A Reason to Live: A Shadowdance Variation

© 2016 Mark Wooden. All Rights Reserved.

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“SHADOWDANCE” SAGA CHRONOLOGY

“A Reason to Live: A Shadowdance Variation”

“
By Virtue Fall:
Shadowdance Saga Song One”

AUTHOR’S NOTE

You will find several hyperlinks within this text.
You may follow these links to the “Shadowdance” saga website for
more information about the Initiated of the Shadowdance. Other
links take you to various (safe) places on the web for further
information.

Enjoy your dance.

TOKYO,
JAPAN

DECEMBER 1902

Illyana
Dakanova
looked at the battered and bleeding girl lying
unconscious on the tatami mat at her feet. “I defied the
Daughters
only twice in my centuries of existence,” she
said. “Both times involved you, Adriana.”

Illyana held a serving tray carrying a bowl of warm
water, a hand towel and a knife. She set the tray down on the wood
floor next to Adriana, then sat beside it with her feet underneath
her. Illyana soaked the towel in the water then rung it out so that
it was damp but not soaked. She then returned her attention to her
patient.

Adriana Dupré
was in her early twenties, about seven
years younger than Illyana. At least, that was how they appeared.
Both women were actually much older.

Adriana’s dark brown hair was matted with blood, but
otherwise retained its curled luster. Though her body and clothing
were ravaged with cuts and bruises, she looked angelic at rest.
This was how Illyana chose to remember the girl: a peaceful, lovely
nightingale — not the merciless vampire assassin she had
become.

The vampire Illyana had created.

Illyana pressed the damp towel to Adriana’s face,
wiping away the blood and revealing her pale skin underneath.
Adriana had a nearly symmetrical round face, which tapered to a
delicate curve at her chin. Bruises formed from several blows to
that beautiful face. Illyana cleaned the blood from the slit on
Adriana’s thin lips.

Setting the towel back on the tray, Illyana picked up
the knife. She paused to gaze at Adriana. Shaking off her empathy
for the girl, Illyana dug the knife’s blade into the palm of her
free hand. She squeezed her lacerated hand into a fist. Blood
seeped through her fingers. Holding her bleeding hand above
Adriana’s mouth, Illyana let her blood drip onto the unconscious
girl’s lips.

One drop. Two.

Adriana’s lip quivered, as if sensing the blood. Her
lips parted; blood dropped into her mouth onto her tongue, which
extended like a thing slowly coming to life.

Suddenly, Adriana sat up. She grabbed the wrist of
Illyana’s bleeding hand, drawing it toward her. Illyana barely had
time to open her fingers as Adriana forced the hand to her mouth,
sucking at the bloody wound. Illyana wrapped her other arm around
Adriana’s shoulders, pulling the girl into her bosom and cradling
her head as she fed.

Illyana savored the opportunity to nurture her
maternal instinct.

A few moments later, Illyana looked down at Adriana.
She no longer fed from the wound, merely held Illyana’s arm while
resting against her. Illyana gently stroked the girl’s hair with
her free hand, consoling her like a child.

Adriana abruptly grabbed Illyana’s hand. Illyana
grimaced in pain from Adriana’s grip. The younger girl pushed away
from Illyana and turned to face her. The older woman saw a haunted
look in Adriana’s cold gray eyes.

“What happened to ‘if you go, you go alone?’” Adriana
asked in a voice as cold as her eyes.

Illyana stared at the girl for a moment, then turned
away. Grabbing the towel from the tray, she wiped the blood from
her wounded palm. “You’re welcome,” she said, a bit more
caustically than intended.

She put the towel back on the tray with the bowl and
knife, then picked up the tray. Standing, Illyana walked the five
strides required to cross to the front of the room. A short counter
and a bucket sat to the right of the sliding door. Illyana knelt in
front of the counter, placing the objects on her tray upon it. She
felt Adriana’s eyes on her but wouldn’t give the girl the
satisfaction of a glance.

“You have to decide if you are with me in this or if
you are not,” Adriana said.

Illyana busied herself with emptying the bowl into
the bucket, then using the towel to wipe the inside of the
bowl.

