shadows and stones - an original fiction series of gothic, horror, dark fantasy

I watch the glowing red numbers on my clock tick off the passing minutes. 11:57. 11:58. 11:59. 12:00. Midnight. It is now November 17th.

A year ago today my Mama died. She didn’t die alone; her sister, Marcia, was with her when a drunk smashed into their car. Since that time I’ve led a pretty insular life in my half-brother’s English country home. Most of the insularity is by choice. This year has been a hard one on me, with a lot of adjustments above and beyond dealing with Mama’s death. Socializing hasn’t been a number one priority. Then again, there aren’t many people in my age group living around here.

In point of fact, there is only one. I’m not sure if you can consider the decapitated head of a vampire as living – even if he does speak. Still, a friend is a friend. Despite the seeming differences, we really have a lot in common; both of us have been unwillingly separated from our family, both of us have had these changes forced on us by others, and both of us are no longer human. Though I know it annoys my brother, Rath, I spend a lot of time talking with Iain, the vampire. Iain listens well, and helps me keep from falling into despair over losing Mama, while I keep him from slipping into madness from the loss of his body and humanity.

Today is a special day, though, and I’ve made a decision. While I may not always be thankful that Rath pushed me into becoming the immortal shapeshifter I now am, at least I have freedom to enjoy life, freedom to do as I wish. Iain was not only unwillingly made a vampire, he was tricked into invading our home by a promise to return his humanity. Now he is not only a vampire, but a prisoner here, unable to make the most basic choices in life.

I’m going to give him those choices again.

The house is silent as I make my way down the hall to the main stairs. This being the first rain free night in a week, Rath had announced to me earlier his intent to go “prowling” in the woods. He often explores in animal form at night, and frequently I go with him; but not tonight. Tonight I declined his offer. Knowing what today signifies, he didn’t try to persuade me. An hour ago, he left. The only other residents here, our sister Hannah and her nurse, are asleep by now, so I’m comfortably certain I have the place to myself. The timing is perfect.

Moonlight shines through a few uncurtained windows, providing my only illumination as I head for Rath’s office. I’ve grown used to navigating the house in the darkness, so I’m not bothered by the lack of light. Once I reach the office, however, I do use a flashlight. If I shaped myself feline eyes, I could see most areas of the house as though they were fully lit, but my goal is the cellar. Down there the darkness is absolute, and even with cat eyes I have difficulties. Of course, I could light the medieval torches which line the cellar stairs, but they are a pain to deal with. With my flashlight, I descend quickly.

Dust covers the cellar’s stone floor, but a few paths lead into the darkness beyond my flashlight. I follow the most distinct path, which takes me to the room where Rath stores his collection of heads. In the center of the room is a large stone sarcophagus – the box containing Iain’s head sits on top of it. All the other head boxes are stored on long shelves lining the walls. It is a testament of Rath’s restraint, or perhaps respect, that he has allowed me to make an exception with Iain. I tap the box’s side to let Iain know I am there.

“It’s going to be a bit bumpy. I’m moving you. Be patient.” With steady hands I lift his box, being careful to keep it level as I walk. With the exception of a few bad spots on the cellar stairs, I’m able to navigate the house without shaking Iain too much.

Once more in my rooms, I set the box on my coffee table. Sitting here, Iain and I will be near enough to the fireplace for me to enjoy the warmth, but far enough away for him to be comfortable; Iain doesn’t much care for fire. One touch on the right spot causes the box to pop open, falling apart like a puzzle.

“Hello, lass. A smooth ride all the way,” Iain grins. His continued cheerfulness in the face of the horror his life has become never fails to amaze me. In equivalent circumstances, I have not been so strong.

“Hi, Iain.” Before he can ask, I explain the relocation. “We’re in my sitting room. I wanted to talk in private.”

“Lass, your brother never interrupts us in the cellar. And I don’t think any of the other heads down there can hear us through their boxes.”

“I’d worry if they did, since, with the exception of you and Simon, they are all definitely dead.” I hate being reminded of the other heads, especially the other vampire, Simon. “It’s more comfortable up here. I always feel like there is something watching me down there.”

Unable to nod, Iain grins again to acknowledge my point. After arranging him so he is relatively comfortable, I seat myself on the floor, leaning against a chair for support. I could sit in the chair, of course, but that would leave Iain having to turn his eyes awkwardly to see me as we talk.

“Iain, you know those vampires who sent you here were probably lying when they said they could make you human again.”

“Aye.”

“And as a vampire, you can’t die from just beheading, which means you could be trapped in this box forever, or until Rath decides to do something with you.”

