A Cursed Life - 3. Chapter 3

97. B.C

The Romans have long since pushed the Etruscans from Italy; their
Republic has taken root and swelled quickly. They wasted no time in
acquiring an empire. War after war was waged, and in just over two hundred
years, having defeated all direct enemies and destroyed their chief rival,
the Romans went on to conquer Spain, North Africa, Corsica, and Sardinia,
virtually unchecked. Such were the times...

It comes to me slowly, at the edge of my mind, just beyond
consciousness. Building constantly, it encroaches on my thoughts. It's
almost like the uneasy feeling you get when you have forgotten something
important and it's starting to come back to you. I'd be hard pressed to
truly explain what it's like, the sensation of having a thought not your
own swirling around in your head. These foreign thoughts come at random and
it often takes me a great deal of effort and time to block them out.

These aren't the voices heard by a madman; these are genuine
thoughts, the thoughts of the people around me. There are nearly 500
people in this small city of Thesilis, the capital of Rome is over an eight
days journey by horse. We've made a home for ourselves about a mile out of
town. We own the land legally and pay taxes to Rome. This far from the
capital no one really cares much for the oddities of one's neighbors and
even if they did they would not be direct about it.

It's easy enough to find spare coins on the bodies of those we feed
on. And if any other were needed, that to would be no problem. The only
complexity is found in the humans that work for us. We must keep the land
tended to and the animals fed. These things are best left for the daylight
hours. We pay humans to tend to these things for us; they ask no questions
and from what I hear, they assume we are nobles who have fallen on bad luck
and shy away from socialization out of shame.

For the last few months it's been happening, Amon and Xanthia can do
nothing for me. Even in my sleep, the voices and the thoughts come to
me. Men, women and children, I hear them all. Hopes, dreams, fears and
doubts that are not my own, all swirl in my head. From random ideas down to
the deepest of analytical thought, I hear them all. Xanthia says that she
knows little of such things and that with time and patience I will learn to
control my abilities. Amon himself has only met one reader in his
lifetime, and like many others of our kind, he kept his distance. Some
vampires are truly driven insane by their mind reading ability and become
quite deranged.

Others, a rare few, develop their abilities enough over time that
they can even read the minds of other vampires. Our minds are different
from humans, more complex and there is simply so much more to read. All
vampires are different in some way, some develop unique abilities and some
don't. Xanthia and Amon have spoken little to me about the different
abilities found in our world and they themselves have no unique gifts that
I'm aware of. They can offer me no advice.

I spend most of my days trying to concentrate on keeping the voices
and thoughts quiet, if not out altogether. For the most part it's one
voice, one thought at a time. And sometimes it's several. And when they
come to me one after another, sometimes they linger. It's in those times
that I can feel it, the realization creeps over me; and I know that if just
a few more voices join the mix, that if they get much louder. I'll lose
myself in it all. It can be so hard to separate my own thoughts from theirs
and other times it's laughable to hear them. To listen in on the random
thoughts of people I don't know. Their worries about money and status,
about loyalties and family, as well as religion all come drifting into my
head.

You'd be surprised at how many times a day different people call upon
the gods to help them in one way or another. They spend countless hours of
their lives in front of alters and shrines communing with gods that will
never answer them, never show themselves. Perhaps it's a bit ironic that
in years to come, thousands more people will also look to the heavens and
most of the cries for help, worship and praise will fall on one God. I
entertain the thoughts from time to time that the gods are up there having
to listen to the thoughts and prayers of all these people just as I am,
only a thousand times worse.

I've taken to sitting in my room and trying to visualize a single
image. The valley I lived in remains in my mind. The grass, the nearby
river, the hills and mountains, I picture them in my head almost as if I
were painting them. I start with the mountains that make up the borders of
our valley and then the hills and rock formations. Soon I have a complete
image and I hold onto that as long as I can. Each time I recreate the image
I add more detail, tall grass around the base of trees, caves on the sides
of the mountains and the shallow path of rocks that leads across the river.

The harder I concentrate the less volume the voices and thoughts
seem to have. If I can really lock onto the image and hold it long enough,
I manage to block them out all together. It's taken months to really even
begin to quiet them; I'm not sure day to day if I can take it any longer.
I feel as though I could snap inside at any moment, and I fear, at my
worst, I'd kill them all to silence the voices.

