Familiar Souls

by Dawn Gray

  Darkness fell, bringing with it a terrible spell of freezing air. Michael huddled under the cover of a tree and pressed his hands against the wound with whatever strength he had remaining. He shook with weakness and fear, but he tried to hang onto life. And, as his eyes blackened and his world disappeared, he saw a hand reach down for him, but then he saw nothing.

  When he opened his eyes and looked around the room that he was in, Michael saw a room full of very elaborate furniture, mirrors, vases, paintings and priceless heirlooms. A large fireplace held a blazing fire within it, from which came the heat that filled the room. He had never seen such a place, at least not where he had come from. The town that he had lived in was quite poor and the only man that owned anything employed everyone in town.

  Michael got up from the comfortable bed, and realized, as he looked down at himself, that he was naked. As he glanced around the room once again, looking for anything that might resemble a closet, he found a pile of clothing sitting on a chair, close enough to the fire to keep them warm.

  Once dressed, he walked out of the room and made his way down the long hallway, towards the stairway at the end of it. Michael's brown eyes looked at everything, taking in every inch of this new place. He didn't want to miss a thing in case it was a dream. Once down the stairs, he moved through the house until he found the dining room. His guard was up and he seemed poised for action. This room was very brightly lit and he spotted the food on the table. Slowly, he made his way over, being very cautious about hiding spots.

  As Michael hovered over the food, just looking at it, smelling every plateful, he failed to notice the man that walked up behind him, until he heard the heels of boots click together loudly. Michael straightened and turned very slowly to look at this new person.

  He was tall, and very well built; his features looked ageless, not a wrinkle on them, but Michael guessed that he had to be at least forty. Michael stood straight then tugged at his shirt as the man smiled at him. The man cleared his throat and walked over to the table, where he pulled himself a chair and sat down. Michael watched him with caution, and then moved slowly over to accept the chair that he was offering to him. He looked at the man's dark hair and eyes, the wide bridge of his nose, the thick black mustache, and the way that his lips curled into a smile that was hidden just under the very ends of his mustache.

  "I see you've found your way around quite nicely." The man's deep, authoritative voice boomed through the silence of the hall, loud enough to make Michael jump in his seat. "How do you feel? Has your wound healed nicely?"

  "My...wound?" Michael questioned, and then suddenly remembered that he had been dying of a gunshot wound to his abdomen. Michael stood, quickly, and lifted his shirt. There was no scar, no bandage. He patted his stomach several times then suddenly sat down at the table once again, the look of utter shock written plainly across his face. "I should be dying. Wait,” he said and looked at the man, "am I dead?"

  "No, my boy, you're not dead." He laughed and fixed himself a plate of the raw looking meat that was set down in front of him. Michael watched him eat, the blood gravy that had formed on the plate, dripped off the fork every time he took a bite and it made Michael realize how hungry he really was. "Oh, excuse my manners." The man said suddenly, making Michael look up from the blood plate. He looked at the man, whose chin seemed to drip from the juices of the meat. "Cristian, Justin, come in here."

  Michael turned to see two young men, about his age, step into the room. One of them was a bit taller than the other; otherwise, they almost looked alike.

  "What's your name, Boy?" The man asked.

  "Michael." He said faintly, not taking his eyes off the new arrivals.

  "Ah, a fine name. Michael, this is Cristian Kingston," He pointed to the shorter of the two, who bowed then looked at Michael. His eyes were a light brown, very thoughtful, but also holding a very dark secret behind them. Cristian looked quickly from Michael, as if reading his mind, and stared at the fireplace beside him. "And, this is Justin Tudorian."

  Michael looked up at the taller one, whose eyes seemed such a dark brown color that they were almost black. This one held nothing back, showing Michael a darker side of himself just by looking at him with those black eyes. Michael watched him nod, also, but his lips curled up into a sly sort of smile.

  "They are my students, as I would like you to be." The man looked at Cristian, and waved him away, then looked at Justin and nodded. Michael watched as the two of them disappeared and he looked back at this man. "My name, dear boy, is Charles Creekson, and may I ask, how old are you?"

