Resurrected (9 page)

The décor had a 1980s feel
and was mixed with the odd antique from Jolly Ole’ England. I was
struck by the fact that the oldest real antique in this place was
me! A chuckle escaped my lips.

“What would you like,
Madame?” the bartender asked in French, startling me out of my
thought.

“Red wine, please,” I
answered swiftly as I turned to look at him. I nearly fell off the
barstool from shock–before me stood Angel. I quickly tried to
compose myself and sent him a stern look.

“What are you doing here?
What are you trying to do to me?” I was exasperated.

With a blank expression, he
turned, grabbed a wineglass and filled it with red wine. Putting
the glass down, he gently pushed it towards me.

“Why do you bother with
such things as ordering wine? Don’t you know that no matter what
tricks you use, all mortals know there is something unnatural about
you?” Angel said, ignoring my questions.

“
How dare you!” was all I
could muster, which made Angel smile at me. I shook my head and
asked again, “what are you doing here?”

“I have come here to tell
you that Eme is searching for answers as we speak. It is all
beginning so it can finally end. And you Deirdra, don’t let this
rage take over your will, don’t let it overcome your
judgment.”

“What the hell? Do you
always talk in riddles?” I asked, completely unable to follow what
he was trying to tell me.

“Don’t give in. You can
fight it. Beware of the blood you lust for, it is not your survival
instincts. It is something much more sinister that will overtake
you.”

“But I
need to feed. I
never
want to go through what I did in the past when I stopped
feeding.” I said, losing my rigid posture, losing my
confidence.

“Ah, but you can still
feed, just don’t give in to that desire for carnage, to the beast
that lives within you–within all vampires. I know you have been
feeling the need to kill and you cannot explain it.”

“But…”

“Just don’t kill, Deirdra.
You will find out soon enough why.”

Suddenly a cold blast of
air hit me as the door swung open. I turned to look at who had come
in then quickly returned my attention to Angel, hoping to ask him
more questions. But behind the counter there was an old, balding,
overweight man, standing there drying glasses.

He looked at me, twisting
his face in annoyance. “What? What are you looking at?” His accent
was thick.

Without answering, I turned
and looked back to the door. There stood an attractive man. Either
luckily, or unluckily for me, he decided to come over. Immediately
I felt uneasy. Now standing before me, the man was silent, with
only a smirk upon his face.

“What?” I said and I waited
for him to respond, but nothing.

“Can I help you?” I pried.
The aura about him exuded arrogance. Finally, he began to
speak.

“Hello
Deirdra. So, we meet again. It seems like it has been
so
long–doesn’t it?” He
cocked his head and I could feel his gaze examining me, his soul
searching mine. I loathed this man. With furrowed brow, I
scrutinized him.

“Who are you and why are
you looking at me like that?”

“Ah, you know who I am.
Think, Deirdra. Think,” the stranger said, taking a couple of steps
before sitting down on the barstool beside me. My mind raced, then
suddenly it dawned on me. Remembering my conversation with Elijah
earlier, I realized it was Adam. This new body held the soul of the
Blood God. Suddenly he began laughing, slapping his large hand down
on the counter top. Realizing that my shock and fear amused him, I
sat up tall and ridged. To preserve my well being, I attempted to
raise my guard to appear in control. Before I was fully able to
exude any kind of control, my mind went blank and my mouth began to
shoot out questions.

“Why are
you here? What do you want? How is it even
possible
?”

I was in
shock. I couldn’t believe that the Blood God stood before me, now
as Adam. I stopped rambling and began examining him. He had short,
slightly tousled dark brown hair and the blue of his eyes appeared
almost translucent. He was well groomed and was dressed in a long
black leather jacket, black slacks and a crimson
coloured
shirt. His intense eyes seemed to pierce into my
subconscious. I tried to resist his thoughts from entering my mind.
Like a fierce wind through leaves or a mass of whispers, his voice
tried to break through. Becoming rather irritated by him and his
intrusion, I raised my hand, pushed firmly on his shoulder and rose
to my feet. Looking directly at him, I simply demanded that he
should leave.

I could tell he was holding
back laughter, which angered me more.

“You’re hungry, aren’t
you?” Adam said, changing the topic, ignoring my questioning and
demand to leave me alone. “Mmm, how you desire that decadent
scarlet liquid that gives you life.” He paused for a moment, his
eyes widening and a grin appearing.

“Oh, and how you yearn to
hear that precious mortal heart in that fatal rhythm. You need that
even more, don’t you?” Adam stopped, and tilted his head to the
side. His brow furrowed as he watched and waited for my reaction.
All I could do was stare at him in disbelief.

“How dare
you!” I blurted out before I began to storm out of the pub. I could
hear his incessant laughter as I approached the door. Reaching for
the door, I paused for a moment. I turned and scowled at Adam and
warned, “we killed you once before. We can do it again. You had
better watch who you play with. It may be the last game you ever
play.” Before I knew it I was standing in the cold and everything I
saw was
coloured
red in my
anger.

Climbing into my cold car,
I started the engine and drove off with nowhere in particular in
mind. Listening to the hum of the car, I was unable to shake the
wrath that wrapped itself so tightly around me. Turning down Saint
Laurent, I spotted a duo of prostitutes. I slowed down as I drove
past and parked my car a block away.

With the slam of the car
door my heart began to race with anticipation. The need to release
my anger and all-consuming desire for blood directed me to those
poor women. Together their eyes looked up to greet mine as I
stopped in front them. Before either of them could speak, my fist
shot out at the girl to my right. Connecting hard with her temple,
she was knocked out and slumped to the cold snow-covered ground
unconscious. The other girl began to scream. I moved behind the
screamer and clamped my hand firmly over her mouth. Within seconds
my fangs pierced her skin and her succulent blood was flowing down
my throat. Everything seemed to fall away as I drank and my thirst
lessened with each swallow.

