Chapter 23:
Alright, alright, so I fail at updating. I had a lot to do, then just kept forgetting to write more. But here, have this chapter; I sincerely hope you enjoy it!
Myrnin's POV:
"She isn't dead."
I don't know where I hear these words, or who has said them, but it stuns me enough to make me lift my head from Claire's shoulder and look at her, properly look. It makes me listen harder than I was listening before, gives me the glimmer of hope that normally means that everything's going to be ok: it gives me a chance.
Someone as old as I shouldn't have missed what I have missed, and for one long, horrifying second, I feel sickened with myself that I've been sitting here crying over Claire's body for minutes when she's been alive! There's only a flicker of a heartbeat, perhaps one or two impulses emitted from her brain to keep the absolutely vital organs running—I can't feel her breath against my skin, indicating that she's so very cold inside now—but…but that's enough. To turn into a vampire, there only needs to be the very slightest sign of life…and I have it.
Her chest doesn't rise and fall as it ought to, and only staring at it very intensely makes me think that it is moving; it looks like a trick of the minimal light in this dank, abandoned place—but it isn't. It's the spark of vitality that's needed for Claire to live.
It's the best thing that I've ever seen in my life.
Some sort of elated laughter bursts out of my mouth, and within seconds, I've lifted her and summoned a portal to take us to Amelie. I could turn her, theoretically, but whilst it may cost us precious seconds taking Claire to Amelie, it could save her life. Insanity will perhaps haunt her in her vampire form if I turn her; Amelie has no such worries and therefore Claire will be wholly healthy if the Founder of Morganville completes the transformation.
Bursting through the portal into Amelie's hallway, I shout for my oldest friend as soon as we arrive, my ears pinpointing her exact location—not that I need it. She's in the room she was in ten minutes ago, with Sam, and therefore this is the room I gravitate towards, though this time, I intend to greet Amelie with a girl in my arms.
Claire's so pale that she could pass for one of us already, and as I press my finger against her slightly pursed lips, her exhalation is barely noticeable. My focus is on her heartbeat and ensuring that there is even a tiny flicker every few seconds; without this, there is no hope.
"Amelie, your assistance is required most urgently!" I call as I near the entrance to Sam's room, unsure as to how safe it is to take a human—albeit a nearly dead human—into the vicinity of a blood-starved vampire. Claire is my priority, as always, and whilst I know that it would cause Sam great pain for her to be near him, if she doesn't get to Amelie, she is dead anyway.
The door opens before I have to kick it open, and an Amelie with an irate expression stares at me in disbelief, an expression which soon turns to confusion when she notices Claire in my arms. "Why are you bringing a dead human into my home, Myrnin?" she says calmly, her intonation not flickering even the slightest as she looks away from Claire back into my eyes.
"She isn't dead," I respond, willing Amelie to understand, to listen deeply and to hear what I hear. All she needs to do is believe, and then she can turn Claire and the young girl won't be subjected to a wrongfully early death merely because Amelie couldn't give her lover up.
But belief isn't something that Amelie continues to have; too many false hopes from me in my attempt to cure the disease led to that.
"She isn't alive, Myrnin, my friend," Amelie says, her voice soft as she reaches out for my arm. I take a step backwards, in order for her not to touch me. "If you bring her in, I can prove it to you; Sam won't react if she's dead—his auditory skills are second to none, and are more developed than even my own. He will be able to sense even a flicker of a heartbeat."
Not wanting to waste any time, I barge past Amelie into the room, fear blinding me—fear that perhaps she's right, perhaps Claire is dead and that I've been hearing something that doesn't exist for the past minute—ignoring her noise of disgust at the same time. She doesn't grasp the severity of the situation, I fear, not now she has her love back. We may very well be friends, but in the grand scheme of things, my love is nothing compared to hers.
Before I even set Claire down upon one of the sofas which adorn this overly lavishly decorated room, there's a flurry of movement from the other end of the room: the end where Sam is. He's moving, which can only mean one thing; already, he's sensed that there is life within Claire, that she isn't dead as Amelie had feared.
"It's impossible," Amelie breathes as she scurries past me to Sam's side. "Hush, Samuel, it's quite alright. Drink this and you will feel better."
I set Claire down, but even now, Amelie doesn't seem to be in a hurry to return to me and to turn her; she dallies by Sam's side even when it becomes clear that he is no longer especially interested in Claire.
