Resurrected

This book is a work of
fiction. Names, characters and incidents are either products of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events or persons, living or dead is entirely
coincidental.

Published by Eris Publishing
at Smashwords

Discover
other titles by Erika Knudsen at
http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/erikaknudsen

Copyright © 2010 by Erika
Knudsen

All rights reserved. No part
of this book covered by the copyright hereon may be reproduced in
any form or by any means – graphic, electronic or mechanical
without the prior written permission of the publisher, except for
reviewers who may quote brief passages. Any request for
photocopying, recording, taping or storage in any information
retrieval system of any part of this book shall be directed in
writing to the publisher.

Library
and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Knudsen, Erika, 1976-
Resurrected / Erika Knudsen.
ISBN
978-0-9687479-4-0
I. Title.
PS8571.N83R47 2003              
C813'.6       
 C2003-905872-7

Cover design by: Vanessa
Kotyk

Cover illustration by
Vanessa Kotyk

http://www.erispublishing.com

Mylana is my vampiric
mother and Brenna my vampiric daughter. I feel such love and hatred
for them both. I cannot be with either of them for too long before
I have to leave and be alone. My lover and friend, Elijah, and his
beloved immortal sister Eme are the oldest vampires I know. Their
vampiric father was the Blood God. Then there’s Lacroix, the
quintessential Parisian vampire, the ruler of the vampire coven
just outside of the old city. With his thick French accent and
powerful green eyes, he could make any mortal his willing
sacrifice. The only one in my clan that I don't know much about or
trust is Kristine; she is very new to the vampire world.

This story is a combination
of what I endured and what my family experienced and their ordeals.
It is a continuation of my last tale, so I should tell you briefly
about it.

The last years of the
twentieth century passed uneventfully. Then, out of nowhere, the
“Blood God”–as he liked to call himself–returned from the black
abyss of his tomb in Cairo, committed to mete out punishment upon
those vampires that had once tried to kill him. Elijah and Eme were
amongst the threesome he sought out.

The Blood God made Elijah
and Eme vampires against their will. They desperately wanted to
break free from his smothering grasp. They knew the only way to
escape was to destroy him. While they believed they had succeeded
in killing the Blood God, over the millennia his body had
regenerated. Released from his prison, he came back to pass
judgment upon those who had tried to kill him, along with their
loved ones. I was one of those who he hunted. I am glad to say that
it ended favorably; the Blood God was beheaded and burned to
cinders.

However, four years later,
just months before a new millennium, the ghosts of our past came
back to haunt us. The Adam of the dark world came looking for his
Eve. He wanted me.

Chapter 1

(Deirdra - November 14,
1999)

Snow fell
silently creating a serene ambiance. The car’s high beams reached
deep into the black of night. The light illuminated the huge white
flakes against the backdrop of the night sky, making it hypnotic to
watch as they hit the windshield. Mozart played softly in the
background. Mozart is Elijah's
favourite
composer
and
Requiem
was
Elijah’s preferred composition. Elijah loved how it revealed
Mozart’s tortured soul, how it exposed his touched nature. Elijah
had seen so many become mad because of him. Because they remembered
what he was and that he drank their blood.

I too know that feeling. I
did the same thing to my beloved, Brian. I was unable to hold back
my bloodlust, my desire to have him completely. To this day,
speaking of him or even mentioning his name makes me want to weep,
even though it was so long ago.

I wondered how it was that
Elijah could possibly be as old as he actually was. To live four
thousand years was something unfathomable to me. Would I ever live
that long? Would I even want to? Even with the changes in the
world, I can still see similarities between this modern age of 1999
and that of 1795. Many aspects have withstood the test of time,
like shoemakers, bakers, and farmers. Only in the field of
technology did the world really change–we have more toys for the
human mind.

“Deirdra?” Elijah touched
my left shoulder, “are you alright?”

“Yes,
just thinking.”
I turned to look at his
beautiful face, the light from the dashboard glowing off his white
flesh. Elijah may have been born in Cairo many millennia ago, but
his appearance is very Anglo-Saxon, with his steel blue eyes, short
tousled blond hair, strong jaw line and chiseled
cheekbones.

“You know I don't like it
when you get too quiet,” Elijah said with a smile spreading across
his face.

“Oh, don't worry,” I
consoled. “I’m fine.” I gave Elijah a quick glance and went back to
watch the falling snow. The CD had stopped and the hum of the car
now replaced its tune. I smiled and looked at Elijah while he drove
with care.

“What?” he said through a
laugh. I looked at him but said nothing. I wanted to collect my
thoughts first.

“I’m happy,” I replied
simply. “I don't think I’ve been happy in a long time. I was just
biding my time at Chantonnay, fooling myself into believing I was
happy. But I know now that I am truly content.”

Elijah removed his right
hand from the steering wheel and took my hand in his.

“Are you sure you are all
right with returning to Chantonnay now?” he asked as he eased off
the accelerator.

