Ela: Forever (Waking Forever)

by Heather McVea

  Ela laughed and the melodic sound filled the small room. “Rubbish. You’re no more of the devil than I am.”

  Ela slid next to the shifter and leaned against the wall. “You’re a shifter, your ancestors are lycan, and you are closer to God then any human and their false idols.”

  Lara shook her head furiously. “I don’t understand anything you’re saying, but I know what I am.”

  Ela sighed, wondering if all this back and forth was worth it. Then she remembered the exquisite surge of bliss this woman’s blood would provide her now, and, if she played her cards right, forever. “You know what the ignorant wretches of this godforsaken village have told you. I assure you, that is far from the truth.”

  Ela hopped to her feet. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you, but I would like to take you out of here. Would that be okay?”

  “Why are you helping me?” There was not enough slack in the chain for Lara to stand.

  Ela turned and faced the disheveled woman. “You have something I want.”

  Crouching in front of Lara, Ela reached out her hand to stroke the woman’s cheek. Lara scurried backward and pressed herself against the wall. Ela tisked and stood.

  “It’s a shame what their superstitions have done to you.” In a blink of an eye, Ela severed the shackles on Lara’s ankles and wrists.

  Lara used her hands to push herself up onto her knees. It was clear the absence of mobility had left her legs weak, but she would recover quickly enough. Ela knelt down and slit open her wrist with her thumb nail.

  “I have something you want, too.” Extending her arm toward Lara with a slight nod, Ela waited for the woman to do or say something.

  Lara finally spoke after nearly a minute of silence. “That’s disgusting.”

  Ela chuckled. “Maybe, but you’re still thinking you want it.”

  Nodding toward the blood that now pooled on the dirt floor, Ela continued. “I’ve been told for your kind it smells like the most fragrant flowers you can imagine. And so sweet, it’s almost like candy.”

  Lara looked at Ela's face, and then back at her bloody wrist. Ela grinned as the warmth of the shifter’s lips began to gently suck the blood. Hesitant at first, after only a few seconds, Lara began to eagerly lick and suck the thick red substance.

  When Ela pulled her wrist away, she extended her other hand to Lara and pulled her to her feet. Stroking her cheek, Ela smiled. “Never deny who, and more importantly, what you are.”

  Lara nodded and took a step back from Ela. Extending her arms above her head she stretched out the full length of her frame. Nearly six feet tall, Lara’s back and knees popped after so many years restrained. “Thank you.”

  Ela nodded. “Words are fine, but not for what you have that I want.” Before Lara could respond, Ela had pinned her against the wall and sunk her teeth into the shifter’s neck. Lara cried out and pushed against Ela’s shoulders.

  The euphoria the shifter blood provided began as a gentle caress just behind Ela’s eyes. The caress became a demanding pressure running the length of her spine, and then a burst of heat radiating out from her center. Releasing Lara, who fell to the floor, Ela gasped, licking at her blood soaked lips.

  Her incisors were fully extended, her eyes an intense iridescent blue, as she pulled Lara up by the shoulders. The wound to her neck was already healing as Ela licked at the last remnants of blood.

  “You’re a natural,” Ela whispered against Lara’s neck. A sudden surge of blood rushed through Lara and her skin became hot beneath Ela’s hands.

  The woman pulled away from Ela and hunched over. There was a series of loud cracking sounds as her shoulders and hips dislocated. A mild electrical charge filled the space, and Lara was gone. In her place was a large black and gray dog.

  The animal’s teeth were bared at Ela, who leaned casually against the basement wall.

  “There’s no need for all this fuss. I’m not going to talk to you while you are in that get-up.” The dog growled at Ela. “Don’t you want to know how you can live forever? Free of this place?”

  The animal whimpered quietly and several seconds later, the odor of burning leaves and salt filled the room. Lara stood naked in front of Ela. “Tell me.”

  Ela smiled, her incisors still extended. “I am vampire, and I live forever. You are a shifter, and don’t. But as if by design, your blood is my kind’s favorite, and my blood gives you immortality.” Ela reached for Lara’s hand.

