Chapter 4

AFTERMATH

Lexi rushed inside the hospital room, the door slowly sliding to a close behind her. She approached the bed and the blonde sitting next to it. “How in hell did this happen?” She almost roared, eyes not leaving Amelia’s sleeping form lying on the hospital bed. She looked peaceful, but her neck was bandaged and an IV bag was dripping medicine at a steady rate.

Brown eyes turned to the blonde girl, concern and anger both twisting Lexi’s expression as she questioned Cats. “Shh, lower your voice, Lexi. She needs rest to recover.” The blonde spoke in hushed tones. Amelia had received a blood transfusion and was being hydrated and sedated at the same time, but the sedatives weren’t strong - as the doctor had explained - so the brunette could still wake up from too much noise.

Lexi clenched her teeth and moved across the room to grab a chair. She sat on the opposite side of the hospital bed from where Cats was. Not having had time to change, she was still in her hunting clothes. Of course she had left her weapons at the entrance of the hospital, as was required. With those clothes yet without the weapons she almost felt naked and awkward. Her long, dark brown hair was  braided and tied in a bun. Having long hair during a hunt was not practical. She wore no makeup and neither did she need it. Her creole skin, testimony to her father’s African descent, was flawless, yet her beautiful features were distorted by a deep frown. “Well?...” She didn’t whisper, but kept her voice low and filled with latent anger.

Cats’ eyes were big and a light blue in color. Her blond curls messy and her attire equally disheveled. She had been awakened in the middle of the night by a phone call and had thrown something on herself to replace her pajamas and then had rushed over to the hospital without further delay.

“The attacker… it was a vampire.” It was stating the obvious because the bandage on her neck pretty much made that glaringly clear. “She lost a lot of blood, but they gave her a transfusion. At least they found her in time...” Cats was holding Amelia’s hand as she spoke. Lexi was doing the same on the other side. The blonde rubbed her tired eyes with her free hand, sighed and then looked over at her friend. “I’m afraid that’s all I know. It was an anonymous call and she was found in an alley near the hospital. It’s lucky she was so close and they gave her the blood transfusion immediately… otherwise… she wouldn’t have made it.” The last part got out as a choked whisper because those were words Cats didn’t dare usher at a normal volume.

Catherine Lambert - or Cats as her friends called her - was a photographer. She had majored in architecture, but  found photography to be much more to her liking, although she was a person who switched passions often enough anyway. One other minor detail - Catherine was also a witch. Quite capable according to her aunt, yet it was something that the blonde seemed intent on pushing into the background of her life. Plagued by the usual nightmares, haunted by the Watchers, or the Dayyani - as her aunt called them, Cats liked focusing on everything in her life that was unrelated to magic.

She lost control often when it came to using magic. Angela, her aunt, insisted that it was simply a matter of practicing and learning to control it, but it frightened Cats a lot more than she was saying. It had been that way ever since the signs had started, when she was just a child living next-door to Amelia. The two had befriended when they were both seven years old. Amelia moving to New York had meant a very sweet and long awaited reunion for the two. And then Cats introduced her to Lexi and the three became inseparable. Different characters, passions and even different natures, the three formed a whole.

Cats was the witch - kind, optimistic, forgetful and bubbly. Lexi was a Sharur - confident, strong, protective and short-tempered. Amelia was the human - great with computers and cakes, curious, loyal and smart.

Lexi’s jaws clenched and she closed her eyes against the rising anger. She hadn’t been there to help her friend. For all the good it did her to be and work as a Sharur, she couldn’t save everyone. Besides, the Sharur were severely understaffed for a city as overrun by the supernaturals as New York was.

A Sharur was born as a human, often from Sharur parents. They were people trained in combat and weapons from a very young age, taught about weaknesses, their own and those of the other supernaturals. When they were considered ready, if ever, they underwent a ritual called the Alhalsu. It was performed by witches, usually three - sometimes more, sometimes just one sufficed. The spell for the ritual was a very well guarded secret and it also involved drinking vampire blood. Those undergoing the Alhalsu suffered unimaginable pain as their bodies transformed. If they survived the process and if their minds remained intact after that, they became Sharur. Survival didn’t depend solely on physical strength and no one knew what determined who died and who made it through. The mortality rate had decreased with time as the conditions for being considered apt to undergo the Alhalsu had become harsher. Those born from Sharur parents seemed to have better chances of survival so it was thought that genes played some part in it.

Lexi had been born from Sharur parents. Her father was one of the Elders of New York, but she had been a twin. The Alhalsu had claimed her sister, Brianna, the stronger and more talented of the two, leaving Lexi scarred and changed - it wasn’t visible to those who didn’t know her well, yet blaring obvious to those who did. The scars seemed to have faded considerably ever since meeting Cats and then Amelia, but she remained forever changed for those who had known her before. Perhaps it was one of the many things she loved about Mills and Cats: they didn’t look at her like she was damaged, with that unspoken expectation for her to “get better” somehow. Some changes simply were permanent - like becoming a Sharur was.

