Forever

by Natalie J. Case

  He found me outside a restaurant just after dark. I was in need of company, of a friend. He seemed as logical a choice as any, more so perhaps than many others in my life. He was so much like me, so human still, so scared, and uneducated in what he had become. He too needed, I could tell he had not fed since his creation. I took him to me, fed him from my formula, giving him enough to sustain him until we found something more substantial for him.

  I found myself in the rather peculiar position that night, of actually having to teach him how to kill, how to fill the new needs. In truth, it was I who finally did the killing, slipping up on a drunken old man and pulling him into the shadows of an alley, silencing him with a hand across his mouth. I showed the young one where to bite and held his victim while he fed. When he was full, the man still breathed, so I slit his throat with a small knife I kept for necessities, leaving him in a small puddle of his own blood. When I looked up from my task, Joshua was shaking with shock and fear. I smiled a small, weak little smile and stood, taking him into my arms, resting his head on my chest. “Shh, little one, it's all right. Calm yourself.” I played with his hair, brushing it out of his face as his turmoil subsided.

  As he straightened, his cheek brushed mine, awakening feelings I had thought buried with Jesse. When his lips, still warm with his dinner, pressed to mine, I pulled him closer, almost imagining it was Jesse himself I kissed. When I finally pulled away almost breathlessly, I took his hand and silently led him back to my rooms at the hotel. Dark, heavy drapes pulled tightly across the windows, and a bed draped in black guarded me against the daylight, but I wasn't sure it would be enough to protect my new friend. I settled him into the closet for the day, wrapped in the heaviest cloak I owned, promising to find better accommodations for the following day, then I settled into my bed.

  I didn't sleep much, his touch had awakened me and my almost human body could not forget so easily. I burned with a hunger I had thought forgotten, tossing restlessly most of the day and slipping into an uneasy sleep near dusk. I dreamed of Jesse and the passionate years we had spent together. I woke with the sunset, calling out his name.

  My first duty, after checking on the safety of my companion, was to find the manager and arrange a second room with darkened windows for my friend, who suffered a more severe case of the same affliction as myself. With a liberal amount of cash, the request was no problem, and he set about having the room prepared.

  Chapter 16

  Joshua moved into the new room and I set about the young one's education. We exchanged the pleasantries of names and backgrounds, vague and incomplete to be sure, then settled in to the task at hand. I found him a quick study, eager to learn from my centuries of experience and an ardent lover. He adjusted well, once the transformation was explained to him. He had not known his maker, had only happened upon him on the road into town. He said they had walked a ways together, conversing about the nature of good and evil. The man had been smooth, handsome, and rather nervous. He had talked of powers beyond the ability of mortal man to understand, and the great duty that came with it, of wanting to be rid of it, to hand it off to another. I suppose Joshua was his chosen recipient.

  Joshua said that they had stopped on the side of the road to rest, and the man fell on him, subduing him quickly and draining him of life. He had passed out, and when he came to the stranger was gone, leaving a new made vampire to face the coming of the fiery dawn. Somehow, Joshua had found cover that first night and made his way into town the next. He fought the needs of his new body with the ignorance of one who did not know he had been changed. He had been appalled and afraid.

  That was his beginning, dark and difficult to be sure, and I set about making the next years pleasant and filled with all the beauty our life could offer. I found he was a fun-loving man who had spent his mortal life with little material wealth and a smile as his calling card. Little about that changed. He brought light and inspiration to the night we shared, restoring my faith in myself, my own sense of humor and adventure. We grew comfortable with ourselves, with each other, with the semblance of a normal life which we built, even with the growing society around us. That society had grown increasingly night oriented, and we found ourselves happily attending masquerade balls and operas, ballets and concerts, making distant friends among the city's elite and endearing ourselves to its poor with generous gifts. The money was fairly easy to come by, with a few, well-placed investments and the occasional business trip to distant banks with forgotten accounts, or the sale of some rare and antique gem, and of course there was always purses and jewelry of those victims Joshua took in the dark.

