Chapter Three
Carlisle
Frustration coursed a searing path down my spine as I angrily kicked at the remains of the boulder that had once seemed so sturdy and capable of aiding my planned demise. I had meant to break my back on it from my dive down the mountain summit. Now, I stared in open-mouthed amazement and confusion as the last of it crumbled to dust beneath my spontaneous and violent action.
In stunned stupor, I watched as debris from the once solid granite rock traced a quick path over the remaining slope. It raced from the strip of flat land I stood on into the stream slicing through the forest where I had hidden since the day I roused from the hellish experience of my conversion.
Splash after splash, the flowing water rippled out from the points where the surface had been pierced by the broken rocks. The shimmering surface of the water reflected faded darts of dull orange from the remnants of the day's sunshine, its perfect flow temporarily interrupted by the intruding stones. Yet it quickly closed over the new additions, accepting them into its devouring soft bed.
Breaking out of my shocked abstraction, I looked down at my uncovered arm to examine my skin's shimmering surface, desperately hoping for a change in its look to suggest I had made a transition without immediate knowledge.
Though I had done this many times without positive results, I was still unbelieving of my failure. Alas! I had no need to linger in my inspection. Quickly glancing down at my arm, I silently cursed the dulling glow that confirmed I was still a vampire. I forcefully swallowed back my disappointment, a lingering human response that only served to rouse fiery flames torching down my throat, mocking my vain and sudden hope of respite from it all.
Regretfully however, the path of accepting my circumstances seemed truer than my vain attempts to kill myself. Looking down at the place of my failure, where once stood a very large boulder, and back at the untroubled stream flowing easily over its remaining shreds, my heart burned with jealousy about how simple destruction was for some. It ached desperately, and my spirit wept bitterly for what I had become. While the pieces of rock had gone smoothly into oblivion, I remained as I was.
I raised my head to the skies at the unfairness of my circumstances, wishing for tears to soothe my distress or lightning to free me from this cruel reality, if even it had that power. As I expected though, the heavens stayed impervious and silent to my woes. As they had done the many times I had beseeched them for answers for my misfortunes, even their form remained unbent by my anxiety.
Recalling my earlier experience, I chose not to linger on desperate pleadings any longer. It had been a great effort to lift up my eyes and beg God to answer me, as I had been uncertain if I was still welcome in the Creator's presence. However, finding my voice past the pain in my throat, I had raised up a loud cry and fallen to my knees, begging, "Why do You curse me?"
When it had become obvious I was not to get any answers, I had angrily bellowed my resentment for my end up to the unyielding skies. "You refuse to kill me, and instead leave me an abomination to the earth and to Your creation—unable to please You!" I had accused. "Have I not served You as I should? Why then do You leave me to suffer? Why do You stay silent to my pleading—to my woes?"
Sobs rack through my stone body when my charges yielded naught. And then I had turned away and sworn to quietly find my own relief from my monstrosity. So, despite another failed attempt, I merely raised my head to further inspect the place of my intended suicide for anything else vaguely lethal that could aid my quest quickly.
Sighing in resignation and despondence at the bereft spread of land before me, I acquiesced to the absolute but unwelcome truth of my new being; I could not, on my own, end the life of the beast I had become. The thought that I was to bear this accursed life for eternity saddened me greatly. How long could I endure the flames of fire that licked up my throat with growing intensity until they took control of me?
My sorrow was deep. When I turned to look regretfully back at the elevated height from which I had thrown myself dozens of times in the past day, my sadness heightened. Reluctantly acknowledging it did not hold the means to my death, I slowly walked away from it. Regardless of my eager attempts from its peak, I had acquired neither bruise nor dent on my rocky skin to attest to my long exertion.
All of my varied efforts could only be perceived in the mud stains splotched over the yellowish cotton of my old clothes. I bore no other evidence of my long habitation under the river where I had hoped to drown the day before. And there were, likewise, no signs to remember my efforts to burn. Wearied in my soul and without hope, I lurched into a trot, retracing the path that forged deep into the forest and to the cave I had discovered the day before.
