Darkness Is Rising

by C. M. Sipes

  “Something is troubling you, Vittoria?” Marcella asked.

  Vittoria could feel her eyes boring into the side of her face. “The plague. I do not have a good feeling about it.”

  “You would be a fool if you did, my dear,” Marcella replied. “Disease is a cruel thing. It kills without mercy—no regard for social status, wealth, family, or religion. It takes whomever it wishes and never apologizes.”

  Her eyes met Marcella’s and she could see a sadness that seemed to span centuries. In a moment it had vanished, and once more she questioned whether she had imagined it as well.

  “I believe I am going to take my leave. I am in need of some much needed rest,” Marcella began. “Try not to bump into anyone else today?” She offered a smile and gave Vittoria’s hand a squeeze.

  Vittoria nodded in reply; watching as Marcella effortlessly glided through the crowd of people and then vanished.

  Vittoria glanced around the square and decided that she was not hungry at the moment, but felt like taking a walk instead. She did not know how long she wandered, just that when she rounded a corner and heard a sickly cough, she finally stopped and realized that it had gotten darker outside.

  “Help,” a breathless voice rasped from nearby, causing her to walk toward the noise. She saw a man lying against the wall of a home. “Help.”

  “Signor, are you well?” she asked as she stooped to his level.

  “I need the Father,” he rasped out. She glanced down and noticed the color of his fingers and the sweat on his brow. Vittoria nodded quickly before rising and running as fast as she could back to the church.

  “Father! Father Caravello!” Vittoria yelled as she entered the church. He turned around in his pew and looked at her with concern, then rose and followed her back outside to where the man rested. A physician had been acquired shortly after, and was attending to the man in his home.

  “Did you touch him?” the Father asked.

  “No. I heard him call for help and he asked for you,” she replied.

  He nodded in response and sighed. “I think it is best if you run home to eat and rest—do not worry yourself with this. Just pray, my child. The Saints will hear you and direct them to God.”

  Vittoria nodded and turned on her heels, wandering back to her home. Her thoughts became muddled as she walked and she suddenly began to feel sick. Worry swam through her bones, as well as fear of the unknown future. The thoughts caused her head to pound like the drums of war.

  “Quite the commotion today,” a woman spoke from behind where she had stopped.

  “It is going to get worse, Marcella.”

  “Of course it is. It must always become worse before it gets better,” she replied as she walked toward Vittoria. Marcella placed an arm around Vittoria’s shoulders and guided her toward her home. “Are you well? You look white as a ghost.”

  “I just became dizzy before you spoke.” Vittoria did not need to look at her to know that worry had spread across her face.

  “I see. Do you feel alright now?”

  “I will feel better once I get some rest and something to eat,” she replied. They came to a halt outside of her home.

  “I shall check in on you tomorrow to make sure you are better,” Marcella stated.

  The worry in her voice did little to provide comfort.

  “I will see you then.” Vittoria began to turn toward the door, but stopped. “You look much better now, by the way.”

  “Yes. It is amazing what a little rest and food will do for the body,” she replied easily before bidding Vittoria farewell and disappearing into the night.

  * * *

  She was not sure when the fever took hold of her. She remembered feeling so hot, as if the sun was placed directly on top of her. So hot, that she was unable to breathe and cried out for water. Her parents were worried sick and had immediately requested a physician and Father Caravello. The small bits and pieces she had heard them say assuaged her worry some.

  She was not going to die yet.

  The blackness hadn’t set upon her fingers, and the swollen lumps had yet to take hold of her groin and underarms. For now, she just had to battle the fever.

  She drifted in and out of consciousness for the majority of the day. Her parents remained by her side until Father Caravello insisted they leave the home and get some fresh air. They had to worry about their own safety now. He sat with Vittoria for a while, telling her stories he had recently read in some new scrolls he acquired. She did hear him mention that when she became better she would have to read them as well, so they could discuss and debate.

