Disclaimer – See chapter one
Second Rebirth
The solid click of the door shutting set me off at a feverish pace. I nearly broke the decanter in my haste to set it down and it made an awful rattling sound on the floor. I lifted my wrist to my mouth and hurriedly chewed open a vein, letting the dark liquid rise swiftly to the surface, I laid my wrist against her mouth. At first it just settled on her lips, and I was afraid she was too far gone, but all at once her eyes flew open and she latched onto my wrist with greedy mouth and hands, sucking my substance deep inside. Before she could have more than a couple of mouthfuls I pulled my hand away and licked my wrist, closing the wound.
She glared at me with resentment that changed in the blink of an eye to confusion that was rapidly descending into horror. "Leonard! Mon Dieu! What, what did you just – you fed me – " Her voice faded as her mind sought to understand what she had just done.
"I've just given you a little time my angel. You had to be alive for me to save you."
"Save me? But how? By drinking your blood! Len do you have any idea what you are saying?"
I nodded, smiling ruefully, "Oh aye, I do my dearest. And I've made up my mind that you are not going to die tonight."
She searched my face and saw, I thought, for the first time, what I really was. Finally my too pale skin, my nearly red lips, my strangely glassy eyes, and the overriding factor that I looked no different than the day she and I had met nearly ten years ago. Her eyes fastened on my wrist where not one mark, not one drop of blood could be seen, and then she licked her lips, no doubt tasting the last of the blood I had just fed her. Satine was no stranger to the taste of blood for she had doubtless been consumptive for upwards of six months. With very careful treatment and gentle, clean living a consumptive person can live for years with the disease. But living as she had been, in the dank cellars of the Moulin, drinking heavily, using her voice constantly, she shouldn't have lived as long as she had. Love really is a powerful force.
But not powerful enough. Even as she tried to make sense of what was happening, I could see her breathing becoming labored again. Watching her lying there, still beautiful, her rich hair spread about her, her blue eyes bright, I thought of another woman I'd seen in this position, long ago. Perhaps that woman is the reason I have manipulating the lives of my sister's descendants for nearly 500 years. Christian is not the first young man to fall completely in love with the wrong sort of woman; I too once lost my heart to a member of the oldest profession.
Like Satine, Matilda was both a prostitute and an actress. And like her, Matilda was beautiful and strong – intelligent enough not to want to live her life as a humble nobody, while at the same time knowing what the life she had chosen would do to her eventually. Her living conditions were even worse than Satine's and I did not yet have the means to give her something better. Still, she always had a smile for me and even when she was injured from a brutal customer, or near collapsing with exhaustion, she could make light of her situation. When she was hurting the most she was able to make me laugh. I loved her with all my heart.
Love of Matilda drove me to build my wealth. I chose victims for their money and invested it or bought property with it. And while I built my fortune, I protected her the best I could by destroying any and all of her customers that dared to raise a hand to her. It didn't help one bit in the end, I simply was not fast enough, or my vigilance lapsed at just the wrong moment. I went to see her one Sunday night knowing that this was her slow night and we would have plenty of time to spend together. When I opened the door, the scene before me was the stuff of nightmare. There was Matilda, hanging from the arms of her last customer, the man who had nearly finished beating her to death. Her nose was broken, blood covered the bottom half of her face, one arm hung at an odd angle, limp and useless, but the worst of all was the way she was clutching her middle with her good arm, the internal injuries would be the cause of her death.
Anger consumed me. I leapt forward and snatched her from his arms, laying her gently on the bed that I only now realized looked too much like the one Satine lay on before me, that I choked back a sob aloud. I whirled from Matilda to seize her murderer by the throat and lift him off his feet, carrying him to the other side of the room, and slamming him against the wall.
"This how ye git yer pleasure eh? Swiving the lass is no good enough, ye mun beat 'er to death after?" I never knew which horrified the man more – the sight of my blazing eyes and vicious fangs, or my atrocious accent. It didn't matter; he never got a chance to tell me. I squeezed my hand, smiling hatefully up at him, until the bones in his neck snapped. A person does not always die from a broken neck, and it was so with this man. Suddenly paralyzed, he was still conscious and so he knew the manner of his death as it happened. I brought my other hand up and using my fingernails, tore out his jugular in one mighty slash. Blood fountained from the wound and I drank my fill as the light faded from his eyes. Or rather, I should say, as the darkness of his soul became visible to all. In all of my long life, his is the death that I regret the least.
When I felt him die, I dropped his carcass on the floor and turned back to my battered Matilda. Kneeling beside her I gently cupped her cheek, blotting the blood from her nose with my handkerchief.
"My darlin' are ye bad hurt? Tell me lass, should I be fetchin' a doctor to ye?" I hadn't any medical knowledge of my own yet and had no way of knowing then that I myself could partially heal her.