It was improbable that the spacious groove in the side of the tall cliffs bordering the ocean held a solution to my predicament, but it most certainly held a measure of relief. Hence, I hastened my journey, avoiding human paths as much as possible in my meandering, and arriving at its veiled mouth after only a few minutes. Overlooking the sea that led across to the fabled new world, it was the perfect spot from which to await whatever fate was destined me—be it death or worse, murder.
When I reached the cave at last, I crept through the small fissure at its mouth into the darkness engulfing the scant space. Through its imperceptible entrance, wholly bordered by an overgrowth of sharp thorn bushes and scant flowers holding on in the fading spring light, I stared out into the approaching darkness. My strength was rapidly declining and with it a mounting desperation for sustenance.
Soon, all the little cave would be able to provide would be a perfect hiding place from the world and nothing else. By my fate, I was deigned to live in eternal misery, losing my reason to a burning in my body worse than the very fires of Hades or meant to become a cold-blooded murderer, killing innocent humans for nourishment.
I shook violently at the sudden vision, fearing that there should ever be a day such as those contained by the horrific scene of carnage my mind conjured. While I was aware my impending doom determinedly drew nearer, I resisted the seeming premonitions with sheer force of will.
That did not aid to dispel the fear gripping my heart in its pure, unbridled form, though. Thus, forth came the taunting visions of a desperately irrepressible vampire. Wild and witless, he killed humans boundlessly in vain satisfaction of his depraved longing.
I twisted and turned away from the condemning thoughts, but the minutes ticked on without relief. The unreal footsteps from my imaginings only grew louder, it seemed. Approaching with a cacophonous pounding heartbeat, my ghostly nemesis continually pressed the benefits of such sustenance into my mind.
I willed the phantasm leave me be, only to have it joined by a wafting scent more delicious and satisfying than any other I could remember. The nectar of life assailed me, bending my resolve further than before, making me momentarily wish that it could all become real.
A keening cry from an owl broke me from my bewildered haze, bringing reason and restoring my fragile will. With these, I dredged up the last of my reserved vigor against my intangible foes, and fought furiously to restrain the alluring voices whispering to me—promising me release through a fragile shell of skin and sinew.
It will be your salvation, yes it will, the voices chanted. Yet I knew without doubt that to succumb would be woe and further my ruin.
"No, that cannot be my end," I whispered to the darkness, fervently praying my words would be true. It was pain to speak, but I sought to break free from the delusions. "That cannot be my end," I whispered again.
A tumble of rocks behind me distracted me from my tedious recitation. When I turned to see, I noted how far I had burrowed into the cave. Yet, I writhed into the corner more, yearning for a deeper hiding place as menace and dread swallowed the poignant air surrounding me.
Not yet a half hour since I climbed into the cave, the darkness within had come to life, dancing in glee at my torture. I contemplated abandoning the cave, yet noted dejectedly that I had no other hiding place. In a desperate bid to retain my fragile grasp on my convictions, I stayed burrowed in the cave as images of humans engaging in life's daily activities distorted into bodies without essence, hollowed and lifeless, laying beside a rejoicing vampire.
Disdain and thirst clogged my throat, and I shut my eyes tightly to ward off my despairing thoughts and pain. Wrapping my arms around my body, I huddled even further away from the terror invading the hollow grotto, but my affliction wore on. Quietly, I moaned my loss of ability to sleep, my humanity, and most of all, my connection with God. Had I still such a connection, I was certain He would not have forsaken me and denied me death and freedom from this condition.
Again, I thought how logical it seems that death would be the means to regaining all I had lost. Not only would I be free from my physical torments, I would also be rid of my terrifying depravity.
I glanced around once more, wondering if I had overlooked a means to my demise. All around me were bare walls. And for a moment, I thought about pushing strong palms against the back of the cave. With enough pressure, perhaps I could be buried beneath the mountain. If only I dislodged enough of its foundations, could that tumbling mountain bring me my reprieve? Except, I knew the truth as clearly as day, that it would be as futile an attempt as all the others I had tried. There was simply no escaping this curse I had become.
