by Atha, DL
“My body listed for what felt like an eternity. My human death did not come from a broken neck. Instead, I strangled on the noose, so I had time to focus on the women who had put me in this predicament, lest I forget in death what in the last moments of my life had become so important.”
Chapter 11
Adrik’s voice died away and the memories of his past stopped playing in my head. I felt him slightly disconnect from me. The bond was still there, but he’d closed his mind for a moment. I suppose like humans, some memories are too important not to share but too painful when you finally do. He needed a moment of privacy, and I let him have it. A few minutes passed before he lifted his head and looked at me.
“I’m so sorry for what happened to you. I had no idea,” I said.
“Irena paid for her sins. She and I are even now and I need no one’s pity.”
“I don’t pity you, Adrik, but I am sorry for all that you lost. Still, I don’t understand how committing suicide allowed you to curse Irena,” I said.
“I was already excommunicated, so my chances of rising as a vampire were good. If I committed suicide, it was almost a certainty I would rise a vampire, and then I could curse her with my fate by marking her. Revenge was my main concern, so I did everything in my power to ensure my transformation.
“It was Ivan who cut me down that next morning and buried me. And it was because of him that my plans worked. He did not know it, of course. I had asked the native woman who served my meals the morning of my last day alive to carry a simple message to Ivan saying I fully expected to be dead by morning so serious were my wounds. My only request of him, even before I was excommunicated, was that he bury me in an unknown location and allow no one to desecrate my body. The people of the fort would have been anxious to see me staked in my casket since they considered me cursed after the incident with the native child. In those times, any oddness associated with a person could result in a stake through their corpse and the thought terrified me.
“Ivan honored my request, despite my suicide, and retrieved my body the morning following my death. He buried it in the one spot that not a soldier from the fort was brave enough to enter, the ground where the children had been killed in the Battle for Sitka. It was long considered cursed, and no man—white or native—would approach it. Ivan was my one true friend. He must have been terrified, knowing the old legends that I would rise and come to him. Still, he proved as loyal in death as he had been in life.”
“What was it like?” I questioned. “Rising?”
Adrik took a deep, unneeded breath, holding it inside for what felt like several minutes but was surely much shorter. “The experience is difficult to explain to one who has never died and the act did not happen immediately as I had expected. Rather, it was a process that unfolded over days. My consciousness returned first, but it faded in and out as a human fades in and out of sleep before fully waking for the day.
“The semblance to my human existence ended there, for nothing else seemed even remotely related to the condition in which I had previously lived. No part of me felt human. My chest seemed a void for not a thing stirred within the cavity. My heart was silent, and my lungs were nothing more than dead space. Even my skin had a smoothness that could not have belonged to a man. My every mortal ache and pain was gone and the hideous burn of my lacerated back was only a memory.
“My body was alive with a thousand new sensations. The pads of my fingertips danced across the wood of my coffin and I could feel each splinter. I stroked the coarse wool of my garments and could count every fiber. My body was muscled and whole underneath my hands. My member sprung to life in my hand as I stroked its length. I felt strong. Immortal. Death had not touched me.
“But not everything was as glorious as my immortal body. While my sensations were strong and new so also were the hungers that burned in the pit of my bowels.
“Naturally, I wanted blood, and the mere thought of the substance would constrict my throat and cause my bones to ache. The smell of my friend Ivan hung heavy in the air of my coffin, and each time I inhaled of its sweetness, I would gnash my teeth and scream in hunger. My throat burned the same as a man on a deserted island surrounded by an ocean of water that he could not drink. My mind conjured images of waterfalls running with blood and rain that turned red upon my skin.
“But I had other cravings, some expected and some not. I, who had been so deathly afraid of the terrors of the night, now longed to be a part of that darkness. The night called to me, and I ached to be free of my prison. The muscles of my legs begged to stretch and join the other predators that roamed the woods. I missed the magic of the moonlight and the whip of the wind on my skin.
“My mind was free as well and every thought that had been shut off to me before was opened up. And thus, I craved all the vices I had denied myself through the years. I longed to hurt the men I had prayed for only days before. I wanted to know the feel of a wanton woman’s hands. I wanted to experience drunkenness. I feared nothing, except that final Judgment Day, and since I had sinned the worst sin that could be sinned, what fear had I in a few more?
“And each one of my sinful urges centered on Irena. How I desired her! The thought of her bones crushing in my hands and her blood running down my throat made me dizzy with anticipation. I wanted to see fear bloom in her eyes when she realized my plans for her.
“All the self-control I had once possessed was tossed aside. My patience was destroyed, and I lusted for blood and revenge with such fervor that I would beat my hands and head against the coffin lid in my angst to escape.
“And nothing held me in the grave except the earth itself. I lay in unhallowed ground in a simple wooden box. My body was whole and intact. My arms unbound, and no Crucifixes ground through my body. No rocks in my mouth to still my bite. No bed of garlic to burn the skin from my bones. I had been buried without a single sacrament of protection.
“Fools! All of them. Even Ivan who had buried me in this pristine condition. To bury the condemned man without any protection from the unholy nature they had forced upon me. It was as if they believed in good but not in evil.
