Ravens Deep (one)

by Jane Jordan

  “Theo’s remains or what was left of them were re-buried in his grave. Ashes at last, he can never be resurrected. My mother’s and sister’s ashes were placed in their respective tombs.” Darius paused for a few moments, his words made the atmosphere seem very sombre and I felt great sadness and horror for him at what had occurred in his life. Darius, sensing my melancholy, smiled softly at me and his next words were spoken in a more cordial tone.

  “My mother had been wealthy and owned not only Ravens Deep and the farm but all the surrounding lands. Not only inherited from my grandfather Theo, but my father John who had been a man of substantial means. I also owned properties in London, one of which I eventually turned into my museum.

  The portion of Ravens Deep that was destroyed was levelled to the ground and then I salvaged the existing wall to have the chamber built where I now sleep. The foundations of the part of the house which burnt are concealed beneath the undergrowth that has grown up over the years. Now, there is only the memory of them in my mind.

  I inherited everything, the house, farm and surrounding lands. The property in London I already owned and the museum is a private one. In recent years it has had the facade of a rare bookstore, and operated by loyal people that I pay extremely well to take care of business matters.” Seeing the look on my face he added, “They do not know. They think I have the illness I once told you about, so they understand I cannot have too much contact with them, and it explains why all my business transactions are conducted in the hours of darkness. I believe they think of me as some eccentric, reclusive collector, but the family has been loyal and I have never wished them harm.

  Many years later I purchased the house in Parson Place, another safe haven for me

  when I spend time in the city. Existing amongst the living is a constant reminder of the dangers that surround you. That was especially apparent in my early days, when my hunger drove me to be there.” As I watched Darius I noticed a change in his demeanour and a distinctly sinister edge to his voice.

  “It is easier to find prey in a big city where no one pays too much attention to a few corpses here and there, especially when they are found well decomposed or have been in the Thames for long enough to not be suspicious.” I had been entranced, deeply saddened and horrified by his story, shocked into silence throughout most of its content, but now I could contain myself no longer.

  “Why do you come back here? When surely it must be harder for you to exist?” I asked at last. Darius considered for a moment before answering.

  “I find peace here, not true peace, but it quietens my soul. I grew up here, I truly belong here and the need for blood, my hunger, does not control me as it once did. Once it was all consuming and powerful, but now I have learnt control,” he said looking at me. “I have come to believe that being un-dead gets easier with time. At first it is like having a terrifying, tormenting demon inside you, that you have no control over, but to survive you must be able to live amongst the mortals without drawing unwanted attention. Perhaps now that I am older I do not need to feed as much -- not even every night. Any blood will do. Being with you I have gone through enough animals to keep my skin warm and appear more mortal to you.” Darius sighed. “Feeding is in fact of little consequence in the scheme of things, the worse thing is the endless time. Until you have eternity you do not realize how long and tedious it can be,” he remarked wistfully.

  “I have to fill my waking hours with more than feeding and now that is not so demanding, it is even more important to me. In the past I have looked for many distractions, something or someone to spark my interest.” He hesitated for a moment.

  “What I have told you in the past is true, I have travelled extensively and collecting for my museum became a huge source of my interest. I travelled to acquire rare artefacts or a rare book for the bookstore, but in modern times travelling can be very dangerous especially in strange cities so I do not travel so much anymore.”

  “Is that why you decided to complete your ancestry?” I questioned. Darius looked at me thoughtfully before answering.

  “I suppose curiosity and boredom made me decide to complete it in recent years. I decided to find out if any relatives did indeed exist as I believed they must. I had obviously seen my uncle James before I became immortal and I had told him a story of sorts about what had occurred at Ravens Deep. I convinced him that the place was cursed and so was I, and made him promise he would of never return, for I would have killed him. Thankfully he kept his word and never did. Whatever he thought had happened to me, he did not wish to involve his own family, and I never saw him again.

  I vaguely followed the births and deaths of the family down through the generations, they were an interest to me as they were my distant descendants.” As I watched Darius I was suddenly curious myself about this ancestry.

  “So why me?” I asked directly. “Why was I lured to Ravens Deep out of all the others?” Darius leaned back thinking.

  “The advert had been running for a couple of years in the magazine. Perhaps it was a frivolous thing to have done, but it fuelled my curiosity to see who would actually respond to it. Whilst in London I had learned of your father’s death and then a year later your mother’s. Her obituary had your name on it, Madeline Shaw. I was curious about you. I wanted to see what my last descendant looked like, especially because she shared my own mother’s name. Several people had responded to the advert over the years. As you can imagine there have been several James Shaw, but no real connections. It was you above all others who captivated me from the first moment I saw you, and when I saw the resemblance to my mother, the lure was too strong, I had to meet you.” I smiled at him.

  “That evening in the garden when you scared me?” I remarked, remembering. Darius hesitated.

  “No, I first saw you in London. Who do you think left the magazine for you to find?” I looked at him, shocked. Of course he would have seen me before I even came to Exmoor, all the pieces in this strange puzzle suddenly fitted together. The revelation spun around my head for a few seconds.

  “But how did you know I would even pick it up?” I said, referring to the magazine.

