Sands of Time

by Christine Church

  I remained in that world for quite some time, as it was so well hidden from everything I had ever known. Yin would not find me in such an untamed locale. I would return to find him later, when I was ready.

  I chose to avoid the natives of that place, as they seemed less than pleased to accept strangers on their land. I remained well hidden within sunless shelter during the day, having watched how these peoples made their pointed dwellings, which reminded me a bit of the pyramids from home, which kept us safe during the scorching daylight hours.

  Eventually, however, I was ready to return to the old world. I charmed the Captain of a ship and was off towards my home once more. I returned to England, but nothing there brought me anything but heartache, so I headed north to Scotland.

  At one time, being a guest in the homes of nobility was commonplace for me. And if I had still held position I would have invited myself into the world of Mary Stuart. But, high society no longer intrigued me. I remained as a shadow for over 150 years.

  I finally settled outside a small village called Paisley in Renfrewshire away from political influences and the conflicts of Scotland, England and France.

  I moved into a diminutive cottage long abandoned, not much different but slightly smaller than the place where Lihua and I had resided so long ago in England. I kept to myself, but on occasion was plagued by villagers coming to call, to appease their curiosity of this strange woman who dwelt alone in the deep woodlands over the glen, and was never seen marketing, visiting, attending services, or doing any other activity during the daylight hours.

  In this way, news from the town did find its way to me. It was not long that the word 'witch' flitted through town and into the forest. Just the year before, in 1696 a small child of the name Christian Shaw, daughter of the Laird of Bargarran, was rumoured to have fallen victim to demonic possession. From there, many close to the lass were accused and imprisoned. I took this turn of events as fortunate to my predicament. I did not, of course, wish to be executed. Would hanging end my eternal existence? Of that I could not be sure. However, fire would surely see me to my end. And daylight execution would surely hasten their plans! Those that had supposedly possessed the poor child were strangulated by hanging, their bodies later burned.

  I admit I took close liberties on this. I wanted none to come to my cabin. I wanted to exist in peace. A well placed word here, suggestion and whisper there and word arrived that I had been the next accused.

  They came during a dark night of the waning moon, light of torches against the trees around my cabin flickered in a deathly glow. I opened the door before they could knock and a damp breeze brought to me the scent of my doom.

  They dragged me out, I feigned a fight, screaming profanities in my ancient language, which they mistook for the devil's babble, and threw me atop a horse.

  They had a rope noosed and ready over the bough of a tree only a short distance away. I admit nerves nearly overcame me. I could easily have overpowered these humans, but I held my breath as they placed the noose around my neck, rough strands of hemp scratching at my flesh. Your own death is an experience you never forget. And each detail stands clear within your mind. I could not be sure if this might kill me; I could not be sure what, if anything, would kill me, other than fire and the sun.

  For precaution sake, I loosened easily the bindings that held my hands by tugging on the ropes, enough to slacken yet not allow them to fall and give away my strength nor my eventual freedom. So were my hopes. Still, my heart pummeled within my breast and a thin sheen of sweat covered my body beneath the loose grey dress I had chosen to wear that night.

  I closed my eyes. I heard the whip snap, the horse’s back brush across the cloth between my legs as the animal took off. Simultaneously, I heard the snap, felt excruciating pain from the back of neck up into my head.

  I opened my eyes. At first, all was dark, but then I saw them. Stars, everywhere stars. The wide open sky spread out above. I was lying on the cold ground. Scanning with my eyes, I saw two men standing in the fog near a tree; the same tree in which I met my death. I was in the field adjacent the forest. My neck had snapped. I had heard it. I had felt it. But I was alive still. Since no one was looking at me, I turned my head. No pain and every limb moved just fine. My body had healed, not allowed my death. A stack of wood had been thrown less than a rod from where I lay. This was where they planned to burn my body. As they steadied the horse and pulled the rope from the bough, I stood, slouched to avoid detection, and disappeared into the black forest. But I did not run. Instead, I stood within a copse of brush and watched.

