"I, Vampyre" - Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO: Nocturne

 

About an hour later, though it was still a few hours before dawn, we were both nestled snugly within Spike’s posh, impregnable, carbon-fiber-composite coffin.  Both of us were exhausted from the exertions of ‘capturing’ Bellissima -- the magic-ball now rested in the middle of a small table, casting a ruddy glow about the crypt -- and we were more than ready for our recuperative death-sleep.

I touched a finger to my cheek.  Spike had washed it clean with a liberal amount of unholy water… which had hurt like a son-of-a-b***h, but it was less likely to scar now.  I rolled over to wish her a “good morning” (with the usual dash of vampy irony, our circadian rhythms eternally inverted), but I could tell that she was already asleep.

I managed to suppress a strong urge to ‘spoon’ with Spike… to run my fingers through her hair, which flowed across the pillows like liquid moonlight… and, if she were to wake up, who knows what else?  I felt like I was being watched, judged.  The softly-glowing orb on the nearby table called to mind one of Tolkien’s palantirs; I wouldn’t have been too terribly shocked to have seen the burning Eye of Bellissima open, glaring hotly at the intruder in her bed.

Instead, I rolled away from the snoozing sorceress… facing the opposite side of the coffin, with the ever-swirling red mist peeking over its edge, close yet so distant.  My own thoughts of Belli weighed me down, dragging me quickly into my own deep sleep -- a place where dreams and memories mix and mingle as they see fit.

It was almost like an out-of-body experience… I was Bellissima, I was myself, I was no one at all… a dreamy memory from nearly seventy years ago.

Did I have a dream?  Or did the dream have me??

 

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Why was it always a struggle… a conflict… a confrontation, a battle… why this infernal, eternal Vampire War?  Why now, why here??

And why was it… she wouldn’t have it any other way?

Bellissima fought the good fight, longsword in one hand, her silver dagger in the other; she was a maelstrom of death, a whirling dervish of destruction.  She grinned as she cut another enemy down, slicing the tenuous thread that bound him to this world like a vengeful Fury… but this fight was not going well.  She looked desperately to either side as she saw two of her clan-mates die their ‘second death’ as well.

Her remaining Kindred allies were now outmatched, so they hastily beat a strategic retreat.  But a turn down a shadowy alley turned out to be a dead-end.  The rival clan approached, hissing and grinning, with strength in numbers… but, mayhap, a deficiency in skill and cunning.

Their enemies -- a dozen or so riled-up vamps -- surrounded them, and Bellissima abruptly realized that ‘them’ constituted a grand total of two.  Her ally had his back to her, and as the encroaching circle of undead adversaries tightened, soon their backs were pressed against each other.  She felt a strangely pleasant tension, as a twinge of familiarity coursed through her.

“So.  You again?” she asked, in a calm, conversational tone… ironic, given the dire predicament.

“Hello, Bellissima,” he replied, taking a swipe at one of their foes with a wickedly-sharp claw.

She parried a pitiful thrust of a pike, pulling its wielder toward her... and relieving his throat of the burden of holding back a fountain of blood.  “That doesn’t really seem fair, my friend…”

“What’s that?” he asked, looking back at her briefly.  She caught a glimpse of his blue-tourmaline-colored eyes, peering at her from beneath unkempt black hair with a garish shock of red.

“That you know my name, while I don’t yet know yours…”   Bellissima saw one of their enemies lunging at her clan-mate’s blind-side.  She deftly ducked under his arm, and a rising slash with her sword resulted in two severed hands and one less problem.  A moment later, her ‘friend’ spun and raked a claw just over her head -- which connected with another attacking vamp, helpfully spiriting him away into the next world.

“Of course I know your name,” he said, “your skill with a blade is whispered on the wind, in awe…” -- he glared fiercely at the diminished circle of vamps, who suddenly seemed less eager to press the attack -- “…and fear…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bellissima professed innocently.  Undermining her own mock-protest, she threw her dagger, which happily buried itself to the hilt in the now-unbeating heart of a now-dead vampire.  She then disappeared in a swirl of reddish mist… only to coalesce a moment later behind a trio of the now-panicked vamps.  They turned just in time for the flash of her longsword to be the last thing they ever saw.

The remaining few ran/misted/flew off, screaming.  Bellissima grinned as she reclaimed her dagger, and she threw her luxurious hair back over her shoulder in an affectation of vampiric Glamour that would have brought a mortal man to his knees, weeping.  The gesture brought about an appreciative smirk from her fellow survivor.