Things haven't been well between master and me, as of late. He won't
say so, but I know that he's disappointed with how I'm handling all of
this. He's never one to show his hand or buckle under the pressure. And I
know he looks down on me for letting all of this get to me. For that very
reason I go out at night and pretend as though I'm ignoring the voices. I
walk through town, as thought after thought attack my mind. I travel to
the main road and head out of town, just as I do on normal nights. We never
feed near our home, it keeps things easier. Walking past all those homes
and shops is like running the gauntlet and taking blow after blow without
being able to yell out.

It was this very night when I had my greatest realization and at the
same time my mind was broken. Coming to the edge of our small town, the
main road was just a ways ahead. Clearing the archway and leaving the
torch lights behind me, I began down the path. I sighed heavily, relieved
to be leaving the town and all those people behind even if only for a few
hours. The road was a long one and if you followed it long enough from
town to town you could reach Rome. The road itself was unremarkable. >From
town to town there was not much of importance. Though, a mile or so out of
town there was a brothel. Men from our town and the next would venture
here to feed their carnal needs. And it was around here that I usually
took to feeding.

Not because these were bad men or women for that matter, but because
there was something addictive about the blood of someone who's just had
sex. All of the hormones, adrenaline, and different chemicals pumping
through the blood, it's like a drug. And over the last few years I had
become quiet the addict. On this particular night, as I grew nearer to the
brothel that familiar feeling at the back of my mind began to return. This
was to be expected as I grew closer to people once again, only this time
the feeling was not subtle at all.

It wasn't building slowly; it was there at the back of my mind and
demanding attention. I could see the torches outside in the distance and I
took notice of three men stumbling drunkenly from the building and two more
were heading in as they left. Tonight was quite a lively night, it was the
day of Aphrodite and the nightly celebration would last well after night
fall in some areas.

I moved off the trail a bit to stand in the shadows. I doubt anyone
would take much notice of me if I was spotted but I'd rather not be seen
just the same. Laughter and music drifted to my ears, even from this
distance. I had always been an observer; I can stand and watch things for
hours if they take my interest. And my senses placed me within the
brothel; with my ears I could hear conversations, laughter, and even the
blissful moans and cries of those indulging themselves with the den
whores. My nose could pick up the smell of wine and ale, of perfume and
sweat. And with those smells my taste buds became active and it's almost as
if you can taste the blood behind those walls, like a sampling.

Maybe an hour or two later a woman came out. Laughing and swaying as
she walked, she was obviously one of the "working women" from the brothel
and not one of the few women who ventured in. She was flustered and fanning
herself, a light sweat had broken out on her skin and the torch light gave
her a slight shine. She leaned against the railing of the building and
simply stared into the distance, just getting some fresh air. I began to
move a bit closer from my place in the shadows. I was far enough away that
neither she, nor anyone else, would have heard my movements but I was
purposely silent nonetheless. I was about 30 feet away standing beside a
tree. The light from the torches just barely reached the tree and I leaned
just beyond that. Had she looked directly at me the woman would have
noticed me.

Not long after I took my place beside the tree, a man came stumbling
out of the brothel. Even from my spot, the smell of alcohol was strong and
as the man cleared the porch, he managed to trip over his own feet and fall
face first to the ground. He laid there mumbling to himself for some time
before collecting himself and cursing at the ground as he moved on, all the
while, the lady laughed on as the drunken man began his journey home. I
stepped from the shadows calmly and purposely made enough noise to get her
attention. She continued to chuckle lightly to herself as she took sight of
me.

"Some people just can't hold their wine" I stated.

"A great many it would seem" she replied, smiling.

"I can imagine". And she was right, there has yet to be a time when a few
patrons didn't come staggering from within. Many of these people, men and
women, had become my victims. Though I don't make it a habit to feed off
drunken people, for I find my senses dulled for several hours after I
do. And even though it's interesting to suddenly not be able to hear
everything around me or see so well in the dark, it's no where near as
addictive as the hormone laced blood of those who come moreso for the
whores.

"I haven't seen you here before, have I?" she questioned. Her mind was an
open book to me, whether I liked it or not, and she assumed I was just
another shy customer, who wasn't so keen on the idea of a brothel and yet
couldn't deny his bodies calling.

"No, you wouldn't have seen me"

"How do you mean?"

"The celebrations have brought many out tonight I see" I quickly diverted
her question.

"Oh trust me, this time of year they come day and night and with them their
brothers and their sons." she laughed. "Come inside?"

