Fever . . .
*sits up gently, not wanting to wake Bastiaan as my restlessness becomes more than I can take. memories playing in my mind like a reel from a film I thought long put away. silently pull my journal from the drawer next to our bed, pen in hand I begin to write*
Fever. Paris. One in the same. Paris is like a fever that spreads through my body, heating up my memories of long ago. All this time we have been in Paris I was sure that particular plague had bypassed me. But I was mistaken. These past few weeks being back from our extensive travels have woken up that fever within me and now I am unable to ignore it. *reading back over the few words written. words that would lead another to believe it is a malady that is incurable. not true so I continue*
Paris. My home. As much a home as I remember from so very long ago. A young girl living with her family, a full life and a new love. I remember so little yet at times I feel as though I am on the very precipice of remember more. As the centuries pass, I wonder sometimes do I really need to know? Are those memories so important that they need to be present in the here and now or the future? *sets the pen down and turns my head to look over at the man who rests beside me. he does not care where i come from or who i was. he only cares that i am his and he is mine. together. one. blessed. a word not often used by our kind. all that i am belongs to him. we are one. looks down at the page, picking up the pen poised to continue until a flash of memory quickly plays out stopping me from moving the pen across the paper. it is fleeting. harsh. painful. enough to cause me to want to catch a breath i do not need and then, it is gone* That memory is one I am use to. It was the night of my death. So unexpected and terrifying that even now it causes me distress. *writes the words…* It matters not how I was made the way I am. It only matters that I am.
*looks again at Bastiaan sleeping beside me knowing that whatever my past would have given me.. my human past.. it would never have been what I have right now and that is all that matters. continues*
Bastiaan and I have been in Paris for months now. Though we miss our home in New Orleans, we have acclimated well to living here at the Coven House and have even managed a some-what amicable truce with Armand. I can credit him for making me strong, no longer afraid of what he might do to me and no matter how horrible the memories of our encounters long ago, he has given me strength I believe would not have been found had it not been for his cruelty and … dare I say … guidance. Armand and I will always have our differences, of that I am sure but as time moves forward the past moves back. That does not happen because I am a vampire, it happens because that is the way of things. A road stretched before you also consists of the one behind you when you turn your head and look back over your shoulder.
*continues to write* I have many stops along the way from the path that is behind me. Louis is another. From the time of our first meeting, which was on my part, hatred, to now we have traveled many milestones together. For a very long time he was the one I saw when I would lay in my coffin, and yes there was a time I took my rest in one of those closed and very confining contraptions, his face the one etched behind my eyelids when they would close in pain. Back along that road no longer traveled, ending his life was a driving force that kept me and… *hesitates* Santiago alive. After what Louis had done to the Theatre that long ago night, centuries would pass before he would know that the very vampires he thought had escaped were in fact two that had caused him so much rage and desire for revenge. I had risen from my coffin in flames, the horrifying reality of being burned alive was what drove me into action. The scene of what was happening to Santiago by Louis’ hand might have been missed if it had not been for the water I had landed in instinctively as my body was being consumed by flames. The building was collapsing all around me but through the flames I saw Santiago’s body crumble to the floor, his head landing only mere seconds later next to him. Louis had not hesitated, fleeing immediately as the ancient beams of the room had started to fall all around him and I, only thinking of my lover, had grabbed onto Santiago with all the strength I could manage and had taken him and his head out through a secret passage that lead into the sews and wound it’s way under the city.
*sets down the pen for a moment silently chuckling at the myths that surround us… vampires. feet crossed at the ankles I have to shake my head at writers who think we disintegrate into a pile of dust or explode in a ball of flames with nothing left but scorch marks to prove we existed or better yet, a slimy heap of runny goo. that has to be my favorite. non… that is not what happens to us. vampires have regenerative powers. if we lose a finger we simply pick it up and hold it into place thus the body’s own need to survive takes over. bone, nerves, muscle, tissue and finally our skin all become one again. so it was with Santiago. oh… but the pain of it all. his screams will never leave me. even now, centuries later, i can still hear him screaming out to me, begging me to end it for him as the pain was too much for him to bare. the pain of my own charred and burned flesh was nothing compared to his yet i refused to let it end there for us. years passed as we healed slowly, plotting our revenge against Louis*
*looks down at the pen, picks it up and continues writing… leaving out secrets better left kept and not written in these pages*
And so it was that Santiago and I spent many years in the sews of Paris, bidding our time while we healed and plotting our revenge against Louis. Yet… something happened during that time that kept us from going through with our plans.
Blood lust…
We emerged from our dark, putrid, rat infested hole with a thirst that COULD not and WOULD not be quenched. We swept across Paris, Auvergne, all of France killing without discrimination and unheeded were ANY and ALL rules of the vampires. We were no longer part of a coven. Santiago and I, for all that we knew, were the only two vampires in existence and Louis? Well, Louis was just a distant memory by the end of our blood lust killing spree. Over 100 years had passed, it was done.
Santiago…
*dare i continue on this train of thought? glancing over at Bastiaan once again…* Fever… Yes… Paris and Santiago were one and the same…
Many things happened in the span of time while healing, becoming stronger. Santiago and I changed with them. We had been together a long time before the fire and after… no matter how close we thought we were, nothing was ever the same. We loved, lusted, killed, and lusted more but our reign came to a close so abruptly one night that nothing would ever right it again. In the years since, we have tried to reconnect… bring back the decadence that had drawn us together but it was not meant to be. Recently… *my hand moves to touch Bastiaan as he moves closer to me possibly feeling my unrest in his own sleep… seeking to console me and pull me into rest with him. bending down to whisper in his ear…* Not yet amour… but soon… *runs my fingers gently through his hair pushing him deeper into sleep*
*continues to write* So it has been through-out the centuries that not only this Coven but myself have changed greatly. As this New Year came to light, my marriage to Bastiaan and him becoming a part of the Coven was put in the annals of record. Daniel has been re-united with his love, Siren and the Coven now has a demon roaming the halls causing mischief. My Lady Mine, Aosoth.*smiles thinking of how her union with Lestat came to be* I sometimes wonder if the two of them thank me or curse me for such a union. I am only guilty of sending her to deliver the letter to him in NOLA, not for events that happened after. *what they do not know will always remain my little secret* Soon we will hear the tiny cries of a new Coven member. Satin Rain and Driscoll’s child will be arriving sometime in July. There is not one vampire here that could have foretold of this day soon to come. Her love for Driscoll, oui, but a child? There are no words to describe my own feelings on this, let alone speak for anyone else. The wedding that took place last weekend was indescribable. I sat watching as she and Driscoll made their vows to each other but my mind drifted back to when she was first brought to us, the years that passed as she became more and more like her nickname, mon imp. The way she worked magic on each and every one of us until there was no doubt that she was truly “our child” It has been said that she “owns” us and to this very day I could not argue the point.
*sets the pen down feeling my own pull to rest now. closing the journal and putting both back inside the drawer quietly not wanting to disturb Bastiaan. many many changes over the centuries… oui. curls myself into Bastiaan’s arms and settles into the curve of his body… his arms banding around me, holding me tight. smiles… my eyelids growing heavy but before drifting off into rest with him… whispers*
Many many more to come….
