I'm the Vampire, That's Why

by Michele Bardsley

  Well, then. There was nothing left to do but read…

  Chapter 11

  Legends of the Seven Ancients

  Ruadan, The First

  As written by

  Lorćan, Fill don Tuatha de Danann

  Once there was a great warrior-magician whose name was Ruadan. To know a man, you must know his story, and all the stories of men begin with their mothers…

  Ruadan was the son of magician-healer Brigid and warrior-prince Bres.

  Brigid was born the daughter of Dagda, all-father to the Tuatha de Danann, and of Morrigu, the crow queen. Bres was born the son of Fomhoire prince Elatha and of Tuatha de Danann princess Eriu. So, the families bound together their children so that earth and sea magic might rule as one.

  The Fomhoire were of the night. They were cunning warriors who knew the secrets of sea magic. Some called them deamhan.

  The Tuatha de Danann were of the day. They were wise magicians who had mastered earth magic. Some called them sidhe.

  Many believed Bres would bring peace to the troubled nations. When he became of age, he married Brigid to solidify his bond with the Tuatha de Danann. In time, he was made King of Eire.

  But Bres was a foolish ruler, ignorant of his people's suffering and unjust in his judgments. The sons of Tuatha de Danann rose up against him and took his crown, banishing him. In defeat, Bres returned to his father's kingdom.

  Brigid sought to soothe her husband's wounded ego. "Why does a prince of the Fomhoire need to rule an island?" she asked of him. "You are Elatha's son! Will you not be king of a continent?"

  Yet, Bres was too prideful to turn away from the dishonor shown to him by the Tuatha de Danann, no matter how deserved. He vowed to take back what had been taken from him and to once again rule Eire.

  Brigid wanted peace between the Fomhoire and the Tuatha de Danann. Without her husband's knowledge, she sought her mother's council. Morrigu foresaw the future and told her daughter the truth: The Tuatha de Danann would triumph over the Fomhoire, but not before Brigid lost her husband and their sons, Ruadan, Iuchar, and Uar.

  "If Bres wishes to die in a war of his own making, I cannot stop him," said Brigid. "But he will not have my sons! "

  Brigid extracted a blood oath from Bres that he would not send their sons to war until they wed and sired children. Brigid hoped that the war would end before the oath's conditions could be met, but as their sons grew into manhood, the battle for the Isle of Eire raged on.

  Though a mother may hope no harm befalls her children, Brigid was not a fool. Her father had taught her the skill of smithing gold, and so she forged two half-swords made of the precious metal. The handles were bejeweled with precious stones and the blades enchanted with sidhe magic. Never had such weapons been seen by either Fomhoire or Tuatha de Danann.

  When their eldest son, Ruadan, celebrated his sixteenth year, Brigid gifted him with the swords. And Bres gifted him with a Fomhoire bride whose name was Aine.

  Afraid Ruadan would impregnate his young wife and thus fulfill the blood oath, Brigid brewed an infertility potion. Every eve, she put the potion into Aine's tea and sat with her, chatting, until every drop was drained. For twelve moons, no children were born.

  Bres grew impatient with his eldest son's lack of heirs. He asked the crow queen for fertility magic, that Ruadan might father a child. But Morrigu, who prospered in turmoil and ruin, offered not a spell, but a secret: She revealed her daughter's treachery to Bres.

  Infuriated by the duplicity of his wife, Bres secreted away Iuchar and Uar in a mountain fortress, telling Brigid that the boys would be educated by holy men. Instead, his sons were given into the care of the best Fomhoire warriors, who taught them every needful thing about war.

  Another twelve moons passed. Now, Iuchar and Uar were old enough to wed and Bres let them each pick a bride from twenty virgins stolen from the Tuatha de Danann. Within a cycle, the women bore their husbands each a daughter.

  Triumphant, Bres returned home with Iuchar, Uar, their wives, and their daughters. Grief-stricken by Bres's sedition, Brigid entered her rooms and wept for a sennight, for now Morrigu's prediction about her children's fates would come to pass.

