ASHES TO ASHES: Chapter Two

I awoke, not that I am sure I even sleep, the following evening. A thick tarp covered my body. I had sensed Oliver Haddo enter before dawn to lay it over my form. I could not see him or hear him, not in any conventional sense. I just knew he had done this and was not surprised by it  when life (or is that unlife) returned to my limbs.

I took in a breath of air and let my new senses explore the room before removing the tarp. I could tell the magik circle was still intact, feeling the boundaries of my prison with out touch or sight. I reached out farther beyond the circle and sensed two men. I could tell they were men, from some scent they carried or other perception I had not had before. Two men and something else.

I listened and heard the beating of their hearts. Two strong rhythms of near equal speed and one weaker and slower. The scent of this other was unclean as if it belonged to something more primitive, unwashed and rural. My mind seemed to heighten itself as I realized an animal of some kind was in the room.

I removed the tarp in one motion and rose up still naked. A gasp arose from the new man in the room while there was silence from Oliver Haddo, his magicians robes replaced by a white cotton suit. It gave his appearance that of a polar bear, a lumbering dangerous beast from the northern parts of my home country.

I glanced at Oliver's guest. Surprisingly I felt not the least bit embarrassed despite my nakedness. He on the other hand was turning a pale shade of red and cast aside his eyes. His discomfort felt refreshing.

He wore a dark blue suit with a school badge on the breast pocket. He had thinning and wiry hair that matched his frame. I sensed his taste and found a flavour not to my liking. I next noticed a small goat trussed up and tied inside the circle. I glanced back at Oliver and found him once again in control of his fear.

"Good evening Henry or in your case is it good morning?" I continued to stare at him as he motioned towards the goat, "I have brought you breakfast.

I walked over to the trussed up animal and placed a hand on it's throat. There was nothing there. I sensed it's fear, discomfort at being tied but no differently than any man could. It was simply an animal in pain. With a quick twist of my wrist I broke it's neck and tossed it from the circle.

"Insufficient" I replied. When one doesn't need to breathe except to talk, you keep your words short.

"You don't expect me to feed you women every night do you? Paris only has so many whores."

"No, and I feel no need for it tonight. I feel..." I searched for the right word, "not empty."

"Fascinating." The wiry man had spoken. I moved towards him until I felt the resistance of the circles edge. The wiry man began to look nervous and he should have. Unlike the goat I could feel, taste him.

"Relax George, you should be able to see that the seals are still in place." Then Oliver to me, "Henry this is my colleague, George Mathers. George brought me the book we used to cast our spell the other night." I allowed myself to smile. Last night I tasted nothing but divine ego and personal triumph from Haddo after his magiks. Just now he had referred to it as "our spell". Perhaps his fear was not hidden so deep after all. "What can we get you tonight Henry?"

"My clothes, and I wish to leave." I made sure my statements were forceful and direct. Though I felt no fear or displeasure I still sensed something wrong with being held prisoner. As I have spoken of before, I don't feel anything, just emptiness, still there seemed to be something calling me. An urge to flee these men and resume my freedom. Call it the last bit of humanity clinging to my soul.

"I can give you your clothes Henry, but leaving, no that is still impossible." What Haddo began to say was finished by Mathers, " You see we don't know what your limits are. How powerful are you, can you survive sunlight, turn to mist, that sort of information." Then Haddo began again. He showed much emotion, all of it feigned. I know, I can tell. At least now.

"As far as we know Henry, right now you may be one of a kind, the only Vampyre in existence. We don't know enough about you to let you roam around on your own yet. I know your soul is adventurous and romantic." At that I realized they knew nothing. " But until we know more, well I think it...

"We think, " interjected Mathers, "it would be best if you allowed us to 'experiment' a bit more." I was trapped. Even the Devil won't create beings with-out a sense of survival. I relented.

"Fine, bring me clothes," and as a strange after-thought, "and my paints and canvas; I feel I may be here for a time."

"As you wish." and again betraying his bulk, Haddo turned gracefully and out the door. Mathers stood there, his hand on his chin, staring at me quizzically. I stared back, my eyes boring into his own. As if it was an epiphany I knew what he wished to ask.

"No," I replied to his thought unasked, "I don't care what has been done regarding Isabella." Mathers was shocked. His eyes widened and I could taste the surprise seasoned with fear with in him.

"But how?..", it went unfinished though even a fool knew what he found perplexing. I merely smiled, thinly and cruel, my eyes never leaving his own. The taste of the seasoning inside him became stronger. Mathers eyes grew blank as he averted his gaze and began to retreat out the door.

I don't know why, it gave me no pleasure, only more of what I could taste in that fool on the other side of that accursed circle but I laughed. A laugh to match the gaze and smile that had given him cause too flee from the room.

The clothes Haddo brought me that evening were not mine and from their scent I could tell they came from Mathers (who did not return that evening). Oliver Haddo explained that my paints and canvases would be fetched from the tiny room I had shared with Isabella in several nights and to compensate he tossed paper and charcoal to me as well as a novel by Dickens, 'Great Expectations'. I sensed, or rather tasted, a smug irony from his choice of titles.

It was these two 'gifts' that made me realize how truly different I had become.

The book, well what can I really say. I read it. For the very first time and it did nothing for me. As a critic, I appreciated it's style. The metaphors, descriptions of both event and places, grammar and composition were all excellent. I could recognize it for what it was, a masterful work. The story, characters and emotional issues, for these I felt nothing. It was an empty, hollow experience. I knew reading such things would be a waste of my time.

The charcoal and paper were the same. My sketches were flawless, the detail exact but there was no life or feeling in them. I sketched Haddo and though the likeness was good I could capture none of the power I felt several days earlier in the man. His eyes had none of the willfulness and his presence transferred not at all to the blank white space before my hand. The styling of his clothes though, for some odd reason, fascinated me.

