• Chapter IV: part 3


    WHEN I got back to the kitchen, Vincent was no where to be found. “Vincent?”

    “Yeah?” he called from the front entrance. I walked into the living room and saw Vincent peaking outside through the curtains.

    “At least it's nice out today,” I said as I stood next to him.
    “It is.” He looked to the outside like one would look to a lost lover, and I immediately felt guilty for bringing up the sunlight.

    “Oh yeah. Vampire.”
    He laughed without humor and closed the curtains as I began to nervously pick at the bottom hem of my t-shirt.

    “So. What does happen if you're exposed to the sun?”
    He breathed deeply and leaned against the wall, a distant grin disguised among his morose expression. “Well we don't turn to dust like most people think. Not immediately anyways. It's not so much a spontaneous combustion as it is an allergic reaction. We can be exposed to the sun for about five minutes. Anymore than that is dangerous. And ten is deadly.”

    “I see. But you can block yourself from the sun right? And on cloudy days...”
    “Yes we can cover ourselves, hence, the hat and leather jacket. But no, cloudy days are still deadly. It's not really the sun we're allergic to. It's the ultraviolet rays.”

    I snorted. “So I guess the tanning bed is out.”
    Vincent laughed despite himself and placed his hat gracefully on his head. “Yes...the tanning bed is definitely out.”



    I WAS surprised to see that Vincent drove a black Lexus RX. For some reason, I always pictured him driving something more vintage, considering—“Hey Vincent?” I asked curiously as I opened the car door, leaving it ajar.

    “Yeah?”
    “How old are you exactly?”

    Without immediate reply, he shifted his gaze slightly above my head and kept it there a few awkward moments as if he were thinking of a good way to answer the question. Ignoring me as if I'd never asked, he placed himself in the driver's seat and started up the car.

    “Um, Vincent?” I asked persistently, jumping into the SUV.
    He sighed, obvious annoyance written in the expression on his face. He took his foot off the gas peddle and leaned back in his seat with an irritated gesture. “I was turned in 1867. I was nineteen.” I actually thought he'd be older for some reason, but looking at his wardrobe, the dates seemed appropriate. Actually hearing his birth date for the first time, though, was quite shocking and a bit unbelievable. I did the math in my head.

    “So you’re 142?”
    “A hundred and forty-two as a vampire, yeah,” he said without interest. “But I've aged to be about 21 in human years.” My eyebrows pulled together, and I looked crookedly at him.

    “So you're not immortal?”
    “No. Our blood simply allows us to age much slower. Those born Pure age even slower than those Turned.”

    My mind was completely overwhelmed by the mass amount of information I'd learned from the time I woke up to now, and I realized that there was still a lot I wanted to know...about him. About his life. But despite the docile expression on his face, the mood emanating from Vincent at the moment was very peculiar and slightly more hostile than I'd intended, so I decided to change the subject.

    “Where are we going anyways?”
    “Chicago,” he said.
    “Chicago?” I shouted vehemently. “I can't go to Chicago!”
    “Why not?”

    I threw my hands up as if I was balancing two invisible objects. “Uh, hello! Chicago is all the way in Illinois! That's almost a five and half hour drive! In case you didn't know, I'm only 18.”

    With a sideways glance, he asked, “Are you sure about that?”
    The color drained from my face like wet pain would drip off a canvas , and it felt as if someone had taken my stomach and ringed it out like a damp towel.

    “What is that supposed to mean?” I asked wide-eyed.
    He smiled ominously as he began driving slowly away from the house. “I mean exactly what I said. How do you know you're only 18?”

    I swallowed against the huge knot that was now forming in my throat. I was half angel. Maybe that meant that I aged differently. Maybe after I'd lost my memory someone tampered with my birth certificate, too. Maybe that was why I barely aged a bit since fifteen. I narrowed my eyes at Vincent suspiciously.

    “Vincent, why are you here?”
    His face froze in a stern countenance, his lips pursed stubbornly. For a moment, my resolve wavered, but I wasn't about to let him get away with ignoring me.

    “I asked you a question.”
    He gripped the steering wheel tightly enough to turn his knuckles a translucent ivory, and he spared one quick sideways glance. His voice strained, he said, “Remember when I told you it was a long story?”

    I thought back to when he first revealed his serrated teeth, and my heart skipped a beat. “Yeah,” I said unevenly.

    Vincent winced and looked distractedly through the rear-view mirror. “Well—it is.”
    I nodded, understanding that what he was going to tell me would probably be the most overwhelming bit of information I'd ever been told, but, “We have all day.”