  I could not help the grin as they turned and found my body gone. Ah, what sweet deception to watch them searching, then arguing amongst themselves as to where my body had gone. I was surely dead, they conceded. I had no breath, no heartbeat. They thought me dead, and so dead I should remain. I returned to my home. I would make sure no one bothered me again.

  And so, the rumour spread. According to the townsfolk, the devil had chosen to take my body away, however my demonic ghost haunted the woods in and around the cabin. Being that I was not actually Scottish added to their belief in this fabricated tale. Foreigners were never to be trusted, and I was 'of foreign tongue, and dressed most peculiarly.' Not to mention my nighttime habits and lack of ever taking a meal or attending services. From then on I was known as 'the Ghost Witch of Paisley Wood.'

  I remained in this place and here I would stay, until I heard some news of Yin, or even a tale as to where I might locate him. Only finding Yin and ending his 'cure' mattered to me then.

  Now, however, my quest has led me in a completely different direction and what I have found has taken me off guard.

  One night, not long ago, I sat by the fireplace reading when I felt a presence nearby. I stilled, placed down my book and concentrated. This was not a familiar sensation. Not human. Not Yin. Not a child of the Pet Mer. But, something—something that tickled my senses. Something—familiar. A 'blood drinking aberration,' as Yin had termed them.

  I had come across them a few times in the many lifetimes of my existence and I knew the feel of them. And I always tried to make myself known to them, get to know them. I needed to know more about them. Were they worth destroying? Were they dangerous, as Yin had described? Lihua was not.

  I was not sure if they could sense me as I could them, and so I needed to be cautious. I sneaked quietly from the cabin. There was but a quarter moon, shadows cast from the trees so dim no human eyes could see. But, this was not the presence of humans. How well they could see through the mud of night I could not be sure. Lihua’s vision had been very similar to my own in the night. Whether or not that applied to all blood drinkers who stalk the night was beyond my comprehension at the time. Within the shadows of the night trees, I watched. He was not alone, yet I sensed only one. The two of them were dressed in different clan tartans, and none from this area.

  They strode casually along the narrow path from town, not at all guarded, stepping perfectly even though I had never seen them in this region, as if they too could see easily without sunlight. I assumed they must both be 'children' made by others. Vampyres as we who walked the night in search of blood had long been stereotyped. Except, according to the legends I heard, vampyres were cursed, dead beings come to life. Perhaps this myth came about because the humans who were altered by one of our kind, in a sense, ended their human life to begin a new life, needing blood to survive and existing only by night. But, very much alive they are, just—different. Our hearts beat just as theirs, we have souls, if such thing exists, for we are not demons from hell. Yet that is how we were seen.

  What I saw on that night confirmed my suspicions that these were not beings to be feared, not beings to be 'cured,' but humans who had been altered into something else, whether or not they had wished it.

  As the Pet Mer were over-sensitive to the sun on this planet, as are most of these 'Vampyres.' Even the Half-Bred such as myself—born from a Pet Mer and human pairing. This trait p
assed along in the blood from the Pet Mer. A rare few, I had heard, could walk in sunshine, a trait given by the human in their lineage.

  Perhaps one day I will learn more about the science behind my blood line, but thus far Yin is the only Half-Bred Alchemist I have come across.

  As I watched them, curiosity within me grew near overwhelming. Why could I sense only one? If the other was human, I could not smell his blood. Something was not quite right. And I could not sense which was vampyre…?

  Both halted suddenly as if run into a wall that did not exist. The shorter of the two, dark hair that waved over his shoulders, wore the hunting tartan of the clan Stewart. Though to call him short was a grave misconception and relative only to the other. In reality, the Stewart man stood quite tall and slender.

  As they both stopped in unison, Stewart spoke.

  "I amna sure," he said as if the other had spoken, but he had not.

  And what can I say about the other man? He was huge, not just in height but with an overly muscular build, scraggly red hair that touched his broad shoulders, piercing blue eyes, and attired in MacGregor tartan, but he spoke not one word. As Stewart spoke MacGregor nodded once in awhile, but said nothing.

