A.N. - This is a completely original work by me. I have had no help in writing it (but I have gotten tons of advice). I am positing it here for review.
Church
Sighing, she turned away from the broken church. The old church had seemed to call to her while she slept the night before, but now she was here, nothing was happening. Nothing magical, or mythical, or even mystical. Nothing. She let her shoulders droop, clearly displaying her disappointment. Her mother thought she was at the library and would be there for the rest of the afternoon. What would she do for the rest of the day? She hadn't planned anything in case the 'calling' was just her imagination. Blindly running into things without thinking, as always.
As she'd been thinking, she had also been walking, a very dangerous combination, and, being the klutz she was, she tripped. A thin, wiry form scowled from the shadows of the church, blackened with age. He watched as the tall young woman with her mass of curly-wavy, dirty blonde hair turned away from him and tripped, falling flat on her face in the mud. Father Nolatari had been so certain this mere child was their only hope, their only savior. A sign from the Creator himself, he'd said! Why would the Creator send them such a clumsy, brainless, and utterly useless little girl to save them? Their cause was hopeless. It might even be a better idea to give up now, to surrender and die, he thought grimly, than to be slaughtered nursing a false hope of survival. However, for Father Nolatari's sake, he had to bring her into the church. At least long enough for him to see that she was the wrong one. Or, perhaps, her clumsiness was a just guise to fool them. His ice blue orbs were shut off from the world when he closed his eyes. He could not bear to watch his covenants – his races, he corrected – only hope fall a second time. There was no way the girl was faking it.
He took a deep breath and did what no normal vampyr should ever be able to accomplish unharmed: he stepped out into the glaring sunlight. Glancing down, he was more than a little surprised to find that he was intact. No burning flesh, no turning to dust. He was safe. He took a moment to enjoy the feel of the warm sun on his back before setting off after the tall young woman. Had anyone been around to watch, they would have seen his wiry form gracefully stride toward the slightly taller figure of the incredibly clumsy savior.
"Come, girl," he hissed from behind her as she regained her balance for the third time since arriving at the crumbling church. The girl whipped around to face him, nearly falling yet again in her haste. Her green eyes were wide with wonder and fascination – there was no hint of disbelief that he could see. Hopefully Father Nolatari's ancient eyes would be able to see more. If there was any more to be seen.
"Who are you?" she asked, gazing at the boy before her. He looked no older than herself and stood maybe only an inch or so shorter than her. The young man had a piercing, hawk-like, ice blue gaze that immediately sent shivers racing down her spine. Luckily, his neck-length black hair covered most of his pale sapphire eyes. Despite the shivers, she felt – no, she knew she could trust him. But why?
"Who I am is of no concern to you at the moment. Follow. There are those inside who eagerly await your arrival and at least one who can answer any questions you may have," he replied hollowly, sharply turning to walk back to the black church, not even waiting for the girl to reassert herself before setting off back to the safety of the shadows. Despite possessing the ability to walk in sunlight, given most graciously by Father Nolatari, the sun still burned his eyes and he was grateful to slip back into the coolness of the shadows. The girl, he looked to see, had obediently scampered after him, not tripping in the slightest. How intriguing.
She followed as the strange young man led her into the ruins of the church, through twisting tunnels and endless passages, always heading down. What others? She thought to herself as she admired the beautiful paintings and tapestries that hung from the old stone walls, nearly breaking one painting in her fascination. What the art showed first was probably the Garden of Eden with Adam and Eve crashing down to Earth, falling away from God. The second was of a young, pale man with flaming red hair and bright golden eyes killing someone that looked very much like him – his brother perhaps? In the next painting the young murderer was cursed by a misty form – God? The fourth, a beautiful, shimmering tapestry, featured the killer wondering endlessly in tunnels not unlike the one she was in now, only his tunnels were void of art and of people. And so it continued, this story-art on the walls. Others, cursed like the young man, were spawned, and those created others. There were great battles, battles she had never heard of, not that she ever paid much attention in history, but that was beside the point. The point was that she had never heard of real werewolves and real vampires really fighting, but she had the distinct feeling these paintings told the true history of some ancient race, though which one, she could only guess.
