Futile Flame

by Sam Stone

  ‘It’s human in shape. Male,’ Lilly says. I don’t know how she can tell: I can barely make out its outline on the horizon.

  I turn the car into an unlit lane. We are somewhere in Cheshire. I watch the headlights bounce as we make our way along the uneven track. Ahead of us, the creature has changed its direction. It halts in the air and comes flying back towards us. I react by braking hard. The car skids in the mud, with its huge wheels scraping noisily against a raised, natural grass verge on the driver’s side, before coming to a halt. The being, He, draws closer.

  Lilly digs her nails in my arm. I feel the blood seeping from my torn skin as I turn to her. Her face is still and beautiful. She doesn’t appear afraid, but I can feel her nervousness as her aura laps mine. She always touches me when she feels worried.

  Darkness.

  Nausea rips at my insides as vitality leaks from my limbs. My head flops back. I have no control over my body, not even my neck. I feel Lilly slump beside me. Her breathing becomes shallow. My stomach clenches. I feel hollow and worried for her, despite my own pain. Coldness slips into my veins as my blood turns to icy sludge.

  Paralysis.

  I stare up at the sky through the sunroof. The night is scattered with the worlds of the galaxy. I wait. Reason tells me that if we can sense this thing then surely it knew of our presence. We are clearly being stalked.

  Nothing happens.

  The stars stare down declaring me paranoid. Outside the car, the sounds of nature make a mockery of my phobia even though my body is a prisoner. The haunting call of an owl echoes through the trees on the right. I hear the hopping rustle of a hare, the twitter of insects, the crackle of leaves falling in the breeze. All normal night-time sounds exaggerated by my sensitive hearing.

  A black blur gathers around my eyes. I force them to focus on the sunroof. Above me a hole appears in the sky and swallows the stars. It floats high above us, stopping over the car. I can feel it looking.

  ‘Mother!’ The cry is mournful. For a moment I imagine it is all in my mind.

  Lilly gasps. It is the only sound either of us is capable of making. I try to turn my head but can’t move. I concentrate all my efforts into moving my head and I turn it with effort, catching the frozen outline of my lover as she gazes up open-mouthed.

  ‘Mother!’ it calls again. The voice is male.

  Lilly blinks. She too is forcing her body to work again.

  ‘Old...’ she croaks.

  I also feel the age of the creature. It makes my skull ache.

  I feel eyes boring into me and my head flops back again. Still I can see nothing. My eyes burn. Pressure builds behind them. My brain throbs as though I will suffer some vampiric aneurysm. The pain is excruciating. Small sounds force from my lips. Maybe this is how a diver feels when he goes too deep? My ears hurt. I’m certain the drums will burst if relief doesn’t come soon. My eyes and nose stream blood, not water or any other secretion that leaks from them.

  ‘Stop it,’ Lilly gasps and immediately the tension behind my eyes releases.

  The relief is instant. The muscles in my face and neck cramp; they have been held so taut that they ache.

  ‘Leave us alone,’ Lilly shouts at the entity.

  I hear the wind rush around it, helping it gather speed as it soars higher, heading – I don’t know where – but away. As fast as possible, almost as if obeying her command.

  My limbs awake and I throw myself against the door, coughing and spluttering as I pull at the handle. My fingers feel numb, the strength barely returning. The door flies open, tumbling my frantic body outside onto the dirt track road. I land on all-fours, vomiting up the blood and steak we had consumed that evening. The nausea is endless. I dry heave until my stomach, throat and mouth hurt from the effort.

  ‘Gabi,’ Lilly croaks.

  I crawl around the car, unable to stand. I find Lilly on her knees too. Her stomach balks. I smell the sickness on her breath. Beside her, I hold her hair away from her face until the nausea leaves her. She collapses against me and I hug her close. Afraid, so very afraid that the thing we have encountered could have killed her. She is so young, so much more fragile than I.

  When we feel able, I turn the car and head back to Manchester. Hopefully Lucrezia will have some answers soon.

