Hathor nodded at him, opening her mind to him so that he may read all that was inside of her. Servaes felt his heart thud in time with hers. Her love was there for him, pure and sweet and innocent. He was afraid that if he took her, as he must, he would kill some of that innocence.
Hathor gasped as his lips closed around her. His teeth pierced her skin with liquid fire. He drank deeply from her, feeling the life of her body, her soul, as it flowed into him. He stole her mortality into himself. He felt her love all around him. She moaned lightly against his greedy lips, but Servaes didn’t stop. His eyes closed to everything, closed to Jirí who watched silently from the sidelines. He lowered her down as he drank. Then it was over. Hathor dropped from his arms to land gently on the ground, completely drained but for a drop.
Her eyes were closed, and her lungs filled with shallow air. Servaes stared at her sweet face, drained of color and life. He saw the bloody wound he afflicted on her neck.
"You must give her life, Servaes. Give her back her blood from your body," Jirí instructed quietly. Servaes needed no instruction. He knew what he must do.
Falling to his knees, Servaes bit into his wrist, slashing it open with a violent pull. Blood spilled over him, pouring from the wound in his fattened veins onto Hathor’s face. Her lips moved slowly to gasp. He hesitated only once as he pushed his wrist to her mouth. He felt his heart lurch painfully.
He gave her life back to her -- her blood empowered by his own. By small degrees, her strength returned. Her lips sought his wrist. Her eyes shot open, filled crimson with blood. Servaes let her have it, let her take however much she wanted from him.
"It is enough, Servaes. Do not give too much of yourself or you will be too weak to take her to your coffin." When Servaes didn’t stop, Jirí rushed forward and pried them apart. Louder, he demanded, "It is enough, Servaes! If you give her everything, you will take in her death! You will die!"
Servaes fell weakly to the side, not caring if he did die. Hathor screeched as an intense pain shot through her body. Her legs flailed toward the ground, striking her feet on the brick. A scream was wrought from her chest, loud and piercing in its agony. Servaes saw his blood staining her face and trailing in rivulets down her neck. Her eyes rolled back in her head until only the whites showed from under her lashes.
"What is wrong with her?" Servaes questioned sharply. He glanced at Jirí, too spent to move from the ground.
"She is dying. It happens to us all," Jirí answered quietly. Hathor’s eyes cleared. She looked first at Jirí and then to Servaes on the ground beside her. Her body stiffened with searing anguish, but she didn’t scream. Her eyes focused on Servaes’ face. He could see her trying to smile for him, trying to hide her pain. He was not fooled. He could feel it in her.
Jirí leaned over, stroking her hair gently from her face as she writhed in horrendous foreboding. Her body convulsed beneath his hand. Spit traveled from her mouth across her cheek, mixed pink with blood. Jirí was unconcerned. He had seen the changing before. He pushed his fingernail into his wrist, letting a drop of his blood fall onto her gasping mouth. Her eyes shot open in surprise at the gift. The blood lessened her pain by a small degree. Lightly, he said to her, "Welcome my brave daughter. If ever you have a need of me, I will hear your call."
Jirí stood. His eyes found Servaes on the ground. His son’s face was turned up to the stars in torment, his body hardly moved.
Hate me no more, my son, Servaes heard Jirí whisper down to him. He didn’t turn to look at his father. Harbor me no ill will.
The old vampire’s eyes turned from the couple. Jirí walked away, gliding across the rooftop without effort. He heard Hathor’s writhing screams, felt her blood turning. It was not nearly over for her, and he didn’t want to stay and watch. Jirí didn’t look back again as he jumped into the night sky. Within the flash of a shooting star, he was gone.
Chapter Twenty One
The lonely whistling of the wind as it brushed over weathered stones was the only sound intruding over the Bloody Tower’s rooftop, broken by Hathor’s soft whimpers as she tried to fight her pain. The sparkling diamonds in the sky shone down over the couple, marred slightly by city lights. Hathor moaned again, tears coming unbidden from her wide eyes as she began to cry out. Her heart squeezed in her chest. Her lungs refused to fill with air until she suffocated. She could sense her limbs tightening with muscles, growing stronger as her insides grew weaker.
