Embraced by the Shadows

by Mayra Calvani

  Alana was aghast. “You drank my blood then?"

  "What would you have done if you believed without doubt that the man you had seen in the bazaar had deadly teeth? That all those vivid nightmares, all those flying trips in the night, had been nothing but the truth? I wanted to protect your sanity."

  "You wanted to protect my sanity,” she repeated, reflecting on his words. “How sensitive, how totally thoughtful of you. But I forgot, you're a very protective kind of guy. Should I thank you?” she whispered coldly.

  "Believe it or not, I did it thinking of your well-being."

  "You did good, didn't you? Goodness again."

  Sadash didn't answer, but he threw her an odd look.

  "All right. All right, fine,” she continued. “I can believe that. I can believe you did it to protect me. But what about the other part? What about drinking the blood of a ten year old, huh? What do you have to say about that?"

  "Say? I don't have to say anything. I am what I am."

  "Just like that? A child?"

  "I didn't hurt you. I merely tasted you. I have wanted you for twelve years. And yet I've waited."

  "But why me? What's so special about me? Why couldn't you just let me be? Didn't you ever hesitate, even for a moment? Didn't you stop to think?"

  "As a matter of fact I did,” he said, then sadly added, “I can't expect you to understand what drives us."

  "But why me? Why me and not someone else?"

  "You were beautiful. You were ... if you must know the truth, I've always had a weakness for red hair and black eyes."

  "I hate you,” she said after a moment.

  "You wished you did.” Then he added, “I'm sorry. In a way I hated that this moment must come, when I would have to make you remember. When I would have to make you understand our past."

  "All those times ... when I thought there was someone watching me or following me, when I thought I was paranoid.... It was you. All along, it was you."

  At this he grimaced lightly, but he didn't say anything.

  "How many times have you drank my blood?” she said. “That's why I feel so close to you, isn't it? We've always been connected, you and I. It's like a blood pact, except I wasn't a voluntary participant. That's why I couldn't take my eyes off raw liver, why I couldn't take my eyes off those TV shows where they show open heart surgeries. I always had to see the blood, it drew me like a magnet."

  "Stop making yourself miserable,” he said kindly, suddenly stopping the car.

  "I want to know! And just when will I remember everything?"

  For a moment she couldn't see anything. The surrounding darkness was engulfing. She was keenly aware of her uneven breathing, of her trembling hands. Watching him get out of the car, she suddenly felt an urge to jump into the driver seat and speed away from him. The idea! As if she had any chance of escaping.

  But Sadash had already opened her door.

  "Come,” he told her softly, offering her his hand. “And try to calm down. You'll know all you wish to know ... before the sun rises."

  A quick impulse made her clutch his hand. How to describe what she felt? Except for love and hate, and mind-shattering lust and fear.

  The air was cool and heavy with the perfume of moist soil and green leaves, and the shrill melody of insects and coquies was overwhelming. A waterfall hummed in the distance, its sound echoing across the mountain. In the distance she saw the peaked slate top of the Spanish tower, a huge mystical silhouette projecting out of the dense black foliage.

  Alana looked up at the sky. Black velvet, a clear shimmering carpet laced with diamonds. There it was in all it splendor—Sirius, she could also see the Orion constellation perfectly well.

  "Beautiful?” he asked her, giving her hand a little squeeze.

  Alana nodded. “Why did you choose this place?"

  "Sometimes you don't ponder enough, Alana. You don't look deeply into human beings."

  "You're not exactly a human being, you said so yourself."

  "Physically that's true. But in spirit, I am human. Very human. More than you think."

  "All right, so you're a hopeless romantic.” She studied his face. “Your skin is changing again ... shining again."

  "I know. Now, I want you to wrap your arms around my waist."

  "Are we going to fly?"

  "You're dying to do it, aren't you? This time I'll go slowly. Hug me around the waist. Yes, like that. Very good. Are you ready?” he said, embracing her, guarding her with his arms.

