Nocturnus Eternal Ch. 01

CREATIVE CONSULTANTS:

Simply_Cyn and Miriam Belle

EDITOR:

Miriam Belle

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

-"This is not a sequel...

What you're about to read is the final version of a previous story entitled 'Beyond Nocturne.' For those of you that have read the original version, or the first draft as I like to refer to it, you'll notice some massive changes in the characters such as names, motives and relationships. The character of Lydia (from the original 'Beyond Nocturne') is now named Renee. The only reason for this change is that I felt the name Renee suited her character better. I wrote 'Beyond Nocturne' almost 3 years ago and a lot the ideas, names and plot points didn't feel right to me anymore, so I made changes for this final cut of the book. Even the title changed to reflect the newer, darker direction of the book. I also feel I've grown enough as a writer that this version would be a better offering for the reader.

This story is longer and far more in depth. It is the story of one woman and her journey through life, and I would hope, a real scary read. If you've never read 'Beyond Nocturne,' don't worry. You can read 'Nocturnus Eternal' by itself and still get the same story only with more substance. If you'd like, check out 'Beyond Nocturne' when you're done here and compare notes.

Please note this is a novel length story, and I have broken it down into moderately short chapters. I am still in the process of finishing this final version and plan to post a new chapter every month. Your feedback is welcome. Thanks!" --bluefox07

***

THE COLOR OF BLOOD

1

Bolts of lightning flashed over the city of Sacramento like hundreds of electric skeletal hands reaching out for their next victim. Sheets of rain fell and drenched the tall buildings, streets and people alike. In the deep, manmade crevasses of the city cars slowed down, windshield wipers began squeaking back and forth methodically and those few with the foresight to have an umbrella on hand popped them open and hurried along with everyone else to their homes and offices. It had been overcast all day long, and as midday passed the flat gray expanse above them grew prophetically dark and foreboding. The unbroken cover transformed into a mass of thick, heavy clouds that rolled and churned, building up to what would be a torrential climax.

Renee Christian stood quietly in the downpour, relaxed in the outer eave of the Borders Bookstore on Fair Oaks Boulevard, her eyes alive and silent, her presence unnoticed. She liked reading the books the corporate giant sold, but more often she came here to see the people. They walked by her, each one of them consumed by their own thoughts and passions and unaware of her interest.

It wasn't all that hard to figure out what was going on in their minds, but often knowing what they were thinking wasn't enough. She needed to feel the power behind those thoughts and the emotions that fueled them. Their motives were as varied and often as contradicting as the people themselves.

Would the schoolteacher (who had just bought four large books on American History from the bargain rack to better reduce the impact of purchasing the latest issue of Playboy and Penthouse) decide to have pork or beef for dinner? Would the woman in the gray trench coat (who had just finished the amazing feat of slipping a small novel out of the store unnoticed and unpaid for) stepping into the cab actually cheat on her husband with her boss?

A young girl waiting for her ride home not more than ten feet away was deeply considering suicide over a recent abortion. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. All she could see at night now was the partially formed face of a baby she would never know, the small black pea eyes looking at her in wicked accusation. Conversely, the man behind her could only fix his eyes on her ass, lusting after her even as thoughts of his wife and children flashed before his eyes.

Renee could feel them all as they passed by, their emotional states radiating off their bodies in an unseen electrical field. The hair on the back of her neck stiffened every time she came in contact with that field. It was a physical reaction to the intangible elements composing the human soul, elements that because of her very nature, she could somehow quantify into substance where other could only see chaos. The heat of anger burned on her skin, the coldness of despair and grief could chill her and the fires of passion affected her as if it were her very own.

Renee turned away, feeling the pressure of all these people multiplying as she opened herself up to them, trying to understand them. She had once known what it meant to be one of them, but that understanding had been lost with her humanity a long time ago. It was now only a concept that came to her in dreams, and even then so fragile that even looking at it in would cause it to evaporate from her mind as if it had never existed. She hoped to find in these humans the answers to her questions.