  Lara stared at Ela, her mind racing to process the new knowledge, information that shattered the foundations of her life and opened up a world of endless possibilities. She had been denied the most important kind of freedom: the freedom to be what she really was. Her family had betrayed her time and time again because of their own ignorance. She had betrayed herself by relinquishing her ability to feel because the mask they thrust upon her was easier.

  With the vampire blood coursing through her veins, Lara was awake for the first time in her life. Taking a deep breath, the air filling her lungs, she took Ela’s hand. “Show me.”

  ***

  Lara sat with her legs crossed in a large overstuffed leather chair. She casually flipped through the latest issue of Texas Monthly magazine. She looked over the top of the magazine at Ela who sat across the room at a large rectangular wooden table. Books and papers were stacked around her. “You’ve been promising a rafting trip down the Guadalupe River for over three years now.”

  Ela didn’t look up from her book as she spoke. “As I recall, no specific dates were promised.”

  Lara sighed. “Then let’s set a date.”

  Ela glanced up at Lara and then back at her book. “May tenth.”

  Lara smiled, but then her brow furrowed and she frowned. “What year?”

  Ela chuckled. Lara had been with her for the past ten years and, in spite of Ela’s attempts to remain indifferent to the shifter, they had in fact grown close. Ela looked at the woman and remembered the state she had been in when they first met. There was no trace of that wretched creature in the beautiful, confident woman sitting across from her. Ela’s thoughts were interrupted as Jose entered the study.

  “We’ve had a painting rejected from the States. Here, I’ve jotted down the information, in case you were interested. We probably want to avoid this dealer going forward.”

  Jose handed Ela a small piece of crumpled paper with handwriting scribbled on it. “We went through our usual channels, but when it got to this wholesaler, they declined delivery because there wasn’t provenance for the Portinari. I understand it was a fairly heated exchange between her and Tosha. Evidently she wanted to report Tosha.”

  “A scrupulous art dealer? That’s a dying breed.” Ela didn’t look up as she continued to read a first edition of Machiavelli’s The Prince. She made a note in the margin with a pen.

  “It was a piece from São Paulo.” Jose took a black leather bound accounting ledger he had tucked under his arm out and flipped through to the book’s mid-point. “We have alternate channels; so it’s not a loss, just a delay.”

  Ela looked up at the short man, squinted, and thought to herself it was a shame that vampires didn’t grow after turning. Jose was attractive, but at only five feet tall, his beauty was lost. “São Paulo? Isn’t that the job that got some press because the fools you sent didn’t pace themselves?”

  Ela flipped to another page in her book. “As I recall, they moved through the building so quickly the cameras barely tracked them and the authorities estimated the entire thing took less than four minutes.”

  Jose looked down and focused more intently on the ledger. “Yes.”

  Ela shook her head. “Fools.” Sighing, she finally glanced at the crumpled paper. Scrawled in Jose’s nearly illegible handwriting were the words Art Concepts, Inc. Rachel Collins.

  She felt a prickling of heat at the base of her neck and down her spine. She gasped and sat bolt upright in her chair. “What city was this?”

  Jose furrowed his brow, unclear why
Ela was taking an interest in this particular issue. They frequently had galleries refuse shipment if the proper certificates weren’t present. “San Antonio, Texas.”

  Ela stood up and laid the slip of paper on the desk, carefully smoothing it flat. Standing with her hands on either side of it, she stared. “She hasn’t even changed her name.” Ela's eyes began to glow. “Get me an address.”

  Jose turned his head and looked more closely at the paper. “Who hasn’t changed her-” Jose was brought to his knees as Ela took his throat in her right hand.

  Without looking away from the paper, Ela growled through clenched teeth. “Address.” She released Jose who immediately took several steps away from her.

  “Yes–yes, ma’am.” In a split second, he was gone.

  Lara got up from her chair and walked to Ela. She stood behind the vampire with her hands on her shoulders. “What is it?”

  “Rachel.”

  Ela sat down, and crossing her legs, stared at the paper. She hadn’t imagined it would come to her in such a simple and uneventful way. After so many years of hunting Rachel, she had pictured the revelation of her location as something earth shattering and triumphant. In the end, it was a simple piece of crumpled paper that was propelling her further toward her fate.

