Forever

by Natalie J. Case

  Chapter 23

  The night was nearly over, I could sense daylight hanging just behind the nearest peak. I ran without thinking, without caring where I was going, as long as it was away from myself. In a shallow cave barely able to contain me I spent the day, shivering in cold and fear and hunger. It was worse for having tasted of her, for knowing all that she was. Only the image of the Hunter, Daniel was what Dovan had called him, had spared Joy. The sight of him had jarred me enough to cool the hunger a little, startled me into remembering myself.

  The day passed, and the next night followed. Still, I remained in the cave, unmoving, unresponsive. I was lost somewhere inside myself, buried deeply in my own dark soul. I longed for the cool, soothing presence of Moira … or the damning, seething presence of Jesse … anything but this solitary battle I was enduring. Everything within me wanted to return to that cabin, claim what had been offered up to me, bring that soul of beauty and light to my bosom forever.

  As I drifted in and out of sleep I dreamed of Francis, searching the night frantically for me. Joy wouldn't tell her what had happened, only that I had gone away, and would return when I was ready. I wished I could tell her the truth, that I had told her the truth about me, about herself. It had been too ugly a topic for our artificial Eden, and I had avoided the confirmation of her visions.

  Three nights after I left them, I managed to leave the cave, hunting viciously, but barely feeding. The deer and other wildlife of the area simply did not appeal to me. I worked my way down the mountain, taking enough food to survive, but leaving the hunger burning deep inside of me. It would have to be appeased, but for the moment I reveled in it. I closed my mind to rational thought, becoming very much like the animals I hunted, very much like the creature Crenoral had once been. I lost myself in it, distancing myself from the poised, elegant woman I had often claimed to be. I reverted to the person I was when Crenoral first took me out into the night.

  When I reached the base of the mountain, who knows how many days or weeks later, I haunted the populated areas, the hunger in me raging, craving. I prowled the night around the village, hanging just out of sight, passing unheard on the streets. I did not feed, but I could have. I could have had that whole village. I listened, I watched. The world had become a different place in those years, modern advances had begun to change even the lives of that remote town. I was a stranger looking in on a society I had once known, overrun by progress, left behind for dead. That thought made me smile, for surely I was as close to dead as any living creature could come.

  The telegraph machines I had known had been replaced by a new wonder that sent words and voice over miles and miles, emulating the ability my brethren shared. The town actually had two of them, one in the general store and one in the home of the town's richest socialite. If I stood still outside that house, I could almost hear the voices screaming silently through the air around me.

  The library was filled with books that discussed religion and philosophy, and things like evolution. I found treatises on witchcraft and vampirism, most of which was mere superstition and conjecture. I heard tales of vast modern plagues that had swept the countryside and decimated whole towns. I read accounts of experiments with the sick and dying, or the dead. Medical science had made great strides into understanding the human body, but not the human soul. There was considerable conversation in the newspapers and in the homes of townsfolk regarding the ability of science to create life outside of a mother's womb.

  I drank it in, all of it, as if it were blood to warm me. I absorbed the new views and arguments, filled myself with knowledge. All the while I fed on animals in the forest, enough to survive at least. I hovered just outside of the awareness of that town, feeding my lust for knowledge, my love of words. Slowly I was returning to myself, recovering from the wounds of my own actions. The demon within was withdrawing.

  Eventually, I knew I would have to return, to face what I had done, what I had become. That didn't make it easier to do. When at last I was ready, I began the long journey with no more than I had left them with. Clad simply in a black dress stolen from a clothesline I went. The night air was chill with the approach of winter. The wild flowers were dying. The abundant animal life of those mountains was sparse, and those to be found were wily, harder to catch than their milder relatives.

  I found my way back there as if I had only left that cabin days before. I stood in the moonlight looking at it for a long, long time. No lights lit the windows, no sound stirred the breeze. There was no fire sending lazy smoke curling out of the chimney. There was only the silence of an empty place. They were gone. I let myself in, an easy thing since they had left the door unlocked. It looked as it did the night I left, quiet, peaceful. A home where children had been raised and life had been simple. A layer of dust covered the furnishings, telling me that their absence was not recent. On the table there was a piece of paper.

  “My dearest Mother.” It read, in Francis's handwriting. “We are leaving tonight, not knowing how long you will be gone. Joy and I must move on to the places we were meant to be. I know that you will understand this. I wish you were here for me to kiss goodbye, but my words will have to do. Should you wish to find us, you should begin your search in London, where we plan to begin our new lives. I have no doubts that you will be quite capable if you desire it. Until that day, remember that we both love you, beyond even your ability to comprehend. Good-bye, Francis.”

  I dropped the page to the table, scarcely fathoming the words. Gone, both of them, gone. I wandered through the house, half-expecting Prince or Princess to come charging around the corners, or bounding in through the back door. Only those things which had been personal to either of the girls were missing, everything else was exactly where it had been. I sat on Joy's bed numbly, trying to smell the essence she always carried with her. Even that was gone. As I rose from the bed, my eyes caught on the mirror of her vanity. A wraith in black stared back at me.

