Infinitas 1 - Warriors of Faith

by Andrea Wölk

  »Okay, sorry! Today hasn’t been the greatest day, and if this is the first of more to come, I don’t want to know what the rest will be like.« He tried to calm himself down and leaned against the wall. Alert, he watched Shia carefully lay out his weapons on the dinner table.

  »Whose house is this?« Channing asked, trying again to get some answers.

  »Sara’s.«

  This name meant absolutely nothing to Channing. »Is that the woman in the picture?« He looked over at the piano.

  »Yeah, that’s Sara.«

  »Is she ... is she my wife?«

  Shia shook his head. »No, she’s my sister and the woman you swapped your apartment with in Paris for two months.«

  Now the name S. Keane made some sense.

  Shia had sat down at the dinner table and was meticulously cleaning his swords.

  »I can’t remember doing that at all.«

  Shia shook his head. »You can’t remember anything at all.«

  »How do you know?«

  »Because I deleted your memory.« He said without emotion, as if he didn’t care one bit.

  »It was you? You’re the one responsible for all of this?« said Channing. He was beside himself with anger and moved towards Shia with his fists clenched.

  »Careful, my friend,« he said as he pointed the end of his sword at Channing’s chest. »Watch what you say. You should be happy. Without me you’d be rotting right now in a dark, wet grave. So take it easy.«

  But Channing’s anger hadn’t yet subsided. His blood was boiling and his heart was beginning to beat irregularly. His fangs emerged and a powerful hiss came out of his throat, his sharp teeth flashing dangerously in his mouth.

  He took a huge leap forward, but in the same second and too fast to be seen by the naked eye, Shia jumped up from the table where he’d just been sitting, pushed Channing back against the wall and, only inches away from his face, showed him his own powerful set of fangs. A deep growl came forth from his chest and droned dangerously in the room. He pressed Channing’s chin into the wall with his elbow. »If you want answers, then keep your cool!«

  Channing remained still, totally vexed by Shia’s power and agility. The wall had given in slightly from the force of impact, leaving a deep dent at head level. When Shia felt Channing’s pulse returning to normal, he let go of him and sat back down at the table to clean his weapons – as if nothing had happened.

  »What are you?« stammered Channing quietly after a couple of seconds of confusion.

  »You mean, what are we, don’t you? … Well, in Greece they call us Lamien, in China Chiang-Shih, and in Ghana they would call us Asanbosam, but here people just call us vampires...«

  Unhappy

  Chapter 4

  The days were getting shorter as twilight set in early. It had started to rain again, but by dusk, the rain had begun to change to snow. It was freezing cold. Snow covered everything in what looked like a coating of powdered sugar and left a glow, making the world appear much lighter than usual.

  Sara was standing at her window looking out at the falling snow, soaking in the winter scenery. The weather wasn’t any better here than it was in Seattle, but she hadn’t come to Paris because of the weather.

  She was beginning to have some doubts about whether this impulsive trip made any sense at all. What was she doing here anyway? She had run away from a life that had been so predetermined; something, which had become so clear to her over the last few days. She hadn’t heard anything from Shia, but she had the feeling that everything was fine. He was her twin, so there was a particular connection that couldn’t really be explained. Whenever something was up with one of them, the other one could feel it. Whether happiness or pain, it didn’t matter.

  But a deeper commitment, or vow of faith, between two vampires wasn’t normally possible with siblings – this was something reserved for soulmates.

  This connection was only possible between warriors who promised to stay together forever, this promise then sealed with their own blood, but this wasn’t possible with blood relatives. No, there was a deep relationship between them, but only due to the fact that they shared the same blood and that they were twins.

  Sara had left Shia behind. She had fled from all of the problems standing in her way. She was tired of having to always fight against others, especially those who were constantly becoming stronger. Ever since she was a little girl, Sara had felt responsible for her brother. He was careless, impulsive and dangerous – a warrior in the service of humanity who had no idea what he was doing. And although he hadn’t chosen it, he had taken on the role completely. Like his tattoo said: honoris causa – for the sake of honor!