At this I began to realize what a fool I had truly been.

The word says it all. Undead. Not dead and lifeless but neither am I alive. Animated but empty. Seeing, touching, tasting and sensing but never with any feeling. Undead.

Alive I had lived life as a fool. A fool perhaps but one such fool who could at least touch and be touched by those things and beings around him. The wisdom of undeath holds little comfort.

When my paints and canvases arrived I did not touch them. When I requested books they were invariably non-fiction. Facts and theories the only words that held my interest.

The 'experiments' of Oliver Haddo and George Mathers went on nightly. We began to understand the being I had become, though only Mathers found it terrifying. He was a weak fool and I could tell through more than taste alone Haddo's growing disdain for the man.

When we were able to ascertain that sunlight would indeed be fatal to me, its touch burning my flesh like white hot flame, they brought me a coffin. I refused its use for a week, for some reason preferring the tarp until one night I relented and on rising the following night tasted their discomfort on seeing me come forth from that simple box of wood.

I was stronger than a man being able to bend steel and shatter wood with my bare hands. Not only was my vision sharper, but I could see in pitch blackness. My sense of smell was so keen that I could identify individuals and it was assumed I could even track by scent like an evil beast of prey.

I could not turn into a bat nor could I command rats and lower animals but neither were they disturbed by my presence, at least no more so than they would have been by any other man. Also I could not turn to mist or control the elements and weather. This last revelation deeply disturbed Oliver Haddo.

Some discoveries though I kept to myself. It was not to be unfair to my 'hosts' but an event had led to my increased desire for survival and freedom. I decided on this course of deception with in the first week of my captivity.

Oliver, as I had come to call him not through any feelings of friendship but from familiarity, approached me one night not long after Mathers had taken fright of me and fled the room. Sitting in a great black oaken chair carved with mystik symbols he had since placed in my room he began his 'experiments'. "Henry my friend," fool I thought, "can you tell me what I am thinking?"

I gazed at him with a false look of ignorance on my visage. Oliver shook his finger at me in an arrogant and scolding manner. If not for the damnable magik circle I would have torn it off his hand. "Now let us not be this way my friend, we both know what you did to unease poor George when first you met."

"If I am truly your friend why not erase this circle and let me out of this room."

"Come now Henry." a thick obscene smile on his face. "You know that is for the time being impossible."

"Is it?" I countered. "Or is it that you prefer this control over me? Like a pet bird in a cage, it's wings clipped and tongue split for you too keep and play with at your leisure?"

Oliver Haddo reared up before me, rising like a great beast from his chair. His dark piercing eyes found mine locking us in together. He spoke slowly and puissiantly "Why don't you find out."

I stared into his eyes and began to force my way into his mind. I had since discovered that I could in fact glance into a man's thoughts but because both Oliver and Mathers rarely afforded much time for direct eye contact, I hadn't gleaned much. No matter, if he was willing and foolish enough to engage me this way I would rip into his mind and conquer what hidden thoughts he possessed.

There was no resistance at first. I saw how Oliver Haddo, George Mathers and others had come into conflict with other mystik sects in Europe. I heard the discussion that fell amongst them of using a vampyre as a weapon in this battle. A creature who could become their ultimate assassin. It was then that I felt Oliver's awareness of my presence in his mind. At that moment the resistance began.

I hurled myself at him with renewed effort, his eyes locked to mine. I heard his mind recite formulas and poetry, theory and theology in an effort to block my assault on his deeper thoughts. I sensed his body quake and tasted the sweat that formed on his fleshy bulk as he made the effort to brake the demonic stare that joined us. I held his gaze, increased my efforts as specks of sweat like blood broke out on my brow.

Oliver increased his resolve. His will was incredible, proving that his gargantuan ego was well deserved. I heard a thought form before he could enact on it. He was going to call for help from Mathers. I was out of time and would need to act fast.

I had a choice, either hold him fast, keeping his eyes locked to mine or push forth one last iron willed effort to steal from the corners of his soul his dark plans for me. I chose the latter.

Our gaze broke. Oliver fell back into his chair, breathing anxiously and covered in sweat. I collapsed in the circle, Isabella's blood creeping to the surface as perspiration in my pores. We both stayed like that for minutes, renewing our strength. I wiped my brow soiling my sleeve with the sweat like blood.

"Mathers!" cried Oliver. "George. Come now!" Oliver began composing himself, straightening his great black sorcerer's cloak. George Mathers rushed into the room to Oliver's side like a well trained dog or a love smitten boy to his first lady love. "Thank you old friend, now take me from this room."

Helping Oliver rise, Mathers kept his sight penitently towards the ground. Leaning his great frame on his friend Oliver began his unsteady exit from the room. Turning sideways so that they could both exit the doorway while Mathers supported him Oliver spoke to me. "Impressive Henry. Anyone less trained and weaker than I would have succumbed to your assault." and then to Mathers but undoubtedly for my ears as well, "In the future we will have too be more careful."

But it was too late.

In that last second I had glimpsed Oliver Haddo's mephistopholian plot. I would never leave here. The reason he had chosen me, a personage normally beneath his notice was I was expendable. I possessed neither fame nor wealth and had no ties to Oliver or his mystik order. I was indeed as they had indicated, an experiment. When they had learned what was needed, if I could not be bound like the Djinn in Aladdin's enchanted lamp, they would enter by day and throwing open the lid of my coffin, leave me to be consumed by the burning rays of the sun.

From that moment on I swore that I would control their 'experiments'. I would keep to myself those unnatural powers that could insure my survival and freedom.