Awakening (The Immortals Saga Book 1) Read online

  Every second feels like ten, and my eyes remain tightly shut while my face contorts unwillingly from the pain.

  As each second passes, I feel as though I’m being burned alive from the inside; my veins are eroding, charring along the journey back to my heart.

  I try taking in deep breaths — the first time I can breathe without feeling a pain in my lungs. Holding the air in, I count to ten and then slowly release.

  For a brief moment, a mere flash for me, the pain subsides but quickly returns. Around me, others are fast asleep, yet here I am dying and trying to be quiet about it.

  I reach over to my bedside table and lift a glass of water off a coaster made of corkboard. The condensation around the glass makes it slippery, and I take hold of it with both hands bringing it close to my mouth.

  With my lips pursed together, I blow a warm breath over the floating pieces of ice, watching a faint cloud of steam rise from within. Then, I tilt the glass into my mouth, letting the cold water roll in and hold it there for at least thirty seconds.

  The water cools my mouth, and I try to swirl my tongue around within, savoring every moment of this brief bliss until it warms slightly and I swallow it.

  Again, I take another sip of water and let it remain in my mouth for a short time.

  This pattern of taking in breaths, holding them, and then releasing continues for an hour. Every few minutes, I take another swig of water, trying to conserve it for as long as possible. I try everything I can to just force myself to sleep. At this point, it doesn’t even feel like I have a fever anymore, but from within, I must have something.

  I take my fingers and press them against my neck to find my pulse.

  I find it.

  It isn’t good.

  My heart is beating the slowest I’ve ever felt. I’m surprised I’m even alive.

  Ba —

  Two seconds pass.

  Bum

  Ba —

  Another second…

  Bum

  The river flows faster and hotter. I can feel my blood moving through my body as though I’ll be swept away by the current. It’s strong and forceful despite a slowing heart to propel it through.

  At the back of my throat, a sensation that has been present for a while now, but I only just discovered it fully, presses into the back.

  It’s a tingling-like sensation, growing more and more noticeable by the second. The more I try to push it from my conscious thought, the more aware it becomes.

  Again, I take another sip of water.

  It doesn’t help.

  “Just relax, James,” I tell myself.

  Just relax…

  But I can’t.

  The burning sensation tearing through me is too strong for me to just relax, but I have no other option.

  I close my eyes and breathe.

  As death comes nearer, I find myself clinging to the basic instincts that keep me human.

  Raising my fingers to my neck, I find my pulse to be even slower. The torrent of fire, however, only increases.

  Among friends back in Britain, I always heard that before you die, your life replays itself in your head. The more I think of this, the more I begin seeing passing visions of my twenty years.

  The death of my sister, Margaret…

  Three years later, the death of my father; then my mother.

  I find comfort that I will soon be joining them. I only wish I had not come this far. I wish I’d died with the fifteen-hundred others in the sea.

  Why did I deserve to make it to America?

  Even if I didn’t get to live here long, I still made it when so many others never even saw the shore.

  It isn’t fair.

  Forget about me. This is about them.

  I pray that this will be over soon.

  I pray I’ll join my fellow passengers in death, Margaret and my parents.

  The pain suddenly begins to subside.

  The final moments.

  My vision begins to blur, and time starts standing still.

  Breaths come slower and further between, and as my eyes open and close slowly, a faint mist appears around me, enveloping me like a blanket.

  I can hear my heart beat in my head and it beats slowly, and distantly — like a fading instrument long after the final bow.

  Take me. Take my pain. Take my agony.

  And in this moment, I take a deep breath as my heart beats for its last time. My eyes shut as I expel the last breath, and then I fade.

  But in this moment, a sudden surge rises from within. I take in a breath, filling my lungs with new air.

  I now smell the staleness of it, a faint trail of body odor lingers about, and my eyes shoot open.

  My vision sharpens, and I can make out the pictures in the wall that were previously masked in darkness and shadow.

  The sounds of my fellow patients sleeping are amplified, and the pain is no more. The tingling in the back of my throat remains, but I forget it quickly as there are greater things to be amazed at.

  I’m alive.

  But was I even dead?

  Perhaps for a moment?

  But then, it returns — my heartbeat.

  Strong and powerful; maybe better than ever before.

  I hear a clicking on the floors from the hallway outside the patient room and suddenly, illuminated from the sliver of moonlight outside, a dark figure stands.

  I recognize him from last night.

  Magnus.

  He looks at me, leaning on the side of the doorway, arms crossed across his chest. “To be honest, I was not confident you would make it,” he says softly. “I thought you would, but there was still a bit of doubt.”

  “What happened to me?” I ask.

  “Don’t play dumb, my dear James,” Magnus says. “You know exactly what you are now. I saved your life,” he says.

  “What am I?” I demand to know.

  Magnus sighs. “You’re one of us, now. You’ve received the gift of immortal life — ”

  My eyes focus onto Magnus’. I take in each word with fearful apprehension.

  “ — as a vampire.”

  “A vampire,” I say again. “They don’t exist. You’re not real. This isn’t real. This is my illness.”