  Ruadan's wife fell into despair. Here, the lesser sons of Bres had fathered children on enemy women, and yet she remained childless. Aine refused to eat and to drink and took to her bed, allowing only the comfort of her husband. Without the potion working its magic on her womb, she soon conceived. Ruadan would not leave his wife to bear their children alone and so, Bres, Ruadan, Iuchar, and Uar spent the next nine moons planning campaigns against the Tuatha de Danann.

  The Tuatha de Danann had a magical well that instantly healed their warriors so long as they had not suffered a mortal blow. Created by a goldsmith named Goibniu, the well was safeguarded by spells and men alike. "Kill the builder of the well," said Bres to his sons, "and destroy its magic… and the Tuatha de Danann will fall."

  So it came to pass that Aine bore twin boys, Padriag and Lorćan. Ruadan wept with joy and placed a blessing on his sons, that they should have long, happy lives. Then he and his brothers sailed to the Isle of Eire to fulfill his father's plan and his grandmother's prophecy.

  The brothers used stealth and cunning to break through the defenses of their enemy. While Iuchar and Uar battled those that guarded the well, Ruadan stabbed Goibniu with the fae swords. But Goibniu, though mortally wounded, thrust his spear into Ruadan's chest and felled the warrior.

  Iuchar and Uar retrieved their brother and bade their finest warriors to take him home so that Brigid might heal him. When they returned to finish the task set upon them by their father, they were captured and killed. The Tuatha de Danann, fearful the brothers might live again should sea or earth touch them and invigorate their magic, cut the bodies into eight pieces and burned them at eight separate locations on the Isle of Eire so that they might never be resurrected.

  Near death, Ruadan arrived in his homeland and was taken to his mother. She used all her magic and healing arts, but could not save her son. The very same night Ruadan breathed his last, Brigid received word of the fates of Iuchar and Uar. She fell to her knees and wailed with such sorrow, that anyone who heard the sounds knew a mother's heart had been rent from her. It is said that Brigid was the first to keen and ever since, so does any woman who suffers the loss of her loved ones.

  Morrigu heard the keening of her daughter, so she turned into a crow and flew to the land of the Fomhoire. Though the dark queen craved chaos over tranquility and war over peace, she felt pity for her daughter and offered one chance for Brigid to regain her son.

  "Give Ruadan a cup of my blood, but be warned! When he awakes, he will not live as a man, but as a deamhan fhola. He will never again walk in the light. He will not consume food or drink, but shall siphon the blood of the living. Neither will he have breath nor beat of heart. Never will he sire another child by his own seed."

  "Is there no good to be wrought then, Mother?"

  "Where there is dark, there is also light. Ruadan will never age. He will heal from even the most grievous of wounds. He will know the thoughts of those he loves. And he will be a warrior none can defeat. He is of the Fomhoire and of the Tuatha de Danann and those skills and magic will always be his to wield."

  So blinded by grief was Brigid, so badly did she want her son to live again, that she agreed to her mother's terms. But still, Morrigu was not satisfied.

  "Should Ruadan drain a man and replenish him with tainted blood, he shall Turn. Your son will create others and he will rule a master race long after all whom you know and love turn to dust and ash. Even knowing this, will you still give him my blood to drink?"

  And again, Brigid agreed without hesitation. Morrigu cut her wrist and bled into a silver goblet. Brigid lifted her son's head, opened his mouth, and poured every drop of her mother's blood into him.

  When Ruadan awoke, he was deamhan fhola.

  Bres, devastated by the loss of his sons, went himself to the Isle of Eir
e to wreak vengeance on his enemy, but he, too, was killed. Finally, the Tuatha de Danann triumphed over the Fomhoire, and there came to pass an uneasy peace between their peoples.

  But Aine was frightened of the creature her husband had become and refuted him, calling him demon and eater of flesh. She plotted to kill herself and their infant sons, but Ruadan knew her thoughts and stopped her. He wished only happiness for his family and so, he bartered with Aine. If she returned with his mother to the Isle of Eire and raised their sons as Tuatha de Danann, he would leave them alone for all time.

  For twenty-five cycles, Ruadan roamed the Earth to search for his place in it. It is said that he kept journals of his travels and collected great treasures and knowledge. It is also said that he Turned six others in different lands, creating the seeds of the master race foretold by his grandmother.