  Chapter 18 – Lucrezia’s Story

  Escape

  Rome had not been my home for several years. As I made my way there, travelling by night and sleeping by day, I reflected on the corruption of my life. I missed my children and wondered often if they were safe, especially Isabella. Was my new baby thriving without my love? Since the night of my rebirth there was not even the pain of mother’s milk left in my breasts to remind me of my child. I had altered so much, was now completely inhuman. Childbirth could probably never recur in my new and improved body. Even so, I intended to forsake men now. They had been cruel and faithless. My brother’s influence felt like a distant nightmare. With every step I took away from my old life, I began to believe I could forget all that had happened.

  During the day I felt reasonably strong, even though the sun was excessively painful at times. However in the night I had superior strength. The moon shone on my limbs with glowing energy. In the woods, under cover of dark, I danced like a witch in the glare of the moon, all the time watching my whitening flesh glow luminous. It was as though my skin reflected its cold flame. For to me the moon was cold; I could feel its freezing rays as intently as I could suffer the burning touch of the sun.

  I would walk or run through the night. I felt no fear alone, though when I slept in the daytime, I could have been vulnerable. Even then I had no concerns that I could be hurt or that I was in any danger. Maybe it was foolish to allow this feeling of invulnerability to wash through me like a cleansing fire purging a sinner. It wiped away all traces of the pain I’d suffered during my human life. I didn’t feel evil, but knew I must be. Therein lay the ultimate freedom. I did not fear death; I was already shunned by God. No man could harm me; I knew I could outmatch the strongest.

  The hunger, at times, was agony. I scrambled around for food, drank water from streams; caught fish with my bare hands and cooked them in the woods outside of the towns. No matter how much food I ate, the emptiness and pain was never eased. I stumbled on, sometimes feeling like an addict deprived of some terrible obsession. Through woods and forests, into towns, stealing food whenever and wherever I could. Yet the hunger intensified until it gnawed at my insides. The pain of it threatened to drive me mad.

  So, almost insane, feeling every inch an outcast, a revenant, I reached the final village that would mark the last leg of my journey to Rome. It was mid afternoon. I had roused myself early and walked through the burning sun to reach the town before the night watch locked the gates. By now my peasant garb was dirty and I felt invisible amongst the other peasants.

  As I walked through the gate I saw her for the first time: An olive-skinned, pretty girl. Clearly from a good family, though not aristocracy. Her dark hair shone with auburn highlights in the afternoon sunshine. Her open, warm eyes were light brown, flecked with hazel. She was slender, girlish and fragile. As I looked at her, stepping up into her carriage beside her mother and younger brother, a strange lust rushed into my loins. I felt my gums prick as my teeth extended. I began to believe that in some way I had changed sex. I had never looked at other women this way, although I had always been able to recognise beauty and charm in others. I stumbled against the wall of a local shop and pushed myself around the corner to avoid being seen. I watched her carriage depart. I wanted to follow, had to, but was afraid that I would be seen. I wished right then and there that I could be truly invisible, that I could follow totally unseen.

  A cold numbness entered my limbs. I stared down at my body. My clothing and my skin had merged into the wall. I had begun to melt away. I cried out in fright and my body became whole again immediately. As I stood there, I thought once more of the subconscious wish I’d made. I had willed myself invisible, an
d it had happened. Could that be possible? Consciously I desired invisibility again. I watched in amazement as my colours changed, observed how I merged, or seemed to merge, with the scenery even when I moved.

  I glanced up at the road, and could no longer see the carriage. I believed at that point I would never see the girl again. I began to move deeper into the town, looking for a place to rest. All thoughts of her pushed away by my new discovery. I walked through the village completely unnoticed now. The coldness in my limbs became more comfortable the more I retained the invisibility. I stood in the middle of a bakery shop, admiring the pastries, cakes and bread; all luxuries I had been denied over the previous weeks. I rested my hand on a loaf. My contact affected its appearance immediately. I soon realised that I could take what I wanted and no one would ever see. The food disappeared at my touch so I helped myself and folded the goods into my clothing before scurrying away. Finding a corner, I sat and ate. The food tasted like nectar. After eating, I went into the stable attached to the tavern and climbed up into the hayloft to sleep.

