C - Blood Chain

Blood Chain

So it's Gaia now? That lass has gone through a whole heap of names, I
guess 'Earth' is one of the better ones. That's what it means,
basically. And who am I? Dakita, that's who. Vampire's predator, as the
eldest so poetically put it. I'm the one she sent the manuscript to. We
are basically sisters, my life inexorably bound to hers. 'Inexorably',
good word for someone whose vocabulary tends to err towards the Bronze
Age that she was born in. It's Amarantal talking.

Amarantal? Gaia doesn't know about her. Not quite yet. That's why I'm
adding my bit to this tale of my prey. Of course, Gaia's is also a bit
short to publish on its own. But that aside, I'm feeling kinda
authorish.

So... I'm Dakita. Vampire Predator. Predator of my predator. Top of the
food chain. Top of the blood chain. Six thousand years old, give or
take a century. Gaia gave you the basics of my tale. I'm the original
Vampire Slayer. But minus the crucifix and witty repartee. Vampires are
actually stronger than your average human, and when your getting your
butt kicked there isn't much time for talk.

Part One
Recap of my tale, if you want. If you don't, skip the next bit. Born a
freak of nature according to my tribe leaders, though actually I'm more
inclined to believe my mother was a little free with her ways, I was
raised to be a sacrifice. I had power, no one could deny that. Still
got it, in truth. Back then, there were less people. Life is magic, of
a sort, and the more it has to spread the weaker it gets. Notice that
the 'quality' of life isn't as good as it used to be? When people say
the magic's gone out of someone's relationship, they're probably right.
Back then, life was more concentrated, and there were those of us that
could use it, in a way. Power of Mother Nature and all that. I was one
of them. You still get people like that, but science has kinda stopped
people believing in it, and belief is the most powerful tool any one
can wield. Why do think religion is so popular?

So, ultra powerful me, witch of the highest degree (seventh daughter of
a seventh daughter as well!), was at the age of thirteen told that I
was going to become immortal. Not bad, except I didn't believe a word
of it. The tribe elders had said the year before that it would snow of
the winter solstice. Needless to say, it didn't, which was actually
quite an unusual occurrence back then. So I was a bit sceptical, like
every teenager, a bit cynical.

They made me listen a bit longer. We will make you immortal, they said.
Make you the most powerful sorceress the world will ever know, they
told me. Give you the strength and stamina of a hundred men, they
informed me. Oh, and by the way, you have to wipe out this evil race of
beings that have killed several of our people recently if you ever want
to pass to the next realm.

I'm not an idiot. Immortality's not such a great thing, as Gaia so
kindly pointed out at the beginning of her little tale. Plus, not one
ever said I'd be invulnerable. Besides, the guy Gaia had killed? He'd
tried to rape me the night before, so I wasn't exactly mourning his
death. I make it sound like not a big thing, and it wasn't. Not then.
Anyhow, I sat and thought about their proposition for all of ten
minutes and decided no. Except it hadn't been a proposition, it had
been a decision on my behalf. I was the witch, the freak, the virgin
who would suffice. Virginity, but of course. There was another catch,
as far as I could see. As long as I was a virgin, I was immortal (still
didn't believe they could do it). The moment I took a man to my bed (no
man would ever take me to his!), I'd basically die. And I'd been so
looking forwards to it.

Gaia makes me sound a bit of slut in her tale. I did not just go out
and take the first man I could find. Ready for the love story bit of
this tale? There was this guy I liked. Unfortunately, he was a
foreigner. The Britons are famous for being xenophobic, and no wonder.
Celts, Romans, Norsemen (Vikings), Angles, Saxons, Jutes and finally
Romans invaded our little island. I saw them all. This was the first
lot, the Celts. The Celts who wiped out my people. And this guy of
mine? Yep, Celtic. Long wavy dark hair, blue eyes and pale skin. Drop
dead gorgeous. The memory give me goosebumps.

We'd been 'courting' for about a month. He was a real gentleman. Any
bloke from my tribe would have just taken me there and then. But this
guy, well, he even gave me flowers! I wasn't quite sure what to do with
them, presents not being a big part of the ancient Britons mating
rites, but I was dead chuffed. He hid from the tribe in a cave. And the
night I knew I was to die, I went to him. I told him I was to be
sacrificed, which as far as I could see I was, and he understood.

