***
Two drudging days crept by like two agonizing decades in the secluded, dimly lit Sombras pit where Amaya and Apollo slaved. Time was a luxury they did not experience while inside the inescapable walls that imprisoned them. It had taken them both an entire day to adapt to the unbearable stench of rotted flesh and feces—and even then, they had not adapted, but rather hardened to the situation.
The ground was slippery from a gelatinous mixture of innards and bodily fluids. The twins were weak from the instinctive vomiting induced by their nauseating environment. Amaya only made matters worse for Apollo with her constant crying and berating.
He tried talking to her sensibly, but she wanted nothing to do with him. Amaya was inconsolable. She even separated from him when they slept next to a cleaned area along the wall of the pit. When she would wake up and see Apollo next to her, she immediately moved and isolated herself from her Judas brother.
Toward the end of their sentencing, Amaya was relieved that they had remained alone—no Sombras had visited the feeding area. Those hideous beasts were sent to another area to feed while the twins were there.
They had swept and shoveled the body parts, and then dumped them into large baskets that a couple of the beasts would fetch. Their two days of cleaning out the pit were almost over—almost.
Apollo pushed the broom across the lumpy cave floor. He thought back to the night that Amaya took him to the cave. Little did they know that their lives would change so drastically that evening. The last real conversation he’d had with Amaya was just before she dragged him to the cave. He missed her.
He decided he was going to do everything in his power, at this moment, to get Amaya to forgive him. He needed her forgiveness. After all, he had dragged her into this mess, and she suffered because of his rebellious attitude. He needed his sister back.
“Amaya, can we talk?”
She was no longer crying, no longer fearful of the Sombra pit that she had just spent two days cleaning. She was sweeping as if it were the only thing keeping her alive. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“I’m telling you, if I knew that Max was going to put you in here with me, I wouldn’t have left. You have to believe me.” Apollo reached over and grabbed Amaya’s arm. He wanted her to stop sweeping so he could talk with her.
“Because of you, I’ve spent two days in this hell-hole,” her voice trembled. “I’m covered with blood, mucus, feces, and pieces of people. . . Because of you!” she yelled.
Apollo looked down at his jeans and t-shirt. Particles of human remains also covered his clothes. His white shirt was stained with blood from the mess of human remains and sweat from the strenuous work. His dark jeans had a trail of liquids down his thighs from swiping his hands down the front of his jeans when they got sweaty. His red hair clung flat to his head and face from his sweat. Worse yet, earlier, he’d had a human tooth stuck in the bottom of his shoe. “If I could take this back, I would.”
“Would you? Are you going to willingly give in to the turning ceremony?”
Apollo looked away when her questioning eyes searched his face. He was not sure he could surrender himself willingly to a life without a soul. He wanted more—he wanted so much more.
“That’s what I thought,” she whispered.
“Why are you okay with this? Look around, Amaya. This is not the future that we talked about. We used to daydream of super speed and strength, but there’s nothing glamorous about this. This is not what we thought we’d be doing with our lives.”
“Papa chose this for us.”
“That doesn’t make it right. That doesn’t make it acceptable. Is this what you want?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want. They are stronger and more powerful than we can imagine. If we run, they will catch us; if we hide, they will find us.”
“Look at me.” He knew she felt scared and vulnerable. He reached out to her, put his fingers under her chin, and lifted her face to look at his. He looked into her darker-than-usual blue eyes.
“Do you remember when we were kids? We must have been about eight years old and Ms. Beasley, that ol’ kook, asked us to go past the boundaries of our property to pick an herb for the soup she was making?”
Amaya nodded. Her eyes searched her brother’s deep brown eyes. His long, thin nose and shapely lips were turned down at the corners. Amaya could see the sadness in his eyes, the pain on his face. Her heart ached at seeing his usually handsome face, so troubled. “Papa had forbidden us to go there.”
“Yes, and remember we were walking toward the barbed-wire fence where we had found that hole?”
“Yeah, and the closer we got to the fence, the slower we walked. You wanted to get that herb for Ms. Beasley, and I tried to talk you out of going,” Amaya remembered.
