Chapter Two—A Visionary Soul
Time had taken its toll. I refused, now, to fear the darkness: it may have been the only thing that I ever known in the life before this, but now it was trivialized by so many more important things. And, even in the depths of the night, there were the stars, glorious, glowing beacons of comfort hung in the heavens that my eyes were continually fixed upon this night, as every other night. A consequence, and the downside, of this immortality: sleep was not possible.
I shrugged on the coat that had been draped over the single chair in my small apartment—it was more for show than for any warmth it might provide. I settled the small hat perfectly atop my head and arranged the light, short veil to fall across my eyes, wondering if taking an unplanned jaunt at this time of night was worth it: there were always prying eyes, nearly always paired with gossiping mouths.
I caught the roll of my own eyes in the mirror: I was being stupid. I had clearly already decided to go forward with this little excursion, for some unknown reason, and no visions of---
The view of my room was replaced by one more somber: a graveyard, glowing faintly with light cast from a nearby streetlamp. I could feel my eyebrows crease together as I tried to take in every detail: there might be something of importance here. It was clearly in the depth of night, the graveyard familiar, as it was only a few blocks from here and one that I frequently passed on my late night walks. Suddenly, something moved in the depth of the shadow: sweet, plaintive notes drifted on the breeze, accentuated by the ringing of small bronze bells. I gasped, seeing myself, exactly as I was now, standing on the verge of the lot, one hand poised on the closed gate: Would I go in?
I came to myself suddenly, casting about with my eyes nervously: I was again in my own room. Why did I feel as if destiny itself had pricked me? Something in the air whispered to be careful…
My usually vibrant spirits were suppressed as I glanced in the mirror again. Why did I seem to know that, from this night hence, something would be very, very different? The path was set; I would not turn back.
I held my heels in my hands as I slipped from the window and on to the fire escape, monitoring the street below for any signs of life. I was in luck; no one else was foolish enough to be out at this hour in the dark alley below me. A soft smile curled my lips upwards in spite the anxiety that I felt. And yet, I could not silence the soft voice that asked, over and over again, "Why?"
With one quick leap, I was in the street below and demurely slipping on my favorite pair of shoes, looking exactly as a lady should. Well, how one would look if ladies were accustomed to rambling walks in the dead of night.
The heels of my shoes clicked softly on the pavement, yet the sound was loud in my sensitive ears. It was odd to see the town empty, the shops closed-- even the saloons. And then, before I knew it, I was poised on the threshold of that very cemetery. My fingers plucked at the bars softly, peeling the flaking paint from them. Indecision entered my mind: there were no visions to guide me from here, no voice whispering kind directions in my ear. Instead, there was only the soft beckon of a melancholy violin, the tintinnabulation of bells over graves—and an unmistakable presence in the dark.
My eyes found the stars, bright even through the soft interference of streetlights. A chasm was slowly opening at my feet; I could leap over now, to the new world at the other side or remain where I was, frozen in a life of continual half-truths and the eternal struggle against overpowering instinct. My eyes closed, I unlatched the gate, hands shaking slightly. This was it. This was the beginning of the rest of all time.
I followed the sound of the music, ringing in my ears like a siren's call. A gentle breeze caressed my face, lifting the veil that crosshatched my vision. A peculiarly enticing scent, somehow both reminiscent of a winter's day and the crispness of a forest in a high summer, entered my senses. My mind reeling with knowledge: whatever waited there, in the depth of the darkness, was a vampire.
My eyes widened, and I waited desperately for a vision to grip me, to guide my next move.
And nothing came.
The visions, my curse and my gift, were not there.
They were not coming—I'd lost my eyes in the darkness.
But I had come this far. I would not turn back. I was stubborn—and curious. To say otherwise would be to tell a blatant lie. And so I took a step forwards: a tremor in the music answered my movements. I faltered for a moment, eyes raking the monuments in a desperate search for the unknown source. There! A swatch of honey-blonde hair caught my gaze: small evidence that lent me courage, giving me the strength I needed as I stepped into the invisible current of destiny swirling about my feet.
The wind rose, the bells rang. The music stopped.
I watched his long, lean form unfold, the graceful, wary manner in which he held himself: So careful not to give anything away. He turned towards me; face carefully masked against prying eyes. My gaze traveled up and down his body, noting the sinewy musculature, his strikingly good looks. Increasing irritation curled his lips into a displeased frown: I could feel an answering smirk turn up my own lips. He bowed, a curt, vaguely insulting gesture that amused me. I crossed the few remaining steps to the monument boldly, settling myself against it. His height forced me to look up into his eyes, stained scarlet with the blood of his last meal. Something inside me ached as I realized what he was: something that I could never allow myself to be again. But why did it matter that he was something that I was not? We were only two strangers… weren't we?
A flurry of wind interrupted my thoughts, bursting from behind me: I watched as it tousled his hair impetuously; I caught myself wishing that I could do the same. A change in expression caught me: he looked shocked. I smiled wryly up at him, realizing that he had probably just discerned my true nature: after all, not many vampires had golden eyes.
A thick, familiar haze began to drift in and my muscles drooped under the weight of the future: darkness closed in, the absolute darkness that filled my human memories. I began to shake, overwhelmed by a sense of fear that was not my own; and yet something held me here, in the graveyard, preventing me from losing myself in the vision. For the first time, I felt grounded—secure. I strained my senses, searching for the meaning: at the point furthest from me was a voice. My voice, in a strained whisper: "Jasper!"
I came to myself again and a sympathetic jolt of pain lanced through me as I opened my eyes, catching the haunted, desperate expression that danced across his face. Behind that ivory pale mask-- in those violently vivid eyes now hidden by alabaster lids-- dwelt an all-consuming ache. On their own volition, my hands extended, carefully caressing his face. I leaned in, absorbed by his scent, intent on his expression. His eyes flickered open; the knowing depth of them caught at my heart, unraveling the words in my mind and releasing them from my lips in a soft whisper: "There are so many things that I wish I knew. And there are some that I do know, beyond any shadow of a doubt."
In silence, he leaned in, his hand tracing a burning line up from my shoulder, over my bare neck, finally pausing as he took my chin in his gentle grasp. His gaze bored through me, capturing every emotion that flickered through my being in those endless eyes. I felt the slight pressure of his hand, tilting my face up towards him; his gaze was alight with the same wondering amazement that I felt deep within my core. His lips brushed mine, softer than a moth's wings. My hands drifted around his neck, securing me to him, my anchor, as wave after wave of peaceful assurance swept through me.
His lips sought mine again: I smiled. I needed no vision, no premonition, to tell me what I already knew: here, in him, was the rest of my life.