  We had little need of the money ourselves, aside for the paying for our rooms and clothes and the purchase of good servants who knew how to keep their tongues.

  Shortly, we bought a house at the far edge of town, nestled back into a grove of trees, with a long, stately lane down to the main road, where we were safe from prying eyes and curious glances. Our servants maintained the house by day, and left us to ourselves by night, paid well enough to never question the idiosyncrasies of their employers. We lived well, and were known among the society of the day as well-bred, European nobility with generous hearts and pleasant manners. We played on as man and wife, adopting his mortal name and enjoying our game.

  It seems odd now, the way we lived, but it was perfectly normal to us then. He would rise first, early in the evening, as the last rays of daylight kissed the distant horizon farewell, leaving me sleeping while he went out for his meal, and returning filled with the warmth and passion of it. When we rose together we would dress, drive into town and take our evening stroll, nodding in greeting to those we passed and pausing to speak to those we knew. We would join friends at some after dinner place to sip wine and make small talk, or take in a show at the local opera house where we maintained a box. The nights stretched on around us, the darkness was alive with bright lights and festive celebrations. We attended charity balls and ballets, had intimate dinner parties at our manor, a trick for poor Joshua whose immortal stomach could no longer tolerate mortal food, but a delicious time for me.

  I was happy, pleasantly content, and only distantly disturbed by Joshua's nightly killing. He had sworn to me early on to only kill those who deserved death, those who killed, maimed, stole. That appeased my conscience somewhat, and I simply ignored the rest. I wanted happiness, and was willing to forgive much to maintain it. He remained much the same as the carefree mortal soul he had once been. He loved to play games and dress up in the finest clothes, something I don't think he had much of a chance to do as a mortal. He was not the most handsome of the men in that society, but he had a quiet charm that beamed when he laughed or smiled, and he was a loving being that always seemed to know exactly what to say. In retrospect, I didn't love him, but I was happy, or I pretended to be.

  Looking back now, I should have seen the signs, heard the hushed voices, known the strange looks on the faces of those around us. Perhaps I saw and simply chose to ignore them, hoping that this time it would pass me by. In my happiness with my life, I was blind, caught again unaware. No matter which way I turn it in my head, even now, I still do not see how it came to pass, what it was that gave us away, or how they came to know us for what we were.

  It was a night like so many others in our time together, we had plans to attend a ball at the Lady Shannon McKendric's home at the outskirts of town. We rose, a little later than was usual, and I bathed and began dressing while Joshua went out for his meal. When he returned he was excited, flushed. He told me that he had nearly been caught. He had nearly finished when he heard approaching footsteps and voices. They seemed to know exactly where he was. He hid in the trees along the river, leaving the poor, nearly dead whore in the grass beside the path where he had dropped her. He swore he hadn't been seen, that surely she was dead. He was petrified, agitated, pacing around me in circles as he spoke. His face wore the same horrified look it had that night when I had first found him. Again and again he repeated that sh
e was surely dead, she could not have lived so far drained of life.

  “Never-the-less, Joshua, we must make plans to leave here. It is time to move on.” It was a general statement, and I bustled him in to clean himself up and prepare for our merriment while I gave thought to our leaving. It was a fun evening, uneventful, culminating in a delightful performance from the eldest of Mrs. McKendric's daughters, a lass of seventeen with designs on becoming an opera singer. I was pleasantly tired as we returned from the ball. The city was peaceful and quiet, and from my bedroom I could hear the faint sounds of the swollen river a mile or so away. I slipped off to sleep in Joshua's arms, in a dark basement bedroom, a smile still on my face.

  The next nights were oddly still, Joshua kept closer to home, killing only when necessary and avoiding the seedy section of town that was his customary hunting ground. We laid plans to leave, heading west into the growing country, but decided to delay our departure until after the already announced party to celebrate our thirteenth anniversary. My slight apprehension over Joshua's near discovery faded and life returned to normal.