  "Yes,” she whispered, holding her breath.

  Slowly, ever so gently they ascended into the air, the dark cherry Porsche and the lush green trees becoming farther and farther under their feet. It was like no other thing she had experience before, and yet it was a familiar sensation. She knew exactly what it would feel like. She laughed anxiously like a child, clinging tighter against him and looking around her with widened eyes.

  Less than a minute later they stood on a round terrace edged by a five-foot peaked wall, which served as the roof of the tower.

  Alana pulled away from him and looked down over the wall, the moisture-laden breeze tousling her hair. The view was amazing. Under and all around them the dark forest was covered by a silvery blanket of fog. And beyond that, to the northeast, the hazy shoreline, distantly shimmering with thousands of lights from San Juan and its neighboring towns.

  "Are you cold?” he asked her.

  It was very cool. She should have felt very cold with only her shirt and shorts. But she wasn't. In fact there was a tingling warmth coursing inside of her.

  "No...” she said, slowly walking back towards the center of the roof, where he stood staring at her. “I guess I should be freezing, but I'm not."

  But she realized he was not listening to her. His eyes were slowly moving down her body, down her naked legs, then upwards to her breasts, to her neck, to her face. They settled upon her lips, which were half open and dry.

  Terrified of what she saw in his eyes, she moved away from him and went to stand again by the wall, adrenaline rushing madly through her veins.

  She turned to look at him. “I have many more questions,” she said, as if questions were her only excuse, her only protection.

  Sadash folded his arms across his chest and glanced down at the floor, muttering something under his breath.

  "What did you say?” she said.

  He half smiled. “Nothing. Ask me anything you want."

  "The sun, the fire, the stake through the heart ... Is it all true? Can they destroy you?"

  "That's the biggest misconception of all. The best secret kept by vampires. No element, no object can destroy us. Not the sun, not fire, not a stake through the heart. Not even crosses, not holy water, not garlic. Nothing can destroy us. We wouldn't be immortal if all those stories were true."

  "But I thought the sun..."

  "It can harm us, it can burn us, as fire can burn us. It can gives us unbearable agony and pain. It can turn us to ashes. Unthinkable suffering. But ashes is matter, and as long as matter lives, we live. It may take time for the burned matter to reconstruct itself. It may take years. But it ultimately does. Always. Even if the ashes are scattered in different continents. They eventually unite again. Our cells heal at a preternatural rate. The force that drives us—which I don't know what it is or where it comes from—is as powerful as that. Immortality is immortality. No more, no less."

  Alana digested his words, astonished. The horror and the miracle.... To live forever and ever and ever and ever...

  "I said no element, no object can destroy us. But there are two beings who can. One is your Maker. The other one is Yourself. So you see, Alana, it's no horror. We, too, if we wish, can finally hope for salvation, or eternal Hell, if such fictional states indeed exist, for I truly believe they don't."

  "Can you explain, please?"

  "It's very simple. Nothing can destroy me. Nothing whatsoever. Except for the psychic power of my own Maker, who will always be stronger than mys
elf. And except for my own calculated wish to destroy myself, to annihilate every particle, every sub-particle in my soul and in my body. Soul is made of particles, too. Only of a different kind."

  "Suicide."

  "Exactly. Fortunately, you don't have to live with the fear of being destroyed by your Maker. Your Maker will always make you in love and will never destroy you unless you ask to be destroyed. Like the most powerful of mother's instincts, a Maker will never turn against a Fledgling. There are times when a vampire doesn't have the will or the courage to destroy himself, so he asks his Maker. But I've only heard about stories like this once or twice in my lifetime. Beings who have reached the millennium and become insane. Suicide, too, is very unusual. The smell of blood makes our survival instinct undefeatable."

  "So if you wish to destroy yourself but your Maker is already destroyed, you still have yourself as a weapon of self destruction."