“Yeah, but you know me. . . I don’t listen.” He slightly smiled, trying to lighten his sister’s mood.
“That’s the truest thing you’ve said in a long time,” she smirked.
“What did I do when we got up to the fence? Do you remember?”
Amaya diverted her eyes as she thought about that moment, and then suddenly looked at him when she recalled what he did. “You went off to the side mumbling something to yourself. And then you came back and said we needed to go back to the house, something was going to happen.”
“Exactly. We ran back to the house and found Ms. Beasley had burnt her hand in the fire.”
“What does this have to do with right now, Polly?”
Apollo cleared his throat. “I wasn’t mumbling to myself, Maya. I was talking to Mum.” He saw Amaya’s eyebrows come together in a deep frown.
“What?”
“I’ve talked to Mum many times.”
“What? What do you mean you’ve talked to Mum? Is this a joke? Mum is dead. I don’t find any of this funny.”
“She comes to me . . . Amaya listen to me.” He stopped her from turning her back on him. “She comes to me when I call to her. I’ve seen her several times since we were younger.”
“I think the stench has gotten to your brain. You’re crazy.” Amaya pulled away from Apollo, dropped her broom and walked to the far corner toward the doorway. She needed fresh air; she needed to get out of the dark pit. “If you are able to talk to Mum, why haven’t you told me about it?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I guess because we share everything, and I wanted something that was mine.”
“Mum is not yours. She is our mother, and you can’t keep her for yourself.” Amaya was furious. Who did Apollo think he was? She had never kept anything from him, especially something this significant.
“You’re right,” Apollo muttered, as he let out yet another discouraged sigh. He had hoped that the news of his ability to see their mum would have made Amaya happy or in better spirits. But his hope was dashed when he realized how much this had backfired. He’d just dug his own pit deeper.
Amaya rested her face in the palms of her hands. She closed her eyes, trying to remember a happier time. “Look at us, Polly. Three days ago, our lives were great and now look at us.”
Apollo went to his sister, and sat down on a bumpy extended part of the wall next to where she stood. He grabbed her hand and pulled her down to sit next to him. When she did, he put his arm around her shoulders. After a few moments of thinking, Apollo looked at his sister. He studied her face. He felt the distance that still lingered between them. “I’m just as scared as you are. Maybe even more.”
“How so?”
“You’re trying to accept this. I’m trying to fight against it. But. . .” his voice sounded quieter, “I don’t know what’s going to happen to me—happen to us.”
“Why do you think Papa had bargaining power with our lives?” Amaya asked.
“Max wants something that Papa has. Tereq referred to that two nights ago in the forest.”
“What do you think Papa has? He came here with nothing. He said he had us in his arms, and all he had on was a lab coat.”
??
?Nah, I think it has to do with Papa’s blood research. But I truly don’t know. What I do know is that Mother gave me a message about a girl leading me to the light. I think that girl is Sophie.”
“Sophie? That girl you found in the forest? Father told me about that muddy girl. Are you kidding me? Do you honestly think Mum cares about Sophie? We’ve been in this cave for two days with no sunlight, cleaning up people like us that have been torn apart, and you think Mother would foresee your future with a stranger? What about us? What about right now? Did she say anything about that?” Amaya stood and grabbed her broom.
“I’m sorry. I just think—”
“Do us all a favor, Polly, and stop thinking. If you don’t embrace this new way of life, then we will both suffer. And that’s just not fair.”
Apollo reached to grab Amaya’s arm. When she felt his touch, she flinched, turned quickly to face him and said, “I will make you pay, Apollo. As much as I love you, I will not let you and your mutinies affect my life.”
Amaya whipped around, put her back to Apollo, and continued to sweep. He was not sure what else to say to her. It was time to get his thoughts straight. He realized there was now a chasm that separated them. He needed to put together his plan of escape—his plan to save Sophie.
The loud, all-too-obvious silence that engulfed the pit was broken when Tereq opened the door. Their sentencing was over. It was time for them to prepare for their inevitable future—their turning ceremony.
-12-
The walk from the Sombras’ pit to yet another room in the vampires’ underground world was like an annoying scab that lingered for days. For Apollo, he felt as if he was in a repetitive nightmare that had him walking down the same cold, eerie corridor step after step. His feet felt weighted down. The long walk to the edge of his fate was more than his mind was ready to handle.