  That, of course, was when it chose to happen, as we eased our vigilance and Joshua's hunger overcame his caution. When I woke that night, Joshua was, as usual, already gone. I dressed casually for our stroll, a little warmly against the unseasonable chill in the air, and awaited his return, finishing off one bottle of formula and opening another. When I drained that as well, half from hunger, half from boredom, I set about making more, tinkering in the lab for well over an hour. When I came out it was to step onto the porch and sweep my keen eyes up and down the long lane, looking for Joshua.

  He was late, alarmingly so, especially after the trouble the month before. Still, I reminded myself harshly, he was a grown man, nearly to his thirteenth year, and capable of taking care of himself.

  I forced myself back into the house and busied myself with the plans for the anniversary party. It was almost two hours later that I heard a thud on the front porch, not quite a footstep. I opened the door a little hesitantly, and fell to my knees beside the bloody pile that had been Joshua. His victim's blood was still on his lips, his mouth open in a violent sneer to reveal those devilish fangs. His hands curled around the stake that impaled his body, a small gold cross pendant tangled around one finger. As if mesmerized, I slowly disentangled the dainty chain, pulling it free from his dead hands.

  Blood clung to the gold, even as I wiped it on my dress. I'm not sure what brought me out of my shock, but my head snapped up, away from Joshua who was already beginning to resemble the skeleton his body would have been in the grave. I was circled in. A mob had gathered with torches and clubs and other weapons I couldn't see, but could sense. I wiped at the tears in my eyes, angry and more than a little scared. My breath caught in my throat as they came closer. I was paralyzed in a sudden return of fear, those men before me replaced by visions of long dead Hunters on that night so long before.

  Old pain remembered, like an icy knife into my soul took my breath from me, robbed me of reason and sent my mind to a dark, forgotten place. The first rock hit my shoulder, sending me sprawling backwards. The second just missed my head by mere inches and the third caught me in the stomach. I scrambled for the door, pulling it frantically shut behind me, turning the key in the lock. My skirt hem caught in the door. As I tried to rip it free, I could hear them coming closer. I pulled loose with a great tear as the first of their torches broke through a window, igniting the drapes. I ran for the back of the house, but more torches greeted me there.

  I was surrounded. My mind raced, unable to think clearly through the fear and adrenaline. My shoulder was bleeding and already badly bruised. There was a deep pain in my stomach that I knew would not heal quickly. I was trapped in a house that by morning would be little more than ashes. I sank to the floor in a pile of skirts and heaved a heavy sigh. At that moment I gave in, gave up at last, and would have willingly died there with Joshua in a fiery, spectacular show, suddenly so weary of it all, of the fight to survive, of a life with no purpose. I felt the fire singing flesh and welcomed the pain, surrendered to it … but, it was not to be. They did not wish my end to come so easy as that. They were coming now, breaking in the doors, searching the rooms, pulling me to my feet and out into the night. The Change flickered in me, but left quickly, my fury gone. I was calm and defeated as they dragged me out into their midst and pinned me to the ground beneath them. There they staked me down against the hard ground, where I could watch my house and Joshua burn.

  I withdrew inside myself, beyond even that place where the terror nibbled at the corners of my heart, past the haunting memories of another night, another burning building. I closed my eyes on the sight and settled my soul into the moment of death. I heard them around me, their fear and hatred tainting their once friendly voices. They spoke of the myriad dead found in the city over the last thirteen years, nearly one a night. They spoke of demons and monsters I had thought long buried in human folklore. They spoke like the fevered Hunters of old, spouting religious dogma and rhetoric as if it might protect them from me.

  Then, they turned on me. The fire had nearly consumed the house, and Joshua was gone. Their beating was vicious and cruel, striking at me with sticks and rocks and feet and fists until I bled and could barely remain conscious. Still, nothing stirred within me, nothing until I heard my name, whispered in the far recess of my mind, in a voice dead for more than a century, Rebeka's voice. I saw her face as it had been in death, so beautiful, so peaceful. She called to me, urged me to open my eyes, to live. Then I saw Joshua, as he had been in death, cruel, ugly death. Something small lived in me still; my heart beat loudly in my chest. I opened my eyes.