I heard the girl’s
heartbeat slow, but I continued to drink from her, longer than I
would have normally, unable to tear myself away. When I finally
pulled away, I looked down at her and unlike myself, I succumbed to
the need to kill. Placing one hand on each side of her head I
snapped her neck with one quick twist. My needs sated, I walked
back to my Mustang, sparing her unconscious partner not even a
glance.

Chapter 9

(Eme – December 18,
1999)

Stepping off the small
charter plane with her backpack slung over one shoulder, Eme made
her way across the tarmac towards the airport. It had been nearly
two thousand years since she had walked on Roman soil. Part of her
soul ached for the past but also shunned it. She had changed
drastically over the millennia and her memories played through her
mind. The Eme she once was, during the Roman Empire, was a stranger
to her now.

Eme walked to the front
exit of the small airport to a waiting cab. The sight of the
rolling plains in the distance, known as the Roman Campagna, caught
her eye. They were bordered by the scenic view of mountain ranges
and she couldn’t help but take in the beauty of Rome’s countryside.
Upon seeing Eme, the driver immediately hopped out of the car and
opened the rear door for her.

Driving through the busy
streets of Rome, Eme sat quietly looking out the window,
remembering and reliving past moments in her mind.

Upon reaching the Via
Vittorio Veneto, Eme had the driver stop and let her out. She
decided to walk the streets and make her way to the hotel. The
harshness of neon lights from the newer shops and cafés, contrasted
horrifically with the ancient ruins, old palaces and churches. It
didn’t seem right to Eme.

Making
her way up the winding road to the ancient city wall, Eme marveled
at the mortals. With their dark skin and hair, with their
colourful
voices and mannerisms, they were just as she
remembered and loved.

After over an hour of
wandering, Eme found herself standing before the old ruins of the
Coliseum. A sudden shiver ran down her back. As she walked towards
the ancient foundation, she reached out and pressed her palm
against the cool column and let her hand caress it as she closed
her eyes and sighed.

Within her memory she could
hear a distant cheering and a smile crossed Eme’s face. She
remembered how she was ready to fight and the bloodlust that was
roused by it. They liked to keep her hungry, for it made the fights
much more entertaining…

▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪

Ancient Rome

(
The eternal city
)

Part I

The sirocco grazed the
rolling plains of Rome, a hot depressing south wind that seemed to
suffocate the people.

It was an unusually hot
evening and the crowd was agitated. There had been sheet upon sheet
of parchment disbursed throughout the City to announce the fight.
Female gladiators were a great attraction at the Coliseum and
tonight promised to be extraordinary. They had been waiting for
this fight since the last full moon and every one before it over
the past year. The full moon was high in the sky and the air was
filled with constant chanting. The rhythm of stamping feet mimicked
the sound of a beating heart that made Eme even more
animalistic.

Octavious, the man who
came to own Eme, had found out very quickly that she was different
from the other slaves. Unbeknownst to him, his purchase of her was
to be his most profitable. She was an enigma to him. Her beauty was
mystic for where they had taken her, northwest of Cairo, although
she did not look Egyptian at all. As Octavious’ eyes fell upon Eme,
he knew he had to have her.

Once in possession of her,
he never took the precautions the slave auctioneer had given him
seriously. Eme came bound with one-and-a-half inch black iron
shackles at both wrists and ankles. She was also held in an iron
cage that was only large enough for her to sit. To Octavious Eme
looked pale, hungry and scared, but he soon found out why he’d been
warned: she was no timid little woman.

That night, after
acquiring her, he took her to his villa and had one of the house
servants bring her a meal of bread, turnips, beans, olives and a
cup of water. With the sudden clatter of metal and clay bowls
breaking on the solarium floor, a shrill scream filled the night
air. As Octavious and two other servants ran out to the solarium,
they found a young servant girl dead on the ground, her neck ripped
open. Eme sat unearthly calm in her cage and blood was smeared on
her mouth. Not knowing what to do, or unable to register what had
happened, Octavious turned around in disbelief and left the dead
girl to her weeping parents.

Later that night, as he
tried to sleep, his thoughts ran rampant. As the hours ticked by,
the hour the sun was to rise and heat up the lands was upon him. It
was only by this time that the weariness finally settled in and
sleep treated him to rest. However, as soon as he began to fall
into that lovely place of dreams, an ear-splitting scream jerked
him awake.

Posthaste, Octavious made
his way to where the scream had resonated from, only to find a
whimpering Eme. Still in her cage, she sat there hugging her knees
pressing them up to her chest. The fear in her eyes alone sent
shivers through Octavious.

“Get me out of here!” Eme
yelled. Immediately, anger filled Octavious. How dare his slave
demand this!

“You wake me from my
pleasant dreams, which had already been delayed by you this eve and
make demands?” He walked over to the cage and kicked it with his
bare foot, immediately regretting his temper. Eme’s eyes darted
back and forth between Octavious and the creeping line of sun
heading her way. This time she begged.

“Please! Please, you must
let me inside or cover me with many pieces of cloth. The sun…it is
coming.”

Octavious looked at her,
eyes wide with confusion and still bothered by his forestalled
sleep.

Unable to help himself he
had to ask, “why are you so frightened of the sun?” Eme stayed
silent. He could tell she wanted to answer him, but she gave him no
response. So, out of cruelty and curiosity, Octavious walked away
from Eme as she cried out for him to stay. Grabbing onto the iron
bars, Eme shook her little prison in vain trying to loosen or break
her way out. But it was to no avail, the cage stood
steadfast.