  Those were the words, which had appeared on his body after he had become a vampire, from his chest, across his shoulders and down his back. He had just turned twenty when, on the darkest of nights, he’d been transformed. Sara had found him in the woods on a path, bleeding heavily from the neck and had carried him through the dark night all by herself into the house and had hidden him there from the rest of the world.

  At that time such incidences had been occurring regularly and most of the people attacked hadn’t survived. But Shia had recovered and lived on in secrecy many years – a shadowy existence of about one hundred and twenty years, before he met other warriors who then educated him about his true calling, as a warrior of faith!

  Sara turned away from the window and walked slowly through the apartment. She liked it here. Channing McArthur must be a very educated, straightforward person – an aesthete with a special appreciation for art and beauty, who worked in a museum in Paris. He’d gone to Seattle for a few months to research new exhibition material. She guessed he was about fifty, maybe even a little older.

  The apartment was austerely decorated, yet classy, showing off the artistic taste of the occupant. The high plaster walls were full of paintings, some original and which could probably only be seen in museums. Sara stopped in front of a Dalí. It was a careful reproduction – the original hanging in the Museum of Modern Art in New York. ›The Persistence of Memory – La persistencia de la memoria‹. Yes, that was something, which only a vampire could truly feel.

  For Sara, this surreal painting was the essence of the dissolution of time and the four melting pocket watches were a symbol of her life. Everything was an endless eternity, standing still already now for hundreds of years. Just for a moment, she thought she might be able to get away from this feeling here in Paris, but she knew now that she was wrong. She was even lonelier and more adrift than before.

  She’d had her cell phone in her hand a couple of times already to call Shia, but each time she’d hung up before the call went through. She didn’t want to give him the gratification that he’d been right all along that she would miss the warriors. She’d carefully kept her feelings hidden from him, keeping them to herself. She was disappointed. Maybe she should just bite the bullet and fly back home.

  Fighting with her inner self, she put on the kettle for tea. Maybe it would help her nerves.

  Just as she was about to take her first sip, she heard a light knocking. She had no idea who could possibly be coming by so late, so she cautiously opened the door.

  »I missed you, Sara.« She was startled.

  »Philippe ... how did you find me here?«

  A wide grin appeared on his face and his eyes lit up conspiringly.

  »Well, I asked around and Paris is only a village really – maybe a little bigger.«

  He glanced over her shoulder into the apartment. Sara watched him shyly.

  »Would you like to come in?«

  »Um, if you’re not alone or if I’ve come at a bad time, I can come back later.«

  »No, that’s ok. Come in.« She opened the door a little more in order to let him in. He had a nylon tube fastened onto his back like a backpack. He entered the living room hesitantly, scanning the wall full of pictures.

  »Wow, not a bad swap.« He slowly looked around. »Looks like your Dr. McArthur ha
s money, don’t you think?« And when he saw Sara’s quizzical look, he added, »I saw his name downstairs on the door bell.« Sara didn’t feel comfortable in this situation and was standing aloof at the window.

  »May I ask you why you’ve come?«

  »Oh, of course, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, but I’d tried waiting for you in the rain and you never showed up, so I thought maybe you had left Paris.« He took the tube off his back and opened it.

  »I don’t want you to leave without taking this.« He handed her a rolled up piece of linen and smiled. He looked pretty sexy the way he was looking down at her.

  Hesitantly, Sara unrolled the drawing and looked down at her own face. It was a perfect likeness in charcoal. »Oh Philippe, it’s great!«

  Sara’s face was partly shadowed and her eyes, somewhat sad, were looking off somewhere unknown to the observer. Her curls fell along her soft face like fine, translucent lace.

  »I drew it for you – you can keep it.« Sara shook her head. »No, Philippe, I can’t accept this.«

  He waved his hand in the air. »Take it – it’s not a problem. I have a copy.« When he smiled he looked so endearing, like a little boy.