The last painting was more of a map, to be honest, and seemed to shift before her very eyes. There was a dead snake to the east, flecked with every shade of brown and laying in a pool of its own blood. Other animals on the odd map were in similar positions. An owl, a bear, a dolphin. Everywhere there were huge snarling wolves, obliterating everything in their path. And yet there was a magnificent blood red cardinal in the very place in which her reclusive city should have been, helplessly flapping its scarlet wings, knowing it was caught and unprepared to die.
In her amazement, she had not noticed her companion stop, nor did she see the huge golden doors that towered high above her. The young, pale man tapped his foot impatiently, waking her from her trance. "You must go in alone," he stated irately, gesturing towards the doors. It was an honor few received, getting to step through those doors and into the chambers beyond. He disliked the risk Father Nolatari was taking and found himself envious of the stranger – the human. Who among their noble covenant would not be?
She nodded, concentration broken, and tripped as she reached the giant golden doors, crashing into them. If she hadn't, she never would have noticed the huge cardinal engraved into the soft metal. Its head was held high, beak open, wings fully spread and ready for flight. It was a noble bird indeed. The doors slowly creaked open, sending her toppling through them. Her lightly tanned face slammed into the ceramic mural of a red bird – the same on engraved of the door, she noticed ironically.
She lifted her gaze and blinked several times before deciding that what she saw was real. Indeed, it was over before she had even finished her blinking. What happened – what she thought happened – was this two-foot high cardinal sitting in the golden throne of the mural bird's eye transformed into an old man, slumped over and obviously weary. The old man now sitting in the golden throne looked stressed, depressed, and very worried. His tired golden eyes flickered over to her, sprawled out on the floor, spread-eagle with her face turned up toward him, dark green eyes staring at him in utter amazement. A colony of shape-shifters? she thought, still in awe of what she had just witnessed. After all, both of the cardinals, on the floor and on the door, and the two-foot cardinal, and the old man all had golden eyes. Now that she thought of it, so did the killer in the paintings.
"No child, I am not the Creator, Cain, father of all my kin. I am merely Nolatari, father of this last covenant. Hence why I am referred to as Father Nolatari." Those golden eyes seemed to almost glow with humor as the embarrassed girl scrambled up. She stood level with his head, even with his throne raised two feet off the ground.
"Who is this Creator guy? What do you want with me? What is going on?" she asked hurriedly, looking around. The room was a perfect square, the walls covered in paintings of various animals, each of them staring at her. Were these the others that guy had been talking about? They all looked scared or angry or tired.
"All in good time, my dear. First, what is your name, child?" the old man, Father Nolatari replied. Was he avoiding answering her questions?
"Kristen," she answered dutifully.
"And how old are you?" Father Nolatari asked.
"How old are you?" Kristen countered, forgetting her awe at the magic in the room for a minute.
Father Nolatari was smiling now. "Ah, but I asked you first, Kristen," To this she had no counter, and so submitted, mumbling that she was eighteen, thinking it prudent to keep her actual age hidden, in case the old man was really some creepy cultist that wanted to sacrifice her to some random icky deity.
"I would rather you not lie to me, child. After all, I have been wholly truthful myself and have been courteous and trusting beyond belief," he smiled grimly. In two sentences he showed her that, one, he could detect her lies, and, two, that he also had a heck of a lot more power than she had at first realized.
"I'm sixteen, sir," Kristen corrected, wondering vaguely whether it had been Father Nolatari who had called her here and not the church as she had originally thought.
"Indeed Kristen, I called you here. And, if you would, please call me Father Nolatari or just father. I feel terribly old each time someone calls me 'sir'." He still had not lost his thin smile, or his weary appearance. "And, since you asked, I believe that I am somewhere around six centuries in age." No wonder he looked so old! He certainly was.
