Eternal Blood - Books 1-3 Wolf Shield, Sword of the Blood, Vampire Bride

by Maria Isabel Pita

  “Young lady,” Stuart spoke in a tone she had been all too familiar with in her teenage years, “tell him what you saw. Right now.”

  “I saw Jonathan turn into a wolf, attack my mother, and fuck her from behind.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the chair wishing she could go to sleep forever.

  “Audrey,” she heard such love and concern in Jonathan’s voice, tears escaped from beneath her lashes before she could even attempt to stop them, “please believe me when I tell you that’s not what happened. Falkon cast a spell around you. Am I correct in assuming you couldn’t move any closer to what you believe you were seeing?”

  She nodded slightly, so desperate for his redemption she couldn't speak.

  “What you witnessed was a projection of sorts, a kind of hologram. Fears and desires are akin to oppositely charged electromagnetic poles Falkon manipulated to make you see what he wanted you to.”

  She was going to say It looked perfectly real but she had learned how little that meant—everything was real and yet nothing was, not in any fixed tangible sense. It struck her then how sorely lacking her education had been. Somebody should have bothered to mention that quantum physics had something important to teach her; that it wasn’t just a bunch of mathematical equations she could never do in her own head, much less want to.

  “I sensed Wilona was about to shift,” he went on, “and I didn’t want her disappearing on us. So I stopped her.”

  “By turning into a wolf and pouncing on top of her?”

  “I shifted into a wolf because I could run faster that way, but when I reached her I needed my hands. I applied a direct pressure to key points near her throat which rendered her unconscious. Effective but also safe, if you know what you’re doing.”

  Stuart stepped in, “I would listen to him, Audrey. I didn’t raise a daughter who could be deceived so easily. Although I believe the term in vampire circles is glamoured.”

  She looked at him. It really wasn’t so surprising to hear him say such things, after all, her childhood had been filled with fantastic tales from all over the world, either read to her or recited from memory by her father. As she grew older she assumed they were all merely stories but, come to think of it, he had never actually told her they weren’t true.

  “Daddy, what exactly were you researching at the British Museum?”

  “That’s what your mother wanted to know.” He covered his eyes with one hand and rubbed them. His other hand kept firm hold of the chair, as though in an effort to keep himself anchored in what passed for reality. “I’m not sure how she discovered I knew what…what she was. It seems she might have followed me to London on this last visit and ascertained what books I was reading.”

  Jonathan was literally sitting on the edge of his seat, his elbows on his knees, studying a section of the magnificent Oriental carpet beneath his feet.

  “For years now,” Stuart stared down at the coffee table between them, “I’ve been researching an ancient legend about a substance the ancient Egyptians called snf-en-pet, which means blood from heaven.”

  Jonathan looked up.

  Audrey realized she was holding her breath when the long pause created an uncomfortable pressure in her chest.

  “The word for lead was bia-en-pet, metal from heaven, because for hundreds of years meteorites were the only known source of lead. Therefore, it stands to reason that this substance referred to as snf-en-pet is not of this earth. There are extremely obscure references to a similar substance with a heavenly source in the writings of a few ancient cultures, questionable translations and theories I would never have seriously pursued if it hadn’t been for your mother’s disappearance. I was searching for her, you see, and in the process I learned that somewhere between eight and thirteen small vials purportedly containing this so-called blood from heaven are believed to exist.”

  “And mother wanted to know if you knew where any of them were,” she guessed. “Because Falkon only has one and he won’t let her have a sip.”

  “Yes... I hated to disappoint her.”

  “What? After all the grief she caused us and is still causing us? She did a lot more than just disappoint us, Father.”

  Jonathan said quietly, “I don’t think he needs to be reminded of that.”

  “Sorry, but the truth is my mother’s a selfish bitch and I’m not proud to share her genes.”

