Luka raced into the manor, the rays of the sun beating at his heels. He slammed the door shut as small sparks started shooting off his footwear where his feet now blistered briefly from the contact. He heaved a sigh of relief as he maneuvered downstairs to where the coffins rested, knowing his feet would take care of themselves while he slept. Seeing that Stephanos was already occupying one, he slid into the other, mentally moving the cover in place; he lay down and closed his eyes. His last waking thought, one of hope that everything would work out for the best.
"Luka
?" He heard the whisper of Stephanos' mind.
He sighed, knowing what was in his thoughts.
"Very well, Stephanos. I will tell you what I know of Danijela's death."
"Thank you, Luka. She haunts my dreams at times and I would know that she rests easy."
Muttering imprecations at losing rest, not holding Nadia and of running around the countryside on fruitless missions because Stephanos couldn't control his woman, Luka began his tale.
Eighty years ago...
"I had been out feeding on the local peasantry when I sensed something was amiss. My ears pricked at the perceived dangers swirling in the vicinity. I tried ignoring it, but it disrupted my concentration enough that I had to seal the wound on the strapping young man I had come across and to take to the skies in an effort to locate the source of the angry wails. This was not grief, this was feminine outrage. As you know, I was still honing my listening skills, distinguishing between who had need of my services and who was behaving as humans are wont to do."
"Her shrieks were ungodly. They permeated the air, scenting it with her terror. It was then that I realized they were still several miles away. A sense of dread I have never known came over me! Danijela was in Srebreno with you at your seaside villa, having left with you the week before. I panicked, I can admit that now and lost my concentration and fell to the ground, spraining my elbow. It did not deter me; I shot off towards your villa."
"What I faced there..."
Luka shuddered in his repose, memories of that fateful night unspooling in his mind. Memories he had repressed for fear they would drive him mad. Memories that had fueled his hatred of Stephanos. Memories that were laden with his own guilt over not being able to save Danijela. Memories of his failings as a brother and a friend and as a man. Tears formed pure crystalline drops that trekked down his cheeks and his quiet sobs were causing his shelter to rumble with distress.
Stephanos, silent and still in his own thoughts, empathically shared grief and with his mind touched Luka's wounded soul. He was not looking to probe while Luka was mired in anguish, but to heal the small fissures on his brain that this dark night had created and that had altered Luka as a man. He could see the damage wrought, the twisted neurons, the broken synapses that were in response to the passing of Danijela.
Throwing caution to the wind, he rose from his own tomb to go to Luka's. He shoved the cover aside and climbed in with the weeping vampire. Closing the lid once again, he wrapped his arms around Luka, sending him a healing light. Its path entered through Luka's left arm and traveled north, past bones, sinew, tissues and muscles. It journeyed the byways of his blood, swirling around his spinal column, past his cerebellum to the anterior cingulate cortex to inspect the harm. Warmth suffused Luka's being, but was fixed and concentrated as Stephanos probed. The light was pale green with a tinge of lavender, its tiny shoots starting with the beginning of one disrupted fissure and moving to the tangled mass beneath. Slowly the surface was smoothed and long dead synapses sparked to life. The brief electromagnetic pulses that Stephanos was employing renewed life to the malnourished parts of Luka's brain.
For a long while, they rested together as Stephanos directed the light to repair the damages. Luka was quiescent as he felt the residual effects of grief being washed away. This was not an attempt to erase the memories, but of healing the ragged nerve endings that had been frayed. The green pulses were to represent growth, a regeneration of tissue stimulation. The lavender to assist Luka with his spiritual healing.
Stephanos knew that he should have sought Luka's permission first, but he could not bear the pain of his suffering any longer and took matters into his own hands. Once he felt he had done all that he could, he slowly withdrew the light, careful of Luka's emotional state. Luka was drained by the experience and his recent revelations, and feeling bereft of the light. Knowing that they were both beyond endurance, they called a halt to the memories so that they could rest. Luka slipping into the surcease of sleep with Stephanos still having his arms wrapped around him in comfort.
*****
