Oblivion
Part 2
by
Lyraine
E-Mail: lyraine@yahoo.com
Chapter Two
An eternity passed in darkness and agony. Blindly, painfully, David struggled towards wakefulness. Gods, that had been a bad one. When the nightmares first started, they hadn't been nearly so vivid. This one had truly seemed real. Shivering a little, he felt as though ice had somehow seeped deep into his bones. He was colder than he had ever been in his entire life. Opening his eyes cautiously, he winced at the brightness of the light. Narrowing his eyes to mere slits, he realized that he was lying on his back beneath a full moon. Uneasy and slightly frightened now, he turned his head slightly knocking it painfully on the base of one of the standing stones. Standing stones? Shit. Head spinning wildly, he sat up abruptly. What in hell was going on?
As his vision cleared, David looked in disbelief around the clearing. Had it been a nightmare then? Or had it been horribly, unfathomably real. Looking down at his bare chest brought a gasp of horror to his lips. He literally glistened with blood. He was absolutely soaked, just as if his throat had truly been torn out. Slowly, unwillingly, he stood, raising a shaking hand to touch his throat. His relief at finding it smooth and unblemished was short lived.
A low, throaty voice spoke from behind him, "It's about time you awakened my darling, it's nearly dawn. We need to take shelter."
A chill passed over David at the sound of the voice, and he shuddered violently as he turned to face her. Her hair was quiescent now, and she was every bit as beautiful and inhuman as his memory painted her. She reached out one delicately pointed, blood red nail and trailed it tenderly down his still cheek.
"I'd hate to see your beauty marred so soon," she purred "I've only just begun to taste it. We must go now." She held out a slender hand toward him.
When he hesitated, her face twisted into a rictus of rage. "Make no mistake," she snarled, "You are MINE! You only wake by MY will. If not for me you would not breathe and walk. What I have given, I can still take. Now follow!" She turned abruptly, stalking off between the standing stones. Slowly, and with great trepidation, David followed.
Walking behind her this way, he had a chance to study her unobserved. She was tall and slender, and she moved with an almost feline grace. Even from behind there was something feral about the way she moved, like a predator on the hunt. In it's solomnent state, her hair was much like Meredith's. Raven-dark, it hung past her waist to taper into a point just even with her shapely, well-rounded derriere. Meredith's hair had been auburn rather than black, but it had hung and shifted the light in precisely the same way. The style was even identical. In fact, David realized suddenly, other than the way she moved and the color of her hair, she looked exactly like Meredith from behind. An odd knot began to form in the pit of his stomach.
After walking several times counter-clockwise around the ring of stones, she stopped beside one of the outer stones. David watched in silence as she traced a pattern on the stone with one scarlet taloned finger, then began to sing as she had the night before. Almost immediately, David heard a deep grinding noise and a large hole opened in the ground in front of her. Beckoning to him once more, she stepped into the hole. Not knowing what else to do, he followed her down a set of deep-set, stone stairs. Cut from the rough stone of the hillside, the passage of countless feet had worn the stairs smooth in the center. It seemed apparent that they had been well used for many years. The staircase was lit by sullenly guttering torches held in tarnished metal sconces. Judging from the patina of the sconces set into the walls, these stairs had been here for centuries. That fit, he thought to himself, people had been vanishing from the area for centuries. It became more likely with each passing moment that the woman he followed had had everything to do with the disappearances. What was she? Shuddering, he realized that he had found what he had been seeking for so long. It was dreadfully obvious however, that it had been in no way what he had expected to find. There would be no welcoming oblivion here, no sought after reprieve from his pain and sorrow.
He knew he would have to find a way out as quickly as possible. There was no doubt that she would kill him eventually. A chill went down his spine as he remembered the agony of her fangs sinking into his throat. There was no way he wanted to go through that again. Even the memory was almost unbearable in its intensity. Too, he wondered what use she had for him. It was obvious that she had some reason to keep him around, or he would no doubt be lying under the standing stones while quarreling scavengers picked at his bones.
Abruptly, the steps leveled off into a rough-hewn floor, and the walls widened into an opulently furnished stone chamber. It was forbiddingly medieval in appearance. The walls were hung all about with richly draped red velvet, and heavily accented in what looked like gold. Huge overstuffed chairs were carelessly grouped on a thick Persian rug, and a sideboard as well as several scattered tables looked for all the world like rich, antique black walnut. An archway on the opposite side of the room was flanked on both sides by grotesque four-armed statues. Their hands and feet were brutally taloned, and they had the heads of some huge raptor. The wickedly hooked beaks were slightly open as if ready to sound an alarm, or rend unsuspecting flesh without warning. From where he stood, they looked like some bizarre mythical warriors, viciously armed with immense double-headed axes. So boldly were they sculpted, they almost looked like living sentinels. Their eyes glowed in the flickering torchlight, giving the illusion of movement. Looking over his shoulder, David realized that there was an identical pair guarding the foot of the stairs.
David watched her out of the corner of his eye. She crossed the thick rug and draped herself languidly on one of the huge chairs. From this vantage point she watched with amusement as he looked around the room. Something inside of him snapped. He had enough of the mystery and weirdness, too much in fact. It was high time he got some answers. Abruptly, he barked out an oddly staccato series of questions. "What the hell is going on? Where are we? What do you want with me? Who are you?" The words tumbled out of him so fast, that he couldn't even breathe.
Her amber eyes narrowed to slits as she looked at him. It was all he could do to hold himself steady under her dark stare. Abruptly shifting her eyes away, she replied quietly. "Who or what?"
"Both."
"I have been called many things over many centuries, vampire, demon, lamia, undead… In this time, here with you, my name is Anne." She paused, pretty much for effect, David thought. "Anne, mother of Meredith. What I want, need…" Her voice broke with emotion, yet it took but a moment for her to collect herself. When she spoke again, her voice was cold steel. "What I shall have, is reparation!"
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(c) M.C. Sak 3/22/99