Servaes scrambled quickly to his knees, his body feeling odd as he crawled over to Hathor. Her body continued to lurch with death. Her hands flung wide only to draw forward into her chest once more. She curled into a ball, fighting the pain, bearing through it. A weak moan left her lips and then another. Servaes realized it was his name.
He reached a trembling hand to her forehead, touching it lightly in a gentle caress. He knew that her pain was of his doing. He hated himself for it.
Without warning, Servaes felt an ache deep inside himself. At first it was a dull thud in his stomach, and then it became a sharp sensation cursing through this blood. His body lurched as if it might vomit. He knew it was impossible, but his body spasmed, spewing blood out over the top of the roof. He felt the warm fluid leaving him as he continued to heave.
Jirí, his mind called out, confused. No words left his mouth as he fell away from Hathor.
Hathor felt Servaes leave her. She felt his pain as it compacted onto her own. Turning her head to him, her hand reached out to find his. As flesh pressed into dying flesh, a flash of white light surrounded them, thickened by the roaring of water. With a glimmer of time, she was back with him on the docks only to pass forward, sharing every instant of his vampire life in accelerated speed. Some of it passed so quickly she couldn’t remember every detail. Servaes was there too, remembering it. They watched it like a show, feeling the same thing tearing a heated trail through them, making them moan with the pain of it -- an endless flash of faces and places, libraries and old hotels, death and rebirths. When his images finally stopped, she knew she saw everything -- every century, every second he had lived since his death.
Then it was her life that flashed, though more quickly since she hadn’t lived as long. Servaes watched every moment from her birth to her human death beside him now. Through their pain, some memories were lost. But there were no secrets between them. Their minds were joined completely as were their bodies.
As the last instant faded, they were left weak beside each other. The pain slowly drained from their limbs, leaving them spent. Servaes felt like a newborn, weak and untried. Hathor could barely force her limbs to move as she stared blindly at the moon above their heads.
She could feel her hair and nails growing from the death of her organs. The reddish tresses formed around her face becoming shiny. Her cheeks pulled and thinned against her bones. She felt her stomach tighten before it painfully tugged. She rolled over to the side, lifting herself as she retched next to Servaes blood. Her body convulsed and stiffened. She wanted to cry. Her tears would no longer fall. Her eyes stayed dry.
"Am I dead?" she managed at last. Resting on her hands and knees, her head bowed low. She fell over to the side.
"Yes," Servaes answered. Something was not right. He didn’t feel well. But he could perceive her worry and didn’t want to alarm her. With a force he knew not that he possessed, he pushed himself up next to her and gathered her into his arms. Her pale face looked at him, beautiful and drawn. She wanted to hold him, but her body lay still. She contented herself with looking at him.
"It is done?" she asked, closing her eyes as he lifted her up into his firm embrace. Servaes hooked his arm beneath her legs, carrying her before his chest.
"Yes, my love, it is done. We are forever," he murmured against her hair. "Now let us find your rest. You must hunt tomorrow."
Hathor nodded. Whispering, she hushed, "Stay with me."
"Always." A shiver ran up his spine, even as he said the word. He knew that they were still in danger. The council could s
till come after them both. But, if it was her fate to die again, then he would die with her. Their destiny was joined.
Her eyes closed as she fell asleep. Hathor nestled her head into his shoulder, his name a murmur on her delicately parted lips. Servaes lifted her up, their bodies swirling with the moonlight as they drifted together through the dark, abandoned city streets. His arms were weak with a powerless pull, his movements not as swift. He pushed on through the night to their bed.
As Servaes moved, he couldn’t detect the motionless figure watching them from high on a surrounding tower. The vampire sat, surveying the immortal play before him like cryptic gargoyle. The figure’s dark green cloak whipped about him, blending into the darkness, invisible to all but the stars. The old fingers pressed together to steeple under an aged chin. Slowly, a smile formed on his lips, only to disappear as the vampire blew undetected into the night wind.
