Chapter 3

Surrender

"When do you think she will awaken?" Tomas said. He circled the stone table where Maya rested peacefully. She was dressed in a long linen tunic. Her thick curly mane fanned out like a halo around her face. Tomas extended his hand to touch it, but this time he didn't check to see if Anjel was watching.

"Tomas, stop that at once!" Anjel whispered. Tomas snatched his hand back just before he turned and joined Anjel at the table, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Tomas, you must abandon this…this obsession you have for her. She is our Priestess, our Shaman…the wife of the High Priest. If he were to find out you harbored carnal thoughts about her you would be castrated and-"

"No more, Anjel! I merely asked you a question. We are of the same rank so you speak with no authority over me. And after the acts you committed during the festival in New Orleans, you have no right to judge me!"

Anjel threw up his hands in surrender. "I yield! I yield…But in my defense, those were regular women who were high on spirits and practically begging for it. Our time was limited so having them all at once was more an exercise in efficiency than licentiousness."

They stared at each other intently for a full 30 seconds until their simultaneous laughter broke the tension. Maya took advantage of their distraction to lift her legs, testing them for movement. They felt weighted down, but she was able to raise them a couple of inches off the table. She tried her arms. They weren't as leaden as before.

This won't due. I need to get out of here. I can't wait for the spell Rowan cast to wear off.

She stilled herself and continued listening to the conversation between her captors for some means of escape.

"You know I don't mean anything by that, Tomas. You're not the first guard to lust after the priestess. I've had a carnal thought or two about her. But my fear of her quells any desires I have for her. Did you see that ball of fire she hurled at the High Priest? Sometimes I forget she's a woman when she behaves like an Orisha."

Tomas grabbed the drawstring bag of chess pieces and began arranging them on the board. "Don't speak of such things, Anjel. The High Priest and Priestess are flesh and blood as we are. The spirit of the Orishas flow through them to us for the benefit of all on this earth and even those who don't know The Way."

"I know, but there is something peculiar about her, Tomas. My foremother told me that the High Priest and Priestess have more children…not just their two sons. There was one before them…a girl...it is said that the Priestess sacrificed her to demons," said Anjel. "Maybe that's why she's been put here in the catacombs by the High Priest…as penance."

"I won't speak of such things. They are falsehoods. And if it were true, why not punish her before now? We've been down here for too long. She should have awakened by now. Let's play another round of chess. If she isn't awake by the end of our game, we should alert the High Priest," said Tomas.

"Tomas," Anjel said. He turned back and looked at Maya and then at Tomas, lowering his voice considerably and leaning in closer. The stone room was large, but the acoustics were so precise that his voice bounced off the walls even as he whispered. "I have a proposition for you…a favor to ask of you."

Tomas frowned at the way Anjel's green eyes danced, practically twinkled with excitement that Tomas knew meant trouble. Anjel played the role of the devout, compliant guard servant. Like Tomas, he was well over 6 feet tall, body rippling with muscles. There heads were clean shaven. They had taken an oath to serve and protect the priestly family forsaking their own lives. Anjel was rarely one to follow the law of their Order to the letter, but he was becoming increasingly restless in his rule breaking.

"And what might that be, Anjel, though I'm afraid to ask." Tomas pushed the chess game to the side.

"There's no need to be afraid." Anjel lowered his voice further. "I need to leave this place for a couple of hours. I prepared to depart, but when the High Priest summoned us to bring her here it threw a monkey wrench in my plans. It wasn't on our schedule for today. I had made other plans."

"You are not free to make other plans! You are a guard servant whose only job is to guard and serve. Your sneaking out and cavorting with non-followers…or anyone for matter is prohibited. It could expose our ways and bring them under peril," said Tomas.

"We will not be exposed. I am very careful about whom I chose to-"

"I'll never understand how you became a servant guard. You have no commitment or sense of calling to this way of life. You could have still followed The Way on the outside...been something else entirely…yet you try to live in both worlds. I don't understand."

"It's not for you to understand. This life was chosen for my by my foreparents. I had no say-"

"But you can take this up with the High Priestess instead of skulking around. No good will come of this. Your actions are not really hidden from the Orishas who see all-"

Let him go.

When Tomas heard the voice, he stopped short. It was of female origin.

"Did you hear that?" Tomas said.

"What? The only thing I hear is you and your judgments. If anything happens I wouldn't ask you to take any blame…"

Say yes. Let him go. Let him go.

Tomas rose from the table and walked to Maya. She looked the same as before, sleeping, yet he could hear her voice clearly.

