***
There was pain. Nothing but pain. No light, no warmth, no cold, no darkness. No memory, no time. Just pain. The pain, and then the voice.
It will be over soon, the dark, sweet voice emerged over the pain. It was a counterpoint to the pain, and she clung to it. It steadied her, oriented her in the darkness. So there was darkness, something more than the pain. Pain and darkness was better than just pain. And the voice ….
There, it’s starting to get better now, isn’t it? the voice came again.
It is true, she realized. The voice spoke truth. The pain was diminishing. As the pain waned, it made room in her mind.
Are you feeling better now? the voice asked.
Am I? she responded. I? she wondered.
“Elisa?” a different voice called. It was not as sweet as the voice in her mind, did not caress her being as it spoke.
Elisa? she wondered. I am Elisa, she realized.
“Elisa?” the not-as-sweet voice called again. It sounded worried. Sounded. Elisa became aware that the sound was physical, of her body. From there, awareness that she had a body swept over her. Her body felt almost numb after the intensity of the pain, but she could feel. She could feel something supporting her back, holding her limp body up. Soft, warm, and strong. An arm, she thought triumphantly.
A laugh echoed through her mind. Well, don’t dawdle, the sweet voice said, jovial. Open your eyes, get up, experience your new body. It is time to discover the gift I have given you. Elisa wanted to obey the voice. To please it would bring meaning to her life.
Elisa opened her eyes and emerged from the darkness. She lifted her head and saw that she was being held in the arms of a dark-haired man with eyes that were silvery-red where they should have been green. Eyes full of concern and worry.
Mikhael, the voice informed her. She wanted to agree, but something within her refused even though it tore at her heart to refuse the silken voice. She almost gave in, but she could not refuse this truth.
“Miguel?” she asked aloud. She saw relief wash over his handsome features.
“Is it done?” he asked, and she paused to consider her response. Before she could give any, however, he nodded, satisfied. Miguel pulled her close and held her tight. “I’m glad you’re all right,” he whispered into her hair before releasing her.
Up on your feet, the voice in her mind prodded her. Miguel stood and helped her up. She rose, her body full of strength and grace. She stood, noticing her surroundings for the first time. The walls were bare stone, the floor covered in dirt and decaying filth.
Disgusting little cave, Elisa thought as she wrinkled her nose. Despite the darkness, Elisa could see into every nook and cranny as clearly as though it were lit with sunlight. The cave may be less than impressive, she thought with a grin, but at least my sight is something.
The sight of you is certainly something, the voice responded to her with a smile. Elisa warmed at the compliment.
You are most kind, she said, pleased. Who are you?
Ah! How rude of me not to introduce myself! the voice said. I am your master. My name is Theron, and I created you.
Created me? she asked. Again, a part of her rebelled at the comment; something in her knew it was not true. She had existed before.
Transformed you then, Theron said with an amused smile in his voice. You came to me, seeking a change, and I gave it to you. All that you now are, I have given to you.
“Elisa,” Miguel said, gently caressed her cheek and drawing her attention back to the world around her. “Elisa, you must not trust everything he says. He will try to confuse you. Do you remember coming here?”
Elisa paused, searching for memories from before the pain. Concentrating was difficult; there was so much to see. Every movement of water dripping down the walls distracted her, every smell was distinct, though unrecognizable. She wanted to learn of each one. She felt and heard every little movement of the stale air through the cave, and it mesmerized her. There was just so much and rather than let it overwhelm her, Elisa soaked it all in. But she was supposed to be doing something ….
“Elisa?” Miguel prodded again, breaking through her reverie.
“Yes,” she answered, determined not to be sucked in by her senses again. “Yes, I remember, I think.” She did remember, now that she tried to think about it. “When I try to think, the memories are all faded, as though I experienced them through a numbing fog.” Miguel nodded in reassurance and she continued. “I remember waiting for you outside, but something compelled me in.”
“Theron,” Miguel hissed. Elisa shrank back. How could he have such contempt for that beautiful voice? The only thing she wanted more than to obey that voice was, perhaps, to please it. Him.
You’re not telling him all, Theron observed.
I am ashamed, she said, looking away from Miguel. He was so beautiful and so perfect, so much more than I was. I came in because I thought you could help me become something great enough that he might forget her. Elisa wasn’t sure who that ‘her’ was yet, but the memory of a dark woman whom she despised flitted through her mind. She would remember.
And so I have, Theron said, she could feel him nod in her mind. Working together, the two of us plus time, we will help him do just that.
What should I do? she asked.
He fights me, Theron said with despair coloring his voice. It tires me so. Soothe him so that he won’t fight us so hard.
“Don’t say it like that,” Elisa crooned to Miguel, reaching up to his face. “Look at what he has done to me. Look at what he has done for us.”
You are indestructible now, immortal. You two will live forever, Theron coached her.
“We can be together now without fear. Nothing can hurt or separate us now.”
Miguel held her closer.
