Resurrected (31 page)

Once the dark-haired woman
came back, she made her way over to me. Kneeling down she handed me
the clothes she had gone hunting for. Looking up at those that
surrounded me, and then to the redhead, I began to try and stand.
With my feeble attempt at keeping my balance, the dark-haired woman
was at my side and helped me to my feet. Feeling steady enough on
my feet I reached for the clothes offered to me. Suffering from
vertigo, I slowly dressed in the red kangaroo sweater, panties,
faded blue jeans and socks that had been retrieved.

My mind was hazy and I
still felt disoriented, but within all my confusion and fear, I was
overcome with the sensation of familiarity with them. I couldn’t
understand why I could feel safe in their presence. However, I also
felt that none of them were normal or of this world either. I was
utterly confused. I didn’t know what I felt.

Slipping into the clothes I
immediately felt them warm me. Now fully dressed, I crossed my arms
in a way that exuded a protective manner and I began asking the
questions that had been building. I wanted answers, but I also
could not help fear what they had to say.

“Who are you people? How do
you know me? How do I know you?” I asked. Hearing my voice for the
first time aloud, it was raspy and my throat was
parched.

I was
greeted with silence. They looked at each other, puzzled by what I
was asking them. I figured it shouldn’t have been that difficult to
answer but then again, maybe I misinterpreted their gestures and
reactions. Maybe they didn’t know who I was.
I
didn’t know who I was, let alone
where I had been before waking there with them.

It was finally one of the
older-looking men who spoke.

“Many of us have different
pasts with you, some more recent than others but be assured that we
care for you and you are dear to us. Do not fear us,” he said with
a lilt that caused me to smile. His accent, which at that moment I
realized we both shared, was Irish. The longer I looked at him, the
more the nagging feeling of familiarity grew.

“My name is Brian.” He
continued, then pointed to the redhead and waited for her to take
over.

Quickly wiping the red
moisture from her eyes, she cleared her throat before she
began.

“I am
Mylana. We met in Ireland... some time ago. We now live here in
Montreal. Not in this house though. We will take you home as soon
as you are ready.” She said, her voice was soft and tender but it
did not have the accent Brian and I had. If any, her voice seemed
to be
coloured
with a slight French
accent.

“Are we sisters?” I asked,
feeling a strange bond to this woman, but I also felt it with the
dark-haired one as well.

Solemnly, she shook her
head no. “It is too difficult to explain right now.” Turning she
looked to the raven-haired woman and gave her a look as to tell who
she was.

“I’m Brenna. We also met in
Ireland long ago. You saved me from a horrible man and a life that
would have lead to my inevitable death. Although you do not
remember, I hope you will someday soon. I want you to know that I
am very grateful to you and will always love you.” She paused. Her
eyes began to well with tears but not normal tears. They too were
tainted red, which lead me to examine her and Mylana more closely.
They all seemed to possess such fierce eyes and white porcelain
skin.

“Hi, I’m Stone.” I turned
and found myself looking at the young man that had such
seductiveness to him. However, right now he looked awkward and
unsure of what to do or say.

“I work at La Maison
Chantonnay, where you live.” His eyes immediately darted between
Mylana then back to me, and he gave me a weak smile. Head bowed
momentarily, he then sent his gaze over to the last three who had
not been introduced yet. The woman with amazing long curly brown
hair spoke for herself and the other two.

“I am Eme. This is Elijah
and he is Malachi,” she said, her voice exuding authority. She
seemed so strong and in control. As she introduced each man, in
turn they nodded their greeting.

Feeling completely
perplexed, they all seemed familiar to me, and with good reason it
seemed. But the sense of familiarity ended with the one called
Malachi though. There was something about him that made me feel
uncomfortable. My instincts were strong about him and I felt if I
were to be left alone with him, I would not be safe. While with the
others I felt that they were devotedly attached to me.

