I was surprised to find I had actually drifted off to sleep, having spent the first thirty minutes within the coffin never quite adjusting to the suffocating sensation brought on by my exaggerated fear of confined spaces. Once I realized pounding on the lid and demanding my release was futile, I lay awake for another hour contemplating the battle and all that Elizabeth had revealed.
When Nostradamus pried open my coffin lid the following evening, I squinted as the sunset’s vibrant rose, blue, and purplish hues quickly surrendered to a dark, opaque, and suffocating horizon. I fought a wave of depression. I missed the sun, the calls to morning carried on the fluttering wings of colorful songbirds amid the sounds of zooming automobiles and chugging morning buses shuttling passengers mindful of time constraints. I missed the way a morning breeze greeted the trees, whose leaves responded with a demure wave, smaller branches bowing as if acknowledging a higher power, while honeybees furiously flitted bloom-to-bloom, alert to a rigid schedule not so unlike the people bound for work.
Elizabeth waited nearby and observed me, a worried expression creasing her forehead. “I trust you slept well, Celestine. Regretfully, we found it necessary to secure your coffer. Please understand that this is only a temporary measure.”
Who could blame them? One minute I felt calm and self-assured, the next deranged and homicidal. Besides, I’d taken advantage of the time to myself, weighing the justification for taking a life, the conviction Elizabeth expressed prior to our retreat from the Battle of Alexandria. The lives she’d saved. The lives she’d felt worth forfeiting. Those deserving life and those deserving death. Unlike what I’d witnessed in Egypt, in my line of work the distinction between the criminals and those upon whom they preyed couldn’t be clearer. The Elders presented an unimaginable opportunity, one that would allow the defenseless unparalleled protection from those mortals committed to heinous acts. But was I ready to commit?
“Come. Join us.” She rocketed across the frozen tundra, just as quickly returning with a chalice, ruby-colored droplets spilling over. Pressing it my way, she said, “Take a seat at the table. As I am not accustomed to the ghastly assignments of servitude, you shall, from this point forward, handle your own affairs in this regard.”
Socrates puffed his cheeks. “Need I remind you she has yet to make her decision, Elizabeth? Therefore, she may well consider your instruction moot.”
Elizabeth stayed quiet but glowered. “Few develop an appetite for traditional food,” she said to me. “Socrates has always been the exception, in this and many matters I simply haven’t the desire to discuss.”
Leonardo glanced in my direction and, unassisted, my glass slid toward me and thumped my knuckles. “Drink.”
I raised the chalice, and the distinct smell of fresh blood bathed my nostrils. My eyes penetrated the metal exterior, revealing the rich red syrupy liquid within. Salivating, I parted my lips to accommodate eager incisors and gulped the entire contents. When I set the glass down, I discovered them leering, nostrils winged, dark eyes fixed and easily communicating their disgust. Defiantly, I swiped a hand across my mouth, then gripped the table edge when the teeth-chattering tremors began, a powerful surge awakening every cartilage, every muscle, and every bone. My hair follicles tingled, and I resisted the urge to rip the skin from my scalp. Leonardo grinned, his expression suddenly stoic when his eyes met Socrates. They all seemed so far away, and I strained to make sense of their garbled conversation.
Elizabeth suddenly zipped alongside, startling me. Her face seemed magnified, her nose inches from mine. “Have you made up your mind?”
I shook my head, which only exacerbated the dizziness. “I need more time.”
“Look there,” she said, gesturing beyond me before taking to the air and standing alongside a murky mirage.
I twisted around and saw Nick stooping alongside a coffin, fingers entwined around the corpse’s long blond hair, his forehead pressed against the cool surface. Tears ran down his cheeks and created a puddle while his body shuddered amid violent inhalations. It was bad enough the Elders pilfered my every thought, but to pervert those thoughts, to graft such grievous suggestions of what might be was nothing short of monstrous. And I hated them for it.
I faced her, aware that protruding canine teeth engulfed my lower lip. Was she actually smirking at me? I lunged for her with plans to rip off that smirk and every inch of her caulk-like makeup. Flying through the air, I smacked into an invisible shield. She laughed outright, collected my dislodged teeth from the floor, opened my hand and slapped them against my palm.
“The Code prevented the Realm from saving your parents. Surely, you’ve considered that,” she said without missing a beat. “Have you also considered that Nicholas lost his parents that day, as well? Would you have him lose his sister, too, particularly when it is within your power to prevent it? Bianca’s inability to grant your parents the gift of immortality haunts her to this very day. Of that, you can be sure. Imagine if the decision had been solely hers, Celestine. Your parents would be here, beside you, today.”
