by SARA FREITES
“Shall I send out a group tonight? The sooner we deal with this situation, the better,” Blake advised Cavell.
“Yes. But please, be careful. I don’t want to lose you or any of my men,” Cavell cautioned.
“Of course, My Lord,” Blake nodded with a slight bow.
I'd heard enough. I prowled through the armory and headed back down into the main hallway when I ran into Bijou, my right-hand guard as well as my closest friend.
“I’ve been searching for you, my Lady,” she beamed. “I brought this for you…for your birthday. I thought it would be helpful if you wrote your spells down in this instead of on scrap sheets.
She drew a miniature leather booklet from her robes, this book you are now holding, and passed it to my eager hands. This gift was and still is perfect! The piles of loose paper I’d written spells on for years had grown difficult to keep up with, but now I had this!
I told her how beautiful and thoughtful the gift was before she left. I popped the clasp open and flipped through blank pages. I made myself comfortable in the nearest chair to study it. That’s where Cavell and Blake found me when they returned. Cavell asked me what I had, and I told him Bijou had given me the book to write my incantations in.
“Ah. We will be in need of those incantations soon,” was his reply.
I was sure he didn't expect me to know what he spoke of just yet, and I didn't lead on that I did. Every night after, Blake led a group to find the owner of the daggers. It seemed that their creator, the priest, had vanished from the home Blake's men discovered him in only days before. He had completely disappeared, leaving behind all of his belongings…all except the two daggers. I later overheard Blake tell Cavell that he believed the priest was either frightened off by rogue vampires…or that someone got to him before we did.
As I prepared for my hunt one evening, Cavell asked that he, Blake and a few guards accompany me. I had no plans to wait for them. I wanted to hunt alone that night. After all, I wasn’t required to do everything with him.
On normal hunting nights, Blake and three or four guards would walk about the streets nonchalantly alongside me. We'd scatter, dressed in commoner's clothing as not to draw attention. But not this night. This night, of my own pleasure, I hunted alone.
Thought I hated to kill humans, I felt invigorated after feeding, felt so much more alive! The muscles in my arms, legs and back tightened ever so slightly, and my eyesight sharpened. I savored the taste before heading back home with my entire body tingling. I’d almost reached the manor when I spotted a man on the street below. He lay nude, face down and motionless in the snow with one side of his face along the icy curb. The man’s skin appeared a faded cobalt blue against the white snow around him. There was no heartbeat. He must have frozen to death.
However, his scent was neither human nor vampire. As a matter of fact, I’d never sensed anyone like this before.
I should have left him there. I didn’t know him, but the human part of me took pity on the fallen man. More and more, I fall into my old human ways. Human emotion is horridly irrational. Yet, having knowledge of this, I still felt I couldn’t just leave the body there.
But then, he stirred. Awestruck, I waited there before moving in closer with caution. I asked him if he needed help, but he was unresponsive. When I touched his shoulder, I felt the impossibly subzero temperature that he was. As a vampire, I wouldn't normally experience cold as a sensation, but his skin was even colder than mine. It frightened me. This man should have been dead!
He shuttered at my touch and attempted to stand. All the while, he didn’t bother to cover himself as he became exposed. Despite this, his eyes were what drew my attention—a murky blue-gray fading into a perfect white where his pupils should have been. I’d never seen a human nor a vampire with such characteristics.
I offered him my oversized trench coat as he moved to his feet. He asked where he was in English, his voice raspy as if he’d just awakened from a deep sleep. He repeated it in French, which was just as perfectly spoken as his English. I told the man that he was in Paris and asked him what had happened to him.
His answer was strange. “I don’t know how to explain.”
I was confused, but then, I heard several human heartbeats. The man searched about with his two-toned eyes as if he could hear them, too. I told him to hide with me out of sight. I wasn’t entirely sure where to take the man but headed in the general direction of the manor through an alleyway. However, he stopped me. Without hesitation, his arms slithered around me and we were unexpectedly levitating several feet above the ground. We ascended outrageously fast, and within seconds, we were miles above the streets and buildings. I hadn’t felt such a thrill since I was human!