  Then, because he longed to see his family, he broke his promise to Aine and went to the Isle of Eire to visit his sons. He found that Aine had married a fisherman and she lived, if not happily, at least securely, in a little cottage near the sea. Her mind had suffered greatly since their parting, and it had been his mother Brigid, immortal sidhe, who'd kept watch over his sons.

  Padriag lived on a simple farm with his wife and their three children. Lorćan had a more spiritual and thoughtful nature and became a draoi-filí. His sons knew that Ruadan was deamhan fhola, but they were not afraid, and welcomed him.

  When Aine discovered Ruadan had returned, her sanity completely gave way. She feared his monstrous nature, and she told her husband, who was a suspicious and mean-spirited sort, about the deamhan fhola and how it visited her son's farm every eve. One afternoon, the husband whiled away the hours drinking with his friends and telling them Aine's stories of the deamhan fhola. Made brave by the drink, they went to Padriag's farm to destroy the creature.

  Because the men were drunk and riled up by their fear, they dragged out all who were in the house. They burned the building to the ground and, finding no deamhan fhola, decided Ruadan had taken the guise of a human. The villagers tortured Padraig until he collapsed, unconscious. Then the angry villagers killed his wife and children.

  When Aine learned what her husband had done, she cursed him and the village, then weeping, threw herself off the cliffs.

  Ruadan awoke from his rest and found the destruction of his son's farm and family. As his son passed from the mortal realm, Ruadan drained him, and tearing open the vein in his own neck, forced his son to drink his tainted blood. And so Padraig was Turned.

  Ruadan took Padraig to the cave where Lorćan lived and bid him to care for his brother. He instructed Lorćan on the ways of the deamhan fhola, and warned him that his brother was no longer a man, but a creature destined to walk only in the night.

  But Lorćan did not heed his father's warnings. When Padriag awoke, he was mad with grief and hunger. He tore open his brother's neck and drained him 'til the point of death. When he realized what he'd done, Padraig saved Lorćan in the same manner Ruadan had saved him.

  Now both of Ruadan's sons were deamhan fhola.

  Ruadan took his sons from the land of the Tuatha de Danann. He summoned his first six Turn-bloods to a meeting, and they created the Council of Seven. The Council labored to create laws for their people and bound all deamhan fhola with magic and oath to uphold these laws. Those who broke faith with their Families faced banishment… or death.

  And so it was that Brigid's son fulfilled her mother's prophecy.

  He was the creator of the deamhan fhola.

  He was ruler over all.

  He was Ruadan the First.

  Chapter 12

  Had I been able to cry, the first teardrop would've fallen onto the drawing of two red-faced creatures reminiscent of Ninns—the soldiers who did the bidding of evil Lord Sparr in The Secrets of Droon.

  I closed the book and pushed it away, then lay down on the couch and dry-wept. Patrick had lost everyone… his mother, his wife, his children… and his dad bestowed a monstrous gift without his consent. What would he have decided if Ruadan had asked him? Would he have gone to the afterlife? Or chosen to live as a vampire?

  I wondered what Ruadan might've chosen if Brigid had asked him rather than pour her mother's blood down his throat. Hadn't he, too, been turned into a vampire without the chance to choose his fate?

  Ah, but the theme was the same, wasn't it? Parents who loved their children so much they couldn't let them go. How far would I go to save Bryan and Jenny if anything horrible happened to them? What if it was the worst thing ever… would I Turn them? Would I save them or doom them? Would I hold on or let go?

  I cried a little more. Well, a lot more. After I was finished, I picked the remote up and turned on the TV. I was ready for mindless entertainment. My brain was in full meltdown. And I still felt horribly sad.

  An infomercial touted a knife that could cut through a tin can and then slice a tomato. Click. Lieutenant Columbo pretended to bumble his way to solving another murder. I watched Peter Falk for a few minutes. Click. Another infomercial blared the wonderful qualities of an exercise machine. Hah. Click. A horror flick played on the Sci Fi Channel and I watched some muscled no-name actor blow the head off a slimy gray alien. Okay, enough of that.

  "So, is this what you do with eternity?" I asked the empty room. "Watch bad television. And without any good nibbles to distract me."

  I wondered if vampires took donors to the movies. The donors would eat popcorn and drink soda and the vampires would eat nothing and drink donors. Popcorn-flavored blood. I snickered at the idea of inviting Sharon to the Olde Tyme Theatre to be my snack.

