Blood Life (10 page)

Now, in later years, society might have learned to call this cannibalism, but it was truly vampirism—the state of Godliness. Vampires dedicate themselves to the propensity and pleasures of life. 

Fourteen

The flickering shadows and light revealed the depths of darkness that lay about Devendra’s lair. This mosaic of a hidden abyss was sheltered beneath a ring of candlelight. The gentle fumes of incense and smoke danced beneath the ceiling, weaving through one another in gentle blue curls. The chaos above him seemed to settle Roman, even though he had not found peace. His wish was that from this death he would unite with Alexandria, a reward worth any task.

Appearing in her brilliant shape of strikingly white beauty, Devendra’s grotesque nature was buried under the veil of tender flesh. The subtle curves of her nudity would brutalize the desires of most mortal men. Carrying out the motions of her seductive rite, she pierced her perfect cloak of skin with a consecrated blade, allowing the red streams to flow into a magnificent, tarnished silver chalice. With a passion for precision, she lifted the cup between her fingers and delivered it to its place at the epicenter of four candles, each burning at the four corners of her altar.

Raising the fresh wound to her lips, Devendra lifted out the excess blood with her tongue before firmly wrapping a cloth around her wrist to seal it. A distorted mumbling of chants surrounded her as she finished preparing. She pulled her hands against her chest, crossing her arms and pressing her hands together with palms facing outward. She lowered to her knees and rotated each of the silver bowls a quarter turn to the east, allowing their contents of soil and water to be blessed.

Removing her eyes from the altar, Devendra rose and scanned the circular room, fixing her eyes on Roman’s stripped body. The incantations began rising from the baritone depths of her throat as she approached him. She lifted her arms into the air, throwing her head back.

“Beloved Lillith,

“I invoke thee! I invoke thee!

“Act as thy witness;

“Partake in the creation of this God!”

She took a step to the east, dropping to her knees. The gold God candle she situated on the east of her altar shone brighter than the silver Goddess candle on the west.

Roman rested quietly, listening to the magical words that fell from her lips.

“I call on the neutral energies of our Lady and Mother;

“Assist in the purification of Roman’s mortal soul;

“Deliver unto him the gift of thee White Fire,

“So thy may scorch his mortal heart!”

Using her razor-sharp nails to penetrate Roman’s chest, Devendra scarred the skin over his heart with four lines: two parallel, two straight on either side—the Vampire’s Mark.

Roman struggled, remembering vividly The Mark from Alexandria, identifying it as being part of Lokee and not an entire race. Devendra’s chanting overpowered Roman’s outlets of pain. Pushing away from his chest, Devendra spun up to her feet, her limbs in movement and garments swirling, becoming consumed as she circled the room.

“Let his Divine Spirit be preserved in the prism of ye womb,

“While we expose his withering soul,

“And lead him through the Gothic Window to rebirth!”

Her wild, animal throes brought her once again before the altar. Raising her hands up to the chaos of smoke above her, Devendra threw her head back to draw the presence of Lillith nearer.

“Dearest, blessed Mother,

“Let it be learned onto him;

“The ways of ye being;

“The power and hunger of the Lamia;

“The endurance and darkness of the Caligo;

“And the thirst, ecstasy and desire of the Vrykolakas!”

Envisioning a circle of fire, she lifted a candle from the altar, bringing it directly above her head. The motions of the circle began to sway her body as she made swift, violent circles in the air. The hot wax began to spread out away from her, igniting in flames at the moment it reached the ground. She continued to throw the wax until it encircled herself, Roman and the altar.

“I invoke thee!

“Enter our Circle;

“Grant us your protection;

“Let us bring him above mortal wisdom;

“Pass him through the Earth, Air, Fire, Water;

“Instill him with our fifth energy,

“So that his eyes may know Light: the Akasha!”

Carefully bringing the silver bowl of soil above her head, Devendra lowered herself beside Roman. The green candle, sitting in the North, took its opportunity to illuminate the room, leaning in to hear her. From her stance, with her head bowed, she began to chant while sprinkling the soil along Roman’s body.          

“Give him Strength above All;

“Give him Beauty within the Flesh;

“Give him Eternity to walk the Earth!”

With circular movements, she slowly ground the grains of soil into his skin, digging her nails through his flesh. Her chants continued to ring up into the room, as she stood and walked back to the altar. With practiced accuracy, Devendra anointed her fingers with her own blood from the chalice, using it to extinguish a candle at the exact moment she set down the bowl.

Picking up the water bowl, she walked back to her place beside Roman. As she baptized his body with the water, her words called upon the blessing.

“May his thirst be only for companionship;

“May he be cleansed with the water;

“May his thirst be only quenched by the Blood Life!”

The last droplets of water turned to blood as she smeared it into him. Once again returning the bowl to the altar, she suffocated another candle in blood. Leaning over to draw a full breath of air, she turned to face him. Releasing the air from her lungs in forceful thrusts, Devendra began to dry his body. When the air was expelled fully from her lungs, she continued her ritual words.

“Allow him to hear the voice of the wind;

“Allow him to know all that flows through it;

“Allow him breath forevermore!”

The flames increased their stretch to the sky as the momentum flung her into an uncontrollable dance. Waves of energy and convulsion shot through Roman’s body.