  My skin was so white as to be translucent, reflecting the light of the moon outside her window in the eeriest way. My body was so thin as to appear painful, though the only pain I felt was in my heart. Most astonishing was the gray covering the once raven tresses on my head. I moved toward the mirror slowly, as if I expected the vision to disappear. One hand trembled as I raised it to touch the surface. The hair was long, touching nearly to the floor, and matted with leaves and dirt, tangled in knots around itself. The dress I wore was torn in places, smudged with dirt. I looked like I had crawled out of my grave again.

  For a long time, I stood staring into that reflection. Then, in a moment of absolute clarity, I became myself again. The solitary, self-sufficient survivor re-emerged from within. I drew water from the well and heated it, filling a bath. I sank into the steamy waters, submerging myself and feeling the grime of my animal nature washing away. I toweled dry and wrapped myself in a robe. Sitting at Joy's vanity, I brushed out the long, long tresses, and cut them to shoulder length. The gray in them still amazed me, enough that I took a small bunch of it, tied it in a ribbon and tucked it in a drawer of remembrances I had kept throughout my life.

  That done, I turned to my lab. My equipment was whole, save for a few pieces broken by who knew what. I cleaned it, scrubbing at the dust and grime until it sparkled. Then I set about making formula. It took several tries to find the rhythm again, but it came back to me. When I had filled several bottles, I withdrew to my room. There I cleaned as well, shaking out the linens, dusting the cabinets and dresser. Then, as dawn approached, I slid into the comfort of my bed and fell instantly into sleep.

  It was, perhaps, the first time in those months that I had actually slept deeply. It was amazingly comforting, waking just before sunset to stretch and relax in the familiar surroundings. When I finally rose, several hours later, to drain the last of the formula I had made the night before, I began the cleaning of the rest of the house, returning it to the pristine order which Lu Sin had always demanded. I hunted, bringing back a rabbit to cook into ste
w. The garden had grown wild, but there were a few vegetables worth using. I dug up some carrots and radishes, found some beans that had not fallen from their bushes yet, even a few berries that had not yet rotted. It was the first meal I had eaten in months, and it was exquisite. I savored every bite, finishing off the entire stew and chasing it down with an entire bottle of formula.

  Two weeks after my arrival, I left the small house to journey up the mountain to visit Dovan. I knew that he would know where my children had gone, and though I was not yet ready to seek them out, I did desire to know their whereabouts and whether or not they were well. The mountain was strangely quiet, and cold. Winter was settling rapidly. I called out as I neared the cavern Dovan called home, listening for some sign that he was around. There was no answer. The cave was empty, all but the room where I had lain and healed. Dovan and Justine were gone. I was alone.

  On the bed in that cavern room was another note and a small leather bag. I hefted the bag and found it filled with gold coins and random bits of jewelry. With a breath, I lifted the note.

  “This should see you to London, when you are ready to go. I will keep an eye on them until then. Dovan.”

  I was stunned, standing dumbfounded in the cave entrance as dawn approached. They had left me. Then, I remembered that it had been myself who had left first. I couldn't expect them to wait for me. I couldn't expect my life to continue the way it had been. It had been the complacency of that life that had driven me over the edge. It had been the nearness of those that I loved which had tempted me to the vilest of acts. Now, they were all safely away from me. It was as it should be. I waited in the darkness for the day to end, then returned to my home.

  All told, the time spent in the solitude of the mountain after my Francis and Joy had left me, was miniscule compared to the rest of my life. I swiftly grew bored, and lonely. Although, I still was not ready to return myself to their lives, I hungered to know where they were, and what they had accomplished. So it was, in the early spring when snow still dotted the mountainside, I packed a small bag of equipment and clothing and set off down the mountain.

  In the village there, I procured a horse and without pause, left for London. It was there that my Francis had said they would go. It was there, then, that I would begin. The trip was largely uneventful, save for it being the first time I had truly passed through civilization since Francis's birth. I moved swiftly, stopping only when I encountered something unfamiliar, new. As I neared Paris, that became more and more frequent. The telephones that had been so new upon my last knowledge of man's advances were prevalent, filling the night air with the sounds of voices. Electric lights were ever so slowly taking the place of gas lamps and candles.

  It was a new world, filled with strange and frightening things. The closer I came to the great city, the more I feared my arrival there. I felt entirely backward and unprepared, an unfamiliar thing to be sure. I was accustomed to a certain confidence in myself, a knack for getting along in the world. Paris should have felt as comfortable to me as that mountain cabin I had so recently abandoned.

  To be truthful, it had been close to thirty years since I had last been in Paris, thirty years had never seemed so long a time. On my first night in Paris, I found my way to the law firm who had represented me in the past, and upon securing a room for myself at the nearest hotel, set about the waiting for daylight. Bundled tightly in the blackest of fabrics, I hired a coach and arrived at the front steps of the firm in the late afternoon of the next day.