Yes, this is your Priestess commanding you to let him go.

Tomas was consumed by fear, embarrassment, and excitement all at once. Had she heard them talking? Was she really awake? Why is she letting him go?

"Anjel, yes, you may go. I will handle things here." Tomas couldn't take his eyes from Maya.

Anjel, who had been talking the entire time, making his case, stopped and stared at Tomas who was staring at the Priestess strangely. Part of him wanted to inquire as to why, but he didn't want to risk that Tomas would change his mind. He rose from the table. "Thank you, Tomas. Remember to give her the tincture to keep her asleep. I'll be back in a few hours. I met a nice woman on the world wide web. You may have heard of the site, farmers only dot com. She is-"

"I don't care to hear the details, Anjel. Return soon, but if the High Priest asks for you…" he said breaking his gaze from Maya and looking at Anjel."

"I will be back soon," Anjel said before making a swift exit from the room.

Tomas looked at Maya. Anjel and his shenanigans were no longer registering. His thoughts were consumed with Maya. He reached for the tincture, but her eyes opened.

"Tomas…" Maya said. Her voice sounded hoarse.

Tomas gasped and dropped the tincture. It shattered on the floor. The liquid made a searing sound on the stone.

Maya sat up slowly. She reached for Tomas's hand. "Tomas, I-I need your h-help."

He let her draw him closer. Her voice sounded weak, but he knew he couldn't wrest himself from her grip, though he dwarfed her in height and weight. He didn't want her to let go. He looked into her eyes which appeared to be mahogany pools that drew him in.

"I-I-I dropped the tincture-"

"Don't worry about that. I don't need it. You have to help me, Tomas. Anjel was right on one account. The High Priest and I have a daughter. She is in immense danger and has been for a long time…seems like an eternity. I need your help to get her back."

Tomas felt himself being drawn closer to her. "Anything. I'll do anything…But the High Priest is angry…why d-d-did he put you here?"

"He is sick with grief…out of his mind with anguish. The High Priest isn't thinking straight. That's why I need you. The Orisha have chosen you to help me save her."

"Save her from what?" Tomas was beginning to feel drowsy.

"Vampires," she said. "Will you accept this call? Will you help me?"

Tomas was drowning in her eyes, having been pulled so close to her. Only several inches separated them. He knew he couldn't do anything but comply. "Yes," he whispered. Immediately he felt his mouth pull open in a mirror image to hers. His heart beat like a drum against his chest. Before he could wonder about whether she was going to kiss him, he felt the breath being sucked from him deep within him. Her irises were now whirling pools of red.

Complete contentment. This was what Olivia felt. She also felt strange, but in a manner she couldn't quite pinpoint until she remembered her dream. She saw the images in her mind, bodies melding, passion-filled cries, and flickering flames. Something rippled through her body and then she saw the image of two sharp fangs descending towards her…

Her lids flipped back and the first thing she saw were those eyes. They were no longer red, but peculiarly, the darkest grey she'd ever seen. She was on her back in bed. He sat next to her, leaning over her form as if he were waiting for her to wake up.

Am I still dreaming?

"Darling?" he said.

The sound of his voice answered her. This was no dream. Olivia followed her gut reaction. She pushed around him and ran out of bed. Before anything registered, she felt her body fly across the room, make contact with the wall and then slide to the floor. He was there beside her on the floor in an instant just as her head began to pound.

He picked her up and carried her back to the bed. That's when she realized they were both naked. "Olivia, darling, you can't make any sudden movements yet."

She was the epitome of conflicted. She wanted to get away from him, but she couldn't imagine being anywhere else. She was extremely afraid of him, but she felt safe in his arms. When she remembered him lapping at her blood, she was repulsed yet aroused.

He cradled her in his arms. "My head h-h-hurts. You threw m-m-me across the room."

"No, Olivia. You ran into the wall. You are transitioning…your body is changing. But the headache has nothing to do with that change. As long as you continue to reject the change, you will feel that pain. You are causing your pain."

No. Yes.

She grabbed her head as a fresh wave of pain overtook her. "Make it stop, please."

When he placed her on the bed, she noticed the familiar surroundings. They were in her bedroom at her apartment. The room was dark but the light from the bathroom partially illuminated the room. It felt like morning, but she wasn't sure. All she wanted was for the pain to stop.

"Darling, just surrender. Accept this."

All she could do was grab her head and beg for mercy. "Please…make...stop…help me, please."

Through her pain she saw the deep concern and grief in his eyes. "Olivia, it will be better if you stop fighting this."