“But I could find no way out of my grave, and I was weak from lack of sustenance. I clawed the underside of my coffin lid until my nails broke off into the wood. That tomb and the dirt heaped upon it would have been no match for my strength if I had tasted even a swallow of blood.
“In desperation and boredom, I turned to gnawing at my arms and hands. I cleaved the tissue from my bones, and when I had chewed through all the flesh I could reach and could find no more blood, I gnawed my exposed skeleton until shards of bone lodged in my teeth. And when not an unmarked spot could be found on my arm bones, I cried. Pitiful guffaws that could have been heard from atop the grave if any other creature had been close enough to hear. When I could no longer find the energy to cry, I would return to my bones and gnaw some more.
“In the daylight hours, I simply listened to the sounds of the world above me while I lay paralyzed by the sun. Without my crying, the wildlife would venture back to the forest around my gravesite but never close enough that they would step on the grave. When my body was re-animated during the night, the animals would scatter, for they recognized my state clearer than any human. Animals do not question what their senses tell them is real.
“The beginning of the thirteenth night of my imprisonment found me noisily sucking on one scarred arm bone. Divots marked its surface where my teeth had gnashed the bone in my desperation. Not a shred of tissue remained from my mid upper arms down to my fingertips, and the bones of my hands clinked against one another as I moved.
“I was half-listening to the night sounds above me while I worked on my gory task. The stillness, brought on by my presence, weighed heavily on the world above. Not a living animal could be found stirring near my grave, and it was only the uneven patter of rain drops tapping the earth of my gravesite that provided any noise at all.
“Against the backdrop of the rain, a new sound b
egan to take form. It was a soft thudding that became slowly more insistent as it approached until I could recognize the pattern of a man walking. A shiver of excitement rolled up my spine, my muscles contracting so strongly that they lifted my body from the coffin floor before dropping me back down again.
“I froze in place, my teeth clenched upon my own bone. I struggled to relax and turned my face from my arm to study the sounds above me. I was as silent as the proverbial grave, and I dared not even blink for fear that the sound would reach the passerby above me. It was illogical, of course, but the knowledge did not quell the fear.
“The footsteps were the first human sounds I had heard in my new life. I was certain they belonged to a man, a native male to be exact, for the steps traced a confident path through the dark forest overhead. The white men of the fort could not move so calmly through the woods. Their gait is offset by the constant looking over their shoulder. They are not at home in the wild.
“I lay tensed in my coffin, unmoving and unblinking, as the footfalls approached my grave and then hesitated before finally coming to a stop. Above me, the man shifted his position in reference to the newly dug grave; his knees creaked as he bent to examine the fresh dirt. The rub of his leather-skin parka reached my ears along with the light tinkle of oyster shells sewn on for decoration.
“Though I could not actually smell him, my mind imagined his fragrance, and I went mad with hunger. My hands clawed desperately at the coffin lid; my nails scratched deep grooves down its wooden length. I bucked against the wood of the coffin, but it would not budge with the weight of the earth that pressed it down. I fought my enshrinement with skinless fists.
“The grind of the human’s joints as he stood to go reached my ears, and I began to cry once more as the only human who had ventured close now began to move away. Howls of pain tore from my throat. I roared my disgust so violently that my own ears ached with the noise.
“The man hesitated then at the keening sounds coming from underground, and I heard his heart palpitate and pick up as he listened to the inhuman sounds coming from the grave. His breathing became harsh, and he lurched forward, gaining momentum, to sprint for safety.
“Frenzied by the reverberations of the human’s heart, I went completely insane inside the coffin. I twisted violently, screaming and growling more like a wild animal than a man, and in pure instinct, I reached out with my mind, imagining the feel of the dirt under my feet and the scent of his blood in the air.
“As I did so, my bones collapsed from within and my skin melted away, and I felt the hard confines of the casket in its final attempt to contain me before I melted through the layers of wet dirt and leaves. From a thick mist, I materialized atop my grave.
“It was my first view of the world as a vampire, but I did not take time to appreciate it. I was too focused on the hunger burning in the pit of my belly. The scent of the man permeated the forest, and it was so strong and fresh that I could nearly see it winding through the trees like a red ribbon. I followed it without a second thought.
“I caught the human just as he entered the mountain pass that would lead him back to his people. No doubt, he had thought himself safe, and that whatever beast he had heard from under the ground was long since put behind him. Perhaps he even questioned whether he had heard anything at all.
“His breath was coming in loud wheezes and, unable to run any longer, he sucked in deep mouthfuls of the cold night air as he slowed to a walk. The beadwork on his tunic danced with the effort of his breathing. The smell of his sweat mingled with the warm smell of blood, and his muscles shook with fatigue; the clamshells decorating his hair tinkled nervously around his head.
“Confident of his escape, he was focused on reaching the mountain pass and did not see me until I was close enough to clamp one hand around his throat. I lifted him up so that only the tips of his moccasins could reach the earth and his feet danced underneath him as he searched for traction in the dirt.