“The name’s Nevik,” he (I!) offered, still smiling.  “Nevik Roc…”

“Well, hello again Nevik, Nevik Roc,” she teased, with an affectionate wink.  “My friends call me Belli.”  She ripped a scrap of clothing from one of the vanquished vampires at her feet, and used it to clean off her blades.  “I haven’t seen you in a while,” she continued.  “Thank you… for last time.”

“You’re welcome…”   Nevik’s smile broadened, as he recalled their previous encounter: an ancient chest, a valuable treasure… what could have been their first sharing of blood, interrupted by a gang of feral Nosferatu… another fight, a frantic flight… and a promise.

“‘We’ll meet again,’ indeed,” Bellissima mused.  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were stalking me.”  The glint in her eyes was playful -- but sharpened slightly by the cold instinct of an assassin.

Nevik cleared his throat, and, choosing to ignore that mild accusation, he gestured toward her gleaming silver dagger.  “Your weapon… it’s exquisite.”   The iterant reflections of light from the blade as Bellissima twisted it dappled the burning blue of his (my!) appreciative, borderline covetous gaze.  “Perfectly balanced, amazingly sharp, impossibly pure… where did you get it?”

Bellissima looked down at the dagger herself, her mind wading tentatively into a deep, dark pool of memory.  “It belonged to my Sire,” she said in a hushed, reverent tone.  “He gave it to me as a gift…”   Nevik waited for more… but there was no more to come, as Belli retreated from those waters, wary of the forgotten pain that hid in their murky depths.

Instead, she swiftly sheathed her weapons, and hugged her arms across her body.  “We should… attend to our dead,” she suggested, somberly.  Nevik nodded in agreement, and they set themselves to that grim task.

About an hour later, Bellissima and Nevik had erected a makeshift funeral pyre for their fallen Kindred.  This served two purposes -- as a show of respect, to friend and foe alike, and to wipe away the evidence of their recent battle.  The Vampire War was escalating, more and more every night, it seemed… but it still behooved them (us!) to keep it hidden from the oblivious humans, whenever they could.

“I almost feel like one of us should say something,” Bellissima whispered, looking sadly at the pyre.

“Rest in peace…” Nevik said, simply, and jerked his right hand suddenly, almost as if cracking an invisible whip.  A modest feat of pyrokinesis -- a small jet of flame left his outstretched hand and quickly set the pyre ablaze.

Bellissima stepped back, away from the roaring, hungry flames; Nevik put his arms around her, consolingly.  She glanced up at his placid face… and felt a sudden shiver, which chilled her to her core.  His eyes were very wide as he stared at the flickering fire, and the conflagration imparted a sinister-looking yellow-red to his gaze. Belli looked away quickly, but her unease faded away as she melted deeper into his gentle, comforting embrace.  She wasn’t even quite sure why, but she trusted him… maybe she just needed to trust someone…

“I loved him…” she declared, surprised at herself as the words flew from her mouth, like moths to the flame.

“Who?” Nevik asked, quietly… but he knew…

“My Sire… …I was just a girl…”  The tale came quickly now… she couldn’t stop now, even if she wanted to.  “And, yet… not just a girl…

“I was always different… talented, if you want to call it that.  I had a skill with tools and weapons that I couldn’t explain.  My father used to say that I turned the chopping of wood or the simple filleting of a fish into an art form…

“I first met him one fateful autumn, not that long ago… my family had a cottage in the mountains, far from here.  I was taking a walk, along the river, after dark… enjoying the evening air, the sounds, the smells -- the sights, bathed in the glow of a full moon.  Even then, still human, I was a creature of the night…

“He was so dark and handsome.”  A smile brightened her face.  “I suppose I should’ve been scared, but I wasn’t.  And he didn’t Glamour me… he didn’t have to. That first night, we just talked… talked and talked, about nothing, about everything, all night long.  I fell asleep, on a bed of leaves… and when I awoke, come dawn… he was gone, of course…

“I saw him again a month later, in the very same spot, by the river, under another full moon.  And he… he showed me what he was.  Again, I wasn’t afraid.  It seemed like he showed me the entire world that night.  And oh, how I missed him when he left me, again…”

Bellissima laughed softly.  “The last month of that fall couldn’t go by quickly enough!  When the night of the next full moon came, I crept out of the cottage and ran as fast as I could to the river.  But he wasn’t there… I wept and wailed, cursed his name.  As I turned to leave, he was behind me… he kissed me, bit me… turned me… he didn’t ask me if I wanted it… he didn’t have to.”

