Embraced by the Shadows

by Mayra Calvani

  But when she tried to bite his lips he suddenly and unceremoniously tilted her head roughly to the right and sank his full teeth into her neck, into the swelling artery. She gasped, feeling his body shuddering against her as if he had been hit by an intense spasm of pain. She struggled with her arms and with her legs, but only for a moment. Her eyes closed as he clasped one arm around her waist and the other across her breasts, lifting her off the floor so he could have a better access to her neck.

  Sublime ... the ripples coursing through her veins. Her soul floating, sinking, drifting as he drank and drank in a perfectly greedy, ravenous way, as if he couldn't restrain anymore and was finally free to devour something he had hungered, needed for ages.

  She was a ragged doll in his embrace, her arms and legs hanging limply above the floor. Only now and then a deep moan escaped her throat. And in the mist of this delirium she faintly heard the shrilling melody of the insects and the coquies, she vaguely realized she was moving ... Sadash was slowly moving round the roof with her in arms, his fangs never for a second leaving her pulsing artery, never for a second halting the blood draught, mouthful after mouthful after mouthful after mouthful...

  It was a long moment later he pulled away from her. She would have collapsed onto the floor had he released her. But he helped her into a sitting position against the wall. Then he stood up and looked down at her.

  "You're dying,” he said.

  His voice rang weakly in her ears. But she was keenly aware of her own slow breathing, of the irregular rise and fall of her breasts. Her head somewhat lowered, she lifted her eyes to stare at him from under the fringe of her dark lashes. Her hair flowed wild about her.

  He hissed, fully exposing his fangs, his eyes luminous like crystals. His mouth was covered with blood, dark ruby trails streaming down its corners. He ran one lazy tongue around his mouth to lap at the blood there, his gesture languorously feline, a big cat grooming himself after the luscious satiation of a kill.

  "Do you enjoy dying, my sweet little Alana?” he drawled.

  She narrowed her eyes to see him clearer.

  "TUM ... TUM ... TUM ... Do you feel your heart slowing?” he said softly, mockingly. “Do you want to die?"

  Something resembling a desirous grunt came out of her mouth.

  He laughed. Then he slipped the T-shirt over his head and lay down on the cold stone floor beside her, his hair spread around his head like a pool of black ink.

  "No more jokes. Come, my beautiful one,” he said, sober now, reaching for her arm and pulling her down to him so that she still sat on the floor but her torso was partially thrown across his chest.

  And right before her eyes he brought an index finger to his chest and perforated the flesh and carved a diagonal gash across his pulsing heart. Blood sputtered and flowed, and Sadash clasped the back of her head and drew her to the wound, like a person pressing a kitten's mouth into a bowl of milk to compel it to drink.

  The drinking of the blood ... liquid fire, liquid life ... How to describe it, except to say that Alana the human disintegrated and was transformed into the embodiment of ecstasy itself. An ecstasy that went on and on as long as she kept her clasp on the wound, as long as she swallowed this liquid that was her life as well as her death, her heaven as well as her hell.

  She moved above him to straddle his waist with her legs, her mouth never leaving his wound, her arms fiercely wrapped around his chest. And lifting her eyes as she drank she saw that Sadash was grimacing, his face contorted into an expression that could have been rapture as well as agony. He turned his head slightly to the side to look at her and for a second their eyes met. His breathing was heavy, thunderous. Rise and fall, rise and fall.... She was rising and falling with the rising and falling of his lungs. Drinking with the rise and fall...

  Sadash grunted, pushing her roughly to the side, but she still tried to hold on to him, her eyes glazed with the dark hunger.

  "Aman Allah.... What are you trying to do, kill me?” he breathed, straightening up into a sitting position.

  "Please...” But she was too weak to rise up to him. She rolled over on the floor and stared face up at the sky. So dark and immense it seemed now, the stars glinting, the whole sky so close above her eyes, summoning her, beckoning her...

  She felt him beside her, she felt his fingers lovingly caressing her cheek.

  "I'll be here, my lover, my daughter.... when you wake up,” he whispered.