***
Elisa turned faded memories over in her mind as she brushed her golden hair. Theron had warned her that, if she didn’t revive the memories, they would die. Elisa didn’t want that. If she forgot about her then she might slip up, might forget an important detail that would tip Miguel off that Elisa was playing him false. Theron insisted that Miguel didn’t know of her deceit; Miguel believed what she had told him. But there were times that she wasn’t so sure. When he stared off into the distance. When he had called her his ‘dark one.’
Elisa went over every memory she had of her nemesis, the old hate flaring up as each pass drew her closer to the name.
“Mariah,” she hissed. With the name came memories, one after another, like a rope pulled from a fog. Mariah had always had it better, always stealing what should have been Elisa’s. It wasn’t just the stupid dog; Elisa wouldn’t have wanted that ugly mutt anyway. Mariah stole everyone’s attention. They listened to Mariah when they wouldn’t hear Elisa. They praised Mariah when Elisa had worked just as hard. And to add insult to injury, Mariah had hidden the fact that she was mestizo, but no one seemed to care. Elisa was better than Mariah, inherently, but the stupid cow had never understood to show deference. She’d never even shown appreciation for being allowed into such a privileged circle.
When they were children, it had pricked at Elisa, but they had been playmates, friends even. Mariah had always tried to be nice, so Elisa had been forced to let it go. But then Mariah had done the unforgivable. She had stolen from her the only thing Elisa had ever, truly wanted: Miguel.
Mariah had abused him, cast him off, rebuffed him, and he had come to Elisa seeking solace. They had suited each other and were becoming close. Miguel had even kissed her in the moonlight on a balcony. Then, of course, Mariah had interfered and ruined it all. Jealous, the stupid cow had swooped in and swept him away. Mariah’d had him so well trained that she needed only to beckon and Miguel had dropped everything to run back to her like a stupid little puppy.
Well, what did it matter now? Mariah had run off to find him, and if she wasn’t dead yet, she was probably wandering around the wilderness hopelessly lost while Elisa was with Miguel. Even better, E
lisa was now immortal and perfect. Mariah would never compare to her now and, with time, Mariah would fade not only from the Earth, but from Miguel’s mind as well.
Elisa had won. He is mine.
Chapter 6
“Come.” Sophus beckoned to Mariah. “Tell me what you think of this bit of stone.”
She tucked the book she had brought with her under her arm and joined him near the wall. The stone in question was a particular stretch of the wall that he had smoothed in preparation for sculpting. He had been trying to teach her how to pick good material; no doubt he wanted to see what she’d retained.
She looked at it critically, observing the patterns in the flecked stone, and ran her hand across, searching for flaws. “I don’t feel anything that would give concern,” she said, as she continued to run her eyes and hands over the grain. “The pattern in the grain is beautiful, though. I feel almost as though I could understand its very history, if I could just look … deeper.” Mariah’s voice trailed off as she watched the frozen flecks of mineral in the wall. They called to her, like a voice she couldn’t quite hear, and then a flowing, sinuous line appeared before her. Nothing in the rock had changed, but her mind caught the pattern.
“There’s a vein here,” she said, tracing her finger across the smooth wall, “and it’s shaped just ….” She trailed off again as she tried futilely to express the movement of the vein with her hand. Suddenly, she had to know where it went, how it flowed, and her mind followed it through the stone. “It’s so beautiful, like a silk scarf in the wind, but frozen in stone.”
She followed it, lost in its form, around the twisting, flowing paths until it abruptly ended. A hand on her shoulder snapped her abruptly back to her body and she staggered with the shock.
“What was that?” Sophus asked, helping her to the stone floor. Mariah tucked her skirts beneath her and leaned her head back against the wall, trying to wrap her mind around what she’d done.
“I am not really sure. I just got so caught up in the pattern, and then suddenly I understood it. I wanted to see more of it and so I just … went. I don’t know.”
Sophus took a seat beside her on the immaculately clean floor. He is always so fastidious, she thought as she fought against the incongruity of this clean, elegant man sitting on a stone floor. Come to think of it, she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him sit on anything besides his throne and couches. Of course, they had no need to sit; as far as she could tell their muscles never fatigued. She laughed despite her mental exhaustion, and Sophus gave her a questioning look.
“We’re like the stone itself, aren’t we?” she said.
“And how is that?” he asked.
“We could stand still forever, frozen like your statues, and no one would know the difference.”
Sophus gave her a cunning grin. “You could indeed, but that would get terribly dull.”
“Have you ever tried it?”
“Terribly dull.” He leaned his head against the smooth rock and got a distant look in his eye. “The mind, if given the freedom to wander where it will, is an amazing thing, but without stimulus, things get very repetitive and dreary. The mind yearns to do, not just to be.”
“Is that why you sculpt?”
He laughed. “Never ask an artist why he creates. If he could tell you in words all that he feels, he wouldn’t be compelled to his art.”
Mariah looked at the book in her hands. What was she compelled to? Memory stirred in the back of her mind and she could feel that wind-that-wasn’t, the voice from when she woke, pulling her gently toward it. Without moving her body, she stood up and looked around. She could still see the book in her hands before her, and yet in her mind’s eye she now stood in a field of flowers, mountains to one side and a city to the other. She inhaled and could taste the sea beyond the city, and the coming rain in the air.
