Resurrected (2 page)

“I had to leave, you know
that. However, we shouldn't have parted after such an argument. The
past is the past. I was no good for you at that time. I was harmful
to you and to everyone. I had to leave so I could sort things out.
I had to find my strength of will and mind.” I put my hand under
her chin and guided her to look at me.

“Sometimes with deep rooted
love and affection it can feel like one is being pulled in the
wrong direction. I needed space. I tried to explain it to you, but
I knew you couldn’t understand and I decided it would be easier to
sever all ties.”

“Yes, I see… Well, I have
waited for you to return with as much patience as I am capable of
and I am glad you are back.” Brenna paused for a moment and reached
out for my shoulder. “I’m sorry for what you went through. I hope
you can forgive me for my anger.”

“Forgiven and forgotten, my
love.” Smiling at her, I placed my hand over hers and squeezed
gently. “So, where is everyone?” I asked changing the subject. I
was excited to see the rest of my family.

“Mylana is hunting. She
said she wouldn't be long. Lacroix and Eme are in the library.”
Brenna was becoming more like her old self. Without further delay,
I turned and summoned Elijah and Stone to come into the house. I
could feel we were becoming a family again. My heart filled with a
joy it hadn't felt in a long time. I had forgotten how much I loved
this old mansion and the wonderful memories it conjured for
me.

Entering the library the
smell of leather, paper and smoke wafted past me. A couple of desk
lamps illuminated the room; otherwise the library was rather dim.
The ten-foot high walls were covered with mahogany shelving that
was filled to the brim with various books. Placed amongst the
shelving were a couple of bay windows with deep cushioned benches.
All but one wall was covered in shelving. That was where the grand
marble fireplace sat. Ornate filigree scrolls were carved into the
upper part of the mantle while smooth cylindrical columns flanked
the large firebox. A simple iron screen sat on the hearth and cast
unusual shadows in the room.

The fire crackled and
popped; the dry heat it created was luxurious. I spotted Lacroix
sitting by the fireplace warming himself with the dancing flames.
The light from the fire cast shadows on his face, which was
partially covered by yesterday’s paper. Lacroix looked up from his
reading and smiled. His fangs gleamed in the firelight. Ah, how
gorgeous he was–and he knew it!

“Ma
chérie
, Deirdra,” he said while
putting the newspaper down, “you’re finally home.” Lacroix nodded
to Elijah, “Friends, come in.” Lacroix greeted
us.

Entering
the room I noticed Eme sitting by the far window, gazing out at the
night sky. She turned and looked in our general direction, but did
not say or do anything. Her eyes were empty, as if her soul had
been drained from her. To see her like that caused me to shiver
with fear. She turned away from us to look through the window.
Her
behaviour
was
unsettling.

Lacroix's voice pulled my
attention back to him, “…we should head to the living room to be
comfortable. Shall we?”

“Oh, yes.” I answered
without delay. I wondered if Eme would come, but part of me wanted
her to stay where she was. I didn’t need her to evoke in me all the
fears that I had finally overcome. We followed Lacroix as he exited
the library. It was at this point I realized that Stone had left
us.

As we passed by the foyer
Mylana came bursting through the door, snow and wind trailing
behind her. She shook her long mane of curly red hair, causing the
snow to fall from her locks. When she looked up, her face lit
up.

“Deirdra!” she cried out, running over to me and wrapping me
in her arms. “Ah, it is so good to see you.” Mylana's face
was
coloured
pink both from feeding and
from the cold wind. She was radiant.

“Mylana, you look well!” I
said as we released our embrace. Her eyes shone a vibrant
green.

“Merci
, so do
you,” Mylana said, slipping off her long, hooded black coat. She
went to hang it then removed her wet boots.

That night as we sat by the
fireplace in the living room talking and laughing, I felt a warmth
that made me smile. Just being there and listening to everyone
catch up completed my first night back. I felt I could actually
call Chantonnay home again. I experienced no fear, only the
strength gathered from those around me. But soon the conversation
went in a direction I wished it hadn't. Eme became the
topic.

“She has been acting in a
bizarre manner for some time now,” Lacroix began, shifting in his
chair. “I cannot figure it out.”

“Elijah, you haven't
experienced any waking dreams or visions have you, since you are
the only other ancient?” Lacroix asked, taking over the situation
and trying to understand.

Elijah shook his head, “No,
I haven't.” He paused. “Maybe I should spend some time with Eme. I
hope she isn't afflicted with waking dreams. They are too horrid
for anyone.” Elijah lowered his head. I knew he still felt shame
from his lack of strength against the Blood God–his sire–four years
ago when Elijah had become incapacitated by him.

