Sundown Rising

by T. A. Bradley

  Pulling all my will together, I collapsed my cells and reformed them. It was a painful process. In human terms, it would feel much like being inside a trash compactor. I could feel my blood vessels burst and reform; my organs explode and reshape themselves. The agony was horrific, but at last, I was a bat and could move through the night effortlessly and swiftly.

  I arrived at the cemetery a full ten minutes before she did. When she got there, I could see the surprise that briefly flashed across her face before she regained her composure. My early arrival had had the effect I wanted. She was now the one questioning the amount of my strength.

  I had reformed myself before she arrived, leaving her to wonder how I'd accomplished it. Fortunately, the transmutation in that direction was only half as painful. When completed, it takes a few minutes to restore the – human – for lack of a better term – sensations. The nerves need to readjust. I had had just enough time, marginally, before she arrived. Had I been moments later in regaining those senses, she would have had me at a great disadvantage. This was an ability that is infrequently used among us for those reasons.

  As she stood in front of me, I could see in her mind the ambivalence she was feeling. She had no idea how I'd beaten her here; and although she desperately wanted to find out, she was afraid to display her weakness - her lack of understanding without having to be told. I smiled to myself.

  "So," I said, looking her directly in the eyes. "What seems to be your dilemma? And how does it involve me?"

  Her face was strained. She was battling with herself and I could feel it sapping her strength. I could sense the discord within her. She wanted two things at the same time and they were diametrically opposed.

  "I need something from you." She said. Her voice was a dry monotone. "I believe you're the only one who can help me. But I loathe having to ask you."

  "You need something from me?" I narrowed my gaze and probed more deeply into her mind. She was beginning to lose control. I was getting deeper and deeper. Her ambivalence was eroding her mental barricade. Straining, I pushed past it and saw what she was – who she was – and how she'd been made. I also saw the reason for her struggle. She wanted me dead, but needed my strengths and abilities.

  I took a step back. The clarity of her thoughts - of her creation and more - stunned me. I was not prepared for it at all. There was no other. The other she had spoken of – the other who had created her – had been me.

  The mental blow drained me and I lost contact with her mind. But her knowledge was already mine. Instantly, she knew what had happened. That knowledge freed her, and she closed off her mind to me. Her strength had returned as she was no longer divided.

  For the longest time, she just stood there looking at me. Probing into my mind. It was now I who was vulnerable and she wasted no time taking advantage of it. Yet, it turned out that my concern was unjustified. It was not secrets she sought. She gave, rather than took. She made sure I felt the full impact of what I had gained from her mind. She gave me clear images.

  For beings that are emotionally dead, as we are, I was struck horrified. The image of my long dead wife, Ronnie, swam in my mind. She suffered greatly. Her state of decay was beyond comprehension and the pain she felt of it was sheer agony. The girl before me was my daughter.

  When my wife had died, forty-seven years ago, I had not known that she was pregnant. The girl standing before me, my daughter, developed in the womb of a dead human. Her vampire half struggling to survive – to escape. It had taken her years to develop enough to break out of her confines – out of my wife's grave. To survive, she had managed to revive my dead wife, whom she fed upon until she could escape ( the explanation of how she accomplished that would have to wait for another time). Feeding only enough to continue to grow, she waited until her time arrived.

  But for Ronnie, it was torture. She was never meant to be one of the undead. The revival of a corpse only breeds an animated corpse. But for the corpse – it is hell. They continue to decompose and the undead life they'd been given allows them to feel their decomposition.

  Through my daughter's mind, I saw my wife, as she existed now – horribly mutilated, rotten flesh peeling from her bones, her organs liquefying with decay. And I could hear her constant screams of agony.

  "What have you done?"" I yelled, grabbing my daughter by the shoulders. "What have you done?"

  She twisted away from me. "What I had to do to survive. We all survive." She locked her eyes on mine. "You have the power to help her; I know you do. I am not strong enough...but you...you could give her what we have. I know it."

