Blood Life (33 page)

It was a passage under the heading “Vampire Death and Rebirth” which spoke of a fallen, newborn vampire and its ability to hover for centuries in a space between life and death, much like Nothingness. Once the vampire spirit is granted release from that space, it has one chance to join the undead in the mortal world, but it may not approach or be the one to break the silence with the vampire that it treasured most before its demise. That vampire must seek the fallen one out before it can come alive and be free from the constraints of the much-feared vampire death, which can be compared to the Christian Hell. Everlasting torture and damnation. The vampires called this place Limbo, a space between life and death, but closer to life. In Limbo, one can communicate with all other vampires, as long as the prisoner vampire does not come in direct contact with the one that must seek them. If it does, it will be returned to Limbo for eternity, never allowed the chance to return again.

“So she can’t go to him unless he first comes to her and breaks the curse?” Roman asked to be sure he understood the ancient text.

“Precisely,” Devendra answered. “I don’t think Lokee has ever seen this book and I don’t believe he knows she is trying to come back.” She paused to put the book aside. “I think Lorien pulled that stunt to affect you. To make you think about her hard enough that Lokee might pick up on the emotion and read it in your thoughts. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Yeah, if I concentrated on her figure and showed any more emotion, or if it were me who ran through it, Lokee would have probably sensed her in my space.”

“Exactly. He cannot read my mind, being his creator, but he can read yours fine if you’re not properly cloaked and able to hold it barred. If you were to let your guards down and a flash of Lorien’s face entered your mind, he would know she was around and undoubtedly try to make contact with her. Once he did that, she’d be allowed back into the vampire world and a whole new nightmare would begin, much stronger than the one we’re living now.” Devendra bobbed her head as she spoke.

Roman closed his eyes. “Well, I will clear her image from my mind.”

“Yes, do a thorough cleansing of your thoughts before we go, Roman. It will be very important. He must never know she is trying to come back. And if she visits Alethea, we will be finished. She is not strong enough to block Lokee from her mind.”

Forty Seven

Alethea was sure of her being impregnated by Lokee, filling every waking moment with despair. The motherly instincts within her were against the mere thought of aborting the likely terror. Yet, in her whole heart she knew that if she was to bear the child within her, Fate could be lost forever. There would be no correcting, no mending, only history and future. The mistakes could never be erased.

With such an incredible burden resting on her exhausted shoulders, Alethea was unsure as to any sort of outcome. This was something she needed a friend to listen to and give outside advice to. She was too confused to decide for herself what would be best. She needed her beloved Camilla whose wit and intelligence would save the day, as it always did, for Alethea’s crises. But it was too late for that. Camilla was out of her reach—quite possibly in death.

Never having felt so alone without her only friend, a friend she considered a sister, Alethea feared taking the wrong path, making a fatal decision, the inevitable dramatic consequences.

But forcing herself to take a step back from the anxiety, Alethea knew in her heart of hearts the correct decision was within her. Besides, at this most pressing moment of her life, there really was nobody to listen.

Aside from thoughts of the baby, Alethea was undergoing a tremendous heartbreak. Lokee was beginning to convince her that Roman chose Devendra and that they would not ever come for her. At first, she felt she knew better than to believe anything that came from Lokee, but in reality, it had been several weeks since he took Alethea captive, and she found it hard to swallow that two vampires with phenomenal skills, especially one of the Combined, were unable to track her.

The pain was there, though, the constant ache for Roman at her side again. He had supposedly waited for her so long and when he finds her he leaves? None of it made any sense! She was tired of the strain and too weak to be confused anymore. She figured she couldn’t grab onto him hard enough and for her own ignorance, she lost all she cared for in death.

She prayed for her baby; that she would make the right decision. She begged for Azrael to make the decision easy for her, to lead mother and baby to their demise. Take them away from the torment and let her finally find peace. For she could not live without her lover and she believed he was dead and gone forever. She could not imagine an eternity without him. She did not exist when he was not there and she had no ambition to live her immortality if she had nobody to live for anymore. And to think the baby was a new hope was wretched merely because of the source. She could never love that baby, not after what she went through for it to exist. Never!

“I love you, Roman,” she whispered through soft tears, “you have my heart and soul for all eternity.”

“A Victory without danger is a triumph without glory.”

–Pierre Corneille

Forty Eight

Lokee left her room with a deep sigh of satisfaction. Little did she care for his response to her false expression of love. She endured sex, willingly, with her worst enemy, because of her own needs. It was completely selfish on her part, but she cared not of his feelings. She wanted sex, nothing more, and nothing less. She received it from him and that was all it would ever be.