    The corner of his mouth twitched a bit, the only sign that I hadn't lost him completely. “Okay. You know the story of The Great Flood, right?”

    “The one with Noah?”
    “Yeah.”

    “Sure. I mean I know as much as I was taught in church.” I wasn't quite catching on to his point. What did The Great Flood have anything to do with why he was here?

    “But did you know that the Nephilim are to blame?”
    Words seemed impossible to form. I just sat there staring ahead, my lips slightly parted.

    “I didn't think so. Well,” he continued without waiting for a reply. “After the Angels bore children with the Daughters of Man, their children became somewhat…ill-natured.”

    “Ill-natured,” I repeated curiously. Vincent glanced at me sideways and nodded.
    “Yes. They were taller than humans. Stronger. Faster. They had abilities that others didn't. So they used these abilities to cause all sorts of havoc. And not only that, but some of them spread their blood to other men and women. It got to the point where they had tainted so much blood, that God prophesied a flood that would wipe out all life on earth.”

    “All except Noah and, you know, the animals. Right?”
    Although I failed to find the connection with my story, it was beginning to get interesting, and the anticipation of what would happen was keeping me on the edge of my seat. Not only that, but Vincent is an amazing story teller. Every word he spoke formed a vivid image in my mind as if it were all happening right in the vehicle with us.

    “Wrong,” he grinned. I looked at him crookedly. Never before had I heard any other telling of The Great Flood story. “Not all the Nephilim were to blame. Some remained loyal to God. They kept their promise to sustain a pure bloodline. Some think it was in order to repent for what the Angels did.”

    “Wait,” I interrupted. “Are you telling me that they inbred?” There was more disgust in my voice than I'd intended.

    “Yeah,” he said in a way that implied obviousness and shot me an incredulous look: duh! “How else could mankind be formed? There had to be inbreeding. Back then it wasn't that looked down upon. And even now, in the Otherworld, it's acceptable in order to maintain a pure line.”

    My bottom lips puckered, and I decided to drop the subject. “Continue,” I said aloofly as I waved my hand.

    He rolled his eyes. “So, God allowed those who kept their blood amongst themselves to live. With one exception: to live apart from the Real world and the Other world. With only themselves. To never again step foot on earth's soil.”

    My eyes lowered shamefully to my hands that were now tying and invisible knot.
    Alone?

    It seemed so sad. Almost, pitiful. The image in my head was no longer full of excitement and adventure. It became a story overwrought with intense sadness and loneliness.

    Now I know why they were called The Forgotten. I thought about what it must have been like to have to leave your home forever, and never be allowed to return.

    Noticing my downcast mood, Vincent added with a lighter note, “It wasn't such a bad thing, you know.”

    I looked toward him slowly, a hopeful gleam in my eye. “It wasn't?”
    “Nope. I mean, I've never seen Atlantis for myself, but from what I've heard of it, it's not such a terrible place to live. As a matter-of-fact, it's become the optimal place to live among Other-worlders.”

    For a second, I thought I wasn't going to get a word in. My mind was so jumbled by this point, it was difficult to form full sentences. “A-Atlantis? You mean there really is an Atlantis? It really exists?”

    “I just said it did, didn't I?” He shuffled in his seat uncomfortably and looked absently through his side-view mirror.

    The realization sent such a wave of excitement through my veins that if I'd jumped out the window right then, I might've believed I could fly.

    “Amazing,” I whispered to myself. I could see Atlantis now, a vision burning behind my
    lids. Tall, extravagant buildings towered over the city, glistening streams of water sparkled like diamonds under the sun and fell as waterfalls from layer after layer of the city. It was like something straight out of a fairy-tale.

    And as if he could read my thoughts, “But unfortunately, there is no happy ending.”
    I was so surprised by his statement that I nearly jumped right out of my seat belt. “Can you read minds or something?” I asked remembering that that wasn't the only time he'd continued what I was thinking.

    “What?” he asked surprised. “No! Of course not!” Taking his eyes of the road he quickly scrutinized my face and returned his gaze to the road with an abrupt laugh. “But judging by the look on your face, I must have hit the nail right on the head.” Vincent laughed once more and shook his head. “You know, I can read you like book.”

    I made a small noise of annoyance and sunk down into my seat. “That easily, huh?”
    He nodded once, his lip turned up slightly into a crooked smile.
    “So what do you mean? Why wasn't there a happy ending?”

    And as if someone had pulled the breaks on a bus, his smile was gone, returned to the same hard line. A sinking feeling formed in my gut, almost a guilty feeling. I much preferred Vincent smiling and joking over Vincent stern and cold.