  After going through all the channels a third time, I settled on Columbo. I sighed. I'd have to get a satellite dish or a subscription to Netflix. Then again, with the whole town switching all activities to nighttime, I'd be busy again with mommy duties. We'd have to start over. School would never be the same. And what about the PTA? Everyone Turned, except Charlene and Ralph, had belonged to it. We'd have to change the name to Preternatural Association of Parents. PAP? Uh… no.

  I wasn't sure how to spend the rest of the night. Either I was stuck watching reruns and infomercials or I had to face the basement and its contents. Or… I could procrastinate. It's not like I wouldn't have the time in say, oh, a hundred years, to worry about it.

  Patrick? I waited, but didn't receive any response. He'd shut off his mind again and I probably wouldn't hear from him. I thought about his children. His wife. My heart ached for him and for all that he had lost over the centuries.

  Patrick? Are you okay?

  He didn't answer though I swear I felt a fingertip brush my temple. Maybe it was my imagination. Or maybe it was him, trying to let me know he was there. Or maybe it was nothing at all and being a vampire was making me nuts.

  I felt so restless… so hollow. Well, damn. I missed Patrick. The only thing I knew for sure was that I lusted like crazy after him. What would it be like to have actual intercourse with Patrick? I'd probably implode.

  But man-oh-man, what a way to go.

  As I lay on the couch daydreaming about sex with Patrick, the low drone of the television was a constant lullaby. Though I wasn't tired, I felt drowsy. The drowsiness melted into a kind of euphoria. After a moment, I felt almost giddy. Then floating… happy… free.

  When the TV went dead and all the downstairs lights flickered off, I didn't feel compelled to disturb my elation. Despite the sudden and total darkness, I could see perfectly well. Granted, I should've been alarmed at the big, furry man-thing that appeared next to my couch. Huh. How had he gotten into the house?

  "You're really tall," I said.

  He leaned over me and snarled.

  "Phew!" I waved a hand in front of my face. "Two words, honey. Breath. Mint."

  His maw opened, saliva dripping from razor teeth, and roared. The garbage-stench of his breath made me gag and the loudness of his roar vibrated through me. On some level, I knew I should be terrified. Yeah. I should've been p
issing my freaking pants. This isn't real, whispered the soft voice of reason, you're dreaming. And dreams can't hurt you. Ssshhh.

  "Go away," I murmured. "Bad, bad dream."

  The monster's blue eyes flashed with triumph. He lifted a huge, hairy arm and swiped down. The ugly yellowed claws raked open my chest.

  Pain ripped through me, but I felt so disconnected, I couldn't comprehend what was happening. I felt a warm sticky liquid splash my neck and face. Oh, right. My blood. It splashed him, too, and matted the fur coat he wore.

  "That hurts," I pointed out. "I would really appreciate it if you'd stop."

  I heard glass shattering and wood snapping. I thought about the French double doors that opened from the breakfast nook onto the patio. Rich had installed those a few years ago. I loved those doors. Those were some great freaking doors. Gone now. Such a shame.

  A loud, angry roar echoed through the house… then ricocheted inside my skull. Heavy footsteps thudded and then I saw another furry creature lope into the living room. Familiar. Tall, brown, and fanged… oh yeah. That guy. He attacked the one still trying to paw my flesh into ribbons.

  Ssshhh, precious one. You're fine. Everything's okay. No need to think. No need to worry.

  I relaxed as the soothing voice rubbed away my headache, the throb of my wounds. I was okay. Sucky dream, that's all.

  The two beasts ripped into each other, pounding with fists, kicking with legs, biting with teeth. It was like watching two fierce lions battling for the zebra. Hey, wait a minute. I was the zebra. I laughed at my little joke, and felt the rusty flavor of blood fill my mouth. It dribbled off my lips. Shit. I couldn't lift my arm to wipe my mouth, either.

  I watched, bemused, until the creatures battled their way out of my line of sight. I heard crashes and growls and fighting. And lots of roaring. Oh for Pete's sake! Enough of the roaring, already. Really, those two should take it outside. How the hell would a bigfoot pay to replace broken furniture and shredded curtains?