anonymous
©DTEzine 2006
An Ending
He felt it then, a flood of remembrance. How could he have forgotten this? The
answer was, of course, the legion of mortal years that had washed away the
little knowledge he had retained from the Rebirth. But with one kiss, as if it
were a twisted fairy-tale, everything he had lost was found. He stared at her
with new eyes; the fierce features matching all the memories he replayed in his
mind. She was as beautiful as ever, identical as she had been that First Time,
as surely she would be a millennia yet. The passion of their unions before
overwhelmed him even as the tragedy of their fate reasserted itself. How long
did they have this time? How long before death delivered his bitter embrace,
before he was ripped from this life to another in ignorance, leaving her to
pursue him across time and space?
She saw the recognition in his eyes and the relief swept over her. He was her
again, hers to hold, hers to need and hers to love. But her hunger was strong
and the danger stronger. How could she condemn him to an early grave? Was the
euphoria she could bring worth the suffering of his death? What right had she to
alter his destiny and refuse the life he should have led? And most of all, what
right did she, an immortal Garou, have to fall in love with a man?
A Middle
It had been harder this time. She blamed this new-fangled world of distrust and
pollution. Even she had been driven to these lonely districts, set aside for
what dwindling wildlife remained. Men were close to her but they had not
discovered this small den as she hunted and howled far away. How could any human
commune with his soul in this dimension of death, let alone realise his past?
Mankind was far behind her now, truly lost to her ways. Perhaps, even with this
new poisoning of the mind, she could still reach him. But how? He would not
respond to her as he had before. No-one believed in her kind anymore, especially
not the children. There were not even called children now. Those in their
wandering years, whom she had always known as children or yearlings, were now
referred to as adults, now seen as ready for the world. If she was to find him
again, she would have to assume a mortal form for the first time in over two
hundred years. She yawned, revealing her brutal fangs, and arched in to a human
shape. Focusing her strength and size into such a small body hurt, but the worst
pain was they way her wings were condensing themselves into the shoulders of
this weak creature. They barely fitted into these narrow bones and she would
have to be careful when she flexed or bent over. Her muscles withered and her
senses dimmed as she dragged herself into a human appearance.
When it was done, she ran her fingers over her body, testing her reflexes and
becoming used to her form, before tossing her mane – no, hair now – over her
slender shoulders. She tried to lope over to the nearby pool but stumbled
quickly. She pulled herself upright, cursing loudly. She had forgotten how to
walk on these spindly legs! She peered in to the pool and checked for flaws. It
was hard to become human now and she always had something to give her true
nature away to sharp eyes. Not that it mattered too much as people wouldn’t
recognise her even if she turned in front of them, but she did not want to
unsettle their sub-consciousness too much. That was her real danger now, the
pricking animal instinct that drove them to fear her without knowing why. She
looked human enough at perhaps twenty-one, with slightly pale skin (normal for
these indoor people), long auburn hair, sharp black nails (she would have to
claim she painted them), and an attractive figure to aid her (as she had no
money or records). The only two things that revealed her wolf side were the
tinted blue eyes with a ring of flame and the curved fangs. She could never
change her eyes, they were the windows to her soul, and the fangs were her
unavoidable flaw. She may not feed openly anymore but she would always be a
huntress and the teeth and claws were adequate proof of that.
A sudden noise made her start. She raised her head slowly to see a human male
approaching her. He was Caucasian, mid twenties, 6’2, with a muscular build,
strong genes, a good provider, regular heart beat, well-nourished, able to
sustain her for maybe three or four weeks…without realising, she had sized him
up as an opponent, then a mate and finally a meal. She was famished but feeding
off this stranger would not help her adjust to being human. She could smell the
fear receding and was surprised at his desire to help. She swallowed, trying to
recall the language and smiled at him. As she did so, she was hit by the stench
of his lust and could not resist peeling back her lips slightly. He looked
nervous suddenly and had to clear his throat before speaking.
