Blood Life (37 page)

She leaned herself against the supportive backdrop and allowed the sensations of heat to filter through her body. This calmed her nerves, and eventually the stress began to subside. Growing sleepier as time passed, she closed her eyes, welcoming what could finally be restful sleep.

As she walked down an unknown path, she recognized the scenery as pure Nature. She made her way down a slope—shrubbery lightly brushing across her clothes—feeling desolation in the thicket of trees. Random rays of sunlight fell through the treetops, casting a myriad of geometric shapes on the path at her feet. Alethea couldn’t recall how much time had passed or the distance she had covered; she only remembered following the points of light and shadow until the woods broke and she stumbled clumsily into a clearing.

The expansion of green grass, accented by the sweet smell of chlorophyll, sent a rush through every inch of her body. She bent over and took off her shoes to immerse her naked feet into the earth. She enjoyed the sensations of long, reaching blades across her feet as soft as papier-mache’ strips. She searched for a comfortable spot to rest, finally settling on a tall, concealing patch of billowy grass. Carefully, she lowered down, allowing herself to become absorbed in the folds of greenery. Carried across the clean, still air were the celestial songs of Nature.

“Mother . . . Mo-ther,” called a voice from afar. Alethea turned to look, finding only Nature before her. Not another soul stood on the sacred grounds. But the voice tore into her heart and surfaced a new yearning.

She allowed her thoughts to ride on the waves of the birds’ melodic hymns. Their soothing, high-pitched praises grasped onto her, in a hypnotic hold, allowing the tenure of the day to be lost in the consumption of passivity and relaxation. She envisioned herself preserved inside towering, mineral-pastel cliffs, united with Nature. Embraced by Her beauty.

“Mo-ther . . .” the angelic voice called again, pulling Alethea out of meditation. She permitted her eyes to open, the crush of color dazzling her sight. From every angle, a point of light reached her sensitive eyes, reflecting some untamed extension of the beauty surrounding her. The phenomenal sounds drowned in her ears, the rhythm and gentle clatter of a thousand leaves applauding, but she had lost the anonymous voice again. She remained still in her isolated position until the sky finally fell victim to black. The constellations rose and were spinning above her, as the cool blanket of nightfall wrapped itself around the scenery, enveloping everything within reach.

“Mo-ther, where are you? Mo-ther.” The voice sang in glorious notes that picked at Alethea’s soul. She stood from her safety on the grass and swayed to the sounds of the calls. She danced, entranced by thoughts and feelings of happiness. The voice was chilling, yet alluring. She spun around and around, falling back down to the comfort of the Earth.

She jolted awake from the dream, and when she hit the ground, she was snapped back into the tub. The water, now cold, was disturbed. She rose slowly, trying to focus on the bar above the tub to hold her weight. She felt so heavy. Alethea strained to fight the dizziness that wanted to wash over her. She started to blackout; she couldn’t find anything to hold on to.

“Roman!” she heard herself shout, her speech slurred. “Roman!”

Within moments, she had lost her sight and landed, with a thud, onto the hard, marble floor. Crawling, still fighting unconsciousness, she searched frantically for an outlet.

Devendra arrived, stricken, and swept her up into her soft embrace, saved once again by the witch; the vampire with enough power to become the Mother. Had the voice in the dream been Alethea calling to Devendra? Or the baby calling to her mother, Alethea?

Fifty Two

When Alethea awoke again, she felt heavier than before. She was flat on her back staring up at the ceiling of the ritual room. Her head ached from where she must have knocked it. There was a dull, but very fresh, pain in her belly. She carefully turned her head to scan the room.

Devendra was working fervently at her altar, setting up for what seemed to be of dire importance. Her meticulous situating and re-situating of bowls, candles, consecrated blades, gemstones, censors, and herbs made Alethea dizzy.

Sensing she had woken, Devendra turned and walked over to her quietly. Reaching her, Devendra adjusted the black velvet cloth she had placed over Alethea’s belly for protection, to cast away negative forces.

