful, and dangerous as a Viper!

  ““My mother died when I was five years old!” I shouted at her in furious denial.

  ““Your mortal mother, yes. You mourn her greatly, though you barely knew her. It is strange how your human emotions work, most curious. Soon, that pain will leave you, as will all the others.” She said as if in way of explanation.

  ““How can it leave me? You make no sense! My mother died as well as my father and brother! I have no one left!” I screamed out in anguish, and she moved toward me so that she stood only two feet before my face. She looked down at me and touched my face, but her hand did not burn against my skin this time.