  “No, James. I assure you that I am very real and so are you, now…”

  I take a moment to let this in.

  “What’d you do to me yesterday?”

  “I turned you,” he says simply. “At first, I wasn’t going to stop, as you may remember, but something about you made me. I thought it would be a waste to not utilize you. You were destined to join our kind — not wither away and die. You do know how sick you were, yes?” he asks.

  I nod my head.

  “I gave you a second chance,” Magnus continues. “Had it not been for me, you would have died today. Well, in a way you just died minutes ago,” he smiles. “But now you’re alive again — in a new way; a newly lit flame.”

  “What did you mean when you said you didn’t think I’d make it? Did you think I’d die of my pneumonia?”

  Magnus shakes his head. “Of course not. I didn’t think — I knew. What I meant by saying this was, I didn’t think you’d survive the transformation. Some don’t; especially those already in a fragile state. See, vampire venom wreaks havoc within a body during the transformation. I wish it could be a different way, but that’s the way we were created. We change from within, second by second, until you’re no longer human,” he says.

  “What am I then?”

  “I already said,” he says stiffly, “you’re one of us. You, James, are a vampire.”

  “I can’t be…”

  “You are and in time you’ll come to accept your new gift. You’ll learn to utilize your new powers and find powers unique to you.”

  I shake my head. “This isn’t real…”

  “I assure you, James. It is. I understand your confusion. In fact, I was the same way when I was turned. I think that’s why I saved you. I could see into your mind — your soul. I could read you like a book. I know your heart’s desires, your story, your…well…everything. I see a great deal of myself in you,” he says to me. “In time, you’ll do great things, dear James. Never underestimate yourself.”

  “If you’re real,” I say, starting to believe him. “Why didn’t they see you when you turned me? No one pointed you out.”

  “As I said, we all have powers unique to us. I choose who sees me. Most humans wouldn’t know how to react. You, confused by my aura and presence, reacted well. You were near death, and perhaps in your subconscious mind, you welcomed being turned. Something within told you I would grant you a great gift, so you didn’t scream or yell…”

  “I thought you were trying to kill me,” I say. “To be honest, I welcomed it…”

  He shakes his head quickly. “The opposite. As I said, without me, you’d have been dead already. You were not going to survive. Time was not in your favor, and now, you have unlimited time. Use your gift and use it well.”

  We remain quiet for a few moments. Magnus remains standing in the doorway.

  “You can come in,” I say.

  Magnus does and takes a seat at the foot of my bed. His eyes remain transfixed on mine as he waits for me to continue talking.

  I take another breath before continuing. “I didn’t want this,” I say.

  Magnus smiles to me; his white teeth reflect the moonlight. “Please, everyone wants this, James,” he says. “Don’t even pretend otherwise. Ever since the beginning of time, humans have sought ways to lengthen their lives — perhaps indefinitely. This, my friend, is the only way. You’ve joined the club. Be grateful and noble.”

  “When can I leave, then?” I ask. “I suppose I don’t need to be here anymore.”

  “A
nytime,” says Magnus. “It’ll take some time getting used to your new life, but that’s on you. It’s your journey to experience.”

  We remain silent in the quiet hospital room.

  “So,” I say finally. “What do I do now?”

  Magnus smiles to me and places a pallid hand on my blanket-covered kneecap, tapping it slightly with the heel of his hand. “What do you do now?” he repeats back to me with a curious smile. “Like anyone else, dear James — survive.”

  I look to him.

  He smiles back to me, revealing his sharp teeth once again. “It’s funny, James. Even in death, some things never change.”

  4

  i’M HOVERING ABOVE a man.

  Beneath me, he sleeps peaceful. His face, well-lined, is relaxed with closed eyes.

  Gravity seems to have no effect on me.

  I must be dreaming.

  The burning at the back of my throat is great. I feel as though my body’s instincts are overriding my own will-power. My head throbs and my joints ache as I watch his chest rise and fall in slow movements.

  Beneath me, he stirs. His nose scrunches before relaxing, but he does not wake. I hear nothing but the sounds of his beating heart — strong and powerful for a man of his age.

  My vision sharpens, gazing over his every line and pore, and even beneath his skin, I swear I can see his blood moving fluidly through his veins.

  Burning hotter, my throat trembles at this sight, and suddenly I descend upon him, biting my teeth into his neck.

  He gasps for air, struggling beneath me; trying to grasp at my back, but with my arms, I am able to hold him down with no trouble.

  His blood is sweet, and I savor it. For a moment, the burning in the back of my mouth remains, but quickly it is washed away by the flow of incoming blood.

  The man continues to gasp for air until I lean my head back, letting drips of his blood fall from my mouth to his neck. His eyes are widened, looking into mine.

  A reflection of illuminated, crimson eyes reflect off of his pupils, and I smile, barring my teeth and again, I sink them into his soft skin.

  Beneath me, his skin has now become translucent-like, and again, the rhythmic pulse of blood through his veins becomes echoes in the darkness of our hospital room.

