Authors: Heather Bserani
Immortal Storm (8 page)
Memories of his own change were fresh in Michael’s mind. Soon there would be a new sheep in the flock. Although Dori’s change came from tragedy, her awakening would be much gentler. It wouldn’t be much longer now and she would wake up in his arms with their happily ever after within reach.
Chapter Nine
Dori had a nightmare. She wasn’t being attacked nor was she scared, or in pain; it was the total isolation and sensory deprivation that left her lonely and confused. When she reached the bottom of the impossibly long fall, there was absolutely nothing; complete darkness. There was no sound, no light, nothing but empty black.
The madness was making her sick and her stomach was in knots. With clenched fists, tension readied her muscles like an arrow being drawn back in a bow. She had to run; she had to find a way out. Sitting still was an impossible option. Like a great jungle cat, she sprang to her feet. The tension drove her muscles forward and she promptly slammed back to the invisible ground. Something had tripped her; perhaps it was her own feet which were impossible to see in the dark. Nevertheless, she lay on the frozen bottom of the black abyss. Again she let out a shriek of frustration, and jumped to her feet. Her actions were desperate, those of someone trying to cheat death. She dug her toes into the unseen terrain and propelled herself forward, determined to find a way out. A few steps later, she was once again down. She tried over and over again to escape the barren hell she found herself in, but each attempt left her lying prone and defeated. In the thick, black night, she couldn’t discern the uneven ground or her feet. Each time she tried to run she would misstep and end up stumbling. In order to advance at all, she had to shuffle along, never losing contact with the hard soil. Blinded by her surroundings and irritated by her new limitations, she was incapable of fleeing with any sort of haste.
She let the sobs come, giving in to them in her helplessness. She slumped to the ground and cried for many things. She cried for her situation, for her frustration, for herself. The tears fell until there were none left. Even then, dry sobs wracked her crumpled body.
It was impossible to grasp the passage of time in the void. She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, eventually running out of strength to even sob. Every now and then her whimpering would echo around her, magnifying her loneliness. The side of her face pressed against the frozen soil and she wanted to disappear in this eternal night. She wanted to lose herself in it, to cover herself in the icy dirt, to shield herself from the infinite emptiness. As the energy to fight drained away, the cold crept in.
She decided that she must have died after all, and she was stuck somewhere in limbo because the place she was in now didn’t resemble any Heaven or Hell she had ever heard of. There was nothing for her senses to focus on save the unbearable cold. If it were light enough, she was sure she would be able to see her breath.
She shivered in the blackness, her muscles aching from the temperature around her. Her fingertips had long since passed the painful pins and needles and the throbbing in her toes had also passed. Her teeth chattered and her lungs hurt from the cold air; each breath was a knife in her chest. Her shivering rocked her more like convulsions as her body struggled in a last-ditch effort to create heat. She rubbed her hands together, trying to use friction to warm them, only to discover that her fingertips were completely numb, deadened from the cold. Every movement burned like razors cutting into her amidst Sto hat the frigid temperature. She knew that when she stopped moving, when she gave in, the cold would claim her.
Dori shook her hands, trying to make the blood flow again, but it was too late. The sting from moving forced the air out of her lungs, slicing another hole in her chest. The icy feeling in her hands slowly climbed through her body; in fact, her forearms were prickling as the cold claimed them as well. Her feet and ankles felt thick as they succumbed to the frigid temperatures. There was no way to escape the torturous polar air. Out of options, she conceded and gave in to death. She thought it ironic that although she had been crushed already today, her last memories of life would consist of her freezing to death.
She gathered herself into a ball, instinctively trying to get warm; every movement was a challenge with her frozen, clumsy muscles. She had cheated death once today, now her fight was over and it had finally come to collect. She wanted to be comforted. Her mind wandered and memories played like old movies in her head. The vibrant memories were a stark contrast to the cold blackness that was slowly invading her. The images paused momentarily when she saw her daughters being born. These images both intoxicated her with their warmth and cut to her core. The final memory, although fuzzy, was a magical voice and green summer leaves dancing in the wind.
As the images faded away, Dori became aware of the nothingness around her once again. She lay still. An onlooker might mistake her for dead if they were to happen upon her like this. In this dark place, the only palpable thing was her heartbeat. She listened to it, clung to it, knowing that it was all that tied her to the world she once knew. And then it began to slow.
Eventually the rhythmic beating was so slow that she could count to more than thirty between beats. She closed her eyes and told herself it would soon be over. After another very long moment, her heart finally missed a beat. She waited. Nothing. She was not in pain, but her heart was still and frozen. She lay there, wondering if this was death. There was a moment of terror and her mind detached from her body, sucked away into the vacuum of this place. Then a voice rang through the dark. Its vibration shook the air around her; it seemed to flow through her. Her misery was being prolonged as the voice spoke to her in the black solitude.
“Dorianna?” The voice echoed through the enormous, dark void. It called her from above. Confused, she opened her eyes and looked upward, trying to find the source of the sound.
“Dorianna?” Was that her name? She couldn’t remember. “Dorianna, it’s over now, open your eyes.” She was certain then that she had died. The voice just told her that her life was over, how then could she open her eyes? Nothing made sense. She thought her eyes were already open. She tried to summon the strength to lift her leaden head.
“Dori, come back to me. I have so much to tell you.” The voice was bubbling with excitement. Its melody was calling back her reason. She wanted to find her way out of the dark. She wanted to see the face that went along with the voice. She wanted to see the light again and shake the confusion out of her head. How could she get out of here? She had tried without success before. She must have missed something. If only it weren’t so cold, if only her brain wasn’t frozen, maybe she could figure this out.
