IM01 - Carpe Noctem (4 page)

CHAPTER 4

* * * * *

I stepped out of the bathroom into a small, dark hallway, noting doors to my left and right. Peering through an arched opening in the wall in front of me, I saw light and dancing shadows.

Maybe I should look for Lysander there.

I limped slowly through the archway, my muscles aching with each step.

The living room was cavernous, with vaulted ceilings. Though only two small lamps provided light, the room appeared as bright as if it were daylight inside. I squinted, allowing my eyes some time to adjust as I searched for Lysander. The small lamps, on top of side-tables, cast their glow on a U-shaped sitting space. A large, overstuffed black leather couch sat against a wall, flanked by two smaller matching loveseats.

Lysander sat on the couch, looking down at a book in his hands. He appeared not to notice me slowly making my way toward him.

I stopped long enough to get a good look at him. His skin was flawless, smooth as porcelain and just as pale, showing no signs of wrinkles or imperfections. He had a slightly pointed nose that hung over a pair of thin lips and his wide masculine jaw tapered down to a perfect crescent chin. 

I might have thought him a statue for the still and rigid way he sat on the couch. His broad shoulders hunched as he looked down, obviously engrossed in the book in his hands.

A glass coffee table sat in front of him, littered with papers and an antique-looking book.

I quickly scanned the rest of the room, wondering if anyone else was here with us. I was barely ready to speak with Lysander, and the prospect of more people like him sent a shiver of fright down my spine.

The opposite wall housed a large set of bookshelves with a library’s worth of old-looking books. A television was mounted to the wall between the bookshelves. Its light mingled with the glow of the table lamps, creating dancing images on the bare white walls. There was a stark, minimalist theme to the décor in this room. There was no warm, homey, lived-in feel. That, and the fact I didn’t see another person, gave me a small measure of comfort, confirming that we were alone.

Time to get some answers.

I steeled my courage and took a step forward. My ankle sagged. I let out a whimper as I lost balance and caught myself against the wall.

Lysander looked up. Wavy dark hair framed his oval face in a messy yet purposeful way. His dark hair emphasized the almost transparent nature of his eyes and forced me to look directly at them.

They were so beautiful.

I could get lost looking into those deep, swirling pools of gray. Small hints of blue sparkled at me like stars in the twilight sky. I was entranced. We stared silently at one another for a moment before he stood up.

“Good to see you up and moving,” he said in a smooth, velvety voice. He was at my side in a blurred flash, moving quicker than I’d ever seen anyone move before. I stifled a small gasp as Lysander enveloped me in his strong arms and helped me to stand.

I suddenly felt the brush of butterfly wings buzzing deep within my stomach. Heat flushed my face. I looked down, not wanting to meet his gaze again.

“I have no doubt you are a little confused. Here, let me help you.” He supported my weight, helping me walk.

 “Where am I?” I asked meekly.

My muscles gave out and I collapsed onto the soft leather of his couch.

“This is my home, Alyssa.”

“And… who… what are you?”

My memory flashed to the darkness and the sound of his voice commanding me to drink. I shuddered for a second as a wave of fear struck me.

“Do not worry, Alyssa. I will not hurt you.” He breathed a heavy sigh, taking a seat next to me. “I’ve done enough to you already.”

My hand moved instinctively to my neck. I touched the crusted scabs of two small puncture wounds. I recalled the small pinch of teeth and the pressure of his mouth against my neck.

“What exactly have you done to me?”

“I must apologize for what has happened this evening. You would have died if I had not turned you.”

“Turned? What have you turned me into?” I asked, my voice finding a small measure of strength.

“Well.” Lysander paused and took a slow, deep breath. “To put it simply—” He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyebrows pulled together and small creases formed in between them.

I waited anxiously for what would come next.

“You are a vampire.”

“A what?” I shrieked.

“You are a vampire, Alyssa,” he said slowly. “An immortal.”

“No! That’s not possible.” I shook my head in disbelief. “Vampires aren’t real. They’re fiction; nothing but stories and myths.”

