Deeper than the Night

Chapter II

I walked through the house, looking for Lilith. For the first time, I noticed that heavy draperies covered every window, and when I opened one, I saw there were shutters on the outside. I wandered through the downstairs, but she was nowhere to be found. I paused at the bottom of the winding staircase, looking up at the darkness beyond. She had forbidden me to ever go upstairs, but on this night, something drew me. Something stronger than fear of discovery, stronger than mere curiosity.

I knew, with every step that I took, that I was embarking on a journey from which there would be no return, yet something compelled me onward.

I think, even now, that I knew what I would find when I opened her door. Perhaps I had always known. Perhaps it wasn't the power of her mind that had clouded mine all this time, but my own fear.

Mouth dry, heart pounding, I opened the door to Lilith's room, and came face to face with a scene out of one of my childhood nightmares: Lilith, dressed all in black, bending over the body of a young boy.

Though I hadn't made a sound, she looked up, her amber-colored eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. A collage of ghastly images imprinted themselves on my mind: the boy's face, completely drained of color, the crimson stains on the white bedspread that matched the blood dripping from Lilith's lips.

She hissed at me, her eyes blazing. And then, very gently, she lowered the boy's body to the bed and stood up. Slow step by slow step, she walked toward me. Every instinct I possessed screamed at me to run, but I could not move. I could only stand there, horrified, knowing that every nightmare I had ever had was about to come true.

"You should not have come here." Her voice was low and filled with rage.

I tried to speak, to tell her I was sorry, but the words wouldn't come. I could only stare at her face, at the blood that stained her lips.

She put her hand on my shoulder, let it slide down my arm. "You are a beautiful man, Alesandro," she remarked, her voice soft, seductive. "I had hoped to wait another year or two to bring you over, but now . . ." She lifted one slender shoulder. "The Dark Gift should not be bestowed on those who are too young."

I was trembling now, more frightened than I had ever been in my life. She knew it, and it pleased her.

"Please." I forced the word past dry lips. "Please."

"Please what?" she asked, her voice silky, her eyes blazing hotter and hotter.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

I glanced at the body lying on her bed. "I don't want to be like you."

Slowly, she looked over her shoulder, then back at me. "I see. Would you rather be like him?"

I stared at her, repelled by both choices.

Lilith stroked my cheek. Her hand, usually cool, was warm. Her cheeks were flushed. I flinched as her nails bit into my cheek, breaking the skin. There was blood on her hand when she drew it away, and I watched in horror as she licked my blood from her fingers.

"Sweet," she purred. "I knew you would be sweet."

"No." I took a step backward, turned to run, only to feel her hand on my arm. I was tall and muscular. She was small and slender, yet she held me fast in her grip, and I was powerless against her.

She smiled, exposing her fangs. I knew then what real fear was. Panic-stricken, I lashed out, my fist driving into her face. I had felled grown men with that blow. Lilith didn't flinch. Her hands turned into claws, her fingers digging into my arm, tearing through cloth and flesh. With a groan, I dropped to my knees.

Lilith knelt beside me, eyes burning. "I cannot bear to kill you," she said. "But I fear I cannot let you go. You have seen too much, and you know where I rest. And so . . ."

She drew me into her arms, holding me against her. She smelled of blood and reeked of death.

"Please," I said, hating the weakness in my voice, the trembling I could not control.

"It will be soon over, mon ange," she crooned, and she bent over me, blocking everything else from my sight, so that I saw nothing but her face, and the fires of the damned that burned in the pitiless depths of her eyes.

I felt her teeth at my throat. Fear suchas I had never known rose up within me, and then the fear was gone, overshadowed by an ecstasy that was almost sensual. My strength drained away. It grew hard to breathe, to think.

And then I was drifting, floating, lighter than air. Darkness closed in around me, darker than anything I had ever known. I screamed as the blackness surrounded me, but no sound issued from my throat.

I was dying. Alone. In the dark I had feared all my life. I knew it but I was too weak to care. Surely there would be light in heaven, I thought, and prayed to die quickly, that I might find my way out of the darkness and into the light.

And then I felt it. A drop of liquid fire on my tongue. It burned through me, followed by another drop, and then another, until the drops became a river.

I opened my eyes, and knew that I would never see the world the same way again. That I would never be the same again . . . .

Alexander leaned back in his chair, pleased with what he had written, thinking that, like Alesandro, he would never be the same again.