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Submitted by: mastercylinder On: August 23rd, 2004
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Artist's Comment:
I have updated the story from as it was submitted last night. I tried to refine the actions and such and explain a few more things in the most recent chapter. Also, I have noted the last chapter with an * so that people who have been reading all along will know where to begin...
Blake
This is part 1 through six of my Vampire serial story of 'The Coven'. It is the story of 12 vampires throughout each of thier lives. I present to you now the partialy completed version, the vampires Nythep and Seriana's stories, as they are of now.
And so, Dear Constant Reader, Here is the tale so far...
It was a party to end all parties.
There we were the twelve of us, celebrating the 100th year of our coven.
Vampires from all over the world, each of us unique. Our beginnings, our moving through time, our passions. Our loves. Each of us a part of the whole; different stories to tell, different ages, but all of us here, now, connected by our desire to share with one another our endless lives.
We gather here at the communal mansion once every year, to connect, to hear the stories of the past, to find in each other the part of us that makes us the same. Our ages range from the oldest of us, Nythep (a vampire from ancient Egypt) to the youngest, Darren (80 years old, who hunts the streets of Los Angeles).
Oh, it was a joyous gathering. Each of us bringing a "guest" along with us. The "guests" were actually unsuspecting mortals whom we seduced and invited along. Our "guests" became the main course at a fantastic feast. Once they entered the mansion, it was lights out for them... and a banquet for us. And they were delicious.
Once we had consumed the mortals, we went to the main sitting room and began our recounting of each others lives. Each year we told of our entire stories.
From beginning to end. We never bored with the common details. To us, it was pure fascination, no matter how many times we heard the same beginning, there was always a different end. An entire year would pass to extend the stories further. Sometimes, not much would occur; just the same old thing of awakening and killing, not too exciting to us. But, sometimes, there where great events, perils and escapes, new powers revealed, loves gained and lost. More than you can imagine.
And so we sat, glasses filled with fresh blood, sitting by a preternaturally warm fire, and we began the recounting of our lives...
The first to tell was always the oldest of us. And so, Nythep began his story...
"As you know." Nythep began, "I am the oldest among us. Shall I recant the dates, I don't think so, you've all heard it before. And to immortals, what do dates mean?"
There was a laugh between us. Nythep was very wise. What would a date mean to a vampire? We did not place markers in our lives the way mortals did. Mortals had reasons to do such things; they would place significant moments in context with their physical ages, to give the events meaning in their growth. But vampires live forever. To put such makers on lives eternal would be meaningless. A vampire only grows in strength. We are born into superior knowledge; everything unknown becomes known the moment we open our vampire eyes. Nythep was not only wise, but also the most no-nonsense among us. He had lived too long to bother with the petty details of the passing of time. His story would last all night if he did.
"Yes, what do they mean?" Nythep continued. "As you know I was a slave. I was a carver. Some of the great kings of Egypt trusted me to etche the hieroglyphs in their tombs. I was a lucky slave though, as I was not beheaded after my work was done. I was a pet. The great kings passed me down from one to another for twenty years. I was nearly thirty mortal years old when a God came to me.
I was carving a great Egyptian king's tomb: the magic that would pass the king into the eternal afterlife. It was late at night; the moon was the only light I worked on, refracted deep into the tomb by polished plates. I had noticed the light upon which I worked grow dimmer and dimmer (I found that the God had "dismissed" the plate holders one by one as he approached me). It was an event that only took minutes. One moment I was etching the code for immortality into the grave of my king, the next moment I was immortal. As the light grew dim until it became nonexistent I was in fear. This was not a common occurrence at all. No one neared the making of a king's tomb unless they be killed for such knowledge. So when the light I worked with became fainter and fainter I knew something much greater than a thief approached. I heard the whimpers of the plate holders rise then cease as whatever it was came to claim me. And there, in the darkness of the tomb, on a dark moonlit night, the God Horus came to me."