The silence was painful. However, the annoying reminder that this was his fate would have been worse. He was not sure which he preferred, Amaya’s tears or her cold shoulder. In the past two days, he had seen both in abundance. He concluded that they both seemed to masticate his heart to oblivion.
He wondered if she would forgive him for the years that he kept his relationship with their mum’s spirit from her. Looking back, he was not entirely sure why he kept their mother to himself. He’d shared everything with his twin. After all, she was his sister, best friend, and confidant. But three days ago, everything had changed and she had become his opposite. His concept of reality had to change with the understanding that he and Amaya wanted to go different directions.
He glanced at her side profile. She stood taller as if two days in the pit had given her a lifetime of maturity and wisdom. Apollo diverted his eyes to the ground and tried to dull the knotted nerves in his stomach.
Then Apollo watched Tereq walking rigid in front of them. Tereq’s silence was common. He was the opposite of Ori. Tereq maintained an air of arrogance that concealed centuries of guilt and anger. It showed in his eyes. In the depth of his ice-brown eyes, Apollo knew that Tereq hid a deep, dark secret.
A sudden stop jolted Apollo from his wayward thoughts. Tereq used his hand to invite the twins into a large, empty hollow. Inside, Fatima waited for them. Her red, curly hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck while ringlets draped over her shoulder. Amaya walked in, but Apollo froze. Fatima’s white silk gown resembled the one his mother wore each time he saw her. For a brief moment, Apollo, in his exhausted state, felt disoriented and confused. He thought she was his mother.
Tereq pushed him further into the chamber. Apollo narrowed his eyes and glared back at his jail keeper, but kept his momentum moving forward.
Fatima did not speak; instead, she pointed to her right and left where there were two wooden buckets of steaming hot water on the semi-smooth ground. Next to each bucket of water was a bar of soap and clean clothes.
Apollo cocked his head to the side. He did not recall owning a black tunic with white, karate-style pants, but he was grateful for the change of clothes, nonetheless.
With the sudden awareness that his mouth was parched, Apollo kneeled down next to his bucket and cupped his hands under the hot water, scooping out a small puddle that he brought to his mouth. He slurped the water over his chapped lips and let the warmth glide down his throat, soothing his sore esophagus. He had wondered if the vomiting he did had caused the acid from his stomach to irritate his throat. He heard Amaya take in water from her bucket, as well.
No one spoke. Tereq stood by the entrance like a two-headed dog guarding Hell while Fatima gave her best impression of a human mother preparing her babies to take on the world. She tried to show a mix of skepticism, excitement and protective love. But, no matter how hard she tried to be that woman, she was missing one key element . . . pure unfiltered love.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Apollo removed his clothes, still kneeling, nude on the ground, his privates covered by his position in front of his bucket. He splashed water on his body, face, and hair. He ran the bar of soap over the stickiness beneath his underarms and the upper inside of his thighs. In a bold, defiant move, he picked up the bucket and dumped the warm water over his head, letting the warmth massage his muscles as it clung to his pale skin.
Fatima still said nothing when she handed Apollo a towel. He felt numb, going through the motions of what looked like a typical daily routine. He had run the towel over his body and hair before he stepped into his clean clothes. He was finally free from the stench and reminder of the past two days. In an odd way, he felt like a new man.
When he glanced again at his sister, she had just pulled on her tunic and was tying back her wet hair into a ponytail. He realized that the ceremony was one thing, but the wedge between them was an open wound that needed nursing. Apollo took long strides over to her side of the cave and stood in front of her.
“What is it, Apollo?” she whispered.
“As much as I don’t want this to happen to either of us, it’s a big moment, and we need to put this thing . . . whatever it is . . . behind us.”
“I agree.”
He audibly exhaled. “So, we’re okay then?”
“No.”
“But you—”
“I agreed that we needed to put this behind us, but I can’t and won’t.”
“Why?”