"Not just yet, I'm really not here for that" I smiled to her as I took a
spot on the railing next to her. She was thinking of money, more so than
being lead by hormones or attraction. All the same she wanted me in her
bed. She slid closer to me and placed her hand atop mine on the railing.

"Then why are you here? Your wife will never find out and even if she did
it's no business of hers what a man does. Come inside with me." She spoke
softly attempting to seal the deal and make me yet another client.

"I'm actually hungrier than anything else" I said looking her directly in
the eyes. Emerald green eyes that spoke volumes about her. Under different
circumstances she would make a great politician, or even a teacher. It was
all there in her eyes.

"We have plenty of food and drink within, at a fair price"

I took my eyes off of hers and looked out into the blackness of night. She
must have thought I was thinking it over because she leaned over and placed
her other hand on my chest. In truth I was scanning the area for any more
visitors coming to the brothel. "What I want comes at a high price and I'm
afraid you're not likely to offer it in there."

"You're cold, you should come in and warm yourself up at least"

"Walk with me a bit" I said as I stood, her hand was still atop mine so I
turned my palm up to take hers in mine. I smiled at her to erase any
doubts she may have. And immediately her thoughts came to me. She thought
that I intended to force myself on her without paying. Strangely enough,
though I can't be sure, I believe she was more concerned about the money.

"I have money" I said quietly as I walked on with her in tow. I didn't go
far at all really, only to the back of the building. I leaned against the
building, the loud music from within drowning out the sound of our
movements and I could tell she was straining to see me in the darkness. As
I leaned against the wall, she placed her hands at my waist and moved
against me. Her perfume was strong and it mixed with the smell of wine to
make a unique fragrance. Her left hand moved up the small of my back as
the right one pulled at my waist cord. In one swift movement, I gently
spun her around so she was against the building and I was leaning against
her. My mouth immediately went to her neck, not yet biting. She moaned, it
was all a show and I knew this, her thoughts only confirmed it. Her hands
were roaming over me, as if in the heat of the moment, but in truth
searching for my money.

We remained like this for some time, my mouth moving from one side of her
neck to the next and back again. For the time being, feeling the blood
pump beneath her skin was more important than anything else. And it would
have remained so, but the sensations at the back of my mind became more
persistent. Never before had this happened while I fed. While feeding, a
vampire's mind nearly switches off and instinct becomes the master. There
is no need to think or rationalize, our bodies know what to do and the
hunger pulls at us, and we can't deny seeking out a means of satisfying it.

I began to lick at the skin of her neck just above her main artery;
it wouldn't be long before her blood was on my tongue. And as I licked, the
thoughts pushed their way forward. These thoughts weren't of the woman
that stood before me, but of those inside. Men were singing and drinking
heavily, having enjoyed their fill of the whores for one night. And some
were drinking and joining in the merriment even before they had their whore
of choice. The brothel owner behind the bar, scanning the crowd to see
which patron is drunk enough to be swindled out of even more money by his
women. The thoughts swirled around in my head but they couldn't distract
me from my task.

I pulled from her neck and she held me closer, thinking perhaps that
I'd changed my mind. She buried her head in my chest and held me tight. I
looked out into the darkness as I felt my fangs drop, piercing through my
gums, the slight pain caused by the tearing of flesh when they dropped
always seemed to accent the moment. I pushed her back against the wall and
began to lick at her neck again feverishly. She no doubt felt my fangs
scrap at her neck a few times as I felt her flinch. I pulled back
slightly, ready to pierce her flesh and just then yet another string of
voices and thoughts came to me. The women in the back counting out the
money they'd made so far. The few men who actually had a moments pause to
think about their wives and children. The woman upstairs being raped by
two men who refused to pay her price, and the men and women in other areas
of the brothel who were in the throws of passion. It all came rushing to
me and it made my heart pump faster. It wasn't just their thoughts but the
feelings tied to them as well. This was new and if I had been of full mind
at the moment it would have frightened me. As all of this rolled over me I
took it in, and once it settled I finally bit down.

She only yelled out slightly at first, in shock and unaware of what
was happening. With all the activity within no one would hear her. The
blood splashed up into my mouth and filled it quickly. Instinctively I
drank it down as if my very life depended on it, my bite growing stronger
the longer I fed. She tensed up and her adrenaline rose quickly as her body
responded to the attack in an attempt to protect her. Soon she was all out
screaming and my hand rose to close around her throat. Even through my palm
I could feel the blood pumping up to spill from her wound. She clawed at my
arm and hand trying to free herself from my grasp. I was crushing her
windpipe and eventually I felt it collapse under the pressure I applied to
it. The force of my bite seemed to grow stronger and stronger as time went
on.

