Second Chance

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A dying girl is saved by a friendly vampire.
2.8k words
4.45
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Ygraine
Ygraine
60 Followers

"Care to chance your arm in Dublin?" The voice on the other end of the phone was bright and cheerful in the midday office gloom. "Somehow I've been given the job of organising a weekend away. Would you like to come?"

Donna gazed at the pile of papers on her desk, each one shouting it's own insoluble problem.

"Yes, I'd love to. When is it and how much will it cost?"

Karen quickly told her the details, chatting happily away; unaware that Donna was only half listening. Donna knew that she needed something to look forward to in her life now Nick had gone. He would never know the turmoil he'd left behind.

"So, if you put the cheque in the post, I'll see you at the Ryan Air desk a week on Friday at 12.15 p.m."

"That sounds great!" Donna thanked her. "See you soon."

There was a crowd of young women and luggage waiting in a circle in front of the airline check-in desk. Donna nearly fell over them.

"You should have warned me there would be so many coming with us!" she hissed to Karen as she handed her ticket to the girl behind the counter. Karen grinned and turned to greet another newcomer, leaving Donna to tag along with the crowd. They all made their way up through the security screening and into the excitement of the duty free.

"You've time for something to eat if you like," Karen told Donna in the departure lounge. "There'll be no food on the flight and I know how hungry you get!"

Donna grabbed a bacon sandwich and some chamomile tea, but she only had time for a few mouthfuls before the flight was called. The young women made their way in a noisy crocodile through the gate and down the stairs, almost blown away by the wind as they walked across the tarmac to the waiting plane. Soon they were high above the clouds, sunlight streaming in through the windows, throwing dark shadows on the ocean as they descended after only a few minutes into Dublin airport.

When they reached the hotel, some of the group were ready for a rest. Donna was frustrated. Although she was tired, if she slept now, so many opportunities would be lost.

Karen looked at her. "Drop your bags in your room and meet me down here in 5 minutes"

It was easily done. Donna's room was on the second floor overlooking the main street. As they walked out into the street, the pavements were heaving with people. The roads were packed with cars and no-one gave much thought to pedestrians. Eventually they forced their way down to Trinity College and into a quiet haven of tranquillity

"Do you recognise it?" Karen asked. "Michael Cain was here in `Educating Rita'."

Donna looked round at the red brick and imposing Tower. She loved that film and the square did look familiar.

"This way" Karen beckoned her towards the library as she stopped to take a photograph.

"Why the library?"

"You'll see."

"As they entered the building, signs directed them towards the Book of Kells, something Donna had always wanted to see. The dim lights and beautiful illustrations covering the walls made her forget her fatigue. She walked round the displays slowly, savouring the explanations and new experiences.

"Those poor monks", she murmured to herself as she read of the continual burning and rebuilding of Kells monastery.

"Yes, they did get tired of the constant sacking," said a voice at her elbow. She looked round, acutely aware of the tall figure by her side. The man's face was not smiling as she stole a glance at him. He seemed to be remembering a time long ago. He wore a green tweed suit smelling strangely of Christmas spices. His hands touched the glass as if he were trying to read the portions of manuscript with his fingers.

"It was the way, then," he continued. "Once the Vikings knew you had valuables, you were a sitting target for their raids. Iona had much the same trouble."

Donna felt herself blush under his severe gaze. She mumbled something, trying to move on. She went over to the Ogham stones in the middle of the exhibition, trying to make sense of the markings on the dark grey granite. The man did not follow, but she could feel his gaze upon her. Thankfully, Karen joined her at that moment; together they discovered how vellum was produced, then gazed in wonder at the ancient manuscripts from Kell.

They climbed the stairs into the Long Room, which held more ancient books. Donna had to stop for a moment. She could feel heat pouring out from the books and she could hardly breath. She covered her confusion by appearing to study the oldest Irish harp in its glass case. She had never seen an instrument so covered with decoration.

"The decorations all mean something" The man's voice was barely a whisper at her side. "Would you like me to translate for you?"

Donna looked at her watch, too agitated to meet his gaze. "I'm afraid there's no time. It's 5 o'clock and I wanted to get some postcards"

She fled down the stairs to the gift shop, hiding behind the racks in the hope that he wouldn't try and follow her. Karen was waiting by the door as she made her purchases.

"Fancy a drink?" she asked.

"No, I'd better go back and rest before dinner."

Karen looked concerned. "Will you be all right?" Of all her friends, only Karen knew the truth about her illness.

"Oh yes," Donna nodded, "I'll be fine." For now, she thought to herself, but I wouldn't make any guarantees for tomorrow.