  At least one of these men had somehow known the truth, the truth beyond the harmless mythology of their day, beyond the campfire stories. One of them had known how to kill Joshua. I knew then that this had been no accident. There was a Hunter among them.

  I lay still and watched them watching me, trying to determine which of them it might be, or if he was even among them. My body was broken, more so than during my captivity at the hands of the first Hunters, but not nearly what it was after the fall, my heart beat was slow and irregular. For a long time I waited, watched, thought. I listened to Rebeka whispering in my head and I wondered what their plans were for me.

  It was less than an hour before dawn before I realized what they meant for me. They scattered into small groups, standing in turns to guard me. They would leave me there to watch the sunrise as I had the burning of my home, to die like an animal, chained to the ground, caught in their trap as my demise approached. The thought terrified me. Visions of my brave and wondrous Jesse as he walked into that final sunrise filled my mind. I found my desire to live in the terror. It took all of my considerable strength of will not to thrash about in my bindings, screaming and hoping to break free.

  Instead, I lay there and held myself tightly, praying that I might find the strength Jesse had that fateful morning all those years before, to face that sunrise with stoic bravery. I would get no chance to sink hungry fangs into a soft neck as one of them bent to stake me. They dispersed as the sun came, bringing its painful, lingering death over the distant horizon. Only one young man was left to guard me, so sure were they that within minutes I would be dead.

  I felt it first on the soles of my bare feet which faced east into the coming dawn, that old, half familiar pain, the searing of my own flesh. It grew in intensity as the moments stretched outward. Just as I thought I could bear no more of it, it rose up my half exposed legs, touched my hands. I held my breath and tried not to let the pain register as it became stronger, and the smell of undead, unliving flesh filled the early morning air. I bit my tongue against it, held my breath. In my memory I could see that circle of daylight my cell window had let in, the vision of the priest standing in that puddle of light to protect himself from me. I tossed in my chains as the pain increased, and my dark hair scattered across my face, covering my tightly closed eyes. I p
rayed that I might die before I had to feel the touch of that light I had once lusted for upon my face.

  Then I felt it. A shadow crossed the path of the sun. A dark, cooling shadow. A cloud had come to offer me respite. I waited for it to move on and the torture to resume. Lightning flashed, to be followed by a tiny droplet of cold water. I scarcely dared hope, barely breathed, as I opened one eye so slowly, and looked up through my hair at my savior. The thundercloud was huge, filling most of the sky above me, blocking out the killing, rising sun and drenching me with cold, soothing rain. I think I was laughing as I strained once more at the chains, feeling something akin to strength flooding once more as I let the Change take me and the inhuman power of my mother's clan filled me. I pulled at the stakes which held me until they gave way and climbed to my feet to face the young man who now approached me with a wooden stake in hand.

  “I will not harm you, little one,” I said through my protruding fangs. “Go and tell them I am gone.”

  “I can't do that, demon,” He spat back, swinging his stake in my direction.

  “I was afraid of that.” I hit him with the chains that still dangled from my wrists, knocking him to his knees. I was on him faster than he could even see, pinning him to the ground beneath me while I searched him for the keys which would free me from the hanging weight of the shackles. It took me a minute to find them, and by the time I did I was beginning to feel the adrenaline fade. I would have to find food soon. I thought briefly about feeding on my prisoner, but decided not to further fuel the fire which had killed Joshua. Instead, I merely chained him to a nearby tree, knowing the others would return soon enough. Indeed, I could already hear the approaching carriages coming to the turn of the drive.

  I wasted no more time, simply grabbed the young man's cloak and dashed off into the woods. Thunder shook the ground and lightning streaked the sky. I ran for hours on feet burned and bloodied in the twilight of the storm. I gave no thought to direction or time or distance. I raced to put space between me and my imagined pursuit. Somewhere about an hour before sunset, the cloud cover broke and the sun began to shine through. I found an old, felled tree covered in moss and leaves and slipped beneath it, covering myself completely with the stolen cloak and leaves.