The Vampire’s Song“You’re lonely, “ the figure said. Its breath caressed the side of my face. “You need a companion, someone to talk to.” I bristled with rage as the figure’s pale hand brushed my ear, pulling my raven hair behind it. “We will give you one, Stefan.
“Go.” The word sent me spiraling upwards, to a familiar darkness. The force slammed me into it-
-And I woke, doubling over, coughing blood into my sheets. My pale cheek had a highlight of an insipid crimson, the usual flush. I curled into a ball, coughing blood still, my eyes tearing with the effort to breathe between the coughs.
A lantern was turned up, and my faithful servant Natalie put a cool cloth to my forehead, hush-hushing me.
“It’s okay, Master, you’ll be alright. The doctor says you’ll be alright,” she repeated what I had been told earlier by Dr. Madison.
“No,” I said, hugging the bloodstained sheets to my pale chest. “The doctor’s wrong, I won’t.” I was trying to speak, but it was a strangled whisper. The fevers and hacking coughs had all but destroyed my throat. Once I had possessed a beautiful, lulling voice, but now it was but a horrid rasp, thus I could no longer sing for anyone.
I was graced with no more sleep that night.
The sun rose slowly, illuminating my bedroom little by little. I stared across the room at the door of my wardrobe, the sunlight creeping inch-by-inch over my ivory back.
I was surprised to see that a part of the window was blocked by a humanoid figure, shadowing the wardrobe.
I turned to lie upon my back and looked towards it, wishing I still slept. But the figure, to my despair, was real.
His head was slightly cocked to the left, looking at me. His skin was pale ivory in colour, and the sunlight filtered through his light blonde hair to give him an angelic look.
His eyes told me he was no angel, though: they were pale green in colour, similar to mine, though his were shot with gold.
I stared back at him, astonished.
“Who are you?” I croaked. “What are you doing here?”
“Prayers to the damned are rarely answered, Stefan. You are lucky.”
“My daughter is not damned,” I snarled hoarsely.
He was suddenly standing by my bedside, leaning over me, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke:
“No, she wasn’t. Now, she is.” And he was gone.
I lay astonished for a moment. Why had he brought up Celeste? Why was she damned?
He threatened her. This was not acceptable.
I rose from my bed and dressed quickly. I would ride to Celeste’s convent and protect her myself. She was my flesh and blood, the light of my world in my illness.
Faithful Natalie insisted I bring food- the ride is a day long in these late October storms! – And begged me not to go. I was too sick, she said, not strong enough. Finally I spun upon her and snarled as best I could:
“Silence, girl. If your only child was endangered, you would do what I am.” She gave me no more argument.
Sayl, my dappled thoroughbred stallion, was reigned and ready for our journey. Down the narrow road we rode, the already leafless trees forming a clawed roof above our heads against the gray sky.
I did not stop for a meal- the thoughts of my only child filled my mind, driving me onward.
Out of nowhere, a bear appeared- it frothed at the mouth, the sign of rabies. It attacked Sayl’s right foreleg, snapping it off, bringing both of us down. My leg was crushed beneath my stallion’s weight, and my face was slashed from the edge of my right eyebrow to my mouth.
The bear’s heavy paw descended upon my right shoulder, and I crawled from beneath my horse with one arm.
I struggled on, the bear more interested in my fighting stallion than me. I limped heavily, much frightened.
Darkness crept around me, and I hungered for the meat in the saddlebag and thirsted for the white wine with it. But it was too late now; I had trudged at least two miles and would not be able to return to my dead steed.
Something whisked by me, and I could see someone sitting, one leg extended in front of him, the other bent at the knee, his elbow resting on it. By the dying light I could see his blonde hair.
“So you’ve made it this far, but you shan’t go farther,” he said. It appeared to be my visitor.
“Who are you? How dare you threaten Celeste?” I cringed as I spoke. He stood suddenly, and was beside me.
“I am death,” he whispered. “And so you shall be, too. One of few day walking strega.” He used the Slavic word for it, but I had heard the term before in my travels. He was a day walker vampire.
“No,” I cried hoarsely, stumbling back. I lost my balance on my injured leg, and fell, jarring my crushed shoulder. “Please- no-“
“Yes, Stefan,” he replied, advancing. “You cannot deny it. Some are meant to receive the gift. You are one of them.” He bent over me now, again.
“Please don’t,” I whispered, tears in my eyes. I did not want this!
“You are injured, Stefan.” He loved my name. “If I leave you, you shall die anyway. Do you want to die?” He almost shouted it. “Do you?”
“No! I want- Celeste- to leave her-“
“She was bait, don’t you see? Convenient bait. She does look like her mother, though-“
“You killed her! You killed my wife!” He paused.
“Yes, I did. Simple, Beautiful Morgan. She was lucky to have you while she did, you know- she had consumption, if you hadn’t known.”
I was silent for a moment. My beautiful Morgan had hidden her handkerchiefs from me the months before she died.
“You saved her from a horrible death, then,” I said quietly.
“I did. And I desire to give you more of a life than you possess, save you from a similarly horrid death.”
The darkness was complete- there were no stars, no moon. I could not see him any longer, just feel his breath and hear his words.
I closed my eyes as I felt the swoon of blood loss, shutting out the world. He and I and the night were one, breathing simultaneously, and then even my vision failed.
He cradled my upper body in his arms, my left hand vainly clutching his silken shirt.
His blood, salty and warm, filled my mouth, once again giving the sanguine ecstasy. Again we breathed as one.
He released me finally, both gasping. I opened my eyes, and the night was made clear. I could see everything as if it was daylight, and it was all so beautiful. Human eyes could not see the delicate patterns of the trees’ bark or the fluidness of the clouds.
The vampire laughed softly, a beautiful, fluid sound.
“Sing for us, Stefan,” he said.
I sang.