  ***

  It was two-thirty in the afternoon, and raining. Ela sat in a Starbucks across the street from a non-descript brick and stucco building that housed a series of small boutique shops.

  The GPS in her rented Mercedes said this neighborhood was called Stone Oak. She never understood the naming conventions in the United States. The neighborhood on the north side of San Antonio had neither an abundance of stones and the shrub-like trees were hardly oaks.

  She stared, unblinking, at one of the storefronts across the way that did not have a sign. A small brass plate with the number 32 engraved on its face was all Ela could see.

  “How are you doing today?” A tall, dark haired man in his mid-twenties, dressed in khaki shorts and a green t-shirt with the word Baylor scrolled across it in yellow, sat down at the table next to Ela. He put an iced coffee down and pulled an iPad from a leather backpack.

  Without looking away from the brass plate, Ela sighed. “No.”

  “I’m sorry?” The man hesitated as he took a sip of his coffee.

  Besides attempting to distract her, Ela found the man annoying for any number of reasons. Not the least of which was her inherent suspicion of anyone who drank their coffee through a green straw. “No. No, I won’t talk to you. No, I won’t exchange email addresses. No, we aren’t going to be friends on Facebook. No.”

  Choking on his coffee, the man wiped at his chin with a napkin. “Look, lady, I was just being polite. You’ve been sitting over here alone for over an hour, and I thought maybe you could use the company.”

  Without looking at the man, Ela’s tone was flat. “I’m sure a courtesy you would pay a male patron as well.”

  “Screw this.” The agitated man picked up his iPad and nearly dropped his coffee moving several tables over. He sat so his back was to Ela while he muttered to himself. “Bitch.”

  Ela smirked and felt the familiar tickle of heat forming at the base of her neck as the door to number thirty-two opened. A man in his late fifties, with thin grey hair and dressed in what Ela recognized as a two thousand dollar Kiton suit, walked out with an umbrella in hand. Just when Ela thought her waiting had been for nothing, a woman wearing an equally expensive black Gucci pant suit walked through the door behind the man.

  Rachel had shoulder length chestnut colored hair, with hints of auburn throughout. Even from this distance, Ela could see the intensity of her green eyes, along with the perfect angular proportion of her cheekbones and jaw line. Her skin was pale and flawless, and she was even more beautiful than Ela remembered.

  Closing her eyes, Ela focused her attention toward Rachel and the human. “I’m glad I was able to find another Portinari for you, Mr. Anslow.” Even from nearly thirty yards away, Rachel’s voice was smooth and melodic to Ela’s ears.

  “Yes. I appreciate your efforts, and I understand your hesitancy on the first piece.” Mr. Anslow looked out from under the awning that covered the shops entrance. “Glad I thought to bring this.”

  He opened the umbrella and took several steps toward a white Jaguar. “I can expect delivery next week then?”

  Rachel nodded. “Tuesday, assuming the check clears.”

  The man started laughing. “Knack for finding obscure art and a sense of humor. Are you sure you aren’t looking to get married, Rachel?”

  “I might lose my sense of humor if I got married, Mr. Anslow.” Rachel smiled.

  “That is so true. Just ask my wife.” Closing the umbrella, the man got into the Jaguar. Before shutting the door, he waved to Rachel. “Take care.”

  Rachel, backing toward the shop door, returned the wave. “You too.”

  Ela opened her eyes. Rachel had gone back into number thirty-two, and Ela fought the urge to charge across the street and end her immediately. It seemed almost fitting that on some idle Monday afternoon, when she least expected it, Rachel should die. Almost.

  Ela had plans for Rachel, and now that she had found her, she meant to prolong the hunt for just a while longer.

  ***

  She’s going for a run? Ela had been following Rachel for two days and was bored out of her mind. It was painfully clear that her former lover had embraced all the trappings of humanity, clinging to them in a desperate act of defiance against her actual nature.

