Delivered to Eternity, An Alesta the Vampire Book

by Yirak, Laura

  The vampire fell back down to earth and landed softly on the beach to the sound of deep laughter. William was standing before her, his kilt flapping in the breeze. His eyes were a bright red piercing the night. He stood tall, shoulders back, arms on hips. He opened his mouth and flashed his fanged smile.

  “I knew you couldn’t stop yourself. I told you, you’d do it.” William continued his deep laugh.

  Alesta came to. The power was still there, but she transformed back to her human self and stood naked before him. Her hair rested over her breasts, with all else open to the fresh air.

  She pointed her finger at him, “You set me up! You knew all along that this would happen. You knew he was here,” she screamed and turned to look at Ian on the beach. She ran over to him and pulled him onto her lap crying.

  “He cared for me. He said he cared for me.” She rocked back and forth.

  “You’re MY wife. I am the only one who really loves you Alesta. You deserve this. This is my lesson to you. ” William turned and vanished.

  She cried in horror as she held the dead body, “Oh Ian!”

  The fire was out now. Alesta just sat in the dark and relaxed. If there was anything she had learned over the years it was that time would pass. It was inevitable. Her time passed slowly and endlessly, although she was accustomed to it. It had been hard in the beginning watching her loved ones die and seeing others have children that she could never have. They lived eternally through their offspring, while she just lived eternally.

  Chapter 3

  Morning was almost upon her and there was no sign of Patrick or Allister. Alesta made her way up the creaky stairs and knocked on Patrick’s door. There was no response. She knocked again, louder. Maybe he was in the library, she thought. She turned around and popped her head in and there Patrick sat, slumped with his head in a big open textbook, pen on the floor, table lamp on.

  “Oh Patrick, for heavens sake!” Alesta whispered to herself. She stood over him and cleared her throat loudly. Patrick sat bolt up.

  He put his hand on his forehead. “You scared me, ah my neck. I fell asleep. Shite.” He stretched. “Ah, my back.” It made a couple of cracking sounds.

  “Do I need to check on you at night and put you to bed?” She paused and watched Patrick rub his eyes. “Oh you poor little boy.” Alesta then sat in the chair next to him, close.

  “Um, you have dry drool there.” Alesta pointed at his chin. He wiped it away.

  “I have an exam on Tuesday.” He closed the big textbook with a thud. “I still need to study. I shouldn’t go out tonight.”

  “What is your exam on?” Alesta asked.

  “Even more and more complicated chemistry, nothing that would interest you Alesta,” he said.

  “I enjoyed chemistry when I was in nursing school, but I will say, it was just a tad bit boring. The professor was more interesting to watch. He would wear shorts all year round and clogs. He was from Amsterdam and always had many stories to tell us about his trips. The more you listened, the better scores you got!” she said.

  “Ha! That wouldn’t work for me here. I have an old bloke, who has never been married, nor had sex for that matter. But his assistant is a pretty little thing, maybe she’s stirring him a little, Ha!” Patrick smirked.

  “Patrick! Ha; you wish! Anyways, you work too hard. And…” she said playfully, “As your employer I order you to go out tonight.”

  Patrick laughed, “Well…. Okay, how can I say no to that,” he gave her a big friendly grin, “Alesta, you never look like you have been up allll night. How do you do it?”

  She smiled, “It’s a secret. A woman never tells, now I’m off to bed.”

  She stood.

  “I cut up the rest of the ham, it’s in the fridge,” Alesta said as she left.

  “Wait, how was our guest?” Patrick asked.

  “Well he was pish drunk the last time I saw him. See you later Patrick.” Her voice carried from a ways away.

  Alesta cut outside through the trees, it was cold, but still dark. She lifted up her blue dress as she walked across the muddy patches of grass. She always did this, even though it didn’t really matter. The material they used in current clothing was much easier to clean than what they used in her youth. She had a cleaning service come once a week and pick up all the dirty items from the Manor and they gave her a special deal on her own private collection, no questions asked.