I asked him how he could do this, and he just smiled, his fangs drawing my attention. Both canine sets were far longer than I’d ever seen on anyone else. I continually questioned him about his ability to fly and asked specifically if he practiced the Lost Craft. Again, he didn’t answer, only introduced himself as Arlos and asked where I lived so that he could take me home. I hesitantly directed him to the manor.
When we landed on the manor rooftop, he had still not answered any of my questions. At that time, I identified myself as part of the Vampire Nation leadership, but it elicited no response. Blake and Cavell appeared immediately with guards in tow. And just like that, we were separated—I was escorted inside and Arlos was taken into custody.
From the night I brought home the man who called himself Arlos, Cavell kept him secluded in the manor prison. He was suspicious of Arlos but promised him freedom once he was assured that Arlos was no threat to us.
Due to the amount of time Cavell spent in the prison with Arlos, I had more time alone than usual, and I spent it writing in this booklet from Bijou. I wrote pages upon pages of spells I'd created, most of which I never thought I'd ever use. But having them at my fingertips comforted me. I decided only to write down the miscellaneous spells, ones I might use on hunts and so on. I kept the more powerful ones in my head, ones that could cause significant harm or that were irreversible. Fear was what kept me from writing everything down, a fear that someone with an equally powerful craft might attempt to use them. Someone like Arlos. And this is why I ended up casting a spell on the pages to appear blank.
One night while writing in my spell journal, as I referred to it, Blake called on me to discuss Arlos. He told me that Arlos claimed to have come from hell. Confused, I asked if he was the devil. Blake clarified that Arlos persisted that he was a demon, a hellhound, specifically Cerberus’ son. But Blake was not sure if we should believe him. He said that even under the duress of their questioning, Arlos maintained that he did not remember how he got here. Blake and Cavell believe only one explanation—someone using the Lost Craft tore a passageway between hell and Earth, and this may have allowed Arlos to slip through.
I couldn't help but feel sick. Several weeks had passed since I had begun practicing magic between the dimensions. This advanced type of magic allows a caster to pull energies from other realms, which provides a stronger mana for more effective spell casting. Therein lies a rare possibility of drawing spirits through the portals, but I never thought nor read in my studies that this practice had the power to bring forth a demon straight from hell.
I will never be certain if I had a hand in Arlos' appearance on Earth. I know of no one else who uses the vampire craft as I can, and thus, I feel responsible for Arlos. I thought that if he ever caused problems inside the Vampire Nation, I'd have to be the one to get rid of him. I am possibly the only one who can.
Apparently, from what Blake told me, Lord Cavell determined that Arlos did not pose a threat to us. Cavell planned to release Arlos from confinement and allow him to join the royal court. Naturally, Arlos would not be allowed to leave now that he knew about the vampires. But Blake told me of the disturbing fondness Cavell had developed for the self-proclaimed demon, that he seemed to think Arlos would be an asset to us. I was in shock and also off
ended that Cavell had not discussed any of this with me. I learned that he did not discuss it with Blake, either. Blake voiced that he didn’t trust Arlos and that I shouldn’t, either.
“Maybe he is completely harmless.” I said to Blake hopefully.
“Lady Latresma,” Blake said as he stopped in front of me to look me directly in the eyes. “I’m speaking to you as a friend now. Don’t allow yourself to be fooled. There is something about him that I can’t explain, and it is not just that he is a demon. Trust me, my Lady.”
Later that evening when Arlos was released, he stood together with Blake, Terry, Cavell, me and a few other guards. Cavell explained to us how he felt about Arlos. He believed Arlos to have knowledge and skills unmatched within our community. He insisted that Arlos had demonstrated some of his great powers and that he had decided Arlos would make a great addition to our clan. He went on to assure us all that there was no need for hesitation or to be frightened.