  “Because I had watched you on many occasions, leaving the hotel in the evening with various papers and magazines. In fact, it wasn’t the first one left for you, but I felt it was just a matter of time before you would take one home with you.”

  My mind was spinning. It all had been an elaborate plan to lure me to Ravens Deep. I was not sure if I should be feeling upset about that or not. I didn’t’t know what to feel, how could I be angry with him when he was my life now. Other things started to make sense.

  “Darius, did you take the letters from my flat when I went back to London?”

  “Yes,” he said quietly. “I knew you had kept them all. I had watched you from the street. I watched you sit by your window and put them all into a wooden box.”

  “Did you know I took an overdose of opium in London?” He looked at me, startled.

  “You wished to kill yourself because of me?” he asked incredulously.

  “I don’t know, my mind was in turmoil at that time,” I said thinking back. “I couldn’t’t go on without you, and when I read the contents of your letter, I was lost . . . confused. Despite your letter, I didn’t’t want a life without you. I was in such an emotional state, and I imagined I would never see you again. Maybe subconsciously I did try to kill myself, but Charlie found me and took me to hospital,” I said remembering.

  “Yes . . . the boyfriend,” Darius grew quiet his eyes narrowed briefly. “I was in London then, and I sensed something was wrong. I woke early and felt that you were in danger, but the time of day would not permit me to come to you. By the time I could get there, you had already gone. I saw that the door to your flat had been broken, and I was able to walk in and take the letters easily.” He paused for a moment. “The boyfriend,” Darius would not say Charlie’s name, “came back a while later and looked in the box.” He was watching me closely, as
if gauging my reaction, I was in the shadows debating whether to kill him that night, but I thought that he may lead me to you, so I watched and waited and followed him to the hospital. I hated the fact that he was able to be with you, I wanted him dead, but you were all alone, you needed someone. Over the next few months, I stayed mostly in London, watching you from the darkest shadows. When you returned to the flat, I left for Ravens Deep and apart from my usual excursion into the city and the occasional vigil under your window I did not dare to try and see you. When I read your letter telling me you were coming back here, I was in turmoil. I knew with every instinct that I should not allow it, that I should stop you from returning. I believed at my absence, you would realize your quest was hopeless and return to London, but I misjudged your determination and. . . you know the rest. But in truth there was also a part of me that wished you to return.”

  I was still thinking about his previous words. I glared at him, he was deliberately trying to upset me.

  “You were going to kill Charlie?” I asked quietly.

  “Of course, it is the nature of what I am Madeline,” he answered a little dismissively. “He could have been a threat, besides I didn’t’t want to think of you with him.”

  The casual way he said the words made me angry that he could be so blasé about killing somebody I knew well. I didn’t’t want to be with Charlie, but the fact of the matter was his life had been in terrible danger because of me. This was an awful moment, and without thinking I snapped at him.

  “You know, you remind me of your grandfather Theo!” I heard his quick intake of breath.

  “Enlighten me,” he said sharply. I was shocked at my remark, but angry enough to not allow the point to drop.

  “That’s the sort of attitude I imagine he would have had.” I regretted my words and wished I had not spoken as Darius’s anger was obvious.

  “You are his descendant too!” His eyes were blazing and darkly menacing. “If I am such a monster what does that make you? For wanting to live your life with one.” His voice was aggressive and threatening as he continued. “I gave you the opportunity to be free of me and you choose not to, yet still you persist in tormenting me!”

  He was destroying my peace of mind, and I was reeling from the sting in his words. I didn’t know what to say, so I stood up and turned from him. I walked to the fireplace with my back to him and tried to fight back the tears that threatened to fall at any moment.

  My thoughts were of Charlie and the relief that he was still alive, but then my thoughts flew to Samuel Dunklin. Did Darius kill Samuel, because I had spoken of Ravens Deep that day in the park, it was I who had probably sealed his fate.

  “Yes, I did.” Darius’s voice was like ice and there was something like satisfaction in his tone. “I can hear your thoughts clearly, Madeline.” I turned to find him standing close behind me and his eyes betrayed the rage he was feeling.

  “You have to accept that I cannot expose myself or this house,” he said darkly. The tears ran down my face, I couldn’t control my emotion no longer.

  “I know,” I said sadly. “I’m sorry Darius.” I brought my hand to his hair and let it run through my fingers. “I do accept what you are. You are right, I am Theo’s descendant also and I would be just as ruthless if anything were to threaten your existence. I do not mean to torment you, but you cannot talk of killing people I know and expect me not to react.” A dark expression seemed to pass across his face.

  “You know that you break my heart, Madeline, but do not try and hurt me with your words. If you anger me that is when you are most at risk from me. You will do well to remember that.” In his most disturbing gaze I found the sincerity of those words.

  “I know,” I said at last, feeling suddenly threatened by his closeness and the words he had just uttered. I looked warily up at him.

  “Is that why you were so concerned that he was cremated. . . Samuel?” I asked quietly brushing away my tears. Darius turned from me.

  “Everybody has been cremated in this area for generations. When the terrible things happened here, I made it known that the only way to rid the moors of this curse was to ensure any dead bodies were burnt.” His previous menacing tone seemed to calm.

