Eyes of the Seer Read online

  Did I recall her? Yes, there was something familiar about her. Her flowing red hair fell over strong shoulders and her suit accentuated a curvy, slim body. Middle-aged in appearance yet still quite attractive, her face stirred the recesses of memory but left me with nothing more than a fleeting sense of déjà vu. She gazed at me like a mother and I found myself regarding her as a son. “Who are you?” I asked, my voice reduced to a whisper.

  She smiled. “You know who I am and yet, you have no idea.” She reached forward, her fingers grazing past my cheek. This time, I did not flinch. “My name is Sabrina. I'm sorry, this part is never easy, dear. It will take you some time to adjust.”

  “Adjust,” I said, trying to decipher the word and its relationship to me. The riddle too much for me to unravel, I allowed my eyes to wander toward the others. I sensed no sort of recognition; nothing like what I experienced when I first laid eyes on Sabrina. Instead, I was left to clinically observe what I kept thinking of as a silent jury.

  A woman in sensual, Gothic dress remained seated next to a dark-haired man in a finely-tailored suit. Her hair blonde, it flowed down her shoulders and framed a face with pale, green eyes which looked terminally bored. The man sighed, his blue eyes shifting from me to anywhere else as though avoiding my gaze. The third onlooker, however, stood against the wall, close to where the light switch was. He scrutinized me with the most disdain, his long hair tied back in a ponytail and a three-piece suit hanging from a wiry frame. The corner of his mouth was curled in a condescending grin, and I vaguely recalled Sabrina calling him Michael a few minutes beforehand. Without one word exchanged between us, I knew he loathed me. The sentiment was rapidly becoming mutual.

  My gaze returned to Sabrina. “Why does it hurt?” I asked, with the pitiful frailty of a child.

  Sabrina smiled. “Young one, you have just risen from the crossing,” she said. “You are facing this harsh world as a newborn again.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I brought my hands to my head. The riddle of Sabrina’s words looped in a nonsensical manner. Crossing? I did not have the foggiest idea what a ‘crossing’ was. “How long have I been asleep?” I asked. “A few hours? A day?”

  “A bit longer than that.” Sabrina paused. “Do you remember what happened before you fell asleep?”

  I blinked, trying to recall anything prior to the pain of waking. That was when one memory came crashing through the haze. “I remember a knife,” I said, my eyes gazing into the distance. “I had been holding a knife and then I ran. I stabbed her. I stabbed Lydia.”

  She frowned. “Yes, I’ve never seen one so covered in blood prior to the conversion. Such violence doesn’t make this transition any easier, but you have been given the gift you asked for...” The next words caused me a start, as though Sabrina read my previous thoughts. “… my new son.”

  I perked an eyebrow. “Gift?”

  “Yes, gift.” Sabrina's frown settled into a more even expression and her eyes drifted away. I shifted into a seated position, forced to take a few seconds to get my wits about me when a slight wave of dizziness followed the effort. Glancing down at my body, I regarded the simple pair of khaki slacks and black, button-down shirt which hung from my frame. It occurred to me for the first time that I was feeling weak.

  My gaze shifted back to Sabrina as she continued speaking. “You told me about your parents,” she said. “About being a doctor. Do you remember? How everything in life seems so transient and how you wished to be part of something more permanent?”

  I struggled to recall the conversation. Familiar though it was, the words echoed at me from the other side of an impenetrable wall. I closed my eyes and shook my head. “I want to remember, but I can’t.”

  “No reason to be concerned,” Sabrina said. “It’s all part of the process. Some vampires have a hard time recalling much from their past lives, I’m afraid, until the initial shock wears off.”

  The word forced my eyes open. “Vampires?”

  Sabrina smiled wide, baring a set of pointed fangs. “Yes, my dear. You have become one of us. Just as you asked to be.”

  The sight of her ungodly daggers frightened a shout past my lips. I backed away with such sudden force, I fell off the other side of the bed. Struggling to my feet, I fought past another bout of dizziness while finding the wherewithal to retreat. Sabrina came to her feet and walked toward me as I backed away, her steps slow and cautious. “Peter, don’t be afraid...”