Alethea moistened her dry lips, taking in breath. “How long have I been out?” she asked, her voice uncommonly hoarse.

Devendra lifted a cold, damp cloth to Alethea’s forehead, pressing it firmly. “Only a few days,” she answered, nonchalantly, continuing to apply the cold compresses.

This news was disturbing.

“A few days?” Alethea replied. She felt as though she had only closed her eyes for a moment to regain control, but to have been out for a few days made no sense. “That’s not possible,” Alethea countered.

“Well, Alethea, you had to sleep through the progress,” she said, indicating what lay beneath the black cloth.

Her eyes widened as she looked down in terror. Adrenaline coursed through her veins at the thought of having come to term in a matter of days. Alethea’s belly was extended to its fullest, stretching at her once supple skin grotesquely. She moaned in fear, realizing that night would be the night.

“Sssssh,” Devendra cooed, stroking Alethea’s belly. “I cast a spell over you to make you sleep through the rapid growth. The pain would have been far worse if you were awake to endure it.” Devendra lifted the cloth from Alethea’s belly. “There is no need for fear, darling. Everything will be fine. Both of you will live—Her life shall finally be granted,” Devendra finished, her eyes smiling. She moved closer and gently guided Alethea back down to the pillows.

“But,” Alethea started. Tears rolled down the sides of her face, filling her ears. She wasn’t ready to bear the child. She needed more time.

“Alethea,” Devendra consoled, “tonight is the night and we are all prepared. You have only to lay still. Relax. The work will be done through your spirit and will, the pain will subside, and we are going to have accomplished the most sought after task of The Combined since at least the 11th century. Tonight, we will change Fate for the better, forever; we will all bear witness to the greatest miracle since Silas, the Father, rose from the dead and became undead,” she cried, triumphantly, fixing her stare on Alethea’s bulging belly.

Devendra bent over to kiss her skin, then pressed her ear against Alethea’s womb. She closed her eyes to listen for movement, life. “Tonight,” Devendra continued, “will be the first time in history a Goddess has been reborn through one of Her own children.”

Alethea cringed as a contraction battled her fiercely. Devendra’s words hung like stale smoke in the air. She was beginning to understand the reason for Devendra’s softening on the matter. But to believe it was far too difficult. Alethea was grateful for having been made such an important role in the vampires’ beliefs, but was she expected to die so that the Mother could live? How and why would Alethea be chosen for such an important display of faith to the mighty Goddess’ people? Alethea, the one who could not save herself from her own evil attacker would be so special? She couldn’t even meditate without leaving her spirit wide open for manipulation. Vampires from around the universe would want to see what she has consummated, and they would not be pleased to discover that a “youth” had the skills it took. Alethea didn’t believe she did; hence, she was afraid for her life yet again. Her soul had been threatened since she lived as Alexandria, and now, it continued with no recoil.

This must have been her Fate. The whole thing a plan from the very beginning.

After all Lokee had done to destroy Fate’s plans, he could have at least changed Alethea’s outcome. She felt sure she wasn’t ready to take on the responsibility of delivering a Goddess into the waiting, welcoming arms of Her faithful disciples. Every vampire in the Spectrum knew what was to take place that night; Alethea feared the worst, as always. She could hear them all, whispering, crying, praying, screaming, begging for the Mother’s mercy when it came time for their judgment. She would judge them all.

Another contraction stole her attention. She groaned, fighting to banish the pain.

“Don’t fight it,” Devendra ordered. “Alethea, block out the pain! Your mind is capable, just concentrate and breathe,” she hissed, glaring into her.

“I am trying,” Alethea spit back between short breaths. “I hate you!”

Devendra laughed. “No, you don’t. It’s the pain talking.”

Devendra turned and walked back over to her altar. Checking to make sure everything lay in their places, she motioned for Roman, who watched from the hallway, to join them. Moments later, he pushed himself through the door, acting as the merry father-to-be.

“Is it time yet?” he sang, with a smile that stained his face.