“I can forgive you for dragging me into the Sombras’ pit. I can forgive you for running out on Papa and me. But, Apollo, how can I forgive you for taking a small slice of heaven and keeping it to yourself? You were selfish enough and self-centered enough to hide the one person who we both lost, yet love. She gave birth to both of us and yet you hid her as if she belonged to you. The wedge between us started the day you knew you could see and talk to our mum and yet, you never told me.” Amaya turned to face Fatima.
Apollo felt helpless. His world had all but crashed in on him, and he could barely keep the weight of disappointments from crushing his chest. He took one deep breath, closed his eyes and came to a resolve that this was going to be his new life. He would willingly become a Sanguis. His mother said that fate was already determined. He was inclined, after fighting against fate, to believe her.
Throughout the bathing and the twins’ whispered exchange, Fatima and Tereq remained silent, as if holding a vigil. The cave was darker than usual or at least in Apollo’s new reality, it seemed that way. Tereq led the twins while Fatima followed behind them. They were escorted into the back entrance of an enormous room.
Apollo swallowed as he looked around at the natural beauty before him. He was not sure what they usually used the room for, but it seemed to fit for a ceremony of any kind.
In front of them was a long aisle. At the far end of the aisle was a long bridge, which spanned a shallow, dry canal. The bridge attached at the other end to an extended ledge, which was obviously the ceremonial area.
The canal below the bridge extended the width of the entire room, separating the ceremonial area from the entrance. The canal contained stal
agmites of various sizes that pointed upward. The ceiling, on the other hand, contained many more stalactites, which hung down and pointed to the canal like many chandeliers of stone.
The wall behind and attached to the staging area was rocky and unaltered from its natural state. Apollo admitted to himself that there was a certain indigenous beauty about this one room, compared to the entire vampire cavern. It appeared to be untouched by the hands of an architect. It was a magnificent piece of natural artwork in its rawest form.
Although there were no permanent changes made to the room, Apollo noticed a slab of stone on a pedestal in the middle of the ceremonial area. It reminded him of a sacrificial table or altar that he saw in the book he found in his room, all those years ago.
On either side of the aisle were thirty Sanguis, all facing the ceremonial area. With their backs toward the twins, all of them turned in unison to face them. It was unnerving to both Apollo and Amaya. Apollo realized it had to have been their beating hearts that evoked the entire clan of vampires to turn and look in their direction.
“We’re going up front.” Tereq motioned to the twins as he started down the aisle.
Apollo glanced to his right and left at the vampires that were in human form. He mused that vampires had a life before their turning, and he wondered what their true feelings were when it came to their rebirth.
To the right of the stone bed and at the end of the stage was a kingly chair. Maximiliano filled the chair with an air of authority, a mixture of pride and malevolence.
His entwined fingers rested on his lap. His beady eyes and sadistic look seemed to follow Apollo wherever he moved. Apollo shivered at the eeriness of the entire room that had a modern, yet barbaric feel. His stomach was in knots.
After escorting the twins to the ceremonial area, Tereq and Fatima walked back across the bridge to stand with Ori and the other vampires. Amaya, Apollo, Nicholas, and Maximiliano faced the vampire audience. The whispered chatter in the crowd quieted down, and the ceremony was about to start.
Apollo felt a sudden, sharp pain in the pit of his stomach. He sensed Sophie’s cries. He had not sensed her until that exact moment. She was in trouble, and he was unable to help her. His heart began to race. Panic fed his adrenaline.
Apollo scanned the area across the bridge for Sophie. He searched furiously, his eyes darting to every detail and shadow, every vampire standing or sitting, but he could not see her. He knew she was not dead—he could hear her pleas. Then through the crowd of bloodsucking vermin, he saw her . . . in the grips of Vasco.
Vasco draped his long fingers across her mouth. His arm locked behind her biceps pulling her limbs taut behind her back. The only thing Apollo was able to focus on was her eyes. The horror in her eyes haunted him more than the ceremony he was about to face. He would get her out. In his thoughts, he made her that promise. Then, as if to acknowledge him, Sophie gave him one slight nod.
Nicholas had called attention to his peers. Instant silence filled the room. He turned to his daughter and asked, “Are you ready?”