  “The stories and folklore started with me, nowadays no-one can remember how and why they began and the stories have been handed down from generation to generation. Now there is no one left alive to make any correct assumptions anymore. It is good that the stories live on and that it remains so.”

  I relaxed somewhat as his earlier ferociousness was not so apparent. I tried to clarify his words in my mind and I reiterated, “Only by being bitten can you become infected, but if you are drained of all your blood you are dead anyway?”

  “Yes,” he said looking at me. “Why is this important?”

  “I was just thinking that it didn’t’t really matter if Samuel Dunklin was not cremated.”

  “It’s best that the tradition remains,” he said simply.

  “How long after you were bitten did you truly become immortal?” I said, trying to

  understand all the details and I sat down again. Darius sat close beside me. All the tension between us had gone, it was replaced by his irresistible charm once more.

  “With me it took just under two weeks. At first any food I tried to eat sickened me, then bright lights, especially sunlight, made my skin tingle and my eyes extremely sensitive. I felt as though I was truly dying and my mind was tormented. I would see things move, but they had not. I had disturbing hallucinations, as I would see people I knew to be dead cross my path as I walked, and just when I could stand the agony and torment no more -- I changed. Then an intense instant hunger consumed me until I was forced to partake of the bloodlust, as only that could satisfy my craving. At first I killed indiscriminately. My servants were the first to go, then the tenants at the farm and the animals in the field. In those early days, there was not enough to sustain me here and I had to leave for the city to quench my thirst. The first year was the worst, but slowly I began to choose my victims -- the ones that wouldn’t’t be missed, vagrants, the homeless and runaways.” I shivered at the horror of it all. Darius took my hand.

  “I should not tell you anymore, I can see the horror in your eyes.”

  “No,” I protested. “I want to know, I want to know everything.” I faltered for a few moments. “So surely there must be others, when the priest revived Theo was it luck that it worked, or was he the first ever?”

  “No, Father Talus came from Italy originally; he knew it was possible. It was just by chance that the Grimoire came into his possession and with it the darkest secrets of the church,” Darius said sombrely.

  “You mean the church is concealing the immortals?” I was scandalized, hardly able to believe what he was telling me.

  “I have to believe that,” Darius said simply. “After all my years of research and travels and threatening a few priests along the way, I deciphered the strange writings in the Grimoire. I came to the conclusion there is a sector hidden in the depths of the Vatican in Rome, a hidden sector that is concealed and surrounded by the religious hypocrisy of what we know as the church today. This elite few have the dark connections to the immortals, they know how to make them and they know how to kill them. After all, was it not the church who invented the ideology of the devil to scare its followers into belief?”

  I was shocked at the revelation, horrified by the implications of what I was hearing. Everyone knew the church was corrupt, but this corruption went deeper than anyone could ever have imagined. After a moment or two the realization came into my head. “So there are others like you?”

  “I have witnessed only one,” he said casually. I stared at him hardly daring to ask.

  “Who? Where?”

  “In London many years ago,” he said bemused. “I saw him observing me and he watched me watching him.”

  “What did you say to him?” I asked. I could not imagine how strange that reality must have been. Darius s
miled at me.

  “We are not social creatures. We barely acknowledged each other, he was probably wondering if I was any sort of threat to him. I sensed him one more time in London and never since, but as I said that was many years ago now.”

  Chapter Twenty - Life with an Immortal

  At first I was haunted by the stories Darius had told me, but before long I opened my mind to understand and accept every part of them. I had willingly committed myself to him and he had allowed me to bear witness to his true existence. With that privilege bestowed upon me, I knew that he would never let me leave him. It was not that I wanted to, but occasionally the life I had chosen to lead evoked an enduring sadness.

  On the surface our love seemed truly cursed, for how could it ever be more than the pain and horror of his existence. But despite the darkness, there were many more hours of happiness and as the days turned into weeks and months, I believed that with Darius by my side and in the tranquillity of life at Ravens Deep, I could forget the horror of what his life entailed.

  Whether I was truly under some enchantment, or a spell of my own making, I could never be certain. The only thing I was sure of was my love for him and besides that I refused to let anything else concern me. Darius kept much of the horror from me, protecting me from his underworld existence of perpetual shadow. I never witnessed anything or anyone being killed, when it happened it was far from my eyes or ears. It was like it happened in a dream, a horrific dream, but one that didn’t’t interfere in my world too much.

  We spent the hours of darkness together, and I remained bewitched and entranced living my life only for him. Darius always had mesmerized me, but now it was even more so and I learned what a truly intoxicating being he was. He told me elaborate stories of his travels, detailed accounts of how he had searched out ancient libraries and church records, in search of some fact that would reveal how his existence was possible. Apart from the scribbling of ancient monks on yellowed parchments and the strange writing in the Grimoire, he never turned up any other evidence to support the theory that there were many others like himself. Darius believed when they existed, they would have been exposed, hunted down and fallen by the wayside over the centuries. Decades ago he had been disheartened by his endless searching across Europe for a reason or an answer, and no closer to finding one, he had returned to England and to his beloved