“Home is La
Maison Chantonnay?
Is it far?” I asked, taking a couple of steps wanting to get
out of this circle that had been formed around me. Before anyone
could answer my question I walked past Mylana and away from the
group. Before anyone could answer my question, my wandering eyes
found the scattered debris of what looked like occult items. While
I visually searched the shadows, I saw a body lying lifeless. A
gasp escaped my lips and my eyes widened in pure
fear.

“Who is… wha—?” I began to
mumble, raising my hand and pointing in the direction of the dead
body. Mylana was by my side in an instant, turning me away from it
and walking me towards the door. Yet as she directed me away, I was
unable to keep myself from looking back at it. And to frighten me
further, the body moved and a sound came from it.

“Never mind it… let’s go
home.” Mylana said, attempting to change the subject. I could tell
she hoped the idea of seeing ‘home’ would intrigue me more than the
corpse that was not so much a corpse.

“Never mind it? I cannot
forget about it!” I said frantically. At the doorway, I came to a
halt, forcing Mylana to stop. Turning, I looked over her shoulder
and at the body. Without any thought, I verbalized what came to
mind.

“Is he nearly dead because
of me?” I looked at Mylana, then to the others. Again all I
received was silence. After a long moment, Malachi was the one to
speak.

“It was a good and fair
trade,” he began, his voice cold. “You will undoubtedly find out
the whole tale sooner rather than later, so don’t worry yourself
over it.” Turning his gaze over to Eme, he then addressed her. “You
all can take Deirdra home. I will stay and take care of the
situation.”

I could see Eme’s
displeasure with what he said. Yet as she was about to tell him
what she thought, Malachi raised his right hand, his palm facing
her, the gesture to keep her quiet–which it did. Then he spoke
again. “I will meet up with you later. I need to make my peace with
him.”

Not understanding what he
meant, as well his odd actions and strong words to Eme, Malachi
made me feel even more uncomfortable in his presence. With a cold
glare, Eme turned away from Malachi. She walked down the hall past
Mylana and I. Mylana put her arm around me and began directing me
out of the basement, the others following behind.

As we all walked down the
darkened hall I was glad Mylana was there to help me, for it was
nearly impossible for me to see what was in front of me. Just
before we began ascending the stairs, a man’s voice rang out. His
voice was piercing. The sound of it jolted me, causing me to
jump.

“I’m not the only
devil!”

All of them stopped. Their
faces were masks, emotionless and cold. If they feared him, they
did not show it. I then heard what sounded like a scuffle and a
muffled cry, but no one moved to see what was happening or help
whoever was on the unfortunate side of the attack. I said nothing
and waited for them to take me home. There was nothing I could do.
I had no strength and it was not my fight–as far as I knew anyhow.
I felt nauseous and the hunger that at first was just a nuisance
was now becoming painful. I just wanted to be somewhere warmer than
this place. Somewhere that was less dank and dreary, and
furthermore not so creepy.

“Let’s go.” Eme said, her
voice exposing her uncertainty.

She was such an oddity to
me. Her actions were so confusing to what could be read in her
voice. One moment strong, the next, doubtful and it seemed to me
that Malachi was at the root of her uncertainty.

With a gentle tug on my
arm, I looked to see Brenna. Eme, Elijah and Stone had made their
way past us and upstairs already. Mylana stood patiently behind me
and Brian behind her, waiting.

Climbing up the stairs, I
tried to prepare myself for what ‘home’ would be. Pulling on a pair
of boots and slipping on a jacket, we headed out the door. I
figured I was as ready as I would ever be.

I rode in the back seat of
a Lexus with Elijah while Mylana drove and Brenna sat in the
passenger seat. The others would drive in the Mustang and meet us
there. As I climbed into the car, I listened as Stone talked
quietly with Brian, trying to reassure him.

“It’ll be fine coming with
us to Chantonnay. You have every right to be there. You should be
there.”

“Fine, but I will not stay
the day. I will head back to the hospital. Chantonnay is not my
home.” Brian said, voicing his apprehension. Then the door was
closed and the car started.

