Descent Into Madness (30 page)

              “No, but you will still hate me for it,” he said. His back stiffened, and he released my hand as he stood. “Bree, please listen to me,” he said. “Some powers are far too great for one person to possess. You must keep it close to you at all times.” As I began to protest, he placed a hand upon my shoulder. “If you have ever loved me, if you love me now, promise me you will keep it close.”

              “Aksel, of course,” I whispered.

              “Bree, do you trust me?” he asked. His eyes melted into mine as he stared at me. “Do you love me?”

              “You know I do.” Clutching onto his head, I grabbed at his hair as his body trembled. I pulled him closer, embracing his bulky frame. His muscles quivered beneath my touch while he sobbed, the tears collecting on my shoulder. “What do you need me to do?” I asked.

              He pulled away, the anguish seething from his grief stricken eyes. “I need you to be with me when I go. I don’t want to be alone.”

              If the night were not already dark enough, his words would have removed every ounce of light from the starlit sky. The moon itself wept as the stars heard Aksel’s words, plunging themselves woefully into the icy waves below.

              “I have sent word to the archivist’s secretary,” he explained. “He believes I have the amulet now and I am destroying it with myself. Yet this is my third fire and I have not found the courage to throw myself on the embers.”

              “This is a foolish plan! The man is deranged. He believes this is a secret weapon, some ultimate power, and he is not going to stop because you are dead.”

              “Just help me, please?” he asked. “And be with me.”

              “I cannot.” I stepped back.

              “You must,” he replied.

              The wood crackled as the orange and red flames licked the night air, his face aglow in the fires warming aura. The memory of Aksel next to the cabin fire when we first met, when I thought his bearskin bedding was alive from the firelight, of all the firelights that had warmed our faces over the years… those memories faded as I looked at him now. 

              “It broke my heart, Bree,” he whispered, “when you had to sleep. There was so much uncertainty. Would you ever wake? Would you be the same? Then she came to me – the girl. She helped me search for this amulet, all those years you rested. She helped me learn its secret. She said it was time to wake you. That’s how I knew you would come tonight, how I knew I didn’t have to be strong. She said you would be strong for me. You have always been strong for me.”

              “What girl?” I asked. 

              He pointed in the distance where the firelight met the creeping darkness. There approached the dull outline of a wavering black dress. The cover of shadow hid everything else but the subtle aroma of lavender and linseed oil wafting over the fire.

              “She helped you find this?” I pulled the amulet from my pocket, fingering the cold stone.

              “It is time. If she is here now it is because they are coming!” He leaned forward, grabbed onto my waist and whispered into my ear, “Trust me and keep it close, no matter what happens.”

              I whispered, “Good-bye my love,” as I sunk my teeth into his hardened veins. His skin was leather to my fangs as they pierced the flesh, the cool liquid unlike mortal blood that gushed warm and freely into my mouth. Aksel went limp in my arms as I drained the old blood from his body. I choked each ounce down my throat as his arms, clinging to their last bits of strength, grabbed at my sides. His nails dug into my clothing, ripping my shirt.

              “Bree,” he coughed, “it is a weapon.”

              “Aksel,” I pulled away, gazing into his motionless face. “Aksel!” But his body started breaking, turning to dust, pieces disintegrating beneath my touch, mingling with the wind and riding out on the waves and into the obsidian sky. Speechless, I watched as he scattered away from me for all eternity. Then he was gone and the scent of linseed oil and lavender remained to comfort me, once again.   

THIRTY

T
he crystalline orbs stalk me, taunting me from their inky prison. Their starlight is already fading as I lament the passing of this night. Each orb cries with me, pleading for its release from this world, from its own immortality.

              The feel of Aksel’s skin – the iciness of his breath against my cheek – I can still sense him there. The hell in his eyes – the cold, isolated glare. How he stared at me with his haunted, desperate gaze, begging me to keep the amulet safe. Hidden. Close.

              That amulet. So secret and mysterious. I had more questions now than I did before I spoke with Aksel. Now he was gone.

              He was gone.

              Once again, the image of his essence scattering out to sea was there before me – a never-ending nightmare. As the wind now carried me home, the stars tormenting me with their joyous vibrancy, I could not erase his face from my mind. I closed my eyes and all I saw was his face breaking into a million fragments and scattering into the void, spreading beyond my reach.

              The image – now scorched into my corneas – was a wicked reminder that I had murdered the man I loved to protect an amulet I knew too little about. That thought sickened me.