Ecstasy. I've had many men since them, even some women, but I'll never
forget him. As the moon rose over the downs I left him sleeping and
made my way to the stones. If you didn't get it from Gaia's
description, this was Stonehenge. Still is, though it looks a bit
dilapidated now. I told them what I had done, the tribe leaders, but
they didn't listen.

I don't want to speak about what happened next. Needless to say, I
died. It was when I came back to life things got weird. I didn't
believe it the first time, but I didn't get much time to appreciate it.
I was a young woman of twenty, unmarried, and a 'priestess'. I had long
dark hair, that much I remember. When I say unmarried, I mean I was
still a maiden. Unusual, when most girls were mothers before fifteen
winters had passed since their birth. And the reason was thus: I was a
freak, again. But not for what I looked like, not this time. Not even
for the magic, which I kept better hidden.

They thought I was mad. In my fourth summer, I told them of Dakita's
life. I told them I had lived before, and that I was to be the predator
of mortal man's only true predator. I told them of the sacrifice. They
would have thought I was completely insane, but for one thing. My
mother had known Dakita, had known her fate. She told me I was mad,
that none of this had ever happened. I was scared; terrified of these
memories that could not possibly be mine. I too my own life at the age
of twenty, unable to cope with this madness that afflicted me.

Then it got worse. I was born again. But this time I remembered the
madness of the previous time and the pain of my first few attempts at
suicide. I hadn't been good at it. I remembered the pain of the stone
dagger in my breast as the priests killed me. I went through the same
sequence several times over, convinced I was some kind of freak, some
evil spirit.

It wasn't until about my tenth rebirth that I finally began to cope
with it. This time I told no one. I walked the island alone, usually at
night. With the pale skin and red hair I've been born with most times,
I'm prone to burning. Perhaps it's something to do with the vampire's
blood. It was on my twenty-first solstice that I accepted my fate. I
met a vampire, for the first time.

I had been stretched out in front of a fire when this half-starved,
naked man came to beg some food from me. In pity, I gave him some boar.
But as I reached out my hand with the half-cooked meat he grabbed my
wrist and began to gnaw on it. Something Gaia forgot to mention,
vampires don't have naturally pointed fangs. In some places, they don't
have fangs at all. You see, they're human all over their bodies. Most
used knives back then. It wasn't until this century that the idea of
sharpening their canines became popular. So, I wasn't in any particular
danger when this wretched creature began to nibble my wrist. I hit him
over the head with a log from the fire, still burning at one end.

His hair caught fire as I swung the log at him again. And then his skin
caught fire. He went up like a torch as his blood boiled. I shan't
forget those screams, as I'll never forget the thousands of screams
like them that I've caused in my time. But then I knew my purpose. The
memory was strong in me, and my purpose became clear. No longer was I a
madwoman, a freak, an evil spirit. I was a predator of my kind's
predator.

I died less than an hour later, when the first of the invading Celts
buried his spear in my back. I kept up the preying for the better part
of two millennia. But it wasn't worth it, I knew. I could kill every
vampire in Britain, but when the Romans invaded I lost all hope. The
vampires had spread across the whole world. I could never have killed
them all.

Remember, but this point they'd had well over two million years to
spread. While Gaia exercised some control, the others didn't. There is
only so much one person can do, no matter what the tales tell. I met
Gaia, we talked, and I realised how hopeless my task was.

Over the past six thousand years, I've watched vampires evolve. Gaia
could probably have given you the better overview but now she avoids
her kind at all costs. I completely understand why. Most vampires die
before they take their first victim. They don't understand about heat,
and as the world warms, well... I watched so many go up in flames I
almost felt sorry for them. This was still common when I was born. Then
of course there was the feeding. After taking their first victim, many
would take their own lives. Or, an even more common occurrence, unable
to accept death they would flee human habitation, easier to do back
then, and die of hunger. I'd have just walked into the sun, if it had
been me. And it has been, several times.

But then they got smart, well, smarter. They started to keep their
offspring close at first, to tell them of the dangers of fire and
starvation. This meant more survived. It was about this time I
discovered stakes. It's true, they do work. It's the friction, you see.
But they're pretty unreliable. Anyway, the vampires had hit the next
level. Also note, as humans got smarter the vamps did as well.