  She fed her Mitsy and went down into her private dwelling below. The candles lining the stone hallway had all burned out. She left them. She would deal with that when she woke up, she thought. Sometimes she felt like training Patrick to keep up this area of her world, but he could never know her secret. It had seen better days, but it was too much work to have it look grand and sparkling, and take care of the B&B on top of it.

  William had prided himself in grand vampire events, celebrating birthdays, new members, holding meetings and such things. Alesta attended all dressed to kill. William enjoyed showing her off to his quests. She had many fond memories of most of the parties; she was looking forward to her own ball. Patrick was doing a fine job at organizing everything. All the major people in the town were invited. It had been many years since she had opened herself up to the community. It had to be that way however, because she did not want anyone to get suspicious of her age.

  It was time for some fun, she thought as she undressed. She hung her bustle dress in her dressing room next to the coffin room. This room was her special vampire needs room. It had many elaborate costumes, trinkets, weapons. A mirror covered one entire wall. She used it almost everyday, but it was getting a bit too dusty. It was built to look like the backstage of a fancy opera house. William had had it especially made for them with the mirror reflecting a pretend audience. She pictured him prancing around and quoting famous Greek plays while admiring himself. She laughed out loud. He used to get dressed up in there as well and they would dance together before day, but she had gotten rid of his belongings long ago.

  Alesta pushed through the clothing and pushed a large stone block, a door leading to her coffin room where she retired for the day.

  “Excuse me, is it Patrick?” Patrick felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to see a scruffy looking Allister still wearing the clothes from the day before.

  “Yes, sir, what can I do for you this morning? Care for some breakfast perhaps?” Patrick asked.

  “Ah no, a bit under the weather this morning and not very hungry. Well maybe some tea? And a plaster, I have appeared to cut my wrist in the night somehow. For the way the cut looks, it’s not very painful.” Allister sat down in the living room where Patrick had been studying.

  “Sure, I will get you both. You take a seat and relax.” Patrick left.

  Allister looked out at the loch. The sky was scattered with little white clouds, with the sun popping out here and there. He was looking forward to better weather. As he looked out to the loch, he had a flash of Alesta’s face appear in his mind. She was stunning, her eyes, her hair. He felt a pang in his stomach. This was unusual for him, why could he not stop thinking about her. He tried to shove her beauty away, but gave in to the memory of her red, red, lips.

  “Ahhhhh,” he said quietly.

  “Excuse me; here is everything you asked for.” Patrick sat the tea tray down next to Allister on a small coffee table. Allister put the plaster on first over his cut and picked up the small silver tea pot and poured. The tea gave off steam as it splashed into the white china cup. Allister picked up the cup and just smelled it.

  “Mmmm. Thank you kindly. May I ask you about the Lady of the Manor?” Allister inquired, trying not to sound nosey.

  “Sure,” Patrick said.

  “Has she owned this place long?” Allister said.

  “I think so. It has been in her family for many years, passed on from generation to generation. She has only opened it as a B&B for the last ten though,” Patrick said. He pointed to the picture of William McKenzie above the fireplace.
<
br />   “Well it is quite lovely, something about her and this place, makes me want to stay awhile,” Allister said. He looked off into the distance again and tuned everything else out. It was just him, the loch, and his hot tea.

  Patrick took the cue and went back to the front desk to study. Allister was a bit eccentric he thought to himself, but with the rest of the guests coming later, as well as Judy, he would be plenty busy. And just as he had that thought, the phone rang.

  Patrick picked up the phone, “Hello, McKenzie Manor.”

  “Patrick, I just got home from work and I thought I’d set up with you two for tonight before I go to sleep,” Monica said sounding exhausted.

  “Oh hi, yeah, well how bout we pick you up round eight or so. Sound good?” Patrick asked.

  “Yeah, Patrick, cheerio, I’d chat more but I’m so tired. Have a good day then.”