The bed at the hotel was hard, but the covers were warm. She lay on her back, trying to ease the aching in her spine. Soon she drifted off to sleep. She dreamed she saw a man's face hovering above her. He had short dark hair, like a monk's, but without the tonsure. The face moved from beside the window, air behind it shimmering against the wall. Donna could feel how much it wanted to enter her soul and claim her.

"No!" she screamed. "I'm not yours!"

Breathing heavily, she opened her eyes and realised she'd only been dreaming. Night had fallen while she slept. She sat up and slid her legs over the side of the bed. They were shaking, the terror of the dream still gripping her. She could smell a familiar scent like nutmeg and cinnamon as she stood up and walked across the room. It grew stronger as she neared the window and started to pull the heavy curtains together. As she glanced down into the street below she saw a red carriage drawn by a solid chestnut pony. Donna watched as a tall man, with distinctively cropped hair, climbed into the cab and it moved slowly off towards the main street.

The group of friends were well into their second drink by the time Donna reached the hotel bar. Snippets of conversation and raucous laughter filled the air. Donna sipped her tonic quietly; thankful for the ice helping to cool her sweating body.

Soon they all spilled out into the street and began searching for somewhere to eat. Most of the world seemed to have congregated in Temple Bar that night. Eventually they found a restaurant that could seat them all and when they finished eating, they set of on a pub-crawl searching for Irish music.

They heard guitars and fiddles coming from an upstairs window, so they climbed up the stairs and found themselves in a long room, crowded with drinkers, the air thick with cigarette smoke. Donna stood by the door as the others battled their way to the bar. The noise and heat was too much for Donna, so she found herself a perch on the next flight of stairs where she could breathe more easily and still hear the music.

She didn't notice the man from the library until he sat down beside her; pulling out a ball of silver foil from his pocket.

"You left your shells behind in the restaurant," he said, presenting her with a black bundle of washed mussel shells. "They'll go well with the ones you collected at Porthcurnic. I always think the black of mussel shells sets off the colours in Cornish stones."

Donna was too shocked to refuse them as he placed them gently in her open palm.

"How did you know?" Donna could not understand how he knew she'd wanted to take them with her at the end of their meal, but had been too embarrassed to put them in her pocket in front of the other girls.

The man laughed and his face took on a new warmth, dispersing the cold fear he had projected before.

"You sat looking at them all night, yet could not pluck up the courage to ask that they be saved. I merely saw where you envisaged their place in your stone garden." "Your father is a fine craftsman, " he added as an afterthought.

Donna could only nod allowing a trace of a smile to cross her face as she thought of the beautiful yew bowl her father had made her as a home for her Cornish stones and shells. How this man could read her mind and her memories, she could not tell, but he did not frighten her as he had in the library.

"Do you turn wood?" she asked, looking at his long, slender fingers as they lay together on the dark cloth of his trousers.

"Not in this life, " he replied, "although I remember watching Sheraton and Chippendale while they created some furniture for me. They were masters of their art."

"You have memories of your past lives?" Donna was curious.

"I remember them all, since I was awakened." His voice was deep as if drenched with time.

"How did you achieve it - remembering your past lives? Did you use hypnosis or regression?"

"Neither. When the time was right, I awoke. I am one of The People, what you would call vampyre."

"Oh." Donna didn't know quite how to respond.

"You must be thinking now is the time to have me locked up," his dark eyes mocked her.She noticed how his heavy eyebrows matched the dark brown of his thick hair. Donna shook her head. As a mental health worker, she had her fair share of clients who believed they were Christ personified or Indian Chiefs, so the thought of a vampire did not unduly worry her.

"How long have you been like this?" she asked.

"I saw the Vikings raid many times. The scribe who loved the gold leaf in the Book of Kells was my friend for many years. Of course my efforts could never compare with his genius, but I can still see traces of my suggestions in his work."

"It must be a great comfort to you, to be able to visit it whenever you wish."

"Sometimes." He got up suddenly, his movements agitated. "Forgive me, I find it difficult to concentrate. I have not fed for a long time."

"Did you want to go and find something?"

The man laughed, his amusement genuine. "I did not mean that kind of food."

"Oh?"

"I was referring to_..blood."

Donna felt very calm. If he really believed that he was a vampire, he must have considerable practical difficulties with daily living.

"Do you have to feed often?" she asked politely.

"Not often now. Of course when I was younger and coming in to my powers, I needed it regularly, but now I can go for months, sometimes years, between feeds."

"Can you make use of any blood products?"

"No!" his tone was scornful. "There is no energy in dead blood. It must be living."

"That must cause problems."

He nodded his head slightly as if acknowledging her understanding of his plight. "Of course, I could take someone in a fight, but that is not my way. It must be freely given, a gift. I always try to make it a pleasurable experience."

"But aren't you worried about infection?"