Annoyed by his giddiness, Alethea struggled to sit up on her elbows. “Devendra,” she started, but was attacked by yet another reminder of her present situation. Devendra turned to ask Roman to join her at the altar.

Alethea was enraged. She felt she had every right to know what the plan was. Why she felt this ghastly pain, and most importantly, why the baby was ready so soon?

The two of them stood with their backs facing her, pointing and whispering amongst themselves. Another contraction filtered through Alethea’s beaten form, causing her to cry out in agony. Each contraction grew stronger than the last; it was almost time and she was still unsure of herself.

She held fast to her enormous belly, rubbing it and pleading for relief. Devendra walked over and helped her get situated better in her birth bed. The bed was made simply of soft fabrics draped over millions of goose feathers. Devendra picked up each of Alethea’s legs carefully, now kneeling near her feet, and placed one on each shoulder. Roman, who had crept up behind her, was pulling Alethea up to sit more comfortably back against the satin, body-length pillows.

Alethea howled as she was hit again. It was too much. “I’m a fucking vampire; this shouldn’t hurt so much! Something is wrong!”

“No, honey, you’re all right,” Devendra said, moving her gaze between Alethea’s legs.

Alethea focused, trying to concentrate on her breath, but it did not block out the pain. The next contraction was so fierce it sent her body into a vicious convulsion. “What is happening?” she roared, sweat lining her face. “Get her out!” Alethea ordered through her teeth.

Each contraction sent her into a new oblivion of pain. Nothing mattered except birthing that incredibly persistent baby.

Roman started applying wet cloths to her forehead and the back of her neck. She squealed, pushing and clawing at her belly. Throwing her head back in fury, Alethea screamed at the top of her lungs, causing the Earth Mother Herself to fall silent.

In the moments following her final cry, Alethea fell deaf. No sounds from the material plane entered her ears. A sense of calmness washed over her, draining every inch of discomfort from her shell. Her spirit hummed in glory. She looked down at Devendra with wide eyes as she worked steadily at coaxing Alethea to push harder. Her lips moved furiously as she positioned her hands in front of Alethea’s groin, ready to receive the life that was destined to fall out of her womb. She pointed to and fro, sending Roman around like a madman to fetch the appropriate dressings for the newborn. Devendra’s hand came up in front of Alethea, asking her to stop.

“Stop pushing,” she mouthed to Alethea, who understood in her deafness. She remained still, blinking at Devendra with eyes half-mast. Catching Alethea’s solemn stare, Devendra stopped directing her. At the moment their eyes met, a connection passed between them. An understanding. An intense feeling of bonding. Alethea reached out her hand to caress Devendra’s face. She let her face roll in Alethea’s clammy hand, closing her eyes to take in the full sensation of her touch.

“Mo-ther!”

The sound of that angelic voice from the meadow dream broke through Alethea’s silence. She was coming. Instantly, roars and moans flew from every crevice of her soul as the baby fought for life. She struggled inside Alethea’s birth canal, forcing herself past the strangling flesh that closed in on her. In one last, firm exhale, she was free.

Nobody spoke as the room illuminated with Her presence. The flames of candles stopped dancing on their wicks. Everything lay perfectly still.

Devendra, laying the baby softly down onto the blankets, withdrew her trembling, blood-soaked hands and placed them over her mouth. Tears sprung to her eyes. She immediately removed her hands from her mouth, regaining her composure, and began to laugh. She smiled and taunted the child. Alethea, also crying, pushed herself upright to catch the first glimpse of Her. When she saw Her eyes, shining violet and focused keenly on her own, Alethea completely understood.

Slowly, Alethea lifted her eyes to the window. Azrael sat on the sill, smiling coyly at her. Had Death come back to claim her now, after giving birth to the Mistress of their kind? She could feel him pulling and tugging at her soul. Distant cries of his lost souls flooded Alethea’s space. She looked over at Roman, who, in absolute shock, stared back at her with large, round eyes. He noticed Death’s presence and knew it was not to merely congratulate her.