Here be chapter two...

Not a lot to say about this sucker... Chp. 9 for Of the Wicca is almost done. I'm going to think about it before I go to sleep, so I might be able to formulate the dialog in my sleep. Nifty trick, that. I recommend it to all the writers out there.

Wander in Winter is givng me some grief. That one might take me a little while...

Thanks to those who reviewed! Just to clear up any confusion, that first chapter was supposed to be a bit rushed; I was trying to make it seem like the guy (Who is he? Well, you shall see... BWA) was completely drugged up and therefore wouldn't really be thinking things through (clearly, since he used a needle he found in the trash...). It was also just to set the scene and to give a little insight to the reader. I hope that makes sense... I've developed a habit of confusing my readers. As I write it, it all makes perfect sense to me cause I have the whole story in my head. That is something I must work on... u.u

Love you all-

Pax
London, 2005

Since my last awakening, I rarely dreamed. It could only make sense that way, I suppose, for I had been reduced to nothing more than bone and ash. One would assume that such remnants hardly dreamt.

My state did not remain, however. As time past, my body began to slowly reform itself. I had no conscious role in this restoration; vampiric bodies do not require the presence of mind to heal. Indeed, I thought it very strange that my possessors had not considered this when they locked me away in that accursed vault. Surely they must have known I would not continue on as dust.

I cannot say how long it took for me to become whole once again. Perhaps months. Perhaps years. I will never know. But once I again resembled a human form, the visions began. Not of Christ, the one I betrayed; not of Mary, the one who betrayed me; of another. A faceless, nameless mortal soul the existed in the world. A faceless, nameless mortal soul in whose veins my blood ran.

Could Mary have born a child? There was a possibility, yet somehow I doubted she would. She knew full well what was mingled with the human fluid that ran beneath her skin. Me. Through her father's foolishness, I lived on within her. She would not risk another being created with the umbra of Dracula as part of them.

Yet I was confident there was a vessel the contained a part of myself walking about the wide world. I was not yet strong enough to see, but I felt them with my every breath. And with their existence came hope.

I have searched for centuries for one not bitten, but born.

And now one such being lived. I had to become strong once again. I had to escape from my metal prison. I had to find the creature with my blood. And I had to possess them.

Louisiana, 2005

The night was warm, as were many in the muggy hours of darkness in Baton Rouge. Aside from the quietly chirping crickets and the drone of my air fan there was no sound. Feeling hot and damp from perspiration, I kicked off my blanket, rolling onto my back. But now the sweat on my skin made me too cold. Groaning, I pulled just the linen bed sheet back up and squeezed my eyes shut. I had work tomorrow; I needed to get some sleep…

Settling on my left side, I sighed; the cool breeze from the fan was hitting my body perfectly when I laid like this. Slowly a doze worked its way over my mind and I fell into a dream.

I was in a dark tunnel. I was freezing; looking down I realized I was still in my pajamas, a pair of light shorts and a t-shirt. A light flickered at the end of the passageway. Moving toward it, I rubbed my hands together, seeking warmth. It was a torch. My eyebrows raised; what was this place? There was a pair of wooden doors to my right, sheltered by a large metal crucifix and bound with chains. I felt drawn to them, despite the fact that I knew I'd never be able to move the cross; it was much too big and heavy for me to shift.

With one hand, I grazed my finger tips over the cold, tarnished surface. Something was hidden behind it; I could not explain why, but I longed to see whatever the doors concealed. My rational side pointed out that I didn't even know what it was. But reason rarely prevails in my dreams.

Suddenly, the cross began to slide. I jumped back as it fell to the ground; the doors opened with a creak, but there was no one there to have moved them. Several minutes past as I stared into the room, now revealed. It was dark, not as much as the hall in which I stood. But there something within that made me turn colder than I already was.

A coffin sat silently on a rock pedestal. It was large, silver, angular, carved with runes. I was not afraid of meaning behind the sarcophagus; I was not afraid of death. It was the thing itself that frightened me. An air of anger, of an immortal malevolence hung around it like a cloud. This was not an ordinary coffin.

