Forever

by Natalie J. Case

  “Enough, Mother, enough,” she whispered.

  I dropped her beside her brother. “Good, then get him downstairs before I change my mind. The rest of you clean up this mess and get to bed.” I walked away in silence, the heat of anger and the blood agitating me beyond the ability to rest. Daylight was only moments away, but I could not sleep.

  Of course, I, so much like Crenoral I see now, refused to see the truth of it, choosing instead to believe that I was loved, as I, in my twisted maternal need, loved them. They were the replacement for the brief, burning torch of Rebeka's company, and I was willing to overlook their transgressions for a time in order to keep them beside me. Perhaps I fooled only myself, perhaps I was the biggest fool of all.

  As caught up as I was in them, even I could see our sanctuary could not last. The lords of the lands would come, the Church would send more priests, people would search out their lost relatives. The time would come that we would need to leave the place. I tried to tell them of the dangers that existed outside, of the Hunters who would torment them until they wished I had killed them on that day, of the others like us who drink from the chalice of human flesh but might not recognize them as Kin and take their lives. They listened, but heard nothing, as is often the case with adolescent children.

  The creatures I had created would leave me slowly, finding their way out into the night, for this is the way of children. I felt very much alone and uncertain how to end it. Eventually, between my conscience and my pride came the day when I at last realized the full extent of my evil, the day when I would, at last, relinquish them to the night.

  I left them quietly, slipping off into the cold of a winter night, knowing they would not miss me, probably not even mark my absence for many nights to come. I gave thought to ending my abomination, to burning them out as I had my Brethren, but I could not bring myself to it. There was no conviction to the thought, no need to punish and extinguish, and no Jesse to provide it. They were not prepared for what would follow, but I knew that those who were strong and still able to adapt would survive the coming months and years as they adjusted to life beyond the confines of the guardianship of their mother. I didn't journey far, hovering just outside of their awareness, hidden by their own blindness.

  I watched and waited as they felt the first thrill of freedom from parental constraints, as they grew to realize I wasn't coming back, as they stretched their wings out around them. The world grew black. They killed with abandon, flinging themselves upon their prey and drawing the attention of the outside world I had done so much to keep at bay. They would discover that the world they had abandoned hadn't yet forgotten the evil that lurks in the dark. Their bloody terror spread outward from the place, stretching dark, cold fingers into the neighboring lands.

  Eventually, Hunters came, and Hunters died. A few of my children died with them, their heads sliced clean, their bodies burned. Still, I waited, praying they learned their lessons before it was too late. They did not. For each death of their own, they repaid humanity tenfold, nearly eliminating the population of the small earldom. The Church returned then with a vengeance, bringing the human king with them. I fought with myself nightly, wanting to go to them, to help them escape what was meant to be, and knowing I could not. If they were to survive, it would have to be on their own.

  Several more died in the following months, as they battled the inevitable tide of humanity, and the superior resources of the Church. One by one they vanished, dead or simply gone into the night, until only Maryse remained. I was near at hand, pressing my presence into her mind, ready to go to her, on the night when she emerged from the castle. The armies of the king and his Church stood circling the place where she approached the small regal human to whom she would offer her life. Her eyes found mine where I hid and I could feel her resignation, her near relief. She would seek no help from me.

  In all the pomp and circumstance to which she had been born, looking more a pale, frightened child, than the monster she had become, she knelt before the man her father had served, and for the sins of her Clan she surrendered the lands, the castle, and her life. One swift blow from a giant broadsword severed her head cleanly from her body and she was gone.

  A great cheer rose up from the gathered men and the order given for them to take the castle. I stood alone as they rushed inside to root out any who might be hidden within. The castle was burned, cleansed of the evil that had burrowed into it. In those days the Church had turned itself to lesser demons, or demonizing those who dared believe differently, but returned its attention to us with a vengeance. A great exorcism was performed in the town, and the process of cleansing the memory of the people began. Hunters were sent out once more, in vast numbers to hunt down my children and my brethren. Those who remained of the elder Family turned to hunting my children as well, for bringing back the terror. It was a cold time for us all.

