by Ray Wallace
"I can save you, you know."
Nicolae said nothing, simply curled in upon himself. Obviously the man was the Devil, or a demon at least, sent to add to his torment in these, his final hours. For the thought of being saved... He knew such a thing was not possible. It was simply too much to bear.
"That's what you want, isn't it? To be saved?"
"Go away..." Nicolae managed, or thought he did. His mouth was so dry, his throat nothing more than a thin passageway of searing agony.
Then, without warning, there were hands on his face, the flesh so cold, the fingers unimaginably strong, and they were pulling at his jaw, forcing his mouth open. He was too weak to fight for long, could not even spit up the thick, salty liquid that suddenly splashed over his tongue, that ran in soothing rivulets down his parched, constricted throat. Not that he would have anyway. He could not remember a drink ever tasting so sweet.
"Someday, you'll thank me for this," said the man. Then he released his grip and the soothing draught was taken away.
"More..." murmured Nicolae. "Please, more..."
There was a chuckle. "No, I believe you've had quite enough." Then there were footsteps walking away from where he lay on the floor, the sound of the door opening, the whistle of wind entering the room. "A word of advice. When you see the light - and soon enough you'll know which light I mean - make sure you go into it." Then the door closed and Nicolae was alone.
And that's how he died, alone, sick with fever, wracked with pain and chill, the stranger's parting words echoing in his mind.
At some point he did see a light amid the endless dark of death, and he did go into it. And he was reborn.
After his resurrection it was as though the sickness had never been.
He saw that his savior had returned, was now seated in a wooden chair near the front door.
Nicolae sat up, cast aside the blanket, then climbed to his feet. He stood there a minute, wondering at this strange transformation. He'd never felt better in his life.
"How...?"
"That is the question, isn't it?" came the reply. "No one really knows for sure. Just be glad it works, yes?"
Nicolae looked about the tiny room, saw that the shuttered openings that served as windows to either side of the door had been covered with blankets. A warning flashed through his head. Something very dangerous there. He felt a surge of anxiety.
The man chuckled. "You have every right to be afraid. It is morning. The sun is up. Even a tiny sliver of that burning light can be quite dangerous. After today you will sleep through all of this. It is simply the shock of your... rebirth... that has you awake now. Soon that will wear off and you will sleep the daylight hours away. That is, until you are very old. Like me. I don't sleep much anymore. The curse of my advanced years, I suppose."
That night Nicolae gave his parents, his friends and relatives a proper burial. With his newfound strength he was able to dig the necessary graves in the frozen earth, to carry the bodies one after the other to the makeshift cemetery he had created. Then, under cover of darkness, he left the village, the only place he had ever known, in the company of the man who had given him this new life. And he never returned.
His benefactor's name was Alexander. And much to Nicolae's surprise, he came to discover that the man was not Russian, that he had actually been born in "the country now known as England."
"But you speak the language so well."
Alexander smiled. "I have had many years to practice."
Traveling on horseback, it took them less than two hours to reach the nearest town. As Alexander had promised, the place had been spared the worst of the plague that had so devastated Nicolae's village. There were people here, living, breathing, sleeping in their beds. As they rode among the tiny houses, Nicolae could sense those who slumbered there, all that blood, that warm flesh, begging to be devoured. The hunger had him in its grip by then, forced him to dismount and enter the nearest abode and tear his way through the place like a creature from some vile, unthinkable underworld. And as he feasted he could hear Alexander outside goading him on: "Yes, my child! Yes! Give in to your needs. Take what you will. Hear them scream, watch them tremble at your approach!"
Later, after the hunger was satiated, as they rode out of town toward whatever unknown destination awaited, a foul mood settled over Nicolae. He thought of himself as some sort of animal. A lowly beast with no control over its inhibitions. A fairy tale monster come to life, sent to strike fear into the hearts of children everywhere.
Seeing his expression, Alexander laughed. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it," he said. "You'll even learn to enjoy it. Most of us feel the way you do in the beginning. But once you truly come to understand what it is that you've become, what you're capable of, well, then you'll see things in a whole new light."
A few of the townspeople were out, awakened by the screams, the raucous sounds of Nicolae's feeding. But none stood in the immortal duo's way. No one did a thing to stop them.
"You see," said Alexander, "they understand. At least a little. They have some idea of what it is that passes by this cold winter night. Even if you do not."
And much as Alexander told him, it didn't take long for Nicolae to come to grips with what was happening to him. He was, if nothing else, a pragmatist, as were most of those he had loved and grown up among. Living through such long, hard winters tended to mold a certain type of person, one who has learned to deal with reality on its most unforgiving terms. Those who were given to bemoaning their lots in life did not do well under such conditions. Adapt or suffer was the unspoken mantra of Nicolae's people. He chose the former. He adapted, he faced his new situation head-on and dealt with it. And quickly discovered that there was quite a bit to be thankful for.
