by Gayla Twist
Hurrying out of our suite, I immediately launched into the sky. If my suspicions were correct, then Haley had gone to check out the replenishing pools. And that was the very last place I wanted her to be. Contrary to their fairly innocuous sounding name, the replenishing pools were actually fissures of molten lava. World weary vampires would go to the replenishing pools to dunk themselves into the lava, having most of their flesh burned away. Then they would be yanked out by a safety harness and spend an extended amount of time in a spa-like atmosphere re-growing their flesh and hair.
The replenishing pools were for the undead who had grown so weary of eternal life that they were considering ending it all. Being dunked in lava was supposed to be a way of shedding one’s old life and experiencing a rebirth. I wasn’t sure having layers of flesh and muscle burned away was the equivalent of refreshing one’s soul, but there were plenty of undead testimonials claiming that the replenishing pools had given the participant a new lease on life.
As I approached the pools, I saw that there was a lovely vampiress being readied to take the plunge. The woman was so lovely, with flowing chestnut hair and large violet eyes. Just looking at her, it was difficult to imagine that she would ever want to do such a thing. But her expression was resolute and she willingly submitted to being buckled into the dunking harness. Her attendants were covered in Kevlar to protect their mortal skin from the intense heat.
As was typical with the undead, there was an observation platform for watching the proceedings, as if melting away one’s flesh was a perfectly natural thing to do and warranted spectators. To me, it was a ghoulish ordeal and should have been a personal affair, but that wasn’t how things were handled on the island. As I drew closer, I could see my progeny was standing on the platform, transfixed by the proceedings. I could tell by her body language that she was horrified, and yet unable to look away.
“Haley!” I called to her just as the vampiress stepped from the platform and executed a perfect swan dive into the molten lava.
My progeny flinched when I called out to her, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the proceedings below. The attendants began reeling the vampires back in. That was one of the thrills and risks of the lava pools. There was no guarantee that the mortals could retrieve you in time and you would be lost to the primordial fire.
The writhing creature that was retrieved from the fire looked nothing like the beauty who dove into the lava with such determination. Her hair and skin were gone. Her face had been burned away. Her muscles and ligaments were exposed, along with some bone. And yet she was still moving; the figure was somehow triumphant. She must have been in horrible pain, and yet she walked unassisted to the stretcher to be carried away for a full skin rejuvenation treatment.
“This is her third time to the pools,” one observer say to his friend. “I think she’s always secretly hoping that this will be when the line snaps.”
“Haley,” I cried, rushing over to my progeny.
She was half bent over, fiercely gripping the observation platform’s bannister. “Get me out of here,” she said in a harsh whisper. “I want to leave, but I can’t make myself go.”
“Oh, my darling,” I said, gently but firmly forcing her hands to loosen their grip. “I’m so sorry. I should have warned you not to visit the pools. This is not a sight for a fledgling’s eyes.” Gathering her in my arms, I took wing, half carrying her.
When we alighted outside our bungalow suite, she managed to ask, “Why would she do such a horrible thing?” Tears were pouring down her cheeks. “She was so perfect and yet, so unhappy.” Closing her eyes, she shook her head repeatedly. “I just don’t understand.”
“I don’t know her personally, but most vampires come to the replenishing pool because they are weary with immortality.” Haley looked up at me, waiting for more, so I went on with, “But that’s after being alive for a very long time. Two or three hundred years, perhaps.”
Haley digested this information. “So that could happen to us?” she asked. “A hundred years from now we’ll be burning our skin off with molten lava, just so we can feel something?”
“No,” I said fiercely, holding her even tighter. “That will never happen to us.” I couldn’t stand the mere thought of it.
“But it could,” Haley went on. “When you’re mortal, living forever is something people fantasize about, but the reality of it is…” She shook her head, obviously unable to let go of the vision of the vampiress in the pool.
“I should have never brought you here,” I said, hating myself for exposing my progeny to the grimmer realities of her new world. “I’m so sorry.” I kissed her gently on the forehead. “We’ll leave here. Tonight.”
“No, we don’t have to go,” she protested. “I…” She involuntarily shuddered. “I’ll get over it. And floating in the volcano’s steam was so much fun. I wouldn’t want to miss out on any of the good experiences just because…”
“Haley, we have the world at our feet. We can go anywhere and do anything. Let’s just leave now and go on to the next adventure. We can always come back in fifty years, if you like.”
“Will this resort even be here in fifty years?” she asked.
“If Madame Renee has her way, it will be,” I replied. “Every dime she makes from this resort she funnels into preserving the environment.”
With a small sniff, Haley said, “I guess that’s another challenge of immortality; you actually have to worry about the earth’s future.”
“That, or invest heavily into space travel,” I said, giving her a playful nudge. “So, should we get out of here and go see something new?”
She nodded, cheering up considerably. “Yes, but I still want to see more of this exclusive vampire world. Can we come back to fire in another decade?”
I gave a small nod, admiring her resiliency.
Haley smiled. “What’s next on the list? Ice?”