“He brought his hands up and fastened them on the bones of my forearm, his eyes widening in surprise and terror at my lack of skin. Although I could see the sickened expression cross his features each time his nails scraped my exposed bones, he still clawed desperately at my arm, trying to break my grip.
“When he realized my grasp was a death hold from which he could not escape, he stopped struggling and looked me full in the face. ‘Are you the Kushtaka?’ he asked me in between the gasps of his lungs.
“I had learned enough Tlingit and Aleutian as a human working among the clergy that I could understand the basics of their speech and a few of their customs. The Kushtaka was the river otter man, a shape-shifting creature that captured men in the woods or in the sea. The unhappy victim was then drowned and taken back to the underwater home of the river otter and turned into another Kushtaka. The victim would never be reincarnated back into the clan of his people and would never walk in paradise. Instead, he would haunt the forest and the coastline for an eternity, searching for his own victims.
“‘No,’ I shook my head at him. ‘I am not Kushtaka.’
“By this time, the human had dropped his hands from my arms and hung limply in my grasp. I was watching the blood drain from his cheeks when I saw a fleeting hope cross his face. A moment later, I felt the tip of his knife cut through the skin of my belly as he tried in vain to disembowel the dead.
“My blood ran cold down my legs and dripped onto my naked feet, staining the snow underfoot, and I released him as I stared at the ground underneath us. The native took a step back, repulsed at the red fluid that had sprayed across his own belly and now dripped from him to the ground as well.
“He looked at me with a new terror now as he recognized that my blood was not warm. It did not steam upon the wind, and I did not drop to my knees as one whose belly has been ripped asunder.
“‘I am not the Kushtaka,’ I repeated again. ‘I am vampire.’ The word had no meaning to him and he only stared at me dumbly for the span of a breath before his body braced to sprint.
“I caught him in my arms before he could get more than a step, and I forced his head back so I could look at him and he surrendered his gaze willingly.
“There were many things I wanted to tell him, and I found that as our eyes locked, I could reach his mind without the need of speech. I showed him what I was and I promised him a quick death and swore that I would deliver his body to his people so it could be burned in their way. I would not keep him from paradise.
“I could have pressed my will upon him and made him mindless as I took his life. But that is not the way to deliver death to a warrior. He did not want to die, but he was not afraid. This man deserved the dignity to face his end like a man, to look it full in the face and make his peace.
“I gave him these moments before I turned his knife upon himself. His hand remained on the carved, bone handle as I placed the beveled tip over his fluttering heart. Basking for one more moment in the glow of its pounding, I plunged the stake between the native’s ribs, skewering the organ on its point. His heart spasmed once but did not beat again as his mouth opened, his last breath of air flowing out and into the wind.
“It took only a few moments for the blood flowing forward in his body to stop in its journey, but with my hunger raging, I marked those seconds each as an eternity. Finally, his eyes became hollow and the muscles of his hands quit their twitching.
“As he collapsed, I lowered him to the forest floor. His dead eyes watched me as I sunk my fangs into his elbow. The artery was still hot, and I drank until I could expel not another drop, and for the first time since my rebirth, the raging fire in the pit of my stomach was dampened, if not quenched.
“As I rose from him, I felt new—more alive than I had when life had truly been mine. I inhaled a deep breath and extended my arms over my head, the flesh already regenerating as I did so. I stretched upwards as high as I could before twisting my torso to either side. Strength rippled through my muscles as I flexed my arms and legs. The cool air
tickled the skin of my scalp as it ruffled through my thick hair and waved lacy fingers across my exposed skin.
“I felt whole now, and looking down, I took note of my nakedness. Smooth skin, gleaming even in the moonless night, rippled across the thick muscles of my chest. My abdomen was finely notched as it tapered to a tight ligament that stretched between my hip and groin before flaring out slightly across the taut muscles of my thighs and buttocks. My phallus thrust forward proudly, each inch hard and firm from my recent feed. I stroked it once, anticipating its use another night.
“I flexed the muscles of my arms feeling the strength. I sucked in the air, tasting the forest in the back of my throat. Throwing out my chest, I let out a blood-curdling roar, listening as it reverberated off the mountains. I had run without breath and my heart lay as still in my chest as if I were truly dead indeed.
“Without a fearful thought, I scaled the cliffs that led to the mountaintop with only the tips of my fingers and my toes. I climbed so quickly my skin barely grazed the granite walls. Without the need to remain jointed, I could stretch ridiculous distances, and with my newfound strength, I could hold on to the cliff with one hand and swing far to the right or the left.
“I had reached the tree line of the mountain above which nothing grew. Ice hung in sheets and bits of it dug sharply into my skin. The air was thin, but I had no cares—no worries. I was as icy as the landscape around me, but I had no fear of this frozen wasteland. It was my empire, and I was a vampire, cold and glorious. All the chains of my previously constrained life had fallen away, and I did not care that no part of me appeared human any longer.
“Lying in the shadow of the mountain below, I could make out the body of the man I had killed. I felt no guilt, but I had no argument with the human. The native had simply served as the bait to draw me from the grave. He had unleashed the powers that I did not know I possessed.