CREATIVE CONSULTANTS:
Simply_Cyn and Miriam Belle
EDITOR:
Miriam Belle
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
-"This is not a sequel...
What you're about to read is the final version of a previous story entitled 'Beyond Nocturne.' For those of you that have read the original version, or the first draft as I like to refer to it, you'll notice some massive changes in the characters such as names, motives and relationships. The character of Lydia (from the original 'Beyond Nocturne') is now named Renee. The only reason for this change is that I felt the name Renee suited her character better. I wrote 'Beyond Nocturne' almost 3 years ago and a lot the ideas, names and plot points didn't feel right to me anymore, so I made changes for this final cut of the book. Even the title changed to reflect the newer, darker direction of the book. I also feel I've grown enough as a writer that this version would be a better offering for the reader.
This story is longer and far more in depth. It is the story of one woman and her journey through life, and I would hope, a real scary read. If you've never read 'Beyond Nocturne,' don't worry. You can read 'Nocturnus Eternal' by itself and still get the same story only with more substance. If you'd like, check out 'Beyond Nocturne' when you're done here and compare notes.
Please note this is a novel length story, and I have broken it down into moderately short chapters. I am still in the process of finishing this final version and plan to post a new chapter every month. Your feedback is welcome. Thanks!" --bluefox07
***
THE COLOR OF BLOOD
1
Bolts of lightning flashed over the city of Sacramento like hundreds of electric skeletal hands reaching out for their next victim. Sheets of rain fell and drenched the tall buildings, streets and people alike. In the deep, manmade crevasses of the city cars slowed down, windshield wipers began squeaking back and forth methodically and those few with the foresight to have an umbrella on hand popped them open and hurried along with everyone else to their homes and offices. It had been overcast all day long, and as midday passed the flat gray expanse above them grew prophetically dark and foreboding. The unbroken cover transformed into a mass of thick, heavy clouds that rolled and churned, building up to what would be a torrential climax.
Renee Christian stood quietly in the downpour, relaxed in the outer eave of the Borders Bookstore on Fair Oaks Boulevard, her eyes alive and silent, her presence unnoticed. She liked reading the books the corporate giant sold, but more often she came here to see the people. They walked by her, each one of them consumed by their own thoughts and passions and unaware of her interest.
It wasn't all that hard to figure out what was going on in their minds, but often knowing what they were thinking wasn't enough. She needed to feel the power behind those thoughts and the emotions that fueled them. Their motives were as varied and often as contradicting as the people themselves.
Would the schoolteacher (who had just bought four large books on American History from the bargain rack to better reduce the impact of purchasing the latest issue of Playboy and Penthouse) decide to have pork or beef for dinner? Would the woman in the gray trench coat (who had just finished the amazing feat of slipping a small novel out of the store unnoticed and unpaid for) stepping into the cab actually cheat on her husband with her boss?
A young girl waiting for her ride home not more than ten feet away was deeply considering suicide over a recent abortion. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. All she could see at night now was the partially formed face of a baby she would never know, the small black pea eyes looking at her in wicked accusation. Conversely, the man behind her could only fix his eyes on her ass, lusting after her even as thoughts of his wife and children flashed before his eyes.
Renee could feel them all as they passed by, their emotional states radiating off their bodies in an unseen electrical field. The hair on the back of her neck stiffened every time she came in contact with that field. It was a physical reaction to the intangible elements composing the human soul, elements that because of her very nature, she could somehow quantify into substance where other could only see chaos. The heat of anger burned on her skin, the coldness of despair and grief could chill her and the fires of passion affected her as if it were her very own.
Renee turned away, feeling the pressure of all these people multiplying as she opened herself up to them, trying to understand them. She had once known what it meant to be one of them, but that understanding had been lost with her humanity a long time ago. It was now only a concept that came to her in dreams, and even then so fragile that even looking at it in would cause it to evaporate from her mind as if it had never existed. She hoped to find in these humans the answers to her questions.
But thus far she had rarely seen anything but anger, hate and hypocrisy. With each man and woman that passed by, she found more and more reason to forsake that understanding of what it is to be human. Occasionally, she would touch upon a child, simple and innocent, too young to have been marked the world yet. She would relish those moments, because they were few and far between. When it did happen, it made her heart beat just a little faster. With that small change, she knew she was still alive. But that never lasted very long. There was always the thirst.
The telepathy was the ying to the thirst's yang, the only light of hope in her life. She could still remember the period of autism she had endured shortly after turning. All the thoughts and feelings of those around her overwhelmed and fried her mind. It took a year to recover and adjust to her new life, but when she finally did she discovered she was one of the most gifted "seers" of the vampire nation.
Renee mastered her abilities and came to love the ability to feel other people's thoughts, and as long she never opened herself up too much to all the voices, she could amuse herself for hours listening. Sometimes, when she actually found someone who wasn't demented, crazy, hateful, sadistic or lecherous, she could almost feel normal again.