Chapter 4
Haley
“Okay, right there,” Dorian said, positioning me to stand on a specific spot. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay…” I told him. Being blindfolded was driving me nuts. I had every intention of faking an itch on my nose as soon as he was gone. I would use it as an excuse to adjust the blindfold to be a little more forgiving.
I felt him moving away from me, heard the slight squeak of ice under his shoes. I was just starting to envision that my nose was horribly itchy when Dorian said, “Oh, and Haley?”
“Yes?”
“If you peek, I shall be very put out.”
Damn it! It was typical of Dorian to know what I was thinking almost before I had time to think it. He knew that being blindfolded was making me crazy. In fact, I doubted he had to leave me standing by myself like an idiot; he was probably just doing to it to provoke me. The anticipation of whatever surprise he had planned was killing me.
Instead of struggling to see through the blindfold, I closed my eyes and tried to relax so that I could tap into my vampire senses. There were the sounds of people trying to move very quietly. Mortals. I could smell them; their breath, their blood, their individual scents. Someone had been eating onions for dinner. It was a good thing that I had recently filled my belly because I could feel the urge to feed struggling to rise within me, but I was able to push it back down. There was heat coming from an area in front of me. I knew it was probably something generated for the mortals; they didn’t do so well in the subzero conditions of the Antarctic.
“Okay, Haley,” Dorian called. “You may remove your blindfold now.”
I swiped the fabric away from my eyes to find that I was standing on a dancefloor in front of a small gazebo filled with over a dozen musicians dressed in black. The men and women were all blindfolded and being blasted with heaters from all sides to keep them warm. Dorian was standing in front of the musicians, in the conductor’s spot. He was wearing a tuxedo with tails and he looked even more gorgeous than usual, if that was at all possible. He brushed a lock of blond ha
ir out of his eyes and gave me a brilliant smile. “Miss Haley Scott,” he said into the microphone, “this song is for you.”
Then, tapping a conductor’s baton against the sheet music stand in front of him, he called the musicians to attention and they raised their instruments. They couldn’t see him conduct with their blindfolds on, so he used his voice to instruct them instead. In a slow-paced, lilting tempo he said, “And a one, and a two, and a one-two-three.”
The band started to play at a slow, yet bobbing tempo. It reminded me of the music from some black and white movies I’d seen with a variety of brass instruments blending their tones together. After the musicians had played through the melody for the first time, Dorian turned, flashed me another smile, — although this one was a tad more nervous — and began to sing.
To be with you here in the moonlight
Taught me all the things I’ve missed
To dance with you under the starlight
I become lost in your kiss
I know this time, I’ll run away with you
To any tropic isle you name
I know this time, I’ll sail away with you
To any foreign port you proclaim
My heart swelled in my chest. Dorian was just so amazing in so many different ways. It had taken awhile for me to crack through his arrogant candy shell, but now that we had spent a solid amount of time together, I knew that he was kind, smart, generous, and devilishly handsome. And now, to top it off, it turned out he could sing. And I just couldn’t believe how well he could sing. Like, professional grade. Okay, so he wasn’t very modern in his style of singing, but I could definitely imagine him as the headliner for one of those touring big bands, back in the thirties or forties.
The way Dorian was looking at me made me feel almost giddy. His piercing gray eyes let me know that, even if the dance floor had been filled with couples, it would still feel like he was singing only for me.
“Bravo! Bravissimo!” a female voice exclaim. I heard the rapid beating of a single person clapping vigorously, even though the song wasn’t over.
“Oh!” I couldn’t help but exclaim, both annoyed and surprised. I had thought we were alone. But when I spun around, I saw that a beautiful vampiress had stopped to enjoy the show. She was an olive-skinned beauty with full, red lips and tresses of dark, lustrous hair tumbling down her back. She wore a cream colored silk dress that was so sheer and revealing that it was practically a scarf. And the curvy body to which the dress was clinging was spectacular. And that was coming from me, a straight girl.
“He’s wonderful. Isn’t he?” she said, her large brown eyes transfixed on Dorian, although I assumed she was speaking to me.
“I think so,” I replied, not sure what she expected me to say. “I mean, he is my maker.”
“Oh,” she broke her gaze from staring at Dorian to give me the once-over. “It’s fascinating to meet you.”
“Elaina, how wonderful to see you,” Dorian said, leaping down from the bandstand and hurrying to my side, the song petering out with his departure. “I didn’t know you were in Antarctica. Aren’t you usually in South America this time of year?”
“Paolo invited me. Believe it or not, I practically declined the invitation,” she said, tossing her long black hair over one golden shoulder, her voice sounding like the purr of a jungle cat. “And to think, I would have missed such a tender performance.” She shifted her gaze to me. “He really is impressive. Don’t you think? If you didn’t know him like I do, then you’d probably be completely convinced he was singing just for you.”
“Alright now, Elaina,” Dorian said. “Pull in your claws. Haley’s done nothing to you. If you want to lash out at someone, then lash out at me.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” she said with an amused grin.