“Lexi, stop it.” Cats could read her like an open book. Not that it was a difficult thing to do in those moments. “She’s going to be fine… she is fine. It could have been much worse… fortunately it wasn’t.” She bit down on her bottom lip. Cats knew her friend hated feeling helpless or failing to protect someone. Failing in general, actually, since Lexi was a very competitive woman, but she imagined it was especially tough on her feeling, as absurd as unjustified as it was, that she had failed one of her best friends. Cats felt it too, to some degree. It wasn’t a witch’s job to protect humans and police the supernaturals, but she was a witch after all - a damn powerful one according to her aunt. What good had it ever done? The Watchers hadn’t alerted her to her friend being in danger, neither was there any spell that would protect her from all potential dangers. Not even healing with magic was a possibility.

“I know.” Lexi finally spoke, exhaling with resignation. Some of the anger was dissipating - she focused on the fact that Amelia was going to make a full recovery after all. “I’m still going to find the bastard who did this to her.” Cats nodded with a faint smile. She was still unable to care much about who had harmed Amelia or why. All she cared about was seeing Amelia recovered.

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It was a little after sunrise when Amelia’s eyes fluttered open. A soft moan escaped her lips as she tried to shift but found her body unusually stiff and felt a stab of pain coming from her  neck area. The hospital smell invaded her nose - she knew it well enough with all the time she had spent with Cats in one, keeping her company when her friend’s mother was battling cancer.

There was white everywhere. She looked down at her right hand, pinned down by a sleeping Catherine and stabbed by the IV needle. Her head hurt, mostly behind the eyes and her face felt flushed for some reason. Looking to the left, Lexi was sleeping in a fetal position, all rolled up in an armchair in the corner. Her thoughts were hazy, but she remembered most of the events that had led to her being in a hospital room.

Amelia shuddered, taking her free hand up to the bandages on her neck. A chill invaded her body, contrasting with the flush of heat she could still feel on her face. The realization hit her: she had nearly died. In fact, in those last moments before losing consciousness, she was certain she was to never wake up again. The memory of sharp fangs against her neck, the pain, the helplessness against the vampire’s stony grip… the smell of wet earth and trees. Then she thought about his cold fingers wrapped around her neck, probably wanting to strangle her. Why wasn’t she dead, after all? How had she ended up in a hospital, alive? She struggled to remember anything beyond that last memory of being a step away from having her neck snapped. There was something more that she couldn’t remember. Either it had really happened it or she had dreamed it - his hand had released its grip on her. Had he changed his mind or had someone else intervened? It proved futile trying to make the fog lift from her mind in those moments.

Soft moaning came from Cats, her face contorting while asleep. No doubt she’s having one of her nightmares. Amelia thought with the hint of a smile on her dry lips. Lexi shifted a little next and it drew Amelia’s attention her way. That can’t be too comfortable. Of course her friends hadn’t left her side at all. At least there was no sign of Angela, Cats’ aunt. She was a maternal figure and quite overprotective of the girls, even of Lexi. And if anyone could take care of herself, that was Lexi.

A sudden and loud moan came from Cats. It startled Amelia who had been staring up at the ceiling and Lexi’s feet fell from the chair with a thud uncharacteristic of the grace and reflexes of a Sharur. No doubt the assault on her enhanced hearing had been bigger than on a human. Cats looked up, startled and half-confused from her nightmare. Lexi was on her feet and by Amelia’s side before she was able to blink.

“Oh no, did I drink too much again?” Amelia asked with a pleading grin, while looking from one girl to the other. Cats assaulted her with a hug, despite timid protests because of the pain in her arm caused by the IV needle and the one in her neck. Soon Lexi joined in, softer and more reserved. “I’m okay, you guys. Some oxygen would be good though… anytime now… no hurry” It felt good. It felt wonderful and she swallowed back the tears.

The three talked. Amelia told them everything she remembered. They scolded her repeatedly, they ranted about the whole thing, they laughed and they even cried. Nurses came and went. The doctor saw her and promised she would be discharged soon and that she was perfectly okay. The police came too and took her statement. Amelia had no doubt about the location where the attack had taken place in, but they were saying she had been found in an alley very close to the hospital. And as the result of an anonymous phone call, no less.

Someone had carried her all the way there, for some reason. But who? Who other than the man who had attacked her in the first place? First he had tried to strangle her, then he had carried her closer to the hospital and made the anonymous phone call. Or maybe someone else had witnessed the attack and had stopped her aggressor, taking her to the hospital afterwards. Then again such a person would have no reason to make an anonymous call instead of taking her all the way to the hospital. They studied all the scenarios, but it was more a matter of passing the time than conviction that their theorizing would lead to anything concrete.

Amelia was finally discharged and her friends took her home. Of course a sleepover was a must so the three girls fell asleep on Amelia’s bed, while the host was left to stare up at the ceiling of her room, visible only because of the light coming in through the windows from the streetlamp just outside it.