“Let him be warmed by the White Fire;

“Let him see by the White Fire;

“Let him dance on the White Fire!”

Her ecstatic motions continued until the vigorous reaches of the flames subsided, spinning her off balance, forcing her to fall on top of Roman. Every rhythm of pulse closed the sensations of touch and pain. Pulling Roman’s limp body up to her exposed, porcelain slivers, she clamped beneath and through his jugular, receding his frame deeper, lower into the blankets.

For each of them, the moment inverted on itself, collapsing the corporal senses while lifting awareness to an apex of erotic intensity. Her touch wilted Roman’s flesh, from his breast to his genitals, flaying away the barrier to Godless pleasures.

Exposed strings of red muscle tried in vain to protect Roman’s heart as Devendra laid her hands to his chest, the touch staining her brilliance. From a secret depth, her hunger ignited in black flames of demonic energy, piercing its way through taunt strands of flesh, enveloping and devouring his mortal heart.

From his twisted frame, she pulled the cold shell of his heart to her lips, pushing life eternal back through the chambers, granting him the Blood Life.

Luring him inside of her, she moaned, a gracious bond of sex that stirs the pagan forms of nature from their long sleep. As her lust lowered around him, his heart was drawn to pull the blood through his veins, tearing away the channels and lifting the shadow-mist from Roman’s eyes. With every pull on his muscles, the empowerment seized him, healed him, bringing him back into a rage of passion and life.

With his first vibration of strength, Roman clasped onto the base of Devendra’s neck, pulling her face to his sweat-beaded chest. Throwing her now beneath him, Roman tore at the cloth that concealed her wound, using the stained shreds to interlock their hands.

Devendra’s struggling was to pull him deeper inside, to increase his force and tenacity. Each of their screams of rejuvenation probed through the hollows of the room, climbing on top of one another until they culminated into bent groans of rapture. Her face drowned in the blankets, and her breasts rubbed against the floor, as he continued to take her with seething arousal. Every stretch of fiber contracted around him, cuffing him behind her. The throbbing pressure collapsed around them, sending them into a flood of ecstasy; the first taste of the vrykolakas.

Fifteen

The last rays of sun crept through the sheer curtains, casting shadows of every form across the room. The breeze cut through the cracked windows, forcing the curtains to dance and wind together in an embrace. Cast iron and wooden figurines seemed to guard every angle of the room. With their stares, absorbing all actions and thoughts, they remained petrified in their fixed states.

Each statue reflected the candlelight that painted the room gold. The candles revealed, with shimmering glares, the silver posts that extended to the ceiling, supporting the deep mahogany bed. Draping down to seal the parameters of the bed, the dark chiffon canopy caressed the shiny plates of the floor. The delicate waves of motion that animated the fabric opened up and allowed Roman’s unobstructed fall to the ground.

The sudden jolt of pressure ended his three-day sleep. As his memories came around, he grappled at the unblemished skin that coated his chest. With a long exhaled breath he pushed himself up to a sitting position and let his eyes circle the gold-tinted, unfamiliar room. The crisp atmosphere invaded every hanging ornament, creating an enticing appearance that now waited in a corner of the room. As the precision returned to his vision, Devendra began her approach.

“I trust you slept well, Roman?”

Her words escaped him, forcing him to retreat behind his hands.

“It was a dream, my chest is—” he stuttered, looking down at his chest, “—my heart was—” He broke off, tearing at himself in disbelief.

“No, Roman.” Her words were soft, enchanting to the ear, as she placed herself on the floor beside him. “Your wounds will always heal themselves if that is what you wish. Your appearance will alter under your commands. You have been given my blood-kiss, which is not a gift to ignore.”

She paused to study his expression and listen to his thoughts, reaching out to calm his wringing hands. “You have died, Roman, to become one of the greats.” He was still unclear, staring at her blankly. “You are now one of the vrykolakas. To be given a blood-kiss is to be brought over to an immortal way of life, or should I say un-life?”

She smiled down at him.

“But you do not understand; my soul was taken from me—”

“And returned,” she promised, with a raise of her brow.

“But I watched! I saw my body dismembered by your hand, and then, pulled into the mist.” He hesitated as the memories flooded over him.

“The mist was the Spirits of the Caligo and Lamia anointing your soul. I have released you of your mortal burden, at your request, and given you the Gift. Lillith has assisted me in creating you, in making you. You are immortal, Roman, one of the vrykolakas.”

“What is the meaning of all this?” he demanded, shocked by her conviction. “I am what?”

 A slight laugh escaped her lips. “You are a vampire, my dear Roman; you must live on the Blood Life for eternity. You will never get sick, you will never grow old, and you will never die.”

She rubbed her hands along the sides of his face, stopping at his temples and rubbing them to soothe the uncomfortable thoughts. “You must be hungry,” she half-whispered, thoughtfully. “It takes time for you to learn to feed and complete the pro—”

“No, I shall never feed off another human beings life!” His confidence seemed melodramatic at best.

“I assume you are prepared for,” she said, laughing, “the three horrifying centuries that a vampire remains earthbound without feeding before Death even considers them?”

“But I refuse to drink blood,” he claimed, spitting on the ground near her feet, immediately regretting that action.