  I presented myself there as my own daughter, as I had often enough in the past. A letter in my own hand gave me access to those things I had kept in their keeping, including the prestige of nobility, credit and all the privilege of my former station in life. It was an easy thing then to arrange for clothing and other necessities, while seeing to the matters of my trip. I explained to the young man who so resembled that other lawyer from years before, that my accommodations must be absolutely discreet, and without fear of prying eyes or stray bits of daylight. In this it was more difficult than it had been in the past, convincing a modern man of a mysterious affliction which precluded sunlight, but at the rates he would be paid, it was eventually done.

  I left him then and made straight for the hotel. Safely within the confines of my room, I set about my own preparations, drinking down a bottle and a half of formula while I awaited the arrival of my purchases and word of the travel arrangements. Nearly an hour passed before the first of the clothing arrived, along with some jewelry, and other accessories. I must admit to enjoying it rather much to don such finery after so long in rags and antiques. I fitted myself into a beautiful gown of purple and white, which the seamstress assured me was the utmost in fashion for the day. I swept up my gray and black hair beneath a matching hat, touched my pale, pale skin with a bit of cosmetic powder, darkening it ever so slightly, and set out to visit the city.

  I moved somewhere between invisible and detached that night, floating through the city of lights with eyes as big as a child's, exploring the wondrous, unfathomable delights gathered there. I found myself outside an opera house, listening in amazement at the glorious sounds emanating from within. Electric lights lit the billboard there, proclaiming for all to see what stars performed. I didn't know the names, but the voices were simply divine. I walked miles and miles in the darkness, long after the city had settled to its quietest, peering in at windows of shops and diners and boutiques. I heard the whispers of my own kind for the first time in years … vaguely, distant, but somehow comforting. I scanned them for signs of my children, but they were voices I didn't know. I pulled back into myself and contemplated the beauty of that night. The sky was filled with the brilliance of a million stars, the air was fresh and scented with life. I felt warm, sedate … at ease with myself. I wandered slowly back to my hotel, letting myself inside as dawn's first light broke the distant horizon.

  The next nights were much the same, as I acclimated myself to the world again. I found my way to the library, and spent many of those nights reading. So much had taken place in my absence from the world, so much just since my time in that small village where I had last read of the advances of mankind. In the land across the sea, where I had known and loved Joshua and Francis, scientific advances were being made, and great men were heralded for their achievements. A creation being called a horseless carriage was touted as the next step in travel. With a motor in place of horses, this wheeled wonder could travel at speeds of up to fifteen miles per hour. There were rumors of men trying to fly like birds. Radio transmitters were being used to broadcast music and news across great distances.

  My mind swam with it all; the amount of knowledge that had accumulated amazed me. On my fifth night in Paris, word came from my agent that he had booked my passage on a steamer bound for England. It would leave in three weeks. There was some apprehension as I gathered my new belongings and climbed into the rented carriage for the journey. I did not know what I might find in London, or if Francis and Joy remained there still. Even yet, if they resided happily there, what right had I to return to their lives? I, who had not long before nearly destroyed us all.

  I stayed fairly much to myself aboard that ship, secreted away in a room in the very bowels of the ship, sipping cautiously on formula that seemed all together flat and pale. Thankfully it was a short journey, one with very little to remark on. The sailors left me be and the captain himself knocked on my door in the early hours of the evening to let me know we had safely arrived.

  It had been so long since my last moments in London … so long and yet it was like no time had passed at all. The filthy streets seemed unchanged as I passed through them in my coach. The same taverns and hotels, the same cold air … only the faces on the people had changed. In my mind I imagined I saw them, my first children. She smiled at me in her sad way, and he tipped his hat as I passed. I shook off the feeling as we neared our destination, a town house I had owned for more than a century. It had been leased out over the years, and its last ten
ants had left it only months before. That money had been kept in a forgotten account, money that would certainly see me through the next years. My lawyer in Paris had arranged to have it cleaned and furnished for my arrival.

  I dismissed the gathered staff as soon as my luggage had been brought in from the street, explaining that I was far too exhausted from my trip for the proper introductions. Then, with the night still young and a chill settling into my bones, I unloaded my lab equipment myself, setting up in the dreary and damp basement. Once my physical needs had been met, I wrote out instructions for my new servants, explaining to them in sketchy details what I would require of them. It was enough, at first, to simply demand the privacy of a proper lady, and to state that I would nearly never be about in daylight. I hoped they would decide me eccentric, and leave me to it.

  Chapter 24

  I didn't sleep well that day, my mind filled with visions of past terrors, haunting me even after I rose for the evening. I was uneasy to say the least. The night air tasted of death. It roused me, wakening a fire within. When I closed my eyes I tasted Joy … saw her as she offered her neck. Flashes of Rebeka and the other child I had once spared mixed with it, and I repeatedly drank from my bottle, only to spit it out in distaste. I roamed the house, hearing each shallow breath of each of the people who slept within its walls. Their hearts beat softly against me, beckoning and repelling. Near to midnight I took to the streets, clad simply in black. I was breathless with anticipation of … something I couldn't name. I wanted.