Resurrected (10 page)

Eventually, Octavious
walked back out to the solarium and came back with a stool. About
five feet away from Eme and two feet from the approaching sun, he
placed himself. He decided he was going to learn what she was so
frightened of. With a look of shock on Eme’s face, Octavious
laughed aloud.

“Since you will not tell
me, I shall find out with my own eyes,” he said, sitting there
feeling smug. As time passed slowly, the sun now beat down on
Octavious. With his eyes closed, he soaked up the heat of the sun
while Eme continued to whimper to herself. Even with Eme’s eyes
slammed shut, the daylight that glowed on the ground just a foot
away from her caused her great pain. Eme grew very silent as the
sun inched its way toward her. It now seemed to move so quickly.
Octavious opened his eyes as he realized that his slave was no
longer making a sound. In seconds as the sun found her bare skin,
the tiny hairs began to singe and her flesh to blister. Eme
screamed in agony.

“In the name of the gods!”
Octavious stumbled to his feet and fought against his fear as he
ran inside for the keys. Tripping into the cage he came to a stop,
fumbled for the right key and opened the huge iron lock. In a panic
he tossed it aside then made his way for the wrist and ankle locks.
Now completely engulfed in sunlight, Eme’s exposed skin bubbled as
though it had been exposed to the intense heat of a fire. Trying to
protect her face, she kept her head against her knees. She was sure
this was to be her final demise. Suddenly she felt herself being
pulled and dragged away from the cage as her body began to
combust.

Octavious tossed her into
the shade and started beating at the flames with the tunic he’d
ripped from his own body. Almost as soon as Eme was out of
sunlight, the flames that had been consuming her dissipated,
leaving her skin blistered and blackened. In severe pain, she was
unable to fight off the unconsciousness that was settling around
her. Having no control over her body left her vulnerable with
Octavious.

After that experience, he
was even more mystified by this woman. Over the course of the year
he discovered her weaknesses and strengths. He learned how to
manipulate and exploit her so he could achieve for himself great
amounts of money and status among the Roman people–for he wanted to
be in the Senate.

Having learned of her
physical strength and her abnormal hunger, Octavious knew that he
could exploit and mold her into an elite female gladiator. He would
find his fame and fortune through her.

With Octavious’ ruling Eme
was always kept separate from the other female gladiators. He was
the only one to care for her and no one else was allowed near her.
If anyone went against his wishes to catch a glimpse of Eme, they
paid for their curiosity with a severe beating. The longer she was
in his charge, the more Eme’s thoughts evolved from cursing that
she had been imprisoned, to needing to appease her appetite for the
bloody monthly battle.

On the
night of the full moon Eme prepared herself for battle. Placing the
bronze
armour
over her shoulders, she
tightened the leather straps around her waist. The
armour
partially covered the teal blue tunic which
exposed her left breast, as most female gladiators fought. Eme then
put on her helmet, which came with a partial
mask.

She had heard through the
other gladiators as they whispered in their cells, that she was to
fight two women and the top male gladiator, Proximo. She had never
fought against a male gladiator. This was a very unusual situation
and Eme couldn’t help but wonder why Octavious would set up such a
match. Pacing back and forth in her cell, Eme took a deep breath
and attempted to let her mind go numb. If she did not, the guilt
that was her lingering humanity would cause her to become injured.
She couldn’t afford to lose her head.

As she put on her shin
guards and shield, the crowd grew with excitement with each passing
moment. Her heart pounded, her thirst was great but something was
not quite right. She found herself thinking about her past. It had
been two thousand years since their ill-fated father, the Blood
God, brought Eme and her immortal brothers Elijah and Ezra across
to the dark side. Once separated from her brothers, who had given
in to their bloodlust, Eme fought night after night against it as
it gnawed at her. However as time passed, the fight lessened to at
this point in time, where the humanity in her seemed to be
diminishing. Only when the fear on her opponent’s face broke
through her malicious shield, she proverbially weakened at the
knees. Octavious had changed Eme from once fighting against the
bloodlust to seeking it out. She was no longer whom she used to be,
there was no sign of her old self.

