Cazi's Journey

Cassandra's eyes snapped open, her hands reaching up to her neck, remembering the feel of her blood running down her neck. She could tell she was in her bedroom in her apartment on Thames Street. She began to convince herself that the memories of her bleeding and dying were nothing more than a bad dream as she looked around. There was little light but her eyes had no problem picking out every little detail in the dark room: the half-burned logs in the fireplace, the lace on the table, the empty chair at the table opposite the not-so-empty one. The man occupying the chair was the same man she had met at the pub the night before. His eyes seemed to glow in the darkness as he sat in the chair watching her.

Several things came to her at once. First was an incredible sense of thirst, or maybe hunger, pervaded her entire body. The next thing she noticed was the feel of the bedclothes against the skin of her back. She looked down and, with a gasp, noticed that she was naked atop her covers. She quickly crossed her arms over her ample bosom and sat up, raising one sleek thigh slightly to block any sight of her. "Who are you?" She spat out nervously. "What are you doing in my room?"

The man smiled. "You invited me here last night, Cassandra. As for who I am, I am Alfred. We met last night at the play you attended after the day's events at the Olympics." The man kept his smile in place, his lips not moving although she heard his voice clearly in her mind. "Remember, Cassandra. Remember it all."

Her eyes widened as a blur of memories surged into her mind as she heard his voice in her head. She wasn't able to pick any one thing out of the blurred rush of images but shedid remember meeting him at the theater she had gone to in order to see a play she had been dying to see. She lunged out of her bed and ran to her dressing closet, her long coppery curls flowing behind her. She grabbed a thick robe from the closet and held it in front of her as she swung it around her, turning her back to the strange man in her room, apparently at her invitation.

"I... I remember." Now that she remembered the man in her room, she remembered other things: the feel of his cool hands sliding over her warm flesh, the hardness of his body against hers, the feel of his manhood driving deep into her again and again. She also remembered the feel of his teeth sliding into the skin of her inner thigh, breast and neck as they had sex. She shook her head, trying again to convince herself that those memories were just part of her dream.

"It was no dream, Cassandra." She turned to look at him in shock as he answered her thoughts aloud. He just smiled his smile and nodded. "It really happened. I fed from you and you fed from me. That is why you are feeling the thirst and hunger you are feeling." Alfred rose and smoothed down his coat.

"What did you do to me?" Cassandra said, her thoughts racing. "How did you know what I was thinking?" Her words came out in a rush as she stared at the man in shock.

Alfred smiled and held one pale hand out to her. "I made you eternally young and beautiful, my sweet Cazi. Soon I will go and bring you something to take care of your thirst." He kept his hand held out to her as she refused to move.

Horror swept through her as she heard his words, his voice again triggering memories in her mind so vivid that she didn't even register the name he had called her, a name she had not heard except from her family and their servants when she was a child in India. She staggered over to the bed and sat down hard, her mind carried away by the rush of memories of yesterday flowing through her mind.

The stands in the White City stadium were packed to overflowing with people watching for the arrival of the marathon runners. Cassandra Bevington waved her fan back and forth in front of her face to cool herself off as she looked around waiting for the runners to arrive. The race had started nearly three hours before and she knew that they should be arriving at any time. She had not expected the day's heat to get as bad as it had but she was glad that she had brought a fan with her to help keep her somewhat cool.

A thunderous cheer got her attention and she rose, looking in the direction of the entrance to the stadium. The Italian runner had just entered the stadium. She could see that the man was exhausted from the nearly twenty-six mile run in the heat. A small laugh escaped her as she saw the man turn the wrong way. The laugh was cut short by a gasp as the man fell to the ground. The crowd continued to cheer as the man struggled to get to his feet.