  My back hit a wall. “I don’t believe you,” I said, frenzied, “I don’t believe any of this.” My eyes shifted toward the others as they peered at me with upturned eyebrows. “Who are you people?!”

  Sabrina did not allow them to respond. “Those are your brethren.”

  I shook my head once more and edged along the wall until I stopped by the corner of the room. This beast of a woman I initially found captivating came closer to where I stood and I, in turn, pressed against the wall. “No,” I said. “I don’t know you. I’ve never met any of you. This is a nightmare I’m going to wake up from when I...”

  “Peter,” Sabrina interrupted. “This isn’t a dream. You’ve been asleep for almost a week...”

  “No I haven’t...”

  “... and during the course of that week...”

  “No. Stop. I’m not listening to you.”

  “... you’ve died and been reborn again.”

  “Stop saying that!” I shouted with a hiss, but the death knell to my denial sounded its toll when I felt something cut into my lower lip. Although I had closed my eyes to holler, they shot open when I realized that whatever the ‘something’ was, it was coming from my mouth. One shaky hand relinquished its hold on the wall and lifted, hesitating at first before tracing the contours of a sharp, pointed incisor akin to Sabrina’s. My hand recoiled in shock, but the wall of truth had been broken. Curiosity took the reins away.

  I raised my other hand, touching a complementary dagger on the other side of my mouth. Inhaling another breath amplified the silence in my chest. My fingers lowered to my neck, searching for a pulse, and met with nothing but cool flesh without the normal rhythm of a heartbeat. I was dead and yet, there I stood with fangs exposed. “It's true,” I said, my voice just above a whisper. My eyes found Sabrina again. “I've become a vampire.”

  She smiled with relish. “Welcome to the coven,” she said. “Don’t worry, all of the answers will come in time.”

  At first, I nodded in semi-acceptance, but an unfamiliar shiver crawled up my spine that no amount of reservation could stand against. A litany of symptoms blossomed with greater intensity the longer my fangs remained exposed. I felt dizzy; my throat felt dry and an infantile thought brought me face-to-face with my first entanglement with bloodlust.

  I was hungry. So very hungry.

  Sabrina’s voice broke through my senses. “Are you alright, my new son?” she asked. When my eyes opened, however, her look of anxiety morphed into a wicked smile. “You’re hungry.”

  I leaned my head back and stared toward the ceiling. “Yes, I am,” I said, although the term ‘hunger’ did little to capture the all-consuming thirst overwhelming me. “I need something to eat. I don’t think I’ve eaten in a while.”

  The grin on her face broadened. She turned toward the man standing on the opposite side of the room. “Michael, bring in the girl,” she said. “It’s time we taught your brother how to feed.”

  “As you wish, Mistress,” Michael said, emphasizing the term of address in what struck me as a disdainful manner. He flashed a condescending smirk at me again before departing, and I fought the urge to sneer back at him. If he was to be the solution to the problem I faced, I did not wish to raise his ire. Still, I choked back a sizable amount of contempt as I shut my eyes and waited for his return.

  A few moments later, the door opened. An intoxicating aroma emanated from the doorway and my eyelids lifted to behold a woman, hands bound and mouth gagged. She regarded me with panic-stricken eyes as Michael forced her
further into the room. The sight of her fear intrigued me and the steady pulse I heard summoned a craving unlike any I had ever experienced before. Where once I would have looked at her and seen a human being, hunger reduced her down to little more than the means to sate my need.

  Michael held her steady. “Come here and observe me,” he said.

  I nodded and stepped closer, my gaze shifting to my new immortal sibling. Michael’s fangs slid down, forcing me to shiver while he pressed his nose against the girl’s neck and drew in a deep breath. She squeaked pitifully.

  He ignored it, as did I.

  “You can always tell where it is the sweetest by their scent,” he said. Michael closed his eyes and ceased his pursuit at a certain spot. “Those sharp teeth you possess cut deep enough to reach it. I will demonstrate.”