"Would you mind coming here today, Amelie?" I find myself snapping, more than slightly waspishly, and I feel the redness cloud my vision. Anger and impatience has made my inner vampire rise to the surface, and no matter how much I want to push it back down so that I'm the man Claire knows, I can't. "I may not be as important to you as Samuel, but if you don't want Claire to die I suggest you come here now."
Within seconds, Amelie is by my side, on her knees by the sofa where Claire lies, her fangs visible to me. "I come when I please and when my other responsibilities are dealt with, not when you deign me to," she replies, her voice extremely steady. "Now, if you would remain by Samuel's side whilst I turn Claire, it would be appreciated." She begins to move closer to Claire's neck, brushing the hair away so that there's clear access to the pulmonary vein as she moves.
"No," I reply instantaneously, tightening my grip on the side of the sofa. "I'm not leaving her, not now…not when it could all go wrong."
Amelie pauses in her mission, her fangs merely an inch from Claire's neck as she turns to face me. A look in her eyes scares me, but I remain standing where I am, defiant of her wishes, because to leave Claire wouldn't be the best thing for retaining a sane state of mind. "Go to Samuel now, or I shall cease this turning and leave you either to turn her yourself—and risk her becoming insane—or allow her to die. It is your choice, Myrnin." She is deathly serious, I can tell, and very reluctantly, I lower my gaze to take one last look at Claire's human form. She's even paler now, if possible, and any slight motion is eradicated; she looks like a corpse.
"Hurry," I murmur as I move. "Please, Amelie."
She says nothing; instead, she lowers her head and bites into Claire's neck.
As I stand by Sam, I wince; the noise of Amelie tearing into Claire's skin is too painful. Yet, as before, I must struggle on if I want her to survive.
~x~
Claire's POV:
The first thing I feel is pain, and instinctively, I think that I must be in hell—or at least being taken somewhere where pain is the desired objective. Perhaps my life has been focused on the wrong things, perhaps I've helped the wrong people, and that's why even in the afterlife, I'm being punished.
However, when I think for a second or so more, and the pain begins to cease once more into a numbness that correlates with the lack of blood within my body, I realise that the source of the pain is my neck. And unless I've been extremely unlucky in this life-after-death scenario, the bite in my neck has merely revived me into being awake for the very last moments of my life as Claire Danvers, a human within Morganville who may or may not have gained herself some feelings for an insane vampire.
I can't tell if this is a good or a bad thing; the last thing I remember is being with Oliver, so if he's after me for even more blood, then this is just going to end in death. However, there is always a chance that this is someone who has come to save me…and whilst this method of saving would never have been my first choice, it's going to ensure—perhaps—that I don't die today. Therefore, I consider it saving me.
My mouth is forced open, though I can't feel anyone touching my skin, and a stream of lukewarm liquid pours into it, trickling down my throat as it does so. The liquid's saltier than anything that I've ever tasted, and in all honesty, is nothing like what I expected blood to taste of. Even if I wanted to stop myself drinking it, I couldn't; as it spreads through into my system, it feels as though it's warming me up, recharging the nerves which run through my body. My brain, which mere moments ago felt as though it was about to give up, begins to hurt more than anything else—and it's a pain that I wish had never started.
Within half a minute of this blood being in my body, the pain that began in my head is spreading, and parts of me which were originally numb are no longer in this state; they ache as though I've been for a long run without stopping, and feel as though they're about to fall off. It isn't an unbearable pain, however…more just an aching one, as though I have absolutely nothing left in my body to give to keeping myself alive. The slight pressure my heart has been exerting in order to pump blood to my brain begins to slow, and a low curse from a female someone near to me makes me think that, perhaps, this ought not to be happening.
Perhaps I'm not even managing to succeed at turning into a vampire.
It feels strange, the slowing of my heart, though I focus more upon the aches that spread into every part of my body. There isn't a muscle that doesn't feel affected; even my neck feels as though it's spent. It doesn't hurt—but the new pressure upon my chest does.
Appearing suddenly, one second not there the next there, an extreme pressure presses down into my skin, forcing my heart into the position it should be in as it contracts, sending the blood which isn't mine around my body. The pressure then relieves, giving me perhaps half a second of time to appreciate the comparative ease the ache brings me, before it is back, sending the blood around my body and to my brain once more.
This continues for an immeasurable period of time, during which I begin to forget the more and more monotonous pain of someone with superhuman strength pressing their hands into my chest, instead choosing to focus on the aching. After intensifying for a few moments, it begins to ebb, no longer there in my extremities; they feel normal, as though there's absolutely nothing different about them than before Oliver took me, and the same feeling soon spreads through my stomach. However, the hunger that I ought to have due to not eating for almost a day doesn't present itself, indicating to me that my stomach is no longer an essential link to my existence.
