Chapter 10: The Strongest Crone

Amelie's POV

It was moments like these that reminded one of the dangers of feeling. The joy, the erroneous joy, of bringing a new child to the fold had overwhelmed me with feeling beyond anything I had felt. The joy of finding love in Samuel, in the possibility of Oliver, in the renewal of my bloodline with Michael Glass… all were paled in comparison. For once, serendipity had come to me, and it came through the vulnerable fangs of a young girl. Claire. As old as I was, the rise and fall of joy and sorrow was no stranger to the life I had chosen, especially in a life of ruling and regency. Therefore, only the most extreme and creative methods of betrayal would surprise me.

A poisoned blood.

A trick worthy of my own father's making, the curse upon the creator and created. The joy I felt bringing Claire into her new life was tarnished the moment I felt the mildly tangible taint of the poison. It was not until her collapse that the effects of the poison dawned into comprehension and manifestation; the recalibration of my bodily functioning, the threat of invasion awakening creatures within me to stand in solidarity to protect the heart. Such creatures had gained a noble human title, these pathogens, but the poison was strong and familiar.

Condensed Draug venom.

Panic rose within me. The very words to flit across my mind vibrated throughout my body to no response. I forced my consciousness to claw its way up and up – its talons clawing at the words in pain and betrayal and strife. Venom. I was paralysed, my body unresponsive. I was, ultimately, broken.

Claire would survive, I told myself. Her transition, in fact, may have been her salvation. As the primary target and source, the venom would inhibit the majority of my systems alone and would carry a shadowed version of the virus onto Claire. Her transitioned body may even have forged a way to utilise the newfound DNA within its blood stream: my clever child, my prodigy child in her new life as in her old. Together with Myrnin, Claire would find a way of treatment against the venom surging in my veins and soon leave me free to pursue my would-be killer. These were the petty lies I was dejected enough to rely upon.

A vampire had the advantage of requiring little oxygen to survive and so a lack of breathing was not a cause for concern – thus, once identified, the singular bodily movement was a vague issue. The rapid breathing, the ragged and ineffective breathing was forcing my chest to move in syncopated patterning. Panic again rose within me and drove my thoughts to one aspect of myself. All my years of strength and courage fed into my efforts to open my eyes.

Time passed yet I did not let up my efforts.

Light blinkered in and out of existence, patches of colour highlighted my eyelids. I, Amelie, the Founder of Morganville, would not bow down and die to some cowardly attempt at murder, for that's what it was. Poisoning was a coward's trick, a weak member of society's futile associations with Death and her maidens. It was to Death I prayed; feed your strength to mine eyes and thine enemies shalt not want for murder. It did occur to me that I was positively archaic in my troubled mood, but I took power from it, for Death herself was an old powerful maid and an old friend of mine. And Death would come for the wretch who rendered their Founder so weak. The need for bloodshed, once restrained by my own want for peace, unleased and released into my bloodstream, crying for Death.

My eyes blinked, and remained open, but my body remained paralysed and vulnerable to those who watched me. The reunification with my sight brought to me my other senses. Darkness. No, I could see one ghastly light painting the centre of the room a vile pale colour. I could not see the others in the room, but I could sense them as much as I had sensed the observation of Oliver. The pale centre was occupied by an empty chair. The floor appeared to be concrete. The smells of blood and sweat wafted to me. Cursing my paralysed self, I urged to retreat from it. My place of torture was a place of sin and decadence, no place for the royalty I once was.

"Is she awake?"

The voice sounded muffled and distant, but logic told me it belonged to one of the bodies lingering in the darkness covering the true berth of the room. She could see numerous ripples of movement in the dark like the altered path of rogue velvet, or black suede. Few heartbeats were to be heard. Humans and vampires.

"I don't know," A ponderous voice replied, "Her opened eyes may not reflect a state of awareness- NO! Do not approach her. Mistress told us we were to keep our distance and observe her."

"It's creeping me out, that's for sure. And buddy? What you do with your bloodsucker is your own goddamn business."

"Excuse me?"

There came a throaty chuckle, and a clumsy shuffle of shoes on loss ground.

"The whole 'Mistress' thing is frankly disgusting, so shut it, fangbanger."

The next hours merely consisted of several parties - mainly human - arguing inconsequentially about the ethics of inter-species relations. If I dared, I would have allowed myself precious hours of sleep. My vulnerable state rendered it unquestionable. The possibility of further attack made it a harsh reality: rest was not a luxury I could afford. Instead my time was spent attempting to identify my captors. The young, gruff voice was familiar, but initially unrecognisable. The ponderous voice sounded like a medical man, a doctor perhaps. None had particularly revolutionary notions concerning the welfare of my town, but all did seem to answer to a female type of leader. Past experience had taught me female leaders were to be feared, but after the defeat of my father and of the Draug, I did not panic. My state was clearly due to some would-be rebel retaining and modifying some specimen of Draug venom, which had been abundant months past. I vowed that once my body thawed and destroyed the poison, as I had done with Magnus himself, I would seek out Oliver and together we would fix the human population further. Perhaps it was time for a few choice humans to meet Death in all her glory. Their ungracious selfishness did not surprise me - they had never been worthy of my gift of protection nor peace. I listened intently to their voices and yearned for the identity of the old faction's new leader to arise. It did not. Several of the other voices were too soft to hear, although it did bring to question the extent of my damped abilities.

It wasn't until Hannah Moses stepped into the pale light that I learned anything previously unbeknownst to me.

Author's note: Hello! Well, it's been years since I updated and, honestly, I had thought my password was long forgotten. Evidently not. This doesn't mean I will be writing as much as I did all those years ago, but circumstances (aka: boredom) have enabled me to continue this profile and some of my stories. Thankfully, I was reminded of this little story recently and am still a fan of the (now finished) Morganville series so... Here we go again :)

- A xo