  The next day I woke to the sounds of a stable hand whistling as he fed the only horse stabled there. I heard the horse crunching the hay, smelt the sickly sweet odour of the dried grass mingled with the animal’s saliva. The boy left and quickly returned with a bucket of water, which he tipped into a trough. As the animal ate and drank, I watched the boy examine the horse’s legs, lifting its hooves as he used a knife to clean out the road grit from its shoes. I wondered how I might slip away unnoticed but then recalled my latest discovery from the previous night.

  Invisible, I slipped out of the stables, into the street, ready to examine the shops and houses of the village. Now that I could move about unseen, the need to leave quickly diminished. I was curious about being around people again. I knew I wouldn’t starve as taking food and clothing would no longer be difficult.

  The streets were still deserted as I walked down them, weaving in and out of the well-structured buildings. This close to Rome, the town was more civilised than the others I’d been in so far; the formations more like Roman houses and roads. It was a large town. It had many amenities, including a bath house; a desirable prospect. The touch of warm water was something I had almost come to believe I would never feel again so I kept it in mind to do later. There was the bakery again, a ladies dressmaker, a general store, a grocer and of course a market that sold fresh fish, meats, imported fabric and all kinds of household items from brooms to pots and pans.

  I wandered through the market watching the merchants set up and stood by as the morning extended. The meat stall drew me. The smell of blood pulled at my insides. I knew I needed it, had to have it. But would animal blood fulfil me as much as human? The market began to fill. A servant girl weaved her way through the crowd towards the meat vendor; she had such strange arrogance that she drew my attention. Behind her loitered a young mother and a small child followed closely by the husband. I watched their progress as they travelled from one stall to another. The servant leading, the employers following. Then I saw the exchanged looks between the man and the girl and realised where her haughtiness came from. For now at least, she was the honoured lady of the house, the wife merely a token or figurehead. I turned away as I heard the screams and wails of another child. My eyes fell on a small boy, who I vaguely recognised. He was standing before a stall selling toys. No longer invisible, I merged with the crowd, moving closer to hear the conversation.

  ‘Joanna said I could have it!’ the boy cried. ‘She promised.’

  ‘I know, Peatro, but your sister isn’t here. We must wait. She’s gone to see the dressmaker.’

  ‘But I want it now!’

  The governess glanced at the stallholder, shrugging with slight embarrassment as Peatro stamped his foot.

  ‘She will be here shortly. I didn’t bring my purse with me.’

  ‘Then I’ll take it and you wait here for Joanna to pay.’

  The stall holder twitched his long moustache nervously, ‘I’m sorry but nothing leaves my stall until paid for.’

  Peatro looked at the man with contempt. ‘Do you know who I am? My father is the justice here.’

  The governess sighed. She had obviously seen Peatro play this one out before. ‘Peatro...’

  ‘Joanna!’ the boy shouted. The pretty girl I’d noticed the day before arrived. ‘They won’t let me have the gift you promised.’

  Joanna patted her brother indulgently and promptly paid for the wooden top that he desired. Peatro snatched it from the stall and ran off down the street to try it out. The governess followed.

  ‘Sorry,’ Joanna said to the stall owner. ‘He is only a boy, and not very patient.’

  The stallholder said nothing, but handed Joanna her change. She quickly walked away, a slight flush of embarrassment colouring her cheeks.

  I moved closer to the stall.

  ‘Who is she?’ I asked.

  I met the man’s gaze. For a moment it seemed as though he would send me away without answering. After all I no longer looked like the proud lady I once was. My manner too felt as lowly as my dress. I wore the grime of several weeks on the road. The man rolled his eyes and sighed.