“I heard someone cry out…were you hurt?” She considered the question, puzzling
at it, before remembering that her clothes were shredded because of the change.
No wonder his lust was so strong. She gave off an unmistakable scent of a wolf
ready for mating that any animal, no matter how evolved, could recognise. She
thought over what she was going to say, making sure that it would make sense.
“I was attacked by a…dog. I could do with a cup of coffee– if that’s all right.”
she replied in her best human voice. The knowledge of human tongues had come
back to her quickly, as had the knowledge of what to say. She couldn’t quite
recall what a cup of coffee was, but she recalled it being bearable and a good
invitation for something or other. The man seemed to like the idea anyway, so
she followed him to his caravan.
As always, she did not ask his name nor give hers. She soon remembered what a
cup of coffee was an invitation to, and bestowed her favours with pleasure.
Afterwards while he slept, she quietly took the money he had offered her and
left the dingy caravan. She had looked into his dreams and determined what
acceptable garments were in this part of the world. She gathered her power, and
using her slender and impractical human hands, fashioned clothing for herself.
She was shocked at how drained it left her, and how flashy it was. To work the
simplest of tricks required a large amount of unnecessary mage-light. She would
have to use her power sparingly if she was not to scare the unwary mortals
nearby. She had chosen what was ‘fashionable’ in the man’s mind, a word she was
unused to, but at least the clothes were relatively cool in the summer heat. The
clothes were made of a synthetic material, cotton or something similar; a pale
pink T-shirt with a cartoon cat printed on it and light blue trousers. The shoes
were strange, being ridiculously high for walking and far too delicate for
running, but upon putting them on she found they were comfortable and sturdy.
She checked her reflection in the pool and stepped out into the world.
She followed the trails in the stars at night and learnt of the world by day.
Since she was last human, in the early eighteenth century, the world had shifted
a lot. She was used to change, indeed welcomed it, but this place of technology
frightened her a little. The people had not only deserted her and the old ways,
but were largely godless. Christianity had lost its grip and nothing had sprung
up to replace it. As she travelled, she sensed he was near and began to make
ready for the meeting. She would have to choose a name for herself of course as
humans could not pronounce her true name, but the names she had assumed before
were obsolete. Nobody used names such as Rashka or Kirania anymore, and though
she always chose names that were slightly unusual, a name that nobody knew was
too noticeable. She had learnt that in using a very common name, people needed
clarification to distinguish her and in using a rare name, people always spotted
that it was not on file. But what name? It had to have an appropriate meaning,
such as demon or warrior. Or, in this soft world, a name that described her in
more vague terms. She scanned her memory, all the assimilated knowledge of the
world’s texts and finally found it: Sinead. An Irish name meaning someone
special or unique, it was unusual but not unknown. And what was she, but unique?
So Sinead skulked in the shadows, lurking and watching, only emerging to
discover a little more of humanity’s present fall from grace. She followed her
instincts, scanning for his distinctive scent in the crush of humankind about
her. Her senses were dim but were still better than any natural creatures,
allowing to scan for him over an entire region. The only problem she had was
identifying him. She could locate his presence easily enough and tracked him to
a city in Britain, but once there could not distinguish him without returning to
her natural form. She would know him if she saw him, but there were so many here
and she had to feed. As much as she hated to admit it, she loved to hunt men,
tracking them in human form and seducing them before morphing into beast-like
shape and pouncing before their shock turned to terror. She always checked of
course, making sure the victim did not have a family or some higher purpose in
his life, but there were still many pathetic men for her to stalk.
Sinead was the best of her kind and so found him quickly. Even before she found
him and her subsequent devotion to retaining him, she had been a lone hunter,
unusual among her fellows for her distrust of the pack. That was put down to her
uniqueness– she was the strongest, fastest and most gifted of their species for
over two millennia, and so hated by the leaders of the pack – but in reality she
had seen the demise of her kind and had not wished to share it. They would not
heed her warnings and so did not see the danger in revealing themselves to men
of great fear and aggression, leaving them open to the attack when it came. She
alone had escaped from her bloodline. A few others had survived – the werewolves
and vampires she met were proof of that – but they had created another secret
society for themselves which she wished no part of. She had left them to their
games of power and desired only him. That was why she was here, tracking him yet
again.