  "Sixteen." Michael replied. Charles nodded and pointed at Michael's plate, which Michael also looked at and realized that it was full of food.

  "Such a young age for a man to be off to war." Charles said as he watched Michael eat. "Why would your father agree to that?"

  "My parents are dead." Michael replied, quietly.

  "I see." He answered and sat forward, folding his hands on the table. "Did you believe that going off to war would help ease your loss? Maybe, lessen the need for revenge against something?"

  "I thought that if I was fighting for a cause, then I wouldn't be quite so alone." Michael replied, not looking at him. "But, I found out that I wasn't all that fond of killing someone that I didn't know."

  "So, you believe that if you knew them, it would make it better, easier to kill them?" He questioned.

  Michael shook his head. "No." He paused, trying to think of a good reason, but he could think of nothing and looked at Charles, with anger on his face. "I'm just a coward, plain and simple. I ran away, leaving everyone that I knew to die and the problem is I never want to go back."

  "You're not a coward, you're just thinking about your future. This war will end, just like every other war, and people will be dead on both sides, and not all that much will have been accomplished, except families will have lost children, husbands, and fathers. Don't be ashamed, Boy, I would have done the same thing, and have, many times before." Charles replied. Michael glanced back at his dish, knife in one hand, fork in the other, and looked back at him.

  "How many wars have you been in?" Michael asked. Charles, seeing to realize that he slipped on his choice of words, shrugged it off.

  "A story for another time, perhaps. Finish your dinner, Boy, and then come out onto the porch." Charles got up from the table and left Michael to sit there and finish the large meal in front of him.

  His eyes opened slowly, as daylight began to pour into the room. Michael ran his hands over his eyes and down his face, and then he stretched and threw the covers off from himself. He stood, and then grabbed a pair of jeans, slipped them on and headed downstairs for brunch.

  Ashley sat at the table, her small son ran around in the grass just beyond the patio, where she was reading a newspaper. Michael's presence didn't slip passed her as she looked up just as he stepped out. They were connected by blood, Michael having made Ashley a vampire when she lay dying of wounds that had been inflicted on her during a run in with Victor and her late husband. She looked at him, at his worried face, as he sat down at the table across from her.

  "You haven't heard from them, have you?" Ash, as they called her, asked him, softly.

  "No." He said, quietly, and took a roll from the plate in front of him. "I probably won't until tonight at the very least."

  "I've never seen you quite this distracted before." Ash whispered as she reached across the table and took his hand. "What's on your mind?"

  "The last time I saw them." He smiled softly, and then looked up at her. "It was such a long time ago, what if they've forgotten?"

  "They are part of you, Mike; they're not going to forget you, ever." She smiled at him. "You said that they were protecting each other; so, believe in your heart that they will come here, to protect you."

  "I don't want them to protect me, Ash. I want to protect them. I want them to see who they're connected too, but what if it turns out that they hate each other?"

  "Wha
t happened between you and Justin, Mike, happened a long time ago. He's probably already forgotten it, why can't you?" She questioned. He forgot that she was connected to him, that she could see what he felt, what he thought, if he let her and right then he was thinking about the last time that he and Justin were together.

  "I don't believe you!" Justin said as he stormed into Michael's room. The two of them looked at each other. Michael could see the fire in his blood brother's eyes. Michael was eighteen then, a new vampire, along with Justin and Cristian, and the three of them had made a pact and became blood brothers shortly after Charles had taken Michael in.

  "Excuse me?" Michael said and stood up from his chair. He walked over and stood in front of Justin. "Would you mind explaining to me exactly what I have supposedly done to make you not believe me?"

  "You took her!" Justin said, suddenly. Michael looked at him, with confusion in his eyes. "Jescinda! You took her blood."

  "No, Justin, I did nothing of the sort." Michael replied. "Besides, you're the one that's madly in love with her, why would I even touch her?"