  »I’m having some tea. Would you like a cup?« Sara walked into the kitchen and Philippe followed her.» No, thank you. I’d rather have this.« He stepped up behind her and lifted her hair to kiss her delicate neck. She closed her eyes and paused a moment. It was a comfortable feeling, not at all threatening.

  »What do you think?« murmured Philippe softly into her ear, turning her slowly around to face him. He lifted her chin towards him slightly and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

  »Or would you prefer this?«

  A little smile appeared on Sara’s face. »You Frenchmen know exactly what to do to seduce a woman, don’t you?« She slipped out of his grasp and pressed the full cup of tea into his hands. In a sulky pout he lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. »And you Americans know exactly how to bring a man down.«

  Smiling, he walked over into the living room. »You’re seeing someone, aren’t you? How could I have been such an idiot? A woman like you....« He sat down on the white sofa near the window.

  Sara shook her head. »No, actually four!« Philippe looked up at her surprised.

  »You are seeing four guys at the same time?« He whistled through his teeth astonished. »No, that’s not completely true. There are four warriors, whom I can proudly call my friends.« »I asked if you were seeing anyone – if you have a boyfriend.« »You want to know if I’ve committed myself in blood? No, that’s not something to be taken lightly.«

  Philippe found Sara’s response odd. »Well, it doesn’t have to be sealed in blood – just a simple relationship would due, wouldn’t it? I guess that means you aren’t taken then?«

  Sara turned around and looked out the window. She couldn’t really see the darkness outside though, only her own reflection in the glass. »Philippe, it’s impossible. I know there is someone out there, even if I don’t know his name yet. I’m going back to Seattle tomorrow. I have to get back home.«

  She heard him put his cup down on the table and stand up from the sofa. »Please, go now«. She tried to remove him with her thoughts, to just leave her alone, but she felt him come up behind her without moving to touch her. For a moment he said nothing at all, but only looked at her reflection in the window, as if it were a mirror to her soul.

  »Maybe I’m the one you’re looking for. Can’t I try to convince you to stay in Paris? With me?« He gently stroked her arm, which she had tightly wrapped around herself.

  »Please, Sara, don’t go. I can feel something between us – something I can’t really put into words. It’s there. You must be able to feel it too!« Sara slowly turned around to face him.

  »No Philippe, it’s not possible, believe me. Things are not as they seem. I have to go back.« She tried to squeeze by him, but he held onto her hands.

  »That’s not true.« He pulled her closer to him and pressed his lips against hers, trying to convince her.

  »You belong to me. I felt that the first moment we met,« he said breathing heavily and pulling her closer to him.

  Sara’s sensuality made his entire body come alive. He kissed her even harder, edging his tongue deeper and exploring her enchanting raspberry lips. His hands moved down her body and unintentionally brushed against her breasts. Sara took a deep breath and he took this as a signal to continue. He let his tongue travel down her delicate neck to her collarbone and bit playfully into her tender skin.

  »You are everything I’ve ever dreamed of,« he murmured faintly, pulling her closer, his body pressed hard against hers.

  Sara stood there transfixed, as if in a trance and let herself give in to Philippe, as if her body no longer belonged to her. But as his hands and his body pushed closer to hers, she shook her head. »No, Philippe, please ... I can’t!« she exclaimed pressing her teeth together. »Let me go. It doesn’t make any sense.«

  Philippe registered Sara’s words as if they were coming at him through heavy fog.

  »Philippe, this isn’t what I want.« A loud hiss of protest emerged from her throat and with a strong shove, she freed herself from his grip. Philippe fell backwards onto the sofa, bewildered by the power coming out of this petite woman. He looked her in the eyes, which were no longer green, but radiating silver. They were glowing like jewels on fire, her mouth contorted, and two large fangs were visible between her lips. They had appeared only for a second, but he had seen them, he was almost certain.

  »Sara! What’s wrong with you?« »Nothing! Go now, please. I want to be alone.« She turned around quickly and walked towards the door to open it, trying not to expose her face.