  "No!" I shouted. "No! She's been embalmed. I cannot help her."

  "You must," she screamed. "You must try. I know...I've always known...even while I was living inside the grave...you can help her. You can restore her."

  "To what? Mortal? It's beyond that. Vampire? Impossible now. To what?"

  She took a step back, her demeanor calming. "You have not even asked my name? Don't you want to know?"

  I was stunned. I couldn't get the image of her mother out of my mind. A woman locked in a below-ground mausoleum so that her cries of anguish could not be heard by humans. And my daughter seemed concerned with her name.

  "My name...the one that I've chosen, as there was no one to name me when I was born, is Nightling. I am your progeny...I am your legacy. You've done nothing for me...I've done for myself. Now it is time to ante up. You must help my mother! You must help your wife! We can NOT leave her as she is, and I haven't the power to change it. But you do. I know it...I can feel it."

  I drew a deep sigh. And for the first time in a long time, I felt. I felt a profound sadness. Perhaps it was knowing that my wife was – alive? – awake? – I didn't know what to call it. But I could feel again. Human feelings. Pity – and horror.

  "I don't know what we can do; I honestly don't know what we can do. Except..."

  I trailed off, for I knew she knew what I was going to propose. And I wasn't even sure we could do that.

  "You can't kill her!" she screamed. "I won't allow it. You must save her. You must make her one of us." Suddenly, she reached out and grabbed me, lifting me into the air. As easily as if I had been a child's toy, she threw me across the cemetery yard. I landed hard against a headstone. I had been unprepared for her attack. "Do you hear me?" she bellowed, appearing in front of me, "you must help her. You must at least try. You owe her; you owe me. You're my father...and I need your abilities and experience."

  19

  No human could hear what we heard when we arrived at the mausoleum. The piercing screams and wailing that punched through to our immortal ears were chilling, even to us.

  Nightling looked at me. It must have been the reconnection with my former self – my daylight self – but I was feeling Ronnie's anguish. Immediately, Nightling snatched me up by the shoulders and shook me.

  "Don't go there. I need you as you are. Do not let yourself feel. You must be one hundred percent immortal to do this."

  I shook my head. "I can't do that. We were connected. I can feel for her. For the longest time I could feel nothing, but I can feel for her."

  "Stop it! Stop it right now! You are an immortal – a creature of the night – a vampire. You can no longer walk in daylight and you are no longer any part human. You must be what you are. You must!"

  I drew myself up. She was right. If I had any chance of doing anything, I would need all the powers that the immortality of darkness had given me. Yet, I still did not know what I could do.

  "Are you ready?" Nightling asked. "There's a small crack in the back, we can get in through there."

  "Wait," I said, locking my fingers around her upper arm, "I need to think about what I'm going to do first. It won't be as easy as converting a human. She's already dead and pumped full of embalming fluid."

  "No," said Nightling, "she's mostly drained. That's w
hy she's decomposing so quickly. I drained it off her, little by little as I was growing. It made me sick at first, but I learned to deal with it. Mother is almost completely free of that horrid stuff."

  I turned and leaned my back against the mausoleum, the cries and moans still issuing forth. What did I know? What could I possibly do to reverse such a horrid thing. And as if the problem itself weren't enough, the sun would rise soon; we had very little time.

  "You say that you've removed most of the embalming fluid?"

  "Yes! It was gross, but I did it. That's how I was able to reanimate her. I'd exchange a little of my blood for a little of hers each day. That was another reason it took me so long to develop. My human side was constantly at war with the paraformaldehyde and my psyche was split. But in the end, I succeeded."

  I closed my eyes. Someplace deep inside of me, someplace where instinct and the wisdom or our kind resides, I could feel an answer. I had to reach down further to find it. I concentrated, letting time and place slip from my conscious. I was close but not close enough when I felt Nightling shaking me violently.