Watching
the scenery pass by, the hum of the car was soothing like a
lullaby. However, in my relaxed state, I replayed their
conversation in my mind and it puzzled me even further. Was he not
part of this twisted little
family
that everyone seemed to pretend they were? If I
hadn’t ached so much, causing my thoughts to now dwell on the pain,
I would have gone mad with confusion.

With hushed voices, mostly
inaudible to me from sitting in the back, Mylana and Brenna
chatted. Brenna’s voice rose with agitation and I distinctly heard
what she had said. I wished I hadn’t, for it unsettled me even
more.

“What are
we going to do with her come dawn? Are we supposed to just tell
her
everything
tonight? She won’t understand, especially now that things are
different.”

“Shh! We will figure it
out. Keep your voice down.” Mylana responded quickly as she caught
the look of fear on my face through the rear-view mirror. For the
rest of the ride, we drove in silence.

Tension lingered in the
air. I did my best to pretend it didn’t exist, but the long drive
eroded my fantasy. Stopped at a red light, I watched a homeless man
who lay covered with a multitude of newspaper sheets. He talked to
his invisible friend–or enemies with much vigor. Focusing on this
spectacle, flash-like images took over my vision.

I saw myself with blood
stained lips standing in that very entrance to that alleyway. I
gasped in pure horror, closed my eyes and shook my head to rid
myself of what I saw.

Feeling a gentle touch on
my shoulder, I opened my eyes. It was Elijah.

“Are you
alright? What’s wrong?” He asked, genuinely concerned. Not wanting
to share what I thought I just saw, I kept it to myself. I did not
want him to think I’d gone mad. Hell, maybe I have always been
mad,
I
just didn’t
know it.

“Nothing… just a headache,”
I fibbed and looked out of the window again when the car began to
roll forward.

Passing by a dance club, I
began to feel that hazy light-headed sensation. With a sudden flash
of memory, I remembered being with a young boy. I remembered
wrapping my arms around him firmly and I cried out as I recalled
biting down violently into his flesh. I was horrified at the
clarity of my memory as I lapped up the pouring blood. It satisfied
me in a way that was wicked. I slammed my eyes shut not wanting to
see these images. What replaced the visual flashbacks were bits of
information that overwhelmed my mind and soul.

I
remembered the sharp tiny fangs. I remembered the unnatural hunger.
I remembered the bloodlust that drove me. In one fell swoop, my
brain was bombarded with memories of feeding, preternatural flesh
and strength, of eras gone and past.
How
could any of it be real
?
There is no way
! Yet deep
in my soul, I knew
it was
true.

“What is it?” Mylana asked,
slowing the car to pull it over.

Shaking and crying, I said
nothing to them. I remembered what I was–what they probably all
were and I thought one word: vampire.

As Elijah
reached out to undoubtedly only console me, I cried out, “Don’t
touch me!” Obeying my orders, he pulled back his hand. I wiped at
the tears that streamed down my face and slid further into the back
seat. I was not ready to let them know that I remembered who I was,
or what I
thought
I was. I would continue with them as it was, feeling the false
safety in hiding the truth.

“Just drive Mylana, don’t
stop. Let’s just take her home.” Brenna said, knowing that there
was nothing they could do to calm me. With that, Mylana pulled the
car back out into traffic and we continued on our way.

Pulling
up to the iron gates of La Maison Chantonnay, I sat up straight and
looked at the immense stone house. Again memories flooded over me.
I recalled arriving at this house in horse and carriage, the
aristocratic parties and the multitude of vampires that would stay
for short periods of time there. And as these memories came back to
me, I began to realize that I felt different. I seemed different
mentally and physically from what I was remembering. I also began
to realize that I didn’t linger on the thoughts of blood. I
couldn’t put my finger on it, I was just plain different. Wherever
I had gone and come back from, I was not the same. I began to fear
that I had come back
wrong
. At that thought, I began to
whimper.