She nodded, staring up at her father with fearful eyes. The time she had been anxiously waiting for had arrived. She was somber as she soaked in every detail.
Amaya could hear herself breathing. The quick thudding of her heart echoed in the ears of all the Sanguis. Her rapid heartbeat made the vampires squirm with the desire to feed. She took comfort in her father’s grin, his proud eyes that stared down at her. He reached out his hand and escorted her to the sacrificial bed of stone. She lay down on her back, anticipating each moment.
Nicholas took his long black fingernail and pierced the side of her neck, the length of her artery. She winced at the pain as warm blood oozed from her neck, giving off an aroma through the room that made some of the vampires restless. Clapping echoed through the cavern in anticipation of their new sister.
Nicholas’ fangs extended, and Amaya gasped. She quickly closed her eyes. He leaned over his daughter and sank his teeth into her flesh. He sucked her blood and then exchanged the blood with his venom. He performed the exchange four times before he could hear her heartbeat become lethargic. The restless crowd growled and squirmed as the residual blood poured off the stone bed and drizzled onto the ground. It was almost sadistic to expose the crowd to so much blood but not let them partake.
Instinctual hissing and fangs sprouted throughout the horde of vampires, but no one dared to interrupt. They watched and fought against their craving for blood.
Amaya reached for her chest in pain. The blood in her body was thickening, making the flow painful. Nicholas bit his wrist and fed his daughter the cold blood from his body before her heart completely stopped. If her heart was to stop without vampire blood, Amaya would die rather than be turned.
She drank, gurgled, and sputtered; water would be welcome because this nasty-tasting blood was not what she wanted. Nevertheless, she had to swallow because her father did not stop the flow into her mouth. Amaya moaned as the pain filled her entire body. She did not understand that her blood now had the viscosity of molasses. It was an assault to every blood vessel, muscle, tissue and marrow. Nicholas pulled his arm from her mouth and stepped back to watch her body fight to stay alive.
She convulsed on the table, screaming out in sheer pain. “Father, help me!” she gurgled past the blood that lingered in her mouth. Finally, her beating heart stopped and all movement in her body stopped. Amaya was dead on the table. Her lifeless right arm fell off her chest and swung like a pendulum. The bloody exchange was over. Everyone waited impatiently for a sign of success.
Nicholas’s face cracked a grin when Amaya moved her hand. She was reborn. She was now a Sanguis in its vulnerable state. Her body had been through trauma. It would need to rest and build its strength. When she would fully awaken from her vampiric coma, she would thrive with a never-ending hunger. She would drink the blood of whatever she could find.
“My daughter is now one of us.” The cheers spread through the entire clan. Nicholas put his hand up to quiet them, so he could continue. “She will be restrained in her new chamber until her hunger pangs and feeding frenzy have dissipated.”
Fatima walked across the bridge and picked Amaya up, cradling her. She removed the girl from the altar, walking across the bridge and taking her directly to her new chamber.
Apollo blocked out the commotion. After the nod from Sophie, he kept his thoughts buried in the memories with his mother. He used her love to center himself, to prevent himself from making a wrong move. He had to remain stable and right-minded if he were going to get Sophie out of the room alive. At this point, that was all he cared about. He had tried to save himself, and his sister, but fate had conquered his attempts. One thing he was sure of: Sophie’s fate did not include dying by the fangs of vampires.
“Son, are you ready?”
Apollo heard his father say the words, but he stood cemented to the rock beneath his feet. He locked his eyes with the one tangible person he promised to protect. If it were his time to die, he would want her image to be the last he remembered.
Before he realized what was going on, he noticed Sophie was getting closer to him. He broke the intense concentration. Vasco was dragging her across the bridge and to the altar.
“Is this pathetic human the hindrance that’s keeping us all in here waiting for you to turn? Why have we kept her alive?”
Apollo knew the sadistic way of Vasco. He would snap her neck before Apollo could get to her. Apollo did not wait for him to finish talking. He unplanted his feet and leapt toward Vasco.
Vasco released the girl to the ground, took both his palms and slammed them into Apollo’s chest. Apollo flew back to the edge of the altar, lost his footing and plummeted onto three stalagmites. One went through his left leg while the other two pierced his left side. Apollo, impaled, immediately started coughing up blood.