"Carver," He said, "This king to which you slave is now dead. Your work is unfinished. He will pass into the afterlife in only half. I will not allow you to finish! I am Horus, and you shall bow!".
Even though the light that had refracted down to me was gone and I was in complete darkness, I could not disobey the eyes of Horus. In that darkness I saw him. His powerful eyes glowing. Glowing so strong that I was able to see His entire face. It seemed to float in the black, contourless, a statue come to life, the only movement from His mouth, and he said, "You have served the great kings well, carver. Now you will serve a God,!" with that the glowing face lunged at me with terrible speed. I was at once taken into powerful hands and my neck felt the most excruciating pain. I felt long teeth pierce my skin and the sensation of cold lips latch onto my neck. I felt the sensation of sucking at my throat and my warmth blood flowing into that cold mouth. I was helpless. And I had no desire to resist! I was being held by the grip of a God! Me, a slave! My thoughts swam as my consciousness began to fade. Horus! The God of Egyptian Gods, son of Osiris, born and reborn, immortal God of the night, I was at his service, and I was dying for Him."
Nythep broke from his story, as usual at this point. We were all with eyes on him, anticipating his continuance. "Of course you know what happened next," he said. "It is the same with us all... we die and are then given the immortal blood and live once again!" Nythep smiled, his face a statue come to life, no line or feature, just a work of stone in white suddenly moving to form a grin. To be truthful, all of us were in awe of Nythep. He was thousands of years old. The second oldest among us, Seriana, was only born during the renaissance, only hundreds of years old. None of us held a candle to Nythep. He had lived before us and had lived through all of our times! He was the oldest vampire in the world! " I shant waste any time trodding through the details of my transition, we all know what that is like," a murmur of agreement throughout the coven, "But, I shall say, once I was reborn, and my God Horus stood above me, I suddenly was able to see him completely. Even though we were in complete darkness, I saw Him! He was tall above me. Dressed in gold and cotton, weaved in the most intricate patterns. He wore a crown that had a snake in front ( I once knew what this meant, but my memory is too full to truly recall all things from the thousands of years past). And Horus spoke, "Now, carver, you are a servant to the night! Slave to no king. You are free!"
Nythep stopped again, looking from one to all of us, "as you know, Horus left me there. The swiftness of his exit as startling as what had just occurred. In one moment I was at the service to a God, the next I was alone in the darkness of a tomb. Instinctually, I left the tomb and headed out in the desert towards the "city". I found there a mortal on which I fed. The first time is always the best, isn't it?" a nod of agreement from us all. " I took him.... a boy no older than 13, on his way home or to one of the temples. I took him. His blood a feast. I never felt more alive in this endless death than then. I, of course, went through time as usual; every night finding a human to feed upon. As you know I have fed upon thousands of humans.: From ancient Egypt until today. I have had a seamless existence. I have moved through time without a true adventure to tell. My only real event was when I met Seriana in Italy. She was the first vampire I had met since Horus. And she awakened me to a wonderful time in human history"
Nythep looked toward Seriana, "Shall you conclude my story and begin yours?"
Seriana, who sat in the darkest corner of the room, smiled at Nythep. Her lovely black hair flowing over the shoulders of her red dress. Her eyes like fire; yellow and gold and speckled with orange. She raised her glass and sipped of blood, then, licking the blood from her red lips, she spoke, "My dearest Nythep, there is so much more of your precious life than you have told, and you pass it on to me... Have you grown bored of the tale?" Seriana's eyes widened and glowed against the fire light.
Nythep let out a little laugh, the marble of his face animating, his fiercely sharp teeth showing. Then a simple answer... "Yes."
Seriana turned her head to the side but kept her eyes upon him.
Nythep spoke, "I only pass it to you because you tell it so well..." The statue of Nythep winked.
Seriana smiled again, "I can only tell what I know, and through our love I can only tell it."
"Then tell of it as it comes, through our love and of any other way, my Dear."
