Ageless

by Cege Smith

  “Thinking about Jeremiah, are we?” Elysa’s lilting voice came chuckling out of the darkness.

  Violet whirled around and found the tall vampire standing behind her. Elysa was leaning back against the railing and had a wry grin on her face.

  “I’d like to be left alone if you don’t mind,” Violet said, swishing her hair over her shoulder and deliberately looking in the other direction. She tried to channel Riveka. When Riveka made that kind of gesture, anyone with a ten-foot radius scattered. Annoyed, she could tell that Elysa hadn’t moved an inch.

  After several minutes of silence, Violet turned and glared. Elysa was watching her with an openly amused look. “You’re spunky,” Elysa said. “I like that.”

  Violet rolled her eyes. She knew that she should be scared that she was standing less than five feet away from a being who could rip her throat out and toss her dying body over the side, but the intensity of the last twenty-four hours and her lack of sleep made her bold. She squinted up into the sky. “The sun’s coming up. Don’t you have some coffin to go crawl into?”

  Elysa shook her head. “Didn’t they teach you anything? Let me just put it this way; I have some privileges that others do not. I can walk in the daylight with just slight discomfort.”

  “Privileges? Is that because you’re really old?” Violet quipped.

  “One hundred and twenty-five,” Elysa said. “But no, that’s not what I meant.” She was unfazed by Violet’s sarcasm. “If a vampire is old enough to have passed the point where sunlight is detrimental, that benefit can be passed along to those he sires, if they’re lucky. Which I was.”

  Violet realized with a start that Elysa was implying she had been sired by someone like Jeremiah. That would make perfect sense, if she and Jeremiah had a relationship once, but the idea still made her jealous. She wondered what type of woman would pique his interest. She wanted to know if she possessed any of those qualities.

  “What were you like before you became a vampire?” Violet said before she could catch herself. Her curiosity about Jeremiah was winning out over her dislike of Elysa. She was also trying to determine how the world she knew before could intersect and co-exist with the world where vampires existed.

  Elysa looked surprised by the question. She studied Violet’s face as if trying to determine if the question was genuine or not. “I was just a child really,” she said finally, crossing her arms. “I lived in a small town in Louisiana with my family. I married my childhood sweetheart. My life was simple and quiet. Then the war came and my husband thought it was his duty to fight for our country. Needless to say, he never came home.”

  “What happened?” Violet asked.

  Elysa smirked. “I was young and lonely, so that’s really the wrong question. The right question is who happened.”

  “Oh,” Violet said. “You don’t have to tell me anything else.” With the way Elysa was smiling, she realized that she didn’t really want to know more about that part of the story.

  “You seem so enamored with Jeremiah. I think you should know more about the man that you were so willing to throw in with a few hours ago, don’t you?”

  “I made the decision to stay in the place where I felt safe as opposed to going off with some strange woman who barged in the door uninvited,” Violet retorted.

  “Safe? You think you were safe there?” Elysa openly laughed, holding her stomach. “Oh, they did have the wool pulled over your eyes. He must have had Jonah doing his dirty work.”

  Violet felt anger growing inside of her. If there was one thing she detested, it was being laughed at. “No. I trust my friend, Margo.”

  Elysa stopped laughing with a start. “Margo, eh? Well then, you would think that you and I would get along like BFFs, Violet.”

  “Why’s that?” Violet said, slightly surprised at Elysa’s ability to use current slang so appropriately.

  “Well, for one thing, Margo is my cousin.”

  Violet thought that there was nothing that could surprise her anymore that evening, but that revelation was the last straw. “I want to be left alone.”

  She stormed inside the car and found that the sitting area was empty. Stalking to the back, she saw that there was a door on each side of the short hallway that led to the door at the back of the car. There was a small piece of paper taped to the door on the right that said “Violet.”

  Blinking away tears, she pushed the door open and practically fell into the small space. It was barely bigger than a closet but she didn’t care as long as there were no vampires inside. There was a small bed and a shelf up above. A narrow wooden bench seat was just across from it, and her duffel bag was sitting on it. The red dress hung on the small rod of the exposed closet. Apparently their trip was going to be longer than just a few hours.

  Violet locked the door behind her, knowing that if someone really wanted to get in they could. It still made her feel better. She was exhausted. She didn’t bother taking off her clothes, but crawled under the sheets of the small bed. Lying on her back, there was just an inch between her arm and the wall. Part of her wanted to process what she had just been told, but the other part just wanted to close her eyes and try to forget. In the end, mental exhaustion won out and Violet rolled to face the wall. As sleep overtook her, she hoped that when she woke up she would find it had all been a bad dream.

  Violet’s dream was dark. She didn’t know how she knew that she was dreaming, but she did. She was standing in the middle of a huge cemetery. Gravestones, large and small, were scattered all around her. She looked down and saw that she was wearing a white nightgown. It had an empire waist and long billowing sleeves. Her hair was loose and she could feel it flowing down her back. Her attention was drawn to a copse of trees on top of a hilltop on the other side of the cemetery. Her feet moved in that direction.