  Chapter 11

  There was no trusting among the Family that remained, and we avoided each other as we avoided the Hunters. Mankind was perhaps safest then, in those years when our thoughts were on self-preservation, feeding only when the need grew too strong and abandoning rich hunting grounds for fear of attack. I returned to my wandering ways, avoiding friendships and distractions. I heard tales of the Vampyre, many of them greatly exaggerated or straight out lies. From time to time I could hear the Voices of my children, warning each other of dangerous towns and cities, or advising each other of quiet, peaceful places to rest. Simple, cold-blooded killing was nearly impossible for them then, but they learned that they could take a little, leaving a victim alive, but satisfying their needs. I heard rumors that some of them had made alliances with a human or two, enchanting them with the glamour of the night, or purchasing them with extravagant gifts, keeping them as companions to satisfy their hunger.

  As for myself, I was weary of it all and chose a place to rest high in the mountains near the lands of my birth, where the snow caressed the jagged peaks year round. There I had hidden in years past, there I would return from time to time throughout my life. In this place I had discovered a cavern, deep and dry and I filled it with my most valuable treasures, those items I would not, or could not, part with. There was room enough to make a home of sorts, a sleeping chamber made comfortable enough with furs and blankets and a place for cooking and such. I had, in my first running from the family, hidden there, gathering animal skins and in later years supplying it with oil for light and other needs. The cave was placed high up on a mountain face with only a treacherous path leading down to it from above and possessed of the singularly most beautiful vista I have ever or will ever see.

  It was almost as if you could see the entire world from that one spot, especially if gifted with the preternatural vision of the Family. It was cold and silent, existing in the space between mankind's domains, undiscovered, save by me. The heights were, perhaps, too much for the human frame, the air too light. I was alone. Over a year I worked at preparing the cave for my sojourn, my time away from the world at large. I carried and dragged supplies up the mountainside, through trees and meadows to the rocky crevice that hid the path.

  I craved the silence I remembered from the days of my first escape, the solitude, after all the killing. Those first years I scarcely left the cavern, except for food and even that was a desire that seemed to have left me. I savored the silence, the lack of anything, anyone. I read by oil light and candles from those volumes I could carry with me from the towns several days' journey down the mountain. I tried my hand at painting and poetry and writing down the deeds I had done.

  I suppose in some fashion I lost my senses, reliving so much pain over and over until the words fell to the page in perfect pieces. I laughed and cried alone, until the sounds faded into the distant hills. I spoke to myself or to no one in particular, or to the ghosts of those I had loved or lost or killed.

  After a time, several years at least, I began wandering further from the cave, nowhere near civilization, but far enough to hear once more the w
hisperings of my kind on the breezes. Never did I acknowledge them, or call to them, but I would sit in a grassy meadow where the Voices were the strongest and listen for hours at a time. Other times I would explore the deep ravines and caverns of the mountains, taking great perverse pleasure in leaving some mystical mark upon walls so deep within the earth, that should mankind ever find them they would puzzle for centuries over how the marking came to be.

  It was inevitable I suppose, for them to find me, for my life to pull me away from the childish pleasure I had found in my retreat. I had decided I was hungry, after a long time without mortal food or blood or formula. Days and nights were as a blur of time to me, there was little distinction. When I was hungry, I searched for food. It was late in the night, in the early summertime and I wandered aimlessly from berry bush to fruit tree, following the scents and eating as I chose. I felt her, long before she exploded into the grove where I sat awaiting her.

  She was dirty as if she had crawled from an earthen grave without pausing to bathe. She was breathless and terrified, flushed with fear. A pale faced and quiet young man accompanied her. She fell to her knees in front of me, her eyes wide as if disbelieving of my existence. “Hello, Racelle,” I said, leaning forward to cup a hand to her cheek. “What brings you to my solitude?”

  “Mother, he has come. He killed René. He's not far behind me. You must help us.”