Elijah stood slowly. “I
will go to her now. Goodnight all,” he said. His shoulders sloped
with the weight of concern as he left the room.

“Do you think after having
lived for so long, Eme is finally ready to die?” a small, quiet
voice asked. Everyone turned in the general direction of the
voice–it was Brenna.

As I laid my eyes upon her,
I knew she had waited to ask her question until Elijah left the
room. But no one answered. I had heard of that before. When a
vampire felt they have lived long enough and did not want to go on
with their preternatural life, they’d find a way to end it. Not
unlike an elderly human who is ready to die, so that they might be
with their mate for all eternity in heaven. But in our case, who
knows what awaits us? A wonderful life in hell with those we love
so dearly?

“No one
would wish upon themselves an early death!” Lacroix finally said,
breaking the silence. In his mind, killing one’s self clearly could
not be an option for anyone. Ultimately, the choice we made in the
long run was to live. To live until there is no more living to do.
I began to wonder though, how would we know when there is no more
living to be done? We can live our lives but be dead inside. Are we
supposed to be our own judge of when we should die? Be our own god
and decide when our time is up? A shiver ran through my body. I was
thinking about this too much. I was beginning to frighten myself.
Mylana knew of one of our kind who had killed himself with the rays
of the morning light. He had decided that he was ready to meet
whatever awaited him. Maybe we
are
the ones who ultimately decide.

The crash of a door from
the second floor shook us from our morbid thoughts. Eme flew down
the stairwell with Elijah close behind. She ran through the foyer
and into the cold winter night with nothing but the clothes on her
back.

“Eme!” Elijah called out.
He stopped at the door, going no further. He knew he should just
let her go, as much as he hated to. Elijah returned, his eyes
rimmed with red and his face solemn. I could tell he had been
weeping. I hated to see him like this. He looked up from the floor
to meet our confused stares and began to speak.

“She...” Elijah began with
trepidation, “she thinks she is ill. Eme feels hunger unlike
anything she has ever felt." Before anyone could respond he turned
and left the room leaving us in an uncomfortable silence. Not
knowing what to say or how to interpret what had just happened,
everyone separated and headed to their rooms.

I followed Mylana to her
bedroom. Away from everyone I felt a little more at ease. In
Mylana’s company I had a sense of security. A silly notion really,
but nonetheless very much needed. Elijah’s concern for Eme was
already starting to consume him and I knew even if I were with him,
he wouldn’t be there mentally, only physically.

“We must continue with our
nightly routines and not let this distract us,” Mylana said,
turning to face me. Her features softened, “You fear too much,
Deirdra.” She caressed my hair, brushing it out of my
eyes.

“Everything will be fine.
It is probably just her age affecting her. Things will fix
themselves. Okay?” Mylana gave me a warm smile and a soft kiss on
the forehead.

“Alright,” I agreed and she
hugged me. "I have missed you, you and your wisdom!" I pulled back
so I could look at her.

“As have
I,
chérie
.”

I walked
into the room, the gentle scent of jasmine lingered in the air.
Walking past the love seat and pairing of Queen Anne chairs in the
seating area of her suite, I entered into her sleeping quarters
through the French doors. Nothing had changed since the last time I
had been there. The same perfumes, powders and creams cluttered the
top of the dresser. The bed was covered in deep red silk which
reminded me of blood. Thick velvet curtains of the same
colour
hung to shield her from the sun. Creatures of
habit we are; once accustomed to something, we hardly ever change
it. The room was cluttered with candelabras, oil lamps and sconces
hung on the wall, none of which were lit. The soft glow that
illuminated the room emanated from a small bedside lamp, producing
a warm, cozy feeling.

The desire to be in my bath
washed over me. I felt I needed to be caressed by warm water and
have the wondrous scent of bath crystals waft around me. I wanted
to wrap myself in my sheets and hide from this night. This night
was supposed to be wonderful, but my long-awaited reunion had taken
a turn for the worse.

“Mylana, I think I shall
head off. I am tired.”

“We'll see you tomorrow
night then. I can tell you need the rest. Now go.” Her voice was
gentle and caring. She gave me a slight push and I slowly walked
out.

It had
only been fo
ur years since I was last in my
rooms, but it felt like much longer. Everything was the way it had
been when I left. Similar to Mylana’s room, I made my way through
the seating area where a simple white stone fireplace was the
center of attention. Two wing chairs sat opposite each other in
front of the fire place. This was my favorite place to read.
Passing over the threshold of French doors into my sleeping
quarters, the aroma of roses filled the room. Taking in the
wonderful scent, I smiled. The bouquet was made with blooms that
were an orange and peach blended flower.