And then? Well, once they'd taught their children to hunt and survive
the hunt, they found it was actually easier to hunt in packs. They also
realised that too many in one area drew too much attention, and some
set out to thin the numbers, giving me an unknowing hand. But it didn't
really help. They were now so many, so much smarter, and so
overpowering when hunting in numbers I went through six lives in one
century before I got the hang of preying on them again. In England back
then, their only real shelters were caves, and caves tend to have a lot
of leaf litter. I never get why in films the slayers wait for
nightfall. Vampires die so much better during the day. Especially after
the invention of cellars. Cellars often have windows that can be
opened.

Part Two
So, I've got the hang of the predator thing. I've pretty much given up
on the predator thing. Skip forwards to about twenty years ago. End of
the Cold War D?tente era, kind of thing. Have to say the Cold War was
the first war that ever frightened me. Without a planet, I'd never come
back. I imagine that for Gaia it wouldn't have been so bad. Would have
taken her back to her little ice age in which she was born.

I'd picked a predator outfit by then. Imagine, black skin-tight
trousers, bodice style top that laced up at the front, black knee high
boots with wooden stilettos and lots of blood-red trim. Basically I
looked like a total prostitute. But it worked. The vampires were very
human, and since Dracula was published they considered themselves
sexual creatures. The males loved me.

I never got the sexual vampire thing except from a literary point of
view. Vampires rarely have sex. The blood taking is better that almost
any orgasm, so they don't bother. Trust me, I've been one. Many. You
know Gaia never touched a man since her angel died? That's love, three
million years of devotion.

But there was one vamp that was totally into the sex thing. Actually,
it was the Sex, Drugs and Rock-and-Roll thing. He and one he had turned
had a bit of band in the vampire world. Imagine this, long leather
coat, black leather trousers, blood red very tight T-shirt (that
chest!), and huge boots. Plus sunglasses. And long black hair, and blue
eyes. He resembled my Celtic lover, millennia earlier. I admit it, I
fell for him there and then, at the innocent (!) age of seventeen. But
I'm getting ahead of myself.

He called himself Blaze. His real name? Julius. AKA Julius the
Barbarian, for his butchery of most of Shakespeare's works when he'd
been an actor. He was born in 1820, a vampire for just under 130 years
at that point. He'd worked out something else about vampires; they
might be more successful as a group, but vampires can't bear each
other's company for long periods of time, and were better off in twos
or threes. Made my life much easier.

He was Londoner, through and through. Right down to the accent, though
he never seems to decide where in London he's from. I think he was
actually brought up in one of the 'home-counties', and the London
accent's just to make him tougher. I know he had a 'proper' education,
as he speaks Latin, Ancient Greek, Hebrew, French, German, Russian and
Italian. He also plays the piano, violin, harpsichord, harp, trumpet,
guitar and drums. The last two are as a result of his time in his band,
so creatively called 'The Band'.

Blaze is one of those guys that just picks up women wherever he goes.
His latest acquisition was a simpering American, bowled over by his
bad-boy attitude. She was clearly a romantic, dressed in long white
dresses and too much black and white make-up. I despised her, as did
Blaze's friend Jack.

Jack the Ripper, first human serial killer on record. Have you heard of
the perfect ratio? Something like the size of a persons head is the
same as their fore arm and the distance between their eyes is the same
as the length of their little finger etc. Whatever it is, only one in a
million have it, and Jack is one. People with the perfect ratio are
instantly attractive to both sexes and are simply beautiful.

Jack was incredibly lucky. Blaze had heard of him, and didn't like the
idea of anyone preying on people in his city other than him. Waiting
around Miller's Court, Blaze found Jack shortly after Mary Jane Kelly's
death. Jack, apparently, was smeared with blood. Blaze was entranced by
this boyish young man. He led him away long before the police arrived
and took him to 'a secret place'.

When Jack was next seen he was clear of blood and human no longer. He
was in love with his 'saviour', but not always as compliant as Blaze
would have wished. It actually did Blaze some good to have his will
resisted by one he could never have hurt. Vampires, as they grow older,
are entranced by beauty. They find it so rare that many feel it is
their duty to preserve it. Jack was the only one Blaze ever brought to
join him. Jack would not take blood.