  “You should pity her, Audrey.” Stuart regarded her sadly. “And you shouldn’t feel bad about yourself because she’s your mother. Your genes have nothing to do with your personality.”

  “Unless you think they do,” Jonathan added. “Your mind controls everything, if you really believe it does. However, your faith in this fact has to be absolute. Just ninety-nine percent certain isn’t good enough.”

  Stuart said gently, “You can’t just wait to get better, Audrey. You have to strive to think and act like the person you want to be and truly are, in your heart. It’s too easy to take Falkon’s road and just seek to please yourself without considering the consequences to anyone or anything else, which ultimately harms you as well.” He clenched his hands between his knees and looked down at them, the way he sometimes did in church.

  “But why is this blood from heaven such a bad thing?” she heard herself insist, speaking, without intending to, on behalf of her mother, which sharpened her fear but didn’t succeed in killing her desire for an answer she could use against the weaker aspects of her personality.

  Jonathan replied, “It may not even be real.”

  “What do you mean? Falkon has been alive for centuries. It has to be real.”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard of the Placebo Effect. Falkon has preserved the same body and personality for hundreds of years, during which he developed certain powers, because he believed, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he could.”

  “What Jonathan is saying makes sense, Audrey. This mythical snf-en-pet might be like water from Lourdes, in France, where the Virgin Mary is believed to have appeared. Blood, water, it makes no difference, what makes the difference is what the person truly, fully believes about it.”

  Faith is the key to all we desire. Once again she recalled what Wilona had written in her aborted journal. “If I don’t believe Falkon’s blood is affecting me, then it won’t? But you told me yourself, Jonathan, that his receptors would begin influencing mine-”

  “The cold virus, like any other virus, is quite real to our physical body, and so is the negative effect a creature like Falkon can have on you. Your body fights dangerous invaders but it’s your mind that acts as the general who commands the troops mustered by your immune system.”

  Stuart murmured, “The ancient Egyptians believed Thought was a Divine faculty.”

  “But even insects think,” she argued. “Don’t they?”

  Jonathan said, a touch impatiently, “There’s a difference between simple brain function and thought.”

  “And here,” Stuart sounded less tired and more stimulated by the conversation, “we have the proverbial chicken and the egg. Do more complex brains create awareness or does consciousness mysteriously create its own vessels? The ancient Egyptians compared Thought to the flow of an endless river with no beginning or end and the brain as a vessel designed to contain it.”

  She said, “Which makes us all God’s vessels? But you always taught me to believe in evolution.”

  “Of course I did.” He seemed startled by the comment. “Evolution is a fact.”

  Jonathan quoted beneath his breath, “God works in mysterious ways.”

  “Yes,” Stuart nodded. “Creationists are bloody fools, not only for blatantly ignoring the facts but for believing they know exactly how God works. All they’re really doing is creating a reflection of their own pathetically limited minds.”

  She smiled. It made her feel better and more confident to see her father sounding like himself again—disgusted with ignorant people.

  The study door opened. “Excuse me for interrupting.” Dar
lene’s voice, of course.

  They all looked at her.

  “Wilona is awake and asking to see her daughter. Although it would be more accurate to say she is demanding to see her.”

  ⊕

  When Audrey walked into the room, Wilona was sitting up in bed.

  She did not want to be there. The reality of the situation was an affront to all the daydreams she had indulged in as a child of what it would be like when her mother miraculously came home. In these fantasies it didn’t matter why she had left or stayed away so long; all that mattered was how happy they all were again. Well, she knew now why her mother had abandoned her family, and no one was happy. Although that wasn’t completely true; she was definitely happy to have met Jonathan, very happy.

  “Audrey!” Wilona opened her arms. “Oh please come here and hug me, dear. Please don’t hate me!”

  “I don’t hate you.” But she did hate the feverish look in her mother’s eyes. “However, I don’t feel like hugging you just now.”

