Resurrected (27 page)

What Stone saw were
hundreds of mortals. Under a full moon they sacrificed themselves
to a god they were completely mesmerized by. Willingly, they
allowed their blood to be spilt for him. Ultimately it was only to
appease his desire, his drive for power and a different sort of
immortality among his followers.

Stone could no longer take
into himself the pure evil that flowed through Adam’s veins.
Despite being the last to feast upon Adam’s black blood, he was the
first to pull away. Amused by Stone’s horror with what he saw in
Adam’s blood, a low rumble of laughter reached Stone’s
ears.

Stumbling
backward the hot blood that coursed through Stone’s veins continued
to burn delightfully throughout his body. Quickly forgetting about
the horrid visions of the past, he reveled in the sensations his
body was going through. Catching a glimpse of his hands, he stared
at them in awe. They were whiter. Any pinkish hue that
coloured
his flesh was now gone and his blue veins were
more visible against the paleness of his flesh. A rapid surge of
energy charged through him, but just as quickly as that sensation
flooded over him, his vitality crashed leaving him weak and weary.
Stone began to feel the severe pull of the nearing dawn. The
sensation was oddly comforting and as he looked at the other
vampires still clamped onto Adam, he decided he’d rather be
slumbering than remain in that room.

As if stung by fire or the
sun’s rays, the vampires that clung onto Adam jolted back. Having
taken enough, they took him dangerously near final death. As they
backed away from Adam, the look in each and every one of their eyes
frightened Stone immensely. He had seen them angered, fearful and
in sorrow–but none of these emotions could describe what he
witnessed or felt emanating from them.

They lingered in the
delight they felt with Adam’s blood coursing through their bodies.
Standing stock-still as they slowly surrounded Stone, he waited in
silence for what was to happen next. All he could think about now
was sleep as his body became heavier by the moment. Stone could
tell that the others felt the rising sun, but they weren’t as
affected by it as he was. With his body being young with the dark
blood, he was much weaker and more tired than the others, despite
taking a fair amount of Adam’s blood.

In a dream-like state,
Stone heard the voice of Elijah but was unable to comprehend what
he had said. He felt as though he would fall to the floor in a deep
sleep before making it to any sort of bed. Feeling like he was
floating, he realized that Brenna held firmly onto him. She
directed him up the stairs and to one of the back bedrooms of the
house. He then found himself delighted to be lying upon a soft,
warm bed. Habitually he reached for the quilted blanket and covered
his body with it, tucking it under his chin. Before Stone succumbed
completely to slumber, he mumbled out, “Stay”, as he heard the
footsteps of Brenna making her way to the door.

Stopping in mid pace, she
kept her back to him for a moment before knowing what to say, or
think.

“If you wish,” Brenna said
simply, her voice soft as she turned and grabbed the pale yellow
blanket that sat folded at the end of the bed. She crouched down on
the floor and made herself as comfortable as possible.

The glow
from the sun seeped from around the edges of the
discoloured
roller blind. It gave the darkened room a feeling
of warmth that tugged at Brenna’s heart. It was a bittersweet night
for her, losing Deirdra. But the hope of regaining Stone toyed with
her mind and heartstrings. Brenna knew tomorrow would more than
likely produce even more anguish. Before her thoughts could delve
any deeper into her miseries, mercifully, the oblivion of sleep
took over.

Chapter 20

A sensation of warmth
surrounded me as I felt myself descend. It wasn’t actual physical
warmth that embraced me, but a sense of calm and stillness that
bestowed upon me feelings of joy and comfort, like being devoured
wholly in a delicious way.

Hearing the soft tender
voice of a woman roused me. It was the only thing that caused me to
open my heavy eyelids. As I gazed upon the beauty, I realized I
knew her. She was my mother, but she appeared to me as a young
woman–the same age as I. She sang softly to me. Her large soft blue
eyes caressed me along with the gentle touch of her hand smoothing
my forehead.