It seems odd, a serial killer in life vowing not to kill in death. He
claims that seeing it from their point of view changed his. That's a
half-truth. Jack's lucidity is always slightly debatable. He's one of
those people whose so controlled, so icy-calm, so sane that you can't
help but feel that his sanity is only on the surface. Maybe that's
true. But why did he stop killing? Blaze. The Victorian era was full of
sexual repression and Jack suffered from it, striking out at those who
were free of the strict morals and beliefs he was brought up with. But
with Blaze, he slowly learnt to break free. He's still the only 140
plus virgin I know though.

Okay, okay, I know I said Vampires tend to die of starvation pretty
quickly, but Jack found a way around that. Dead blood doesn't hold the
same nutrients as the blood of living, not for long anyway, but as long
as he drank it before it clotted he was ok. He tended to hang around
abattoirs a lot. 'Dead' blood on its own wasn't enough, as many
vampires before him discovered, but now vitamin supplements had been
invented and as long as he remembered to breathe he did ok. He was much
weaker than other vampires, but less prone to spontaneous
combustion.

Enough about them. This is my story. Well, back to them. They'd just
finished a series of gigs in London and had decided to spend some time
apart for a bit. Translation: Jack couldn't bear to see Blaze with a
woman and blaze was sick of Jack's jealousy. They had a fight, the
first of many. Blaze took his young lady out of London. Jack seemed to
disappear altogether. I wasn't too fussed about looking for him,
really. Blaze I followed.

I'd never met Blaze in person, and had only seen him at a distance. He
was no different to any other as far as I was concerned. I was too late
to save the gypsies. Blaze and his American killed all of the adults,
though they left the children as Blaze still had a few morals, which is
more than most. His American chose the fortune-tellers caravan for her
own, and she and Blaze travelled west in it.

I only saw the inside of the caravan once, but it was exactly the sort
of thing Blaze hated and his American loved. Black gauze, red silk and
mottled velvets filled the interior, making it dark and foreboding. Oh,
and no windows. They went to Wales in it. I had to hitchhike after
them. They were the most powerful vampires in Britain.

Something to note, I'm always British. I've been black and white, male
and female, slave and master etc (as Gaia said), but I've always been
born in Britain. Part of the curse, I'm here to protect Britain. As far
as the tribe leaders were concerned the rest of the world could be
wiped out, as long as I kept Britain safe from the Vampire threat. It
never bothered me.

So I followed them to Wales. They set up camp above a lake, near a
small rural village. I took my time getting there as very few people
were heading in that direction. I found Blaze in a small cottage on the
outskirts of the village the night I arrived. A man lay slumped over
the table, dead.

"You killed him." I felt like pointing out the obvious, announcing my
presence, and making a bit of a sport of this. The travelling had made
me a little grouchy.

"He deserved it," Blaze spoke slowly and looked at me. He took off his
sunglasses and I was treated to my first look at those electric blue
eyes.

"Many who live deserve death, and some who die deserve life, Can you
give it to them?" I said, loosely quoting Tolkien.

"I made this world a better place. He raped a lot of girls, you
know."

"Oh." I wasn't sure what to do with this information.

"I saw him. One committed suicide to escape him." I had the sinking
suspicion I would have done the same as Blaze had. "I gave him a taste
of his own medicine." Well, maybe I wouldn't have been able to do
that.

"I thought you didn't rape?"

"This is the first time, and the last. He deserved it. You know of me?"
Curiosity finally showed its head.

"Yeah. Heard a bit of your music."

"Really?" He was definitely interested by now. I actually began to
blush and tugged my strapless bodice up a little.

"Yeah. I understand why they call you the barbarian. Not even Elvis
deserved that!" I waited for the attack. He was one of those with
sharpened teeth.

Instead, he laughed. I felt completely confused. Vampires weren't
supposed to do that. "Yeah. Xanthia requested it."

"Xanthia?"

"That American airhead."

"Oh, Xanthia."

He took a step forwards. "'S been a long time since I had something
home-grown. Don't you get sick of these foreigners, all over the place?
So remember when we were the British?"

"We still are." I took a step back, worried by my attraction to this
killer. My very sexual attraction. The bulge in his leather trousers
wasn't helping. "The real Britons are long dead, I'm the only one.
You're just a foreigner."

"Yeah, but these Americans? Remember the sweet English rose? The
innocent maiden, the blushing bride, the perfect wife? Not these loud,
sexually charge American women, always on top. We were a quiet,
elegant, refined people. They rebelled against us!"