But thus far she had rarely seen anything but anger, hate and hypocrisy. With each man and woman that passed by, she found more and more reason to forsake that understanding of what it is to be human. Occasionally, she would touch upon a child, simple and innocent, too young to have been marked the world yet. She would relish those moments, because they were few and far between. When it did happen, it made her heart beat just a little faster. With that small change, she knew she was still alive. But that never lasted very long. There was always the thirst.

The telepathy was the ying to the thirst's yang, the only light of hope in her life. She could still remember the period of autism she had endured shortly after turning. All the thoughts and feelings of those around her overwhelmed and fried her mind. It took a year to recover and adjust to her new life, but when she finally did she discovered she was one of the most gifted "seers" of the vampire nation.

Renee mastered her abilities and came to love the ability to feel other people's thoughts, and as long she never opened herself up too much to all the voices, she could amuse herself for hours listening. Sometimes, when she actually found someone who wasn't demented, crazy, hateful, sadistic or lecherous, she could almost feel normal again.

And even then, there were no answers for her.

She stepped out into the storm and began strolling around the store.

The rain splashed on her head and trickled down her porcelain face, the length of her neck and into the folds of her coat and shirt. A single drop made it past the neck of the white blouse shirt and rolled into the deep crevasse of her breasts. A shudder ran through her as the cool rain droplet warmed against her skin and then disappeared. She supposed that everyone, man and beast alike, was like a water droplet, falling, gaining speed from the infinite cradle of it's creation and then colliding with destiny. It didn't matter what happened after that because the same thing happens to every drop of rain that has ever fallen from the heavens. And when it has returned to the sky, it falls again starting the cycle anew.

It was such a cliché.

Profound perhaps, but a cliché nonetheless.

Renee paused, knowing full well now that her time had come and with a small groan she felt the thirst inside of her stir. It clenched her stomach, making her both nauseous and aware at the same time. It was so seductive in it's reasoning, trying to hide the evil of its nature by promising such pleasure and satisfaction if she would only hunt. If she would only feed.

Her hands curled into fists inside the warm pockets of her black overcoat, her mind considering the inevitable series of events that was about to unfold. She hated the part of herself that craved like this, possessed by an insatiable need to kill. It was the dark side of her nature, the downside to the vampiric virus she had been infected with.

She passed a phone both, strangely luminescent with its neon lighting and bright blue billboard sign that read PACBELL. In the reflection of the glass, she saw the lights of the streets, buildings and cars distort into an abstract world, a world in which she was the center of all things. The reflection regarded her, a questioning expression on its face as she cocked her head and looked at herself. She saw her thick auburn hair was wet, hanging and dripping from her skull, her light blue eyes still eerily bright in this gray world of reflections. Her skin was milky and pure, eternally the age of twenty-five for the rest of her life and preserved like the glass of a porcelain doll. That was she felt most of the time, empty and hollow like a doll.

Her lips were full and naturally red. Though they once had seen birth to a thousand different laughs, passing so often as to create slight lines around the corners, there was no smile to be found now. Her reflection leered a hateful smile back at her anyway.

She thought of her first kill as she looked, feeling the remorse and self-loathing that went with the experience hand-in-hand as though it were happening all over again. The memory played like an old movie in her mind's eye for a brief eternal second. She hated reliving it, but every time the thirst reared its ugly head she couldn't help but be reminded. She remembered it was raining as hard that night as it was now. She remembered standing in the downpour, feeling so hungry and scared. And then there was a-

- presence in her thoughts.

Renee glances around as rain pelts her skin, her eyes scanning the crowd for the origin of this new feeling. The urges inside her have overcome her like monstrous waves in a typhoon to a small boat. Her resistance could only last so long before she had to leave the house. Her body is not her own as she stands in the rain, waiting. Her mind races with thoughts of death and the promise of fulfillment as her newfound instincts zero in on her first kill.

She slowly turns and seeks him out in the ever-changing sea of people. She can see his face as being broad, strong and with kind eyes. She can almost taste the blood pumping through his veins, as though she had just bitten him. She hates the idea of drinking the blood. It repulses her even as the thirst cries out for it. She can already tastes the metallic sweet flavor as his footsteps grow loud in her mind, separate and distinct from those around him.