Why was her mind finding
its way back to her past? Why couldn’t she erase these thoughts
from her head like she could every other time? It was as though
someone were inside her head. Startling Eme, Octavious stood at the
opening of her cell. She didn’t even hear him open the door. She
was lost in her thoughts as well as the sounds of excitement of the
games that had been going on for three-quarters of an hour. She
shook her head in an attempt to clear the haziness clouding her
mind then turned her attention to Octavious. He stood motionless
for a moment as he looked at Eme. He could see that she was
distracted, which irritated him. Tossing the four-foot long broad
sword at her, he grunted his demands and told her it was time for
her to fight.

With sword in hand, Eme
stood before the gate that opened out to the Coliseum. Incense
burned in various clay pots where the Caesar and his bride sat
waiting for the main fight of the night. They were just as curious
of its outcome as the people of Rome were. Hundreds of lamps were
placed around the arena and throughout the crowd. The moon that now
shone high in the night sky illuminated the arena. The moonlight
was so bright that shadows where cast from the awnings above the
crowd.

Once the
gate opened, Eme walked out to the center of the arena. The crowd
went wild, calling out her name. Moments later the announcer
bellowed the names of the gladiators that were also to grace the
arena. Out first were Lucinda and Divia,
armoured
much like Eme was, also with one breast bare. Eme’s heart
pounded with anticipation and excitement. The bloodlust quickly
took over, just as it always had before. Eme had never fought
against either woman but had heard of their many violent
triumphs.

‘This will be a satisfying
fight,’ Eme thought to herself as the two women approached her
slowly, one to the left of her and the other on her right. Since
Divia to the right of her was closest, she would be the first one
that Eme would attack. Crying out as she ran forward, Eme raised
her sword. The crowd went crazy as their swords met. With a grunt,
Divia stumbled back a step from the impact. Quickly she came back
at Eme with several swings of her sword and a swift elbow to Eme’s
face. Eme turned without delay away from Divia as she heard Lucinda
coming up fast behind her. Out of harm’s way from Divia’s sword,
Eme now concentrated on Lucinda.

Lucinda lunged forward
with her trident. Countering the attack, Eme swung her sword with
such force it broke the shaft leaving Lucinda with nothing but a
stick. She then raised her sword and charged at Lucinda. Eme’s
blade sliced her unprotected shoulder and bare breast. Crying out
Lucinda jumped back out of Eme’s reach. Suddenly Eme felt the cold
metal of a blade penetrate the flesh of her arm leaving her with a
gash. Spinning around, Eme swung her sword recklessly but the blade
found its way through Divia’s neck. Her head flew away from her
body and landed several feet from the twitching corpse.

The crowd roared at the
spilling of blood. Eme paused for what seemed dangerously too long
and took in the scent of Divia’s blood. ‘What a waste,’ she
thought. Soon enough she brought herself back to the fight, turning
her full attention to Lucinda. In her battle stance, Lucinda waited
for Eme to attack. Through several swings and connections of their
swords, Eme’s heart raced as Lucinda’s scent floated about her
head. Losing any self-control she had managed to cling onto, Eme
went wild.

Raising
her sword, she drew it down with such force that it slashed through
Lucinda’s masked helmet, slicing it and the flesh across her face.
Crying out, Lucinda fell to the ground and tried to rise to her
feet, but Eme was on top of her. With one swift blow straight down,
her sword penetrated the
armour
and through her
chest. Lucinda gasped. Blood now flowed from her mouth, the gash on
her face and the wound in her chest and pooled around her. Eme then
kneeled beside Lucinda and removed her helmet. Before her heart
ceased beating, Eme pierced the flesh with her fangs and drank
until Lucinda’s heart ceased to beat.