  As she glided among the tombstones, she tried to see the names that were on some of them, but the words were all blurred out. Violet didn’t feel anything menacing around her, just stillness and calm, as if the place was waiting for something. She ran her fingertips over the tops of the hard stones as she passed each of them. For some reason she felt light and weightless. It made her want to dance, but that would be inappropriate. So she skipped instead.

  Violet didn’t go directly to the hillside. She zigzagged between some of the bigger tombstones. One was much larger than the others, and she realized that it was a mausoleum. It had stone steps that led up to a small outcropping along the front, and her feet took her right up to stand there looking curiously at the doors. She took a step backwards, balancing precariously at the edge, trying to see the name engraved at the top. She gave a small growl of frustration as she saw the letters were blurred once again. She wished she understood why the name was being hidden from her.

  A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She whipped her head around, feeling certain at that moment that she wasn’t alone in the cemetery. Suddenly she felt the weight of many eyes on her and goose bumps ran up her forearms. She rubbed her arms to try to warm them as she shivered. All the playfulness that existed moments before was gone.

  She searched the darkness between the gravestones from her slightly elevated vantage point, but couldn’t see any other movement. Her eyes were drawn again to the trees on the hilltop. That’s where she was supposed to be going. She had gotten distracted. Eager now to find out what was up there, Violet lightly tread back down the stairs to the soft ground.

  Now she tried to find the most direct path to her destination. The tombstones ended just at the bottom of the hill, and then she began her climb. There was grass almost as high as the top of her thighs, and she found that pushing through it was more difficult than she imagined. The incline increased and her breath was coming in shorter gasps. Finally, she stood at the top of the hill looking at the outside of a circular ring of evergreen trees. But it wasn’t the trees that she had climbed up the hill to see. She wanted to see what was inside the ring.

  Not wanting to g
et scratched up by the needles by trying to wedge through the tree wall, she decided to check around it first. On the backside of the ring, she found a small path that wound its way into the inner sanctum. It was exactly what she had been looking for.

  Violet stepped onto the path. The bits of gravel bit into the soft skin on the bottom of her foot and she bit back a gasp. More gingerly this time, she stepped forward, brushing the thinner tree branches away that were in her way. A second later she was inside. The first thing she noticed was how warm it was there. A sweat broke out across her forehead. But then she forgot about the temperature because her eyes were drawn to the large monument in front of her.

  It was like someone had taken a huge rectangular boulder and put it atop a wide base. But the base was hollowed out and she could see that water followed from the top of the boulder down the sides and into the base at the bottom. She could see shimmering streaks of gold in the boulder reflected through the streams of water. It was beautiful. She approached the monument with caution, but couldn’t keep her fingers from skimming the surface of the water at the base. It was cool to the touch.

  Violet made her way slowly all the way around the monument. She didn’t know what it was, but she was entranced. There was a magical energy that called to her. She just didn’t know how to respond. As she came back around the boulder, she sucked in a breath. She had been right. She wasn’t alone. Jeremiah stood there watching her.

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  “I am always here,” he said. “Regardless of what Elysa thinks, she can’t keep me away from what I want.” His voice held a possessive tone that gave her a small thrill.

  “What do you want, Jeremiah?” She was bold in her dreams. She crossed the distance between them and stood in front of him, peering up into his dark eyes. She desperately wanted him to kiss her.

  His hand reached up and caressed her cheek and she closed her eyes, leaning into it. His other hand rested lightly on her hip, and then she felt herself spun around so that her back was to him. His arms encircled her waist as he pulled her closer to him. Then he bent down and whispered, “Look again, Violet.”

  Violet looked back at the boulder. The gold streaks now formed patterns. She could see them illuminated beneath the sheet of water. As she watched, they glowed and swirled on the surface of the stone as if they were alive. At one point, she thought for sure she saw the symbol that had appeared on her hand, but it was gone before she could be sure. Then she saw it. The swirls settled into a few very familiar characters.

  She gasped. The gold glowing letters came into view just as she felt his teeth sink into her neck. It said “Violet Swanson Ward.” It was her gravestone.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  She burst out of the bed and forgetting where she was, hit her head on the curved wall right above her. “OUCH!” she cried out as her hand flew to her forehead. Her fingertips came away bloody. The remnants of her dream were slow to leave her mind, and she found herself wildly glancing around the small room. There was still the sense that there was a presence with her.

  Then she heard a pounding on her door. “Violet? Are you all right? Violet, answer me right now!” Riveka’s voice demanded. “What’s going on?”

  Her head throbbed as she swung her legs out of the bunk and got to her feet. It took only two steps before she reached the door and unlocked it. Riveka almost fell through the open doorway. Her grandmother looked like she was ready to go to a lady’s luncheon, wearing a fashionable pant suit, and her hair was twisted up in a tasteful chignon.