Fanning her face with her folding fan she looked on in shock as a pair of men ran out onto the track. Each one of them grabbed an arm and helped the runner to his feet. "Is that legal?" she asked the man next to her cheering loudly. He apparently did not hear her as he continued cheering without even acknowledging her question. As she watched the runner fell three more times, slipping from the helping grasp of the two men moving beside him. They half-carried him almost to the finish line. As they approached the line they let go of his arms, letting him cross the line under his own power.

As the fans packing the stadium went berserk cheering the finish the second place runner entered the stadium. The Italian runner, Dorando Pietri, was announced as the winner but she could not hear the name as the announcer with his cone spoke. It quickly made its way through the crowd as well as the name of the second place runner, American Johnny Hayes. She saw officials gathering around as the American crossed the finish line, securing the silver medal for himself and his country and wondered what the gathering was about.

When the announcement was made that Pietri had been disqualified for the assistance he had gotten from the two officials a roaring boo went up in place of the cheers that had drowned out the announcement that he had won. Immediately fights began to break out in the stadium between spectators. Cassandra watched in disgusted disbelief. Even in India people did not behave this way.

She gathered her things and began to slowly make her way out of the stands. The going was slow as more and more people joined in the brawling going on over the result of the race. She eventually got out of the stands and began to make her way through the streets. She took her time going through the streets of London, making her way back to her residence on Bond Street, where she had been living while attending the Olympics. The fighting in the stands had ruined any mood she had to watch the rest of the men finishing the marathon.

Passing a pub she had visited a few months before with one of her nocturnal companions she decided to salvage the rest of her night and take some company back to her apartment with her tonight. She made her way back to her Bond Street apartment and went to her bedroom. Quickly she changed clothes and sat down to have a bite to eat. She cut the rest of the pie she had bought the day before into pieces and ate slowly letting time pass before she emerged onto the streets.

At times she felt guilty about her frequent excursions into the city to find companionship for a night or two. Thoughts of her beloved Henry often brought about those feelings. Then she would think about the polite people, her husband's friends, who shunned her after she put off her mourning clothes after only around eight months. When she thought about them and the way they treated her, like she was ignorant just because she was born and raised in India, she would get furious and any feelings of guilt would go right out of the window as she sought and found solace and release from the behavioral strictures her 'station' imposed on her in public, if even for a night.

The sun had not quite set when she rose from the table and left the apartment behind. She did not expect to return to it tonight if everything went well. She would use her apartment on Thames Street for her night's dalliance. She smiled to herself as she turned up the street, fading into the pedestrians easily, once more to return to the anonymity of London's burgeoning middle class. Her dress was well-made in the latest fashion from Paris but was purchased from a shop catering to the less affluent side of London. Her long red hair hung in a mass of wavy curls down her back since she did not have her servant, Amina, to help her with putting it up.

She smiled at the thought of her childhood nanny's reaction if she ever found out what she did on her long excursions into the city. The Indian woman was only a few years older than she was, but they had grown up together, as much friends as mistress and servant. As such she let the Indian woman take liberties that she most probably shouldn't have allowed her. She frowned as she remembered the reactions of Henry's friends the first time Amina had corrected her in front of them. A combination of shock and outrage had led one of them to even raise his riding crop to, in his words, 'chastise this woman properly to remind her of her place'. Luckily Cassandra had recovered from her shock at their reactions and sent Amina back upstairs before the Indian woman had unleashed one of her verbal tirades, infamous in the Bevington household and responsible for much of the other servants' good behavior, on the unsuspecting, young Lord-to-be.

At times she wondered if she would ever understand the intricacies of British life. As a Colonial, born and raised in India, she was still subject to the Crown's Rule, but life was so different there, so much more simple. Her upbringing had given her an education in many things. She could ride a horse, speak several languages, including German and the dialect of Indian that her family's servants had spoken, oversee the running of a plantation providing tea for the Empire, sew her own clothes and shoot a pistol and rifle as well as many men. But try as she might she could never fit in with people who saw her as a 'jumped-up' Colonial who was only where she was because she had gotten lucky and married well.