“Aye, lass, that thought had crossed my mind on a number of occasions.”

“What if there was another option?”

I wait anxiously for his reply. At first it looks as though he isn’t going to answer. Questions are building in his eyes, yet he doesn’t voice any of them. Then his expression changes unexpectedly to one of pain.

“Don’t tease me, Eva.” His tone is sharp.

“I’m not!” I’m shocked by his words. Does he really believe I would be so cruel?

“What are you thinking then, lass?” he asks suspiciously.

“Look, it’s wrong for you to be trapped here like this. If you’d been given a choice in the beginning, if the vampires hadn’t tricked you into coming after Simon’s head, then you would never have gotten into trouble. Rath would never have decapitated you.” Iain doesn’t respond, so I continue. “You don’t deserve to be this way forever.”

Rising to my knees, I move closer to his face. “Iain, I’m offering you a choice of escapes. Either I’ll help you get your body back so you can leave this place, or …” I pause. This is the hard part, but to be truly fair I must give him this option. “Or you can choose to die. Whichever you want, I’ll do it for you.”

If Iain still had his body, I think he would fall over in shock. His eyes go as wide as they possibly can and his mouth drops. Even though the clock in the room is a digital one, I swear I can hear the seconds ticking away as he stares at me unblinking.

“Are you serious?” He finally gasps.

“Never more so.”

“You’d kill me?” Oh, God, I pray silently, please don’t let him choose that.

“Only if you asked me to.”

Iain closes his eyes. It’s the only means he has to shut himself away, though he has only to ask and I will leave the room. Since he doesn’t, I stay, respecting his silence by watching the pattern of flames in the fireplace beside me. How long we are like this, I have no idea. My senses, though, are so finely tuned I hear clearly the slight movement of Iain’s eyelids lifting. Looking back to him, I hold my breath, afraid, yet eager, to know what he has decided.

“I don’t want to die.”

“Then you won’t.” Thank you, God.

“I don’t want to be a vampire forever, either.”

“One problem at a time, Iain. Let’s get your body back first.” Suddenly I feel light, as though I were in bird form flying through clouds. I want to scream and run and shout my joy throughout the house. I want to wake the entire village to tell them what we are going to do, yet I know I have to keep this a secret. Vampires are creatures to be destroyed, not rescued.

“Oh, Iain, if you had a body right now I’d hug you.”

“Well, you still could,” he says, with that crooked grin.

Iain’s right. It isn’t as though I’m squeamish about handling him. Gently I lift him from the table, leaning him upon my shoulder. If he did have his body, and we embraced, it’s where his head would have rested. This is the first time I’ve held him so close to my face. His hair falls against my cheek, the long locks feeling so much softer than I’d imagined. There is a smell clinging to him like that of wood warmed in the sun. I hold him until he speaks again.

“What about your brother, Eva? He’ll not like what you’re planning.”

“I don’t care.” Carefully, I place Iain back on the table.

“Aye, Eva, and be sure I’m not finding fault with your decision, but technically I’m not yours to deal with. It was Rath who did this, and it’s he who should be the one to end it.”

“What do you want, Iain?” I shout, angry because I know he is right, though I don’t want to admit it. “Do you really want me to be all honorable about who should decide your fate? That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Once more I face him eye to eye. “Iain, Rath won’t care what happens to you. No more than he cares about any of the other heads in the boxes down there. The only one that means a thing to him is the vampire Simon’s. You’re just an extra, someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” With the base of my palm I smear away tears which are building in my eyes. “I’m not putting you down in that basement again, and I’m not letting you live through eternity as a head in a box. If Rath doesn’t like it, you can be certain he’ll come and tell me. And I’ll deal with him.”

“I’m sorry, Eva, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He sounds so genuinely contrite I immediately regret my anger.

“No, I’m the one who is sorry, Iain. You’re point was a good one, but it’s my problem, not yours.”

“So, where do you plan on starting this then?”

“I already have.” Happy to change the subject, I run to retrieve a notebook from the writing desk in my bedroom. Before returning, I glance out the window. From the dark tones of the night sky, I can tell we still have a few hours before dawn. Back at the table, I rearrange Iain so we can both read my notes.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I already did some research. Rath’s library has a large selection of vampire books: fact and fiction.” I grin at Iain and he grins back, we both know my brother buys the books, then reads them to Simon: a form of literary torture. “There isn’t a lot in the factual books, mostly because the references stop at the point where they’ve debunked your existence, but the fiction is loaded with possibilities.