He was still alive, for one thing. Not in the sense normally attributed to most living things, no, but alive nonetheless. And he was strong. And fast. Practically impervious to the cold. And Alexander said that he would never grow old or be sick again, that he could, theoretically, live forever. As long as he avoided the sun. And as long as he took the proper precautions to protect himself while he slept. This was most easily accomplished by resting in hidden places or far from those who might suspect him for the creature of darkness that he was and wish to do him harm. Alexander was full of advice. Whether most of it was worthwhile or not only time would tell. For now Nicolae had decided to take the man at his word and listen to the little pieces of undead wisdom he offered. It wasn't as though there was anyone else around who could answer the myriad questions that seemed to pervade his thoughts.
Alexander warned him about eating the brains of his victims. "It will make you sick, fill your mind with the most vivid and overpowering hallucinations. When you are older, much older, and stronger, you may be able to control the intensity of these visions, to make some sense of them. But for now..." Alexander gave him a stern look and shook his head. "I have seen others of our kind go quite mad from it."
Their relationship took a significant and not wholly unexpected turn a few weeks after Nicolae's deliverance from death. They had journeyed to the city of St. Petersburg, where they took a room at one of the more luxurious hotels immediately upon their arrival. It seemed that Alexander had a fair amount of wealth hidden in various accounts throughout the city and a number of connections that would give him access to it no matter what hour of the evening it might be. "Accruing riches is a simple enough prospect when one has as much time as we do," Alexander informed Nicolae with a smile. The hotel room was a study in opulence, unlike anything Nicolae had ever seen before: the silk curtains on the windows, the thick carpeting on the floor, the silver and brass candelabras positioned about the place, the ornately carved furniture, and, of course, the sprawling four poster bed. It wasn't long before Alexander pulled Nicolae to the bed, where the master went about the task of removing the clothes that covered his apprentice's flawless, immortal skin. Nicolae had fed recently, found himself filled with a kind of wild sexual energy which was one
of the reasons he did not object outright to what was happening. It was the first time Nicolae had ever been with a member of the same sex in that way. Such practices were frowned upon, if not openly condemned, among the people of his village. This had not been a problem for Nicolae as he had never found himself attracted to another man. No, his lusts had always been fueled by the sight and touch of a woman. And he was not attracted to Alexander, either. At least, not like that. For that one night, though, he allowed Alexander to do as he wished. He owed the older immortal so much, didn't he? Surely this was not so much to give in return for eternal life.
Afterward, Nicolae lay there among the rumpled bed covers as the sun claimed the sky outside. As he drifted off to sleep he promised himself one thing: "Never again." He felt used. Worse than that, he felt some small shame at allowing himself to be used. Here he discovered one of the ways in which he differed from the mortal he had once been. In that previous incarnation, he knew, he would have been filled with repulsion and self loathing. Now, after passing through death, the situation did not carry nearly the weight it once would have. It was a mildly regrettable occurrence, one that he would not allow to happen again. Nothing more. No point in dwelling upon it.
The following evening he resisted Alexander's advances, was glad when the other man seemed to take it in stride. "As you wish," his master said, then made no further attempts at seduction. Nicolae had expected angry words, but it was obvious that Alexander was much too proud for any such antics. Or maybe the matter held little import for him also, was nothing more than another of the myriad minor incidences in his long existence. How could Nicolae possibly understand the thought processes of such an ancient being?
As the nights went by, Nicolae was relieved to find that his and Alexander's relationship seemed to have reverted to what it had been before they came to the city, one of teacher and student. No word of the time when it had become something more was ever mentioned. And that was just fine with Nicolae.
There was one moment, though, when he realized that Alexander may not have gotten over what had happened quite as easily as he let on. Nicolae had gone off, alone, to feed while Alexander entertained a few guests at the hotel. Later, as dawn neared, long after the visitors had gone home, Nicolae found himself telling Alexander of how he had earlier entered the apartment of a beautiful woman, how he had bedded her before using her to satiate his hunger.
Alexander frowned at this. "It's disgusting, really, fucking your food like that."
Nicolae laughed. "You're just jealous," he said. The look on his master's face informed him of how close to the truth his words had struck. Nicolae felt some remorse as he realized that things between the two of them would never truly be the way they had once been.
It was in St. Petersburg where Nicolae learned of Alexander's magical powder. Leaving mutilated corpses strewn about the countryside was one thing. The people there were terribly superstitious, would attribute such vicious killings to all manner of supernatural beasts, would more often than not simply offer up a prayer, then go home and lock their doors, hoping that they would not become victims themselves. But in the city, one had to be more careful. Sure, Alexander had some powerful friends there, but they would offer little protection if an angry, organized mob decided to come after any monster found prowling the streets at night.
"While we're here, we must take care to cover our tracks," Alexander told his young prot‚g‚ the very first evening they arrived at St. Petersburg. Before they had even reached their hotel they had attacked and fed upon a homeless man mumbling incoherently to himself in a dark alleyway that ran behind a row of shops. Nicolae had watched, mesmerized, as Alexander removed a pouch from within the folds of his jacket, poured a small amount of a dark powder contained within the pouch onto his hand. He then sprinkled the powder over the ruined body sprawled at his feet and whispered some strange words that Nicolae could not understand. With a hiss the body began to smoke and burn. Within minutes nothing remained but a pile of ash which Alexander scattered with a kick of one booted foot.