Sleep eluded her, understandably so. She kept going back to the attack, trying to remember more details about it. At least her attacker’s face. It had been dark and his face had been bloody. Besides she hadn’t even gotten a good look at him. Still she was certain she’d be able to recognize him should they meet again - something she truly hoped wouldn’t happen. This wasn’t a matter of justice or revenge for what she had been through, this was a matter of self-preservation. The vampire had been hurt and had lost a lot of blood… he had probably just given in to bloodlust. That didn’t justify his attempt to kill her after the attack. Perhaps he thought about leaving no witnesses. Why then had he changed his mind?

Amelia gently rolled off the bed, making her way to the window. Perhaps some fresh, cold, night would help clear her thoughts and help her sleep better.

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He saw her drawing the curtains away from the window. Her silhouette was softly lit by the streetlamp on the sidewalk, just outside, long black hair falling around her shoulders in soft curls. She opened her window, resting her palms against the windowsill. He stood hidden by the shadow of a tree across the street from her apartment building. Her colors were vibrant to his vampire sight, defying the limitations of the night. The memory of her vanilla scent flooded his nose. She was too far away from him to catch any scent coming from her.

Egil knew what she was, of course. She probably didn’t. He should have killed her when he had had her in his embrace, or later, when he had encircled her neck with his fingers. One sudden move was all it would have taken for her fragile human neck to snap. It still wasn’t too late for him to end her life. One human life - she didn’t matter.

Egil recoiled from the memory of how her blood tasted. It almost drove him into a trance just thinking about it. Such power. She was a beautiful, young woman, but that had played no part in his decision to allow her to live. No, Amelia was alive because of the treacherous beast inside of himself that longed for what she could bring forth - the potential in her blood. She was a means to an end. The last time he hadn’t hesitated in snapping the woman’s neck, but that had been more than five hundred years previously.

A beautiful young woman - no older than sixteen - with flaming red hair and blue eyes like the summer sky. Milky white skin and a voice like honey - none of her assets had been enough to save her. As soon as her taste had registered, Egil had made his decision. He had drank her dry with no remorse, leaving behind only the beautiful carcass of a Shi. He knew the curse would simply jump into another unfortunate soul, but allowing her to live had been something beyond contemplation.

Now he was looking at a Shi again. The Shi, for only one was alive at any one time. The temptation to use her blood for what it was meant to do was dangerous. He hadn’t even been aware of it growing over the years until he had been faced with the choice again. She was the key to damnation - not just his, but possible the world as they knew it. Yet he turned around and left - she would live one more day.

New characters in chapter 3

These two characters appear in chapter 3 of the book.

Amelia Reinhart

A 27 year old human. Yes, her image is Nina Dobrev because I’ve grown to like her and she fits the character very well. The only differences would be that Amelia has fairer skin (despite how much I adore Nina’s skintone). She’s one of the protagonists of the book, so keep an eye on her.

Karla Holt

A 21 year old witch. Although she can’t actually do any magic, she has the extremely rare gift of visions and she’s a valuable asset. Her image is Cintia Dicker.

The first vampire and the vampires of the First Generation

Anshar

This is how I picture Anshar, from the first chapter in the Diamonds of the Past story. He's the first vampire and the only truly immortal one. Anshar died and became a vampire at the human age of 32 and is currently, in my story, 3293 years. There is a lot more to come about him, but I don't want to give out any information before it comes out in the story. I just think that it's important to also have a visual reference for a character, but feel free to picture them differently. This is David Gandy's image that I'm using.

Caiden Thorne (Egil)

This is Egil, a 3129 year old vampire. The first one Anshar ever turned and that one no one knows about for reasons that will become clear as the story progresses. The world however knows him as Caiden Thorne, a 780 year old vampire. Now I know that, upon seeing Ian Somerhalder as my mental image for Egil your mind might snap to Damon, but I assure you that this should not be the case. I can't help but use him since he's been my Egil ever since I saw him in the movie Pulse. That being said, more information will become clear as the story progresses and I want to spoil nothing for you.

Erik Vaughn (Aram)

I know Aram is barely mentioned for now. He is also one of Anshar's creation and that makes him a First Generation vampire. As far as he and his other blood siblings know, he is the oldest turned vampire and Anshar's first creation. The actor I picture him as is Christopher Mason, but with a lot more polished look. His hair is usually tightly pulled back in a low ponytail and he's an elegant dresser. Aram is 2806 as a vampire and he was turned at the age of 25.

Addien Maness (Livia)

Livia, or Addien as she is currently called, is the third vampire of the First Generation. A beautiful Roman treasure, she was turned by Anshar after having become his lover. She was 24 and has been a vampire for 2655 years. Gemma Arterton portrays her very well. She's very sensual and sexual, but also envious and needs attention.

Kane Trapp (Solon)

Solon was discovered and turned a year after Livia. He is the fourth of the First Generation. While Solon isn't a man of many spoken words, when he does speak, his siblings are all ears. He might not be the oldest or in charge of their group, but he is a great strategist. One of the most elitist of the vampires, he is passionate about supernaturals, especially vampires, being the ruling species. Henry Cavill is what inspires my image of Solon. He's 2654 years old as a vampire and was turned when he was 36.