With a ragged sigh I settled back in my corner. Even if I was indeed cursed, I swore never to forget who I am.
It had not quite been a year now since I begged my father for his blessings to join the town's healers. Encouraged by my mother's smile in her fading portrait, I had found myself helping at the town's medical center every Tuesday after my studies at the local college. My passion for assisting in mending sore and worn bodies had increased then, until I knew without doubt it was my mission.
My aspiration to nurse others back to health had remained unabated through my transformation and it now strengthened my resolve to hold on to my last shred of humanity and compassion for others. I had to avoid committing a sin more terrible than any I could imagine and this knowledge helped me to hold on to my sanity.
Ignoring the raging desire I felt was no easy feat, though. My whole body begged for nourishment and threatened to consume me if I did not succumb to the call of blood—to murder.
Even besides my intense loathing for such an end to any being, I was also appalled by the callousness of a thinking reasoning creature of any kind taking another man's life. Further convinced of myself, I vowed not to fall to this temptation!
With renewed vehemence, I stood and stamped my feet into the ground. The large rocks forming the cave's solid floor crushed to dust beneath me. Still, I dug my heels forcefully into the crumbling stone surface as if forging yet another path to Hades.
Ankle deep in the gaps I had created, I waited as night cloaked the earth and brought with it the changes that had once been most fascinating to me. After my transformation however, it seemed the darkness had lost the mysteries it held before.
As a human, nothing had ignited my imagination more than night's secrets and mysteries, waiting for discovery by daylight – if only daylight was quick enough to catch them. Through my new pair of eyes from my place in the cave, however, I saw only an unchanging landscape, bereft and lonely, and most assuredly, without mystery. For, I could see as clearly as if there had been no change in the day.
Slowly squatting in the corner to enable a broader view, I perused the night intently, keeping my senses scanning miles around for any sign of danger; any approaching people.
Such was this curse—even if not yet to humanity, it was to me—to be turned into a creature with keen senses that neither withered nor waned. Even in my quiet surroundings I had no peace of mind. My sense of smell reached out for miles, as did my hearing, picking up sounds of ruffling feathers and little creatures laying down to sleep.
As I could do little to control its shrewd accuracy, I stayed alert, and praying desperately that my eager watchfulness would not become my undoing. My hands clenched tightly at my sides, careful not to touch my burning throat, lest by mistake I flee down to the small town in the valley and fall to my doom more rapidly. Nevertheless, my eyes watched most intently as darkness began to slide across the sun-beaten sky—and they watched zealously.
There was not much to see. Even in the darkness, the bereft land stretched for miles, as did the sea. Yet, void as all the world seemed, my eyes drew in every slight wrinkle in the fabric of the night, and my ears paid heed to the minutest sound in a desperation of both wanting and dreading.
If this was to be my end, then had fate willed it to be so from my beginning? Had it deemed it befitting that my birth be the cause to end my gentle mother's life? Perhaps that had been the evil portent that had meticulously led me through the very paths that brought me into this cave today. If from the beginning, my poor mother had been able to withstand death's icy grip and continued to live, would I be here at this time?
It was also irony that I should end up a creature so vile, neither living nor dead, and seemingly indestructible—to become one of the very beings toward which my father bore a vehemence so extreme it resulted in the loss of many innocent lives was perhaps laughable. Although, it seemed, was much more than a mere coincidence, as well.
It was also, without doubt, a punishment. One I had to bear for my inability to dissuade my father from his ruthless public burnings. I had always known it was my responsibility to save the lives that he had publicly declared inhuman, evil and deserving to be burned at the stake, but I had merely stood aside and done nothing, even though my conscience had railed against it all.
But, how could the very condition he abhorred assail me – the son of a preacher man?