  I tried to push her away; I tried to maintain my concentration, but she kept shaking me. Giving in at last, I said, "What? What is it? I was almost there?"

  "Look! Look," she cried, pointing to the horizon. "We're out of time for tonight. You must return home. Now! The sun is coming and I can't afford to lose you. Fly, transmute and fly. You have only minutes. It's taken me almost an hour to get through to you. Fly!"

  She'd figured out my trick. But I had no time to acknowledge that. I returned to my casket seconds before I would have perished. The sun had crested just as I had reformed. It was a narrow escape.

  20

  Nightling was waiting for me when I arose. She had been pacing the outside of the perimeter. Inside it, my wolves growled and snarled, following her every movement, forbidding her entry. (In daylight, her human side made her vulnerable to their attack). And so she paced on one side while they mimicked her on the other. My will enforced their remaining on the inside and not bursting through to her.

  Her human excitement was evident when I landed in front of her.

  "Are you ready? Have you thought about it? Do you have any idea what we can do? Do-"

  "Slow down," I said, holding up my hands. "Yes, I've considered the situation. I'm still not sure what we can do. But I feel there is something – an ancient knowledge that will help us."

  "What? What ancient knowledge? Do you have it? C'mon, we must hurry. We may need all night again and I don't want to waste the time."

  "I must feed first," I admonished.

  "No...no! There's no time."

  "I must. I will need all my strength if we are going to succeed."

  "Then make it quick and meet me there. She needs you!"

  As I finished feeding, an idea occurred to me. Hit me would be a better way to put it. It was a very old technique, probably used by the first and strongest of us. It was initially meant to create invincible guardians, but it had fallen out of use centuries ago. I now believed that I could actually bring Ronnie across the barrier. I could not return her to human life – but I might be able to bring her into our world.

  It was a risky procedure, both to Ronnie and me. There was a chance that she could be trapped forever inside a living hell if it went wrong. If it failed, there was a very good chance that Ronnie would slowly decompose eternally – each night rejuvenating just enough to go through the agony again and again.

  For my part, if it failed, my vampire body might not be able to process the life sustaining blood I drew from my victims. I too would decompose slowly, until there was nothing left but ashes. Dust to dust!

  21

  A fleeting torrent of mortal emotion swept over me as I entered the underground vault and beheld my former wife. She stumbled around her concrete prison, hand over hand against the wall, bellowing and crying in agony. Her flesh was black-grey and dripped from her bones like melting plastic. In places, her bones were completely visible, as were the organs that were disintegrating behind them.

  "Ronnie," I said, calmly, "Ronnie!"

  "It's no good. She won't listen," said Nightling. "Just do what you have to. Help her. Stop this."

  Slowly, one word at a time, my voice reverberating off the stone walls and seeming to come from every direction at once, I commanded her.

  "Ronnie! You will turn and face me. Now!"

  Instantly, she stopped. I locked my mind onto what was left of hers, searching it – probing it for any shred of reason and humanity that might be left. In the smallest, darkest corner, I found it. I surrounded it with my mind – with my will – and drew her to me.

  I laid her on her back and knelt beside her, my hand on her forehead.

  "You will close your eyes and sleep," I commanded.

  Her eyes rolled back in her head and then closed. The erratic breathing slowed and steadied. "You will sleep. You will sleep deeply and feel nothing until I awaken you. When I call you from your slumbers, you will be hungry. You will eat what I give you and then you will sleep again."

  I lifted my hand from her forehead. Nightling stood off to the side watching. I could feel the anxiety that washed over her mortal side. I could read the curiosity in her mind – sense her desire to know what I was going to do. But she said nothing and watched.

  I steeled myself for what came next. Summoning all my strength, I placed my fingers on my abdomen and pushed. First the tips and then the knuckles sank in. I spread my fingers, opening a hole in my left side. When it was large enough, I took the edges of it with both hands and pulled it open. I reached in and pulled out part of my spleen – my blood forming and processing organ. In humans, the liver filters the blood. In vampires, the spleen processes the blood of humans into the life sustaining liquid we need.