  “Who is darling?” It was all surreal to me, as if I were watching it from a distance somehow.

  “The Hunter.”

  Something in me woke at that moment, and the months and years faded. In my mind I saw him as he had last been, crazed with the blood and self-loathing. I had promised to find him one day. It seemed he was no longer content to wait. I pulled Racelle to me then, probing her mind sharply to understand what had transpired to bring her to me. I saw René and their human companions burned at the stake, while Racelle watched from her hiding place, unable to stop it. “Come, child, quickly.” I stood and gathered her in my arms, bustling her up the mountainside to the cave.

  I could feel him coming, though still a good distance away. He doubled his pace as he felt me, and I had to reach behind me for the mortal boy who could not travel as fast. There was still an hour's journey up the mountain at a pace the boy wouldn't keep. “A long way up this hill is a crevice. Hidden in that crevice is a trail. It will lead you further up, then turn as if going off the cliff. Follow it. Watch your step. It will take you to safety. I will deal with the Hunter.” I pushed them and turned. She was terrified enough to follow my directions without question. The Hunter was coming fast. I stopped and stood my ground, waiting for him to come.

  I could almost taste him, the Change upon me before he had even appeared. He too was in full Change, blood across his face and across the red cross emblazoned upon his chest. His eyes were wild, flashing with first anger, then joy, then fear and back to anger. “What have you done, Hunter?” I said coldly.

  “Only what I was created for, Mother.” He spat the word contemptuously at me and began pacing furiously.

  “I have left you to your own life, Hunter, when I could have come to you and finished what was begun when you killed my Rebeka. Go, and I'll not take your life now.”

  “I don't think so. Would that you had ended my life long ago. Now, you must contend with what you made.” He moved closer and I could smell the madness which had blossomed within him in the years since I had last seen him. He was quite insane, and I had done this to him. It struck me as ironic and I chuckled.

  “You kill your own kind, Hunter. You don't seem to understand yourself.”

  “I understand perfectly. I am the dark avenging angel, the touch of God himself, sent and empowered to cleanse the evil of your kind.” He stopped and cocked his head to one side as if something about me seemed odd to him. “You should know that Mother, He sent you to make me.”

  “You are what you are because you took Rebeka from me, Hunter. It was my way of punishing you for your sins.”

  His teeth flashed in the moonlight. “Sins … my sins? You are one to talk about such things, aren't you? So self-righteous, so pious. Remember, I was there that day. I know exactly what you are.”

  With that he flew at me, knocking me over backward into the cold, hard ground. We grappled for a few minutes before I was able to rise again and back off a few paces. It was odd, but the old anger and anguish seemed dimmed, and I felt no overwhelming desire to kill. He was right in one respect, I was not one to judge him, not after all I had done. I moved away, trying to draw him away from the trail where Racelle and her companion had withdrawn. He followed, intent now upon his new prey, and the old forgotten.

  He tackled me once more, driving me to the grass, his teeth bared as he dove in for the kill. I pushed him off and rolled free, his teeth just grazing one shoulder. Before I could regain my feet he had his teeth buried in the fleshy part of my calf, his jaws locked. I screamed as I felt the burn of the wound, and the warmth of the blood being drawn through it. My hand closed on a rock and I cracked it against his head until he released me. My nails raked across one cheek, drawing bloody welts down his face, stark contrast to the pale glow of his skin. I limped away, trying to regain some composure and prepare for his next attack.

  He was lost in his rage, no longer was there any resemblance to sanity in him. He fought like an animal, wounded and fighting for its life. It was all I could do to protect myself. I pushed him away each time he got close enough to bite me, grunting with the effort. His own voice was reduced to growls of anger and low moans of pain, punctuated with a wordless yelling that shook the trees around us. Finally, he wrapped his arms around me and I felt his teeth clamp down on my shoulder. In pure instinct I bit down as well, finding his bulging jugular with ease. The bitter taste repulsed me, the blood infested with whatever disease had ravaged his mind. His blood was cold, thick, bitter. It only served to madden me further. I drank as quickly as I could, trying not to taste the illness that coursed through him, infecting him fully, wanting only to finally kill this man who had been a monster long before he had met me. My stomach churned with disgust as the blood hit it, lying cold in the pit of my belly.