Had God forsaken me so much for my disobedience, that I should suffer this torment for eternity?
Stakes and crosses had not worked to rid me of this curse. Nothing, it seemed, could end my life. In anguish, I fell forward to the cave floor, murmuring my apologies for all my mistakes into the rocky ground. Fading memories of my many sins crawled over my frozen heart dredging back my old remorse got them at the same time as cruelly repeating those moments I most lamented in vivid clarity behind my shut eyelids,
It must have been the lustful lures that took hold of me when I failed to turn away from the sight of the mayor's young daughter swimming unclothed in the warm tributary of the Thames. She had thought herself well concealed behind the tall bushes at the river bank, stepping into the water with her long wavy hair, the color of the sun, cascading like a cloak behind her. My first glance at her had been fleeting, but my failure to curb the raging imaginations my adolescent body craved had been my sin.
Though there also was that day, the day I tiptoed carefully into my father's room to steal a shilling for the new book the town's crier had so enticingly pointed out at the market. Knowing how curious about life I was, he had spoken about its signed accounts of a newly discovered world west of ours. He had attested to hours of reading great adventures of hunters who sought out the land's abundant resources, and I had been much too captivated by said wonders to desist from acquiring a copy.
Spellbound and thoughtless of the consequences of my actions, I had ignored my pounding heart while I clandestinely pilfered the exact amount required for the book out of my father's pouch and hastily made for the stall where it remained on sale. Gordon had meekly reminded me of my wrong that day, but I had set my eyes fixedly on the promise of wealth and freedom the book contained and had pushed away the pangs of guilt I felt.
While I had still been engrossed in the living pages of adventure, strife, and war between traders and aborigine, my father had asked me my knowledge of his dwindled reserves. Conceiving no way to explain my action, I had lied as persuasively as I could about having no such knowledge. Yet, inside, my conviction had grown louder, racing as though with hooves to trample my deceitful heart.
A new and different flame blazed deep in my chest at the extent of my disobedience, remembering Gordon's calm voice of reason when I had first proposed a nightly expedition to find the real creatures that my father over-enthusiastically pursued.
"How will this help, Carlisle? And how will we be able to tell who a real vampire is?" his gentle voice had conveyed his concern, his apprehension showing in his intent gaze. "Are these creatures not extremely dangerous?"
"Perhaps, Gordon, but will we sit by and watch my father burn more innocents? Do not worry my friend, we'll take a couple of my father's stakes and carry the large crucifix beside my mother's portrait. Father scarcely goes through that wing of our home anymore," I had replied.
He had nodded his understanding slowly, suddenly looking up with absolute trusting, "I will go with you, Carlisle, but we cannot let mother know. She'll be beside herself with worry and reveal our plans to your father before we have stepped a foot out onto the street."
In that jesting, we had set our plans out and sought help from other friends. Perhaps if I had heeded Gordon's worry, he would be home with his widowed mother who would not have had her only child snatched from her so cruelly.
Perchance, he could have borne many sons as he had hoped to and cherished the large family we had both dreamed of being blessed with. Having each lost a parent, we had shared our passionate hopes of building large families with good wives and many children with whom to share our lives.
And now, neither of us could achieve our dreams. I was cursed to live in eternal damnation, and he, poor Gordon, had lost his life, sprawled lifeless on the wet cobblestones in the dark of a deserted London alleyway.
How could our stakes have failed us so? How could the wooden crucifix we carried not have helped us at all? How had my father reacted when he'd been given the news that I had disappeared, or that they had found barely recognizable bodies in the pathway?
My mistakes were unforgivable indeed. And now, I had to pay the price.
Suddenly, as though a final verdict had been delivered on my soul, a loud racket of running hooves rose from the east of the cave. Standing in alertness, I shook my head to dislodge any phantoms. Believing I could have fainted in my agony, the action was meant to rouse me if it was a dream, but I knew I could not dream. I kept my eyes wide, watching for an apparition in this realm of illusion, and fighting to be free from its impending nightmare.