Valentine Waters (Valerius)

Valerius is the fifth, two years younger than Solon. He was turned when he was 28. Valerius is and has always been a puppeteer when it comes to humans. He enjoys still trying to pass for a human and intricate deception. While he might come off as a womanizer, immature and playful, he is a great strategist and could rival Solon if it wasn't for his hotheadedness. Unlike Solon, however, he doesn't hate humans, instead he enjoys them even though he's still not one to consider them equals.

Lana Wells (Charis)

Charis is the youngest of the First Generation, turned at the young age of nineteen, after having been kept a prisoner and tortured for three years. She has always been and still is a kind soul, someone who tries to be level headed and find a way to make things work. She strives for her siblings to get along and works toward a peaceful co-existence with the humans. She is not at all naive or stupid and she is well aware that it's not something she can achieve, but she tries to minimize damage in any way she can. I picture her as Amy Rossum, but I have yet to find a face I am completely pleased with. She is a mature person, yet still holds the innocence that her human years reflect, while her big eyes tell stories of suffering, hope and wisdom. Her hair is a lot lighter in color, almost blond and it's naturally curly.

Chapter 3

  << Chapter 2

AND SO IT BEGINS

Karla collapsed on her knees. She didn’t register the pain. Flaming red hair fell in chaotic waves around her as she gasped for breath and shivered. Valentine was by her side in a second. He took her into his arms, both kneeling on the marble floor of the living room and he caressed her gently. The redhead grabbed with one hand his upper arm and dug her nails hard without even fully realizing it as she still gasped for precious breath.

“Shh, my little flame, you’re safe, I’m here. What are you seeing?” Val’s voice was soft, soothing, but it didn’t stop the shaking. “It’s… cold.. so… cold.” Karla barely whispered the words through gritted teeth. “I see.. him.” The shaking was getting worse.

“Who, Karla, who do you see? Where are you?” Val asked with urgency, yet not raising his voice. The visions about the past rarely affected her that much, but when she experienced visions of the present it was usually violent and it left her weakened for days. Yet those were the precious ones, the ones Val and his siblings cared most about. His body did provide some warmth for Karla since Val had recently fed, however the cold she was feeling wasn’t exactly physical, so it didn’t make much of a difference in the end.

“Val, help me.” Tears escaped her eyes onto her freckled cheeks. “I can’t stand the… the cold.” She stuttered, one tear after the other flowing from her eyes.

“I’m here, Karla. You can do it. The cold is not real, it’s just in your head.” His caresses became more rushed on her exposed skin. The cold might have been in her head, but her skin had indeed become dangerously cold for a human. Val still needed to know what she was seeing. “Tell me more, Karla. Focus on where you are and what you’re seeing. Listen to my voice and forget about the cold.” He gently turned her around so that she was now facing him, her open eyes looking at him, but not seeing her lover at all. Her cupped her face and brought his own close to her until their foreheads touched. “Karla, talk to me, my little flame.”

The shivering became slightly less pronounced. “A cave. I’m in a cave, on a mountain.” There was a pause. Val said nothing out of fear of her snapping out of the vision. “He’s lying on a stone. It’s cold, damp and dark.” Her voice was barely even a whisper and Val was the only force keeping her from collapsing to the floor entirely. “What else, Karla? What more can you tell me?” Val’s voice was almost pleading. Karla’s tears were trickling down his own arms. She was very cold and her eyelids slowly started covering her blue eyes. Val shifted slightly to catch her in his arms as she finally lost consciousness. The vampire stood, holding the beautiful and unconscious redhead in his arms. He carried her upstairs to her bedroom, calling for Amantha, one of the women working in his house, on the way. Val placed the young woman gently on her bed. He drew the covers over her then turned to Amantha. “Her body temperature is very low. I leave her in your care.”

He turned and left the room. His cell phone was already dialing someone. “Aram, we need to meet. Karla saw something.” The conversation was short. She had not seen much, but any information was precious. A cave. Their maker was somewhere in a cave, on some mountain… somewhere. Oddly enough, it still narrowed down their search.

Val left his lover in the care of someone else. Amantha had taken care of Karla before, she knew what was to be done for she also had been trained as a nurse. It wasn’t that Val didn’t care about his lover. Oh, he did. He cared about her visions and her potential. He loved the human, but Val’s love was not selfless, exclusive or unconditional. It didn’t matter much, he had Karla wrapped around his little finger. Her life with hims was good, she was cared for, showered with presents and attention and everything she needed was one phone call away… except for Val’s heart. She didn’t truly have that. Then again, she didn’t know that.

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Bach was Amelia’s choice for listening while alone with her thoughts. She leaned against the side of the car, looking at the darkened remains of the house. The fire had destroyed most of it, but the years passed since then had allowed some vegetation to invade its ruins. The house Amelia had been born in, the one in which her parents had met their end, that was the object of her visit. There were no other houses in the vicinity, only a grove that surrounded it on three sides. The moon was full, the sky clear and that meant that the night didn’t hide as many secrets from human eyes as the rest of the month.