  ‘She is Justice Adimari’s eldest daughter, and pleasant enough. The boy is her spoilt little brother.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  My eyes followed as Joanna continued to weave through the crowd and away from the small market. Compelled, as I had been when I first saw her, I pursued. Joanna Adimari’s simple beauty had completely seduced me.

  Chapter 19 – Lucrezia’s Story

  Obsession

  I tracked them home. I had to. My obsession with Joanna pulled me along as though I had been tethered to her with an invisible cord. Her beauty and innocence were my seduction. Her patience, my desire. Her blood, my need.

  For part of the journey I had to hide myself from human eyes once more. The streets were empty as we left the town centre, but my fangs burst forth at the distant sight of her. It was an instinctive response to a desire that was both sexual and impulsive. It was completely beyond my control. On some level I recognised it as a crush reminiscent to those I’d had with various men throughout my life. Guilt at the perversity of wanting another woman in this way crept up the back of my neck, where I felt my skin flush and prickle.

  Desire drove me. I was its victim. Joanna had me in her thrall. I knew that what I needed from her could only be taken, would never be freely given. I knew that what I wanted would be effectively rape, the same as I had suffered at the hands of my brother for all those years. That thought alone should have sent me scurrying away in shame and horror, but the idea of being the one in control and of taking someone else for my own needs was so compelling that I had to see how far I could go.

  Joanna and her family lived in a house next to the court, in the centre of the town. The Justice had accumulated wealth, probably as all of them did, from the handouts of the semi-wealthy merchants who wanted favours from him in return. It was business. Politics. I understood these things too well, had seen them in my own childhood world. Many an innocent would have paid the price for the Justice’s political advancement which meant that with money and power also came enemies, and the Justice’s enemies could find him all too easily. Therefore the house was surrounded by a high wall which completely enclosed it, keeping out the criminal world and keeping him and his family safe.

  As they approached the house I noticed the discreet guard that flanked their progress along the road. How stupid of me not to observe them weaving in and out of the crowd in the market. Joanna and Peatro ignored the six men; clearly this was borne out of a lifetime of familiarity, but the governess glanced at them nervously as they drew closer to the huge gates of the house. One of the guards whistled, and a side gate swung open allowing them all to enter.

  I stood across the street, watching my obsession disappear into the whitewashed building. As the door closed behind her it was as if a magnet had been switched off. My fangs retracted.
I was trembling. I felt like the victim.

  Rage took me swiftly. Anger and pain, mixed with grief and remorse. I had been in the thrall of someone else, and I hated her for that. I realised that, in my new life, no one should have power over me. I was in control of my life and destiny. I had amazing strength and speed. I would never willingly lose control. Joanna’s beauty was a fascination. It had compelled me, but in the end I could, if I wanted, walk away. My mind, not my new nature, would decide.

  At that moment, my mind wanted to kill Joanna Adimari.

  I waited until night had fallen, growing hungrier by the minute. As soon as it was dark, I crept unheard and unseen into the house of the Justice. It was so easy now I was invisible. I scaled the wall that surrounded the house as though it was nothing. The merest dent or groove was an easy foot or hand-hold for me as I gathered speed and almost flew to the top. Once there I looked down the other side. The drop was around thirty feet into the courtyard. There was a guard below and despite my chameleonic nature I was concerned that I might be hurt from the fall and be caught, so I walked along the top of the wall. It was so easy to balance; I felt like a cat strutting through the night, and, as I’d noticed previously, my night vision was excellent.

  Halfway around, the wall passed close to an elaborate bedroom balcony. Candlelight flickered within the room. I paused, looking inside, trying to see whose room this was. It was simply furnished with a plain bed, a dresser, and a wardrobe. After a few moments I noticed the governess moving inside. She blew out the candle and left.

  The family were gathering for dinner. I could hear the chatter from the dining room below. The gentle clatter of places being set echoed up through the house. I knew only that my sensitive ears could make out these distant and compelling sounds. They told me a story, almost conveying the image of the act into my mind. I could see the servants rushing around; every movement I heard showed me the image in my mind’s eye.