Requiem on Water [Book I]

Chapter 1

Death gives us sleep, eternal youth, and immortality.
-Jean Paul 

 

Chapter 1

He sat at her side as he watched her with inquisitive, black eyes. She was still in transition, but he was mesmerized at how effortlessly her ailing, human body was accepting the change. She lay as still as a corpse as her new blood developed in her veins; only occasionally would she stir and mumble incoherently about rough winds and still waters. He could hear her heartbeat alter. It wasn't as weak and soundless as her human heart had been. Her new heart was strong, but beat more slowly than her human heart had. He lay his palm over his chest and felt the rhythm of his heartbeat. Their heartbeats pounded in concord.

He stroked her cheek with the upside of his hand, causing her to let out a moan, but not one of pain. The connection quivered within her, he knew this because he felt it too. She responded to his touch even when she was oblivious to her surroundings. Her hair was growing back leisurely. At first he'd not been sure whether her hair would regain its length, but it had. It caressed her sweet, pale face and fell in long, blonde strands over her torso.

Erratically her body would go rigid, because her human muscles had been feeble. She was experiencing some pain as her human muscles strengthened, transforming into her new steel-like muscles. She was going to be strong, because she had only been in transition for a few days and already she seemed more Immortale than human. It was evident that she also looked more alive than she had as a human; the cancer was diminishing as the transformation ensued. He would never have done this to her if he had another choice, but he had been too selfish too watch her perish; he had been too self-seeking to let her go.

"Black eyes," she mumbled in her unconscious state. Horror shot through him, because even though he had known her, even though he had loved her when she had been human, she did not know or love him. "So beautiful," she added as an afterthought. He relaxed at her words, assured that his eyes hadn't frightened her.

There was a probability that she would not remember anything about her human life, but the transition affected each individual differently. He remembered his transition and how petrified he had been. He didn't want Alice to experience his torment; he didn't want her to remember her human life. It was a selfish desire but to him she was too beautiful to be poignant. He remembered her misery as a human and it caused the muscles around his heart to constrict. He was not going to let her be miserable any longer.

A soft knock came at the door, and even before he called for her to come in, he had known who it was. It was his creator, the person who had made him live this life of immortality. She entered the murky basement and watched him unhappily; she knew she had no claim on him anymore because he had created his own, and she was left to find her new own. She put a hand on his shoulder as he sat next to Alice, still stroking her cheek.

"She seems fit to be yours," she said, but the sorrow and pain echoed in her voice. She loved him, in spite of the resentment he candidly expressed towards her.

"She is perfect to be mine," he uttered, annoyance evident in his voice.

She sat down in the armchair a few feet away and not once did her eyes leave the transforming Alice. She envied her for being his; she might even have hated her for making him smile when in all the years she had spent with him, he had been wretched even in their most joyous times.

"Will you love me still?" she asked, after a long stretch of silence. He didn't answer at first; he didn't even turn to look her way.

"I never loved you Anastasia," he whispered and he heard the soft moan in her chest, "not like that."