Chapter 21

A fly was his only companion down there. Lying on his back, he stared at the white wall above him and traced the flight of his companion in the peripheral corner of his eyes. From somewhere above him came soft noises through the masonry – church singing, laughter, fighting sounds... If he had wanted it, he could easily have perceived everything that was going on in the church above him and on the outside. But he did not care. He had damped all his thinking and emotions. He had made a decision and said goodbye to the world.

When he closed his eyes he saw his children in front of him. He had also bit them farewell in his own way, and he felt peace in the idea that he had been able to damp the bonds he had with his son and daughter to the point where they would not find his demise painful. If he had not damped his emotions, he might have felt a deep sorrow now. He had spent more than a thousand years with his Eric. Out of boredom, because he could not do anything down here, except watching the fly, he mentally relived Eric's first vampire years. Without realizing it, a small smile stole itself into the corner of his mouth. But he did not feel the anticipated feelings that usually overcame him as soon as he thought of his son, and he was grateful for that. For the first few centuries of his cursed life, he had never thought he would ever feel anything like friendship, attachment, companionship, or even love for another being. But this rough-legged warrior from the north had taught him better. Eric had brought back the laughter and the joy into his undead life.

He had truly been a dark creature of the night, and even today he was sure that he had earned neither Eric nor Nora, and especially not… her. All of a sudden, his body contracted where his heart had beaten so many, many years ago. He was not allowed to think about her! But even now his own thoughts betrayed him again. How many times had he wondered what had happened? How could a beautiful but basically normal young woman have sneaked into his heart and mind, so that her sudden death had crushed him so devastatingly? Was it her naive friendliness to him? Or her persistent attempts to persuade him to have more fun? Or-

Again he felt a very painful sting in his chest and quickly pushed the thoughts of her away. He had found no answer to this one question in the last months and would not be able to do it anymore. Because for an answer he would have to think about it intensively and recall every single one of their encounters. And he knew he could not do that. It was just too painful and he did not want to do that. The rest of the few nights he just wanted to lie in peace in this basement cell and wait for the end.

What would it be like to burn? Would it be a consuming pain on his skin to which he could then add his own internal pain, enabling him to scream everything off his soul? Or would he already be as dead inside as his outer shell, so that he would not feel anything at all? He did not know what he would prefer. But it basically did not matter. One last time he would see the sun without a screen or modern technology that always falsified its beauty. Once again feeling the heat on his skin... and then it would be over. What came after the true death – if anything came after that at all – he did not know. But he was not afraid of it; he only hoped that God would somehow be able to forgive him for his countless atrocities.

It would not take long to burn, he was sure of that. Due to his age his body was very susceptible to the sunrays and that was a good thing for a small part of his consciousness was worried that if he had enough time to give in to his painful hunger, he would attack the people who would watch the spectacle of his true death. How many days he had been here he did not know anymore; but there were a few. The humans had kept away from him as expected and had offered him no TruBlood. That, too, had to be expected. But it surprised him a little, how much his hunger in the meantime consumed him and whispered to him to pull these definitely not sturdy bars from its hinges, storm into the service and sink his fangs into the first neck he could find. Oh yes, the dark beast in him was still strong. But he would not be himself if he let his feelings and instincts prevail over his actions. Only once since his days as Death had it happened that his beast had come out. If humans had been in his house that morning when he was awakened by the sudden excruciating emptiness around his undead heart, they would not have survived. Only vaguely could he remember the hours of blind pain, destroyed furniture and Eric's desperate attempt to reach him. He had not had a drop of blood since that day and he knew that was more than risky for the humans around him. But his mind was now too dulled, as that he had the urge to even stand up. His limbs felt as heavy as lead and held him safely on the ground. And he wanted to do nothing to the humans, but rather commit himself to the ever-growing pain in his bowels. In his eyes, that was an appropriate punishment for all his sins and that he had not been able to help and save her.

The humans were safe and his existence would soon be over – everything was as it should be. Still as he had been since when he had entered these basement cellars a few nights ago, he closed his eyes again and let the pictures of Eric and Nora flow over him unhindered. The sun had just set and it should be a peaceful night again. Sometimes a choir rehearsal took place above him, whose melodies reached him and shortened his time until the next sunrise.

But this time he heard no singing, but a distant scratching. Like, as if sharp claws were pulled over glass. Apparently, a cat had lost its way here and wanted to break into the basement. He was sure that this animal would soon give up and move on. But the more time passed, the more energetic the scratching became and hurt his sensitive ears. Then it suddenly stopped, and he wanted to sigh with relief. But then he felt something strange – as if the air was changing around the basement window that his attention had been drawn to. He heard a faint click and a short, quiet laugh that sounded victorious. The laugh sounded vaguely familiar to him, but before he could think it over, he felt another change in the air and heard the soft squeak of the hinges as the window moved obviously open. Immediately, he heard the gentle putting of paws on concrete and wondered curiously what a cat hoped to find here. This animal made him curious and deep inside himself he felt the urgent need to follow the cat with his senses. Where did this need suddenly come from?

With his eyes still closed, he sat up in an almost sweeping motion and continued to focus on the gentle footsteps of the four paws. The animal was now in the corridor outside his cell room and he did not know if he should wish that it should come in. He knew the door was not locked. To what purpose would that be good anyway? The Newlins knew that he was here voluntarily and wanted to meet the sun. So there was no reason to lock the door. Anyway, such a simple door lock would not have stopped him if he had wanted to escape.

Out of nowhere he suddenly had the saying 'curiosity killed the cat' in his mind, and with a bitter smile, he decided to have a little bit fun one last time and see why this cat interested him. She always had wished him fun at work and in his life, and this would be his last active act in the world. He would take this last encounter to his true death, as a last memento of her...

Outwardly completely unmoved, he spread his aura towards the door and crushed the lock cylinder, causing the door to open inwardly a crack. Now the cat could come to him if it wanted to take that direction. And indeed; after the gentle steps had paused for a moment as he opened the door for the animal, it now literally jumped into the room. Still with his eyes closed, he pushed the door close again with his aura and then raised his head to open his eyes.

But standing in front of him, right in front of the bars, looking at him with the most intense cat-eyes he had ever seen, was not an ordinary domestic cat. The animal in front of him was squat like one, yes, but on the one hand, the long tail betrayed that it could not be one. And the silvery cloud-like drawings on the fur confirmed his immediate suspicion that the animal was one of the extremely rare species of the clouded leopard. Motionless sitting cross-legged he looked at this beautiful animal with a great sense of awe. At the same time, the feeling was now coming to the forefront with all its might, which is why he had been watching the cat at all. A warm yearning... a soft whisper...

'Could it be possible?'

His body was frozen, but his mind suddenly moved with a rapidity that would have made a human dizzy. The animal started moving again in that moment, pushing its slender body straight through the bars, while he almost desperately tried to see in its eyes if...

The short laugh in front of the basement window came back to his mind, and he felt how a soft, rapidly growing hope flooded him abruptly and completely. Slowly, he reached for the clouded leopard with his right hand and barely ventured to ask the question he had in mind.

"Who are you?"