  "Exactly. I, for example, could never think about destruction. I love myself too much. I love humans too much. I love my existence too much. God, I love the blood draught too much! I'm addicted to it. But maybe I'm still too young. Once in a while, when I get tired of my own immortality, I go into a deep sleep for a few years. Once I slept for fifteen years without opening an eye. After all, what are fifteen years when you have eternity? But who knows how I'll feel a few hundred years from now. We change with time, just like humans. But while a human may need only a decade or two to change, we need a few centuries. I'm still practically my mortal self. I've hardly changed."

  "What about sleeping? Where can you sleep?"

  "Anywhere as long as it is away from the reach of sunlight. In a dark hotel room, in a cellar, under the ground.” He gestured toward the forest. “I could dig a hole and sleep under the ground. But I hate it. I hate insects, especially worms ... I hate worms! I've always preferred coffins. There's something very intimate and reassuring about them. A coffin in a cellar makes me feel safe."

  "This sounds like a stupid question, but where do you live?"

  "For the moment in a house in Garden Hills. I'll take you there soon."

  "We're living in the same district! No coincidence, I guess."

  He shrugged. “Distance is a meaningless concept for me."

  "How...” she began. She was having trouble concentrating, watching his face and forearms subtly glow like iridescent fire in the semidarkness. “Why does your skin glow like that?"

  "We don't know why this happens. But it happens when we're hungry. We get cold, too. After a feed we become warm again, the color of our skin goes back to normal. But you were very perceptive. A human has to be very perceptive to notice it."

  "Yes ... it's very subtle,” she agreed. “I thought vampires were very pale."

  "Fiction. Why should vampires be pale? Unless they were pale as humans in the first place. We don't sweat, we don't smell, we don't go to the bathroom. But we do feel the cold and the heat and we can cry."

  "Tonight, when I went into that bar to get the cigarettes, I saw your reflection in the mirror, but when I looked behind me..."

  "Call it ‘mass illusion,’ or ‘collective spell.’ It's another power we possess, though I've never seen a young vampire doing this. Think of it as a talent that comes with the years. Think of it as an electromagnetic shield we're able to build around us, making us invisible to the general mortal eye. It drains your energy, though. It takes much concentration. It leaves you weaker and hungrier. Unfortunately, and I don't know the reason why, this trick doesn't work with mirrors.” There was a pause.

  "Well? Anything else?” Sadash said.

  "Yes, of course. How—how long have you been in Puerto Rico?"

  "One year."

  "You said you had some business here. Was this true?"

  He gave her a guilty little smile. “Partial lie. I do have business here, but I'm not a software engineer like I told you. I have ... a chain of nightclubs."

  "Nightclubs?” Of course. How blind, how stupid she had been. “Nightclubs?"

  "Don't be so hard on yourself. Sometimes the obvious is so obvious it's inconceivable,” he said.

  "You lied to me!"

  "I couldn't tell you on our first date. It would have spoilt it. It would have been too bizarre."

  "Bizarre? Bizarre?” She cursed him under her breath. “I suppose you also own a place in Los Angeles called Fangs?"

  "Your dear friend, Humberto, was a regular customer there,” he drawled.

  Alana paled.

  "Don't worry, I would never harm someone close to you. I would never hurt someone you love."

  She nodded lightly. “How did I end up as the manager? Did you have that arranged, too? I don't know which act of my life is genuine and which is an illusion anymore. Everything is distorted. How did you force me into applying for the job? You used your damn telepathic spell, is that it?” She spat out the word “spell."

  "Ah, but you see, there lies the fatalism of it. I didn't influence you in any way to apply for that job. That position could have been filled by anybody, as far as I was concerned. It wouldn't have made any difference at all. But yet you noticed the opening in the newspaper, you—on your own accord—applied for the job. I laughed out loud when I found out you were obsessed by the idea of playing a vampire. Of course, I won't deny the fact that I told my agent to give you the job right away. The fact that you were obsessed by that job makes everything all the more final.” He clasped her by the shoulders and pulled her to him. “I know you don't understand, but we are meant to be together. I knew it the first night I saw you, when you wrapped your little arms around me and let me taste your blood. You did it freely, on your own accord, and your eyes were filled with urgency and love, and this had never, never happened to me with any other mortal before. And at that moment I knew ... Yes, yes, I perfectly knew."