The same deep teal
comforter covered the four poster bed. Walking over to it, I
reached out and grazed the folded quilt at the foot of the bed. I
had found it about fifty years before and it reminded me of the one
my mother had made when I was a young girl. Making my way towards
the walk-in closet, I began to undress and tossed my clothes on a
nearby high-backed wooden chair. Slipping on my kimono robe, I made
my way to the bathroom and began to draw a bath.

Stepping into the tub, I
slid deep into the foam created by the bubble bath. I lay in the
tub until the water turned cold. Once in bed, I fell asleep almost
before my head hit the pillow. It was still a while before the sun
was to rise, but I was exhausted. I had been able to relax and calm
down and I didn’t want to stay awake and taunt my mind with
unpleasant thoughts.

I had not expected Elijah
to join me that morning, but he did. As the sun was rising he
climbed into bed beside me and held me close. I didn’t know where
he had gone that night, but I was grateful to not be sleeping
alone.

The next several nights
everything was as it should have been–except that Eme never
returned to Chantonnay. No one, not even Elijah, knew where she had
gone. Elijah was a wreck. He was oblivious to everything around
him. He was trapped in his fear of losing Eme. Something must have
transpired between the two of them to agitate Elijah so much and to
cause Eme to run off. But I promised myself that I would not get
unnerved or worry too much. I could not let Elijah affect my
emotions or thoughts, or I'd become a mess. It would do no good, of
that I was certain.

Time seemed to pass so
slow, it was painful. It felt like we were just going through the
motions, as though we were unable to wake from a dreadful dream. I
found it utterly annoying. Things had gone from perfect to horrible
in just a few short weeks. Before we had noticed, November had come
and gone and Eme was still nowhere to be found. I could tell that
Lacroix was glad that she had disappeared. To see Eme in such a
state frightened him more than he would have ever admitted. I knew
it brought back memories of our experiences with the Blood God for
everyone, not only me. And I feared it had something to do with him
again. Who else had such power over other vampires? The whole thing
frustrated and frightened me. I didn’t know whether to stay and try
to figure it out or to run for my life.

In an attempt to save what
sanity I had left, I decided to head out for a few hours. I
couldn’t stay around Chantonnay and let my fear drive me into a
dark corner. I would feed then let my mind escape into a world that
I would never truly understand. I would watch as mortals passed by
me in their hurried states with shopping bags in one hand and cell
phones in the other.

My thirst
quenched and my mind eased somewhat, I found myself wandering
through
Old Montreal
, passing under black lantern-styled street lamps that caused
the snow to glisten. A brave soul sat in the lee of a building,
hoping to sell his etchings and
watercolours
to
the winter tourists. He looked up at me hopefully, then quickly
returned to watching the cars purr past on the narrow cobblestone
street.

Further
along, a woman cursed to herself as she struggled to prod the
built-up snow off of the small Parisian awnings over the entrance
to her
boutique hotel
. Across the way, a student squealed as a towering pile of
snow fell from one of the many
casement
windows
above, erupting into a cloud of
powder at his feet. Ah, the joys of winter in
Quebec.

I'd often find myself drawn
to these streets when meandering around with no particular goal in
mind. The eighteenth and nineteenth century architecture was a
welcome respite from the gleaming glass and modern lines of
Downtown. Reigning over it all, like a Gothic queen, stood
Notre-Dame Basilica and her dramatic towers. I loved having this
little taste of the Old World–of home–right at my
doorstep.

The sensation I had been
feeling earlier I chalked up to my hunger getting the better of me.
But it had now been appeased and the sensation changed. Walking
down the snow covered sidewalks, I felt as though I was being
followed. Periodically I paused to look behind me, only to see
people rushing about carrying their recent purchases.

After
some time, I realized that the feeling of being followed was not in
the sense that a
real
being was behind me. It was as if through all the people I
passed, something was tracking me, watching me through
their
eyes. The feeling
grew. The more uncomfortable I became, the more I began to fear
everyone around me.

It was then that I noticed
at times, a human would look at me for longer then usual. Through
each person I passed, his mind entered theirs and then left as
quickly as a thought. His presence was too fleeting for me to even
get a general direction, to assess whether he was five or fifty
feet away. I had no way of tracing this wandering being. As soon as
a cab came cruising by, I hailed it and hopped in, heading for the
safety of Chantonnay.

“Are you alright there
Miss?” the cabby asked, his concern sounding genuine. "You look as
though you just seen a ghost or something."

“I’m fine,” I replied
quickly and coldly. I just wanted to be home. Never before had I
ever feared mortals the way I did in those few moments.