  "Because, you're jealous!" Justin barked at him.

  "I beg your pardon!" Michael said, once again. "I don't think so."

  "Explain to me then, dear brother of mine, how your scent is all over her, how she moans out your name, now, even as we speak, in her dreams? Tell me, why you smell of her and what you did to make her come to you."

  "I assure you, I have no idea what you're talking about." Michael said and shrugged. "I don't even like the girl, and would surely never touch her like that."

  "I don't believe you." Justin told him, through clenched teeth and a snarl on his face.

  "You may believe what you wish, but I know that I'm telling the truth." Michael reassured him. Justin leaped towards him, pushing him against the wall, and held him there with such force that Michael could barely move.

  "Prove it!" He said, angrily, to Michael, spitting in his face as he spoke. "Prove to me that you've never touched her. If you have nothing to hide, you will let me do it."

  "I have nothing to hide." Michael said and bared his neck for Justin, but as the blood began to flow between them, Michael's memories betrayed him.

  He could see the blood haze that covered his eyes when he hadn't fed in the allowed amount of time. Charles had told them to feed at least every seven days. It had been two weeks for Michael.

  He was prowling the woods, looking for some lost animal that might have strayed from its family, and what he came upon was Jescinda, who bathed naked by the stream. She was humming and ringing out her hair, trying to get any excess water from it, when he walked up and took her. He kissed her and caressed her, as he brought her into a trance-like state, but as he seduced her, he made sure she knew exactly who she was doing this with.

  He drank from her, filling his need, both sexually and physically, and he left her there, quite beside herself, and amused, to find some other pray. Justin tore away from Michael, who was looking at his brother with a good amount of shock on his face.

  "I didn't remember!" Michael said in his defense. Justin, whose chin was covered in blood, backed slowly away from Michael. "I swear to you, on our blood, that I didn't remember any of it, until now, when you showed me that I was wrong."

  "You betrayed me!" Justin said, and pointed at him, his fangs bared as his eyebrows came together when his face seemed to distort in anger. "I loved her, and you desecrated her body, you took from her veins and now I should kill you for it."

  "Do as you feel you must, Justin." Michael said and watched as Justin backed out of the room, the fire in his eyes glowed bright red. When the door closed, when Justin's menacing presence was away from his room, Michael collapsed on the floor and cried.

  "What have I done?" He asked himself, over and over, as the tears flowed down his cheek. "What have I done?"

  Cristian had come to him later on that evening, wondering if he had seen Justin, or knew of his whereabouts, but Michael could do nothing but stare at the wall. Cristian left him there, after asking what could be wrong at least a dozen times without an answer, and Michael made a decision. That night he slipped away, leaving the three of them behind, knowing that Justin would stay only if Michael left.

  Michael looked over at the door as Julian stepped out onto the patio. He walked over and kissed Ashley quickly, checking to see if the boy was watching, then backed away from her when Jack, the toddler, ran up to him. Julian sat at the table and looked over at Michael, the boy in his lap, and he smiled.

  "You look distracted." Julian said then shook his head. "Of course, you're distracted, forgive me."

  "No, it's quite all right." Michael said and took Jack's outstretched hand. "I was just thinking about the others."

  "About Cristian?" Julian asked.

  "No, someone else." Michael replied.

  "So,” Ash said and looked at him, Michael looked at her quickly and smiled. "You never really told me about how you became a vampire."

  "Funny." Julian spoke up. "He never really told me either."

  "I never told you?" Michael asked. Julian shook his head. "Strange, I thought with your curiosity that it might have slipped out before. It's really a long and boring story."

  "Yes, but if it will help us to help you with your problem, Michael,” Julian added, taking a bite of his Danish, then letting Jack loose again, "maybe, we should hear it."

  "And waste a good summer day?" Michael questioned, then looked at his friends, and realized that they weren't going to let him get away with it. He was going to have to tell them; otherwise, they wouldn't leave him alone. "Where to begin, because really, there doesn't seem to be a starting point."