I wanted badly to turn back the way I had come, but I couldn't have stopped my feet and their slow advance for the world. We seldom have such control of our dreams, I've come to find. Have you ever had a nightmare about a door? Not just any door. I mean one that shields something dangerous, something that you oughtn't let out. But what do you do? Go straight forward and turn the knob. That's what I was experiencing. I couldn't help it.

There were four ornamental crosses located in a symmetric pattern on the lid; my fingers went to the one closest to the foot of the coffin. It turned, and the top swung back.

A man lay upon the gray satin; his eyes were open and they fell upon me. I backed away with a strangled cry, stumbling over my feet and hitting the ground hard as he rose from his gruesome bed. I winced; my forearm was bleeding. Looking again towards the coffin, I choked on a gasp when I saw the strange man.

He was standing at my feet.

Wake up.

I sat, petrified.

Wake up. Wake up.

He reached down, and grasped my cut arm in one hand, and brought it to his mouth. His skin was cold, like a dead person's.

Daddy, please get up…

Shivers racked my frame. My heart was racing. He licked the wound clean; looked down at me; caught my gaze.

You said you'd always be there.

The man smiled, a wide, toothy grin. His canines were long and sharp. He pulled me to my feet.

Why did you leave me?

We were face to face, eye to eye. Brown met piercing blue grey.

"Claire…" He murmured, almost too softly to be heard. I felt lightheaded; I was going to faint. The room began to dissolve. His face broke into a frown, teeth bared. One hand reached out to grab hold me.

But I was already gone.

I shot bolt upright from my laying stance, gasping. I was dripping sweat. There were tears on my cheeks; they wouldn't stop. My hands moved up to cover my face. It was a nightmare. There was a thumping on the stairs, then the door flew open. My Aunt Margot stood in the entrance, her bathrobe hanging off one shoulder.

"Claire! What on earth is the matter?"

I tried to smile, but failed. Instead, using the back of my hand, I wiped my face and replied.

"It's nothing. I'm fine."

But she wasn't so easily fooled. Straightening the collar, she sat beside me on the bed.

"It didn't sound like nothing. By the level of your scream, I thought someone had broken in and was trying to kill you."

She guided my head to one soft, tartan covered shoulder, stroking my hair.

"Just a nightmare." I whispered, closing my eyes, inhaling the comforting and familiar scent of my aunt. She always smelled dimly of oil colors and paint remover.

"I'll be alright."

"Was it about your father?"

I paused. "No."

Aunt Margot had learned to read me over the past twelve years.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

She sighed, and rose. I couldn't meet her eyes. After a short silence, she bent over and slapped my knee.

"Well, if nothing's wrong, then you'd best get your rear in gear! It's already seven thirty and you have work at nine."

I nodded, flopping back onto my bed as she left, closing the door with a soft click. His eyes haunted me. They had been so intense, so powerful…

There was a crash downstairs; Aunt Margot yelled something, no doubt at one of the cats. I smiled, despite my worries, smothering my face in a pillow, then rolling out of bed. My work outfit was hanging from the closet handle: a white voile skirt and a blue smocked blouse.

I pulled off my shorts and tank and began to dress, but as I slipped the light shirt over my head, I gasped as a sudden pain flared on my arm. Wincing and glancing down, I froze.

There was a sizeable mark on the underside of my right forearm; it was clean of blood, and was beginning to scab over. My heart pounded in my chest. Looking up, I caught the eyes of my reflection in the mirror.

I had hoped to pass the dream off as nothing more than a nightmare.

But it seemed that it wasn't.

Do you like how I just completely ripped the movie? I'm actually quit proud of my thievery. XP Now only one question remains.

Q: Why did I set it in Louisiana! Can't I be at all creative?

A: Nope. Too lazy. And besides, Louisana is the Literay and Film Vampire Story Headquarters (TM). Think about it... Dracula 2000, Interview with the Vampire, Memnoch the Devil (did that one take place in New Orleans? I'm about 92.4 percent sure, but I'm also really tired right now...)