  And then she died.

  * * * *

  Sitting Indian-style beside her, he gazed expectantly at her, waiting for the sudden fluttering of the eyelids, the subtle tremor of the chest.

  He had never made any other child of darkness out of such love.

  And she was so incredibly beautiful ... Now more than ever.

  Finally killing her, to have that privilege ... drinking that priceless spark of life out of her ... beyond his wildest dreams ... And her blood ... the magnificent taste of innocence itself together with her great love for her ... Shattering, simply shattering...

  A wave of melancholy swept over him, for never again would he see his mortal Alana, never again would he feel her human vulnerability and softness. And as much as he desired her as his eternal companion, he would always remember with painful longing the purity and sweetness of her pale soft arms wrapped around his waist.

  For a moment he closed his eyes. When he opened them again he noticed her eyes were moving under her closed lids.

  "Alana...” he said.

  Her eyes snapped open, brilliant black, flaming with a new inward fire that had never dwelled in her pupils before.

  She smiled weakly at him. “I remember everything now.... Our past.... All is clear,” she whispered.

  "I know."

  "I'm hungry."

  He rose and extended a hand towards her. “Yes, my beautiful one. You're hungry ... and the city awaits."

  CHAPTER 9

  The power of her new vision stunned her.

  It was as if all along she had been looking at the world through a veil of mist, and all of a sudden the veil had been removed and everything sprang into crystalline focus.

  They drove back to the city and walked the streets around the docks. Alana could sort out a hundred separate scents upon the air and hear conversations that were taking place in bars far away from her and see flashes of a person's past as she glimpsed his or her face in the street. It was too much to take, too confusing and overwhelming, but Sadash told her she would soon learn to handle it. Her mind would gradually learn to take in what it wanted and discard what it didn't. Right now all these images, all these flashes of information were gushing into her brain without restraint, without any meaning whatsoever.

  And the hunger...

  Nothing like she could have ever imagined. Thirst and hunger as if she had been walking in the desert for a month, sensual hunger as if she had been lusting after someone for ages ... Blinding thirst and food hunger and sensual hunger, all in one. Only more, much more ... The bloodlust.

  The musky, metallic reek of blood was everywhere.

  In a dark and desolated street Sadash chose Alana's first meal, a sinister-looking individual with drug-dealing and murder in his past. As the man was hastening down the street, Sadash grabbed him by the collar and flung him against the wall, commanding him to surrender with the intense glimmer of his yellow eyes. The man's eyes became glazed, his body limp as Sadash turned his head to the side to expose the pulsing artery.

  "Take him,” he told Alana, who had watched the whole thing with horror in her eyes.

  Nervously moistening her lips, she fixed her eyes on the man's neck, on that little swelling spot.

  "I don't ... Do I have to kill him?” she mumbled, the tips of her fangs scraping the softness of her lower lip.

  "He deserves it, but you can take him half, if you want. That is, if you have the will to stop yourself before his heart does."

  Sadash had been right. This was an act of love. Hardly aware of h
er sudden feral arousal, of the sudden lengthening of her canines, she wrapped her arms around the man's neck and, breathing in all of his human stinking sweat, took him by the artery, her teeth crushing through flesh and muscle. A gush of blood spurted into her mouth and for a second it seemed too much blood to take, too forceful the flow to keep up with it, to be even able to breathe. But oh, the taste of it!.... To kill in love. Yes, yes, yes, to kill in love! Nothing compare to this, nothing could ever compare to this love.. consume him, yes, yes, drink until the heart stops, till it's drained ... A haunting melody, a holy song, a mouthful for each continuous beat of his heart, like steady Indian drums in the center of a dark forest, thudding heavily in her ears. But don't go, please no, don't go, I love you.... I love you so much!

  The man was dead.

  Horrified by what she had done, she tossed the dead body onto the ground and stepped back from it as if she had been burned.

  When she looked at Sadash, he was laughing.

  "You're ... you're a monster!” she breathed, her mind blazing like the sun from the feast.