"Not at all! The properties in my blood would force out any impurities as soon as it entered my system. Being vampyre has its uses. Our bodies heal very fast. I have broken my spine and recovered within a few weeks."

"Can you heal others?"

His face became thoughtful. "Yes, I have done that, but it takes more energy. Do not believe everything you have heard about us, vampyres have much compassion."

"I'm sure they do." Donna got up. The time had come to end the conversation before it went any further. "My friends will be wondering where I am."

"They have gone on." The man's face was devoid of expression, his eyes black pools of certainty. "You told them you were feeling tired, that you would find your own way back to the hotel." Donna looked at him wildly, aware once more of the scent of nutmeg and cinnamon all around her. She searched in vain amongst the customers in the bar. Her friends were not there.

He stood waiting for her by the door. "I have a carriage, unless you would rather walk."

Donna shook her head. "You must be mad! You don't want me! I can't give you anything. You take blood from me and all you'll get is a death sentence!"

He took her gently by the arm and guided her down the stairs. "You have not been listening. You have something I need and in return I shall awaken you to your former lives. Do you think I would not recognise you, Donna-Marie? It is time."

As he touched her, the noises of the Dublin night grew strangely quiet. A blanket of fog covered the whole city, leaving the two of them alone. The red carriage was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Donna wanted to protest, but instead she let him help her in as if she were a grand lady with a beautiful gown. She watched him as they glided along the cobbled streets. Something about him seemed familiar; a name hovered at the back of her mind. As much as she knew she should fear him, she could not.

He took her back to her hotel room and on the hard, unforgiving bed, he laid her down. Gently he removed her clothes and ran his sensitive fingers along every inch of her skin. In every way, he was a kind and considerate lover, raising a fire in her she had not felt for many years. She could not mind when he took from her what he needed; the prick of his fangs merely pushing her over the edge of delight. Nothing mattered to her since the day when Nick's legacy of HIV developed into full-blown AIDS. If there was something she could still give to someone else in the short time she had left in this world, then she was glad.

Afterwards, he stayed with her until dawn threatened to break across the sky. She wept, missing the warmth of his embrace, but fatigue overtook her and she slept until Karen's knocking woke her. It was time to leave Dublin, with all its mysteries and return to the real world.

"You look well, " the doctor greeted her as he took her regular blood test a few weeks later. "Your little holiday must have done you good."

"Yes, I do feel a lot better," she admitted.

She was eating her lunchtime sandwich in the park when her mobile rang.

"You're not going to believe this!" the doctor's excited voice echoed in her ear. "Your T-cell count is back to normal. I've checked and double-checked. It's a miracle!"

"Thank you for letting me know."

Not that I didn't know already, Donna thought to herself, shielding her eyes from the glorious autumn colours around her. She could remember now when this park was first laid out. The head gardener arguing fiercely with the land agent, who wanted to reduce the size of the public area bequeathed in the dowager's will. She'd laughed at them in her shadow form, wondering how long it would be before she would walk the world again and remember. Now, she was back.

Donna got up from the bench and dropped her empty sandwich bag in the bin. She caught her hand on a stray briar and drops of blood welled up on her skin. She sucked the drops off carefully, savouring the taste of the clean blood on her tongue. She felt her incisors tingle with anticipation; knowing she would need to feed soon. She watched people enjoying the sunshine around her and wondered who amongst them would be willing to offer her the blood gift she required.

Ygraine
Ygraine
60 Followers
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6 Comments
lookbob66lookbob66over 3 years ago
Way the hell too short

Also, as a personal preference, I really feel that authors should not include spoilers in their description. Good original work.

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 14 years ago
Unique story

This story was enjoyable, imaginative, and well paced. You could start the story at the bacon sandwich, everything before that feels like warm-up and isn't needed. The characters were believable and I felt as if I were seeing rather than reading.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 17 years ago
Hauntingly lovely

This is one story I'll come back to over time and time again. It has a surreal effect shroud it, and it elludes all sense of time. Thank you for reawakening her vigor and spirit, her esscense. Let me see what mark on the passing world she will leave. Let them be renuited once more and have them meet frequently in their escapades. A lovely pairing, and gift of dark death along with it. By Mystery_to_Myself. I have yet to write, I find myself distracted with all the wonderful literature.

AnonymousAnonymousover 18 years ago
very loving

very loving, very well written tale

nice to see that particular illness

given a new and happy ending

Alan xxx

AnonymousAnonymousabout 19 years ago
Very Soft and Tender..yet poignant as well..

Your story was soft, yet poignant. Even though this story was about a woman eventually turning into a vampyre, it was very softly done...sensual yet not overly done...I enjoyed it.

_Lady1SensuaL1Fire_

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