  Stewart cocked his head like a curious puppy. The other looked at him enigmatically. Stewart shook his head as if in answer to a question never asked. Both began then to search the trees and brush.

  I played with my thoughts, wondering if I should make my presence known. In the end curiosity won over caution. I stepped from the shadows, allowing the silver moon to embrace my presence.

  Both men stopped quickly about 100 yards from where I stood, scanning my attire, the long dress loose at the wrists and waist, that swept the forest floor. I admit I had not kept up on my appearance and my hair hung in loose tangles to the ground as well.

  Perhaps, I thought, they had come to see if the Ghost Witch of Paisley Wood existed, or remained myth. It was the Stewart who spoke.

  "Ye're no ghost, nor witch. Are ye vampyre?"

  Bold. I was impressed. Should I tell him the truth or a lie? For lies had become my usual topic as of late. But, I could certainly see and smell by now, he was indeed a child created to be a blood drinker—a vampyre.

  "No," I said simply and honestly. "I am no vampyre. Not as you are." Both tilted their heads in inquisition. So I explained. "I am a child of the Pet Mer, the original race. Those who came here first, thousands of years ago. My mother was human."

  Stewart acknowledged, glanced to MacGregor, who nodded in turn. A silent language between them. I was intrigued, fascinated, excited.

  I needed to know so much more. And so I took a chance. "Would the two of you wish to come in? My cabin is close by."

  With their nod, I led them to my home, the first time I had had wanted company inside in over 200 years.

  I motioned for them to be seated by the fireplace. Stewart took the chair where I had sat only moments before with my book. But MacGregor, who stood slightly hunched, for his height was too much for my small cottage, chose a sturdy solid oak chair from the kitchen area, which was rarely used.

  I sat in the wicker chair by the fireplace, opposite Stewart. First order of business—names.

  The Stewart introduced himself as Wolfe Amus MacDonald Stewart. And then he nodded to the big man. "Fergus MacGregor."

  "Wolfe," I said. "Quite a unique name. Not Scottish."

  "Nae," he replied easily. "Me mum, she sed the wolves hooled loudly the nicht o' ma beerth."

  I admit his accent tripped me up a bit, for it was quite strong. A child of a Highland upbringing for sure, though whereabouts was not clear to me. My confusion must have registered in my expression. Wolfe's next words were a bit more discernible.

  "Ye're no from Scotland," he said. "Ye said ye're a child o' the originals?"

  I nodded. But I had not invited them in to discuss my lineage. I decided the best approach would be a straight one. "Your friend, Fergus?" Wolfe nodded and I continued. "Is he a mute? I have never met a mute vampyre."

  And that was where Yin's whereabouts came upon me so long after I had last seen him.

  As Wolfe spoke, I listened intently. "Fergus was a victim of a cruel experiment."

  "Please," I nearly begged. "Tell me of this experiment. Who conducted it, do you know?" I was sure excitement was apparent in my voice.

  Wolfe glanced to Fergus before looking back to me with a grave expression. "We are neither o' us sure the name o' the man who did this. As Fergus describes the incident, he ran from the English soldiers that night. They had massacred many in his family. He was able to get away due to his size. But another monster, more formidable than the English, or those against the Jacobites, could ever be..." Wolfe glanced to Fergus then and I saw a single tear drip from the larger man's eye. "He was captured by a man more powerful."

  My curiosity got the best of me. "What did he look like?" I asked.

  Once again, Wolfe glanced at Fergus and an unspoken language passed between the two men. Wolfe nodded and turned back to me. "He was an Asian man—"

  My gasp interrupted the conversation. I stood quickly and moved to Fergus. His blue eyes grew wide and he stared at me as if I would eat him. I felt Wolfe readying to leap from his chair. I raised a hand and halted his progression.

  "Fergus," I said. "Was this man's name Yin?"

  Slowly, Fergus's massive head nodded, wavy red hair bobbing with the motion.