Wait, "Centuries?" she gasped in disbelief. But why not? She had watched him transform from a two foot red bird to the old man he was now and the pictures on the wall kept moving, which was beginning to make her dizzy.
"I think it is time I explained to you what I am." Father Nolatari's smile broadened slightly, revealing a pair of perfectly white fangs. Kristen jumped back in fear. A vampire! "We prefer vampyr, spelled V-A-M-P-Y-R. There's really very little difference in the name, aside from the little pronunciation difference. However, let's review the traditional vampire, shall we? What are they like? What do they do?"
"Well, uh," she licked her lips, thinking back to playing Castlevania games, watching various vampire movies, like Underworld or Van Helsing, and reading the random vampire novels she could find in the library. "They, um, they drink blood. And they, er, they're dead. And they, uh, they, uh, they can't go out in sunlight . . ."
"And?" Father Nolatari prompted. Kristen thought back long and hard to all the vampire novels she had read. They could not give birth but they could –
"They sire humans!" she exclaimed triumphantly, almost jumping up and down in her excitement.
"How?" Father Nolatari asked, his smile growing once more to reveal his fangs. Kristen stopped jumping.
"They drink the to-be vampire's blood until there is none left and they give them some of their own blood," Kristen paraphrased.
"Right you are, my dear. Vampyrs, however, are very different in some respects. But we are dead, we cannot reproduce, we cannot walk in sunlight, and we do need blood to survive, but aside from that, vampyrs and human legend are incredibly different. In fact, vampires amuse those of us that are left."
"Father Nolatari, what do you mean by 'those of us that are left'? What happened to everyone else?" Kristen blurted out and immediately regretted doing so. Me and my big mouth, she thought to herself.
"Ah, I believe you have already seen the answer to that, my dear. However, if you wish it, I will explain that in a minute or so." Father Nolatari did not mind her interruptions and questions. They marked a curious mind, and curiosity would be a useful virtue to her. As would the caution she was not portraying. "As I was saying, vampyrs have very different life styles. We don't run around stealing children and devouring them. We live in covenants. There are five covenants, each with a different animal as their symbol. Our covenant is, obviously, the Cardinal Covenant. To the east would be the Snake Covenant, to the west, the Owl Covenant. North of us, the Bear Covenant resides and on the islands is the Dolphin Covenant. Each vampyr, upon being sired, is given an animal they can transform into. The covenant leaders exchange their animal for the covenant's animal, to symbolize giving up luxuries and taking on responsibilities. Each vampyr can transform into their animal whenever they so choose." That explains the two foot cardinal, Kristen thought. "Most vampyrs must stay within a normal size range for their animal when they transform. Only covenant leaders are exempt from this rule. You'll find covenant leaders are exempt from a lot of rules. I won't waste our time together talking about what covenant leaders can and cannot do." He paused here to let the new information sink in.
"Next topic: the vampyrs necklace. Each vampyr is given a necklace within the first twenty-four hours of being sired. Each necklace consists of two little bottles on a silver chain. One bottle is made of blue and green glass. It holds five swallow-full's of Sirewater. Sirewater is the liquid used to sire new vampyrs, obviously. The other bottle is red and gold glass and only has enough liquid in it for barely even one swallow and no more. This liquid is called Lifewater. It can resurrect any dead creature or being and even restore a whole forest, but the resurrection comes at a high price. After exactly fifty years to the day, hour, minute, and second of using the Lifewater, the vampyr dies and cannot be brought back, hence the name Lifewater." He showed Kristen his own necklace as an example as he talked.