“Yes. It has been four
years without any contact with our family,” I said. “It’s time.” My
words were strong. I knew I was going to be okay. When the Blood
God came, he had taken away my strength and filled the void with
fear. I couldn't stay at Chantonnay long before I felt I had to
leave again. I saw his image everywhere, lurking in the shadows. I
had to get away and regain control over my emotions. I knew now
that the fear was gone, killed with the guidance and support of
Elijah. I was no longer a weak shell, scared of anything that went
bump in the night.

Yes, vampires can be
afraid. They can hate, love and cherish the ones around them. We
are akin to humans. We live among you. We are your customers, your
friends, and your neighbors.

Elijah’s voice brought me
back, “... and Mylana will be so pleased to see you well and
happy.” He looked at me, a broad smile on his face, his fangs
gleaming in the light. At the sight of them, I wanted him to touch
me and caress me. Oh, how I love Elijah.

“They are expecting us at
about midnight. Have you spoken to Brenna lately?" he asked
carefully. “She has been trying to talk with you for some time now.
Why are you so upset with her?”

“I do not wish to talk
about it right now. I'll fix things later,” I said, turning my head
to look out the side window to hide the tears welling in my eyes. I
hated to be seen crying, to be seen as vulnerable.

“She misses you. She needs
you, like you need Mylana. You must remember that, Deirdra,” Elijah
said.

“Mylana wasn't always there
for me. She left me for a while and I survived. So will Brenna,” I
said.

“True, but you should have
learned from your own experience how important a sire is to the
fledgling. Even if it has been two hundred years, the attachment
will always be there.” Elijah put his hand on my chin and turned it
so I would look at him.

“Do you understand what I
am trying to say here?” he asked, his eyes darting between the road
and me. I knew he hated having this kind of conversation while he
drove.

“Yes I do, and I will talk
with Brenna and sort things out,” I said meekly. Taking his hand, I
kissed it. “I understand.”

In the
distance I could see La
Maison Chantonnay.
The two storey manor was built from large rectangular multi-tonal
stones. Ornate
black
iron bars protected the main
floor windows and elaborately designed pillars flanked the
staircase showcasing the arched doorway.

Pulling up to the familiar
black gates, Elijah stopped the car. He hopped out and punched in
the code that would open the immense iron gates. The gates rattled
and squeaked as they opened. As we drove up the cobblestone
driveway, the gates closed behind us. The usually well-manicured
lawn was now covered in deep glistening snow. The fountain, where
water normally babbles from spring through fall, now stood frozen.
La Maison Chantonnay was much like us, immortal and
unchanging.

Mylana employed at least
half dozen gardeners to work on the landscape itself. As for maids
and butlers, she kept them to a minimum. Mylana trusted the mortals
working for her and as far as I knew, they were the same group of
employees as when I had left. I especially liked Stone, a young man
who would be twenty-five now. Mylana had taken him in when he was
eighteen. Stone had been living on the streets since he was
thirteen. I could not begin to imagine the life he had lived,
forced to sell his body for very little money or scraps of food. He
had been robbed, badly beaten and left for dead when Mylana found
him. She had planned on bringing him a peaceful death at that
moment, but as she watched him fight for life, she changed her
mind. He was a survivor. She picked him up, brought him to
Chantonnay, and cared for him in a way he could never have
imagined.

Approaching the garage, the
large graying cedar door opened and we entered the warmed shelter.
Stone was the first person to great us, standing in the doorway
with a wide grin.

“Elijah, Deirdra! You're
finally here,” Stone said as he came down the stairs and walked
over to us. He embraced me, and then Elijah as he came around the
car.

“Good to see you my man,”
Elijah said, his voice booming with joy. He loved this boy just as
much as he did any member of the clan. I stood there listening as
they chatted about Stone's school experiences and the new girl in
his life. I think Elijah secretly lived vicariously through
Stone.

Listening
to their conversation, out of the corner of my eye I saw Brenna
standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She smiled at
me. Brenna’s
demeanour
was timid yet welcoming.
I walked over to the stairs and looked up at her.

“How have you been?” I
asked.

“Good, I guess.” She
paused. “It’s been a while, hasn't it?” Brenna said,
straightening.

“Yes, it has.”

Brenna said nothing. She
looked at me with such sorrow. With outstretched arms she invited
me to embrace her. Walking up the rest of the stairs, I wrapped my
arms around her.

“I missed you!” Brenna said
her voice cracking. She had begun to weep.

“And I
have missed you too. Do not think that this time apart meant that I
did not love you anymore,” I said, leaning back so I could see her
face. Faint red tears streaked her white cheeks. So beautiful my
child was, with her long, thin nose, big black eyes, sensuous mouth
and black hair that cascaded down past her shoulders. I had created
her with love and reverent
honour
.

“I know, but it hurt when
we parted so angrily. And it has been so long! I feared you
wouldn’t come back at all,” she said, lowering her head.