We are the Flame [1]

[Editing required! lol. Okay, this is just a side project, I'm only allowing myself one chapter of this for every two of POD. This is so I don't get carried away and drop POD. It's for the good of my pride. =D But I hope you like this just as well.)

1

The light blue fire of those eyes was embedded in my memory. Half a century of new memories of a new existence. All made better by those cerulean orbs of life. Oh, how I obsessed over them. Dreamed for, longed for, almost killed for.

“Victor.” I woke with the breath of his name on my lips. He

never answered that breath, though I know he heard it. Wherever existence

had taken him, my memory would follow like a curse. Just as the memory

of his eyes and the memory of his body had become part of who I was, my

voice had become a part of his.

One could go a long time with memory. Humans forgot what the

others wish they could. They forgot childhood, we never forgot that first

time. They forgot first kisses, we never forgot our makers.

Victor. The one without a kiss, so they called him. He was the

maker of new vampires, constantly hunted by humans and the powers

alike. All wanted him dead for some reason or another. The power in his

lovers was a frightening amount. As was the power in me.

I have sustained on the power of those above for years without

once touching them. I have discovered the animal of my bidding without

the touch of one. I have found my strengths and weaknesses without once

touching them.

For near a quarter of a decade life has been one moment of

solitude bleeding into the next. Without day, without night, without life or

death. Void of all that I had ever known.

I am nothing but history. My presence no longer effects the air,

the air no longer effects my presence. It is a cycle of nothing, yet it has

everything in it.

Nothing but the past, with no promise of the future. I would

have protested, had I known there was more to this existence. Had I known

there was more to being unable to die, yet incapable of living; I would have

fought.

I was born into the undead to Victor. He took me, and taught

me how to die. For twenty-five years we lived below the living. Hiding in

power. Waiting for me to be ready to pass. Pass to where? He never told

me.

Victor was my maker. My lover. He was drawn away by business,

and never returned, leaving me trapped below, not knowing what it meant

to pass. I would sit for hours, staring into the many tunnels created for

me. I memorized their contours, the texture of the silky earth that made

the walls, and the damp ground. My dress was frayed on the edges, the

color would have been faded, had there been a son to do the fading. Dirt

soaked it’s way up to my knees, and the laces of my corset had been worn

away long ago.

My skin was so pale that it glowed in the darkness, and my ink

black hair had been too long without tending. It was frayed and dirty,

tangling down to my ankles, now lightly brushing against the ground as I

walked.

The tunnel was as it was everyday, too dark to hold promises,

yet too light to be a form of death.

The image of cerulean was still in my eyes when I heard it. So

faint it most would have dismissed it. But I was the only thing that made

noise down here, something had joined the party.

I turned to face the direction of the noise. Crouched low I was

ready for combat, my eyes scanned the darkness for any shadow of

movement. A bright flash crossed the wall far away. It was enough to burn

my eyes. So unused to any form of light. I was momentarily blinded.

“I think I saw something.” the voice was a light caress from as

far as the light was. I heard the footsteps, heard voices. Yet I saw nothing.

“Holy shit.” It was closer now. I could see the lights from my

blindness but that was all.

My vision returned in spots. Only enough for me to see vague

shapes holding so much light in their hands.

“Is she one of Victors? Do you think?” the voice asked.

“I do not know.” The second voice was slightly European. Power

was held in that voice. My heart, held still for so many years, began to beat in fear.

“She must be. It’s the right setting.”

“Then where is Victor?”

“He’s not here.” The lights stung my slowly healing eyes. The

fact that my heart was beating scared me almost more than these

outsider’s presence.

“We should get her.” It was the first voice. Why would they talk so out rightly while I was right here?

I took in my first breath in almost twenty-five years, and used it

to hiss at them.

It was a wild sound, even to me. I felt my fangs extend, a small

amount of liquid dripped from them. It was a blood thinner, and it numbed

the pain from the victims. The disease was also held in them. Poison.

“Get her,” The second voice said. I hissed again, louder than

the first. I felt my eyes bleed to a purple fire, and I could suddenly see the

intruders.

One was my kind. He was tall with long, dark blonde hair. The

other was a female, also tall, but with brunette hair. She wasn’t vampire,

yet she was still his. The woman was holding a silver gun, it looked like

none I had ever seen.

“Colette, now.” The vampire said it with a stern tone, yet he was

not angry with her. It reminded me of the way Victor used to speak to me.

The woman, Colette pointed her gun at me, and before I could

move away something hit my neck. It was not painful, but I knew

something wasn’t right. I was just about to lung for them when whatever hit

me took over, and I passed out.

_______________________

Like I said...editing required.

-JC