I looked down at my clothes. English rose? Maybe I had the thorns,
but... "What are you on!?"

"You." You know what happened next, and I damn well enjoyed it. Damn
well.

* * *

It was nearing dawn when he left. I hadn't had a night like that for
centuries. I'd seen it coming for a long time. The early vampires, the
eldest ones, were somewhat ugly. The Vampiric blood keeps that body
animated, lets the brain live, but the rest of the body is dead.
Vampires do not heal as swiftly as the tales tell, but neither are they
likely to bleed much. Their hair and nails do keep growing, as a
corpse's sometimes do. Vampires are just less inclined to clean
them.

But now there was a new breed, a pampered, prettied-up breed, which
liked to walk in the cities and pass for human. They would dance all
night among people who had no idea of what they were. They were
becoming more attractive. And Blaze's bad-boy attitude? No one can deny
that women find that attractive, if only for a while.

During the day, vowing to never let anything like that happen again, I
walked up to the caravan. I climbed on top and with my vampire
strength, ripped several boards off of the roof. There was screaming
and smoke came up through the hole I had made. Jumping down I watched
through the now open door as the fire took hold of the shimmering
materials. Walking around to the back I gave it a kick and watched with
satisfaction as it rolled into the deep lake.

I was somewhat surprised, therefore, when I was woken from my sleep on
the mountainside my a familiar touch.

"Miss me, pet?" Blaze lived on.

"I guess I must have done, if you're still here." I refused to fall for
him as I had done the night before. He laughed. It was a deeply sexy
laugh. "So? You going to tell me how you did it?"

"I was back at that rapist's cottage. Want to join me there? Or shall
we do it here?"

"We will do it nowhere," I told him brusquely. " Do you know who I
am?"

"Dakita, vampire's predator. Your point is?" He stretched out lazily on
the damp grass, the starlight reflecting off of his pale face. His eyes
were two bright points of light.

I grinned at him. "Point?" I stood over him and held up one leg,
letting him see the stiletto point. Then I stood on his chest, letting
both heels to pierce the skin.

"Ouch! That bloody hurts!" He pushed me away and I tumbled onto the
grass. Like I said, wooden stakes aren't the most reliable of
weapons.

Removing my boots from his chest, he climbed on top of me and used one
hand to undo the laces on my top while I struggled to get out from
underneath him. I didn't really try very hard, I admit. Another damn
good night.

* * *

I found myself sharing the rapist's cottage, as it will always be known
to me, with Blaze for the better part of two months. It was one of my
best lives, though I wouldn't do it again. Neither would he, for that
matter.

I've always been regular as clockwork, and after missing two periods I
began to worry. I didn't believe I was pregnant at first, but to
convince myself completely I took a pregnancy test. And I only bloody
was!

The dead aren't supposed to be able to give rise to the living. Fact.
That's why I hadn't bothered with any form of protection. Actual fact;
vampires couldn't have children, not even with humans. I was ever so
slightly panicky. What on earth was I going to give birth to?

Then it got worse. I was working up the nerve to tell Blaze, when Jack
arrived in the village. Apparently Jack had been looking for Blaze for
weeks, ready to apologise and worried that Blaze was in the same area
as the vampire's predator. When he found out that the area Blaze was in
with me was the bedroom he didn't take it very well.

I never found out what happened. I never dared to ask. It's taken
twenty years for Blaze and Jack to make up. Jack cared for me during my
pregnancy. Jack was, and still is, a multi-millionaire. He made a lot
of money by getting out of the stock markets just before the Wall
Street Crash, and keeping the money out of the bank's reach. I had
every luxury, every doctor and nurse available to a pregnant
teen.

I died in childbirth.

Part Three
I am Amarantal. My name means 'unchanging and everlasting'. I have long
blood-red hair, like my mother. I am an orphan. My eyes are green. I
have a degree in information Technology, but I work in a coffee shop
called 'Spill the Beans'. I am, in the eyes of the modern world, a
witch.

I am the daughter of Dakita and Blaze. Blaze does not know this. I was
adopted by a very kind couple before my first birth day. I have a
genius IQ. I was travelling with my parents when we were hit by a
lorry. Both of my adopted parents were killed. They were sitting in the
front seats. I was sitting in the back seat. I went into a coma.

And me. Unchanging and everlasting.

Dakita Amarantal