Suddenly, Nick’s apparition vanished, the only sound my rapid heartbeat, my hair fluttering behind me the lone sensation. An orb of light beckoned in the distance, the sound of an explosion sending shockwaves beyond dimensions. Elizabeth had once again taken me inside the Circle, the vampires’ innocuous term for time travel. The year: 1997. Bodies lay scattered within the courthouse, the Harvesters’ preternatural screeches filling the air as they scavenged the demolished building searching for victims. Exsanguinating those they found, grotesque fangs punctured throbbing veins, my biological parents among the attacked. Bianca, Razvan, and the Realms’ warriors appeared soon after, shapeshifting into various creatures: glistening gargoyles, three-headed dragons, salivating chimeras, and the most frightening, a Manananggal—a vampire-like creature capable of severing its upper torso, sprouting prodigious wings, and presenting a face more human than monstrous. Overpowering the Harvesters, the Realm flung them one by one through the vast opening created by the explosion, where they writhed, their bodies instantly igniting beneath the scorching sun. The Realm then turned its attention to those with gaping wounds inflicted by the Harvesters.
“Stop it!” I cried. “I remember the rest.” The Realm pitched the bodies of my biological parents to the ground below, atop what little remained of the Harvesters—odiferous mounds of smoldering ash.
“Am I to assume that at some point Bianca chose to reveal this event?”
“Yes,” I said, staring daggers. “And once was enough.”
“I am aware, Celestine, you consider what you have become an abhorrence, that you are thankful your parents never found themselves in the same predicament. I can tell you—with near certainty—that they wish we had granted them such a glorious opportunity. I venture your father—Russ, if memory serves—would have given anything in exchange for the exceptional powers we are offering. He would have understood that such extraordinary abilities could only enhance his success as a law enforcement officer and his contributions to public safety. Had the Realm arrived only moments before, your parents would not have suffered an attack by the Harvesters.”
I started to interject but discovered Elizabeth must have cast some kind of spell because I couldn’t move my lips or tongue.
Socrates materialized beside us. “Enough of this coddling. What say you, young woman?”
Elizabeth laid a luminous hand on my shoulder and searched my eyes. “I sense the pull between good and evil is intensifying, Celestine. You must make your decision as we are only allotted so much time.”
Bianca had always been very evasive, either dismissing my questions regarding the rogue vampires she called soulless demons—relegated to hunting and destroying mortals—or offering only vague explanations. Now it all made sense. The Harvesters either never received the Adaption or they didn’t receive it in time. The exception, Yesenia. Because her powers surpassed both Bianca’s and Razvan’s, I suspected one of the Elders had performed her Adaption and because Socrates opposed my transition, I felt sure he was responsible.
“Well,” Elizabeth said, tap-tap-tapping a satin slipper, “do you wish to accept our offer?”
I tamped down my expansive emotions, which ranged from fear to self-pity to unresolved anger. I had two choices—accept annihilation and God’s probable wrath or embrace the Elders’ version of immortality.
“Yes, I accept,” I said, feeling every bit a defector and finding it impossible to look her in the eye.
Elizabeth arched a brow and pursed her lips. I sensed her skepticism. She squirmed while readjusting her corset, then faced the others. “In that case, gentlemen, let us begin.” She pressed her palm to my forehead and a violent gasp escaped my lips when the pain returned.
The others leaned toward me in perfect unison and performed a simultaneous and impassioned nod, their skin shimmery and colorless, save startling bloodstained lips, their posture reminiscent of the creatures from the movie Alien. Nostradamus tugged his linen shirt—partially hidden by a leather jerkin—toward his shoulder and exposed his throat.
“Why do you suppose she hesitates?” Elizabeth whispered.
“Perhaps the dear girl requires encouragement,” Leonardo said, a sly grin testing his lips as his eyes glowed, the pupils bathed with an amber hue.
Elizabeth flicked her wrist and sneered. “The honor is yours, good sir. Godspeed.”
Waiving any semblance of fanfare, da Vinci sank dagger-like teeth into Nostradamus’s neck, infusing the air with a metallic, sweet aroma. Outside the ice palace, the gorillas thumped their massive chests, chorusing a deafening round of discordant shrill screams. Beasts of prey joined in, their maniacal vocalizations competing one with the other, resulting in a frenzied staccato symphony from hell.
My lips furled in response to razor-sharp fangs, sparkling icepicks oozing a milky, blood-tinged froth. I lunged for Nostradamus and clamped his head between my palms, as if it were a ripe melon, while I staved off an overwhelming urge to break his neck. I sank in my fangs, withdrawing a fraction when they scraped bone.
Instantly, hundreds of thousands of synapses fired off in a rippling wave, producing both brilliant color and deafening sound while revealing all the horrific occurrences humankind had withstood to include Christ’s crucifixion, the Holocaust, and 9/11. Everything Nostradamus knew, I now knew. He had not only imparted his ancient powers but also his knowledge of every cataclysmic event known to mankind. Desperate to distance myself from the horrific images, I withdrew my bloodied canine teeth instantly, ripping a wide swath of Nostradamus’s throat in the process. Bitter cold enveloped me, an arctic chill so severe it conjured memories of the Ice Age he had just revealed to me. My entire body shook and every muscle responded to newly discovered power with a grotesque and sustained twitch.
Elizabeth approached with guarded posture, inching toward me like a ballerina unsure of her mark. Sweeping my long blond hair behind my shoulders, she said to the others, “Now that we have created the beast, it falls to us to tame it. We shall familiarize her with her powers, tout de suite.”