All that's left
In 528 years of life I have experienced many forms of pain. Torture by those who captured me from my family so many centuries ago, the murder of my father and son, the loss of my first wife who I doted on extremely, and many more agonies. To protect myself from such horrors, I made shields of ice and stone around my already dead heart. I couldn't afford to love anything again: it would destroy me. Though I have suffered many imaginable things, nothing and I do mean nothinghurt as much as when I received a call from Martin, telling me that Leila was dead.
The whole world just stopped. No noise, no feeling, no scents. My vision went black and I when I tried to speak into the cellphone, my tongue felt like lead.
"Find out where they are taking her bones." I choked out. To anyone else I was the epitome of calm. But on the inside, my chest was constricting causing spasms.
"Sire, there won't be enough-"
"Do. It." I spat out. I am not in the habit of repeating myself, nor will I ever be. With a sigh Martin went to do as I had directed.
Grabbing my long black coat, I dressed in a hurry. Racing down my grand staircase I tried to keep up my façade of calm. It was all my fault. Leila was dead and it was all my fault. If I'd just swallowed my pride and apologized to her, she wouldn't have left. She would be safe in my arms, not a pile of bones-I broke out of my train of thought.
Don't go there. I told myself, you know what it's going to do to you. This was true. But I had never felt such anguish in all my years-vampire or human.
When I finally reached the place where Leila's body had been taken, I tried to keep myself calm. I could do this; I was Vlad Tepesh, Vlad the Impaler. I had destroyed thousands of lives. Walking briskly down the long white corridor, I met a man in a lab coat.
"What are you-"
"Where are you keeping her bones?" Wisely the man decided it would be in his best interest to direct me towards the room with the bodies from the explosion that Martin had described. "Show me her body." I kept my voice under control. Which bag was she in? Which bland piece of tarp covered the body of the woman I cherished more than anything else in existence?
Pointing, the man indicated a table near my left, and then raced outside muttering a prayer as he did so. I felt my arms light with the fire that was so much a part of me as I stared at the table that held Leila's remains. Closing my eyes briefly, I extinguished the flames dancing harmlessly on my limbs. Then, slowly, I opened my eyes and removed the bag.
It was so little, what was left. The bones were mostly bits and pieces. This couldn't be all that was left, could it? There had to be more. Holding in my whimper of anguish, I stroked a finger gently along a bone, soft as if I was stroking china.
"Oh Leila…" I stopped suddenly. Something felt wrong. These bones didn't feel right. There wasn't any of her energy signature or scent attached to the bones. Something wasn't right. Then, out of nowhere, I heard a voice sigh my name.
Vlad…
Leila.