As he swirled away, one thought left his mind, like the sweet lost melody of a song, hope.
* * * *
Servaes whisked Hathor to the safety of his coffin. He had no choice but to take her past the other vampires as he sped through the Vampire Club. He was aware of the stares he received from the others. He didn’t stop to acknowledge their questioning glances shooting behind him.
Ginger glared defiantly, her eyes bore brazen and outraged. She grimaced in anger when she smelled Hathor’s change. Baring her fangs, she growled viciously, but was helpless against the fate of the once mortal woman.
Lamar tried to step forward to stop Servaes from passing through. But a hand on his arm stopped him. Jirí came from the shadows, undetected by them until that moment. With a soft shush, he shook his head.
"You are all ordered by the tribal council to leave her be. She is one of you now, and you cannot touch her lest you break the sacred laws of our kind." Jirí didn’t need to say more. The young ones glowered in anger, disappearing into a fine mist as they sought their beds. When they were gone, Jirí looked around at the decadent club, hating everything the place stood for. The young ones didn’t understand the power they had been given. They didn’t understand the gift or the curse. But, mayhap, Servaes had been right. They were a product of their time. The humans no longer understood either. Most of them didn’t even believe.
Shaking his head in disgust, Jirí mumbled under his breath as he left. He was tired. He wanted to sleep. Only duty to his tribe as their acting leader kept him awake so long. He knew that until Vladamir returned to claim his place, he wouldn’t be relieved of his duties. Part of him had hoped that Servaes would take over for him. It would never be. He saw that now. As he walked across the hollow stone floor, out the passageway into the streets, he whispered with a tired sigh, "I want to go home."
* * * *
His bedchamber was dark when Servaes arrived in it. He didn’t bother to light the fireplace as he laid Hathor into his coffin. He settled beside her and curled around her body, pulling her next to him where she would be kept safely and soothingly in his arms. She shivered, opening her eyes to look at him.
Servaes gave her a reassuring wink. He wearily closed the lid on top of them, casting their bodies into the sanctuary of darkness, safe from the light of the sun. She smiled contentedly, despite her depleted state. Servaes felt his heart beat happily that she was completely his. His joy was tainted only somewhat with regret.
That night as they slept, instead of the dreamless void that was expected, they both dreamt of ancient skies filled with stone carved birds. Neither of them could understand, only watch as the stone turned into an animal flying off into the brilliant sunlit sky.
* * * *
The murky passageways leading beneath the city streets were painted black with darkness. The vampires didn’t mind as they skirted through, using the power of their eyes to see each bend and curve of their way. Their feet drifted soundlessly above the stone walk, not dirtying themselves in the puddles of stagnant water that pooled beneath them.
Ginger held up her hand. Her pink hair was slicked back over her head, pulled out of her eyes. The black leather of her outfit hugged every nuance of her perfect body. Turning to the side, she motioned for her companions to stop. Her eyes glowed, but she said nothing as she motioned to them with her hands. She sniffed the air, smiling cruelly as she did. Then, tilting her jaw, she waved for her cohorts to continue.
Lamar handed her a brick before turning to grab several more from behind him. Vincent carried a bucket of wet mortar, setting in on the ground as if it was nothing. Quickly, they set to work, sealing the door of Servaes’ chamber like a tomb.
What if he can push through? Vincent thought. He will not be pleased.
He won’t, Ginger shot back with her mind. Even her thoughts sounded like whining dissatisfaction. He has not fed yet tonight. He sleeps. And he is weak from changing the human whore. Once he discovers he is locked in, he will feed on her, taking her life so that he may be strong enough to escape. We might not be able to touch her, but he can. He won’t have a choice.
Vincent and Lamar chuckled lightly. They hastily completed their work without detection. The wall they constructed was three feet thick when they finished, compiled of nothing but rock and quick-drying mortar. Ginger let loose an open-mouth howl as she screamed defiantly at the barricade, cursing the couple sleeping inside. The others laughed. The devious sound could be heard echoing the passageway as they made their way to dine.