She wished that could have been the end of it, but self-repulsion started to settle in. Unable to believe what she had done, what she had allowed herself to take part in and enjoy, sickened her immensely. She would look into Lokee’s face and find herself repelled, and anger would consume her whole being. However, the act spoke for itself. She needed the release; she obliged for an instant, to let him take her. Somehow, she felt then she would lose the feeling of being stripped and violated of her dignity. She longed for pleasure as much as she starved for blood. Lokee had not offered her food; therefore she was forced to give in to the thrill, the only thing other than blood that could sustain her for at least a while.  

Why did it sound like she was continuously convincing herself? These were her constant thoughts—the sex, the pleasure of it, the justification, the horrid acceptance.

She was quite sure the incident fit into his devious plans well. After finally doing his bidding, she hoped for a gift of human life to suppress her hunger for the delicious taste of their blood. She burned for it as Lokee’s cat, Jezebel, tiptoed up to her door. She couldn’t dream of devouring the innocent creature; Jezebel was far too precious for such an unruly death. Alethea loved animals too dearly. She wondered, in thinking this, where that statement placed the value she held on human life. She would have to say, beyond any reasonable doubt, that she valued animal life much more; she refused to attack them under any circumstances. Humans, on the other hand, were an easy target. She cannot explain why, that was just how she felt.

Jezebel scratched anxiously at Alethea’s bedroom door. Slowly, she stood up and padded across the floor to let her in. The little black kitty looked up at Alethea from the floor until arms finally extended down to gather her up. Closing the door behind them, Alethea walked back to the bed and flopped down with the vibrating animal. Her purring was so loud Alethea could feel the bass in her chest. Perhaps it would grant her a little rest, the monotonous, soothing purr. She cuddled Jezebel gently against her breasts, languishing in the softness of the fur, releasing herself to the warmth of a welcomed body close to her, and ridding herself of the urge to drink from the little life tank. She stroked at Jezebel’s glossy black coat causing an immediate reaction of stretching out as long as the little kitty could to enjoy the massage beneath Alethea’s hand.

Closing her eyes and slipping off into sleep for what seemed like only a few minutes turned out to be several hours. Alethea woke up to find Lokee standing over her trying to look like he cared about the fact that his hovering woke her up from the most relaxing sleep she’d had since she arrived.

“Get dressed, Alethea,” he said simply, uncaring. “Our guests will arrive soon and I want you looking your best.” He smiled, trying to encourage her by laying out his choice of clothing for her.

Annoyed, she turned over, carrying Jezebel close to her chest, and left him staring at her back. The purring motor started promptly. Knowing he would be irritated by her blunt rudeness, Alethea acted as though she were too tired to understand him. “Uh-huh,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes closed tightly.

He caught on to the act and yanked her back over to face him. “Alethea, get up and get dressed,” he demanded.

She blinked up at him for a moment, anticipating her next move. The tension displayed itself through Alethea’s arms and startled Jezebel who carefully untangled herself from Alethea’s grasp. Alethea wondered if she should get up as requested, or ignore him and see what happened. Logic told her not to play with him; she would get hurt and didn’t want to. Slowly, she pushed herself up onto her side and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

“Good girl. Here,” he pointed at the dress he laid next to her on the bed. “Wear this and hurry up,” he said as he walked away from her and out into the hallway. She heard him humming to himself all the way down the corridor. What guests could make him so elated? She felt as though she would be meeting part of his family. His happiness was frightening; it wasn’t normal for his disposition. It just didn’t fit.

Alethea looked over at the dress. Jezebel found it a comfort zone, bathing luxuriously on it. Alethea giggled. “Get off,” she said and nudged at the cat gently. Jezebel stood up, threw her tail in the air, and walked away smugly.

Tap, tap, tap.

“What the—” Alethea looked up at the window with a start. She was faced by her own reflection, but the tapping continued. She jumped up off the bed, grabbing her silk robe in modesty. “Who’s there?” she asked cautiously. She still could not focus on anything outside her window, but the faint outline of a face drew her in closer. Her heart skipped a beat and her breath escaped her. She picked up a chair on her way over for extra protection.

“Alethea,” a voice whispered behind her. She looked toward the window slowly and, in the reflection it cast, saw Roman standing close behind her. Whipping around to identify him with confidence, she found no one, and threw down the chair in defeat. She walked the rest of the way to the window finding nobody outside. She bowed her head. The trickery was maddening as well as cruel.