  “Right! Bye!” Patrick and Monica both hung up. Patrick was glad she got off the phone so quickly; sometimes Monica would talk his ear off and he wasn’t a phone person.

  With a growling stomach, Patrick got up and went into the kitchen; he wasn’t in the mood for ham so he stepped into the pantry. He pulled the white string hanging above his head and the light came on illuminating every type of canned anything you could think off. The cereal looked out at him from the back of the pantry. He had not had cereal in a while, usually just tea and toast for breakfast as every good Scot does. He lifted up the box of cornflakes and dropped it; the top popped open and crispy flakes scattered everywhere.

  “Bloody hell,” Patrick said. “So much for that.”

  He stepped out and got the broom; the corn flakes had spread all the way under the shelves. It was a huge mess. He swept up most of it in a big pile carefully scooped it up into the dust pan. After two more scoops, he dumped most of it in the bin. Then he got on all fours to try and brush of the rest. He picked up the mat that was on the floor and shook off the tiny crumbs, then dumped it in the kitchen. He had gotten most of the crumbs and knelt down again to feel. He moved his hand along the stone floor and noticed a bump on the wall.

  “What’s this?” Patrick said out loud.

  He laid his cheek on the ground to get a better look at it. It was small, made of stone and looked like a knob. He pressed it and suddenly felt the floor give before him. He gasped in surprise seeing only black and feeling a hard crack on his head.

  Judy was a bag of nerves. She had so much to do before her training later that day. She had to call the movers and set up with them and go by the church and get her office supplies. She paced around her small flat trying to decide what to do first and instead decided to make some tea. Her flowery kitchen was small and quaint; she would miss it she thought. It was going to be a big life change, she didn’t mind though. Her daughter had moved up north and she had not seen her in many months. They had been arguing about her real father and her daughter was mad that Judy had not wanted to talk about it very much. Judy decided to call her.

  The phone rang and rang and the answering machine came on, “This is Cara leave a message.”

  “Hi Cara, it’s me, I need to talk to you. I start my new job today at McKenzie Manor. Call me if you want. I love you pet. Bye!” Judy hung up. She knew Cara was off on Fridays. Maybe she was still asleep or maybe she was listening, Judy wondered.

  It was a time in Judy’s life that she just wanted to forget. Maybe she was being selfish and her daughter deserved to know about him, but she just wasn’t ready. Being a single mother in a small town had been difficult, the gossip and disapproving looks. The only way Judy had over come it all was to be devoted in the church. She had never missed a Sunday mass or a weekly confession. Judy figured her daughter would get over it eventually and return her messages. After those trains of thought, she decided to call the church first. She picked up the phone and dialed.

  “Hello, St. Michael’s, this is Father Mac Namara.”

  “Ah Father, how lovely to hear your voice. This is Judy Worth.”

  “Good morning to you,” he said. “How are you?”

  “I’m good thank you. I start my new job over at McKenzie Manor today,” Judy said cheerfully.

  Father Mac Namara sounded surprised, “Oh, is that so then. I met the owner, Alesta, the other night at the hospital, interesting woman. Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked.

  “Yes, Father, I want to pick up my office things. Is there a good time to do that?” Judy asked.

  “I will be here for a few more hours, if you want to come by, but after I’m going on some house calls.”

  “Okay, well I will come right over then Father. I certainly don’t want to interrupt your schedule. Thank you,” Judy said.

  “I will see you soon. Cheerio,” he said.

  Judy said good bye and quickly drank her tea. She gathered a few carry bags, and pulled on her purple coat. She went out into the hall, locked the door to her flat and took the elevator down. It was a tiny elevator, big enough for three people. It always smelled like an old cigarette. She would be glad to leave behind the other aspects of the flats. After a brisk twenty minute walk in the fresh spring air, she arrived.