  "Maybe. But I'm a realistic monster. I don't pretend to be what I'm not, and if you want to survive as long as I have, you'll do the same,” he said, taking her by the arm and hastening down the dark street.

  "I killed him.... Dear God, I killed him...” she whispered to herself, unconsciously licking any trace of blood from her lips. “I didn't have to kill him, but I killed him, I killed him!"

  A few minutes later, in the Porsche, Sadash waited to start the car until Alana became calmer.

  She was still shaking and muttering things to herself. The only thing in her mind was that dead body, its smell and its inertia and its heaviness, the brutal way in which she had feasted on it and then tossed it onto the ground like a disposable piece of garbage. She began sobbing.

  Sadash drew her to him and held her in his arms. “Don't be so hard on yourself. It's like this in the beginning. It took me a long time to control my hunger, to control my desire. It happens to all of us. I know. It feels like something you could never be able to learn. But you will learn it. Believe me. And you have me. I'll always be here for you. Now try to put that behind you and concentrate on your new powers. He's not worth one drop of your tears. You've done society a favor."

  "Don't talk about cleaning up society, please. Or about goodness."

  ...tossed onto the ground like a disposable piece of garbage...

  Alana pulled away from him. As much as she loved him, she was suddenly oddly repulsed by him. She calmed herself a bit, wiping off the tears with her fingers, but when she looked at her hands she screamed.

  Her fingers were covered with blood.

  "Shhhh.... Easy, easy.... It's only your tears. I should have told you before—we cry blood. A very good reason not to cry in public. Come here,” he said calmly, once again pulling her towards him. She tried to push him away but he only laughed. When he had her as he wanted her, with her face very close to his, he began to lick her blood tears, his tongue moving ever so languorously in and out of his mouth across her closed lids, her cheeks, her chin, the line of her jaw.

  "Unthinkable ... to ... waste ... them...” he whispered as he slowly ran his tongue across her lips.

  For a second she completely forgot about the dead body.

  "Sadash...” she groaned, clasping him around the waist and turning her head to offer her neck to him.

  He kissed her neck, laughing softly to himself.

  "What's so funny?” she said, suddenly pushing him away.

  "You. How you can switch from one mood to another like this. It's delicious, simply delicious, your passion. Give me your hands,” he said. And in the same lazy manner he licked her fingers clean, his eyes moving up only now and then to meet hers. “There. Finished."

  "Everything is so simple for you. Everything is feeling,” she said, reproach evident in her voice.

  "Yes, we're slaves of feeling ... much more than any human could ever be."

  There was a silence.

  "You would love it, wouldn't you, if I were a merciless killer?” she said.

  He seemed surprised. “How far from the truth. Somehow I knew you'd always keep your humanity. Maybe that's what drew me to you in the first place. You're strong and yet gentle. But you better be careful of this gentleness ... it might end up being your downfall."

  "How?"

  "I already explained to you about suicide and about the wish for self destruction. Guilt can lead you to it. And loneliness. Think about a lack of strength to keep up with the times, to keep up with the different generations and with the death of your loved ones. Think about it. Loving humans and watching them age and die, then doing the same thing again and again in front of your eyes. Yes, Alana. Immortality is terrifying."

  "But vampires ... don't they have covens? Don't they stay together?"

  "Look at me. I'm a loner. And so are the majority of vampires. The truth is, except for Makers and their Fledglings, who share an unexplainable bond of unconditional loyalty and love, many vampires live to hate their own kind. It's strange, but that's how it is. On the other hand, vampires love mortals, which is even worse. Think of the horror. Loving mortals, then feeding on them, killing them.

  "This contradiction is enough to drive any vampire mad, believe me. The odd thing is, instead of keeping their emotional distance, vampires many times take a special fascination or fancy to a mortal. They follow the mortal, they even get to know the mortal, then they kill the mortal. Sadomasochistic. Even if they don't kill them, it's still sadomasochistic, because they'll have to watch them grow old and die. Yes, Alana. They hate their own kind and they can't get close to humans except to feed on them, so the only thing left for them is themselves and their loneliness."