One of his dark eyebrows rose slightly. He cocked his head to the side. He smirked as his eyes trailed down from my face. “Did you not notice the mark on your neck? Do you not remember drinking my blood?” His fangs showed as he spoke: pure white, sharp little daggers, just a slight bit longer than the rest of his teeth. His voice carried that same arrogance I remembered from when he talked with my attackers.

My mouth hung open.
No, this isn’t possible
.

Things were still fuzzy in my head, but I did remember the blood, the liquid fire, I had been forced to drink. I’d hoped it had just been some drug-induced dream.

Oh, my God, it was true. I drank his blood
. “I’m…a … vampire?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “Our kind are very real. And now, Alyssa, you are one of us.”

I slumped backwards into the cushions of the couch. His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I stared wide-eyed at the distant wall. This was like some terrible nightmare. I didn’t want to believe what he was telling me, but I knew he was right. There was no other way to explain what had happened to me. No amount of hallucinogenic drugs could have explained how I had survived the attack, why I had these markings, or the sharpness of my own new set of fangs.

“Does that mean I’m… undead?”

“You are immortal,” Lysander said with a casual wave of his hand. “
Undead
is a silly term mortals use to explain the supernatural things they cannot possibly understand. You are no more dead than you were when you woke up this morning. You are just, for lack of a better word, changed.”

Lysander gave me another toothy grin. His fangs were frightening to look at. The memory of him biting me played over and over in my mind like a video stuck on repeat.

“But you drank my blood.” My hand shot back up to cover the wound on my neck.

“Only enough to allow the transformation.”

He reached out, grabbed my hand, and pulled it from my neck.

“Don’t touch me.” I flinched, annoyed and afraid at his sudden gesture. I tried to pull my hand out of his grip, but he was so much stronger than I was. He pushed my hand to my chest, forcing me to feel the erratic thumping of my heart.

“You see,” he said calmly. “Your heart still beats.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. “But…how?” I relaxed my hand relaxed under his grip.

“Unlike some of your other organs, your heart is still necessary to keep blood flowing through your body.” Lysander let go of me. “For now, while your body is in transition, it will beat in an accelerated rhythm, but it will eventually slow itself to a more normal pace.”

I was speechless. My mind raced, recalling books and movies, everything I knew about vampire mythology. Bats, stakes, and garlic immediately popped into my mind.

 “I must mention that your generation’s ideas of vampires are a bit off.” Lysander spoke with a hint of amusement in his voice. “Many of the popular books and movies about our kind are no more real than children’s fairytales.”

Is he reading my mind?
I wondered how he seemed to say just the right thing as I was thinking it. “So, none of the stories are true?”

“Most of the new stories you are probably familiar with are filled with complete nonsense.”

“What about the old ones, like Dracula?”

Lysander sighed. His shoulders slumped. “Dracula is not what I would consider an old story, but yes, a few are based on some truth, however little it may be. There is much that is added to make us seem easier to deal with.” His lip curled into a crooked grin. “Mortals like to think they can hurt us. It helps them sleep at night.”

“So, you’re not afraid of crosses, then?”

Lysander shook his head. “Crosses and other holy relics are nothing more than symbols and decorations. I hardly see why an ornamental cross would stop me from doing anything. Furthermore, I think it’s time for the Christians to come up with a better symbol. One that is a little less… gloomy.”

I chuckled. “Okay, what about garlic?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “What about it?”

“Isn’t garlic bad for vampires?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Why would it be? We don’t eat, so how would it harm us?”

I nodded. “Okay… umm… stakes?”

His head tilted to the side as the corner of his lip rose up into a teasing grin. “You can try to stab me with a piece of wood, but I doubt it will do much more than aggravate me. We heal quite fast. Perhaps a blade would work better.”

I shuddered, seeing his teeth again as he spoke. Is that how I look now?

“So, knives and swords are bad?”

“Yes. It is much harder to regenerate a severed limb. And if we are separated from our heads, it would be safe to say we would cease to exist.”