The brunette liked going there to clear her mind. It was stupid for a young woman, a young human woman, to be by herself at night, in such a remote location, but never, in the years she had been going there, had she encountered another soul. Somehow it was still her territory. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t have to.

Amelia missed her parents. Not her real ones, for those she didn’t even remember - her adoptive ones. She had been to visit them a couple of weeks before, in Grand Haven, the place that had watched her grow. There was nothing quite like sleeping back in her old room, eating her mom’s cooking and swimming in Lake Michigan with her father. She still loved New York and she had Cats and Lexi here as well as Angela - Cats’ aunt who loved to act like an overprotective mother to the both even though she didn’t look to be much older than them. The perks of being a fairly strong and capable witch.

Looking at her wristwatch, a sigh escaped her lips. Time always passed by quickly when she came to visit her biological parents’ house, the one she would have grown up in had the fire not claimed it and their lives. Amelia had been at her grandmother’s when it happened, or, at least, that was the story she had been told. It didn’t matter, there was no changing the past. No matter how much she tried, regretting how things had turned out to be was not something within Amelia’s reach. She had been lucky to be adopted by the Reinharts when her grandmother fell ill shortly after her parents’ death. She had grown up loved, pampered and happy. She still came to visit, though. A subtle itch to know what her biological parents had looked like or what kind of people they had been was still present and it drew her to that place once in a while. Perhaps it was her way of showing respect by acknowledging their part in her existence. It felt wrong not to come.

Amelia stopped the music, her hands tugging on the headphones. They fell from her ears, dangling freely as her eyes scanned the darkness beyond the house. Faint noises that she was unable to decipher caught her attention. A woman’s scream and then there was silence. Amelia took out the headphones from the phone and stuffed them into the left jacket pocket. She typed nine one one on the phone, yet refrained from making the call.

She knew she should get into the car and drive away or, at least, lock herself in there and actually make the call. Whatever it was, there was probably nothing she would be able to do about it. Still, what if the woman was in danger? Or what if she had hurt herself and simply needed help? Somehow it still felt like her own backyard, familiar territory and,therefore, danger-free. It was an absurd sense of safety taking over her, like a voice whispering that it was all perfectly okay. Amelia walked forward. She reached the first tree then passed over the imaginary line that marked the entrance into the grove. There weren’t many trees and the light of the moon penetrated fairly well. Phone still out, she carefully advanced. A form lying on the ground became visible soon, then another one not far from it. The first one moved ever so slightly and a moan reached the girl’s ears. It was a man’s voice, but it was still someone who was obviously hurt.

Amelia took a few more steps. The blood was soaking the grass all around the stranger. It was dark, almost black, but obviously it was blood. The other figure a little further showed no signs of movement. Another moan. The man was trying to get up and rest against the nearby tree, but failed to do so. Amelia approached him more. With him being too hurt to even crawl into a sitting position, he was obviously no danger to her.

“Hey, do you need help?” She asked as her steps brought her closer and closer to him. “Don’t move, I’ll call for an ambulance.” His face was bloody as were his clothes, but he was obviously wearing a suit. Her brown eyes traveled to the other figure. There were still no signs of any kind of motion. A gust of wind blew from behind her, carrying her scent in the direction of the wounded stranger.

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The vanilla scent was familiar. When had he experienced it? Recently - it was still fresh in his memory. The blood loss and the pain were making his thoughts blurred. Very blurred. The hunger was eating him from inside and he wanted to scream and release the pain. He had been too cocky and had let his guard down. One of the witches was dead, the other witch had escaped even while badly wounded and the other three attackers weren’t going to have it easy with their injuries either. Still, he had come close. Too close.

Now the current scent was not making things easier, however, behind the vanilla, another one hit him. This time it drove him over the edge as soon as his senses registered it. The rapid heartbeat, the noise of blood rushing through human veins. He wanted to swallow, but was unable to. He saw her. The darkness stole nothing from his eyes. The same girl, the same scent from earlier that evening. Of course, the vanilla scent had caught his attention then as well.

His body shifted and then moved. It was out of his control. The bloodlust had taken over, reminiscent of those days, too long ago, when he had just been turned. The same madness and blind desire. Soon he had her in his steel grip. Her warmth sent waves of pleasure over him. He had her head pushed to the side while her left side of the neck was left exposed for him. Her scream was bliss before it was muffled by her mouth being pressed against his shoulder. He came down on her, fangs so easily piercing her soft skin. Blood rushed from the wound into his mouth, eager to enter his body. Her rapid heartbeat was slamming against his chest, the softness of her breasts against him didn’t go unnoticed either.

Her blood was warm. Not sweet, for blood was only metaphorically sweet to a vampire, instead it was strong, irony, thick, warm, inebriating. Her hands were uselessly pushing against him. Egil swallowed and moaned in pleasure. Drinking blood was a euphoric experience every time, but there was something much more about it this time. It… tasted differently. Better - much better. More powerful. Intoxicatingly blissful. He drank more and moaned against her neck, unable and unwilling to help himself. How foreign it was, yet terrifyingly familiar somehow.