  I watched the girl jump when Michael’s fangs pierced her skin. Blood ran down in rivulets, staining her shirt and producing a sight which unnerved and excited me all at once. Her eyes brimmed with tears, but again I found myself strangely apathetic to her plight. Instead, the viscous, red liquid running from her veins held my interest captive.

  Michael pulled away and lifted his eyes to regard me. “Now, your turn. Don’t think about it, merely do it.”

  Nodding, I approached the woman, her potent scent tangling me inside an enchanting web. I wrestled with the notion of ripping her apart and imbibing whatever did not spill to the ground, but images of Michael’s fangs driving into her flesh lulled me into a fledgling form of temptation. I rather liked the way that bite looked. So sensual – intimate, even. A communion with this frail being for fleeting seconds before she had nothing left to offer.

  Without further thought, I allowed my senses to become saturated with her and ran my nose along her neck until that golden spot gripped me and forced me to pause. With that, I did what I had seen Michael do.

  I drove my teeth into her neck and spilled forth the first drops of human blood I ever consumed.

  The taste was exceptional, slipping past my tongue in rivers of ecstasy which stirred to life the most primeval of urges. It was reminiscent of the pleasure I had experienced while drinking from Sabrina's wrist, but this time the fire of human blood filled my veins and lit an inferno of all-consuming need. I drew inward with dire urgency, swallowing mouthfuls in a lusty manner, taking her in until she had to be held upright.

  Her pulse wavered before ceasing altogether. My fangs retracted and the heat of blood warmed the chill of my body, filling me with sated contentedness. I pulled away, my eyes closed, and allowed my victim's depleted body to crumple to my feet.

  “Very good, my son,” Sabrina said, her voice ebbing toward me through the haze of afterglow. “It’s like you were born to be a killer.”

  I turned my head to look at her, still ignorant of so many things as our eyes met. I could not remember who I was beyond the vision of a knife and flashes of imagery centered on confessing the death of a girl named Lydia, but the lack of memories from my past life failed to bother me. I could only think of how it felt to drain that girl dry.

  “I could get used to being a vampire,” I said, allowing my gaze to shift away from Sabrina and the others. A sinister grin overtook me and my own voice rang peculiar in my ears. The being speaking now was a different man; I had no need of remembering my mortality to be certain of that much. With one mere feed I had transcended even the frightened being that woke with his eyes blinded by pain. Something squeezed away that fear and dread, replacing it with an enamored state of euphoria.

  I smiled as its ghost left a mark on my psyche. Its caress was cold and calculating; sadistic and enchanting. “Yes, I enjoyed that very much,” I said with a nod. “In fact, I’d like to do it again.”

  Chapter Three

  The taste of blood far sweeter than I could have ever imagined, it remained on the tip of my tongue as though taking up residence. The lingering memory of the woman from whom I drank burned upon my soul as an everlasting tribute, the experience without parallel even if I did not have much with which I could compare it.

  Regardless of how hard I tried, I still did not recall who this man named Peter had been prior to waking. A fleeting recollection of Lydia remained the sole concept I possessed of who I was, and even that painted a grim picture. I saw myself crying toward the night sky, expressing remorse over the fatal wounds I had inflicted, but another piece to the puzzle provided a sharp contrast to my tear-stained repentance. The sight of blood; I remembered slitting the throat of the man in Lydia’s bed and knew I had enjoyed it. My vampire instincts reveled in it, taking hold of it as proof Sabrina was right. I was born to be a killer.

  That moment marked the genesis of a dichotomy.

  The seed planted did not bear fruit immediately. At first, the gaping, black holes forming my past life were a wide enough berth for the fledgling vampire to roam free. My new condition had me far too enamored to lament the absence of my past recollections and as such, I merely lived within the moment, with no thought or reservation given over to what I did. Blood seared my conscience, cauterizing it from the start.

  The morning following my awakening, I returned to my new quarters after a night spent becoming acquainted with the other immortals in the coven. More crimson was spilled, and wine and decadence teased me with a hint of nights to come.