I smiled, noting the sarcasm in Lysander’s voice. I could tell he’d had this conversation before. He seemed to be enjoying my round of silly questions.

“Holy water?” I blurted out.

Lysander let out a hearty laugh. “No, you won’t melt into a pile of goo. You can throw most of that nonsense out of the window, Alyssa.”

I giggled, realizing how silly it sounded: melting into a pile of goo after being splashed with water.
Maybe this won’t be so bad.

“You see, we immortals are not as ridiculous as Hollywood likes to portray us. Though one thing is true... we do survive off the blood of the living.”

The smile faded from my face.
Blood; of course
. That was the one true thing in all the myths.

Lysander sat quietly as if waiting for me to do or say something. After a moment of silence, the casual smile disappeared from his lips.

He had to know this revelation would be a shock to me, but I couldn’t read his now expressionless face. The silence in the room quickly turned awkward. I guessed that he was waiting for me to respond or acknowledge my understanding or acceptance of what he’d just told me.

But how do you respond to someone who tells you that you will now survive on blood? For that matter, how the hell was I going to survive on blood?

Am I going to have to bite someone? No! There’s just no way I can do that.

I sat there half dazed. As the thought of blood entered my mind, my stomach ached. Pangs of hunger nagged at me. I tried my best to ignore them. According to Lysander, hunger now meant blood; and if that was the case, I didn’t want any.

 “How, why... ” I didn’t have the ability at that moment to articulate all the thoughts swimming through my head. Words spilled out of their own accord, faster than I could form sentences. “I just… blood… no.”

“It’s a lot to take in, especially since you were thrown into this,” Lysander said in his soothing, velvety voice. “It is not a common practice to turn someone who is completely oblivious to our kind. Please understand, I had to do this. You would have died if I hadn’t turned you.”

How am I going to drink someone’s blood? I can’t do it. No! I won’t do it. That’s disgusting
.

Shock from this revelation tied my tongue.

“We can go into more detail about all of this after you have had a little time to accept it. There is more to know.”

More? There’s more? What else, do I have to eat brains, too? I don’t think I can handle any more.

I sat, wringing my hands as I tried to ignore the ache building in my stomach. Was it hunger? Thirst, perhaps?

Lysander’s brow furrowed as he watched me. I wondered if he understood what I was thinking or how I was feeling.

“Immortality, you might be happy to know,” he said softly, “does have a few pleasant benefits. You should already notice that your wounds are healing quite nicely. By tomorrow evening you will have completely healed, leaving almost no trace of tonight’s… unfortunate events.”

I took a deep breath, attempting to calm my nerves, and then nodded at Lysander, thankful for the change in subject. I didn’t want to hear anything more about blood.

“As you get stronger, your body will regenerate itself faster.”

I gave him a half-hearted smile.

 “Also, you will no longer age. Your body is now essentially frozen in time. The way you look today is the way you will continue to look forever.”

That, I had to admit, was a pleasant revelation; to be twenty-five forever, to never have to worry about wrinkles or gray hairs. I could enjoy the idea that I would stay young forever. At least there were some perks to this.

Lysander returned my smile.

“However,” he continued, almost cautiously, “the transformation causes you to lose the natural pigment in your skin. Without the melanin to protect you from ultraviolet light, you will sunburn … almost instantly.”

I looked down at my hands. They did seem to be lighter. Blue veins showed more prominently under my pale skin.

“The same goes for your eyes. They too, are also going to be extremely sensitive to light. Even with sunglasses, the sun’s light will be quite blinding.”

Great, another truth to the old myths; real vampires aren’t allowed out in the daylight. It saddened me to think I would never be able to go outside during the day again. I had not even been given a proper chance to say goodbye to sunlight.

Guess that means tanning booths are out, too.

I wondered how hard it would be to live a nocturnal life. It seemed that now I would have no choice.

Lost in my depressed thoughts, I was vaguely aware that Lysander was still talking. “We are creatures of the night, so to speak, and you will get used to this lifestyle soon enough.”