He had a new appearance which was to be expected, but his eyes were the same,
as was his beauty. He always had possessed a grace and light that marked him out
and this form was no exception. He walked the crowded streets boldly, alone in
the multitude, separate and different. He did not see Sinead as she concealed
herself in the darkness of an alley, only glancing towards her once as she
whispered his soul-name: Akela meaning Lone Wolf. This was his original name,
the name to which he would always respond. Sinead retreated into the gloomy
crack between buildings and considered her plans.
The most certain way she employed to help him to remember her was for him to
kiss her of his own free will. ‘Free will’ was wonderfully ambiguous and allowed
Sinead a certain of amount of seducing without force. So, how was she to seduce
him? First, she had to choose a mortal to become. This was standard procedure:
create a false persona, an old friend with a shared past that never happened.
She would give everyone involved memories of her character, allowing her to
‘seduce him without force’. This was easy enough, it just required a little
thought. Secondly, she needed to create an opportunity for him to kiss her – a
ball, a dance, a party, whatever was appropriate for the time – and thirdly she
had to make sure they were alone. She smiled wolfishly and called her power.
Michael was utterly miserable. He might be an adult in the eyes of the world,
but he felt like any lovesick teenage. He had known Sinead since they were tiny
and had asked her out many times, but this time he was truly in love. He had
just seen her one morning and had fallen madly in love with her all over again.
But she had refused him so many times – why would this time be any different?
That was why he was not asking her for any deeper relationship. He was going to
declare his love, asking only for a kiss, nothing more, and see what her
reaction would be. There was a party soon, a perfect opportunity for him it
seemed and he looked forward to it with some trepidation.
The door banged shut and Michael looked up to see Sinead smiling at him. His
heart contracted as she tossed her long hair, launching into a conversation
about what she was going to wear to the party. He personally thought she would
look stunning in a bin liner but kept the sentiment to himself. He nodded every
now and again while he revised exactly what he was going to say.
Sinead smiled secretly as she picked up his pleasure at seeing her. Setting her
human mind on autopilot (as so many blondes did), she probed his mind, testing
for his plans. He was suspicious of the coincidental party and sudden
reappearance of his feelings without being aware of it, a hallmark of her
influence. The party was engineered perfectly, being located by on a cliff
clubhouse where they could sneak off and discover themselves without
interference. She had emerged for him in the presence of others before and it
was not usually successful, as she rose from human from in a blaze of glory,
wings outstretched and power surging. She never revealed herself in wolf form as
it was unfair to pretend that she was something as tainted as a werewolf or
vampire, and because humans had a worrying tendency to collapse when they were
shocked, which was very discouraging.
Sinead had made the appearance of mortal flustering over her outfit, knowing
that it was trifling and beneath her to panic. This part annoyed her the most,
the pretence of finding excitement and pleasure in such an arduous task. How
could she find joy in performing an action that should take seconds in hours?
She had chosen her outfit from an image she had seen in his mind, a stereotype
for something he found attractive. It was a costume ball, no longer termed that,
but still an event that required a little more imagination than usual. She had
chosen a provocative costume: a ‘rock chick’ which consisted of all black and
dramatic styles. She was still uncertain of why this outfit should be called a
stone bird, but it seemed to attract notice and would serve her well.
The music blared from the walls; a savage drum beat drowning out the melody and
lyrics. It resembled the ritual music Sinead had heard so many times in Africa,
but here it was merely used to excite people for no given reason. She spotted
him quickly as her eyes functioned better in the dim light than a humans and
with a little persuasion, moved her small pack – or whatever they called these
females she was with – towards his. His eyes widened as he saw her, his pupils
expanding to make the most of the available light. It was an obvious indication
of interest and one she was quick to follow up on. She would have to be subtle
with so many here and bide her time until she could safely slip away with him.