  St. Michael’s was a stunning old church; stain glass windows lit hard wood benches like a kaleidoscope of colors. The smell of incense permeated through it and her knees always killed her kneeling during mass. It was a good pain, the pain of devotion. There was the odd person praying here and there, but it was mostly empty. The altar was done in white marble with a large statue of Jesus upon his cross behind it. The candles illuminated the altar giving off a feel of the divine. Judy was moved every time she stepped into St. Michael’s. She had been a member her entire life.

  The Father stood upon the walkway in front of the altar conversing with another church member. Judy approached; he said his good byes and shook her hand.

  “Judy, awfully good to see you. We miss your cheerful face around here. Follow me to the offices and I will let you gather your things.” Father Mac Namara motioned her to follow him with his strong young hands.

  “It’s good to be here. I have so many fond memories of this place Father. You will love it as you stay longer.” They passed through the office areas and into what used to be her small office. “Have you found my replacement yet?”

  “No, not yet, you have hard shoes to fill Judy.” He helped pack one of the carry bags she brought with her. She didn’t have much, nor need much.

  “Father, you should come by the Manor and visit, maybe you could come for supper,” Judy said.

  “Thank you but I couldn’t.” He placed his hand on his chin.

  “Oh don’t be silly, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. The views are breathtaking; you have to see it for the historical aspects.”

  The Father thought a long second, “Well okay then, why not? You get all settled in first and I’ll come by later on, but only if it’s okay with Alesta. I don’t want to interrupt anything. Business can be very busy.”

  They finished up and Father Mac Namara saw her out. “Judy, thank you for everything and I will see you Sunday for mass.”

  “About that Father, I’m not sure of my new schedule yet so I might start coming to the Friday night mass. We’ll see,” she said, the Father nodded.

  Judy shook his hand and said good bye. He smiled as she left. He was a very kind man, she thought, a great addition to the church. He would certainly bring in more members and keep them.

  Judy went home and made lunch; she called the movers and set everything up for the following weekend. She would figure out what she would need and what she wouldn’t her first week there. The room at the manor was already furnished; maybe her furniture wouldn’t be needed. This she would all decide later. She looked up at the clock; she only had an hour left before she had to be at work.

  “How fun!” she smiled to herself as she ate her last chocolate snowball and licked the cream off her fingers.

  Patrick put his hand on his throbbing head. It was as if someone was hammering the
inside of his skull repeatedly. He felt the lump under his thick hair. There was an open gash, the size of a penny, with thick dry flakes. He licked one off of his finger.

  “Awe. Dried blood. For Christ’s sakes. Awe.” Patrick rolled on his side and felt the raw floor. He opened his eyes to see only black.

  “Shit! Bloody cornflakes.” He felt around the floor in the dark beside him, nothing but hard stone slabs.

  “What on earth is that smell? Stale… Ah!” He rubbed his nose as he sneezed a couple of times, wiping his hands on his green kilt.

  “I need a drink or a pain killer,” he said as he tried to stand up. When he got to his feet, he almost toppled over with dizziness. He was sure the room was spinning even though he couldn’t see a vertigo hell.

  Patrick put his arms out in front and behind moving them around like a blind person. It was a few small steps and he reached a wall. The wall was cold like the ground and rough. He moved long it feeling his way carefully, making sure not to trip on any hidden objects. He felt around the perimeter several times to get a sense of the black surroundings.

  “I’m trapped, in an empty room,” he said quietly. “Help!!!!! Can anyone hear me…..Help!” his voice echoed around the room loudly. He heard no reply.

  “Is anyone there? Help!” Patrick called for a good ten minutes with his own deep voice being his only reply. He slouched down and sat against the wall, placing his hand on his face.

  “Think Patrick, think,” he said.

  “You got in with that knob; there must be one like it in here somewhere.”

  After kneeling and feeling around the floor like a drunken dog he stood and felt around the walls. It was just stone with many lines and groves. It was hard to tell if it was one big piece of wall or many pieces fit together like a perfectly tight puzzle.