Cassandra looked at Alfred. "What do you mean you made me eternally young and beautiful? What are you? What did you do to me?"

Alfred's smile slipped a bit as he lowered his hand. "I have given you what you wanted, Cassandra. In your heart you wanted to be as you are now forever. And you will be. It is a gift, though some call it a curse, that is given to a rare few. You," He said, his dark, luminescent eyes locked on hers, " are now a vampire."

Cassandra barked a short laugh before stopping herself. "A vampire? You mean like in the stories?Dracula and that other one,Carmilla? Those are just stories. Vampire's don't really exist." She looked at the man, fear and confusion evident on her face. "Do they?"

"Yes, Cassandra," He said. "They most certainly do exist.Dracula andCarmilla are just works of fiction, this is true. But the subject they tell of, vampires, is absolutely true."

"But how?" Cassandra interrupted him without a thought. "Surely someone would have seen them and told of their existence."

Alfred smiled and accepted the interruption. "Someone has. Vampire's are well known to exist in many parts of Europe. Their existence is an accepted fact of day to day life." He shrugged and chuckled. "True, the most 'accepting' of our existence are those who are the most backwards by today's standards. But that doesn't change the fact that we exist. Vampires have been around for thousands of years, possibly back all the way back to the Garden of Eden."

Cassandra, her disbelief still evident on her face, asked tentatively, "Are you... that old?"

Still smiling, Alfred shook his head. "Back to the Garden of Eden? No. Nowhere near that old. My original name was Aelfric. I was a nobleman in the Court of King Alfred the Great. As a human, I saw the conception of the Kingdom of England at Alfred's hands. I was one of the men that served him as he sought to unify the Saxon Kingdoms to fight the Vikings."

"How did you become a vampire?" Cassandra asked, confusion still evident on her face as she pressed her hands to her belly trying to ignore the thirst/hunger rampaging through her.

"I was riding home from a meeting one night when I was taken off of my horse by a woman with light red hair. I heard a voice in my head. It was in the language of the Danes, but somehow I could understand it. It said that the Saxon cause was lost and that I was going to feed the conquerers. I felt a pain in my neck as I struggled to get free, to grab my sword or my knife, to do something, anything to get free. I felt myself growing weaker and weaker. Finally she just let me drop to the ground and disappeared, like a ghost, leaving me to die in the woods."

Cassandra listened, his words enthralling her as he described his own death. "The next thing I knew, I was again struggling against someone's grip on me. This time it was someone holding something to my mouth. When I could see again I saw it was his arm. I was drinking his blood. When he decided that I had had enough, he pulled his arm away from my mouth and just watched me. Soon the pain hit me, both excruciating and exhilarating at the same time. When the pain had passed, I was as you see me now."

"Who was the woman? And who was the man?" Cassandra asked, unconsciously leaning forward to hear more.

"The woman I did not know and did not find out her identity until later. She is irrelevant. The man, he was from a race that preceded even the Romans in Britain. He called himself Cadeyrn. He was a prince of his tribe. He was turned into a vampire by someone he did not know and never saw again. He helped me to learn the powers that becoming a vampire gave me." He nodded to her, smiling. "As I will do for you if you allow it."

"Such a fantastic tale would be ideal for the stage, Aelfric." Cassandra said, her curiosity peaked by the story she had just heard though she tried not to show it.

"I know you do not believe me, Cassandra. But I can prove the truth..." Suddenly he moved, his figure almost blurring as he went from beside her bed to standing over by the window in but a second. "...of my words. This is just the beginning of my proof. Let me show you." With another blur of movement he was standing back beside her.

"How..." Cassandra managed to stammer out.

"All in due time, Cassandra. I will teach you that as well as many other things soon enough. For now you must feed." He took her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly with lips just slightly too cool. "Remain here. I will return with your meal." He barely gave her a moment to acknowledge his words before disappearing out the door. Cassandra could not believe his speed. He had made it out of the door before her hand even lowered back to her leg.