A flash of anger overtook her, numbing the pain for a moment. "Accept what? I don't know what the hell you're talking about! Fuck! It hurts! Make it stop!" She moaned and writhed in pain.

"Yes, I will make it go away," he said. Fitzgerald jumped on top of her and manacled her wrists in his hands. In response to the pain, her head moved from side to side, the only part of her body not held down.

"Olivia, I'll make it stop. Look at me."

Olivia didn't immediately comply.

"Olivia! Look at me!"

Something in his voice made her still her head and look at him.

"Olivia, when the pain stops, you must stop taking it from me, okay, darling."

Her breathing was ragged now. "Stop what?"

"You must stop or…or…you'll kill me."

He opened his mouth and Olivia braced herself for a bite. But he didn't bite her. Then she caught a whiff of a most fragrant smell. She had no words to describe it. She wanted it. She opened her mouth mimicking the way he opened his. She inhaled the delicious scent. The more she inhaled the deeper she drew on him. There was an invisible band of something she was taking from him. It filled every part of her, every pore, every cell. She wanted more of this so she flipped him over onto his back, straddled him, and continued to draw this inexplicable thing. The pain was gone, but she couldn't stop.

Olivia, please stop.

She heard his voice. It was weak, thin, and far away. Olivia ignored it as the waves of pleasure rolled over her.

I love you. Please… stop.

Olivia opened her eyes and saw him. His body glistened with moisture, what she assumed was sweat. He was hot to the touch. His face was frozen in agony, his mouth was stretched open as far as it would go.

Olivia turned away, breaking the hold she had on him. She turned back to him realizing his body was stiff and rigid like a corpse but still warm.

"Fitzgerald…Fitzgerald…Fitzgerald…Oh My God…Wake up," she shook him and closed his mouth with her hand, "Please wake up. I'm s-s-orry. So sorry! Please. Please." She pleaded with him, pulling him into her arms. She rocked back and forth, comforted only by the fact that his body was warm.

Olivia

She stopped rocking when she heard his voice in her mind. She pulled his face around to see him. His irises were translucent. She closed her eyes and tried to answer back.

Yes, Fitzgerald

I am very weak, but not dead. The sun has risen. It is day. I need to sleep until the sun sets again so that my body can restore itself.

Olivia felt a rush of relief.

I'm sorry. What did I do? I don't know what is happening. I can't take this not knowing. I know you, but I don't. I…

Olivia, all will be revealed soon. Cover me with the bedclothes completely. Do not leave the apartment. Do not contact anyone. I know this is all strange for you, but you are a danger to every human you encounter during this transition. What you did to me, you'll want to do to others if you venture outside. Please just wait. I must sleep now, Olivia.

Olivia felt a faint throbbing in her head. She wanted to question him more, but she decided against it for fear of the pain returning. She opened her eyes and looked at him on the bed. A band of light from the bath room light illuminated one side of his face. When she flipped on the light by the bed, she saw him clearly. His face held none of the agony it did before. His features were slack now in a resting pose. She traced his features with her fingertips. His skin was cool to the touch and smooth as glass. She let her eyes roam over the length of him. It was as if he had been chiseled out of stone. She slowly moved from the bed and began covering him with the bedclothes.

She walked into her closet, grabbed a robe, turned off the lamp, and left the room. When she passed the hallway mirror, she gasped at her reflection. She stood there peering at the unfamiliar woman looking back at her. Olivia leaned in closer and saw her features, the woman she knew to be herself. Her face and body were essentially the same with the exception of her hair. In the last several years, she'd been wearing it chemically straightened. Byron liked it that way. Now it hung in thick waves and rested on her shoulders like a black version of Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. After taking in her face, she looked at her naked body. She had that same chiseled look as Fitzgerald. Her abdomen was absent the slight pooch she could easily hide with spanx when she wore a form fitting dress. This was her old body but it was leaner. At the same time, her body looked and felt bigger, taller somehow. Realizing she still held her robe, she slipped it on. The cloth strained against her shoulders and it stopped in the middle of her thighs, shorter than normal.

"Did I grow?" she said aloud, turning to the right and the left. She leaned forward, craned her neck to the side, and brushed her fingers over the two small holes on the rise of her neck. She turned out her leg and saw the matching set of puncture holes on the top of the inside of her thigh. A sliver of arousal rushed through her as she remembered him biting her there. Olivia's head swirled with questions and unfamiliar memories.

She needed to talk so someone so she phoned Stacia.

"Liv, I'm so glad you called. I've been trying to reach you since you left last night. Did you turn your ringer off?"