"How did you do that?" asked Nicolae as Alexander returned the pouch to its hiding place.
"Ah, just a little trick I learned some years ago. The powder is nothing more than some common herbs, finely ground. The words an ancient, demonic spell." He laughed at the shocked expression that crossed Nicolae's face. "Actually, my young comrade, they are mostly nonsense, something I made up. The powder, the spell, they simply focus the mind. An easy trick, really, once you have learned to control your abilities. Perhaps I will teach it to you some day. That, and so many other things."
It wasn't until nearly a year after his rebirth that he encountered a female of his kind. Nicolae and his master were still in St. Petersburg. Winter was laying claim to the city as the first snow of the season began to fall. They were at a party thrown by one of Alexander's wealthy associates. Nicolae was alone in the sprawling manor's library, enthralled by the sheer amount of books the house's owner had managed to compile. There had only been a handful of books in the village where he grew up. Here there must have been thousands of volumes lining the shelves that covered three of the room's walls. He was perusing an elaborately bound collection of poems by the great Alexander Pushkin, caught up in the fluidity and bold imagery of the man's prose. For a moment he toyed with the idea that the poet and the man who had been his constant companion these last several months were one in the same. He knew that such a thing was not possible, though. His master was no poet. He was much too level-headed an individual. This did not mean that he saw no beauty in the world around him, only that when he did he simply called it what it was. To him a flower was a flower, a ballad a ballad. He would never refer to the former as "evidence of the Creator's hand at work" or the latter as "a melody haunting enough to capture the soul." Even his lovemaking that one evening had been oddly uninspired, a shortcoming that could not have been due to lack of experience. Nicolae wondered at the number of partners the man had taken before they had met on that fateful winter evening. He assumed there had been many. Hundreds? Thousands? Maybe Alexander had once been a more impassioned individual. Maybe all the years had changed him, had slowly dimmed the fire burning in his long silent heart. Nicolae shuddered at the thought. He'd rather die a final death than to ever become such a being.
A particular passage caught his eye which he read aloud:
"'I say to myself the years will fly,
And however many are here, we shall all
Go down under the eternal vaults.
Someone's hour is already at hand.' "
He had to chuckle at that. The eternal vaults do not necessarily claim us all, he thought.
"That's always been a favorite of mine."
The voice startled him and he looked up from the book quickly, turned his gaze toward the room's lone entrance. A woman stood there in the doorway. Young. Attractive. A long red dress clung to her slender form, the extravagant garment a slightly brighter shade than the bright auburn of her flowing tresses. Nicolae immediately chastised himself for being so caught off his guard, so unaware of his surroundings. With his heightened sense of hearing it was practically impossible for anyone to sneak up on him. Mr. Pushkin's elegant prose must have claimed his mind more than he realized. He took a closer look at his visitor, the way she held herself, the flawless, pale skin of her exposed arms, shoulders, and face. And then he knew. She's one of us. That's how she'd approached him so stealthily. It was one of the attributes of the skilled hunter. Under Alexander's guidance, he himself had learned to stalk his prey in nearly complete silence. And when Alexander wanted to, when he decided to put his formidable talents to use, he could become all but invisible.
Noticing Nicolae's reaction, the woman said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."
"Don't apologize," said Nicolae as he returned the book to its home upon a nearby shelf. "I should have heard you coming."
"Spoken like a true student of Alexander." The way she said this made it clear she
did not mean it as a compliment.
So she knew his master. Was there something between the two of them?
"Yes, he has taught me a thing or two."
She smiled. "I'll bet he has."
Nicolae felt some anger at this, let it show in his expression.
As suddenly as the woman's smile appeared, it faded. "Now I really am sorry," she said. "I did not come here to fight. By the way, my name is Katrina." She stepped fully into the room, approached him, offered him a dainty hand which he took and brought to his lips, albeit a little reluctantly.
"Nicolae," he said by way of introduction after relinquishing his grasp. "So what brings you to the library?"
"Why, the opportunity to meet my newest sibling, of course."
It took him a moment to discern the meaning of her words. Then it hit him. "Alexander...made you too?"
"Made me?" She uttered a short laugh. "That's one way of putting it. Yes, Alexander offered me his little 'gift.' Well, he forced it upon me, to be more accurate. Then he welcomed me with open arms into his family, as any good father should."
"His family?"
She raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "So the rumors are true."
"Rumors?" Nicolae was doing his best to keep up with the conversation.
"They say he has been off traipsing about the country, traveling here and there, going wherever the wind or an unexplored road may take him, not a thought or a concern in the world for the family he so inexplicably left behind."
"Wait a minute. What family?"
Katrina's words turned harsh. "His family. His precious Coven. Apparently not so precious after all. He let us taste his blood. All of us. Brought us all together. Thirteen in all. The perfect number. Or so he claimed. Together we were strong. Together we would stay that way. That's what he liked to tell us. And then one day he left us. Abandoned us! And it all fell apart. The Coven scattered. We were nothing without him."