  Ela had sat perched outside Rachel’s living room window for over three hours the previous night while Rachel actually balanced her checkbook, talked on the phone, and watched a television program that appeared to be predicated on the assumption people were interested in how things like soap, porcelain flatware, and clothes hangers are made.

  Now Rachel had driven her black BMW 640i to a park in the middle of San Antonio and was jogging along a series of wooded trails. Ela remained in the tree line and was careful to minimize her movements to avoid detection. She was hoping Rachel’s running was a cover for hunting, but it became clear as she ran past several unaccompanied humans that she had no intention of feeding on any of them.

  By Ela’s reckoning, Rachel was lonely. This realization left a foul taste in her mouth, because loneliness was a human condition, something their kind cultivated as the pretense for why they needed each other.

  Ela was contemplating the tragedy of Rachel’s immortality when Rachel suddenly increased her speed significantly, veered off the trail, and in a series of quick bursts of speed was half-way across the park in seconds.

  When Ela caught up with Rachel, she was kneeling next to a tall, lean, blonde woman who was lying disheveled just off the running path. Ela could smell the blood and smiled, believing Rachel was feeding on the woman. This proved not to be the case as Ela heard Rachel talking to the human.

  “You were attacked, but he’s gone and the police are on their way. Try to stay still, okay?” Rachel’s voice was low and comforting. “What’s your name?”

  Ela grimaced at the show of concern as the human managed a whispered response. “Sara.” Ela bit her lower lip as the woman wiped at the thickening blood covering her face and neck.

  Rachel released the woman’s hand and moved back. “I’m going to step away from you for a minute.” Her voice was strained and sounded thicker than before. Ela’s eyes glowed an iridescent blue in the darkness of the trees. Believing Rachel was too weak to feed on the human, Ela waited to lunge toward the woman. Why should she go to waste?

  “Please. Stay.” Sara grabbed for Rachel. “I just... please.” Then she was unconscious, and Rachel, to Ela’s horror, did not feed on her. Instead, Rachel removed the thin running jacket she was wearing, knelt down next to Sara, and gently placed the jacket under the human’s head.

  Then, to further convince Ela of how pathetic her existence was, Rachel took the woman’s hand and gently patted her forearm
in what Ela vaguely recalled as a sign of affection.

  Ela’s body tensed with rage and disgust. Rachel actually cared about humans. She had interacted with that man at her shop as if he were her equal. She made conversation with him and laughed at his jokes. Now she knelt next to a helpless woman and instead of taking from her what was Rachel’s divine right, she coddled and consoled her.

  Taking a step forward, Ela meant to end Rachel then and there, but was thwarted when two police cars pulled between her and her intended victim. Ela watched from a distance as Rachel spoke with the officers. An ambulance arrived several minutes later, and a small crowd of humans began to gather near where the woman had been attacked. Ela wanted to take her time ending Rachel, and now that opportunity was ruined.

  After nearly an hour, Rachel left the crowd of onlookers and officials. Once safely out of view, she navigated toward her car in seconds. Ela followed at a safe distance. Rachel got in her car and sat perfectly still for over twenty minutes. Her eyes were fixed on a point in the distance Ela couldn’t identify. Finally Rachel shook her head, started her car, and drove toward the park exit.

  Ela stepped out of the shadows and stood under a street lamp. Looking in the direction Rachel had driven, she considered her options. She had assumed Rachel had made a life for herself. That she was part of a clan or at least had taken a mate. The reality was Rachel’s existence was nearly absent of any meaningful interaction.

  Ela felt a wave of remorse and regret wash over her as she hung her head. The hope that had flourished in her for over a half century was rooted in killing the things Rachel loved. To rip apart her world apart, piece by piece, and then, in the final throngs of misery, end her. Apparently, there was very little to rip apart.

  Ela took a deep breath, the odors of a large city permeating her senses. Over a million humans, their waste, pollutants from their vehicles, and rotted food, along with the weight of disappointment, caused Ela’s stomach to turn.

  She walked back toward her car, shoulders slouched. She was resigned to reveal herself to Rachel and then end her. There was very little sport in it at this point. The anticipation was over, the conclusion forgone.