  Except for the fresh flowers Stuart had provided her with daily, Wilona’s bedroom looked exactly as she left it. It didn’t smell the same, though. Darlene had it cleaned regularly but there was a staleness to the atmosphere underscored by the subtle yet cloying scent of a lemon-based disinfectant. Reluctantly, she pulled out the little antique stool tucked beneath the Art Deco vanity and sat on it facing the bed.

  Wilona looked down, caressing and smoothing the white comforter against which her long red nails stood out as dramatically as drops of blood in a fairy tale. “How are you feeling, dear?”

  “Very well, thank you. Why do you ask?”

  “Why shouldn’t I ask my daughter how she’s feeling?” She still didn’t look up from her perfectly manicured hands.

  “I’m assuming you know Falkon gave me some of his blood to drink.”

  “He didn’t tell me.” Wilona looked at her now. “But I guessed as much.”

  “I found your journal up in the attic. You would have been much better off putting your faith in God than in a selfish old vampire.”

  “Oh Audrey.” She sounded more condescending than sad. “Do you really believe that?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Why? What evidence is there God exists?”

  “I think it would take me my whole life to answer that question. You asked to see me. In fact, Darlene says you demanded to see me.”

  “I did.” She glanced around her old room.

  “Not as nice as a castle, I know, but much more reliable. There’s something to be said for not having to worry that if you blink the house will vanish.”

  Wilona didn't smile at her little joke. “You don’t deserve him, you know.”

  “Who? Jonathan?

  “Oh please. You know perfectly well I’m referring to our master, Lord Falkon.”

  “Excuse me, but he’s not my master.”

  “As I said, you don’t deserve him. Only a fool would turn down what he’s offering you!”

  “What he’s offering me,” Audrey was relieved her mother had given up trying to be nice to her, “I don’t need. He believes his powers are greater than what anyone else can achieve the way God intended, but I don't.”

  “You have no proof God exists, Audrey, but you know Falkon does.”

  “Unfortunately!”

  “You don’t really mean that.”

  “Yes, I do, Mother.”

  “Wait until you begin growing old. Then we’ll see how much comfort a theoretical God will bring you!”

  The bitter fear in Wilona’s voice was hard to deal with. On the one hand she was tempted to get up and leave, on the other hand she wanted to say something to make her feel less desperate and afraid. Only problem was, the only cure for her malaise was faith.

  “I suppose I only have myself to blame for how selfish you’ve turned out, Audrey.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You have only to say the word and Falkon will let me live forever!”

  “You mean I have to agree to live with him forever as that bloody bitch, Afanasiia, and then maybe he’ll let you have a sip of that blood from heaven. What’s really sad is you don’t realize it’s not what’s in the vial that will enable you to live forever. It’s believeing it can that makes anything happen. You don’t need Falkon or some nasty old blood or anything else!”

  “Oh Audrey, are you really so simple minded?”

  “I’m tired of your insults.” She stood. “Good bye. I hope you won’t be staying long.”

  “No, wait, please! You don’t understand, I’m doing this for both of us!”

  “Insulting me?”

  “No. Please, sit down again. I’m sorry, but there’s something I have to tell you. It’s very important. Once you hear what I have to say, you’ll be in a better position to make an enlightened decision about… your future.”

  Audrey got the impression she had meant to say our future and stopped herself. Nevertheless, she sat down again.

  “Thank you, dear. I know at first you won’t believe what I’m about to say, but hear me out. Promise me you won’t interrupt.”

  “I’m not going to promise you anything.”

  “Fair enough. Are you… are you in love with Jonathan?” She didn’t wait for a response. “I hope not. You see, he’s the reason I ran away with Falkon.”

  “What?”

  “If you read my journal then you know about the wolf I was afraid of. You do know your boyfriend is a shape-shifter.”

  “Yes.” Relief flooded her. That was all?

