Key to the Abyss
J. (Exegesis)

Author's Note: Okay second chapter. Reviews muchly appreciated folksies. Okay. Thanks a lot of doom and stuff and more stuff. Woo. Okay . . . next chapter is up. Read it . . . NOW! No, no, sorry I wasn't ready there . . . NOW! Okay! Let's go!

Chapter One - Monsters Under the Bed

Ah, she's sensed us. Sometimes she does, sometimes she doesn't, but this time, like most times, a shiver has gone up her spine, and she can feel unnatural eyes on her, watching her. She's sensed us. She knows we're here. But she'll never find us. Never, never in a million, a billion years will her mortal eyes ever set on us unless we allow them to. Ha ha. But she'll never live a million or a billion years, she's already twenty-three years through her maximum life span of a hundred and ten years. She has a weak heart, she won't live much past sixty. Ha ha, she won't live much past twenty-three once we've got what we wanted. Which is her blood.

Pretty Rose Pullman, you don't know what value the blood that runs through your veins possesses. You don't know of its power, you silly human. You silly, insignificant . . . not now, Tarach, not now, she's headed this way, and Sarra hasn't noticed. Sarra hasn't noticed Tarach; she's looking at something else, Tarach, what's she looking at, Tarach?

I looked closer, ignoring the human slowly edging towards the window below which we lay, following Sarra Jann's gaze to the far side of the room, to the roaring fire which made crackling sounds pleasant to any human's ear, but loathsome to the ears of us vampires. Us, the cursed underdogs of the mortal world, brought here unwillingly and brutally by two cuts in the neck and the blood of another vampire passed into the mortal. The fire we fear, the day we hate and yet long for.

* * * * * Flashback * * * * * *

My throat was jammed; my eyes were wide open and terrified, staring up at the figure above me, pulling his teeth out from my neck. He smiled at me softly, tauntingly, as my vision swam before my eyes, I couldn't even see what colour his skin was . . . despite it being so tantalisingly white to me later on. I was dying, I knew that much, I could feel myself turning colder, my skin coming up in goose bumps. Oh God, let it stop now . . . please . . .

"My name is Conor," the demon said, his eyes (or what I thought must have been his eyes) flashing excitedly, as if he delighted in seeing me writhing in agony, "and you must not be afraid. You must be very still, and drink. Do you understand, Fitzgerald?"

I gasped. How could this man from the Devil have known my name . . . ? . . . most possibly because the Devil had sent him to come and take me from the mortal realm and drag me down to Hell with him. But this demon had some other idea for me, and he would not tell me what it was until I acknowledged my understanding to him. Shakily, I nodded my head slightly and he smiled again, this Conor character.

"Very well. I will save you know. But I will not save your life but avert your death permanently." Conor said, and I did not understand this riddle in my current state, and it only occurred to me afterwards what he had meant, the horrible truth of his fancy figures of speech and metaphors, similes and fondness for alliteration and the English language (despite him being French) would all come to me in a way I would not be able to escape in an enigma-like code, a spider's web of confusion.

I was freezing now, and I could only see through the slits in my eyes. I did not have much time now. Through my four-millimetre viewscope I could see Conor make a gash in his own wrist, the blood spilling out in a vivid, beautiful red that I could see even in my condition. He moved towards me and took me in his arms, cradling me like a child. He held his wrist to my mouth and I tentatively licked at the blood around the wound. He became impatient and forced his wrist into my mouth.

"Drink, damn you!" he snarled, and I sucked on the open wound that would have any human screaming, and the blood poured around my tongue. I had only tasted this substance when I had cut my lip or my finger and sucked on it now, but this was not the blood I had tasted . . . this was pure and beautiful and radiant. I felt myself sinking into Conor's wrist and the source it entailed, and as my strength returned I grasped his arm with both hands like a cat, refusing to release him until his astonishing power thrust me off him.

I lay, sprawled and gasping at Conor's mercy, my hands in the shapes of claws on the ground, my legs sprung apart and my head jerking back agaist the outer wall of the house I was leaning against. Conor stood up and laughed cheerily at seeing me licking around my lips for the remaining traces of his blood. He staggered a little, perhaps I had taken too much from him, but I didn't care. I was ready to take more from him, or any other creature that possessed that fluid . . . that miracle.

I looked at my own wrist, and brought it up to my mouth to tear at it with my somewhat sharpened teeth but Conor darted forwards so fast I couldn't see him amongst my greatly increased sight. It was now as if I had never been on the verge of death for I was so full of life . . . or so I thought then. The truth be told, I was so full of death that I felt . . . alive.

Conor took my wrist in his hand and fingered the protruding vein with his long nail fondly, moving his eyes (which were a very dark, murky green that no human could wield that seemed to shoot right into the soul of whatever he looked at, even if it was a brick wall) to face mine. His face shimmered under the pale light of the moon, which seemed brighter to me and more beautiful than I ever could have imagined.

"You will drink again tonight," he promised me, "but first you must learn what you are, and what you can do . . . and what you cannot."

* * * * * * PRESENT * * * * * *

Sarra Jann rocked my shoulder slightly.

"Tarach," she whispered, "the human, she is aware of our presence. We should go."

I looked over to Rose Pullman, who was rubbing her shoulders with her hands as if she were cold, but it was a warm night so it was probably because she was getting shivers up her spine. I nodded to Sarra and we ducked down, letting our bodies drop the ten metres to the ground. We landed like cats, our knees bent and our hands positioned delicately, our finger pads spread onto the hard tarmac. Sarra picked herself up and helped me to my feet. She smiled softly at me. Sarra Jann only really smiled at me, a special, secret smile she used if she was pleased or focused or had heard an amusing joke, silly things like that.

She was especially fond of little things and watched the actions of humans in noctural hours with more fascination than I had ever seen in a vampire. It was evident that out of the four of us, she was the one that was most set on our goal at once again becoming mortal. I smiled back at her.

"Well," she said in her soft, low tone, her eyes searching mine, "that was interesting. She is not unaware of our presence, nor is she aware that someone is definitely watching her. She is either too scared or too sceptical and not paranoid enough like other humans we have watched. Tarach, I am wary of her. I think we all should be. I advise you to warn Karla of her."

"Why?" I asked her.

"Because Karla is the only one who listens to you . . ." she began, but I cut her off before she could finish, something I knew she didn't like people doing so I made an apologetic gesture before continuing with my interruption.

"No, I mean why should we be wary of her? She is a human . . ." This time it was I who was interrupted.

"Ah, Tarach," Sarra said, putting on her slightly amused smile, which I must admit for loving her so much frustrated me, "you underestimate the human mind. This one obviously is special. Most likely because she has Lord Valinos' blood in her veins. We must be wary of her, Tarach, for she may well be dangerous to our free wills when we reveal ourselves to her."

"And when will we do that?" I asked, now my turn to be slightly amused at Sarra Jann's paranoia.

Like a lightswitch, Sarra's mood flicked to being aggravated at me. "I'm sorry," I said, embracing her. She hung in my arms, her long jacket catching the wind and swirling about her. She nodded, and for a moment I thought she had forgotten my question but when she turned to walk back home she spoke a single word:

"Soon."

I was content with that, even if it had been "soon" for a rather long time, but if she was confident then I was likewise, and we returned to our castle hand in hand, not as lovers but as family.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review! Next chapter will be up soon hopefully!