  The sound of rushing blood fills my ears, and as I keep drinking what remains, I continue to hear nothing but him, my own personal symphony, playing the overture to the birth of my new life.

  James is gone. What I’ve become — the monster — has risen.

  I’m a hunter…

  A predator…

  Craving more, I suck harder until the rhythm of flowing blood weakens, and his eyes roll back. Then, the echoing roar of his blood goes silent, and I pull back, standing upon my feet once more.

  The music goes quiet.

  I hear nothing now.

  Stepping back, the burning at the back of my throat is now gone. My animalistic cravings have been satisfied, and for now, I can rest.

  For now…

  The window behind me, filtering in a bright April morning, illuminates the hospital room with sunlight.

  Reflecting off the white walls, the light blinds me and my eyes remain partially closed as I become used to the morning light.

  I didn’t sleep last night. I merely drifted in and out of consciousness though awake. It’s like I turned on and off my senses — a mere rest period. Despite not sleeping, everything about me feels better.

  I no longer have the burning at the back of my throat. My legs feel stronger, and for the first time, I feel warm within. Thoughts are no longer scattered and muddled.

  They are clear and crisp.

  I tilt my head to the side to see my fellow patients awake and talking amongst themselves quietly. A look of dread runs the length of their faces.

  My dream from last night replays in my mind. Usually, upon the first minutes of wakening, I don’t recall my dreams, but this one is as vivid as I remember it, and in fact, it becomes sharper and clearer as I recall it.

  The taste of blood, sweet and with a tinge a faint metallic element, lingers on my tongue. I run my tongue over my teeth, and it’s there.

  I can taste it.

  I open my eyes and see a doctor and nurse looking over the patient across from me.

  A white cloth is draped over his bed.

  As I pull myself into the present, I hear their voices speaking quietly to each other.

  “…another animal attack. I — I haven’t an idea of what it could be though.”

  “How long had it been?”

  “He was cold when they found him.”

  “And the other young man?” the doctor asks. “What about him?”

  “Same marks on his neck, but he lived.”

  They motion to me, not realizing I’m watching them. Their eyes narrow slightly, but I can’t tell if it’s suspicion or mere puzzlement. Neither says a word to me, but they then turn back to each other.

  “What do I say?” the nurse asks.

  “You say nothing,” he says firmly. “Nothing,” he says again. “We don’t want to start a panic.”

  “If it’s one of them — ”

  “Nothing,” he hisses.

  He takes her by the arm, but quickly drops it. “Sorry…” he says. “As far as we’re concerned, he died of a heart attack.”

  “But clearly that’s not what happened,” she says.

  “Of course, but the papers don’t need to know that. I will not let this tarnish our image. Thank God the other boy lived.”

  The nurse nods, breathing deeply. “Yes,” she says, “I suppose you’re right. But, what do I do now, Doctor?”

  He turns to me, his eyes run the length of my body before turning his gaze back to hers. “Your job,” he says stiffly. “Take care of this.”

  Then, with a swift motion, he moves past her and back into the hallway corridor where he vanishes from view. A brief glimpse of his white overcoat is the last I see of him.

  She turns back to the man I murdered last night — I know this now. It was not a dream — and with a solemn sigh, walks out into the corridor as well, probably to retrieve a few other nurses to move the body.

  I remain frozen though I know now I need to get out. If I lose control again; if I’m truly the monster I think I’ve become — the monster Magnus has turned me into — it’s only a matter of time before I give into my new instincts again.

  I have to get out.

  I can’t stay here anymore.

  But where do I go?

  Surely, I’ll feed again — and again — and again.

  They’ll catch on that this isn’t some sort of animal you can hunt.

  I’m the animal.

  I’m a predator and humans are now my prey.

  Where can you run to when you can’t even run from yourself and what you’ve become? I don’t have the answer to that, but I know for certain it isn’t here; perhaps not anywhere.

  Regardless, I have to run.

  I have no choice.

  5

  The 21st Century

  OVER A CENTURY has passed since I fled the hospital that April morning.

  If you’re wondering why I skipped over the last one-hundred and something years, the answer is because that is of little interest. Perhaps, with time, I’ll revisit that portion of my life, but not now. It isn’t pertinent to this story. However, I will fill you in on what you’ve missed.

  While, you may think a century is a long time, it feels as though it went by like a flash of lightning. For that single moment of bright illumination, the world stands still, but in reality, it’s merely what it is — a flash.

  Time for an immortal is that same concept. It stands still, statuesque in form. But looking back, years are merely falling grains of sand in an hour-glass that will never empty.

  In the time that has passed, everyone I ever knew in my human life has been dead for decades. Many other things have changed since I took my last human breath.

  I’ve lived through at least twenty United States Presidents, but don’t ask me which ones.

  I lost track after Nixon.

  I never voted for any of them either since, according to my obituary, I died April 20, 1912.

  We both know they didn’t want to report the truth of my escape; the same way they didn’t want reports of animal attacks leaking to the newspapers.

  Now, in the present, it would be much harder to mask such events. In a world where everyone has telephones in their pockets — sorry, cell phones — nothing escapes the Information Age without being leaked