“My dear, sweet child,”
she said, breaking from the lullaby she sung to me. Her voice alone
was sing-songy and filled with a tenderness that was incased in her
strong Irish accent.

“Why is it you have
nightmares of undead things? You are far too young to be bothered
by such terrible things.” She continued to caress my forehead and
wiped the tears from my eyes. “Hush now, child.”

At that moment, I knew I
was no more than six years old. I had descended to a time when I
was carefree and held onto such wonderful memories. I felt my tiny
body relax in her arms; I knew I was safe.

As I rambled on to my
mother about childish nothings, I caught sight, out of the corner
of my eye, of a man with shoulder length auburn hair and a gentle
smile upon his face. A man that was familiar to me. And although I
spoke to my mother, I kept my eyes on him and like a spark I
remembered who he was–Ezra. He had kept his promise and guided me
into my afterlife. I was to find that I needed him here, wherever I
was–in limbo or heaven–but soon I was about to wonder if I was in
hell.

For what seemed only a
moment, Ezra was in that small room with my Mother and I. He then
faded away as quickly as he had appeared, causing me to believe
that he was only a mirage.

Suddenly, feeling like I
had been jerked out of my child self and free of any corporal body
I was left in an abyss of nonexistence where nothing but pitch
black surrounded me. Feeling detached from any emotions from what
was happening I was neither frightened nor calm.

Unexpectedly, like being
put into fast-forward, I was now at the next key moment in my life.
I found myself standing by the door to my parents’ bedroom. I
peered my head around the door jam and I listened to the priest
give my mother her last rights. Tears streamed down my face. I was
now twenty and nearing the loss of my mother. The lone thought of
it tore at my heart and soul. She was my mentor, my best friend and
I feared I could not live without her.

In the blink of the eye, I
found myself sitting at the end of the bed. I watched as my beloved
mother gave way to her silent courtship with death. She finally let
him take her within his cold grasp and away from her pain. But
within flashes of white light, I saw my mother in the arms of a
man, a monster. Quickly he showed me his silver grin then swooped
in to drink her life away. I then saw my mother lying there,
peacefully, her breathing slowed and her heart began to fail. I
next saw this monster, this vampire, grinning at me with crimson
lips. At a gentle touch on my shoulder, I looked up and my father
looked down at me with sorrowful eyes. Holding firmly onto his hand
for support, my brother Patrick who had no qualms about showing his
despair, stood there with tears streaming down his
cheeks.

Looking back at my mother,
I was grateful that the sight of the vampire was gone. But as soon
as she expelled her last breath, he reappeared and stood beside the
bed, opposite to us. I did not cry out. I did not question who he
was, for I knew who it as and I knew he did not kill my mother. She
had died of natural causes and it was Ezra that played these cruel
tricks and I hated him for that.

As I was about to speak, I
was pulled back into that place again, the abyss of nonexistence
where nothing but pitch black surrounded me. Yet again feeling
devoid of emotions, the emotions that I wanted to feel, needed to
feel–I felt nothing. I did not care.

General memories now
flashed before me. From the moment I experienced as a child in my
mother’s arms to this point, it had felt like I was living my life
again, but not. I was just watching it really, with cold detachment
and a sense of emptiness.

That was the end of the
pleasant memories. I was next to be bombarded with horrid scenes
from my vampire life. And what I saw, what I felt, was nothing that
I would ever forget, yet I prayed that I someday would.

The sensation of icy cold
surrounded me as I felt myself descend again. A cold wind whipped
violently at my body as though frigid fingers poked and prodded me.
For the first time in this afterlife, I was fearful. The cold
stillness bestowed upon me feelings of misery and apprehension,
like being devoured soul and all as I fell into darkness. There
would be no escape from my own personal hell.