Michael had been unable to breathe when he first saw her; she looked so wild,
so savage and so attractive it was all he could do not to pass out. He had
thanked whatever gods were listening for bringing her to him, a prayer he was to
repeat throughout the night. The party stretched on and they danced to the
thudding beat, silently flirting and silently fighting with whoever came close.
Their two circles of friends stayed close and he was with her for most of the
time, watching each other dance, watching each other watch. She danced as he had
never seen before, sensual and evocative. All eyes were on her, male and female,
admiring and jealous. The most obvious of these eyes belonged to him but of the
girls, jealousy was rife in one particular individual. Sinead had never made
many enemies, but it was well known that Katy hated Charlotte with a passion,
and that Sinead was a close friend to Charlotte. These ‘school-yard politics’ as
they were known, determined that as Katy was spoiling for Charlotte, Sinead
could be caught in the crossfire or used as a prompt for an attack. The most
vicious of fights were always caused by a slight to the antagonist’s friends and
never themselves. There was aggression in the air but it took a small boy to
ignite it.
The party’s host had been forced to bring his five-year-old brother to the
party. The boy was supposedly to remain in the kitchen, but a group of broody
girls had brought him out until they tired of him. Naturally the boy objected to
being removed and complained with such vigour he was allowed to remain. He took
to tormenting Charlotte by stealing parts of her costume until in exasperation,
she told him to go and annoy Katy. Needless to say, this did not go down well
and Katy came storming across the dance floor and launched herself in to a
prepared speech on Charlotte’s flaws. Charlotte (being a sensitive soul and a
drama queen) promptly burst into tears.
Sinead watched this, amused at the pettiness of it all, and an idea sneaked in
to her mind. Why not have a little fun? She was, after all, Charlotte’s loyal
friend and Katy had hurt Charlotte, so why should she not hurt Katy?
Michael watched silently as the girls comforted the sobbing Charlotte. He was
under no illusions; it was all staged as a not-so-subtle ploy for Charlotte to
become the victim. As he could see this, he knew Sinead would, after all she saw
through these mock fights more clearly then anyone. With this in mind, he was
surprised when he heard her call Katy out.
“Katy! Is your quarrel with her or the boy? If you want a fight, I will happy to
oblige.” She had a powerful voice and it carried far enough for the music to be
silenced in minutes. The entire crowd of people gathered in a circle,
anticipating another fight. Katy spun on her heels and stalked back towards
their group.
“Sinead? You dare to question me? You have never had a spine before – but then
tonight you haven’t had a shred of decency so why not pick a fight…” Sinead
grinned viciously as Katy continued her tirade. “…and another thing, you think
you’re so great…” Katy was abruptly stopped as Sinead brought her arm back and
struck Katy across the face. Katy clutched her face and stared mutely as Sinead
kicked her squarely in the chest, sending her spiralling to the floor. Katy
began to whimper and crawl away but Sinead reached down and grabbed her collar.
She hoisted Katy up with surprising ease until her feet no longer touched the
floor. She smiled sweetly at Katy’s terrified face.
“What were you saying? I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch it all. Would you care to
repeat that last part?” Katy’s mouth moved but no sound came out. Sinead arched
one eyebrow in disgust and dropped Katy in a blubbering heap. She looked about
her, at the stunned expressions and shocked faces and laughed freely. She turned
and stared directly at Michael, mouthing ‘follow’ and slowly walked through the
crowd to the door, people parting before her. Michael followed her slowly as not
to attract attention.
Sinead could have screamed with delight. The pathetic mortal had crumpled in
seconds and she had made a perfect excuse to leave. Now all she had to do was
give Michael some time, and he would surely find an opportunity.