And so, Seriana began the story...
"How shall I begin this time? I think I shall cut to the chase.... I was born, mortal birth, in the year 1520, to a poor, yet artistic family in Italy. I grew up, a girl considered gifted with beauty. It was in my twentieth human year that an artist fell in love with me. His name was Michael Forpetio; forgotten now in the great scope of History, but then, during the great Renaissance, he was a popular artist! He painted grand visions, mostly of religious events. The story of Jesus was his fascination; and I was his model. To him, I was the embodiment of the Virgin Mary (and in a couple the model for the Magdalene). I would sit for him, and he would gaze upon me with the most lustful gaze. I felt as if he wanted more from me than just a silent subject, to touch me, to paint me as the Virgin, but to have me as the Magdalene. I think his genius stemmed from this contradiction in his emotions, but he was always the gentle painter in the end; never advancing on me, and always rendering me in the most deep of pure and spiritual manner."
Seriana sipped of the blood again then spoke, "I knew Michael was in love with me. And I was falling in love with him; the artist who portrayed me as both Virginal and a Whore. It inticed me, his contradictory feelings; After all, I was a woman... But to physically consummate our feelings for each other was impossible... we both had a silent agreement that this would ruin this love! It was pure as it was, and we left it at that." Seriana looked at the fireplace then, thoughtful. We all knew that there was sadness in her thoughts. A vampire longs for love, and any love lost, even mortal love, is tremendous.
"So we went on as is, for five years, Michael painting me, me sitting, forgotten masterpieces created. The paintings would end up in the low galleries of the time. Hanging, un-bought, admired but shunned for that unexplained sensuality even in the most biblical of depiction's. And then, one night as I left my dear artist, Michael, a man came to me as I rounded a corner heading towards my home." Seriana closed her eyes for a moment... "He stood in front of me and blocked my passage. I was fearful; this was an aggressive meeting, but then he spoke in the most ethereal and soothing manner... 'My beautiful Mary,' he said, obviously referring to the paintings. I froze, afraid, but he lifted a hand and said, 'I mean you no harm. I am just an admirer of you. The painter has not yet captured your true beauty.'
I stood there, in the darkness of the night. My fear faded slightly, I do not know why. Maybe it was the unnatural smoothness of his voice, like a gentle breeze... I do not know. I could see that he was very pale, like a man inflicted with plague, yet he did not seem to be sick! He appeared very strong actually and his eyes glowed like fire.
He spoke again, 'My name is David.'
"My name is Seriana," I said, compulsively.
'I know,' He smiled, 'and I love you.'
I felt dizzy then and my eyes closed for only a moment. When I opened them he was gone."
Seriana paused, thoughtful, then said, "I thought that I had had a dream... or a vision. You must understand that at the time, 1545, that the idea of having a "vision" was not unheard of. Mortals of the age confessed to all sorts of things; from visions, to religious raptures, possessions and many other unexplained events. So I stood there, in the darkness of the corner, swooning, thinking I had had some sort of symbolic encounter; unable to decipher its meaning, but assured that it was only a vision!
So I went home. A week later, Michael called upon me, but not to ask that I sit for him, but with great news! He told me that every painting he had done of me, that hung in every low gallery in Italy, had been bought within the last week! Not a single painting was left hanging that I had posed for. Michael was elated, he said, 'At last!!! My work is loved!!!', but I felt... No, I knew, just exactly what had occurred. Michael's paintings had not been bought due to his masterful skill, not because of his unique stroke of tempura and dye and depiction of holy angst... But because of the infatuation of some strange man, a vision on a dark corner on a darker night. Of a man with a demon's eyes and an angel's voice. A man named David. And I knew then that David had sought out and bought every painting done by Michael Forpetio that I had ever posed for..."