Her eyes were glassy with pain, but that didn't hide the fear in them, "Len, you – you killed him! You drank…dieu no…"
"He nearly killed you mah love! What else was ah suppose ta do?" It was a poor excuse, I knew that, but what else could I say? "Lass ah'm sorry, ah shouldnae…"
She cut me off, "Not drink his blood! Len, what – " She raised her good hand and touched the corner of my mouth, pushing back my upper lip to reveal the sharp teeth, "You're not a – please no! – You're not a vamp-"
I jerked my head away, "No! I-I-I dinna know!"
Matilda opened her mouth to say something else, but it was lost in a rattling cough that brought up blood. I had seen injuries from fights and brawls before, and I had seen men who had been kicked in stomach die from it. Leaning back, I quickly loosened her bodice and slid it up to expose her abdomen. The bruising had already begun to form, and there were odd swellings and soft spots. It could be hours, it could be minutes, but the woman in my arms was already dead. Gently, I wiped the blood away from her mouth and then bent to kiss her cheek. Even in her weakened state she was able to turn from my lips.
"Go, go away. You are…you are a monster." Tears welled in my eyes, not just from sorrow, but also from surprise. I had no idea I could still be hurt so badly.
"Please, Matilda, dinna say tha'! Ah love you, ah'm sorry. Ah wanted to tell ye, but ah thought ye'd be afraid."
"And you were right." She pushed me away weakly, "Go, begone foul creature!"
If my heart had not been dead before, her words killed it, for I felt it shrivel up into an empty husk at that moment. I stood up, letting her go gently and whispered, "You could – could come wit' me…Ah could make, could change ye…" Her eyes opened fully for the last time and she stared at me in horror.
"You would make me a creature like yourself? Was that your plan all the long? Worm your way into my heart so you could change me into a demon companion for yourself? You fiend! Never! I shall never-" Her diatribe ended with a sickening cough that literally tore her insides to shreds. "Neverrr…" Her eyes rolled back in her head and her body arched up in a tight curve of pain for the space of a heartbeat. Then she relaxed; her last breath bubbling out of her along with a froth of blood and the life vanished from her limbs.
I could do nothing. Standing there, frozen, I knew I had failed completely. Not only had I been unable to protect her, but I had lost her forever by showing her what I was. How much time passed I cannot say, but at last some part of me realized that time was passing and forced me to move. Slowly I went to her and closed her eyes with one trembling hand. Then I pulled a blanket from the end of her bed and covered her with it. I froze again, just for a moment to look at her face, the face of the only woman I had ever loved, then I laid the blanket over it and never looked at it again.
Now I saw the same horror on the face of my darling Satine, and the heart that she and Christian had slowly reawakened froze and whimpered, terrified that it would be broken once again. But the thought of my nephew gave me courage. My sister's family was what kept me sane through all the long years of my existence. I would not let this happen. He would not suffer as I had. This young love would not die.
"Yes Satine, that is exactly what you are going to do. It is the only way you can go on living. It is the only thing that will save Christian."
That did the trick. "Christian! What are you talking about? He's not sick! He can't die, he has to go on…"
"Without you?" I shook my head. "Maybe for a while, a few months, but he won't make it. I heard his cry when he thought you were dead. If jealousy could drive him mad, what will your death do to him?"
She whimpered and tears ran down her cheeks, "But Len, I can't consent to this! H-he wouldn't want me to chose this…" I could see her wavering, but I knew what the guilt would do to her if she said yes.
"Then don't say yes Satine. It is too late to argue about it anyway, the choice is made for you." She opened her mouth to deny me, but I didn't let her. I was holding her already and she was terribly weak. I tightened my hold on her waist with one hand, and with the other, cupped the back of her head to tilt it back, exposing her neck to my teeth.
I've said before that my victims are those who deserve death, or those who are close to it. Satine was indeed close to it, but she did not deserve it, and such victims are rare for me. She resisted at first, by she had grown so feeble, that it was easy to hold her down. When I had drained her just to the point of death, I pulled away, gently kissing the wound I had made, closing it as though it had never been, and again bit into my wrist to feed her my altered blood. She tried to turn away after the first few drops had passed her lips, but she was still too far gone to resist and I pressed my wrist tight to her mouth. Just when I felt she might actually deny me my victory, her hands suddenly clawed into my arm and she sucked on the wound for all she was worth.
I pulled away just in time. She was just sinking down into that near-death state that one enters before the change is complete, and I had pulled my sleeve over my wrist as the door slammed open and Christian arrived with the doctor. The man went directly to Satine and I stood, taking two steps back and holding Christian's arm to give the doctor room to work. Of course, it did no good.
"I'm sorry mousier, Mademoiselle Satine is gone."
Christian's face crumpled in on itself and he clutched my arm. "Nooo! Uncle, you said…she can't be…"
"I'm sorry my boy, there was nothing any one could do."