  For a moment Alana stared despondently at her hands. To watch her loved ones grow old and die.... To watch her beautiful Valeria grow old and die ... Unthinkable.

  "No, don't even think about it,” he warned her.

  "Can you still hear my thoughts?” Alana said, surprised.

  He shook his head. “No. Unfortunately for me and fortunately for you. Unless you wish me to hear them, of course. Otherwise, you're a blank wall."

  Alana smiled, feeling better already. “But how did you know...?"

  "Give me a little credit, will you? I've known you for twelve years. I know how your mind works. And I know how much you love her."

  After a thoughtful pause, she said, “But why not? Why not, if I want to, make her like me?"

  "No, Alana. In time you'll make your own Fledglings, but only after you've come to understand the immensity of what you are. It would be wrong to do otherwise. It would be wrong for you as well as for her. And remember you can't turn everybody you grow to love into a vampire . You must come to accept their humanity and their vulnerabilities and their deaths.” Then he added, throwing her a sardonic look, “Don't worry, that's why I'm here. To guide you and make sure you don't commit any atrocities."

  Alana took a deep breath, her eyes downcast and somber. Of course, it made sense. But still...

  "I mean it,” he said.

  She looked at him with piercing eyes. Then, telepathically, she told him, Okay, okay!

  Good.

  Can we always communicate like this?

  If you wish. But I prefer to talk. It keeps me closer to humanity.

  Humanity? My God ... What kind of a creature are you? I don't know if you're an angel or a devil.

  Remember what you told me. The Devil is also an angel.

  Was.

  In spite of her sore mood, Alana laughed. “This is so incredible."

  "You'll soon get used to it. Remember you're only a newborn."

  "Can I, if I want to, read people's thoughts as easily as I just read yours?"

  "Not in the beginning. It depends on the strength of the person's will, on his ability to hide his thoughts, or on his state of mind. It even depends on your own state of mind. You'll find it almost impossible to sc
an minds if you're under heavy pressure or excitement. On the other hand, even without your wanting to, you'll be able to see vivid images popping out of people's minds. There aren't strict rules. It's unpredictable. You'll have to train your mind. Right now, until you gradually learn to control it, the best thing to do is to shut off all these images and voices you're receiving. Otherwise you'll go crazy."

  She stared at him. A vampire with a dimple on the cheek and a Spiderman T-shirt and a Porsche. For a moment she closed her eyes. What a surrealistic nightmare! But it was real, so real.

  "Well ... Are you satisfied?” he asked.

  She stiffened. “Why do you ask?"

  "Maybe you should feed again ... before we go to sleep."

  "No, I don't want to,” she quietly said.

  Sadash shrugged, turning on the ignition. “As you wish."

  "What about you?"

  He seemed disgusted by the idea. “Are you crazy? Would you eat a soggy hamburger and grease-soaked fries after having had the most exquisite gourmet meal?"

  * * * *

  Twenty-five minutes later they arrived at his house. The first thing Alana noticed were the trees—huge trees with massive crowns of dark lush leaves. Then the wind blew and rustled the leaves and Alana caught a glimpse of the house. White, two-stories high, the little balconies on the second floor reminding her of Spain. The wide front yard kept it private and considerably apart from the street. A sleek black Firebird was parked in the driveway.

  "You have a Firebird, too? That's my favorite car,” she said, getting out of the Porsche.

  "That's your car,” he said.

  Her eyes widened. She felt a rush of happiness, but she couldn't help thinking, Already trying to appease his conscience...

  She smiled. “It's gorgeous. It looks like a coffin on wheels."

  "Lord, how morbid you are!” Sadash said, leading her by the hand to the entrance of the house, the wind tousling his hair. “Sorry, but your first test drive will have to be tonight. We don't have much time now."

  Clasping his hand, she looked up at the velvet sky. Soon it would be sunrise. But she would not see it. She would never see the light of the sun again, but the thought didn't bother her. She remembered how, only hours ago, she had stood on her balcony admiring the sunset. How she had been strangely affected by the beauty of the sun dipping low into the horizon, just as if she had known it would be her last.