  “I left because I was afraid for my life, Audrey. I’m not defending myself. I still would have been unfaithful to your father with Falkon, I still would have lived a double life, as they say, but I wouldn’t have been forced to leave here, and abandon my only daughter, if it hadn’t been for that bloody wolf following me everywhere I went. It wouldn’t let us be together here. But once I’d gone it didn’t bother following me, it didn’t care anymore. And then, soon afterward, Darlene came to work here, and she’s been here ever since.”

  “Yes, she has, and she’s more of a mother to me than you’ll ever be.”

  “I suppose I deserve that, but it doesn’t change the fact that Darlene is after Stuart’s money.”

  “Oh that’s rich, Mommy!” She laughed even though the little breakfast she had eaten suddenly felt like a brick in her belly. “You have a better imagination than I thought.”

  “Jonathan is her son and they’re land poor. There is no great Eckart Estate. The house, what’s left of it, is falling into ruin for lack of money to restore and maintain it. That’s why we were never invited over. And with me out of the picture, you’re set to inherit this place and all of your father’s money. Now enter the strikingly handsome, shape-shifting but dirt-poor Jonathan Eckart. You have no reason to mistrust the man who saved your soul from a monstrous vampire. How ungrateful you would seem if you made him sign a pre-nuptial agreement.”

  She had never heard anything so ludicrous in her life. She feared she might throw up, not only the bread she had eaten and the tea she had drunk but all her vital organs beginning with her heart.

  “Jonathan wants you to believe he’s superior to Falkon,” Wilona went on, her tone almost matter-of-fact, “and so he spouts all this nonsense about strength and faith because he and Darlene want you to do exactly as they say, not for your own good, but for theirs. Don’t be surprised if he asks you to marry him soon. And Stuart, it seems, is already quite taken with his future son-in-law, who makes sure they see eye to eye on everything.”

  “Wow, that beats any bedtime story daddy ever told me, except, that is, for it being so trite. Your perception of reality is as unimaginative and derivative as that sterile waiting room you greeted me in when we were supposedly in a castle in Scotland.”

  “We were in a castle, dear. We can go and be wherever we want to if-”

  “You mean Falkon can. We’re merely along for the ride.”

  “No.” Wilona sat
up straighter in the bed she had unmade for herself years ago. “Not if we both drink from that vial, Audrey. We’ll grow as powerful and as independent as he is! Don’t you see? We’ll be free, free of old age and death and free of men, men who love us but only if they can control us, and only for as long as we’re young and beautiful, and even then the novelty wears out sooner than later and their eyes begin to wander. That’s how nature works, but we’ll rise above nature and do exactly as we please, forever! Think about it, just think about it, dear. Don’t let them fool you and clip your wings so easily, for both our sakes.”

  “I will never be like Afanasiia again!”

  “Oh Audrey, that was a different time and place! Falkon isn’t the same man he was then, he’s changed along with the world. You’re both different people now. He never kills for blood anymore. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

  “But he still thinks compassion is a weakness, and without compassion there’s no such thing as love, not really. He may call it love, but it’s only a label he puts on his desire not to be lonely anymore. That’s why he’s fixated on me, his long lost bride, but he doesn’t actually love me, he’s just trying to relive his youth and recapture its innocent excitement like any common old man. Besides, Mommy dearest, you’re only including me in your grand plans, and trying to get me to mistrust Jonathan, because Falkon doesn’t want you anymore and you have no choice.”

  “Is that what you think?” Wilona fell back across the pillows again, but every line of her beautiful body transformed the gesture into one of languid contempt. “I offered to come here, love, and to speak to you on his behalf. He didn’t send me here, much less kick me out. Yes, I admit, I took the opportunity to have a little chat with your father about his research, just in case it doesn’t work out between you and Falkon, although why you would choose a greedy little shape-shifting mamma’s boy over a vastly powerful and wealthy vampire willing to give you eternal life as a wedding present for a second time, I simply cannot imagine! And don’t think I haven’t missed you and Stuart both, because I have, please believe me.”