  Before I knew I had moved, I was back sunk within my chair by a dying fire.

  A few silent moments passed before Wolfe finally addressed this rather odd exchange. "You know this man, the one who tortured Fergus?"

  Tortured. Yes. Yin had tortured my beloved Lihua as well. This was what he did—find a vampyre who fit his needs, torture and kill them. But Fergus had lived. I decided to explain everything about Yin to Wolfe and Fergus. They needed to know.

  I began from the day I had met Yin, a Half-Bred child just as myself, and felt I had finally found someone with which I could spend an eternity of happiness. Until I discovered his torturous schemes.

  I continued to explicate on the times we spent in China, Lihua and our travels, avoiding Yin and then eventually to Lihua's death at his hands, his plan to find a 'cure' as well as the torturous methods he used in the name of 'advanced medicine.'

  "This is the man, I am sure o' it," said Wolfe. "Fergus was running, in hiding, after the massacre at Culloden where many of our own families were killed. We are both of MacDonald blood, ye ken. I was captured by a vampyre of Campbell blood, altered, turned to vampyre in revenge. Fergus, however, was captured by your Yin fella. He was altered in attempt to find this 'cure' ye speak of—instead it rendered 'im mute. But I can hear 'im. I'm the only one can hear 'im, and we dinna ken why."

  For what seemed a lifetime, I sat in awe as well as disgust. What I was hearing, what I had discovered here. Yin lived, he continued on with his experiments and he was still harming others. Why, I wondered, why did this beast have the power to create children of his own, only to torture them, when I could not? At that moment, life seemed more unfair than it ever had in my lengthy existence.

  If I didn't want to revenge the wrongs of Yin's tortures before, I certainly did now! This menace did not deserve the gift life offered. He would continue his tortures, the same ones he had rendered on my Lihua, until he had succeeded or was stopped.

  It became clear to me on that night that his 'cure' was not moving along as he planned. He failed time and again, leaving behind a wake of bodies and disabled. This Fergus was now mute, unable to be who he once was, due to Yin and his quest to find an end to what I saw as a gift.

  ~~~

  "France's Children"

  The following entries are dated and marked with the name of Kesi Akhede. This is the name historians have found consistent throughout these entries. The following entries were located during early excavation of the French catacombs in the 19th century, preserved and finally dated and translated in the late 20th century. Ea
ch entry was written on parchment and carefully sealed to prevent moisture and decay.

  Journal of Kesi Akhede

  France, 1790

  The time has come to start a family of my own. This fact has been clear, the need vibrant and alive within me ever since the night I met Wolfe Stewart and Fergus MacGregor in Scotland near almost a century ago now. I have penned few documents to attest to my whereabouts, for I have been on a diligent quest to locate Yin, with no luck thus far.

  I cannot believe I have made my way back to France after so much time has passed. Particularly in the midst of a Revolution. However, I have seen many wars and through them learned to avoid their chaos or use it to my advantage. Though I cannot say the same is true for every human and vampyre I have met.

  I heard of the American Revolution and changes to the American colonies since my visit there in the 15th century. Back in that day, the noble warriors who occupied the lands have been beaten down in a most slanted manner. Such a noble race of peoples I found amongst those now referred to as 'Indians.' I personally prefer to view them as native to the colonies. They are no more 'Indian' than myself. I am Egyptian. Those born to the continent of India are the true Indians.

  But I digress.

  When I returned to France a year ago, I followed clues of an 'Asian man of great power, whose mind had turned sour with the greed of finding a cure to an obscure disease.' This, I am sure is Yin. So, from rumor, I have concluded that he has gone quite mad in his search for a non-existent 'cure.' Why, then does he insist on causing suffering and pain wherever he travels?

  I feel I am closing in on him at last. But, a detour in my quest has arisen. However, there is strength in numbers. If only I can build a family, as has been my wish for many thousands of years, we will have numbers against Yin. We shall be strong. And we shall remove him of this planet and put a stop to his torturous endeavour.