The vampire pressed the woman harder against him, reveling in her heat as well as her blood. Something screamed at the back of his mind. It was all different. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Yet he had tasted it before. He had to stop. Egil knew he had to stop, but getting his body to accept that was going to be difficult. He felt the woman losing strength, her grip and her push became weaker and weaker. He finally found the strength to stop. The desire to continue was torture, but he was used to the internal conflict. He won - barely.

The woman was hardly conscious anymore. There was no strength in her to speak or move. He gently placed her on the ground, holding her head up against his arm. The vampire knew what it meant - what she was - what he needed to do. Snapping a human’s neck was so easy that it almost seemed unfair. His free hand traveled to her blood stained neck, wrapping itself around it, feeling her shallow pulse against his palm.

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Amelia felt so tired that she couldn’t even gather the strength to care about dying or staying alive. His hand was cold against her neck. She did feel a tear escape her left eye as she looked up at her killer. There was a frown on his face, that much was obvious even in the shadows. He was young too, not much older than her, perhaps. Her right hand twitched and she managed to move it as his grip was slowly tightening on her neck. It reached his hand, but then it fell limply by her side. Herm lips moved to form a plea, but no sound made it past them. His grip loosened. Either that or she was losing feeling in her neck. No, it did loosen as his hand also started moving down until it found the hem of her shirt. She felt it being lifted as the cold air invaded her exposed skin.

His eyes traveled to her stomach and then her world finally went dark.

A scene excerpt

This scene is between the Egil presented in the first chapter of the "Diamonds of the Past" story and Mills (Amelia Reinhart), a character who has yet to make an appearance.

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"Careful, your age is showing." Amelia threw the grape into her mouth. "Why do you always have fruit lying around anyway?" She asked while expertly masking all signs of a smile or tease.

Egil's lips were disturbed by a fleeting smile that was doomed to escape the notice of limited human vision. He moved swiftly behind her, his arms glued to his side though they were itching to reach out for even the briefest of physical contact. His body was barely touching hers, but the heat radiating from Amelia was almost maddening. "Aren't you a little too comfortable around me?" Egil allowed his smirk, for she would be unable to see it.

The way her body reacted to him, to his closeness, was like a song and the vampire didn't miss a note. It would have been much more enjoyable were part of him not consumed with how his own body reacted. There were no heart racing or skipped beats on his part, but her scent invaded his every cell and he was dangerously aware of her. Even the few stray hairs tickling his lips were torture. The memory of her taste flooded his mind with such vigor that he had to lick his lips to make sure the taste of her blood in his mouth was no more than a ghost. Amelia was intoxicating in all the right ways. She was intoxicating in all the wrong ways as well.

Why I don't get bored

Sorry, this is not another chapter in the book, instead it's just something I'm writing in the spur of the moment. Maybe you're one of those people who sometimes gets bored. Or you're someone like me who is baffled when other people claim to be bored. Yes, bafflement is the correct word to describe what I feel because I don't understand it. Aside from not having time to be bored, even if, by some miracle, the opportunity to not have anything to do presented itself, I'd just give it a kick in the behind and send it on its merry way.

How does one get bored? If you have a computer, then I assume it's utterly impossible. You can learn with it, read, write, laugh, research, meet new people. The possibilities are endless. If you don't have one or are simply a person who doesn't use it for much, then there's still a whole world out there. You can read books, still learn stuff, take long walks, meet new people. Maybe you have hobbies like crafting, painting, etc. If not, get some. Why would anyone allow boredom to creep in? It's like having a book a looking back at some of the chapters and realizing nothing is happening in them - they're boring... but you bought that book... the price is your life - that book is your life. Don't allow room for boredom for you are stealing your own time.

We don't get another chance at life. Some might believe in reincarnation or some sort of life after death. It's your choice... but what if you're wrong? And so what if you're right? Why waste any moment? Any at all... even if an eternity awaits, people who say they'll start doing stuff tomorrow, usually find an excuse the next day as well. Don't postpone your life, for even eternity might not be as long as you think.

/rant

Chapter 2

THE HIGH COUNCIL

Charis was the last one to stand up from her seat at the High Council table. As usual, she took her time, her expression clearly touched by a frown. Looking up her eyes landed on Aram’s face as he listened to Solon talking about which Senators and Congressmen they had to worry about for passing the blood donation law. It was a great step towards the goal the Council wanted to achieve. What most of its members wanted. Not Charis, although the law had merits that not even she could simply ignore.

The agreement in effect at the time was that, in the US, one percent of all donated blood went to the “cold blood centers” as they were called, from where vampires were able to buy it. A lot more than that was “redirected” at those centers in reality, but it was still not enough. It was a law that protected vampires and humans alike, but they wanted more. The Council was pushing for something unprecedented: all healthy humans over the age of eighteen would be required to donate blood at least once every three months. Such a news, should the law be made reality, was not going to be easily digested, not even after almost seven decades of peaceful co-existence and accommodation.