“All of the books seem to agree that if you can get together the parts of the vampire, remove any stakes, garlic, silver bullets, etc…and douse the whole thing in lots of blood, you’ll end up with an intact vampire. The trick for us will be finding out what Rath did with the ashes of your body.”

“Do you think he even kept them, lass?”

“God, Iain, you saw the house; Rath is a pack rat. I don’t think he’s thrown anything away for centuries – not if he thought he could use it one day. Who knows what he might be able to do with vampire ashes?”

“Oh, great, he’s using bits of my body to cast spells, no doubt. Probably putting curses on the others in that worthless pack of bloodsuckers.”

“At least it would be going for a good cause.” I really need to think before I talk. Iain looks horrified at the possibility being true. “Oh, Iain, chill. Rath is a shapeshifter, not a warlock or wizard or something. He probably put your ashes in a bag and stuffed it in a corner somewhere. I’ll find them.”

“How?”

“Well, I’ve tossed around a couple of ideas, but I think I’ll do it as a bloodhound. They are your ashes, so a little of your scent must be on them. I’ll just browse around all the likely places first and work my way to the unlikely ones. It’s a big house, though, so don’t be surprised if it takes me a while.”

“I won’t.” There is so much trust in his expression I feel a pang of guilt. What if I’m wrong, and the ashes are gone? The thought makes my stomach clench. I focus on Iain’s words to bury my doubts.

“What would you be planning to do with me in the meantime?” he asks.

“You aren’t going back to the cellar, that’s for sure.” Maybe it is the memory of when Rath destroyed Iain, or maybe it’s just the atmosphere, but something in the cellar room gives me the chills whenever I go there. “Check this out.”

Rising, I pick Iain up to show him his new home. The walls in this room are paneled in square sections of dark wood. Each section’s edges are raised about two inches from the wall’s surface. Not long ago I was trying to hang a picture without damaging the wood when a piece of edging moved under my hand. It popped a hidden latch, causing a nearby panel to swing open. The space inside must have been used as hiding place for small valuables or jewels. Whatever the original purpose was, the minute I saw it I knew it would be the perfect place for Iain to rest in comfort.

“See,” I pop the latch, letting the panel fly open. “You’ll be perfectly safe in here. The sitting room doesn’t have windows, and if some sunlight reaches in from my bedroom it will never get through the paneling.” Gently I set him inside and close the door. After a few seconds I open it again.

“What do you think?”

“Tight as a drum, Eva. And much better than a box, even the nice one you gave me last year.”

“I thought so. If you want, I can even put a radio in here for you, or a walkman with cassettes.”

“Thank you, lass. For now I think I’ll rest in silence.” Slowly he yawns. “Dawn must be nearing, I’m getting that tired feeling. You’d best just close me in for the day.”

“Sleep well, Iain.” Impulsively I give him a light kiss on the forehead; his skin is cold and dry against my lips. “Til tomorrow night.”

“G’morning, lass.”

With Iain safely closed up for the day, I need to get his box out of my room. Quickly I fold it together, sealing it tightly, as though he were still inside. Through the window at the end of the hall, I can see the horizon becoming pink. Rath will be returning soon. Racing down the stairs, I reach the cellar room in record time. A clean square space on the dusty sarcophagus shows me exactly where the box had been standing. I replace it precisely, then leave in haste.

In the year since I moved Iain into his own box, I know Rath had never disturbed him. I don’t see any reason why he would do it now and so long as he doesn’t he’ll never know the box is empty. Sooner or later Rath will find out, but I’ll put off the confrontation for as long as I possibly can.

Halfway up the main staircase, on my way back to my room, I hear Rath returning through the front door. I give a quick prayer of thanks – a few minutes earlier and I would have been caught in the cellar.

Stopping at the hallway window, I gaze at the skyline: dawn is spreading quickly across the countryside. It’s now the morning of November 17th. A year ago my Mama died. Nothing I can do will bring her back. No shape I can take will allow me to see her face again, but for the sake of her memory I will bring Iain back to life if I can. As the sun finally breaks above the horizon, I swear I can see Mama smiling approval in the colors of the sky.

Continue to part ii: supplication

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episode i: journey into darkness - episode ii: tea party - episode iii: awakening
episode iv: the book of grief - episode v: paterfamilias - episode vi: breaking points
episode vii: the dark of the mind - episode viii: decisions
episode ix: momentary distractions - episode x: exorcising demons i
episode xi: porcelain visions - episode xii: the nature of jackals
episode xiii: exorcising demons ii - episode xiv: the invitation
episode xv: body & soul - episode xvi: mothering sunday
episode xvii: imbalance of power - episode xviii: interlude
episode xix: between life and death

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