The ache continues around my heart and in my brain, where sharp stabs of pain are suddenly so intense that I somehow find myself gasping for air that I find doesn't resolve the issue. I can't tell if this is a good thing or a bad thing; it's evidently good because I have the energy to breathe, which I didn't have before…but I don't need to breathe!
The pressure on my chest suddenly alleviates, not that I had particularly noticed it for the past few units of immeasurable amount of time, and I feel a light pressure against my temples, something that I wouldn't have felt before. Words are murmured in a foreign language, in a voice I recognise as Amelie's, and as she speaks, I feel warmer and warmer. The pressure in the centre of my forehead increases, as does a new one within my mouth, and I don't think I can face it any longer.
So I take the easy option. I'm not sure if this is what I'm meant to do, or whatever, but I allow myself to shut off my consciousness from all thoughts of pain, from anything in this world—and I fall back into the darkness Amelie revived me from.
The respite it gives me isn't long, though.
~x~
Myrnin's POV:
The moment her lips open and a noise escapes I know that no matter what Claire does, no matter how close to death she can take herself, there is no turning back; she is going to survive as a vampire.
Amelie's hands lift to Claire's temples and she begins to mutter the rites of what the process of turning requires. It becomes more and more difficult for me to remain with a vampire who has, sometime in the last few minutes, fallen into a stupor so deep that only a living human could tempt him back to consciousness. Therefore, I deign it an acceptable time to return to Claire's side.
Carrying a blood bag for when she awakens, I move swiftly across the room to where Claire lies with Amelie kneeling beside her, standing behind the sofa so that I'm out of Amelie's way. As I stop, Amelie's eyes open and she merely stares at me for a period of time, never stopping her reciting of the words, before she finally nods. I have permission—not that I particularly require it—to remain by Claire's side until she wakes up into her new life as a vampire.
As I stand here, I can hear the faltering of her heartbeat; it's stronger than it was when she entered the room, a fact which surprised me the first time that I was present at a turning. The vampire blood strengthened her, and if she hadn't been so close to death, I believe that it would be plausible for her to have returned as a human. She regained some strength, and now that is being used to fuel the conversion that Amelie is facilitating, which is why the new vampires are always so blood thirsty; their systems are practically empty.
"Myrnin!" Amelie hisses, and I realise that amidst my staring at Claire—she looks only very slightly different to minutes ago, though the differences are barely noticeable—Amelie has stopped her chanting and is no longer touching Claire's head. "Are you on this planet or one far, far away?" she continues, slightly tetchier than she usually would be in this situation.
As soon as she takes a step further away from Claire, I pounce, taking the position she has just vacated by Claire's side. My knees collide with the front of the sofa, forcing it backwards a few inches, and I scurry with it, clutching Claire's hand as I do so. Her skin is cooler now, more like my own body temperature, and if I need another indication that the process is almost over, this is it.
Tears begin to run down my cheeks, their purpose not particularly clear to me, and I find myself begging every person I can possibly think of for her to be alright. My mind is filled with words, with sentence constructions akin to prayers, and I begin to babble them aloud, wanting nothing more than to see her eyes snap open and for her to tell me that I should shut up.
A shudder runs through Claire's body, startling me into silence. She's near to the end now, near to opening her eyes—the only thing that needs to happen is…
…her heart stops. It makes one final beat, sending as much of Amelie's donated blood that remains around her body, and then it stops completely. Claire is no longer a human; she is one of us, a vampire.
"Myrnin?"
Her voice is weak as she whispers my name, and I tighten my grip on her hand reflexively as she speaks, the delight that she is alive too much for me to handle. More tears fall down my cheeks as a grin spreads across my lips, the delight and euphoria too great for me to contain.
"Claire, you're alive!" I have to call this out, unable to resist stating the obvious.
Her eyes are yet to open, and I get the feeling that she desires to keep them shut for as long as possible; perhaps keeping her eyes shut will prevent this from becoming a reality, or perhaps it's merely to keep her control and bloodlust under a semi-form of control.
"I know," she replies, her voice equally as scratchy and barely audible as before. "I'd be worried if this was the afterlife, given that Oliver's standing in the doorway."
My head shoots up at the same time as Amelie's does to look at the doorway, and Claire is right. I do not understand how we could have missed something that Claire has noticed, but we have.
Oliver is indeed standing in the doorway.
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