The Stirrings of a Cold Heart

As the sun lit up the skies of London, the interiors of Osrik House were safely dark keeping its inhabitants snug in their death-like slumber . . . almost. Erik found himself standing on a hillside with the sun shining down on him. The sky was a bright blue with hardly a cloud. The grass was a lush, brilliant green carpet beneath his feet. His first instinct was to find cover before he turned to ash, but then he realized that he wasn't burning. He felt warm and the air smelled clean and fresh.

"How is this possible?" he asked out loud, then realized he could hear his voice as it had once been. The whispered tones he had become so accustomed to, were gone. The pain he felt as the broken pieces of his larynx rubbed together was gone. He felt his throat and the deep scar was gone. He was whole and alive. Joy and exhilaration filled him and he quickly threw off his layers of clothing until he wore only his breeches. The grass was cool and soft beneath his feet and the sun was warm on his body. Like a boy he ran up and down the hills shouting his happiness. He started up another hill only to stop as he heard sweet laughter. His eyes turned in the direction it came from and found Aidan sitting in the grass watching him and laughing. He ran to her and pulled her into his arms. "I don't know how this is possible, but here we are. The long night is over, Hades has released his grip." He kissed her lips eagerly, afraid to lose even one moment.

As they held each other, the sky suddenly went dark and a cold wind blew through Erik. He looked up and saw dark threatening storm clouds overhead. He turned to Aidan and horror went through him. Her eyes were lightless and sunken in. Her warm lips were cold and blue. As he laid her on the ground her head rolled to the side and he saw the mark of the vampire on her neck.

"NO!" He screamed and sat bolt upright in bed. Another dream and this one was no mystery. Aidan had brought light into his life and had made him feel alive. His bite and blood had destroyed all of that. At least that was how it seemed as another week passed so much as a smile from her.

The vampire rubbed his face, then as his eyes adjusted he realized that he was not alone in his bedroom. Aidan was standing at the foot of his bed. She was dressed in her night clothes but had covered herself with a wool blanket. She looked at a candle that sat on his dresser and willed it to life, bringing a slight glow to the room.

"I heard you moaning and came to see if you were alright." She sat down next to him on the bed and took his hand.

"It was only a dream," he answered.

"Are you sure? It sounded more like a nightmare. You're shaking." She ran her hand along his forehead and cheek. The image of her as a corpse was still quite vivid in his mind and he wanted to be sure that the person before him was not just another illusion. He reached out and touched a lock of her hair then on impulse he pulled away the wool blanket she was wearing as a shawl and looked her over. His eyes studied her through the silk and lace night dress for a moment before she managed to pull the blanket back up around herself. His hands encircled her waist and he pulled her closer to him. She was real and not the corpse he had seen in his dreams. He saw her face flush slightly at the way he held her and it intrigued him.

"If there is nothing that you need, then I will return to my bed." Aidan started to get up but he held fast to her.

"Stay with me," he asked, brushing back a lock of her hair..

"I can't," she answered.

"Having you here eases my mind and drives the bad dreams away." His fingers gently untied the ribbon at the top of her night dress."

"Mr. Ambrose . . ."

"My name is Erik. I see no reason to use titles." He knew well that the rules of propriety changed with time and within the walls of his home he would follow his own way, not the conventions of an era.

"A man and woman would never refer to each other by first names except in marriage, and then only in absolute intimate privacy."

"We are not bound by the rules of society, do you understand that? We are alone in my bedroom with you in your night dress and me in considerably less attire. How would you define intimate privacy?" Once again, she flushed in embarrassment and her blanket shawl tighter. He stopped her and held tight to her hands. "Do you still hate me?"

"No sir," she answered. "I never hated you."

"You deny it, but your eyes say, 'yes'." He leaned close and pressed his lips to her eyelids. "Your face even says, 'yes'." He then pressed his lips to her cheeks. "Your lips have not said it yet." He captured her mouth with his. His kiss was gentle at first then increased with ardor. Quickly she pulled away and left the room. My God, she is strong willed, thought Erik.