He is so close.

Her heart pounds as she searches the crowd. She walks further down the street and realizes he is within a foot or two of her. An electric sensation snaps and arcs through her body as gooseflesh rises across her skin. Short, shallow breaths escape her lungs as her mind reaches out for him and touches him. Renee licks her lips as her thirst becomes intoxicating. She knows she should not do this, that she should fight it and resist. But it tempts her with such promises of fulfillment that her tired mind begins to reason and negotiate.

And she is so hungry.

He is irresistible as she watches him walk by her, a bundle of books and papers under his arm. He looks out at the rain and shakes his head as he mutters something to himself and buttons up his dark pea coat. A matching knit cap is pulled down close to his skull and compliments his eyes. The man is tall, at least six foot and has dark features, eyebrows and a goatee to match the pitch black of his clothes. Like her, he clothes himself in dark garments to better blend in with the world around him. He does not wish to be seen.

He stops under the outer eave of the Aladdin Theater and makes sure his books are dry and secure.

Renee watches him, trying to subdue the rabid thirst building inside her in her stomach and flaring to her limbs. He has no malice in him, no anger. His is a simple heart that desires only the simple things in life. His blood is pure and untainted, a life force untouched by the essence of another woman or man. Renee cannot believe that a man like this, despite his beauty, is a virgin.

The thirst is becoming unbearable as she walks over to him, observing her prey. She runs her tongue along the edges of her teeth in anticipation. She hates the hunger within her as she hates the relentless manner in which it has slowly broken her spirit of resistance. Ever since the bite, ever since she knew what she had become, she had fought the thirst off. Telling herself that she was losing the battle was only an exercise in redundancy. The battle had been lost the moment she stepped out the door of her home and began wandering.

"Hello," Renee smiles warmly and stands beside him.

He turns, a little startled at the sudden sound her voice, and then relaxes. He is even more handsome up close, his face clear of blemishes and young. His eyes are almost as black as the night itself, showing no signs of his irises. His neck is thick, and beneath his pale skin she can see traces of the blue veins carrying his blood.

"Hi," he replies, smiling courteously. His gaze lingers for a moment, uncertain and suddenly suspicious.

"Hell of a storm," she says. Did he know what she was? Could he sense the unrelenting thirst that consumed her?

"Yes it is," he says amiably, clearly uncomfortable with sudden conversations with strangers.

"You got a name?" Renee asks bluntly.

The man eyes her for a second and then says, "Steve."

"My name is Renee," she says as she pulls her umbrella out from under her long, black coat. "Care to share?"

Steve looks at the umbrella and then at her hair. "It must not be a very good umbrella, you're soaked."

"Sometimes I just like to play in the rain."

Steve smiles, and she feels some of the fear go away.

"Listen, I know we just met and all," Renee smiles as she searches his mind, "But could you give me a lift?"

Steve shrugs, "I don't know. Where do you live?"

Renee looks thoughtfully at him for a moment as she quickly scans his mind. She smiles at him coyly and buys herself a little more time, "Promise you won't stalk me?"

Steve laughs, "I promise."

Renee finds what she was looking for and says, "I live on T Street."

"No shit?" Steve blinks, "I live on T Street too."

Renee touches his arm, "I doubt that. I think I'd remember you."

"No, seriously," Steve says, "1808 T Street, one of the bigger houses they chopped up into apartments."

"No kidding?" Renee regards him skeptically, her blue eyes focused intently.

Steve nods, and then after a moment he says, "Well, you're on my way home. Why not?"

"Thanks," Renee rubs his arm again. Steve looks at her friendly gesture, certain now she is just flirting to get a ride home, and that is fine by his count.

Renee pops the umbrella open and they walk together through the crowded streets. She lets herself slip slowly into his mind and begin soothing him, preparing him for the moment. She isn't even completely aware she is doing it. Rather, she is following the instincts given to her by her internal jailer. She finds herself too weak to say no.