Shock temporarily paralyzed Nicholas. He heard the crowd get riled up, but he could not move. He watched his son twitch on the stalagmites.
Tereq leaped across the canal, reached down and grabbed Apollo by his shirt, yanking him up and off the sharp, dagger-like ornaments. His fluid movements moved Apollo onto the ground in front of him. With his fangs extended, Tereq pierced Apollo’s neck, releasing venom into his bloodstream. Tereq bit open his wrist and fed Apollo the frigid blood oozing from the wound.
Tereq removed his wrist from Apollo’s mouth and watched his body start to convulse. All eyes were glued on Apollo with intensity. Nicholas kneeled down next to his son and grabbed his hand, hoping Tereq had got to him fast enough. He was not ready to lose his son to death—at least, not permanent death.
Once Apollo stabilized, Nicholas listened for his slowing heartbeat and labored breathing. Apollo was silent, unable to find the strength he needed to scream out in pain. His body felt like it was on fire and ready to explode.
Then he stopped convulsing. His heart stopped beating. He was lying on the cold ground, lifeless. Apollo was dead. Everyone waited for the inevitable sign. Either he would move and be reborn, or he would not because Tereq did not get to him in time.
Utter silence fell over the clan. Even Maximiliano had stood to witness the moment. Seconds felt like endless hours. Finally, Apollo’s finger twitched. Spontaneously, his fingernails grew. When he took a long drawn in breath, the crowd thundered in cheers. His eyes remained closed, but he could hear and sense his surroundings.
Tereq stood, glaring down at the new Sanguis. “I wasn’t going to let you get out of it that easy. None of us had that choice; it was taken from us. Now you’re one of us and you’ll get to stew over the things you spend centuries doing. Just like the rest of us.” Tereq turned and walked across the bridge.
There was an unusual mixture of pride amongst the Sanguis in the triumph of adding to their ranks. There was also a form of relief that they will no longer be tortured by knowing that perfectly edible food was always around, but forbidden. The mental, emotional, and physical anguish was finally over.
Maximiliano turned to Vasco, and said, “You may take the girl and feed her to Amaya when she awakens.”
Apollo’s eyes flew open. The crowd gasped when they saw him leap to his feet and then jump to the stone bed in one flawless movement. His face was distorted, his veins bulging, his eyes completely black. In another shocking turn of events, the new vampire was not in the coma that was typical of turning. Instead, he was awake and strong, his body language stating he was ready to take on his brethren beasts.
Nicholas turned and backed away from his son, realizing there was something horribly wrong. Apollo had the same strength that Nicholas had after he was first turned—the strength of adrenaline fueled by the need to protect. Nicholas had needed to protect his babies eighteen years ago, and now Apollo needed to protect Sophie. But it was not his strength—still untested and power yet unknown—that scared his father; rather, it was the speed and the degree to which he had changed.
“Apollo, stop,” Nicholas demanded.
“Out of my way,” he growled.
Maximiliano held up his hand to restrain Apollo from moving off the stone bed. When Apollo jumped off the bed against his leader’s powers and landed on the ground, Maximiliano’s fangs extended and his wings protruded. Vasco put up his hand to his leader, holding him back, so that he could take on the new vampire. Max gave Vasco a quick nod of approval.
“You are defying our leader, son; they’ll kill you. Stand down, right now! Stand down!” Nicholas demanded.
Apollo’s fierce eyes bore into his father as he rushed toward him, pinning him against the wall. “Don’t you dare tell me to stand down.”
Before Nicholas had much time to soak in the odd changes to his son’s face and the fierce fangs that sprouted from his upper and lower jaw, Apollo grabbed his father by the arm, swung him around, and released him like an Olympic hammer thrower.
Nicholas did not travel through the air in an arc, only to fall upon the floor. Instead, he sailed in a straight line, forcefully smacking the far wall and creating an avalanche of stone and debris. He laid there dazed from the impact. As stunned as he was, Nicholas marveled at his son’s incredible strength.
Vasco would not let this fledgling aberration take over. He immediately ran toward Apollo and pinned him by the neck against the wall. “You fool. How strong do you think you can be, having just been turned?”
