29. Failure
Two nights later, the vampire soul was convinced that it had wholly consumed and overcome the other part. The soul that originally inhabited the body, so far as it could tell, was quiescent, still. When prodded, it found only a silken surface, like an undisturbed lake. The prodding of the vampire soul created not even a ripple there, and so it dismissed the original soul as perhaps dead, maybe gone, but regardless; forgettable.
The body had begun to respond, and Eric's soul considered the possibility that it might not even need a Maker. The virulent, noxious presence itself was working on the body, altering it, forming it. It was able to flit into the barn and capture a chicken. No human had any such ability.
The soul experienced pleasure and triumph. The body, like the soul, was subjugated. It would bend to the will of the greater essence and with time, would become as unstoppable as the last body. The one that had lived so long that the vampire soul had so completely overcome the original soul that not a scrap of it could be found to separate away.
And from its own perspective, it had escaped none too soon, for the vampire had grown soft. He had begun to let the feelings of the human alter him. He had altered from the trajectory. An unforgivable sin in the methodical thinking of the vampire soul.
It drove the body to suck on the chicken as its life drained out, but the vampiric soul remained unquenched, unsatisfied.
"You have certainly changed," a voice said.
Arin's body turned and the vampire soul stared out through her eyes. "No. I am what I have always been and should always be. You promised to Make me."
"You did not technically kill that vampire," replied the Ancient.
"Turn me. Teach me how to eat souls," Eric's soul replied, the words falling from Arin's lips like the drip of a leaking faucet.
The fingers released and the chicken fell. It was the last one.
A chuckle. "That can not be taught. You must earn it, fledgeling."
"Turn me, and I will."
"So needy," replied the Ancient. "Why should I turn you?"
The vampire soul wanted to say that it was a vampire already. It wanted to tell him that it had stolen a soul, an ancient and powerful one, at that. Instead, it stood and tapped the fingers of one hand against its thumb and could think of nothing, as if everything had gone blank, like a placid lake or a still day.
"You will not Turn her," Eric's voice came from behind the Ancient.
"Well, well, well," the Ancient said, turning to Eric and dropping the hood of his cloak. He looked young, his face serene. Around his eyes were tattoos that must have been there before he was Made, making him look as if he wore heavy black kohl around his eyes.
"Who are you?" Eric asked.
"You may call me Anekharup, if you like," the Ancient responded. He pronounced it 'ah-neck-air-oop'.
"You are undocumented," Eric noted.
"I have been undocumented for thousands of years before you even existed."
"Arin was right," Eric said.
The vampire soul noticed a ripple. Only a ripple... on the surface of the ice-smooth lake of the dead soul. It subsided, and the vampire soul returned to the conversation.
"It matters little. No one will believe her. Human minds are easy to control. Vampires... I grant, they are harder. Vinciente's foolishness in trying to kill her was most unexpected and uninvited. It was nice of you to do the dirty work in killing him for us. And I thank you, as well, for keeping her alive."
Eric looked surprised.
Anekharup chuckled. "Do you not understand? Death would have given her validity. No one listens to the living."
"You do not drink blood?" Eric asked it as if he didn't believe it.
The vampire soul in Arin smiled. Eric was a fool.
"I no longer have need of blood," Anekharup replied. "Enough chatter," he said then. "You really don't need to know any of this anymore." He turned to Arin and his fangs clicked out.
Unexpectedly, out of nowhere, the vampire soul found Arin's voice stating, "You are vulnerable while you feed. Don't you think that you should start with the thousand year old vampire, not the mere human?"
His hand darted out and Arin was lifted off of the ground. "How do you know that?"
The vampire soul had to subside. It did not know the answer and could not think quickly enough to come up with one, but it hissed and snarled as the puny Arin soul responded. "I watched while you killed my parents. You made the same mistake everyone always does. You thought that since I was autistic, I couldn't hear, wouldn't speak, and did not have the wits to understand you."
"Ah, I remember you." He twisted her head to look her over. "Quite a change, I must say." Then he pondered for a moment. "No, I definitely think that you are the more dangerous one. Anyone who could fool me when she was just a child is not someone I am willing to let live. I will never make that mistake again."
He opened his mouth, and the vampire soul lost control and panicked. It fought for control, believing in its arrogance that it could defeat even this ancient being. As Anekharup began to suck in a breath, blue tendrils of light stretched out from Arin's body and she went rigid.
Eric didn't waste the opportunity that Arin's words had afforded him. When Anekharup began to feed, Eric flitted forward... only to find his neck grasped by the older, more powerful vampire, who stopped feeding long enough to turn and murmur to him, "So predictable."
He now held one body in each hand. Eric fought to reach him anyway, and he laughed.
During Eric's distraction, though, his soul also seized the opportunity. Nothing was working out as Arin had hoped. The Ancient was supposed to feed on Eric first, and she was to grasp the chance to kill him. Because Eric's soul was in her, he would not lose it because she could give it back after Anekharup was dead.
But Eric's vampiric soul did not care. It didn't believe that Arin could pull it off, and so it fought for dominance. On the mortal plane, but an instant passed. On the level of souls, though, a titanic battle raged. The vampire soul believed it fought for its life.
Arin knew she fought for its life. If the vampire soul was in control when Anekharup fed, Eric would die. So she fought the ancient soul with the whole of her being. She fought with the strength of her love. She fought with the iron will that she had gained through fighting emotions too deep and too powerful to live with without it.
She fought. She struggled. She strove.
She lost.