* * * *
Servaes jolted awake at the sound of evil laughter. His eyes blinked hard. His body was overly sore. Pushing up the lid of the coffin when he detected the night, he threw his hand over to the fireplace, lighting it with his will. His ears strained to listen to the sound that still rang in his ears. Easily, he came out of his coffin.
Good night, Servaes.
Servaes froze. He heard Ginger’s words clearly in his head. Hathor’s eyes shot open, looking pale and frantic as she gazed up at him. He rushed to the door, pushing at the heavy oak wood. It didn’t move under his strength.
Hathor pulled herself up, watching him curiously from their bed. Her lethargic senses slow to take in what was happening. She too heard Ginger’s ominous laughter in her mind, but she couldn’t see the woman.
"Servaes?" she mumbled. "What is it?"
"Ginger has locked us within these walls," he answered curtly. He braced his shoulder against the door, trying again to push on it. He used all his strength yet the door wouldn’t budge. A fierce growl left his lips.
Hathor grew scared. Her round eyes swam with a cloudy visage. Her pale lips parted as she watched him. Servaes left off forcing the door and turned to study her intently. In many ways she was the same, beautifully innocent. But her skin was pale and tight against her face. Her hair was longer, trailing in delectable waves down her back past her shoulders, curling around the sides of her breasts. The locks were of a shiny auburn. Her body had become lean and was more graceful. Her eyes had changed, too. They took on a supernatural shine, mingling with power and strength, swirling in a pattern of different colors.
The hunger hadn’t come to her yet. It was odd that it should be so. But Servaes had no doubt that it would come. When it did, it would be fierce and painful for her if he couldn’t feed her, and soon after the pain would come death -- her death.
"Why would she trap us? What does this mean?" Hathor asked, fearfully. She crawled from the coffin, forcing herself to stand before him. Her face stared at Servaes calmly.
"It means we are trapped," he stated. "It means that we cannot feed. If we cannot feed, then we will grow weak. The bloodlust will take over, and we will attack each other. One of us will die."
As he looked at her, Hathor knew that it would be her. He was much older than she was. He knew how to wield his powers. She could see that he knew it also. Shamefully, he turned his back on her.
"Why couldn’t you have stayed away from me?" he sighed darkly. His words were a tortured denial of everything around them. "You should have listened. Now you will die
anyway, and I will be alone."
Servaes had tasted one night of happiness with her next to him. He had been given one night without loneliness. And now, because of the envy of others, it would be taken away from him. He would live for an eternity knowing that he was the one who killed her.
"I will not blame you," she whispered, sensing his pain. She went to him, laying a hand on his tense shoulder. Her smile sought to draw out his. She was not successful. "I would give my life for you. I have given my life for you. I will never regret a moment. And neither shall you. I chose this path. I chose you."
"When the time comes, I want you to drink from me. I want you to take my life. I will not fight you. Then you will have my strength. You will be able to move the door. Go above to the streets and use your mind to call for Jirí," Servaes instructed, not completely convinced it would be so. His fingers dug into her arms painfully when she thought to deny him. Commandingly, he said, "You will do this. Jirí will protect and help you."
"No, I won’t," she said without pause. "I will call for Jirí now. He can come open the door."
"No, we are too far under the earth. Jirí has left for far away and will not hear you," Servaes answered. "Do you not understand? We are condemned to die!"
Suddenly, Hathor’s face contorted. She shook her head angrily. "I will not give up now. I have gone through too much to roll over and die again. I will not be forced to kill you. There is no point in an eternity without you. All right, fine. You don’t want to kill me. I will not eat you. Then we will both die, or we will both live."
"But, the bloodlu --" Servaes began
Hathor held up her hand. "Damn the bloodlust! I don’t care. If all we can do is wait, than I say we wait. They will have to check on us sometime, will they not?"
"Oui," Servaes grinned. He couldn’t help himself. Her attitude surprised him, made him forget what they faced. "But we should conserve our energy, my sweet chéri."
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