Apollo’s transformation was an anomaly. He manifested physical signs of an advanced elder—a hybrid of sorts. His eyes were entirely black, and his facial skin displayed veiny traces of translucency. He bore the expected upper pair of fangs and an unusual pair of double lower fangs. The sides of his muscular body already displayed stretch marks of developing elder’s wings. He was brute strength personified.
His senses were unbelievably keen. His body was the masterpiece of devastation. He could hear everything and everyone around him. But what was the ringing in his ears? In an instant, he realized it was Sophie’s heartbeat.
The cacophonies of sounds around him overwhelmed his senses, but were also the energy that gave him strength. He growled as he pushed Vasco, flinging him to the ground with utter ease.
From the humiliating position on the floor, Vasco’s eyes widened as he realized that Apollo’s strength was far greater than his own. He instantly jumped up and pushed back against Apollo, but he was no match. The warrior could not stop the boy from pushing him around like a toy.
Apollo slashed Vasco across the face and shoved him to the side, sending him flying through the air like a rag doll. Vasco crashed against the cave’s wall, and for the first time in centuries, was semiconscious from an opponent’s blow.
I don’t believe it. Maximiliano froze in awe, amazed at Apollo’s transformation. He admired his strength and the premature physical traits that only elders developed through the ages. He was aroused to see how much power and destruction he was able to carry out in so little time. He wanted that power. He needed that power.
The attending clan members quickly assembled in attack formation against Apollo.
“Don’t hurt him. Let him go,” Max commanded.
Apollo stared at the bewildered crowd. He instantly swooped over to Sophie and tucked her under his arm. He defiantly strode past Maximiliano, over the bridge, past the clan members, and out of the room. As he started through the corridors, he picked up speed.
Sophie had fainted in his arms, but he had barely noticed. He had one mission: to get them both out of the cave safely. As he effortlessly navigated the maze of corridors, the beating of her heart drove him mad.
-13-
Apollo dashed through the underground maze as if he had lived there his entire life. His heightened senses were giving him a new perspective of the world around him. Although it was dark, his surroundings were as bright as day. He could smell the musty scent of the cave floor, and the sounds around him were a chaotic mess.
Apollo’s senses were spiraling out of control. His movements felt uncoordinated, yet he could navigate through the corridors with speed and accuracy. There was a sense of knowing and understanding—knowledge of the vampire race. When the poison that Tereq released into his bloodstream stole his life, it also left behind reminiscence of Tereq’s knowledge. He could feel himself gaining mental strength.
What scared him the most was the extent of his physical abilities. He could feel the power traverse through every fiber of his being. A metamorphosis invaded his body one molecule at a time until it felt as if his whole body was on fire.
With each passing second, he could feel his muscles growing stronger, his body becoming leaner and his senses keener. But with each new change with which he wanted to come to terms, he struggled with other changes.
The hunger pangs in his stomach felt like a razor blade trying to escape through his abdomen, the echoing of Sophie’s heartbeat rung in his ears like the repetitious thud of a bass drum, and the delectable smell of her blood induced his saliva glands. He could not understand the physical yearning his body dem
anded. His desire did not settle with blood, he wanted to sink his teeth into flesh—flesh of any kind.
Apollo was aware of his senses, but he feared that his strength to control himself would lose during the first stages of this new life. What if he were not strong enough to dull the sound of Sophie’s pounding heart, or curb his innate desire to drink her blood or gnaw on her flesh? Being confused and frustrated added to his insatiable need to feast.
His father had warned him that he might lose control. His father was right. He was weak-minded with saintly intentions. At all costs, he wanted to protect the girl. He wanted to keep her out of the grips of those who might see her as food rather than the benevolent soul that she was.
He realized she might have been safer if she were further away from him. He knew he teetered on the edge of unpredictable. His desire to free her from the cave had the same relevance as allowing himself one taste of her sweet smelling blood. His instability enticed him to taste her blood just once.
Apollo’s strength and weakness were fighting each other while he continued his escape through the labyrinth of the cave walls.