My mouth was firmly placed over the wound insuring I didn't let a
single drop past my lips. There was just so much life in this thick liquid,
I can't truly describe it, there is just so much more to blood than simply
carrying oxygen. I was filled with more energy with every gulp and this
energy made my movements more and more animalistic. Soon I was shaking her
as I sucked at her neck and my bite felt as though I could take a chunk out
of her. I was dizzy with sensation and the voices and thoughts swirling
around made things even more hectic. She was not yet dead but she had long
ago gone limp in my arms. She had lost a lot of blood at this point and it
would be a matter of moments before her life was over and I knew it.

Unexpectedly, the sensations in my head seemed to burst all at once
and my mind was saturated with foreign thoughts and emotions. One moment,
I was overcome with joy and felt like letting out a roaring laugh. The next
moment, my body was sweating as my blood pumped and I was full of lust and
adrenaline. An array of different emotions cycled throughout my body, each
as strong as the last and if I hadn't been feeding at the time I would have
been crushed by them. Venomously I pulled away from my victim's neck with a
snarl; something wasn't right.

Her thoughts were in there as well, in my head. Her screams came to the
forefront of my mind as if meant for me alone. Her fear, her adrenaline
rush, the very tension in her muscles, I could feel all of it. And for a
few seconds it was almost as if I was afraid of myself, as though I were
seeing myself through her eyes. And it was like a mirror. I saw a tall dark
figure hunched over me in the darkness of night behind this building. I had
tricked her, preyed upon her and then ripped into her flesh like some
animal. My senses were on fire and I felt my own body tensing up in
response. I let her limp frame fall to the dirt, I had not yet had my fill
but I simply couldn't bring myself to take hold of her and continue to
feed. I looked down at her, blood running over her neck and down onto her
clothing, hair tangled in weeds and skin smeared red with dirt and blood.
She was motionless, nearly dead, I could hear her heart beat and it was
faint. Her screams and pleas for help echoing off the walls of my mind.

And at the back of my mind, all the voices and thoughts that had been
drifting in and out became just as loud and they all mixed together. It was
like being in a crowd of thousands and having all their voices and all the
sounds they made contained completely in your head. It was beyond
maddening. I've been taught to take care of bodies; to disguise them to
look like murders or robberies gone bad. Sometimes simply dragging a body
out into woods and letting the animals finish it off is enough to hold off
persecution. Leaving a body this close to town where others could find it
without disguising it one way or another was unthinkable, and yet I did
just that. I had to get away from there, I was slipping into madness and I
wasn't sure if I could hold onto sanity long enough to deal with the body.

I moved away from the brothel quickly and took off running into the
darkness. I tore through tall grass and leapt over logs and rocks. It was
as if I was running from my own mind. I would try to sift through the
madness of it all, try to separate and silence the thoughts. The second I
would push one to the back of my mind two more would fall into its
place. It was like trying to move water with your hands. There was nothing
I could do but get away from them and hope that that silenced the voices
and stopped the flux of emotions. And so I ran.

The walls and torch light have begun to fade from sight and it's
still not far enough. I passed into the woods nearly an hour ago and still
the voices remain and new ones join in every minute. From time to time I
forget why I'm running in the first place, as my mind becomes focused on
some random thought. Should I count my money? I wonder if I have enough
feed for the chickens in the morning. The only way to get the senator to
see my point is through blackmail or bribery. I won't let my daughter be
married to that fiend, I'll see him dead first. He can't know, how could he
know, I clean the bed and change the sheets everyday before he returns
home. The body is still down by the river, I know it is but I dare not go
to it, I can't see his body like that, I've killed my own brother. PLEASE,
please gods above don't let me die like this!

I finally collapsed at the base of a tree, my chest burned from the
exertion of running all this time. I was so crazed that I clawed at my own
face as though I was trying to dig the voices out with my bare hands. And
in my mania, I lost all grasp of reality. In my mind I saw that dark
figure standing over me, crushing my throat and silencing all cries. And
just like that it was over, all the thoughts and voices were silenced,
including my own. I lay there motionless, trapped in my own head. The sun
would be up in a few hours and I didn't care if it charred me alive. A few
moments ago, my head was flooded with thoughts and now I had none. It was
as though I was trapped in a dark room and the door had been
locked. Outwardly, I made not a sound or movement but inside I was clawing
to get out.