Belli paused, still staring at the burning funeral pyre.  The fire was already starting to die out, but those beckoning fingers of flame coaxed the last of the story from her…

“I went away with him.  I knew that, one way or the other, I couldn’t return to my old life.  I had already left a note to my family -- saying that I had run away, never to come back…

“We went to his home, a beautiful old castle in the mountains.  He was truly my dark prince…”  Nevik twitched slightly behind her, suddenly troubled, sensing the portent in her choice of words.  “He taught me… trained me… helped me to reach my full potential… or, at least, started to…

“And he loved me back… and we were happy, for a time.”  She paused again. “His name was Darius.”

Nevik felt a sympathetic sadness wash over him.  “Was…?”

“He… he died.”

Bellissima and Nevik watched the last of the pyre burn away to nothingness, a pile of dust and ash that quickly blew away on the moaning night wind.  Nevik waited again, but quickly realized that Belli would say no more.  The heartache of her tale filled him with wild emotion, and presently he became very aware of her lithe form, pressed against him.

The ancient Hunger stirred in him, like an uncoiling serpent, a burning bloodlust… Belli must have sensed it, but she didn’t shrink away.  Instead, she slowly brushed her long, beautiful hair away from her slender neck.  He lowered his mouth to her shoulder, taking in her deliciously fragrant scent, his fangs dimpling her pale skin…

But… he only gave her a soft, loving kiss on the neck, before pulling away.  She turned to face him, a look of bewilderment on her face.  “What’s wrong?” she inquired.

“Nothing, my dear Bellissima.  It just doesn’t feel right… not after everything you’ve told me.”  He brushed a stray strand of hair over her ear.  “And, even though you’ve known such sadness, I envy you.  I can’t really remember anything from… before…”

Bellissima frowned at that.  She’d never heard of such a thing.  She opened her mouth to say something to that effect, but Nevik cut her off.

“I have to go… the night is waning fast, and I have… things… to…”

This time, she cut off his flustered stammering.  “No, it’s not.  It’s barely midnight.  Won’t you… stay with me for a while?”

“I can’t,” Nevik protested, weakly.  “You see… my Sire…”  He seemed almost embarrassed to continue: “I still serve him… and he summons me…”

Bellissima crossed her arms indignantly.  “I see.  Is he… nice?”

A harsh cackle of humorless laughter escaped from Nevik.  “Nice!?  Ah… I’m afraid that’s not a word I would use to describe him, my dear… but, truly, I must go now… I’m sorry.”  He gave her a sincerely apologetic look.  “Farewell, Bellissima…”

Impulsively, she wrapped him up in a fierce embrace.  “I told you, my friends call me Belli.”  She put her cheek against his, her lips brushing his ear.  “You can call me Belli…”

Then her hug collapsed, as she realized she was holding nothing but rapidly-dissipating black mist.  She sighed, and then stared up at the bright, full, red-tinged Hunter’s Moon overhead.  It shone fondly on her, for she was the Huntress, the Mist Tamer, and she belonged to the night… as much as it, in turn, belonged to her…

And then… through my mind’s-eye, though my dream-self had departed (no matter how much I wanted him/me to stay… this was, after all, a vision of an immutable past), I saw Bellissima press her palms against something unseen.  It was just above her, invisible yet tangible, as if she were enclosed in a dome of transparent glass.

She tapped the tip of her dagger against the barrier, and… although her prison seemed unaffected, there was a horrible sound, an echoing ‘thunk’ that seemed to fill the whole world.

Belli looked distressed as she thrust the blade upward again… it stopped abruptly, but another terrible THUNK resonated up to the heavens and back again.  The sky itself seemed to be splitting apart, cracks zigzagging down like black lightning.

             *THUNK*

The memory, the dream, was falling apart… I was waking up…

*THUNK!*

The blood-red moon morphed into an eye… Bellissima’s blazing eye!

*T H U N K!*

“SPIKE… WAKE UP!” I screamed, clawing desperately at the still-sleeping vampiress’s arm.  The Belli-ball had grown in volume a thousand-fold, had rolled off the table, was now pressed firmly to the side of Spike’s coffin… and a now-corporeal Bellissima, crimson eyes afire with bloodlust and hatred, was stabbing her precious dagger repeatedly into its side… *T-H-U-N-K!!*

 

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