              Chicago traffic was but a muddied puddle of reds and whites weaving across the asphalt below as I landed on my balcony. My body shook, his blood ashes staining my clothes. The damp Norwegian sand coated my ecru slacks and tan boots. My windswept hair clung to my tear stained face, knotted from the tumultuous Norse currents.

              The fire already raged within as I stepped off the balcony and entered the study. I moved to the heat, watching the glowing orange and red flames dance off the logs. The white ash cascaded from their woody home, revealing a seething hotness below, waiting to refuel the fire. My hands, weary from their travels – from their devilish deeds – licked at the flames for warmth.

              “Mother?” Aleksandra whispered, entering the room. Eagerly, I wiped the blood tears from my cheeks and turned. “What happened?” She rushed to my side and began smoothing the knots from my hair, and tracing the tears in my shirt with her fingers. “Where have you been?” Her fingers glazed over my tear-stained face, then down again to the blood splattering my shirt. “What have you done?”

              I pulled the amulet from my pocket and held it to the firelight. “I need to know what this is,” I said, my voice hoarse. As I spoke, the taste of his blood’s potency grew in my mouth. The remnants still coated my tongue, its spiciness reminding me of him. My body convulsed from the memory of my lips upon his neck. 

              “Mother, what happened tonight?” She led me to the settee. I sat there with the amulet in the palm of my hand, stroking it, hoping it would tell me its secret. “Mother, please tell me,” she urged. Her hand reached up, loosening the knots. 

              “Aksel has gone into the shadow.” I closed my eyes hoping that would make reality hurt less. However, it did not.

              “What?” She rose from the settee. “How?” She moved to the window, averting her eyes. Her hand moved, wiping the tears from her face. The sound of sirens screeched in the distance as a full onslaught of emergency personnel flew down State Street. “Where did it happen?”

              “Norway,” I told her.

              “I am so sorry, mother.” Aleksandra walked to the desk and grabbed a tissue. She blotted at the tears. “Did you,” she began but hesitated, “did you try and stop it,” she asked.

              My eyes remained on the amulet. “No,” I admitted.

              “How could you not?” She rushed at me stopping in front of me. Her hand grabbed a hold of my chin, pulling my face toward hers. Her eyes met mine until she saw the pain residing within. Then she released my face and backed away. “Tell me you did not.”

              “Aleksandra,” I began, “he wanted it.” 

              “Mother! What happened?” 

              Rising from the settee, I walked toward her. “Do you think it was easy for me to help Aksel? He was my first, Aleksandra. My first! My beloved! He didn’t really want to end his existence, Aleksandra; he
needed
me to end it. I will never understand why. And I do not need to! No one needs to!”

              I turned away from her. My eyes burned with him telling me good-bye. The rawness of the moment crushed me now as I stood in my posh high-rise, surrounded in opulence. The rawness of his sacrifice stung as the amulet’s hardness creased my palm, the jewels cutting into my flesh because I held it too tightly. Reality, in itself, was raw.

              “He
needed
me to do this for him,” I told her. “And when you love someone, you show them mercy, my daughter— you grant them that.”

              “Aksel’s gone,” she whispered in disbelief. “I cannot fathom this.”

              “He was running because of this amulet.” I opened my palm, the flesh now branded with the jewel’s imprint. “Whatever curse surrounds it continues on.”

              “What does it all mean?” she asked. “Peter, Colin, Aksel, how many must martyr themselves for that? Why is it so important?”

              “He said it was a weapon, Aleksandra. What kind of weapon can an amulet be? Aksel and the Vatican may be convinced of such, but I am not sure,” I admitted. “But I know one more person who can tell me the truth,” I assured her, tossing the trinket into my pocket.

              “Well, I sincerely hope you get those answers. And soon. Colin is not going to make it; Judith is pulling his life support tomorrow night. If Aksel and her father’s deaths were in vain, she is going to make this a personal crusade. If Francisco wanted a war, mother, he is about to get one.”               “I am not about to bring a war down on this city,” I told her, “Or anywhere for that matter.” Chicago bustled with life, its inhabitants – infectious, soul-filled ants – scurrying about oblivious to the detrimental drama unfolding before them.

              “Go to Judith and Colin tonight, please. She should not be alone,” I told her. “Go and calm her. We have lost one of our own. We could lose another before dawn approaches. But we must, nonetheless, say farewell to him at nightfall. So let them not talk of war tonight. Tell them, Aleksandra. For his sake, tell them. Tonight, we shall have peace.”