"R-r-ringer? What? Stacia, what happened yesterday evening…after-"

"You tell me, Liv. Patrick and I left you and Count Dracula in your office and that was it. Poof. When did you leave? When did he leave? Patrick was mad he didn't get to kiss the count's ass before he left. So…what happened?"

"So you didn't see me after you and Patrick left my office?"

"No, Liv. I stopped by your office. You had packed up and left. Are you okay? You sound funny. Did that guy threaten you? Are they are suing you or something...over the book?"

"No, no, no…"

"What's wrong, then?"

Olivia wanted to sit down. Instantly, she was on the sofa. "Oh…" Olivia shook her head to focus.

"Stacia…something happened…something is happening to me…I…"

"What Stacia? You've changed your mind about leaving the High Museum? You slept with Count Dracula?" Stacia laughed after throwing out the hypothetical questions.

"Yes…"

Stacia stopped laughing. "Yes, what?"

"Yes…to the second thing." Olivia could feel Stacia's eyes widening through the phone.

"What? Liv, you didn't!"

"I did…several times. He bit me…several times and I think he drew blood. He is a vampire…I think. I may be one now too. I flew across a room this morning and ran into a wall. I almost sucked the life out of him this morning so now he is sleeping to recover from it. It seems I've grown several inches and my hair is curly."

"Olivia, I don't understand anything you're saying right now. Do you want me to come over? You need to get yourself together before Byron gets in town. Marcus and I had plans today, but you are obviously in crisis. He'll understand."

"No, no, no…Stacia. I'm fine! Don't come over! I'm…going crazy with this transition…all the changes right now. Promise me!"

"Okay, Liv! I won't come over, but you need to get yourself straight before Byron gets back."

"Ok, Stace, thanks, Bye." Olivia hung up. When the phone disconnected, her mind finally registered. Byron.

It was an hour past sundown. Fitzgerald was still asleep. It had taken all her will power to stay inside her apartment. She had found a pair of jeans that fit fairly well-they were too short-and a t-shirt. During the hours of his slumber, she'd paced the length of the apartment and then literally walked up the walls. She tested out her new abilities, her powers of mind and body. She could move inanimate objects or place herself in a different place in her apartment just by thinking it. She could catapult herself across distances. After nearly crashing through a window, she stopped experimenting.

She hadn't checked on Fitzgerald in an hour. He'd been sleeping for almost 12 hours, the same amount of time she'd been caged in the apartment. Olivia opened her bedroom door and flipped on the bedside lamp. His form was visible under the covers like a statue, unmoving and static. She didn't understand why she felt such affection for what lay under the covers, but as much as she wanted to flee, she couldn't.

His coat was draped over a chair. When she noticed it, she also noticed the sound of several dings. She stood before the jacket in a second and held a intricately designed medallion in her hand. It was inlaid with a striking crystal that changed colors when she touched it. The sound grew louder, more like a pulse that vibrated. Colors flickered from the crystal projecting dazzling lights across the room as the sound grew louder. It was beautiful. Olivia couldn't stop watching the colors play across the walls. Then the pulsating stopped and the light disappeared. That's when she heard the pounding on the door.

At the door in an instant, Olivia pulled it open. The woman who stood before had eyes filled with contempt.

"What have you done with my brother?" she said before walking around Olivia and entering her apartment without an invitation.

Olivia spun around. She threw back her hand without a second thought and the door slammed behind her. This intruder was very tall, with skin like alabaster, flaming red tresses, and emerald green eyes. In many ways, she was the female version of Fitzgerald. She wore a black bodysuit, black heeled thigh boots, and a velvet cape.

"If the last twenty-four hours could get any stranger…" Olivia mumbled. "You know…I'm not answering any questions until someone explains to me what the hell is going on."

"Fitzgerald hasn't told you yet? By the looks of it you're still transitioning. I don't know how you two have survived this… so many times...I couldn't do it. You two should have given each other up to end this hell you are in."

Olivia frowned, but she felt a sense of relief at the possibility of getting answers. She walked to the sofa and sat down in the regular way. "Francesca, please sit down…wait, how...? I know you?"

Francesca sat down across from Olivia. "Yes, of course you know me. But I have to know where my brother is."

"He's sleeping in the other room. I'm hoping he will wake up soon."

"Sleeping! That's impossible…unless you siphoned him!" Francesca was standing now. "Why would he let you do that?" She sat back down. "Why am I even asking that nonsensical question. Fitzgerald would do anything for you. That's why you are so dangerous."