  Most of the blood that I'd acquired from my victims was still inside it. Black ooze dripped from my wound where the organ had once been attached.

  "Awaken! Awaken and feed," I commanded.

  Ronnie's eyes fluttered open. A howl issued from her lips that filled the chamber as she pulled the organ from my hands and started eating.

  Nightling and I watched as she devoured the rancid tissue and blood that it contained. I fell backward onto my elbows. The spleen's removal weakened me instantly. I looked at Nightling.

  "You must," I stammered, "you must put her back into a trance with your will when she is finished. I am too weak. You must use all your immortal powers. Can you do that?"

  "Yes, I think so."

  "Don't think!" I barked. "You must know...you must be certain or it will fail."

  "Yes. I can do that," she said resolutely, and I could feel the immortal in her taking over.

  22

  When I came to, Nightling was sitting beside me with her legs crossed like an oriental meditator. She had a hand on my shoulder and was holding her mother's hand with the other. It took me a few moments to come back to myself and be able to sit up.

  "How long before we know?" she asked.

  I tried to clear my mind. "Hours, probably. I have never done this before." I struggled to my feet. My wound was completely closed, but I was weak. Nightling helped me stand.

  "I helped heal you," she said. "It looked like it was taking too long. I will have to feed soon. The healing drained me."

  "While I was out, something else came to me. Something even older and more primitive than the idea I used."

  "What? Can it still be done, even though we've already done this?" A fresh wave of excitement washed across Nightling's face.

  "I think so, yes. The idea itself is sound...although dangerous."

  Nightling smiled and let out a short burst of laughter. I got the feeling it was just an attempt to ease the tension of the situation.

  "Is anything you think of not dangerous?" she asked.

  "Probably not," I said.

&n
bsp; Ronnie started to moan. It was barely audible.

  "It's not working! It's not working," cried Nightling.

  "You must be patient. We don't know yet whether it is or it isn't. It may be too soon to tell."

  "But look at her. She's starting to awaken and she's still in pain and decomposing."

  "I know, Nightling, but all we can do is wait."

  "But for how long? How long before we try something else."

  She had no sooner finished her sentence when Ronnie bolted upright and began crawling around the floor, screaming.

  "It's not working! It's not!"

  "You may be right," I said. "We may have to try the second idea."

  "Are you up to it," she questioned. "You look so weak. Can you do it?"

  I closed my eyes and tried to summon all my strength. I could feel my weakness. I needed fresh blood, what I'd had, I'd given to Ronnie.

  "No. You will have to help me." I said. "This is what needs to be done, and you must act quickly."

  I related in detail what I wanted her to do and what we were going to try. I read the shock on her face as I spoke.

  "There's no other option," I told her. "It's either this or we'll have to try to kill her...if we can."

  "I don't like it," snorted Nightling, "but I'll try it. But if it fails...what then? I don't think killing her, even if we decide to do that, will be easy."

  "No. It won't. But we'll have to worry about that later. Now go! Bring me what I need and be swift."

  23

  I used almost all of the energy I'd had left to create an opening into the vault and to keep Ronnie inside while I did. What Nightling was bringing back could not have entered the way we do. I had also had to extend my mind and will in order to make one of Nightling's tasks easier and safer. By the time she returned, I was completely drained. But I had anticipated this, and the human she brought would restore me. And I hoped that the animal she brought would save Ronnie.

  The human Nightling brought was a sixteen year old male. His will to fight had been completely broken, and when Nightling released him, he scurried into a corner and tried to hide. I was swift. I drained him, but not entirely. The whole time, Nightling and the male wolf she'd brought back from my crypt watched. When I'd finished and was feeling stronger, I commanded the wolf to drink from my blood, and then to attack the boy...but not kill him.