The tenth swing concluded and Bethany spoke, “sleep vampeal.” Kyli lay limp. Her body supported only by the chair. He flinched towards her as he instinctively sought to protect her from some unknown harm. Marin held him back and grasped his arm. The grip was iron as it always was.
“Tell me the land from which you birth, the river from which you derive your half vampire blood. Open your dream to me,” Bethany walked closer to her.
There was silence. Bethany placed her hand on Kyli’s shoulder.
She spoke softly and without provocation under her breath. Her words were a shadow of their normal volume, “I will.”
A sudden flash of images dashed through his mind. The flowing river within the dark bloody forest. The dim creatures on the ground. Everything came back to him in a flash of light and darkness.
With a sudden energy Bethany stood up straight, “come with me, and wake her up. She’ll want to see this.”
He looked at Marin for an answer, “what was that? Wasn’t she supposed to hold her hand or channel her thoughts somehow?”
Marin followed Bethany into the back room.
He turned to Kyli. She was still asleep.
“Now wake her up,” Bethany instructed from the far room on the other side of the couch.
He roused her with a light shake and helped her up and to the far room. The room was full of painting supplies. Brushes, canvases, oil paints in small tubes, everything was in disarray. By the time they walked in, Bethany had already started. Her painting was surreal. It reminded him of a Van Gogh with its vibrant use of colors and blends.
“Watch carefully,” Marin whispered to him.
Eight minutes passed as the painting came to its completion. There was the lush forest he had traveled to. The ample scenery he remembered was all there. Every element was represented. Including the flowing river of blood and the tiny creatures crawling in the leaves that slowly ate the forest itself.
“This is the sign of a true vampeal. One that has not yet lost themselves in the biologic craving attributed to us all. Yet they are still consumed by it in their dreams,” Marin pointed to the painted river. “This decadent forest is proof of the bountiful humanity in her soul. It will change, but it will never vanish as long as she lives,” his words were suggestive and cryptic. He stared at Zack. It was a message.
“What do you mean? You’re beginning to sound as if being a vampeal is akin to being enlightened,” his tongue was far too sharp for the company they kept.
“Or damned,” Bethany said as she put the final brush strokes on the painting.
Marin scuffed and sat down in a nearby wooden chair, “I’ll be next.” He clearly wanted to prove something to him. He wanted to show him some hidden truth, a message Yugo had failed to fully represent in their last encounter.
Bethany set a new canvas on the easel and turned to Marin, “then sleep vampire.” The motion was quicker with him. She didn’t need to even get near him like she did with Kyli.
He had a feeling he had done this before with Bethany. Marin lay with his head rolled slightly to his shoulder.
Bethany spoke, “show me the lake of your life, the blood of your tales.”
There was no flash this time. His mind was blank.
There was no answer from Marin as there was with Kyli. Bethany fell limp as she stood in place. Then she suddenly jerked upright and began to paint.
He stepped towards Marin and attempted to ascertain his condition. Her hand held tight on his arm and urged him to stay put and silent during the fragile moment. She didn’t want him to tempt fate.
“I am fine, Zack,” Marin’s head righted itself with his words. He stood and watched the painting come to life as he did with Kyli’s.
The paint was dull. The artist mostly used grays instead of the vivid palate of greens, reds, and blacks in the last painting. Another eight minutes passed and the nearly void, lifeless painting was complete. There was no forest, no river of blood. There was no color to speak of. It was muted, absent. The image was of a room with a single blank window. It was constructed of old, aged wood. The splintered floors and walls filled the edges of the canvas. Only a sturdy oak chair was in the middle of the room. Propped next to it was a small empty crystal drinking goblet, the same type used in the concert. There was no blood and no lake to mention or comment on. This didn’t seem like the mind of any vampire or vampeal.
He wondered why Marin wanted to show this to him. Possibly that unique individuals existed even among vampires? Whatever it was it was a strange way to display it. He pondered as his heart picked up pace. He knew what was to come. The succession was leading to his likeness, his painting. He was next.
Chapter Sixty Eight
The Ocean Rendered
A decade ago I read a book that irritated me. It had all the elements that I thought it would have and it was completely predictable. From that day on, I wanted to write a story with a plot line that no one would expect. I wanted to create characters that would be remembered in the minds of all those who might read of them.
The Redgold Series is the culmination of that initial irritation. Characters that own the badassedness they are rumored to have. Stories that question all of our own moral limits. These are the ideals that I have aimed for in my writing. If you enjoy vampires, true vampires that are powerful, graceful, and nearly immortal – you will love my Demon Vampire.
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