The Vampire Legacy III; Familiar Souls (4 page)

Michael got up from the comfortable
bed, and realized, as he looked down at himself, that he was naked.
As he glanced around the room once again, looking for anything that
might resemble a closet, he found a pile of clothing sitting on a
chair, close enough to the fire to keep them warm.

Once dressed, he walked out of the room
and made his way down the long hallway, towards the stairway at the
end of it. Michael's brown eyes looked at everything, taking in
every inch of this new place. He didn't want to miss a thing in
case it was a dream. Once down the stairs, he moved through the
house until he found the dining room. His guard was up and he
seemed poised for action. This room was very brightly lit and he
spotted the food on the table. Slowly, he made his way over, being
very cautious about hiding spots.

As Michael hovered over the food, just
looking at it, smelling every plateful, he failed to notice the man
that walked up behind him, until he heard the heels of boots click
together loudly. Michael straightened and turned very slowly to
look at this new person.

He was tall, and very well built; his
features looked ageless, not a wrinkle on them, but Michael guessed
that he had to be at least forty. Michael stood straight then
tugged at his shirt as the man smiled at him. The man cleared his
throat and walked over to the table, where he pulled himself a
chair and sat down. Michael watched him with caution, and then
moved slowly over to accept the chair that he was offering to him.
He looked at the man's dark hair and eyes, the wide bridge of his
nose, the thick black mustache, and the way that his lips curled
into a smile that was hidden just under the very ends of his
mustache.

"I see you've found your way around
quite nicely." The man's deep, authoritative voice boomed through
the silence of the hall, loud enough to make Michael jump in his
seat. "How do you feel? Has your wound healed nicely?"

"My...wound?" Michael questioned, and
then suddenly remembered that he had been dying of a gunshot wound
to his abdomen. Michael stood, quickly, and lifted his shirt. There
was no scar, no bandage. He patted his stomach several times then
suddenly sat down at the table once again, the look of utter shock
written plainly across his face. "I should be dying. Wait,” he said
and looked at the man, "am I dead?"

"No, my boy, you're not dead." He
laughed and fixed himself a plate of the raw looking meat that was
set down in front of him. Michael watched him eat, the blood gravy
that had formed on the plate, dripped off the fork every time he
took a bite and it made Michael realize how hungry he really was.
"Oh, excuse my manners." The man said suddenly, making Michael look
up from the blood plate. He looked at the man, whose chin seemed to
drip from the juices of the meat. "Cristian, Justin, come in
here."

Michael turned to see two young men,
about his age, step into the room. One of them was a bit taller
than the other; otherwise, they almost looked alike.

"What's your name, Boy?" The man
asked.

"Michael." He said faintly, not taking
his eyes off the new arrivals.

"Ah, a fine name. Michael, this is
Cristian Kingston," He pointed to the shorter of the two, who bowed
then looked at Michael. His eyes were a light brown, very
thoughtful, but also holding a very dark secret behind them.
Cristian looked quickly from Michael, as if reading his mind, and
stared at the fireplace beside him. "And, this is Justin
Tudorian."

Michael looked up at the taller one,
whose eyes seemed such a dark brown color that they were almost
black. This one held nothing back, showing Michael a darker side of
himself just by looking at him with those black eyes. Michael
watched him nod, also, but his lips curled up into a sly sort of
smile.

"They are my students, as I would like
you to be." The man looked at Cristian, and waved him away, then
looked at Justin and nodded. Michael watched as the two of them
disappeared and he looked back at this man. "My name, dear boy, is
Charles Creekson, and may I ask, how old are you?"

"Sixteen." Michael replied. Charles
nodded and pointed at Michael's plate, which Michael also looked at
and realized that it was full of food.

"Such a young age for a man to be off
to war." Charles said as he watched Michael eat. "Why would your
father agree to that?"

"My parents are dead." Michael replied,
quietly.

"I see." He answered and sat forward,
folding his hands on the table. "Did you believe that going off to
war would help ease your loss? Maybe, lessen the need for revenge
against something?"

"I thought that if I was fighting for a
cause, then I wouldn't be quite so alone." Michael replied, not
looking at him. "But, I found out that I wasn't all that fond of
killing someone that I didn't know."

"So, you believe that if you knew them,
it would make it better, easier to kill them?" He
questioned.

Michael shook his head. "No." He
paused, trying to think of a good reason, but he could think of
nothing and looked at Charles, with anger on his face. "I'm just a
coward, plain and simple. I ran away, leaving everyone that I knew
to die and the problem is I never want to go back."

"You're not a coward, you're just
thinking about your future. This war will end, just like every
other war, and people will be dead on both sides, and not all that
much will have been accomplished, except families will have lost
children, husbands, and fathers. Don't be ashamed, Boy, I would
have done the same thing, and have, many times before." Charles
replied. Michael glanced back at his dish, knife in one hand, fork
in the other, and looked back at him.

"How many wars have you been in?"
Michael asked. Charles, seeing to realize that he slipped on his
choice of words, shrugged it off.

"A story for another time, perhaps.
Finish your dinner, Boy, and then come out onto the porch." Charles
got up from the table and left Michael to sit there and finish the
large meal in front of him.

His eyes opened slowly, as daylight
began to pour into the room. Michael ran his hands over his eyes
and down his face, and then he stretched and threw the covers off
from himself. He stood, and then grabbed a pair of jeans, slipped
them on and headed downstairs for brunch.