So, as the sound of the hooves grew stronger, and my imagination ran wilder, I cautiously stepped out of my hiding place to see for myself what had caused the cave to tremble. It could be the chariots of hell sent to take my soul. Or perhaps other vampires had been sent to seek me out and grant me my desire to die. After all, they could better suggest ways to commit suicide, could they not?
Or, it was the unending suffocation of my senses, tempered with fear, which enslaved me to my own degeneration. I was trapped in this abyss with my lungs pressed down by the constant hunger clutching at the very core of my carnality. I had no need for breath, but I was breathless with renewed apprehension. At that moment, I knew there was no escaping my future—whatever it turned out to be.
Even though night and day meant nothing to my vision, I craned my neck upward for a better view. The ground shook beneath me, the heavens seemed to roar and I could see clearly in the pitch black night. Still, I saw nothing. I prayed desperately, uttering the faint indiscernible whispers within my barren chest through my burning throat. They escaped scratchily, almost inaudibly.
My words rang as lyrics to an ancient ode. Something of a myth, it seemed, though myth could not liberate me from the terror I felt. Again I thought, it could only be the loud opening of the gates of Hades rapidly drawing close to devour me.
In a final act of surrender, I knelt on the powdery ground, heedless to the demons that crawled beneath my stony flesh. Trembling in supplication, I pleaded to be heard even if for the last time, before the raging fires engulfed me.
Somewhere beneath my confusion, I heard a voice with stark clarity whisper the word for my salvation. A single and solemn call for divine intervention poured into my yearning heart as I called out with all the intensity I could muster through my tremulous lips, "Lord!"
As though a sudden weight had been lifted from my heart, my words were smooth and clear.
"Lord, hear my petition! I find myself in the bowels of the earth, and I beg of You to reach down and rescue me. The weight of my sins has buried me below this ground, and now I am nothing before You. But You remain the Lord of host, my shield and my deliverer. Take this yoke from me, I beseech You! And deliver me not into the hands of the enemy. Instead, take my soul and make me a lowly servant in Your castle. But please, have mercy Lord, save my soul from damnation!"
Almost immediately, I felt a prickling at my neck. I looked up quickly to see a pair of eyes trained on me, wide with fright. Its gold flecked gaze pointedly stared from the tops of the cliffs where it stood rigidly; ready to take flight at the first inkling of danger to its own life.
For a moment, I wondered why it stood stock still in fear, as if caught in a trap. Then, as I rose slowly from the ground, still holding its gaze, I began to comprehend its mission. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I paid rapt heed, nonetheless, to its loud racing heartbeat.
Blood!
This was not quite what I expected, I admitted readily. But as there was no error in the wet thudding sound that emanated from the animal's chest, I agreed it was the best solution to my woes.
The young deer's blood did not smell quite as enticing as the human scents that had driven me from the city to seek refuge in the forest, but it did promise to soothe the ache in my throat. Even if only to an extent, it would ensure I did not commit a most repugnant sin.
Strength surged through me, moving me forward before my mind understood the intended situation. The deer leaped back at my sudden attack, fleeing as fast as it could into the darkened forest. I was undeterred by its flight, quickly crossing the sand and rock along the beach in three long strides.
It took equal time and effort to scale over the cliff and unto the grassy plateau atop it. Then I set to running, deftly avoiding obstacles in my way, leaping and swinging wherever it seemed best as I traced the deer's scent. All thoughts of burning chariots from the gates of hell had dissipated from my mind. I focused on one thing and only that—blood!
Within a few heartbeats, I came upon the herd of deer caught in a small clearing bordered by large trees, clearly unaware of my presence or intention. Quickly, I mapped out my strategy, aiming for the bucks and fully grown does.
Before they could sense any danger and take flight, I had landed my first buck, catching it and holding its neck down easily. With a quick word of thanks to God, and an amazed thought that just maybe He was indeed still with me, I sank my sharp teeth into the animal's neck.
Up Next: Jasper