  As her grandmother’s eyes swept over her, she could just imagine what Riveka was seeing. She was in the same rumpled clothes as the night before and likely she had strands of hair flying in every direction combined with a bloody gash on her head. She was sure she looked like a complete mess.

  Riveka calmed as soon as she realized that Violet was in one piece, and then her lips pursed. “You gave me a fright with that yell, Violet. What’s the problem?”

  Violet said, “I had a bad dream and then I hit my head. I’m sorry to startle you, Grandmother. I should go clean this up.” Violet wasn’t in any mood to deal with Riveka. She sidestepped past her grandmother and took a guess that the bathroom was the door on the other side of hers. She took a small breath of relief when she found that she was right.

  “Violet? I expect you to be ready for breakfast in fifteen minutes. Don’t be late,” Riveka’s voice floated in behind her.

  “Um hmm,” Violet said, shutting the door quickly. She took a deep breath and turning around found herself in another tiny room. There was a toilet, a small shower, and a sink. Nothing fancy, just functional. She gripped either side of the sink after turning on the water. She looked up into the mirror and then gasped. There was no mark on her forehead at all. Holding her hand up so that she could see it better, she saw the drying red liquid still clearly on her fingertips. She sniffed them. The coppery smell of blood was unmistakable. She was certain it was her blood, but icy tendrils of fear coiled in her stomach. What happened to the gash on her forehead? What did that mean?

  Slowly she sloshed water on her face and tried to think straight. She tried to remember all the pieces of her dream. Jeremiah had been there, and she pulled her hair away from her neck, remembering the bite. Seeing nothing there, she felt silly. Of course it had been just a dream. Maybe she was hallucinating.

  Remembering her grandmother’s schedule, she ran her fingers through her long hair to try to calm some of the flyaway strands. She looked barely presentable and she knew it. Keep her eyes down, she left the bathroom and crept back into her designated room. Making a closer inspection of the contents of the duffel bag, she found a hair brush and travel-size toiletries that would help make her feel semi-human again. She decided to change her shirt, and found that the only one left in the bag had a decidedly more feminine flair then she cared for. It was a deep purple with capped sleeves, a flared fit, and a shimmery lace overlay. If she hadn’t felt all sweaty and gross, she would have gone to breakfast in her T-shirt, but she knew Riveka would disapprove.

  Ten minutes later, Violet emerged from the back of the railcar into the bright sunshine streaming through the windows of the sitting area at the front of the car. Her grandparents were already sitting in the small sitting space. Her grandfather was reading the paper and her grandmother was looking over the small leather-bound notebook that Violet knew was her social calendar. She had mentioned to Riveka once that she could use her smartphone to keep everything in one place, but Riveka made it clear that she preferred the old-fashioned way of doing things. There was no sign in the car of Elysa or her companions.

  A coffee pot and empty cup were sitting on a tray on the coffee table in between the chairs her grandparents occupied and the small sofa opposite them. On a plate next to the coffee pot, Violet saw an assortment of bagels and fresh fruit. Her stomach immediately growled, and she realized that she couldn’t even remember the last time she had eaten. She wanted to swipe the plate of food off the table and escape back to her room, but she knew that she couldn’t. Instead, she sat down on the edge of the middle cushion of the sofa, tucking her legs off to the side and crossing them right at her ankles. Her back was ramrod straight, and she waited.

  It took almost five minutes before Riveka finally looked up. “I’m sure you are famished, Violet. Have something to eat. Then we should talk.”

  Violet didn’t like the sound of that. Riveka didn’t talk. Riveka gave orders. But at least she had released her to be able to eat. Eagerly, she grabbed a small plate and filled it with fruit and a bagel. She passed over the cream cheese and then pulled a small fork from a small pile of them next to the food. Setting her plate down, she found a napkin and laid it across her lap. Then she took the fork and plate and started to eat. She kept her bites small, and set down her fork after each one. Before picking the fork back up, she made sure that her mouth was empty again.

  Her grandmother’s gaze was heavy. Violet remembered what a
shock mealtimes were after moving in with her grandparents. Riveka was militant about ensuring that Violet portrayed the part of a proper lady, and that included a complete overhaul of Violet’s eating habits and dining room table behavior. There were no free passes; Violet either got it right, or there was a hard rap across her knuckles. There were many nights that she cried herself to sleep, a hand gently cradled next to her chest, stiff and barely able to move. The rules seemed endless, and often she wondered if she’d ever get them right. Being sent to school during the year was a relief for many reasons, but not the least of which was because she could dress and eat the way that she wanted too.

  Violet found that she did have questions as she sat waiting for her grandmother to continue, but she didn’t say anything. Riveka was very clear. Children did not speak unless spoken too. That lesson had been one of the hardest for her to learn. Where Violet’s parents had welcomed and encouraged inquisitive thought, Riveka had little patience for it. It made Violet sad to think that was likely what her father’s childhood must have been like, and it didn’t surprise her that her father would have rebelled. At least Violet had the memory of her parents to remind her that life under Riveka’s roof wasn’t the only family life example out there.