“It’s alright,” I assured Dorian in a lowered voice. “I know what she’s trying to do.” This type of behavior out of a vampiress actually wasn’t that uncommon, when it had something to do with Dorian Vanderlind. I was quickly growing a thick skin for when beautiful vampiresses started making catty remarks about my maker, doing their best to drive a stake between us. My relationship with Dorian seemed to infuriate a lot of undead females. And a few living ones, for that matter. This told me that, even though Dorian always claimed that his previous relationships were superficial, the ladies involved felt otherwise. It didn’t leave me thrilled with my maker. Just because he treated me like a princess didn’t absolve him from previous bad behavior. But I also couldn’t see how having some vampiress trying to scratch at me like an angry cat changed the situation. It wasn’t my fault. Or perhaps the women were envious that I’d won the heart of Dorian, when they had failed. I honestly wasn’t sure. But unfortunately, my maker’s previous lovers had a way of ruining whatever perfect moment we were trying to share.
Biting back my annoyance, I turned to Dorian and said, “Is there any more to the song?” After all, the musicians were still blindfolded and poised with their instruments at the ready. I had to assume that most of them were world-caliber. Vampires had a habit of influencing certain artists into performing for undead events and then wiping their memories afterward. Sometimes it didn’t pay to be too talented in the mortal world. At least I knew Dorian would make sure to pay the orchestra. A lot of less scrupulous vampires didn’t bother.
“There’s another verse,” he admitted, “but perhaps we should save it for another time.”
“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” Elaina said. “I can simply melt into the shadows.” She flashed us both a congenial smile before turning and traipsing off.
“I’m happy to listen, if you want to keep singing,” I told my maker, after waiting a moment for the vampiress to clear the area. After all, I could still marvel at Dorian’s incredible voice, even if our romantic moment had been spoiled.
“No.” he shook his head. “I think I’d rather wait until we’re truly alone. This song was something special that I wanted to share just with you and…” He wrinkled his nose. “Right now I think, no matter what, we’ll have an audience.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you could sing?” I asked, slipping my bare arms in between his jacket and his shirt, closing the gap between us.
He looked embarrassed for a moment and then said, “It’s not something that I share with a lot of people, despite what Elaina implied. Back when I was a mortal, I had dreams of escaping the family curse and becoming a singer.”
“Why didn’t you?” I asked. He had the talent, plus I assumed he’d been plenty handsome, even before he was turned.
“Never had the chance,” he explained, running a finger under his collar. “I broke my neck when I was horseback riding and Grandfather turned me. But I also wonder…” His words faded on his lips.
“What?”
“I wonder if I ever would have had the guts to really have given it a try. I mean, just because you can carry a tune and string a few lyrics together doesn’t mean that you have what it takes to…”
“Wait a minute,” I said, interrupting him. “You wrote that song? The one you were just singing?”
“It’s a Dorian Vanderlind original,” he confessed, shifting his body away from me and looking uncomfortable.
“Wow, just wow,” I couldn’t help but exclaim. Dorian was so damn sexy, and rich, and incredibly talented; it was almost overwhelming. I had to check myself to keep from feeling insecure. “But that song is so pretty. Why didn’t you ever do anything with it?” He frowned, so I quickly added, “Or are vampires not allowed to, you know, be famous?”
“Not really,” he said. “Or at least not for long. Of course, a lot of the undead just Bryon it.”
“Byron it?” I asked, shaking my head. He’d lost me. “Like Lord Byron?”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t get it,” I had to admit. “What about Lord Byron?”
“You don’t think George Byron wrote all those poems himself. Do you?” Dorian made a small scoffing sound. “I mean,
look at She Walks in Beauty. It was so obviously written by a member of the undead.”
I felt a desperate need to grab my phone and start Googling, but that would have to wait until I was alone. “So you’re saying Lord Byron wasn’t a poet?” I didn’t know much about Byron, but I at least knew his name, and had some vague idea that he was a writer.
“No,” he said firmly. “Or at least not a very good one. He died before my time, but he mostly had a reputation for being a good-looking party boy.”
“Then who wrote his poems?” I had to ask. “It was a vampire?”
“Yes, at least one, but maybe as many as three. I’m not exactly sure of all the details of the masquerade. But the best of them, the She Walks in Beauty poet, is still around. I’ll introduce you sometime. Byron, apparently, begged her to turn him, but he was too addicted to fame and it was pretty obvious that he would have had trouble faking his own death, and then sticking to it.”
“So she killed him?” I asked, a little shocked. It seemed like kind of a rotten thing to do.
“No.” Dorian chuckled. “She just allowed him to die. By bloodletting, if you can believe it. Some ignorant doctor thought a good bloodletting was an excellent remedy for curing a nasty cold. And then sepsis set in. But Byron was mired in some Greek military thing by then. I guess he was tired of just being the beard for other people’s talents and he was trying to prove his own worth.”
“That’s… confusing...” World history got even more complicated once you factored in vampires. “But that doesn’t tell me about you and your talent. Why didn’t you try to pursue your music? At least for a little while.”
“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “A future filled with wealth and immortality can sometimes be oddly defeating. When you’re mortal, you have so little time. But when you’re a vampire…” He let his thoughts fade with a shrug.
“So why share it with me now?” It had been wonderful, but I wondered if he had something else in mind.