He could hear her blood cells rushing through her veins like the white noise of a stream of water slapping against deep-seated rocks. Her blood was an orchestra of instruments. Her heartbeat thudded against her chest while the wisp of blood cells swam through a stream of plasma, and the delicate singsong of blood that replenished her organs was a comforting melody. He could hear it all. His stomach, fangs and watering mouth went into a frenzy of desire, need and desperation.
He ran through the entrance of the cave and into the cool air. He did not slow his momentum when he leaped over the cluster of bushes. The frigid air splashed against his warm skin, giving him a momentary separation from his instinct to devour the woman he was trying to protect.
With the cleansing clarity of the night air, Apollo realized that anger alone was going to keep him from hurting Sophie. He was livid with his father for putting him in this situation. He despised Ori and Tereq for not allowing him to escape when he had the chance. But, it was the intense disappointment toward Amaya that fueled his anger. How could she want to embrace this life? His family had lied; his human life was a lie.
He picked up his speed, jumped over the top of mammoth boulders and landed safely to the ground. He had kept Sophie protected in the cocoon of his arms. He stopped and looked back at the boulders. He was shocked that his seemingly awkward body was able to move with such agility and strength.
Without any further hesitation, Apollo ran, at blinding speed, deep into the forest. His childhood memories raced through his mind like a silent movie depicting the faces of those who he loved. When the mental images of his past had stopped, so did his run.
He scooped up dried leaves on the ground into a soft bed and laid Sophie down. His hand cupped the back of her head as he gently laid her on the bed of leaves.
He stood over her, staring down at her angelic face. He listened to the rhythm of her heart while he closed his eyes. He hoped to train himself to block out the sounds that enticed him so. His father had done it; he knew he could do it, too.
But, on this first night as a vampire, it was more than he could handle. His eyes flew open, his fangs extended, his nails grew long and sharp, and he instantly became the predator that they had made of him. He had two choices: leave, or feed on her. One way or another, he needed to eat. He ran from her, as far away as he needed to go to find his first meal.
Swiftly, Apollo ran for miles in order to release himself from the grip of Sophie’s scent and the sound of her heartbeat. But he was cognizant to keep her calm aura in his heightened senses. If her atmosphere was disrupted, he would sense it and be at her side within seconds.
He needed to feed. So, he tuned into another heartbeat within his vicinity. He moved toward the echo. He stood to the side of an elk. His instincts to feed were natural. In his full vampire glory, Apollo gripped the animal around its thick neck and used his teeth to pierce its flesh and veins.
The blood of the beast released into his fangs, sending the warm fluid through Apollo’s veins and into the core of his body. His shrunken esophagus opened and his internal organs became invigorated as the warm blood coated them with satisfaction. He felt the haunting emptiness of his stomach dissipate, and the numbness of his cloudy mind clear.
When Apollo finished feasting on the animal, it fell to the ground, nearly decapitated. He realized that his strength increased during feeding, and he noticed that he had eaten a large chunk from the animal’s neck and shoulder area.
What have I become? He stood over the carcass and studied his bloody hands in disgust. He could not believe how effortless it was for him to have done so much damage. He put his hand on his face and patted his features hoping to recognize the feel of them. His eyebrows frowned when he discovered his protruding canines. First, he felt his upper canines, then the lower ones. He palpated his muscular body, starting with his chest, his shoulders and down to his arms and thighs.
He became concerned when he noticed his body had a small, bony ridge above each shoulder blade that ran down the sides of his ribs. In a panic, he pulled open his trousers to check his penis. Then, he let out a sigh of relief.
He could smell the blood that had soaked into his clothes and began to dry on his face. He grabbed handfuls of pine needles off the ground and rubbed them over his body, clothes and face. He was able to remove some of the blood but not all of it. He needed to wash away the filth and disgust of this beast he had become.
Within seconds, he stood near a stream that traveled through the lower half of the forest. He leaned over to splash water on his face. Startled, he stopped when he saw his reflection staring back at him. Apollo gazed at the mirrored image from the moonlight in the stillness of the water. He felt his eyes fill with unshed tears. The liquid mirror gave him a visual of a single tear making its slide down his face. He slammed his hand into the water, knelt and sobbed into his palms.