Word of this had yet to make it out to the press, but it would sooner or later and it was not going to escape passionate controversy. She recalled the fervent and lasting protests after the law legalizing “blood prostitution” was passed. It was still called that, even though most establishments didn’t deal in prostitution at all. It was simply about humans selling their blood, straight from their veins, to paying customers. No sexual favors involved at all - unless it was also the kind of establishment that allowed that. And there were. Of course, for a vampire, drinking blood from a living human being was dangerously close to being a sexual experience just the same.

The law was going to pass. Charis knew that already, for how could it turn out differently? The corruption was at an all time high - it was no longer just the promise of wealth, but a new stake was also shamelessly thrown into the game: the chance at immortality. The Government was mostly under control, as was most of the press, the authorities compliant, while the humans were, for the most part, oblivious.

Aram switched to another topic. Although they had finished the official Council meeting, the discussion wasn’t over yet. An all too familiar word spoken in an ancient accent caught her attention. Aram spoke Anshar’s name the way only those as burdened by millennia did. They had switched to what it always came down to: their sire, their father. Livia, who had been sitting on the table, seductively leaning back while speaking to Valerius, shifted her position to lean slightly forward. The gesture was completely unnecessary for her vampiric hearing allowed her to listen in perfectly, despite the hushed tones they were using.

All eyes were on Solon as he talked about a new lead. His tone as well as expression gave little hope of anything solid coming out of it, but it was still something. Like starving vultures they pursued any and all rumors and possibilities. They all thirsted for their maker like lost souls thirsted for water in the desert. Even Charis - sweet, tormented Charis. A kind soul from the very beginning, raised by her maternal grandmother, Charis had spent her human years learning about plants and how to use them to cure or ease illness. She had met Anshar through Livia’s desire for revenge - and how can anything good come out of that?

Livia was Charis’ biological aunt and had been, supposedly, wronged by Charis’ mother - that, in turn, meant that Charis had to die. It was Anshar who changed the rules of the game and, instead, decided he wanted to break the sweet child and turn her into one of his creations. But he wanted her to want it - and it never happened as he had planned it. A sixteen year old Charis was kidnapped from her home and kept locked up for three years in the house Anshar lived in at the time. Something for Livia to torment and a toy for Anshar’s amusement. Valerius was the only one to show her a sweeter side, even though he refused to help her escape. Their sire had enjoyed toying with her by being kind and loving sometimes, while allowing his monstrous side to surface when she least expected it.

After three long years, Anshar became frustrated with the young woman’s stubbornness. Instead of carrying on with his plan to break her, he simply decided to turn her, out of the blue, and then he released her on a whim. A new vampire is not a creature one can just release into the world, for there is no coherent or rational thought loud enough to pierce the bloodlust one feels in those moments. Charis killed - she killed her grandmother, she killed children, women, innocents and she didn’t stop on her own. She didn’t care. It wasn’t even pleasure she remembered feeling, it simply had been out of her control. He let her loose everyday, with the same outcome, until her sanity, bit by bit, started coming back to her. The fleeting moments of lucidity only came after the killing sprees and the reality of what she had done slammed into her with all the weight of the guilt she felt. She cried, she screamed, she raged until the hunger took over again and Charis fed with passionate surrender.

It lasted for a year before Anshar took pity and started training her to control it. Her maker used her weakness, the bloodlust and her guilt expertly. Yet they shared passion as well. She longed for him and he longed for her. It was still rape - just a different kind.

Livia left on her own after Charis was turned. It had always been difficult for her to share Anshar, but this time it was another of his creations she had to share him with, not some transitory mortal. She was going to return, there was no doubt about that.

After the first twenty years or so, Charis started becoming more and more like her old self with each day that passed. It annoyed Anshar that she was, for all intents and purposes, still unbroken.With Solon it created a rift, for their views on humans and their value differed greatly. Her relationship with Valerius, however, remained unchanged as he accepted and loved her as a sister no matter how she metamorphosed. Despite his wild, unpredictable and apparently immature character, Valerius was the one to care most about family, their dysfunctional, murderous family.

It was shortly after that that Anshar left on his own and, to this day, they have yet to be reunited. Rumors reached them that he had fallen under the curse of a witch, lying in a coma-like state, hidden who knew where. They made progress in finding out why and how and they also learned what to do to reawaken him. They still hadn’t found his body or a serious lead to reveal where its location might have been, but it was only a matter of time before Lady Luck smiled down on them in that regard.

Charis was clenching her fists without realizing, her mouth partially open while she listened to Solon talk about a single private flight from a small town, south of Rome, to the US. It was a long shot, but for information about any flight to be absolutely out of reach for Solon and Valerius’ contacts meant it was something worthy of a thorough investigation. It was not much, yet enough to ignite a humble hope in all of their hearts. Charis’ as well. The monster who had kidnapped, tortured, raped, turned her into a vampire and released her on her own family and on other innocent humans was not a person she should have been harboring any good feelings for. Yet she did. She loved him just like all his other children did. She longed for him and it was more primal than hunger was.