Rising to her feet, the
crowed had become silent. Feeling anger and slight embarrassment,
Eme cried out and raised her sword. The crowd began to cheer again,
but not because she was the victor. Proximo had now entered the
arena and there was still more gore to come.

Splattered with Lucinda
and Divia’s blood, Eme waited for Proximo to come to her. The
gladiator laughed as he casually walked towards her. Eme could tell
he had no problems with fighting a woman. His mind was easy to read
and his idea of an easy kill flashed in her mind. The fact that he
was able to fight and kill a woman seemed to delight him in an
unnatural way and it infuriated Eme.

Only ten
feet away, Proximo grabbed himself and muttered to Eme, “Once your
body is unable to fight any longer, I will
savour
you.
I will rape you until your insides are out, then I will kill you,
for my own personal pleasure!”

Eme
glared at him. She knew the
armour
he wore was much
thicker than what the women were given. The whole idea seemed
suspicious, as though she had been set up for death. She watched
him carefully as he slowly approached.

For but a moment Eme
looked to the black sky, its bright stars sparkling here and there.
As she returned her gaze to Proximo and prepared her stance for
battle, the whisper of a voice entered her head.

“This is not the life for
a vampire.”

Eme spun around, her eyes
searching for the face that went with the voice. Nothing–only a sea
of black faces in the crowd. Waking her from her search Proximo ran
towards her. His body connected hard with hers forcing Eme to fall
to the dry sandy ground, raising a cloud of dust around her.
Proximo grunted and attempted to drive his sword into Eme. But as
she saw the blade shine in the moonlight she rolled out of the way
and sprang to her feet. Her blade at the ready, Eme lunged at
Proximo, crying out as she went on the attack. Swinging her sword
with such speed and accuracy she quickly surpassed Proximo’s
abilities. With one severe blow of the hilt against Proximo’s
temple, he fell to his knees as his vision blurred. Eme yelled out
to the crowd.

“Where are
you?”

Ignoring the crowd’s call
for more blood, Eme stood there scanning the crowd. All of a
sudden, like being subconsciously directed, Eme’s eyes found who
she believed to be behind the voice in her head. It was not Elijah,
nor was it Ezra. Eme stood there dumbfounded, forgetting that
Proximo was only temporarily stunned. She knew in an instant that
this man was a vampire, despite the hooded cloak that shadowed his
face. His eyes shone a luminous blue-violet and dark circles hung
below. His skin was a soft brown that glistened with an undertone
of creamy white. He spoke again, and though his lips remained
still, his voice penetrated her mind.

“I can save you from this
life and guide you into another. This is not the life for a
vampire. You know this.”

Suddenly
a sharp pain encircled Eme’s lower abdomen. Looking down she saw
the bloodied blade of Proximo’s sword protruding from her body.
Eme’s dark blood began to seep from the wound. Turning around, the
sword still in her abdomen, Eme let her gaze fall upon Proximo
whose expression changed from pure delight to absolute fear.
Reaching back Eme grabbed the hilt of the sword and pulled the
blade out of her body. As she walked towards him, she
telepathically sent him various scenarios of his death by her own
hands. Frozen in his own fear by what played before his eyes, Eme
tore at his
armour
as he stood there appearing
to the spectators as willing. The crowd hushed as they watched in
confusion.

Tossing
Proximo’s
armour
off to the side along with
both swords, Eme stood before him. She enjoyed the fear that now
completely engulfed him. Without forethought and as in reverie, Eme
bore right into him with a single fierce blow to his chest. Proximo
screamed, his shrill cry filled the Coliseum. Pulling her hand out
of Proximo’s chest, her hand was covered with his warm blood. She
clasped firmly onto his heart as Proximo fell heavily to the
ground. Raising the still warm heart to her lips, Eme drank the
sweet blood that filled the tiny vessel until it caved in on
itself. Gasps from the crowd filled the air like the sounds of
rustling leaves in the wind of an approaching
storm.