"Now, to sire, you must first ask permission of the to-be vampyr. If they refuse, you need to wipe the memory of the event. If they agree, which is more than likely, you then drain them of every last drop of blood; otherwise the siring will go horribly wrong. They will die and you will be unable to bring them back to properly sire them, even with Lifewater. Within the first hour of taking all of their blood, they must be given a dose of your Sirewater. Usually Lifewater is used in instances in which the vampyr fails to give the sireling their dose of Sirewater within the time limit, though that does not often occur."
"Um," Kristen interrupted before the old man could continue, "why are you telling me all this?" she asked.
Father Nolatari looked genuinely surprised at her question. "Why! Don't you want to be a vampyr?" The shock was evident in his voice.
"Yeah I do, but why me? Why not some other person?" Father Nolatari's face fell.
"I see it is high time I told you the rest, Kristen." He sighed, resuming his original tired, haggard appearance. "For centuries the wyrwolves have been persecuting my kind. It started with ancient blood feuds that lead to the Dark Wars, a series of wars all bunched together in which many of vampyrs and wyrwolves and even humans fought and died. Afterwards, the humans cut themselves off from our two races to try to keep themselves and their children safe. In the last couple of years it has been a massacre led by the current wyrwolf leader, princes as they call them, named Prince Zorinthos. The Owl Covenant, the covenant Prince Zorinthos struck first, surrendered in hopes of keeping most of them alive, but was destroyed anyway. Next the Snake and Dolphin covenants were obliterated and then the Snake Covenant was murdered. This covenant, the Cardinal Covenant, is the last. We here in the city of Cerentia are the last of the vampyrs and we, too, have been located by the growing wyrwolf empire. I was informed of this last night, though we have no idea how long this watching has gone on. They must know by now who each one of us is and where we live and whatnot. The Creator – you know him as Cain son of Adam, the young man in the paintings who killed his brother Abel and was punished by God to forever walk the earth alone – showed me that there were five living in this city that would help us. One of them . . . is you." Father Nolatari looked expectantly at her.
"Me?" she gasped. "But I can't even walk five feet without tripping!"
"The Creator said specifically that you would stop the wyrwolves," Father Nolatari replied stubbornly.
"Well, then, who are the others?" Kristen asked, wondering who else could possibly help her destroy a bunch of wyrwolves.
"You will meet them next Saturday, if you really do wish to aid us." Kristen vigorously nodded. "Then do come closer, my dear. I will not bring harm to you, although siring has been known to sting." Shuddering but obedient, Kristen stepped forward and swiped their hair away from her neck. The old man looked on the verge of laughter. "Your wrist will do." Sheepishly, she reached out her arm towards the old man. He took her upper arm and palm in his hand and twisted it awkwardly toward him. With precision developed only with time, he bit into her flesh, almost hungrily sucking her warm, crimson blood into his own empty veins. She gasped and fell but that did not stop Father Nolatari. He did not even pause. The edges of her vision grew dim and finally, blessedly, she fell into darkness.
After what seemed like a lifetime, she awoke, blinking, to the harsh light of a far smaller room. A few moments passed and she could see clearly against the glare. The stone walls were bare and the floor was stone as well, she noticed. There was a desk, a chair, a wardrobe, a washstand and basin, and, of course, the bed she was laying on, all made of oak wood, except the basin, which was steel. Kristen groaned and sat up groggily. What had happened after she blacked out? Was she dead, or still technically alive? Was she really a vampyr? Where was she now? What time was it? How long had it been?
"Good, you're awake," a gruff, male, voice said. Kristen screamed and accidentally fell off the bed and onto the cold stone floor. The bed was warm and soft, she now noticed, whereas the ground was rough, freezing, and painful. She struggled to stand while looking for who the voice belonged to. "Behind you, idiot," the voice growled impatiently. Kristen jumped and turned around (without falling, amazingly) to face the voice. It was that guy who had taken her to Father Nolatari. His pale face was scrunched up, giving him an irritated, disdainful look.