The darkness that
surrounded me began to fade. With a flash of bright light, it was
as though I opened my eyes despite I had none. I possessed no body.
And what I laid my sights upon was myself, my vampiric self. Beside
me was Mylana and together we stood on top of a hill. It was the
hill just outside of Dublin, 1795. Approaching us was a group of
brothers. One of them was to be my first kill–David. I watched as
the men approached then witnessed myself walk away with David
having left Mylana with the other two. I trembled in fear as the
drive for blood became the only thing I focused on. It drove me to
continue, luring him closer to me. Watching myself lose control, I
was sickened by what I saw–by what I was. I did not look like
myself. I no longer appeared as a beautiful woman. I was not even a
beautiful creature of nature. I was a demon, trapped in the body of
a dead mortal.

With cold, calculating
eyes, my demonic self looked at me and with crimson stained lips, I
saw my true nature. The vampire demon that haunted me for centuries
was finally exposed. With dark red rimmed eyes, grayish-white skin
that seemed to be cracked and peeling, I was a perfect horror.
Before turning back to feeding, its blood stained lips began to
move, her words mismatched to their movement. And as though
speaking in tongues, it hissed to me.

“Gniog peek. Ereh gnoleb
ton od uoy,” it said, then turned its attention back to David.
Before my incorporeal eyes, it faded into the vampire I knew and
had stared at in the mirror for the past two hundred
years–me.

I was horrified! Was I to
live out for all eternity the horror of my crimes since becoming a
vampire? The cruelty of this hell was as great as the earlier joy
of being in my mother’s arms. To see her again only to be ripped
out of her warm embrace and thrown into this proverbial prison,
made this experience even more hellish.

As the scene with David
played out before me as I remembered it, suddenly, like being
swallowed by darkness, black enveloped my soul. Without warning, a
bright flash of light brought me to my next misery. As it did, the
monster’s words made sudden sense to me: “You don’t belong here,
keep going.” It wasn’t speaking in tongues; it was speaking
backwards. But before I could even ponder on it and what my demonic
self had said, I watched myself feast upon poor Stewart. This time
my memory did not play out before me as I remembered. What was
revealed was an animated version of what my bloodthirsty and brutal
thoughts were at the time.

I saw myself ripping into
his flesh, releasing any blood left from his body, drinking it up
readily, letting it wash over my body, and finally tearing him to
bits in a bloodthirsty frenzy. I remember thinking how I wanted to
bathe in his blood and to drink it without guilt. What I witnessed
looked so real–felt too real–that my old memory began to feel as
though it were a lie.

What actually happened
over two hundred years ago was that I gave in to my thirst after
Mylana killed Stewart, who was to be my lesson: give in to my need
for human blood and release my pain and suffering on them. But I
was too stubborn, too ignorant, believing I could live without
human blood. Being left there alone with Stewart, now dead, I did
give in to my thirst and was disgusted.

Unexpectedly, Stewart
looked at me, at my incorporeal self, with half-opened eyes as my
demonic self fed gluttonously from him. With gurgled, he words
spoke to me.

“Do you hear that? They
are calling you. You do not belong here, keep going,” he said his
words also backwards. Stewart then died in my memory’s arms before
I could ask him what he meant.

Feeling on the verge of
tears but without eyes to release them and no body to wrap my own
arms around for a misguided feeling of protection, I was at a loss.
I was nothing and wished I saw nothing, heard nothing. There was no
true sense of time but it felt as though one hundred years had
already passed. Was I to be forever trapped within this
hell?

When the darkness came
once again, I was grateful and could not help but hope that what I
was about to relive was less painful, less animalistic. But it
wasn’t. With the familiar flash of bright light, I now saw myself
with Brian. This tore at my heart like nothing else had, save for
my mother. Unable to look or run away, I had to watch.

Again, what played out
before me was not what had actually happened. This was much worse,
even though what I had done to Brian was horrendous enough. As I
watched, I quickly learned that he was the vampire. A malicious
grin played on his lips and his fangs gleamed from the light
produced from the kerosene lamps.