  Vittoria lost consciousness once more…and when she came to, Father Caravello was gone and Marcella sat in his spot.

  “I knew you were not well yesterday,” she said softly from the chair next to the bed. She offered Vittoria a ladle of fresh water, which she gulped down in a matter of seconds.

  “Did you suspect that I had become ill?” Vittoria asked. Her voice was raspy and weak; merely opening her mouth to speak caused her agony. She had not spoken all day and longed for a small amount of conversation.

  “Yes, I had.”

  “It took you awhile to come and see me,” Vittoria mentioned softly as she looked at Marcella. She saw a flicker of guilt flash in her eyes.

  “I would have come sooner, but I was tied up in some business,” she answered. “You missed a beautiful day outside. It was terribly sunny I hear.”

  “You hear?”

  “I was…unable to enjoy it myself,” she replied, offering no more than that.

  Silenced encompassed them for a few moments.

  “Vittoria, allow me to ask you a question. It may seem rather odd, but I would like an answer nonetheless.”

  “Of course,” she coughed out, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath.

  Marcella waited until she had calmed before pressing further. “If someone offered you immortality—never growing old, or sick, never dying of any natural cause—would you accept it?”

  Vittoria stared into Marcella’s eyes for a few moments before speaking, “As I am on my deathbed at the moment—yes, I suppose I would accept it. I am a God-fearing woman, Marcella, but I am also afraid of dying. I know not what exists after death, aside from what the priests tell us. Although I can read Latin, I have never dared to read the Bible for myself. It feels like it is off limits to one such as I,” she paused, heavily drawing in air.

  Marcella offered her more water, which she gratefully accepted. The cool liquid quenched the burning in her throat, albeit momentarily.

  “Life after death terrifies me. I have been a Christian since the day I was baptized, and yet I fear that I have not done enough to be welcomed into heaven. I fear purgatory, I fear Hell, and I fear the Devil.”

  “What if the Devil was the one who offered you immortality?” Marcella asked quietly.

  The intensity in her eyes would have frightened her, if she were not already frightened of dying.

  “I suppose I would accept. My fear of death outweighs my fear of the Devil,” Vittoria replied. Another fit of coughing racked her body for a moment.

  “What if I were to offer you immortality? Would you accept?”

  “Marcella, how could you possibly offer me immortality?” Vittoria asked, a light laugh forcing its way past her lips.

  Marcella did not smirk like she expected. Instead, she moved from the chair right next to the bed, and crouched next to Vittoria. Her hazel eyes flickered red in the candlelight, and Vittoria’s brow creased in confusion when Marcella’s eyes became the color of blood.

  “Darling, I am the Devil,” Marcella whispered, her eyes holding Vittoria’s. “Do not fear me, please. I wish to help you—to rid you of this mortality that you are currently clinging to. I ask you these questions because soon, the disease will become too severe within your body that I will be unable to help you and keep this offer.”

  “What are you?” Vittoria asked. Fear caused her voice to quiver as she s
tared into bright red eyes.

  Marcella smiled, her teeth becoming visible, as well as two sharp fangs that resided in her upper row.

  “My kind has gone by many names throughout the years, but you would commonly know me as the living dead, or vampire,” explained Marcella.

  Vittoria could not believe her ears; she was sure the plague had begun to affect her mind and she was dreaming. She had believed that such things only existed in legend, despite what the priests said. Yet here was Marcella, only a few inches away, with her sharp fangs and bright blood-red eyes.

  “Vampire,” Vittoria said aloud, letting the word roll off her tongue. “You would turn me into this creature?”

  “You will still remain you, Vittoria. It will be difficult at first, adjusting,” she paused, “but I will be here to help you through it and teach you what I know.”

  “There are more of you?” she asked.

  “Many. Many of us prefer to remain away from civilization, to live alone in solitude. Others, walk among the living every day, unnoticed.”

  “I—I saw you in daylight though.”

  Marcella chuckled and gently moved a strand of blonde hair away from Vittoria’s face.