Unwilling to risk another such dream, "Le Coeur Noir" never went back to sleep and throughout the day and throughout the following night he remained in a restless mood. He had tried to ease his agitated state by feeding on a vagrant earlier that evening, but it didn't help. His dress coat, tie and vest lay haphazardly on a chair. His mind was filled with the recollection of his dream and although he felt his initial analysis was correct he felt a measure of hope after hearing her say that she did not hate him. It was certainly no guarantee that she would ever be the same woman he had taken to Minsden Chapel, but it was something.

Lost in thought, he walked by her bedroom. A flicker of light showed through a crack in the door capturing his attention. He stopped before the opening and peered through the space. The room was lit by two kerosene lamps that filled the darkness with a warm glow. Aidan suddenly crossed before the doorway, unaware that he was even there. Erik watched as she sat down on the bed and removed her shoes, then slowly slid off her stockings. At the sight of her shapely legs he became more restless than he already had been. He had only vowed to stay a moment, but as more of her hidden treasures were revealed to him, he found that he was riveted to the spot. Gracefully she stood and unfastened the back of her dress, allowing the silken material to fall to the floor at her feet.

Sucking in a gasp of unneeded air, he watched as her small fingers untied her corset showing her light silk chemise that revealed more than it concealed. Erik's eyes became a hungry green and he could feel his fangs begin to lengthen as she removed the chemise exhibiting a flawless body. Fate had not only given her the soul of an innocent, but the body of a temptress. Fate, he had learned over the centuries, was rarely kind. The lamp light bathed her creamy skin in a soft, ethereal glow, and made her auburn tresses turn to molten fire. Oh, to explore the myriad curves and valleys of her perfect countenance! It would be the only heaven that a damned creature such as himself would ever touch. Erik mentally shook himself, and once more concentrated on the vision before him.

Aidan walked a few steps to the wash stand, picked up the pitcher and poured the water into the large bowl. Using a cloth that lay beside the pitcher she began to wash herself. As she drew the cloth over her neck, the ancient vampire could so easily imagine his fingers in the place of the cloth, or his lips. He could feel himself growing hard watching her and longed to bury himself in her pure flesh. For just one moment he wanted to lay with her bare flesh to bare flesh as mortal's do and forget the fact that he was no longer human. He wondered what it would be like to hold her, flesh against flesh, and feel her body pressed against his. He wanted to drink in her blood and have her do the same to him. Erik fought back the urge to throw open the door and take her.

Her delicate hand laid the cloth down and moved to a perfume bottle that lay near it. It was a rather unusual bottle in that it was a ball shaped blown glass with a black iridescent coloring and it sat in a brass web-like stand. She took the long glass stopper from the bottle and ran it along her soft skin and down between her breasts. Erik groaned quietly to himself at the sight of her innocent flesh and the smell of roses that reached his sensitive nostrils. Carefully she placed the stopper back into the bottle and picked up her silk lace nightgown. The unknown watcher shuddered involuntarily as the expensive material slid over her voluptuous form. Before putting on her matching robe, she removed the silver comb from her curls and let them cascade down her back. This simple action made Erik grasp the doorframe and physically restrain himself from entering the room.

He could see that he would get nowhere with this train of thought, and he pulled away from the door and all that was within. When he looked down at the door jamb, he noticed deep grooves where his fingernails had carved the wood. This was getting way out of hand, and quite frankly, it frightened him more than a little. He raised a quaking hand to his brow and it came away with several droplets of blood. He had to regain control! It was not in his nature to be human. He had long ago renounced those ways. He went down to the drawing room and sat down at the pianoforte. Hoping to channel the unholy agony inside him, his fingers lightly moved across the ivory keys.

The melody filled the rooms and traveled up the stairs and through the bedroom door to Aidan, who sat brushing her hair. The music was beautiful and her keen mind quickly dissected the notes. Though she couldn't recall the name, she recognized that it was the work of Johann Sebastian Bach. She set her brush down and putting on her robe, quietly went down to the drawing room. Listening to the music she began to hum harmony to the melody of the pianoforte. Abruptly Erik ended his playing and closed the lid over the keys. His shoulders were hunched as if bearing a great weight.

"You play beautifully, but if you'll forgive me for saying so, your music is lacking in something. You play in a methodical fashion but there is no passion." she mused. Erik flinched at the word.

Oh, if only you knew, he thought. Choosing not to answer, he passed behind her, careful to keep his telltale eyes from her and left the room.