She rose and walked over to her dressing closet. As she changed out of her robe into more suitable clothing, memories flooded her mind again.

As she and her escort walked through the streets of London, Cassandra noticed fewer people out than when she had come through on her way to the Adelphi Theatre. She had gone there to watch the theatrical version of 'Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde'.She had read the book years ago and enjoyed it very much so she decided to see the play. Despite her desire to blend in with the other patrons of the show she had purchased a ticket in a box overlooking the stage.

There she had met Alfred, a man about her age though she couldn't tell his exact age by looking at him. He was dressed nicely in a charcoal-gray sack coat and trousers with a white waistcoat and shirt. In the theatre his homburg had been in his hand, though he wore it at an almost-jaunty angle on his head as they walked. He had asked her permission before taking the chair next to her. After a quick, subtle look she had smiled and given it. Contrary to the short style of the day, his brown hair was to his shoulders. His beard was neatly trimmed with a slight point, but his mustache, unlike the elaborate curl most gentlemen wore, was also trimmed short.

After he sat down they had introduced themselves. They had chatted amiably before the start of the show and enjoyed it immensely together. As the show and the night went on, she had decided that he was the one she would take back to Thames Street for the night. Shortly after she had made that decision, during a break between acts, he had asked if she would allow him the privilege of walking her home after the show. She had secretly been thrilled at the question though she appeared to give the matter the proper consideration such a request need be given. During the next intermission she had agreed to allow him to accompany her to her house. He had smiled and bowed his head a bit to her.

When they reached the door to her Thames Street apartment they stopped. As if it was a sudden thought she blurted out "Would you like to come upstairs with me?" She blushed appropriately at such forwardness.

He smiled and gave another short nod of his head. "I would like that very much, Miss Cassandra." She couldn't quite place his accent but, her face still crimson, she turned and unlocked the door. He reached out and held the door open for her and followed her up the stairs to her apartment. He waited as she unlocked the door and then opened it for her. "After you, Miss Cassandra." he said.

She smiled and gave a slight curtsy to him before preceding him into the modest apartment she kept for just such a need. He took off his homburg and followed her into the apartment, hanging it on a hook near the door. "Would you like something to drink, Alfred?" she asked, smiling charmingly at him.

"Not at the moment, Miss Cassandra." He said as he stepped closer to her, looking down at her from mere inches away.

The look in his eyes made her inexplicably nervous and she started to step back. She gasped as his arm slid around her waist, pulling her tight to his chest. As she opened her mouth to protest, she found his lips pressing tightly to hers. She struggled for a few seconds but, as his lips moved against hers, she found her odd reluctance melting away. She slid her arms around his neck and began to return his kisses eagerly. In the back of her mind she noticed the coolness of his lips, but her growing arousal overrode any thought of that, attributing it to the coolness of the night after the day's odd heat.

Soon she broke the kiss, looking up into his dark eyes, thinking it was a trick of the light that made them seem to glow as they did. She murmured "Let's go to my room" a bit breathlessly. He merely smiled that smile of his and nodded his agreement. She unwrapped her arms from around his neck and took his hand, turning to lead him into the small bedchamber just off of the main room.

As soon as they were both in the room Alfred turned and closed the door, keeping his other hand in hers. When he turned back to her he reached up and began to loosen his tie. She watched almost spellbound as he removed his tie and coat, laying them over the back of her dressing chair, and unbuttoned his waistcoat. She stared into his eyes as he stepped close to her once again and began to unbutton her dress.

Time seemed to blur for her for a few minutes and, without her having been aware that he was doing it, he undressed her totally. She looked down at her dress and undergarments puddled around her feet, surprise on her face. As she looked back at him he stepped close to her again, once more pulling her to him. Her now nude form seemed to mold itself to his chest as her lips again met his for another lingering kiss. It was then that she realized that he was nude as well. She moaned against his lips as she felt the hardness of his manhood pressing against her smooth skin.