Michael stood behind the clubhouse, using the light from the windows to find her
silhouette. She was standing high up on the cliff, staring out over the
landscape. She did not stir as he climbed up to her, the only movement being her
hair lifted by the sea breeze. She sighed before speaking, keeping her gaze
firmly away from his.
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
“You’re kidding me. You were fantastic! I knew you were strong, but I never
guessed you could do that. No wonder you never fought with anyone in school.”
Sinead smiled softly at that. She turned to look at him and her expression
turned to regret as she saw the fear in his eyes.
“You’re afraid of me, aren’t you? Surely you know I would never touch you.”
“That’s why I’m afraid.” Sinead’s forehead creased into a frown and then cleared
as she realised what he meant. She began to speak but Michael continued his
speech, cutting her off. “I know you don’t feel the way I feel, and I understand
that you only want friendship from me. I’m happy with that and I’m not going to
ask for anything more. I love you, and just being your friend is enough for me.
But, if I never asked I would regret it for the rest of my life. I will
understand if you refuse but I want to ask you anyway…” Michael clamped his
mouth shut, breathing deeply before continuing.
“Could I kiss you?” He had
shifted his gaze to the floor, but now raised his head to see her reaction. She
was smiling at him and gently nodded. She leant towards him and he towards her.
His heart was racing, he couldn’t believe she had agreed…
…It was so close, so close, this was free will and there was no way he could not
remember…
The instant their lips touched, he felt the surge of power within her. He could
feel the warmth flowing from her into him but he didn’t care. Once they pulled
away, he felt the strength rushing through him and he felt a burning sensation
in his mind. Even as he felt something change in him, he could see her features
shifting. A white light engulfed her, whipping her hair around her. Silver bolts
of lightning and flame shot through her form and she fell to her hands and
knees. Suddenly, a pair of huge golden wings erupted from her back and her whole
form seemed to shift. The light condensed itself, becoming brighter and brighter
before it was nothing but a spark in her eyes. He stared at her and the pain in
his head increased. He knew her better than before yet she was different…surely
he had not seen this creature before but she was so familiar…
A Beginning
She had explained to him before what she was and why she could not bring him
into her shadowy world. He had accepted it and knew that they had a limited time
together. But what is time when you are in love? His mortal life seemed so far
behind him now, the memories of all the lives he had shared with her taking
precedence in his mind. They took up exactly where they had left off, visiting
all the ancient places after dark, travelling the world, just ambling along and
sharing their thoughts…they travelled for years, heedless of mankind. This was
always the way, Sinead showing him the other side of the world, a pair of
hunters dancing through time. But, as ever, fate caught up with them all too
quickly.
They were in Ireland, visiting the Celtic monuments when it happened. Sinead
was aware of the fighting in the country but as they were ‘tourists’ assumed
they would be safe. The attack came when they walking down the main street. One
minute everything was fine, the next two rival groups had opened fire and they
were directly in the centre. Sinead snatched Michael into an alley but a stray
bullet had already pierced his lung. She did not try to heal him as she knew it
would be futile, and so merely held him. They had nothing to say, it was all
said before, but Sinead repeated the pledge she had made the first time, the
sacred oath that drove her to him time after time:
‘I swear to thee, O Akela my mate, that I will find you. No matter where nor
when, I will search thee out. But you shall not know me and I will awaken your
memories with a kiss of your free will. I swear on my soul I will never abandon
you.’ She kissed him one last time and he gently touched her face. His smile of
forgiveness was all she needed to carry her through the years until she found
him again. He died quietly, the suffering in his face belied by the peace in his
eyes. Sinead bent her head as she felt his spirit leave, the agony of grief
overwhelming her. Normally she was incapable of tears, but this mortal’s love
and death released the tears she had locked inside. She threw her head back and
howled, a cry of pain and suffering that drew the survivors from the streets.
All they found was a body and a single word written in blood:
‘remembrance’