Ashley sat at the table, her small son
ran around in the grass just beyond the patio, where she was
reading a newspaper. Michael's presence didn't slip passed her as
she looked up just as he stepped out. They were connected by blood,
Michael having made Ashley a vampire when she lay dying of wounds
that had been inflicted on her during a run in with Victor and her
late husband. She looked at him, at his worried face, as he sat
down at the table across from her.

"You haven't heard from them, have
you?" Ash, as they called her, asked him, softly.

"No." He said, quietly, and took a roll
from the plate in front of him. "I probably won't until tonight at
the very least."

"I've never seen you quite this
distracted before." Ash whispered as she reached across the table
and took his hand. "What's on your mind?"

"The last time I saw them." He smiled
softly, and then looked up at her. "It was such a long time ago,
what if they've forgotten?"

"They are part of you, Mike; they're
not going to forget you, ever." She smiled at him. "You said that
they were protecting each other; so, believe in your heart that
they will come here, to protect you."

"I don't want them to protect me, Ash.
I want to protect them. I want them to see who they're connected
too, but what if it turns out that they hate each
other?"

"What happened between you and Justin,
Mike, happened a long time ago. He's probably already forgotten it,
why can't you?" She questioned. He forgot that she was connected to
him, that she could see what he felt, what he thought, if he let
her and right then he was thinking about the last time that he and
Justin were together.

"I don't believe you!" Justin said as
he stormed into Michael's room. The two of them looked at each
other. Michael could see the fire in his blood brother's eyes.
Michael was eighteen then, a new vampire, along with Justin and
Cristian, and the three of them had made a pact and became blood
brothers shortly after Charles had taken Michael in.

"Excuse me?" Michael said and stood up
from his chair. He walked over and stood in front of Justin. "Would
you mind explaining to me exactly what I have supposedly done to
make you not believe me?"

"You took her!" Justin said, suddenly.
Michael looked at him, with confusion in his eyes. "Jescinda! You
took her blood."

"No, Justin, I did nothing of the
sort." Michael replied. "Besides, you're the one that's madly in
love with her, why would I even touch her?"

"Because, you're jealous!" Justin
barked at him.

"I beg your pardon!" Michael said, once
again. "I don't think so."

"Explain to me then, dear brother of
mine, how your scent is all over her, how she moans out your name,
now, even as we speak, in her dreams? Tell me, why you smell of her
and what you did to make her come to you."

"I assure you, I have no idea what
you're talking about." Michael said and shrugged. "I don't even
like the girl, and would surely never touch her like
that."

"I don't believe you." Justin told him,
through clenched teeth and a snarl on his face.

"You may believe what you wish, but I
know that I'm telling the truth." Michael reassured him. Justin
leaped towards him, pushing him against the wall, and held him
there with such force that Michael could barely move.

"Prove it!" He said, angrily, to
Michael, spitting in his face as he spoke. "Prove to me that you've
never touched her. If you have nothing to hide, you will let me do
it."

"I have nothing to hide." Michael said
and bared his neck for Justin, but as the blood began to flow
between them, Michael's memories betrayed him.

He could see the blood haze that
covered his eyes when he hadn't fed in the allowed amount of time.
Charles had told them to feed at least every seven days. It had
been two weeks for Michael.

He was prowling the woods, looking for
some lost animal that might have strayed from its family, and what
he came upon was Jescinda, who bathed naked by the stream. She was
humming and ringing out her hair, trying to get any excess water
from it, when he walked up and took her. He kissed her and caressed
her, as he brought her into a trance-like state, but as he seduced
her, he made sure she knew exactly who she was doing this
with.

He drank from her, filling his need,
both sexually and physically, and he left her there, quite beside
herself, and amused, to find some other pray. Justin tore away from
Michael, who was looking at his brother with a good amount of shock
on his face.

"I didn't remember!" Michael said in
his defense. Justin, whose chin was covered in blood, backed slowly
away from Michael. "I swear to you, on our blood, that I didn't
remember any of it, until now, when you showed me that I was
wrong."

"You betrayed me!" Justin said, and
pointed at him, his fangs bared as his eyebrows came together when
his face seemed to distort in anger. "I loved her, and you
desecrated her body, you took from her veins and now I should kill
you for it."

"Do as you feel you must, Justin."
Michael said and watched as Justin backed out of the room, the fire
in his eyes glowed bright red. When the door closed, when Justin's
menacing presence was away from his room, Michael collapsed on the
floor and cried.

"What have I done?" He asked himself,
over and over, as the tears flowed down his cheek. "What have I
done?"

Cristian had come to him later on that
evening, wondering if he had seen Justin, or knew of his
whereabouts, but Michael could do nothing but stare at the wall.
Cristian left him there, after asking what could be wrong at least
a dozen times without an answer, and Michael made a decision. That
night he slipped away, leaving the three of them behind, knowing
that Justin would stay only if Michael left.

Michael looked over at the door as
Julian stepped out onto the patio. He walked over and kissed Ashley
quickly, checking to see if the boy was watching, then backed away
from her when Jack, the toddler, ran up to him. Julian sat at the
table and looked over at Michael, the boy in his lap, and he
smiled.

"You look distracted." Julian said then
shook his head. "Of course, you're distracted, forgive
me."

"No, it's quite all right." Michael
said and took Jack's outstretched hand. "I was just thinking about
the others."

"About Cristian?" Julian
asked.

"No, someone else." Michael
replied.

"So,” Ash said and looked at him,
Michael looked at her quickly and smiled. "You never really told me
about how you became a vampire."

"Funny." Julian spoke up. "He never
really told me either."

"I never told you?" Michael asked.
Julian shook his head. "Strange, I thought with your curiosity that
it might have slipped out before. It's really a long and boring
story."