But I couldn’t understand how Cavell felt this way. To me, and no doubt to countless others, this was irrational and out of character for him. Cavell is protective, an over-thinker. He would not normally make such a decision without counsel from the court, without counsel from me.
Blake rose against the idea, pointing out that we had no clue what Arlos was capable of. At that point, he asked to speak with Cavell privately. In a very tense moment, Cavell told him that Arlos had a right to hear any concerns about him. Blake challenged him and said that he did not feel it was appropriate. However, Cavell held firm and told Blake that Arlos deserved to hear what he had to say since they would be working closely together.
Blake was aghast and questioned, “Closely? I don’t agree with what you’re doing here. You’re taking someone off the street and handing him responsibilities that he may or may not be capable of handling. You’re also allowing this...demon…into our sanctuary, a place where we should all feel safe. But ever since he’s come to us, I’ve sensed a fear and not just within the few people in this room. What do we know of demons, of their powers, their intention, his intentions? Lord Cavell, I feel you’ve put this clan in its entirety in danger by bringing this stranger here and allowing him to take over a number of our sensitive duties. I believe the trials you’ve put him through are not sufficient enough in testing his loyalty to you and this court. What I’m trying to convey is that you should give Arlos more time to show you who he is. I want what’s best for this clan. But with all due respect, we don’t know Arlos and neither do you.”
Blake was right. I felt we all knew it. And yet it wasn’t like Cavell not to see this, to blatantly disregard our concerns and push such uncertain circumstances onto the court. And I could see it in Arlos’ eyes then. He did not take kindly to Blake’s brazen act of disapproval.
After some time of talking, Cavell agreed with Blake but asked for time to change our minds about Arlos. Then, he instructed Arlos to shadow Blake and Terry in their duties so that they would warm up to him. This did not go over well but was reluctantly done as Cavell asked. From that point onward, when I saw Blake or Terry, I saw Arlos. And Blake did not keep quiet about his dislike for Arlos. There wasn’t a guard on duty that didn’t know about it. And it was easy to see that Arlos did not care for Blake, either.
One evening thereafter, Arlos came unannounced into my room. Alone. He entered without being invited, saying that he wanted to speak with me privately. He commented that I appeared discontent and asked if it was because of him. I wondered if I’d truly made it so apparent that his presence uneased me. I lied to him, told him no. He edged closer to me as we spoke, telling me that I seemed lonely sometimes, withdrawn even. As I stood at the window overlooking the city, his arm caressed my shoulder while he drew the curtains back just enough for the moonlight to shine across my face. I found myself strangely giddy at his touch.
“Come outside with me,” he urged.
I hesitated and faced him. The way he tilted his head, looking down at me with tapering eyes as if trying to read my mind caused an unexpected pull in my stomach.
I stammered, taken aback by my inability to speak. “That would be nice,” I found myself finally saying.
He opened my window and pushed it out with both hands, then turned up his palm to me. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he reassured me as a warm smile spread across his face.
I timidly slipped my hand into his, his icicle fingers wrapping around my wrist. He commented on how beautiful he thought I was in a sensual voice that made my stomach unexpectedly flutter in a most human way. If my heart were beating, it would’ve beat out of control. He led me onto the balcony with his hand pressed against my lower back. At his touch, my stomach calmed, and I somehow felt soothed. The closeness of his body made me unspeakably excited, and somehow, I couldn't overcome the feeling of wanting him to kiss me. It was an intrusive thought, as if someone else had planted it like an unwanted seed in my head...but at the same time, I wanted it. I wanted him.
I stopped myself. I stopped him. I told him it wasn’t right and that he should leave. I swore I saw a red haze fall over his eyes for a fraction of a second. My thoughts went to Cavell and how often he left me alone, how much I wanted someone to be there, someone I cared for and not a man I was being forced to marry. I craved attention, attention from anyone. A little would be plenty.