  "You're ... You're crazy!"

  But he only shook her shoulders harder, almost cruelly. “Do you have any more questions? Then ask me. I want you to know everything you wish to know ... before I kill you."

  CHAPTER 8

  The look he flashed her sent a chill down her spine.

  "Before you kill me? So this is your aim all along—killing me! I knew I couldn't trust you. I knew you were lying to me. You promised you wouldn't hurt me. You promised. Do you think I want to die?"

  "You know you wouldn't be dying ... not really dying.” His hands were sliding up and down her arms.

  "And ... and not to see the ... the light of the sun again?” she stammered, confused, his touch muddling her like the poison of some exotic flower.

  "You'll drink sunlight..."

  "Don't touch me! I can't think when you touch me!” She pulled away from him and stood by the wall, turning her back to him.

  "Only a transformation...” he whispered.

  "Only a transformation...” she repeated, putting her hands flat against her temples, shutting her eyes.

  "Immortality ... and powers far beyond your beliefs ... and the infinite pleasure of the blood draught..."

  "No ... no..."

  "I'll always be here for you ... Your father, your lover, your teacher..."

  But killing ... killing?

  "You don't have to kill the innocents. Only feed on evil doers. The murderers, the drug dealers, the child molesters. And believe me, even them you'll kill in love."

  To kill in love?

  "Yes ... in love,” he said.

  There were so many more things she needed to ask, she needed to know, so many things she should ask...

  "What's your last name? I don't even know your last name,” she said, desperately grabbing at any thought that came to her head.

  "I don't have a last name. I was born without a last name. Last names didn't exist in Ottoman times. Didn't you know that?"

  "No."

  "Well, it's true. I later adopted one, of course. One can't go around dealing business without a last name. Sadash Ölmez, at your service. In Turkish meaning ‘immortal’ or ‘that one who
does not die.’”

  Hilarious. She suddenly felt like laughing. But here it was again ... that thirst, that throbbing, that nagging at her throat. Swallowing was agony. And it wasn't only her throat. The parchedness irradiated from her throat and spread like lava into her heart, into her limbs, into her very soul.

  "You're suffering...” he said behind her. “You asked me before how many times I have drank from you. You should have asked me how many times you have drank from me. The cursed spark runs in your veins. It's not alcohol that you've always craved. It's not wine ... it's blood."

  She was almost sobbing now. “No! You promised..."

  "And I'm only doing what I promised. To do your wish. And you want this, my beloved. I can read your heart as easily as I can read your thoughts,” he said. The fervent tenderness in his voice was like a lullaby.

  "I don't want to die ... I'm afraid...."

  "You weren't afraid last night, when you pushed that evil soul against the wall,” he said.

  "Evil? You are evil."

  "Goodness and Evil.... They're relative, they're not absolute concepts."

  "Goodness is absolute! Evil is absolute!"

  He laughed softly to himself. “We'll have many philosophical debates, but not now."

  Looking up to the sky, her face contorted into a grimace of pain.

  "I'll hate you forever...” she whispered harshly. But in fact she meant just the opposite, that she had always and would always love him.

  But already he had come behind her and slipped his arms around her waist, his head tilted down to feel her cheek. “If hate is what I feel in your spirit, then I'll take hate anytime. Shhh.... You're in pain. Why don't you let me soothe you ... cure you ... love you...?” he whispered. Her whole body stiffened involuntarily as she arched her neck to him.

  She reached for his mouth. He kissed her, the coolness of his lips scorching her, and with her eyes closed she felt his partially elongated teeth, their pointed little edges softly cutting her lower lip. She moaned, the metallic taste of her own blood sending an electric shiver down her back. But it was his blood she craved like a drug.