Seriana's fiery eyes glowed brightly, some unspoken thought amusing her as she smiled. "I kept it a secret from Michael, of course. I was so happy to see him overjoyed, believing that it was his talent that had sold the paintings and not because of the strangers confession of love to me. And, actually, when news of this mass buying spread throughout Italy, Michael did become famous, and people, the nobles and the rich began to commission from him. Mainly they wanted portraits of themselves (always the vain desires of those with influence and money. They never wanted what the artist could create of their own... they wanted the artist as a servant, to depict cowards as Martyrs, the influential as Icons)." She laughed, "Both of which they rarely ever where."
The Coven laughed in agreement.
"Michael called upon me less and less in the weeks after, but it didn't bother me at all. In that time I was preoccupied by the thoughts in my head of that stranger with the eyes of fire. I found myself thinking more and more of him. Also, when I ventured out into the nights thereafter, I felt watched... I cannot fully describe the feeling, but I felt eyes upon me, hidden eyes, like the shadows themselves held this stranger named David, every corner turned I felt he would be there to meet me again, every doorway opened he would be on the other side. It was nearly six months later that David came to me again...
Seriana sighed, her red lips even redder with the fresh blood upon which she drank from the delicate glass in her slender hands. Before it even happened, Seriana's eyes quickly darted towards the great cathedral window of the sitting room... lightning struck and Seriana's eyes widened; the flames glowing brighter. Then her eyes went to Nythep. The Coven's gaze followed hers...
Nythep sat perfectly still, but the look on his face was of the one self-pleased, "I couldn't help it," he laughed, "I thought that a little dramatic effect might be amusing." He folded his great white hands together and became the immovable statue once more. We all knew that Nythep had powers beyond the rest of us; powers we could not even imagine. He was ancient and strong, had lived and learned of the dark crafts before any of us were even born! And lighting was probably the smallest of magic that he could create. We all respected Nythep, not only for his age and wisdom, but for the mystery he held, and held from us. In fact we feared Him! Even though we commune once a year here at the Mansion, a Vampire is still a very selfish being. We tell our stories but we do not tell our... secrets.
"Thank you for that nice touch of Drama, Nythep," Seriana raised her glass to him, "But the most dramatic of events have yet to be told in my opinion." It started to rain then, heavy drops of water, wave upon wave, splashed against the great window. Nythep shrugged, a satisfied grimace on his face.
"And so the mood is set, my friends," She continued. "It was nearly six months from our last meeting that the Vampire David came to me with a proposition. I was at my home, preparing for bed when suddenly my window flew open. A gust of wind filled my apartment and I ran and shut the window. When I turned around there he was... David. He stood as still as a painting, dressed in black, the only life came from his eyes! They burned like fire, literally Fire!
"I wish to paint you," was what he said.
I was terrified. This intrusion sent waves of fear through me, "Get... Get out!
"I wish no harm upon you dearest, let me paint you..." David glided to me, his hands rising as he advanced, long fingers stretching out to touch me.
"No," I breathed as he came to me and his strong and slender arms wrapped around me. His eyes the brightest flames of the greatest fire ever! I felt weak in his grasp, helpless. His hand moved up my body and grasped my head, forcing me to look into his face. His eyes! Those great and powerful EYES OF FIRE! My vision was filled with those eyes as he bit into my neck. But it wasn't pain that followed... It was lust! Like David was penetrating me sexually! I felt every bit of him enter inside of me, strong and passionate. And then the sensation of my blood being drawn out of me through his deep bite, my head swimming, my body in uncontrollable submission. My hands reached and clasped onto his back and held tight for dear life. The force of his mouth on my neck, sucking the very breath from me, my very life from out my veins; I was in the grip of the most sensual experience I have ever had in my mortal and undead life!
David's body pressed against me and we fell to the floor. I felt his great weight upon me as my head swooned and darkness began to take over. Then he pulled back and looked me in the eyes, "And now you die," he said, "But you will awaken once again... and I will be waiting for you..."