Adriana would not be ignored. “I need to know if I
can rely on you or—”

“There are so many better ways to spend your
immortality, Adriana,” Illyana said. She squeezed the towel over
the bucket, draining it. Her grip was tight enough to whiten her
knuckles.

Adriana allowed Illyana a moment to collect herself.
In that moment, Illyana threw the damp towel onto the counter and
placed both her hands on the counter to steady herself. Her face
hung downward, her shoulder-length hair, so blonde it was nearly
white, cascading over her shoulder and blocking her view of
Adriana.

It was for the better; should Illyana’s tears come as
they inevitably did during this oft-had conversation, she didn’t
want Adriana to see them.

“When you turned me,” Adriana began, “it was for the
purpose of finding out what had happened to my family.”

Illyana remained silent. She didn’t need the
reminder. She had been there. And yet Adriana always insisted on
making Illyana seem at fault in her choice of death over life.

“I learned of my sister’s corruption at the hands of
the Daughters of Lilith,” Adriana continued, “what they made me do
to my ancestors. Would you not have me avenge them?”

“I would have you live your days in happiness,
thankful that you live,” Illyana responded.

“And what kind of life would I have, knowing those
who are guilty go without justice?”

Illyana turned wildly to face Adriana, her hair
thrown to the side. “You don’t want justice!” she said. “Justice
would be allowing the elders of the Initiated to decide the
Daughters’ fate! You want them destroyed! You want revenge!”

Illyana’s sudden anger silenced Adriana. Illyana felt
horrible that she’d allowed herself to get this worked up. Again.
The same fight they’d had for over half a decade. Yet Adriana would
not see her side of the argument.

The silence between them crossed a century, all the
way back to that fateful night in St. Petersburg when Illyana made
Adriana the offer of immortality.

The offer to become a vampire.

Adriana stood. Illyana noted the girl had already
used the magic of the blood she’d been given to heal her wounds.
“Where are my blades?” she asked.

Illyana ignored the question. She fought the urge to
cry as she rubbed her eye sockets with the heels of her hands.
Looking at her bloody hands after, she realized she’d failed.

When she looked up, she saw Adriana was gone. Turning
back to the entrance, Illyana found Adriana standing there. The
girl was always silent and fast. It made her a lethal assassin for
the Daughters.

It was an unnerving trait among supposed friends.

“My blades, Illyana,” Adriana said. There was no
insistence in her tone. Instead, she sounded as if she too were
tired of this conversation.

Illyana looked away from the girl. “And if I give
them to you, you’re just going back after Yukio.”

Adriana made no reply.

“She’ll kill you, Adriana,” Illyana said, the words
choking in her throat.

Again, no response.

Illyana turned to look at Adriana. This time, she
made no effort to hide her tears. “I couldn’t bear to think of a
world without you.”

Adriana met Illyana’s gaze; the blood of Illyana’s
tears smeared the vibrant blue of her eyes. The younger girl turned
her gaze downward. Illyana couldn’t tell if the move was to cover
Adriana’s shame or frustration.

Or perhaps she had simply grown tired of seeing
Illyana cry.

“You tried to save me from whatever the Daughters had
intended for me,” Adriana said. “I appreciate that, Illyana.” She
met Illyana’s gaze once more. This time, the determination that
made Adriana the Daughters’ most ruthless assassin returned. “You
created me, but you are not my mother.”

Illyana’s gaze lost its focus. She turned away from
Adriana, once again gripping the edge of the countertop. Tears of
blood splattered upon its surface.

“Dominique
is my blood,” Adriana continued. “I will find
her, and I will destroy those who corrupted her. If I should fail,
if I should—”

Illyana grabbed the bowl with both hands and slammed
it onto the countertop, shattering it.

Adriana remained silent. Patient.

Illyana held a death grip on the pieces still in her
hands. “The closet,” she said through gritted teeth.

Adriana remained still for a moment. Then Illyana
felt Adriana’s presence move from her to the closet in the rear of
the room. The next sound she heard was the opening and closing of
the room’s entrance door.

It was the last sound Illyana remembered from Adriana
Dupré.