And even then, there were no answers for her.
She stepped out into the storm and began strolling around the store.
The rain splashed on her head and trickled down her porcelain face, the length of her neck and into the folds of her coat and shirt. A single drop made it past the neck of the white blouse shirt and rolled into the deep crevasse of her breasts. A shudder ran through her as the cool rain droplet warmed against her skin and then disappeared. She supposed that everyone, man and beast alike, was like a water droplet, falling, gaining speed from the infinite cradle of it's creation and then colliding with destiny. It didn't matter what happened after that because the same thing happens to every drop of rain that has ever fallen from the heavens. And when it has returned to the sky, it falls again starting the cycle anew.
It was such a cliché.
Profound perhaps, but a cliché nonetheless.
Renee paused, knowing full well now that her time had come and with a small groan she felt the thirst inside of her stir. It clenched her stomach, making her both nauseous and aware at the same time. It was so seductive in it's reasoning, trying to hide the evil of its nature by promising such pleasure and satisfaction if she would only hunt. If she would only feed.
Her hands curled into fists inside the warm pockets of her black overcoat, her mind considering the inevitable series of events that was about to unfold. She hated the part of herself that craved like this, possessed by an insatiable need to kill. It was the dark side of her nature, the downside to the vampiric virus she had been infected with.
She passed a phone both, strangely luminescent with its neon lighting and bright blue billboard sign that read PACBELL. In the reflection of the glass, she saw the lights of the streets, buildings and cars distort into an abstract world, a world in which she was the center of all things. The reflection regarded her, a questioning expression on its face as she cocked her head and looked at herself. She saw her thick auburn hair was wet, hanging and dripping from her skull, her light blue eyes still eerily bright in this gray world of reflections. Her skin was milky and pure, eternally the age of twenty-five for the rest of her life and preserved like the glass of a porcelain doll. That was she felt most of the time, empty and hollow like a doll.
Her lips were full and naturally red. Though they once had seen birth to a thousand different laughs, passing so often as to create slight lines around the corners, there was no smile to be found now. Her reflection leered a hateful smile back at her anyway.
She thought of her first kill as she looked, feeling the remorse and self-loathing that went with the experience hand-in-hand as though it were happening all over again. The memory played like an old movie in her mind's eye for a brief eternal second. She hated reliving it, but every time the thirst reared its ugly head she couldn't help but be reminded. She remembered it was raining as hard that night as it was now. She remembered standing in the downpour, feeling so hungry and scared. And then there was a-
- presence in her thoughts.
Renee glances around as rain pelts her skin, her eyes scanning the crowd for the origin of this new feeling. The urges inside her have overcome her like monstrous waves in a typhoon to a small boat. Her resistance could only last so long before she had to leave the house. Her body is not her own as she stands in the rain, waiting. Her mind races with thoughts of death and the promise of fulfillment as her newfound instincts zero in on her first kill.
She slowly turns and seeks him out in the ever-changing sea of people. She can see his face as being broad, strong and with kind eyes. She can almost taste the blood pumping through his veins, as though she had just bitten him. She hates the idea of drinking the blood. It repulses her even as the thirst cries out for it. She can already tastes the metallic sweet flavor as his footsteps grow loud in her mind, separate and distinct from those around him.
He is so close.
Her heart pounds as she searches the crowd. She walks further down the street and realizes he is within a foot or two of her. An electric sensation snaps and arcs through her body as gooseflesh rises across her skin. Short, shallow breaths escape her lungs as her mind reaches out for him and touches him. Renee licks her lips as her thirst becomes intoxicating. She knows she should not do this, that she should fight it and resist. But it tempts her with such promises of fulfillment that her tired mind begins to reason and negotiate.
And she is so hungry.
He is irresistible as she watches him walk by her, a bundle of books and papers under his arm. He looks out at the rain and shakes his head as he mutters something to himself and buttons up his dark pea coat. A matching knit cap is pulled down close to his skull and compliments his eyes. The man is tall, at least six foot and has dark features, eyebrows and a goatee to match the pitch black of his clothes. Like her, he clothes himself in dark garments to better blend in with the world around him. He does not wish to be seen.
He stops under the outer eave of the Aladdin Theater and makes sure his books are dry and secure.
Renee watches him, trying to subdue the rabid thirst building inside her in her stomach and flaring to her limbs. He has no malice in him, no anger. His is a simple heart that desires only the simple things in life. His blood is pure and untainted, a life force untouched by the essence of another woman or man. Renee cannot believe that a man like this, despite his beauty, is a virgin.
The thirst is becoming unbearable as she walks over to him, observing her prey. She runs her tongue along the edges of her teeth in anticipation. She hates the hunger within her as she hates the relentless manner in which it has slowly broken her spirit of resistance. Ever since the bite, ever since she knew what she had become, she had fought the thirst off. Telling herself that she was losing the battle was only an exercise in redundancy. The battle had been lost the moment she stepped out the door of her home and began wandering.