Seriana swirled the blood in her glass, staring at it, her eyes becoming brighter as the flames grew in intensity. "My transformation was different from the rest of you," she said. "David was no ordinary Vampire, as I am no ordinary Vampire." She set the glass down on the side table next to her. She then folded her soft white hands in her lap and looked around the room, "I remember little of what happened next. The passion inside of me as David held my gaze, my consciousness fading. I tried to lift my hands but it felt as if I was working against water. I was drowning; my vision descending into blackness, my limbs heavy. David's face dimming until only his eyes could be seen.... and I saw fire in those eyes. When I say fire I mean it! Its as if his face were a mask and behind it was an inferno. I know I am different from the rest of you. My eyes being the most noticeable. As you can see, I have those eyes! When I am hungry, or am feeding... or even just excited my eyes look like flames! How do we classify ourselves amongst ourselves? I am not the only one with a characteristic that sets us apart." Seriana looked towards Warren who sat across the room. Warren grimaced in self pleasure. He knew what Seriana meant... Warren was a Psychic Vampire, a Mind-Worm as we called them. He sapped the life-energy from humans just as we drank blood. The Psychic Vampire was actually the most dangerous of all Vampires; they lived, through night and daylight, amongst humans, draining and feeding off the very life-force of anyone who was within their parameter; they could drain you dry before you even know what happened!
Seriana looked towards Jerod and Paulina to complete her point, "How do we tell of the difference between us without sounding mute?" she said. "I am different from you, all of you, as you are different from me..." Seriana ran her finger around the top of her glass, a slight musical tone arose, "My mortal life ended then as David held me in his arms. When I regained consciousness I felt the warmth of blood in my mouth and I was laying in my bed. David stood above me. I immediately saw that his entire being was alight with a blue glow. What I mean is that he now appeared to me with an aura; David was outlined by light! He was smiling and his eyes still appeared as if flames raged behind the mask of his face."
'Awaken, My Love'
"Is what he said. And I sat up and looked around my room. Everything seemed to glow. I got up from my bed and went to my mirror. When I gazed at my face I saw that I had become as white as stone... but my eyes where aflame; the same fire that raged in David's eyes now raged in my own!
"I turned and David was right behind me then. Close, and he wrapped his slender arms around me and kissed my lips."
'My love... Tomorrow I shall paint you,' he said, ' and tomorrow your true beauty shall be captured...'
*
Seriana smiled, her bright teeth and fangs showing, a tight working of top and lower jaw. She loved to show her teeth as she had the most perfect set of fangs amongst us; symmetrical and white; razor sharp pearls . Her excitement of telling her story showed as the fire of her eyes began to intensify. Pupil and cornea replaced by licks of bright flame! Her complexion grew pinker, as if she was human.
We did not know what type of Vampire she was... we just knew she was ... different.
"I touched my face as I looked in the mirror," she continued, " And I felt as hard as stone. David came into view behind me and his hands went around and held my breasts; I was frightened, but I knew a great transformation in me had occurred, a change that was not... bad, but still monumental. His grasp secured me, made me feel [I]less[/I] afraid."
'What has happened to me?' I said.
'You are now Forever.'
'What Am I?'
'Immortal,' and David kissed my neck, 'as your beauty is immortal. You must sleep now and when you awaken.... I shall paint you as you have never been painted before.' He turned me around to face him, "This ... Artist has never seen your true beauty... I have, and Do!" David took my hand and we left the room. We fled as swift as the wind. It was unbelievable the strength I felt; we passed by mortals who did not even see us! We now held the power of knowing the shadow and the ability of preturnatural speed. Things seemed to move naturally for us, as if we were human, but to humans our movements would be terrifyingly fast. He led me through the streets of Italy, through dark and abandoned alleyways, until we arrived at a cemetery. We went to a grand tomb and he led me don into the depths. A coffin was there, empty and pristine. "Sleep here, my Love, and tomorrow, when the sun is setting... I will come for you again..."
(to be continued...)
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