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Divided Darkness

By

C. Bennett

One

Present Day.

“I crouch down here behind a column in the family mausoleum, my mind full of dread and fear. I will be found shortly, I should escape, but where am I to run? A part of a divided cell in which I urge for the strength of the other half to merge with me, make me stronger.  Choice is something that fills my head right now, but which way to turn is what confuses me. I walk amongst you mortals, the likes of my kind just a myth in your minds or something to entertain you at the movies. Your solar star, powerless to drain or kill me, I am not of pure blood. I walk amongst you as I please; I also protect you from the kingdoms of darkness. I have lived amongst you for two hundred and fifty years, but to your deceiving eyes I merely seem of mid-twenties. All the elders have been destroyed, and my kind fight for our survival, mostly in small groups, but there are more of us than you think, an agitating torment for our biggest enemies, the ones that can destroy us, the ones you are familiar with as werewolves. Why these thoughts enter my head now I do not know. I am you hero, I am your saviour, and I am a slayer. Unlike the rest of my kind, I do not need to feed on you; I have no urge to do so. My twin Tricia talks often of trying this need, although she like I have no reason to. It sickens me to witness my kind feeding, but for them it’s a must. If I survive this night, my parent’s history is a priority; I cannot have this gift without the power to conquer. I can only hope my kind have realised that I may be in danger, but I gave them no knowledge of where I was going or what I was up to. They have never failed me before, but then they have always been by my side. I truly need to focus, be bold and use all the gifts of training I’ve been given. I just need to find the courage”.

Her thoughts faded.

The mausoleum was coated in white marble, completed by vast limestone pillars that secured the dwelling. A number of named stones imbed in its structure, but there was a reassurance of no bodies in them, as all traces of the dammed were destroyed at their time of death. In her mind, she remerged old memories, visions and sounds consisting of high pitched screaming, followed shortly thereafter by the brilliant fluorescent glow of red from the victims decapitating body as it dissolved, leaving nothing but a small trace of black and yellow ooze marking where the unfortunate once stood. The air surrounding the eerie chamber was stale. Mortals would be sure to state that it smelt of death, but how could the dammed possibly comment on this morbid odour. Oddly it has always brought comfort to the vampire world, generally using it as an escape pod or to hide away until the enemy’s cries became silent with the descending disappearance of the moon. It however brought no security on this night. She sat there, hands clenched tight against her head, continuing to overload herself with mindless thoughts, instead of concentrating on finding a solution for her desperate situation. The haunted images of what had been witnessed previous this night could never be undone and the ever-growing pain of these visions both saddened and angered her. A lifetime of deceit, but yet centuries of kindness and compassion just didn’t piece this puzzle together, there had to be so much more.  Self pity set in as she felt victimised by the situation, wondering why this horror and burden was brought on her, wondering what sin she may had created to deserve such an injustice. Her silence became interrupted as one of two large solid oak doors from the chambers entrance began to creek. Immediately she withdrew her piercing armoured weapon from it’s casing, a semi-automatic firing arm laced with silver bullets. Focusing on the echoing footsteps, instinct would assume the steps to be that of a dog pattering along, however the conclusive reality remained that they were that of her avenging wolf. The steps became silent but became replaced by an odd sound of what seemed to be flesh and bone moulding itself, as if it were transforming back into its original human form. A few pants of exhausted human noises came from its mouth, then returning to its feet it ventured deeper into the chamber. Realising that the creature had transformed it appeared that the mausoleum had obviously been cleverly and carefully constructed to shelter the enemy from the powers of the moon, leaving them defenceless and doomed. Never before had she been given the opportunity to realise this and instinctively thought that should her night become triumphant, would use this place in the future as a positive defensive. Once again silence, as speculation assumed that the intruder had come to a stop, just before the descending steps that brought them down into the main ceremonial area. She gazed upwards, staring at her father’s name that was distinctively carved in golden letters against its black marbled background. Amon, an elder, a pureblood, and like the rest of what was known as the senior order was massacred by the enemy, sometime shortly before the time of the twins birth.  Seeking the stone for a hope of guidance, its silence gave no response; she closed her eyes and sighed quietly, then re-opened them. The intruder broke the silence, using one word that chilled through the chamber. She silently arose to her feet preparing herself to run and open fire. He called once more, he was calling to her, she was lost, and she was confused but confronted.

 He called “Samantha”.

 

 

Two

Canada 1755.

The still clear night opened up a blanket of stars, all bearing down below and appearing to reflect on the half covered snow rocks within the mountains.  Above all this, in the height of its glory, the full moon, bearing its coolness upon the grounds, absorbing it’s energy and brightness from the reflection of the sun, ready to fully awaken its darkened children in the midnight hour, the creatures of the night. The dampened air created an aroma, a fresh fragrance spanned in all directions, generated by the vast pine forest that surrounded these lands. On one of these hillsides a singular wolf paced back and forth, anguished about the fore coming hours. This was no ordinary wolf however, but that of a pureblood werewolf, hansom with its silver-grey coat, a wondrous form of magnificence, but a deceiving creature of bloodshed and deadliness to any mortal that approached it. It focused its attention on other distant howling, but to determine whether the cries were of a pure source or a creature of darkness was difficult if not impossible to tell. He glanced at the formation of rocks behind him, hopeful for progress, but the cave entrance was deserted and all help was well within the far depths of it. The anguish of his frustration only tormented what remained of his normal soul; he simply paced some more in the snow. He wanted to go to Mary; after all they had been together for nearly two hundred years. She had never given birth before, and the result of the child was a wonder to all who knew about the situation. Since he converted her all that time ago, back in her hometown of London, she had always stayed completely devoted to him. Never before that, had any human ever shown any compassion or sympathy towards an immortal, usually they would scream and try to run. She had become extremely ill at a young age of which was obvious causes of the remainder of the black death plague, but this was not what gave him the decision to convert her, but the fact that on the evening of September 1^st 1666, the great fire of London had swept right into her family home and that by the time he had got to her, she had been very badly burnt, left in her bed for almost dead. With no hesitation, he sunk his teeth directly into her neck, giving her new life. He distinctly remembered worrying whether she would hate him for doing it, but her love for him was so true that she was just thankful to be still with him.