  “We can be in daylight, just not direct sunlight until we are much older. The sunlight stings and is slightly uncomfortable, but we can remain for a short while.”

  “Ah,” she replied. That had explained why Marcella missed out on the perfect day, as well as why she looked so sickly when she had seen her on an overcast day.

  “Young ones cannot venture into the sunlight, it is too powerful and they are not old enough to resist. It will kill you if you remain too long.”

  “How old are you?”

  “I am very old, child. I have been alive for over a millennia. I am ancient by your standards, old by many other vampires’ standards, and young by the universe’s standards,” Marcella said. “I wish you to join me.”

  “Why?” Vittoria asked. She felt so weak. The sickness was getting worse and she feared she hadn’t much time left.

  Marcella looked at her worriedly. This confirmed her assumptions that she was running out of time, and at a rapid pace.

  “I need a successor, Vittoria. I want it to be you. Please, I am sorry for rushing you so, but I need an answer. You have such little time left.” Her voice became frantic.

  Vittoria’s vision began to blur and she felt unconsciousness beckoning to her. She wanted to sleep, to just rest and be done with all of this for the night. But she knew that if she fell asleep, she may not awaken, and that was more terrifying than the offer Marcella had extended.

  “Yes,” she whispered, barely clinging to consciousness.

  Marcella’s eyes flashed and, within seconds, a sharp bite to Vittoria’s neck startled her green eyes open. Vittoria whimpered at the pain. She could feel hot liquid run down the side of her neck, as well as a fervent sucking to the wound that Marcella had made. She felt a hot tongue run up her neck, no doubt cleaning the blood that had flowed freely.

  Marcella moved away from her for a moment. Vittoria was fighting to stay conscious; the loss of blood had weakened her even further, and she worried that Marcella may not succeed in her endeavor.

  Marcella raised her own wrist to her lips and bit down. Blood rose to the surface and she held the wound to Vittoria’s lips.

  “Darling, I need you to drink,” she instructed, pushing the wound into Vittoria’s mouth.

  The taste of iron filled her mouth and made her gag. Slowly, she began to do as Marcella instructed, and drank the blood that flowed from the wound. The taste became sweet, like honey, and she instantly craved more. She sucked harder, guzzling the blood that was offered. She could hear Marcella’s breathing increase and her own heart pounding in her ears like drums.

  “That’s enough dear, you cannot take too much,” she said gently and pried her wrist from Vittoria’s mouth. She reached for a wet cloth and gently wiped the blood from Vittoria’s lips.

  “What will happen?” Vitoria asked. Comfortable warmth began to spread throughout her body, replacing the overwhelming heat she had been experiencing shortly before.

  “You will die. Just for the night. You will be buried and when night rises once more, I will welcome you to the world,” Marcella explained gently.

  Fear racked her whole body; she had not expected that she would actually die.

  “Shh,” Marcella soothed, brushing the hair from Vittoria’s face. “It will be alright. I promise.”

  Vittoria took comfort in her words and gesture for a few moments before horrible pain began to rack her body. She screamed out, crying, asking what was happening.

  “You’re dying. I know it is painful but it must happen, I am going to get your family, try and hold on for a little longer.”

  In a flash she was gone, and Vittoria was left alone with her pain and misery. She cried out to no one. She did not know how long she wailed and screamed before her parents and Father Caravello returned. Vittoria yelled out Marcella’s name, needing comfort from the woman who did this. Marcella appeared next to her, holding her hand and telling her that she would be fine, she just had to hold on.

  Vittoria heard her parents sobbing faintly in the distance. Their cries were drowned out by her own screaming and pain. Finally, the agony began to subside and everything became cold. It felt like she had been placed outside in the winter months, bare as the day she was born. Her whole body began to shiver and her mind began to darken. Her thoughts became clouded.

  She barely registered her parents’ faint screams of despair as they watched her slip away. Marcella still had a hold of her hand, whispering in her ear.

