The war is over! The sounds of cheering and angry denial filled the air like nothing I had ever heard before. I wandered around for the longest time, just looking at the desolation this war had caused. The creepiest thing for me is the blood; staining the ground, painting the buildings, spotting the stones and mingling with the rain to color the streams and grasses. I see places where the vague outline of a body can be seen amidst a particularly large stain, but no bodies. Never any bodies. They all have changed, in some way or another. It was the eeriest thing I had ever seen.
The word spread like wildfire; there were gunshots heard in the Von Helson manor. Lord Vladimir had fallen. Zhivago and the Von Helson sisters had vanished. Edmund, Ian and Louie were seen fighting and bringing this to pass. Louie had been charged with keeping the vampire line alive. Everywhere humans were celebrating, waving their weapons aloft, doing macabre dances, and some were even continuing to hunt for just a few more vampires. The vampires themselves were either giving themselves up to be administered the cure or were fleeing to various places of hiding, refusing to the last to give up the way they had so easily adopted. There was apparently no word of the two who had been held captive in the dungeons; everyone's guess was that they had been found and rescued.
I walked along slowly, marveling at the newfound quiet. Many Gaians have already gone back to their regular lives, beaming and gloating over their prizes, their newfound glory and fortune. Humans and vampires were already beginning to mingle as though they had never been at war. The battlefield was deserted save for a few lingering groups who talked among themselves and spat curses at the Mauds for having their words come to pass so quickly. Still others found the sudden peace too boring, and once they learned that the cure wouldn't be running out anytime soon, they happily continued as though it were a game; get bitten, get cured, repeat. I can only imagine how wrecked their bodies are going to be once the cure finally does run out and they have to cease.
I found myself once again walking toward the Von Helson manor; my arms were too sore from the night before to do much flying, nor did I really feel like flying much. At that moment it felt too much like playing with a grand present that I didn't deserve to have.
As I walked along the bridge, I could see the doors to the manor, and I found myself stopping, my mouth open in disbelief. Even from this distance I could make out the glint of the sun on his glasses and the stiff way that he stood. Edmund was there, out in the open, and he appeared to be...handing out the cure. He was in the one-time heart of the vampire's dealings, and he was handing out the cure. Just looking at him made the left part of my head thump out silent curses to him and his infernal sword handle. I felt my fists clench, but almost at once my hands relaxed again. I sighed and let the budding anger within me wither and die. My feet began to move, but this time it was in the direction I had come. I felt as though a part of me had been left behind, and I knew that I would not be going back to that particular part of Gaia for a long, long time.
I have gone into hiding like many of my kind, though not all together. There are some among my circle of friends who have also decided to embrace their immortality; Emerald remains a vampire, as well as a few others. I am at ease among them, even though I knew at least one of them was out there fighting vampires with a will and crying out righteously for our blood to be spilled. The war has passed, and Gaia is at peace again.
But though the world is at peace, I am not. I still find myself plagued on some nights when my mind wanders and prevents me from sleeping. What actually did happen that day when the war came to such a speedy end? Why has Ian not returned to his shop? Where did Zhivago and the Von Helson sisters vanish to? And what became of Gino and Liam? So many questions have gone unanswered. Am I the only one who really cares? Sometimes I wonder.
I still like to spy on Edmund, though I am unsure why. I know it isn't revenge, because I don't feel any kind of anger at him for doing what he did. Maybe I have grown to like the habit of watching him as he goes about doing his part to bring Gaia back to the way it was before. Maybe I am hoping he will lead me to some of the answers I seek. Maybe I am seeking out forgiveness for betraying him. Maybe something in my brain fizzled when he hit me that one night. Forgive me, Edmund, and thank you; whenever my head aches, I'll think of you.
Edmund stared at that last page for a long time, though there was no more writing to be found on it. His tea had long since gone cold, and it was still as full as it had been when he had poured it. The fire had burned low; he had given it little attention, stoking it only when it gave enough light to read by.
He slowly closed the book, a small puff of battle-fouled air rising from it and reaching his nostrils. He stared at the worn cover, picturing how each and every stain and tear had happened in the midst of a week of war. It was like going through it again, only everything had changed. He still didn't agree with the vampire's views, and he admitted to himself that more than once he had paused from his reading and contemplated throwing the book into the fire. But as he continued to stare at the book's unremarkable cover, the stains and marks seemed to swirl once more, this time appearing as the face of that same red-haired vampire. He remembered her now as he had journeyed with her through her writings. He remembered seeing a splash of red out of the corner of his eye several times when he had been at the lab entrance. He remembered seeing her that night when he had been attempting to enter the manor by stealth to put an end to all the violence and bloodshed. He had thought her shamelessly drunk on blood, and he felt a small twinge of sadness; if he had known she was laughing for such an innocent reason, he probably would not have hit her so hard. He remembered almost seeing her as he had stood at the entrance to the manor; just a red speck on the bridge and then she was gone.
He tried in vain to remember her, but so many other faces crowded around, looking so similar to hers. He thought of one such Gaian; so eager to help and be a part of the effort. He could just hear her voice on the edge of his mind. "I don't have a lot of gold now, but just you wait; I'll buy as many of those orchids as I can." But her hair had been pink then. The eyes were the same, but everything else...
Something suddenly occurred to him, and he was surprised that he hadn't thought of it until now. He had seen the vampire so many times, and every time he saw that unruly mop of red hair...there had always been a smaller blotch of purple blossoming from her chest like an ominous purple stain. He even remembered seeing it for a split second that night when she in her gleeful ecstasy had bumped into him.
All those times, she had been wearing a purple orchid.
He stared into the fire's dying flames, and a word half-emerged from his mouth. "Alam...?"
A sudden small flash of pinprick light shone in the corner of his eye. He turned to the window just in time to see a small black bat fall backwards and vanish from sight. He had no doubt how long that creature had been there, nor who it was.
He stared once more at the small book, contemplating. "Forgive me..." He walked over to where he had hung his sword and stared thoughtfully at the handle, which sported a small dent on one side. "Forgive me..." He turned and walked over to his writing desk, and after a bit of rummaging found a pen. He opened the book to the very last page and wrote in his neatest and most elaborate handwriting, "You owe me a new sword handle."
He then walked over to the window, opened it, placed the book on the window ledge, closed the window and stood back. He had barely turned around when he heard a chorus of scratches and leathery whaps against the glass as the bat flew up and clumsily snatched the book in its claws. It flew off into the woods, struggling to stay aloft as it held tightly onto the book. He watched it vanish, waited a moment, then opened the window again and stared out into the night. At first there was the same peaceful silence. Then somewhere close by, he heard laughter ringing out from the trees, the same kind of laughter he had heard that night when...
He felt himself smile in spite of himself. Vampires could still laugh. They could still feel regret. They could even determine their own sense of morality. Maybe a peaceful coexistence was possible after all.