Afraid she had offended him, she followed him down the hall to the billiard room trying to apologize for her description. She had intended it to be a discussion on style and music, but she feared that she should have chosen her words more carefully. Erik was not concerned about her opinion of his musical abilities. He simply didn't want her to see his growing desires, not unless she shared them. He stopped before the large elaborately carved billiard table and picked up the cue ball. Casually he rolled the white ball on the table while keeping his back to her.

"Have you ever played?" he asked.

"No," she answered.

"Let me teach you." He placed the many colored balls in their triangular frame, then making sure that they were properly placed on the table he removed the wooden surround and put it away. To show her the proper stance he decided that he would go first. His long pale fingers held the long wooden stick and carefully moved it back and forth for the shot. Still seeking reassurance that she hadn't offended, Aidan continued her apologies.

"I shouldn't have spoken so plainly. The truth is your playing was beautiful, it seemed to lack heart."

"There is a reason for that my dear." Swiftly the stick moved and hit the white ball with a loud crack. "When you become a vampire, you have lost all humanity, all passion . . . all things that make you mortal." He handed the stick to Aidan and she tried copying the stance she had seen him take. Erik stood next to her and adjusted her position.

"Is this because it is so, or because you deem it so?" she responded, unwilling to accept his view of things.

"I know the nature within us. We put on fine clothes and pretend to be civilized, but we are driven by our desires. When we hunger, we feel it through our every fiber. It calls to us and burns in our blood. It will never stop until we answer it," he whispered against her hair, pulling it back. The thickness of it spilled over his hands, like blood. Sensuously, he kissed the back of her neck. He could feel her tense up, see her face grow flushed and sense the heat brewing inside her at his touch. "I think we understand each other."

Aidan responded by knocking a solid red ball with the white one making a loud crack. Stepping away from him and going to the other side of the table, she looked at him with a fierce look. "Are you hoping to satiate the passion in me through your prowess as a lover? You will never master me." She could see flecks of green in his eyes betraying his own need for her.

"What exactly are your plans? Will you create your own convent? I can see it now 'Our Lady of the Blood Virgin'." He laughed then looked at her with a smirk. "You would be very lonely."

"It would be better than giving myself to one as heartless and soulless as you." With her words spitting venom into the raw wounds of his flaming need, he snapped the cue stick as though it were only a twig. With a low growl, he went to the window and opening it, he hurled himself skyward. Aidan casually went back to the drawing room and began to play the pianoforte.

The music pouring from the ivory and ebony keys was exquisite. All the agony, rage and pain lay naked in the notes for all to see, especially Erik. Unaware of their connection the music poured from her fingers, directly into his mind. The sheer madness of it drove him down to the wharves, to the line of prostitutes in the dark alleys as they waited for sailors to dock from their various vessels. From his vantage point in the air, he used his preternatural vision to seek out a particular shade of scarlet hair. If he could not satisfy his hunger with her, then a whore would do.

He finally found one who matched his requirements and landed discreetly behind her. From this range, he could see that she was filthy and stank of cigar smoke, sour whiskey, and sex. She huddled pitifully beneath a thin fur stole that had looked better on the animal.

"Bloody cold," she muttered. The prostitute rubbed her arms against the chill wind from the bay. Too wrapped up in the music still pounding in his empty veins, he barely noticed the condition she was in.

"Perhaps I could help you with that," Erik said thickly, his need outweighing caution. Startled, she jumped and came up against the hard wall of Erik's chest. Her fingers curled around his upper arm as she steadied herself. Any reply she might have made was cut short by the small gasp of pleasure that escaped her lips as his fangs immersed themselves in her more than willing flesh. He could hear the pulse of her heart as a twisted beat to the cacophony of Aidan's final notes. He could see her in his mind, standing at the window, and smiling softly to herself.

All too quickly, he felt the life-blood drain from the whore in his arms and in a fit of a dark rage he snapped her neck. He walked away, letting her drop to the ground in a shapeless heap. As a foghorn sounded in the bay, he dropped a coin at her feet for services rendered. In his mind, another red-haired beauty invaded. He would have her. Maybe not this night, nor the next, but he would have her. Make no mistake about it.