  I closed my thoughts to it and drank rapidly. His thoughts however were open to me, like I had peeled back the canvas of a gypsy's tent. What I saw there repulsed me more than the blood, and educated me as well. In a flash of insight, or omniscience or shared memory, I saw into his sickened mind, uncontrolled, governed only by lunacy. I saw flashes of his childhood in an orphanage, his days in the seminary where he was first touched by the fever. Then, an image of Rebeka as he had seen her, a cold, calculating killer, a demon. It sent a shudder through me. Then, the dark image beside her, the protector, the true demon, and I was startled to see her wearing my face. I watched our torture and torment from his eyes outside the cells, I heard his voice ask shakily for mercy from his superiors. I heard him argue, not for our lives, but for the end of the torture, the swift mercy of death. I felt him being pushed into the cell, the stake in his hand, the absolute horror at the act filled me suddenly and I shrank away from his thoughts.

  I realized as I watched through his eyes that he had not been the true villain. He had killed Rebeka, to be sure, but he had been ordered to the act, in order to prove that he had not softened in his resolve to the cause. He had become violently ill after, and was rewarded by his superiors with the privilege of the Sunday morning service where I found him.

  I saw myself then, much younger, my face wet with tears. I heard my own voice say “I will follow you.” Jesse's voice whispered “I love you.” It startled me and I would have pulled away if I could. Then I saw myself as a child, at play in the night as I had with Adan. Memories of lives connected somehow to this man … this Hunter … memories he could not possess. The images grew chaotic, emotions spilling out that confused me, faces he couldn't possibly have known. Crenoral, Vahe, a reflection of Jesse's face.

  The bitterness gave way then to something more gent
le, more plain and I knew I was drinking back what he had already taken from me. It could go on for hours that way. My hands released him first, then my teeth, blood spilling from his open neck. Still, he clung to me, drinking greedily. I fought, pulling hard to escape him. Eventually, I won, and I backed away, feeling the skin tear where his teeth had lodged, the blood draining from the wound. He screamed in inhuman rage, the sound echoing eerily in the mountains around us, returning on the soft night breeze. Once more he came at me and we fell together, moving further and further down the side of the mountain.

  I was dazed by what I had seen, weakened with my blood loss, but I knew he was weakened as well, despite the strength of his anger. I hoped to outlast him, to keep him from killing me, but no longer desiring to kill him instead. What I would do next, I didn't know, hadn't even thought about. It was foolish I admit, but I wasn't thinking very clearly. The blood had clouded my mind. I had taken so much of his infection inside of me. I could feel it working its way into my body, taste it in my mouth. I feared I might never escape it.

  At that moment I felt the Presence of another. One old in the night, a member of the Family I had known in my childhood. It startled us both and we pulled free of each other, blood covering us as we turned and looked for him. I stepped away from the Hunter trying to find my bearings. Then, the earth beneath me gave way and I watched the sky grow distant. I reached up, and saw the briefest glimpse of a pale white face, half-familiar. “I will come for you.” I heard vaguely, whispered in my mind.

  I flailed about in the air, grasping about for something to catch a hold of and stop my headlong drop. I turned so that I could watch the ground coming to me. I don't remember screaming, but I must have. It seemed an eternity. I hung, suspended in air forever. I looked up again, for the Hunter, wondering if he had fallen too, and briefly, who the Other was. The ground reached up to embrace me, wrapping cold arms of solid rock around a body suddenly limp and frail. My heart froze as my breath exploded out of me and I felt as if my lungs had followed it. I lay suspended in that moment for longer than seemed possible, at the very brink of death, looking into it with eyes frozen open. Then, quite impossibly, I landed without notice, no sensation, no pain, only a cool blackness that separated me from the world.