I awoke to the sounds of a piano being played in the next room. I
didn't open my eyes yet, as my head was pounding and it seemed only natural
to keep my eyes closed. At first I wasn't completely sure as to where I
was. As I calmed down, the music in the background became unmistakable as
Xanthia's playing. I sat up quickly and the pain in my head doubled. It
felt as though I had taken a battering ram to the head, my temples were
sore and the area at the front of my brain seemed to be overly warm. Upon
opening my eyes slowly, a piercing pain shot through my head and I yelled
out. A few moments later I heard Xanthia calmly walk into the room.

"So, you're awake finally" she stated pulling a chair to the side of my bed

"How, did I ..."

"Amon found you, in the dirt a few miles from here. You went quite a bit
further than usual didn't you? He said your eyes were wide open but you
wouldn't answer him when he found you. Your face looked as though animals
had been clawing at you. I didn't believe him myself until I saw it. You
were practically comatose...when you weren't shouting like a mad man and
twitching. Neither of us had any idea of what to do or what had happened
to you."

"How long have I been out, Xanthia?" I asked, turning slightly in bed to
face her.

"It's been nearly a week since Amon found you. We weren't able to wake you
by any means, what happened? "

"To many thoughts all at once, her thoughts were in my head Xanthia, I was
killing her and her screams and thoughts were in my head. And worse than
that I could feel their emotions; all of them. I couldn't take it. I
couldn't sift through them all. I was going crazy....and I"

"Calm down, it's passed. You're fine now aren't you?"

"No, it could happen again at any moment and there's nothing I can do, my
head feels like I've been beaten about the skull."

"You'll learn to control it soon and all these problems will be in the
past. You just need patience to let it happen." She stated calmly. No
matter what the situation Xanthia could remain calm, if I had said I was
chased down and raped by the devil she'd still insist that patience was the
answer.

"And if I don't, if I don't learn to control it, what if I go crazy like
the others? Maybe that's why there aren't more readers." I was almost
frantic for answers.

She leaned forward and looked me straight in the eyes. "The truth is Devon,
that we won't know until we get to that point. None of us have dealt with
this before, so there's no point in getting so worked up about it until we
get there."

"I was trapped in my mind, I was laying there on the ground in those woods
and any animal, or human for that matter, could have found me there. The
sun was only a few hours from coming up when I blacked out. How can you
even expect me to be calm about this? Would you be?" I was yelling at this
point. And Xanthia took it all in stride and replied just as calmly as she
always did.

"Yes." She simply stated rising from the chair to make her way back into
the living room. She was playing the piano once again moments later.

I could feel a slight tremor starting in my body, the worst of this
entire thing was the irony. We never spoke of it, mainly because I didn't
know where to begin. It's something that can't be explained, knowing that
something is missing in you. Like all vampires, I was gifted with a memory
capacity that was seemingly limitless. Through all of my life I would be
able to recall nearly every detail of every experience I had. At least that
is how it should have been. A vampire can remember everything from his
birth to his dying day. And yet for me it has never been so.

I recall dying and awakening again, but the time thereafter is simply
gone from my memory. I don't recall meeting Xanthia and Amon for the first
time. I don't recall getting to know them or adjusting to being a vampire
and living with my new master. I don't recall my first kill, or any firsts
for that matter. And I never have. The questions I should have had in the
beginning are still questions I have now. And I simply don't know if I
ever even asked them. Xanthia and master are both aware of my
situation. I've been told that sometimes a vampire simply doesn't recall
the early stages of his new life. Much like humans don't recall life as a
toddler, how they crawled on the ground and stuck things in their mouths
out of curiosity. According to Xanthia, it was nothing to think on and was
just as natural as remembering. Here I was, able to look into the minds of
those around me and yet a chunk of my own life was hidden from me amongst
my own thoughts.

I went to swing my legs off the bed to get up, but my legs wouldn't move.
And as I pulled the sheets back my realization was two fold. My legs were
tied to the bed by thick rope and so were my arms but with enough slack to
allow them to rest at my side. The rope was very thick and had quite a bit
of weight to it. Still if I wanted to, I could snap them easily, they'd do
little to hold me in this bed. Though I imagine if I wasn't really aware
that they were there in the first place they might hold me in place. "Why
am I tied to the bed? Xanthia?" I called out.