  "Well, we know about Charles, and the other two, Justin and Cristian, but we just don't know how they're involved." Julian said and watched Michael sit back and get comfortable in the chair.

  "Charles isn't my sire, despite what you might think." Michael said softly. "He was a vampire, but for some reason, he wouldn't turn us. The three of us wanted immortality, after hearing Charles tell his stories for countless nights, and we wanted it so badly, we could taste it already.

  "It was Justin's idea to visit one of Charles' friends, an old vampire that lived deep in the woods near the town where we were living. She had a young figure, but seemed to have many centuries behind her and when we asked her to change us, she laughed. She told us that we were going about this all the wrong way, and that our reasons for wanting this gift were childish.

  "She wanted us to think about what we really wanted first, before jumping into it, and then, in a month, she wanted us to come back and maybe she would introduce us to another vampire she knew who would help us with the transformation. So, the three of us sat and sulked for a month, trying to figure out the real reason we wanted to become vampires so badly. Cristian wanted the ability to do anything he wanted so that he could save the world from us, noble, but silly, since he was only one boy and there were thousands of people in the world, I wanted it for myself, which I admit was a little selfish, but after the death of my parents, I didn't want to die. I was afraid of the other side, of the void I thought we fell into when we died. I didn't want to be like my parents.

  "Justin wouldn't tell us straight out what he wanted it for, but I suspected that it wasn't good. He had always had darkness around him darker then Cristian, which only came out when really provoked. Justin was just darkness, even as a mortal. He would tell us how he wanted it for the girls, so that he could control their thoughts, and if he liked them and they didn't like him; he could change their minds. I thought, at the time, that it seemed like a good idea, to have whoever you wanted, Cristian didn't see it as anything special, the reason, but after a while it seemed to grow on him. So we had it, finally, the reason we wanted it so badly was power.

  "Plain and simple, and if the woman didn't like it, there were other vampires that we could turn to." Michael looked at Ashley, then at Julian and sipped at the coffee that the maid had brought him.


  "So, what happened then?" Ashley asked. "Did she agree?"

  "No." He answered.

  "No?" Julian asked. Michael shook his head. "After a whole month of making you wait, she said no?"

  "She felt our reason was too destructive, that we three together, would do some irreversible damage to this place. She thought that together we would be powerful.”

  “So, you found someone else?” Ash asked.

  “Actually, he found us.” Michael smiled. He closed his eyes and thought back to that time, when Charles was out of town and a stranger knocked on the front door. “I told him not to answer it, because, even though I was still a mortal, I could feel the danger from inside the house. There was a presence outside that just should have been left there, but it had always been a competition with Justin and me. If I wanted it, he had to have it, and the other way around, so he let the man in, and he looked like a vampire. His eyes were sunken in, as if he hadn’t fed in months, his cheekbones and jaw seemed to be noticeable under his skin, which looked as though it was pulled tightly across his bones.

  “I think Justin regretted opening the door once he saw what stepped through, but that all faded, in each of us, as the man began to speak. He had an offer for us and the conditions seemed simple enough. He would give us what we wanted if we could prove ourselves worthy by bringing a young girl, preferably a teenage virgin, to his large home in the mountains; he gave us each directions to this place and one week to complete it. Each of us had to bring a girl and whichever one of us made it, would be given the gift, which was what we desired most.”

  “You agreed, I assume.” Julian said smartly. Michael smiled.

  “We agreed, and with Charles out of town, no one could stop us.” Michael sighed. “Each of us found our girl and brought them to the house where he had directed us to. It wasn’t his home, but a place where the girls would be taken off our hands and we would wait for him to send for us. We were there maybe two days, wandering the city during the day and sleeping in the finest inn at night. When the message arrived that we should visit his home, we were whisked away in a black coach, with a hooded driver. Something right out of a horror movie, it seemed, though there were no movies back then. We arrived just after dusk at the very large mansion that sat on top of a narrow hill, with a lake in the back yard and no neighbors for miles.