"Father Nolatari says you need to be somewhere else now. He said you should go quickly to your home." Almost as an after thought, he added, "It's only been a few hours since he brought you out." A few hours! What was her mom thinking with her missing like this? Kristen scrambled up and raced out the door. She bit her lip, hoping that her mom had not gotten to the library yet, when she realized that she had fangs! She really was a vampyr! How would she explain suddenly having fangs to her mom? Halloween was ages away!
Kristen raced up the twisting tunnels and endless passages, up and up she went until she reached ground level, not bothering to marvel at her inane new navigational skills. She ran outside, bursting through the doors that were falling off their hinges. Kristen ran, streaming down the road, with speed that would put all-star track runners to shame. She turned sharply right, almost falling over in her haste. On the busy streets, Kristen was very nearly run over dozens of times, but thankfully managed to evade any nasty collisions with cars.
When she got to the library, Kristen realized that it had not been hours at all. That blasted vampyr had tricked her! She could have punched his face in, she was so mad! But, since he was probably still at the church laughing his head off at her, she could not. The thought made her even angrier.
Just then her mom pulled up in the parking lot, so Kristen grabbed a random book from the nearest shelf and checked it out quickly before racing out her mother's silver van. Ooh! She would get her revenge on him! But as she was thinking this, Kristen tripped on positively nothing and her face slammed into the concrete, probably chipping her left fang. Her mother was chuckling softly to herself when Kristen clambered into the van, utterly embarrassed. Kristen almost gasped when she looked at the cover of the book she had checked out. It was titled Vampires in Cerentia, obviously about vampires living in her city, Cerentia. Not only that, but it was written by one Naloteri Hephingburg! Could it be that Father Nolatari wrote Vampires in Cerentia? The irony mad her head spin.
Kristen's mother Angela was as beautiful as Kristen was clumsy. She had long, straight, light brown hair and a pair of deep forest green eyes like Kristen's. Angela had smooth, flawless, tanned skin and a shapely body, too. Even in her late thirties-early forties, younger men still considered her to be good looking. And she never tripped, or broke anything, or said anything stupid at all, like Kristen did all the time. On top of it all, Angela was a wonderful, caring mother that supported her children and a loving wife (though Kristen did not know that last bit from experience). Frustrating as it was, Kristen's mom was absolutely perfect in every way.
They sped along home. Their house was one story, but the basement had been converted into a bedroom and a bathroom for Kristen. The lawn was cut short and looked rather parched, as did the rose bush surrounding the square house. However, the large peach tree in the front yard looked as sturdy and healthy as ever. When Kristen looked closer, she saw there was an abnormally small cardinal sitting on one of the higher branches in the peach tree. It seemed to wink at her as she walked inside.
Shuddering inwardly at the thought of being followed, Kristen hurried through the living room, past her parents bedroom, and down the stairs into her bedroom. She sighed and shut the door before flopping down on top of the dark blue blanket on her bed, wondering how the upcoming week of school would go, with her being a vampyr and all. She highly doubted that the school board would understand. Are there any wyrwolves living here, or is it just vampyrs? If there isn't a wyrwolf living here in Cerentia, then that means that someone is a traitor!
Kristen gasped and sat up. She almost ran all the way back to the church to warn Father Nolatari, but she relaxed when she realized that he had probably already thought of that and had taken necessary safety measures against any traitors. Still worried, though, Kristen stood up and paced her room, tripping or bumping into things periodically. Finally, she yanked open the desk drawer, unable to just pace any longer, and she gasped at its contents.
Inside was a simple silver chain and on that chain were two little bottles, the ones that Father Nolatari had said every vampyr received within the first twenty-four hours of being sired. Kristen grinned and slipped it on over her head. She flipped her mass of curly-wavy dirty blonde hair over the chain to hide it. Kristen walked over to her dresser to examine how she now looked as a proper vampyr. Her hair seemed straighter, tamer, though not by much, and her green eyes looked lighter, a hint of yellow in them. She was definitely thinner, she decided, when she turned halfway. Her left fang was bent inward slightly and it was chipped, probably from her fall outside the library earlier, and her lip was bleeding a bit and looked swollen. But, even as she registered the look over her mouth, the small cut healed. The redness was still there, and her lip was still swollen, but the cut was gone. Amazing! Kristen thought, wiping the miniscule amount of blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. Over all, she looked pretty good, compared to normal.