"Francesca…It is dangerous that I have no clue about what is happening to me. Yesterday, I was living my life and then out of no where, Fitzgerald, appeared. I don't know what I did to him, but he said I would want to do it to others…that I was a danger. So please, I beg of you, please tell me what's going on."

Francesca looked at her skeptically. "It's not my place to tell you everything, but I feel some measure of sympathy for your…plight at this juncture. I'll share the pertinent details." Francesca removed her cape and made herself comfortable on the couch.

"You and my brother have...shall I say…a history. My family was touring in New Orleans a year after that hideous blood bath of a lynching in 1891. Really it was the final act of war between the Hennessy and Piersontescu clans. My father came to spread goodwill from the elders by bringing his family…" Francesca stopped talking at the look of confusion on Olivia's face. "I'm digressing…Here are the facts. You and Fitzgerald met is 1891. Shortly thereafter you two became involved against the wishes of your mother and my father."

"Why didn't they want us to be together?" Olivia asked.

Francesca smiled. "That's your question after what I just said? You are extremely human, Olivia…even if only a hybrid…Well, to put it simply. Fitzgerald is…I am Nosferatu or maybe vampire would be the word most familiar term for you."

"That explains some things-"

"It's best not to ask questions until you have full information which I cannot give you, but you on the other hand are a witch-"

"It doesn't help to call me names-"

"Olivia, no, you are a witch, a sorcerer, a conjurer…I'm not sure what name your kind goes by now. You all are always changing your name without notice. Now…your mother tries to act as if your magic is some sort of religion, like she and your father are in some holy priesthood. I shall return to the story. When your mother found out you and Fitzgerald were involved she cast a spell on you two when you wouldn't stop seeing him. Since 1892, you've been on this cycle of death and rebirth. You die and are reborn. Fitzgerald searches for you, but when he finds you and helps you to remember him, you die. This has happened seven times since 1892. The curse ends with this time, the seventh. I am confident, though, that your mother is working on something to hurt my brother...to end him."

"How old am I? How old is Fitzgerald?"

"You are technically whatever age you are now. You've had several lives as Olivia something or other since 1892. Your first life or birth was in 1875, I think. My brother has had only one life. I'll let him tell you how old he is…significantly older than all your lives put together, though." Francesca appeared beside her on the sofa. "Olivia, I am here to ask one simple request of you."

"And what is that?" Olivia moved back to put distance between them.

Francesca managed to look gentle and nurturing. "I know this is difficult to understand. You and my brother have suffered so for over a century. I'm here to help you both end this suffering. All you have to do is-"

"Francesca, you must leave," said Fitzgerald. He was standing at the bedroom door dressed. He seemed to fill the room with his presence.

"Brother…" Francesca was in front of Fitzgerald in an instant hugging him. "You're restored and awake. I'm here because I'm worried about you. The family is worried."

"Thank you, sister. There is no need to worry about me. Please leave."

"But danger surely lurks. You know her mother is planning something. She's not going to rest until she has destroyed you. Look what she was willing to do to her daughter."

"Francesca, you will leave now or I shall remove you."

She stared at him for awhile then leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. "Very well then, but promise me you won't put yourself in danger any longer. No more siphoning. If she doesn't cooperate with her transition, she should face the consequences."

Fitzgerald scowled at his sister.

"Hope to see you again soon, brother. Olivia, if you do anything to hurt my brother, you'll have to deal with a legion of vampires," said Francesca before she was out the door in a blur.

"How are you feeling?" Olivia asked, unmoved by Francesca's threat now that Fitzgerald was awake.

He was on the sofa beside her in a breath. "Much better now that I can see you, darling."

She smiled at him. "I love it when you call me that."

He kissed her gently on the lips. "Was Francesca telling the truth about us?" she asked.

"Yes, for the most part…the abbreviated version, colored by her own opinion of things." He kissed her on the neck. She leaned into him.

"I want to hear your version of the truth about as much as I want to be with you right now."

"I am going to weigh the scales towards telling you everything and then we can make love."

Olivia pulled back and slid to the opposite end of the sofa. "Okay, I'm ready."

Tomas stood over Byron's dead body, his heart was filled with regret. He had never killed anyone before.

"Tomas, you are doing the work of the Orisha. This is the only way. Byron is not suffering. He will be rewarded for his sacrifice. Now you must submit to the ritual so that you can be Byron and rescue my daughter," said Maya.

"But he knows nothing of The Way. He did not consent to be a sacrifice. How can the Orisha be pleased with that?"

"I am your priestess, Tomas. Let me be concerned about what pleases the Orisha. Come, my Tomas." She held out her arms to him. He went willingly, trapped by his need for her.