  »Sara, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pressure you.« He walked towards her slowly. Breathing heavily, she turned away from the door to face him. She tried with all her power to get her blood pressure back down and her eyes and teeth back to normal so that she’d look like a regular person again.

  With his head down, Philippe edged around Sara towards the door.

  »I’ve totally ruined everything, haven’t I?« He looked into her eyes cautiously, not knowing what to expect, and when he saw that they were sea green again, he was sure that his mind had been playing tricks on him. Sara was too unsettled to respond.

  »Will we see each other again before you fly back to the States?« There was a hopeful ring to his voice. Sara strained to raise her head.

  »I don’t think so. Thank you for the drawing. I’m sorry that I can’t return your feelings, but believe me, it’s better this way.« She softly ran her finger along his cheek. Philippe took her hand, drew it to his lips and kissed it. »We’ll see each other again.« It was a promise, which Sara hoped he would never keep.

  Warriors of Faith

  Chapter 5

  Maroush was practicing Shõmen-uchi with his Shinai.

  The powerful blow to the forehead of an imaginary enemy was accompanied by a loud shout.

  »Men!« echoed through the large gym in the basement of the house. It was followed by a Jôgeburi, a blow to the knees, and then another loud cry. Then he bowed in the direction of an invisible enemy and removed his helmet. He tucked his Shinai, a carbon sword for practice, under his arm and walked over to the little group waiting for him at the entrance. He greeted Shia with a nod and curiously looked over at the visitor.

  Although Shia was at least a head taller than Maroush, he looked extremely intimidating in his Kendo gear, and Channing examined him closely.

  Maroush took his Tenugui, the dark blue cotton towel he’d been using, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

  »This is Maroush. He’s from Morocco and is our best Kendo fighter. He has mastered the ten Dan, which are no longer practiced today. He’s so old that he was able to reach this level.«

  Shia patted him on the back. »As-salãmu ‘alaikum!« said Maroush politely. »Wa ‘alaikumu s-salãm!« responded Channing kindly.

  »Channing is one of u
s. Sara pretty much led him to us, but I’ll explain that to you both later.« Maroush studied him intensively with his dark brown eyes and then nodded in approval.

  »Welcome, Channing.«

  His voice was quiet and pleasantly deep, just the opposite of his outward appearance.

  The warrior had his long, dark, curly hair tied together in a ponytail at the base of his neck. Although the protective clothing hid most of his body, it was clear that he was a vampire as well. He had a powerful build, a strong presence, perfect white teeth, which could turn into the fangs of a predatory animal within seconds, and not to be ignored, his deathly aura, all of which alluded to his true nature.

  »I’m going to take a shower. Let’s talk later in the meeting room.« Maroush held up his fist in greeting towards Shia, who in turn greeted back with his fist.

  »Okay Maroush, see you later.« He turned towards Channing.

  »Come with me. I want to show you the firing range and our meeting room, where we’ll meet the others later.« »You mean there are more vampires in this house?« asked Channing in disbelief.

  Shia smiled. »You make it sound like we’re lepers.« Channing breathed in and brushed off the comment. »So, what do you think I should make of all this? We’re talking about myths and legends, things that people make up, like in movies and books – nothing more.« »Whatever.« Shia sneered at him. »Those teeth in your mouth feel real, don’t they? Seems like that myth in those books of yours could really be happening.« Channing grabbed Shia’s shoulder. »Shia, all this is so unbelievable to me. I need some answers to my questions fast and you seem to be the only one who can help. What happened to me?« Shia paused a moment in thought and then nodded.

  »Okay, come on. Let’s go up to your room and I’ll try to answer your questions.«

  Channing sat down on the windowsill, his eyes glued on Shia, who was leaning against the wall, as Shia began to explain. »Sara gave me the job to pick you up at the airport. Your flight came in early and you took a taxi instead. That was the taxi you were in, when you had the accident.«