  Tomorrow night she would greet her.

  Tomorrow night Vittoria would join her as a vampire, and face the world anew.

  When Vittoria awoke, she awoke to absolute silence and pitch-blackness. She blinked a few times to attempt to adjust her eyes, but to no avail. She tried to move and realized that she was enclosed in a tight box, the sides almost hugging her shoulders. Vittoria started to panic as anxiety began to course through her body. She tried to calm herself enough to be able to think back on the last thing she remembered.

  Cold.

  Everything had become so incredibly cold.

  Marcella’s blood-red eyes flashed behind her eyelids, reminding her that what had happened to her was not a dream.

  “I need to get out of here,” she said aloud. She felt the top of the box, searching for any weak spots, but to no avail.

  The panic began to set in again, as well as something else. Her stomach began to ache, as if she had not eaten anything in years. Red flashed behind her eyes and she suddenly heard a light beating come from somewhere nearby.

  Blood.

  It was the sound of blood pumping through a body. She tilted her head to the side to listen better, attempting to pinpoint the location of the heartbeat.

  The beat was steady.

  Instinctively she knew that it belonged to someone close to her own age—healthy and strong, and she felt the hunger begin to gnaw at her stomach. A deep growl escaped her lips and she suddenly felt a small pressure against her gums, and then inner lip. Vittoria tentatively raised her hand to her mouth and felt the new additions. The fangs were incredibly sharp and solid, and yearned for flesh and blood.

  Another growl passed her lips as the heartbeat became louder in her ears, as if it was right next to her. Her hands flew to the top of the box and ripped through easily, causing dirt to fall into the coffin and cover her.

  She paid it no mind.

  All she could focus on was the heartbeat that lurked so close to the grave, and she wanted it more than anything. Her hands dug through the dirt as fast as she could manage, pushing it out of the way as she climbed to the surface. The beating grew louder, thundering in her head as she drew nearer. She growled again, pushing the last bit of fresh earth away. She pulled herself from the hole and briefly took in her surroundings.

  There was a full m
oon that night, illuminating the cemetery and the treetops.

  Everything was so sharp and vivid to her eyes. She had never seen anything as clearly as she did in that moment. She could still see the color of the changing leaves and the individual blades of grass—even in the darkness. The moon itself shone as bright as the sun, but the brightness did not harm her eyes.

  It was beautiful.

  The pounding returned then. Causing her head to whip to the side and narrow in on the young grave robber standing only a few yards away. Fortunately for her, he was too engrossed in digging up Signor Contanto’s remains to realize that a vampire had just escaped. He lifted his head from the grave for a moment, wiping the sweat from his brow as he examined a gold piece. She could see the vein on the side of his neck beat in time with his heart, which had increased in rhythm from digging. She was entranced, for a moment, by the movement of the vein. She could hear the blood flowing just below its surface as it sung a sweet cadence.

  Vittoria was upon him in a flash. The poor boy did not even have time to scream for help before her fangs sunk into that vein. She drank greedily, guzzling as much blood as she could manage with each gulp. She could hear his heart begin to slow, and she knew he was close to death’s embrace. For a moment, through her blood haze, she wondered if her heart had sounded like this to Marcella when she had visited her on her deathbed.

  “Someone is awfully hungry,” Marcella’s voice said from behind, causing Vittoria to stop her feast. “Oh, far be it for me to stop you from indulging, dear, but do not continue to drink once his heart stops—not even a sip.”

  Vittoria paused for a moment before returning to her meal. His heartbeat was almost stilled and she stopped once she could feel it no more. She dropped his body to the ground and stood, stretching her limbs. She had never felt so alive. She turned to face Marcella, a smile on her blood-smeared face. She could still make out the color of Marcella’s eyes, even in the darkness, as well as her hair. She suddenly noticed the light and dark strands that resided on Marcella’s head. The color was beautiful, and she wondered if she appeared in such a way to her maker.