The gentle breeze that had beckoned to her before now caressed her face, calling her forward. She turned to follow it, but her physical body, trying to obey, toppled sideways. With a start, she reached out to break her fall and found herself back in Sophus’s cave, his hand on her arm to steady her.
“Again?” he asked with humor in his voice. “I’m hoping this won’t be a regular thing. As much as I enjoy being near you, I’m afraid that constantly breaking your falls will grow tedious, and I can’t have you gouging my floors.”
Mariah shook her head. “I’m sure I’ll get used to it. Otherwise, we can just tie a bunch of pillows around me and the floors will be safe.”
Sophus chuckled. “Tell me, though, what are you doing that makes you lose your balance? That sort of thing is most uncouth in an immortal, you know. Of course, we can forgive you because you’re still so young.”
Mariah ignored the taunt and thought about the question. What had she done? “It’s almost like daydreaming, I suppose. There was a memory that tickled the back of my mind, and as I thought about it, it was like that dream from when I changed. Do you remember? It’s like a waking dream, but when I tried to move, so did my body and … well. You see how that turned out.”
Sophus nodded. “Waking dreams, and an ability to see things beyond your sight. Well, as far as abilities go, I think I did well with you.”
“Abilities?” Mariah asked. “Are you telling me there is even more to this life?”
Sophus stood, holding his hand out to help her to her feet as well. “It’s just as you said before — we are what we were, only more. A person who is, shall we say, very charismatic, might be even better at manipulating or even controlling people as an immortal. You, perhaps, had a way with dreams and seeing things; now you can do it even better. Time will tell. You will need to practice and learn what you can do.”
Sophus gestured toward the wall. “Well, I think I know what I’m going to do with this now. There’s no point in hanging around here watching me work. I don’t enjoy talking through the noise.”
“I’ll see you later, then,” Mariah said, glad of the dismissal. She had things to learn.
Mariah ran her fingers over the item on her dresser. Some of them were simply part of the décor, but some, she knew, were hers. She needed to know what had brought her here, why she had needed to become a vampire, and what it was it that she needed to do. Surely something here could lead her into her past? The objects must have been important, or else why would she have brought them?
She chose a jewelry box and sat down at the table to examine it. The box itself appeared to be just a box, and when she tried to concentrate on it the way that she had with the stone, nothing happened. It simply wasn’t interesting enough, despite its elegant carving. Mariah opened the box and rifled through the jewelry. There were sets of earrings — Mariah touched her ears to find that no holes remained, rendering the earrings useless — and matching necklaces, as well as a few rings and barrettes. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to why they were together, and despite inspecting each thoroughly, nothing sparked her memory. Exasperated, Mariah closed the box.
There was a knock at the door and Mariah looked up as a middle-aged Wayuu woman entered. Wuchii, Mariah recalled, giving her a cordial smile. “I remember you.”
“I’m glad of it,” Wuchii said in Wayuunaiki. Mariah was surprised and gratified to realize that she understood it. Though she had seen the other women bustling about their tasks, she had not yet spoken to any of them, save Iráma who had spoken in Castilian.
“I remember that we were friends, too,” Mariah responded, speaking in her friend’s tongue.
“I’d like to think so. It’s much safer for me that way, eh?” The woman elbowed Mariah and laughed.
“Could you tell me, is this all mine?” she asked, gesturing broadly to the room.
“If Lord Sophus gave it to you, then I suppose it is yours, isn’t it?” Wuchii shrugged and began moving things about the room, straightening the already-clean area.
Mariah pursed her lips. She didn’t feel the same sense of caution with Wuchii that she felt around Sophus, but th
e sideways answer from the other woman made her hesitate. While Sophus had claimed that he planned to sculpt and was supposedly on the other side of the vast labyrinthine lair, she wouldn’t have put it past him to return to his rooms to spy on her.
“Would you mind helping me with something?” Mariah asked. “I’ve a mind to wear a certain necklace; really, it’s my favorite one, and I just can’t remember where I put it.”
Wuchii grinned and gave her a knowing nod. “I think I know just the one you’re thinking of.” She rummaged about for a moment or two before picking a box from the top of the dresser. “I think it’ll be in here.”
“Thank you.” Mariah reached for the box, but Wuchii slipped something else into her hand instead, and set the box on the table. What is this? she asked with her eyes.
“Not to worry, waré.” Wuchii said as she shook her head and put a finger to her lips. Mariah looked down at her hand as Wuchii left.
Lying in her hand was a small, brightly woven bag. The colors jumped out at her, like a story begging to be heard. They pulled at her mind, encouraging her to open the bag. She loosened the ties and a small, red stone, carved in the shape of a bird, tumbled onto Mariah’s hand. Tu’uma, the word came to her mind, a sacred, precious stone to the Wayuu. She ran her fingers gently over the bird as memory teased at her. Focusing on the figure in her hand, she allowed her mind to wander.
As before, Mariah found herself in the field, this time bursting with flowers, as the scent of impending rain and the breeze holding whispering voices washed over her. Determined not to fall over this time, Mariah concentrated on keeping her feet planted. Raising her hand to inspect the figurine, she found instead a living bird who flitted around her, his black feathers glinting with gold.
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