I had to shake my head of these invading thoughts. Where were they coming from? I’d never before felt this way, and it frightened me. Eventually, as I tried to make sense of the onrush of feelings, I decided that a midnight walk with a trusted guard may be good for me.
It would be harmless, or so I thought.
I caved. He took me in his arms and we bolted up toward the stars together. We flew long into the night until the sun threatened to rise. I was disappointed that the morning had arrived so quickly. I have to admit, Arlos somehow became charming to me. His features were sultry, and he knew how to manipulate them to cause the butterflies that had been dead in my stomach for so long to flutter about, a feeling I had not felt since before my rebirth.
Arlos took us back to the manner, but after entering my room, he leaned in. Before I realized it, his icy, thin lips were against mine. I backed away, speechless.
“Forgive me. It won’t happen again. I apologize,” Arlos said and left me alone in my room.
I found a single rose on my dresser every night I hunted after this. I knew it was Arlos. At first, I’d throw the blooms away in a panic. But after some time, I collected them in a vase. The more I thought about the kiss we shared, the more I strangely longed for Arlos’ presence. I couldn’t explain the urge I began feeling—to want to just be standing in the same room with him. It was overwhelming at times after catching his scent in the hallway or spotting his handsome face amongst the guards. Along with these feelings came a sense of loneliness and the feeling that only Arlos could fill that empty void.
The demon began visiting me in my room while Cavell was out of the manor. He and I would fly over the city together or sit on the rooftop talking for hours. I felt so comfortable around him that it was as if I’d known this man all my life. We could talk about anything. We laughed at the same things and even shared some of the same quirks and interests. My hunting nights became more frequent during the week, even when I wasn’t hungry, just so that Arlos and I could be alone.
So that no one would catch on, I asked Cavell to assign Arlos as my guardian instead of Blake. Once this was done, there would be no more concern of our spending time together.
Cavell was pleased with my request just as Arlos had predicted. Cavell fancied Arlos so much that not even Blake could measure up anymore.
Arlos became interested to the brink of obsession in my spellcasting abilities. He asked me to explain how I used them and what I could do with them. I felt so adored and admired. I explained to him that I didn't have many spells that I considered powerful. As a vampire, I didn't need them, but I knew how to create them if need be. He constantly told me that I was more powerful th
an I thought and promised to guide me in using my spells to mature my abilities. It sounded intriguing. However, I never pursued his offer. I knew what I could do, and I didn't need anyone's help.
I found it so easy to talk to him. I felt that I could tell him anything. But after I confided in him about my dislike of hunting humans, he questioned my feelings for them, why I cared for them so much. I knew he nor any other vampire would ever understand it, so I never bothered explaining it to him. But he did tell me that he could make me feel human…if I wanted…
And after this conversation, Arlos strangely had an elaborate bed with a canopy brought to my room with a note from him that said he would visit me in my dreams. Vampires don't sleep, much less dream, but after that night, on the occasions when Arlos and Cavell were away, I'd miraculously tire and fight an unbearable urge to lie down. Thankful for the bed, I'd fall into an instant, deep sleep…and dream of Arlos. Some nights, the dreams were short—dreams of us sitting on a dock, talking about leaving the clan together. Other nights, I dreamt that we flew over a city that I wasn't familiar with. In the dream, Arlos told me this city was London. The dreams were so vivid, so real that I'd never have known the difference if I hadn't awoken in bed afterward. I couldn't explain how I slept those nights nor could I explain the dreams. I kept it to myself. I feared I was losing my mind and wondered if Arlos was the one responsible.
These dreams happened for months, ever so slowly becoming passionate. In the fall of last year, Arlos purchased a small cottage on the outskirts of Paris. Curiously, it resembled the one I’d dreamt of. We began spending even more time together there. It was a romantic home, small but always warm and bright with a large fireplace in the living room and an exquisite master bedroom set in the back.