"Kristen! Come eat dinner!" her father called. He was a tall man, even taller than Kristen, and he, unlike her mother, quite looked his age. Thomas had short, dirty blonde hair, dark amethyst eyes, and lightly tanned skin like Kristen's own. Kristen's stomach growled loudly, reminding her that she had not eaten lunch and had scarcely eaten breakfast that morning. Kristen quickly shoved the necklace in her shirt so that all that could be seen of it was the silver glint of the chain peeping out of her mass of hair in the right lighting. She ran out of her room, taking the stairs two at a time.
As she slipped into her seat beside her younger brother and sister, her mother caught a glimpse of her new necklace. "What do you have on, dear?" she asked sweetly. A hint of fear crossed Angela's flawless face, but it was gone too soon for Kristen to be certain of it.
"Oh! It's a necklace a friend of mine gave me as a late Christmas present." As it was still only early March, Kristen's lie held well enough, as she had expected. Her brother, Fredrick (Fred), squirmed and smirked at her. He had short cut, light blonde hair and green eyes like their mother and freckles.
"Was it a guy friend?" he asked slyly, the little fox. Kristen shook her head. What was she supposed to tell them? That a really, really old man invited her into the church (where she was not supposed to be anyway) and that he had killed her, brought her back, and she had the necklace because of it? No way! Cassandra (Cassie), Kristen's sister, giggled at Fred's comment. Cassie had deep amethyst eyes, so dark that they were almost black. Her hair was also a dirty blonde, but it was perfectly straight, unlike Kristen's.
"No, Jessica gave it to me," Kristen answered reasonably. Fred was twelve and did not believe her answer one bit. Neither did Cassie, who would turn six on Saint Patrick's Day. Cassie, though, had the uncanny ability to detect lies and see through them to the truth, and often called out the liar on it, but on this occasion, Cassie remained oddly quiet.
Kristen sighed and when her mother set her plate down in front of her, she immediately gulped down her food as if there was no tomorrow. Soon enough there was nothing left on her plate, not even crumbs, and she hurriedly piled more food onto her plate and continued eating. After taking just two bites, however, Kristen bent over her plate, still pretty full, and threw up everything that she had eaten.
"Ugh! Kristen!" Fred protested. Thomas stood, grimacing, and took Kristen's plate and scraped it into the trash, which he suddenly ordered Fred to take out for the trash men to pick up the next day. Cassie stood up and took her plate into the kitchen to eat. When Thomas asked her why, she said that she did not want to 'provoke Kristen's angry tummy with the sight of food'. Thomas sighed and shook his head.
Angela scowled for a moment before turning to Kristen. "Honey, why don't you go change and lay down?" Kristen nodded; she could still taste the bile in her mouth. She groaned and beat her head into the pillow when she got into her room. How could she have possibly forgotten that vampyrs couldn't eat human food? How could she have forgotten that vampyrs drank blood? Kristen frowned and pulled the pillow away from her face. How would she explain puking every time she ate something? The bad food excuse would only work so many times, especially since no one else would get sick. That and most stomach bugs only lasted for a short amount of time.
Kristen moaned and stripped down to her underclothes. Pulling on a long, baggy tee-shirt and baggy blue pajama pants, Kristen turned off the light and clambered into bed. What would the next few days be like? One thing was certain – Kristen would not be going to the library any time soon. She had way too much to think on.
A.N. 2 - Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think, or if you have any suggestions/comments/complaints. But if you're just going to say it sucks, don't. That's not helpful. And if you notice any typos, please let me know.