There is no resistance to her intrusion, if he even is aware of it. She begins to stimulate him with vivid images of sex. She slips images of herself naked into his mind, her soft skin backlit by some ethereal light causing it glow. In these fleeting visions, her full breasts are hanging freely in the almost tangible light, her nipples erect and begging for his touch. To her surprise, she is enjoying the imagery almost as much as he is.

'Don't do this,' a small voice calls from the back of her mind dismally, 'you know this is wrong. Don't do this...'

"What do you do?" she asks as he unlocks the door to his dark green Studebaker.

"Huh?" Steve stammers, almost dropping his coffee. He has been far too preoccupied with the sudden barrage of sexual thoughts and ambitions to be alert.

"I asked what do you do?"

"I'm an architect," he says and tries to not stare at her. Steve clears his throat as he flips through his key ring.

"That's great," she says as the door unlocks and they get inside.

'This is wrong,' the voice reasons with her, 'He's an innocent.'

She wonders for a moment how she would live with herself after she committed to doing this heinous deed. The thought of learning to live with the conscience of a murderer scares her to her deepest recesses. She also knows she is afraid to die. Renee knows it is a shitty deal all the way around, this business of murdering to stay alive. But she cannot fight off the inevitability of what the thirst was about to make her do any more than she can stop breathing air.

"The traffic should pretty well be dead by now on 50," he struggles to establish some small talk with the gorgeous woman he had somehow stumbled across.

"I imagine it would be by now, Steve," Renee gazes at him as her heart breaks.

Her stomach clenches violently and she almost doubles over as the thirst demands her attention like a spoiled child. Renee can feel she is running out of time as the moral battle of her heart versus her bane raged inside. Her mind screams to stop, begs her not to commit to this act, but she is falling to temptation. When the sun set tomorrow night, when she wakes from her sleep, she knows that she will regret her impulsive and selfish decisions tonight.

With a simple thought that she can hardly believe she is thinking, she causes the essence of his sexuality to flood through his body, enriching his blood. If she wanted to, she could cause him to orgasm right there. She knows it would only take the right amount of stimulation. The mind is a powerful device, so loose in the translation of what is real and what is not. Steve trusts his own thoughts like everyone else, but he could not know that he was beginning to trust Renee in the same way.

"You look so familiar to me," he clears his throat, a blush rising to his cheeks. Renee begins creating memories of them together, as though she has been his lover for years. She twists his past to include her, to include the passion that she so desperately wants for herself but can never have now. And as she instinctively manipulates the fabric of his being, she finds that she can barely hear that small voice of protest anymore. It is an echo now, lost in the rage of her vampiric thirst.

She was becoming a monster, the final stage of her initiation into the ranks of the damned only minutes away.

"Well, I should Steve," she says innocently and then tests the suggested memories in his head, "We've only been dating for six years."

He looks confused for a moment, and Renee thinks maybe she has underestimated him. She can feel him thinking about what she had just said, part of him knowing it wasn't true and yet unable to deny the new memories she has implanted into him. As they drive down the street, she can see him processing the information and digesting it, coming to terms with it and finally accepting it.

They merge onto the waterlogged highway. As Steve had said earlier, traffic is pretty much dead in comparison to what it had been during the rush hour to get home. Renee wonders if she has been too bold in her control of his mind, if she might have overplayed her hand by being impatient. Finally, he looks over at her and smiles sheepishly. "What a stupid question."

"No kidding," Renee breathes as Steve drives them both to the inevitable. A few minutes later, they are off the freeway and back into the city again. Renee watches him out of the corner of her eye. Steve is nervous, of that she is sure. His bottom lip works habitually against his upper teeth as he drives and takes in the subtle suggestions she is feeding him. The car turns and they roll down T Street for few minutes.

Instead of asking where she lives, Steve pulls to the curb in front of his apartment. The house is large, probably a very expensive one in its heyday, but now is aged and seems like a pale ghost of its former self in the shadows. Fat drops of water form and plummet from the leaves and branches of the large oak trees that line the sidewalks and walkways. The thick foliage obscures the structure fairly well from the street and casts shadows across the pallid walls as the street lamps buzz and hum with their warm sodium light.