              “I will,” she said. “Wesley is already there. Come with me,” she urged. “You should not be alone.”

              “Please leave me to my sorrow tonight.” I rose, kissing away the soft plum blush dusting her cheek. “Let me mourn him, just for tonight. The reality is now eating me. I have slept so long without him, but now knowing that I will always be sleeping without him…”

              “Find comfort in the darkness, in the silence, if you must,” she said, hugging me, “But do not let it swallow you whole. Do not go into the shadows yourself because of this. The others, they will understand as I understand. You will see. Say good-bye to him tonight and I will see you tomorrow.”

              Aleksandra walked onto the balcony and ascended into the chilly October night. I walked to the desk, opened the laptop, and found myself cloaked in the computer’s brilliant green glow.

              Two hours had passed since Aleksandra left while I sat penning this account. Laptop keys crunched eagerly beneath my fingers as I feverishly typed. Dawn would soon approach.

              Each page trickled from my memory, the images as clear as if I were seeing them in front of me. I could touch them. I could violate these points in time as the blood had violated me. There I was in the convent. My throat throbbed as Wesley’s teeth sunk into my virginal, mortal flesh.

              There was Aksel: alive, his body glistened beneath the cascading moonlight as he walked along the shoreline, his barefoot toes skimming the frigid water. The wet sand was mushy as it invaded the crevices between my toes when we walked the Norwegian shore. His mortality seduced me as the moonlight danced off his tanned flesh.

              Swiftly, the pages multiplied as my immortal existence spilled across in black and white boldness. Viktor. The twins. Mavra. It pained me remembering how mortal he had been. How mortal they had all once been. So alive. So precious.

              Viktor’s mortality energized and completed me. He was everything to me.

              It seems as if those priceless nights spent listening to his heartbeat were a thousand years ago, not hundreds. And I ache to hear that heartbeat again, to close my eyes and hear its rhythmic cadence in my ear. I long to feel his lips press upon mine. To feel his bold Russian arms about my waist, reassuring me that mortality and immortality have a purpose. Writing about him brought him to life on the page. For a brief second I saw him before me. Yet when I reached out to hold him, he faded into the shadows.

              Everything must die as he died.

              The night wore on, the stars constant in their brilliance as the Chicago traffic slimmed. The pages caught up to the previous night, to that last fateful night with Aksel. In agony, my body quivered. I had murdered him. I had confessed my sin.

              The
Moonlight Sonata
’s haunting first movement began as Beethoven’s piece queued on the Internet radio. The music turned to the past while I turned to the present. The pages piled on the computer screen, filling with ghosts and demons. The amulet rested near me on the desk, its image staring blindly.

              Picking it up, I rubbed my thumb across the portrait. “Who are you?” I asked the smiling face. Its agelessness haunted me. 

              “You know who that is,” a voice replied from behind. The air in the study morphed as the fire finally died out. A mist blew in from the cracked balcony door replacing the musty smell of ash with a subtle, but unmistakable, aroma: lavender and linseed oil.

              “Or do you remember her?” Sister Veronica’s words sliced through the sonata’s flowery second movement. “The girl painted on that amulet, her face drove away the black petulance. As its poison annihilated those we loved, she persevered. She cared for the sick, the dying, and the homeless. Her merciful hand was ever ready to steady those in need.”

              “People change,” I hissed. The song ended. I slammed the laptop shut and rose, pressing toward her. “The blood has a way of doing that.”

              “Being a vampire changed you, Bree,” she remarked.

              “The blood… being a vampire… the two are one.” I sauntered to the window and placed my hand on the glass. Despite the October chill, the window felt warm to my unnaturally cold hand.

              “I am a monster, Veronica. You can sing me to sleep, keep me there for a thousand years, but it will never change that.”

              “You are not a monster, Bree,” she whispered. “The blood does not control you, not like it does others. Aksel knew that.” Her eyes moved to the desk. “That is why he gave you the amulet.”

              The room spun as Veronica moved to the desk and grabbed the trinket. Her prayer beads swung as she walked back to me. The amulet caught the moonlight as it sat in her palm, her outstretched hand coming closer.

              “It is a useless token, right?” I spat, taking the amulet from her. “Vatican hocus pocus. Just because one man believes it has powers, does not make it so.”