    Still, he didn't answer immediately, and I decided not to press on. Instead, I kept my gaze fixed upon the empty corn field we were passing. The blur of fields turned to a blur trees. The blur of trees turned to a blur of houses. And then—

    “The order.”
    “What?” I'd heard very well what he said, but I wanted him to repeat it anyways.
    But instead of repeating The order, he continued, “After the Great Flood, there were several wars among races of the Other world. When things finally got out of hand, a peace treaty was made among some of the larger Kingdoms. This government became known as the Order.” He nearly spat the word. “A hierarchy of wealth and power.” His head shook slowly side to side, and he paused as if thinking something to himself. “But it's essential, nonetheless. Without the Order, there can't be peace between the Kingdoms.”

    So the Order was the central government for the Other world, but I wasn't sure if Vincent was a fan or not. “So, what exactly went wrong?”

    “The Council consists of a representative from each Kingdom involved in the Order. They're the highest ranking class with utmost say over laws and such. Initially the Order was intended to be a democracy. They're supposed to communicate amongst each other, laws that must be upheld and so forth. But with great power, comes great hunger for more. The Council began to demand that every Kingdom be united with the Order. And if they didn't agree, then they'd take their land and their Kingdom by force. Many of the Kingdoms they took over weren't even allowed a representative in the Council.” He breathed a fury breath and continued.

    “The Nephilim. Remember how I told you they were forced to remain separated from the outside world forever?”

    I nodded without emotion.
    “Well, the Council didn't like that. They accused the Nephilim of thinking themselves above the law. Above the Other world. Basically above the Council.” His lips twisted with disgust, and I wasn't sure if the hostility was toward the Council or the Nephilim. There was no way I was going to interrupt to find out. “The Nephilim had become a very solitary race, and although they were a passive race, they weren't against fighting the Council in order to keep their promise to stay isolated. Until—” Vincent choked on his words, and when I looked over at him, even he had a look of surprise on his face. Like he'd just remembered something he'd worked so hard to forget.

    “Until what,” I asked, the thought of stopping unbearable.
    Vincent shook his head quickly and continued as if he'd just woken up from a daze. “Until she came along.”

    “Who's she?” I asked furtively. He glanced over at me with a rueful and almost apologetic look in his eyes.

    “Your mother.”
    A tingling sensation swept over my entire body as if I'd just been outside in the snow for hours and immediately went inside by the fire. I wasn't even aware of my hands trembling until Vincent glanced discerningly at them.

    “Kida?”
    “My mother—” I croaked. My throat had become so dry that it hurt to speak, and my mouth tasted like cotton. I cleared my throat. “My mother. What did she do? You said 'until she came along.' What do you mean by that?”

    I looked over toward him to see him chewing the inside of his cheeks, an uncomfortable look on his face, but it was soft in the most peculiar way.

    “Celeste. That was her name.”
    Celeste. The name reverberated inside my memory like a shout from atop the highest of mountains. But my mind couldn't form a picture. It was like trying to make out the image on a fuzzy television. No matter how long I stare at it, all I get is a headache.

    “Well,” Vincent continued, albeit reluctantly. “She convinced the Nephilim to join the Order. She said that they'd spent enough time repenting in Atlantis, and that as long as they keep their bloodline pure, there should be no problem with them leaving.” There was an underlying desperation in his voice that caught me a bit off guard.

    “Of course they agreed. You're mother. She was a strong figure in the Nephilim Kingdom. They all looked up to her and…your father.” It was then that I realized something.

    “My father,” I began slowly. “I-I don't seem to remember him at all. My mother's name triggered all kinds of emotion and remembrance. But—”

    “You're father died before you were born,” he said almost sternly, with absolutely no repentance. He might as well have wrapped his cold hands around my throat and squeezed as hard as he could. I couldn't even think of anything to say to that. But then I suddenly thought about my dream, and the man who so passionately embraced my mother.

    “Are you absolutely sure?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “She never remarried or anything,” I persisted.
    “No,” he said with enough finality to get me off the subject.

    I pursed my lips at his lack of empathy. “Well, go on, then. You have yet to explain why you're here.” Again his grip tightened on the steering wheel.

    “Fine,” he said, with a hint of restrain in his voice. “Not long ago, things started going very wrong for the Order.” Vincent was now staring sightlessly out the windshield. “Important high ranking members kept turning up murdered. At first the Council blamed the Vampires. Not because they were drained of blood, but because of the mark found on their dead bodies.”

    “Mark?” I asked.
    He paused. A cold and inexorable look on his face. The air became so thick that I found it difficult to breath.

    And in a low, almost growling voice, he said, “The Mark of Cain.”

    Next Part[/url