“Fine, make it your priority. Leave no stone unturned, brother.” Aram spoke with a nod towards Solon, then his eyes found Livia. His expression wasn’t something any normal human would be able to read. It changed ever so slightly, but Charis knew what to look for and she caught it. Aram had always been in love with Livia, that much was no secret to any of them. He was the reason Anshar hadn’t left her to die buried in the underground chamber like she had been sentenced. Ever since Anshar’s curse, Livia had directed her passion towards Aram. She loved him deeply as a lover, but everyone knew that Anshar would always come first for her. For each of them, in fact.

The look lasted for only a second. Livia’s expression bordered on apologetic for that same amount of time. Flirtatious, apparently shallow Livia was just as deep, complex and disturbed as the rest of them. How could they not be when more than two and a half thousand years of existence and experience weighed down on their shoulders. Sometimes Charis saw the years in all their faces and actions as well as in her own, while other times they all seemed to fall very short of their ages. No amount of time entirely erased passion, immaturity, desire or the propensity to make mistakes.

Aram looked as impeccable as always, his shoulder-length blond hair neatly pulled back in a low ponytail and his blue-grey suit was tailored to perfection. The Head of the High Council as well as the Head on their family had the most responsibility of them all. He was their leader and the First Generation wasn’t an easy bunch to lead, nor were their goals easy to achieve. Basically it involved finding their cursed sire, releasing him from his coma-like state while, in the meantime, conquering the world with minimal losses on their part. Needless to say, a very long check list was involved.

Aram was the first out the door, followed closely by Solon, his expression just as serious and thoughtful as always. Valerius stepped away from Livia, turning to face both remaining females. “Dearest sisters, I’d love to stick around, but I’m needed elsewhere.” His words were preceded by  his usual boyish, charming smirk. The “needed” part just hinted to the fact that he was out to have fun, whether with his witch conquest or someone else. Livia rolled her eyes and he winked in return. “See you later tonight, Aram’s place?” He added as a question, but it was rhetorical since they were all going to be there without a doubt. Charis simply nodded, while Livia added her signature pout to her nod and she hopped off the table.

Only an old vampire like her would be able to manage such a motion while looking elegant and seductive doing it. It was almost like she floated with how fluid the movement was. As soon as Valerius was out the door, Livia turned toward Charis. Her expression didn’t change. The past in which Livia had sought revenge, the past in which she had been jealous over the attention Anshar bestowed upon the youngest of the First Generation had been long buried.

Livia closed the distance between them until they were one step away from their clothes and bodies touching. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to come and play with me, little sister. There’s this new buffet-club opening tonight and it looks very promising.” Her eyes sparkled with pleasure at the possibilities as she spoke. Livia had big, light-brown eyes that hinted at a green, but never quite reached it. Her finger sensually traced a line upward on Charis’ left arm, from elbow to shoulder as she batted her eyelashes. The older vampire never stopped seducing, it was her second nature and it indeed made her powerful. It wasn’t even something she had to think about or plan anymore. Charis leaned in with her genuine, kind smile and placed a kiss on her lips - it was just a peck - and she whispered against Livia’s full, soft, cold lips. “Amber Unity charity event. You know I can’t miss it, Livia.” A long sigh came from the rejected female. She turned on her heels and spoke without looking back: “I’m out of here then…” Livia flipped her hair back playfully, without turning her head around to look at Charis. “... before you try dragging me to such horridly dull events.” She added, a smirk implied in her tone.

Charis smiled even as her sister exited the High Council meeting room. It was horridly boring indeed, but the young vampire went to many such charitable events. The press knew her best and she made the entire Council look good. It was a double-edged sword, for that meant the High Council gained more power, more influence and were able to better manipulate the public view on vampires. Still, Charis was loyal to the Council and Aram despite her different viewpoints. They were family, they all shared Anshar’s blood and a deep connection to him and that meant that they stuck together no matter what. Besides, she had better chances of protecting what little she was able to when it came to humans if she was working with the Council and not against it.

Aside from all those reasons, first and foremost, Charis went because she was the type to empathize. The female vampire had always cared, trying to be the voice of reason and balance. She was the youngest of her siblings, but her voice demanded their attention and her arguments never went ignored, despite how inconvenient they were to her siblings. It didn’t mean she had any chance of swaying them away from the idea that supernaturals were meant to be at the top and humans had been utterly outranked. It also didn’t mean Charis wasn’t a monster. The youngest had killed and the hunger and lust for human blood was painfully present inside of her just like it was for every other vampire. She killed still, although there was a justification behind each kill. Wasn’t it the case that everyone had justification for each one of their actions as well? Sometimes Charis feared the possibility that she was the most hypocrite among her siblings after all.

Looking down at her cellphone, it was hard to resist the urge to call Michael and see how he was doing. No, she had to give him freedom and trust that he was enough in control of his bloodlust that he wouldn’t get into trouble. There was business to take care of first. Her high heels clicked rhythmically as she too left the room. If only the humans knew what those walls heard during each meeting. Things were changing fast and they weren’t reacting quickly enough. They were, no matter what, going to be swallowed whole.