“Dorianna, I am asking you to
trust me
t voice>
.” She recognized those words. This voice had said these words to her before. With a jolt of electricity a barrage of memories played in her mind. She saw paint splatters and paintings everywhere. She was staring at a mysterious stranger with green eyes. Michael! The attraction between the two of them burned in her memory and she was surprised her heart wasn’t racing in her chest. One memory melted into another and she felt herself being pulled upward from where she had fallen. As she rose, she left the cold behind and became steadily more aware of her body. She was still chilly, but not in pain like before.
It felt as if she was waking up from a long nap. She began to recognize her body, surprised when she could feel her arms and legs. Her confusion was lifting and she wondered what Michael could have done to reverse the damage caused by her broken neck. She remembered him drugging her. What had happened? She reached the top of her ascent. She could now feel her closed eyelids and taking a deep breath, she opened them.
Blinking several times, Dori tried to focus. After a few seconds her eyes complied and she was staring at Michael’s beautiful face. He was leaning over her, staring contentedly. His face was calm and his eyes glowed with excitement like a kid on Christmas. She felt herself smile as she stared at the bridge of his nose, his wavy black hair, the curve of his lower lip. Her eyes finally found their way back to his and she was startled by the golden flecks she saw there. She didn’t remember there being so many. Michael’s eyes were completely spellbinding.
Overwhelmed by the man who saved her and the undeniable mutual attraction that captivated them, she realized she was smitten. She was intoxicated by the way he had cared for her, by the way he had looked at her when she woke up, and by the way she was falling back into his eyes again. Without another word, Michael leaned down and brushed his lips to hers as gently as a summer breeze. He was so subtle, it was almost as if he hadn’t kissed her at all. She was hungry for more. He seemed to understand her longing and he pressed his mouth to hers again. This time she didn’t hold back. She let the frustration of her repressed attraction go and kissed him as if she were making up for lost time. She inhaled deeply and his scent intoxicated her. She wondered what his hair felt like and was surprised when her hands obeyed and found their way into his dark locks. Excited by her mobility, she lost control and bit Michael’s lip.
“Ouch!” he exclaimed and grabbed his lip, smiling.
“Sorry. I guess I got carried away,” she said, lowering her gaze.
“I never said I minded. I
do
have a lot to tell you,” he chuckled, excitement still glowing in his eyes.
Dori was busy looking at her hands, amazed when they obeyed her wishes. She stood up to make sure her legs and feet worked as well as her hands. To her great delight she was in perfect working order; in fact, she didn’t feel the ache in her knee that she had grown so accustomed to. Giddy with the thought that she could again live a normal life, she pirouetted. Michael’s laughter filled the room and Dori’s echoed shortly after.
“Maybe I should have painted you as one of Degas’ ballerinas instead of Monet’s wife. Come sit next to me, I have a lot to explain,” Michael said, patting a chair beside him. She did as he requested, pleased with the el Sd was ifectricity she felt sitting so close to him.
“What I am about to tell you is a story with a sad ending and a new beginning.” Her forehead wrinkled and her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to figure out what she had just heard. Michael leaned to her and kissed her forehead. “Just listen for now,” he said, picking up her hand.
“When I found you this morning you were in very bad shape. Your knees were shattered, your hands were broken, you had a fractured skull and your neck…” He paused to clear his throat. “The cold wind wasn’t helping and I knew it was only a matter of time before…” he paused again and she shivered with the memory of her desolate nightmare.
“Luckily, I have worked with a Rescue Squad before and they trusted me to take the lead on this one. I knew that I needed to get you to the hospital. Of course with the injuries you sustained, normal life would never be an option for you.” His voice had quieted to no more than a whisper. He was obviously saddened by his last statement.
Michael thought about his next words for an impossibly long time. Dori grew impatient to hear what he would say, although she wasn’t sure she would like it. Finally he met her eyes.
“I had to help you Dori, the only way I knew how.”
Like a lightning bolt, her memory flashed back to the ambulance. She saw his face hovering over hers after his gentle kiss. She saw his nostrils flare and his crazed look as she went for her neck. She cringed at the thought of his attack.
“I gave you the perfect gift,
il regalo perfetto
.” He said the last part in Italian and his pride was clear in the way his chest puffed up with his last statement.
She was silent as she tried to decipher his enigma. What did he mean? She stared at him in confusion; everything about him seemed perfect, handsome, desirable, intelligent, and respectable. She was reminded of how he had prefaced the story.
“Michael, what is the sad ending?”
“The sad ending is the end of your life as you knew it. The new beginning is the start of your immortality.” She again thought of his vicious attack in the ambulance right before she fell into the frozen abyss. He had bitten her. Her hand flew to her neck, although she felt nothing there.
“You bit me.” Her sentence was both a question and a statement. “What...are you?”
“I am your creator. I am immortal. Dori, I am what we both are now. We are bound by the change I made in you. We will live that bond until the end of time.”
Nothing he was saying made any sense. She felt something sticking in her throat. It was hard to swallow. Some lingering confusion must be clouding her mind. She sat motionless, trying to piece together what he was telling her. Immortal, the perfect gift, bound for eternity, her creator, the crazed bite; Dori was terrified. Michael was smiling, a gesture that should have calmed her, yet all she saw was his teeth. In that moment, she couldn’t remember the horse trainer that seduced her; she was face to face with the monster that had attacked her in the ambulance. His green eyes registered h S rev>