  It should be noted none of this would have been possible without a pair of sunglasses. Before Sabrina presented me to the others, we had tested the lights only to discover they continued to burn my eyes, something which both surprised and yet did not surprise my mistress all at once. When asked about it, she said, “This just makes you unique,” before turning to Rose – the female member of the silent jury – and asking her to fetch the darkest lenses she could find.

  She received no help from Michael in the venture, which started to become a trend. The next evening, it was Sabrina who entered my room after the siren call of night threw my eyes open and woke the thirst within me. By the time she arrived, my fangs ached and I could not retract them. My eyes immediately gravitated toward what she held as the scent of blood became pervasive throughout the room.

  “My young one hungers,” Sabrina said fondly the moment she saw my condition. She sat beside me and handed over a goblet filled to the brim with that thick, scarlet liquid I now worshipped. I consumed it with vigor, drinking each drop as though starved. She watched with barely bridled enthusiasm.

  Lowering the empty cup, I wiped the remnant from my mouth and asked, “Why didn’t you have me feed from a mortal?”

  Her brown eyes danced. In that moment, the sensuality she wore so effortlessly spoke to every baser part of me, dispelling any doubt of why she caught my eye as a human. A simple response drifted past her luscious, ruby lips. “We are going to teach you how to hunt.” Little did I realize the concept would captivate me as much as it did. She led me from the room, entrusting the short-haired vampire present for my awakening – Timothy – with the task of assisting me.

  On our way outside, though, we passed Michael in the foyer. His conversation with a younger-looking vampire named Charles paused just long enough for him to watch me pass. We exchanged a look of mutual disdain, and then severed the gaze. I dismissed it, but only for the time being, in favor of focusing on the task at hand.

  Though the lesson itself was as rudimentary as biting a mortal, the hunt enchanted me far more so. My predatory instincts took hold of it naturally; my ears only distantly hearing Timothy speak of the harmony of a pulse and the allure of a human’s scent. The first mortal to cross our path became my next victim and their death was just as insignificant to me as the one from the previous evening. I discovered stalking them was a game of unparalleled thrill.

  Successive nights were spent lavished in blood and lessons. Sabrina summoned me to the common area one night the next week and left me in Michael's care, saying, “Teach your brother the things he needs to know.” Her instructions seemed to leave a poor taste in both our mouths. I thanked heaven for my v
isual infirmity at that moment, as my sunglasses blocked the annoyed look in my eyes while Sabrina walked away.

  Michael huffed and motioned for me to follow him toward the opposite end of the room. “Well, now that you’re a vampire, we must keep you from destroying yourself in neophyte stupidity,” he said as we passed several of the others. His manner of speech struck me as odd for the first time; a distinctive brogue lacing his words with what I thought might be British or Irish, or both. It bore a formality also present in Timothy’s more American accent, and inspired me to glance around the room and take stock of the well-tailored suits and handmade dresses surrounding me. It made my hand-me-down shirts and slacks pale in comparison.

  In that instant, I realized I had been born into a haven for bloodthirsty sophisticates.

  “Are you listening to a word I'm saying?”

  My gaze shifted back to Michael, a sarcastic grin accompanying my response. “Loud and clear,” I said. “Keep the idiot from killing himself.”

  “So long as you recognize your station.” Michael lifted an eyebrow, regarding me in silence for a moment before looking away. He did not bother to sit when I did, merely paced around avoiding eye contact as he laid out before me the first of several instructions.

  It did not take long for me to discover that most of what mortals know about vampires is absolute nonsense. Certainly, the rumor about feeding on blood revealed itself in all its naked honesty as did another vital tenet which Michael laid out in the very first lesson. “When you see the sky lighten, you must seek refuge at once,” he said while leaning against the wall. “Do not question how many minutes you may have. Get inside before the sun has chance to rise.”

  “What will happen if I'm caught outside at daytime?” I asked.

  Michael huffed. “Well, we will be certain to sweep up your remnant when the sun sets.”