From: v100ra7t@ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu (O.G.)
Newsgroups: alt.prose
Subject: *** Gothic ***   (part three)
Keywords: The journey begins
Date: 6 Nov 92 08:25:00 GMT
Organization: University at Buffalo
News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.41

Continued -- by Olivia Granvill

CHAPTER IV -- Transition
Losing consciousness was the most accurate description of what happened to us--
my brother Stefan and myself--during those daylight hours.  We were not exactly
sleeping nor resting, and upon waking, I had no recollections such as dreams 
from that period.  It was as though at one point, we suddenly and without 
warning fell into a death-like trance during the long hours within the trunk 
in the farmhouse cellar.  At once our eyes would close and our minds would 
stop.  In the same manner, our eyes opened within minutes of one another the 
next evening.
    That first evening, I awoke to discover that I was able to see, despite the 
pitch blackness that I remembered existing within the trunk interior the night
before.  I could clearly discern shapes and forms as though I were out during 
a starlit night.  My nightvision in that darkness extended to the point where 
I could even distinguish between light and dark shadings, and the outlines of 
objects were fairly well defined.
    Lying there, I tried to make sense of this new ability.  The transformation
to a vampire, which had brought with it so much unbearable pain and unusual 
sensations, had then affected my senses of smell and hearing, as I had disco-
vered on my blood-seeking travel through the woods the previous night, as well 
as my sight, acutely sharpening all these senses that would well enhance 
nocturnal existence.  Physically, I had gained more than heightened senses.  
My body had grown surprisingly strong: I had been able to travel faster and 
farther on foot than I would ever have otherwise.  But, I did not yet know what 
other aspects of my being had been affected.
    It had not occurred to me that anything about my previous existence would 
be affected in those moments after Valerien's seduction when I had sat with my
dear brother, hoping and praying he would not die there.  My mind had been too 
stunned and preoccupied to consider what had actually happened to me.  Only 
when I saw Stefan weak and dying did I realize that I could now grant him 
immortality, and even then, the full impact of those words had not struck me.  
My greatest desire had been to keep him alive, and I had thought of nothing 
else.  But, Stefan talking of time and Death...and vampires, all that was
impressing upon me the state of our situation; what especially left its mark
on my thoughts was the incredible rate at which he had healed.  I had seen his
head broken open, and now all that remained was a scar, as though he had had
months to heal to mend.  This affected me deeply.  From my having drunken of 
Valerien's blood and my giving Stefan my own blood to drink, he and I had 
been immutably transformed--we were no longer mortal humans, no longer alive 
in the sense we had been before; we were now immortals, and vampires.  Even 
as that realization was dawning upon me, the extent of the changes in our 
immortal selves left me stunned.  It was as though we had been given 
supernatural powers, and possession of such sheer power truly frightened me.
    In effect, we had made an unwitting exchange.  It had not been made by our
own volition, but nonetheless, a Faustian bargain had been enacted: humanity, 
mortality, and morality were lost for the gains of eternal life and unnatural 
powers.  For unending existence in the magic of night, we had sacrificed 
sunlight and blue skies, and the ordinary vicissitudes of life.  I could not 
help but wonder whether the trade would prove a worthy one, whether we would
find satisfaction and happiness, or end up begging for the right to die.  At 
any rate, we had crossed the point of no return; there was no going back.
    I turned to look at Stefan, on whose hard body I lay half on top of in the
narrow trunk.  He had already awaken, had awaken before me, and his eyes were 
watching me closely.  I wondered whether he could read my thoughts.
    In the darkness, my eyes swept over him, the familiarity of him comforting
me.  I had always regarded his features as being very finely chiseled--hard and
perfect, as though they were carved from marble.  His eyes were deep and dark,
hooded by strong Teutonic brows from beneath which he observed me, his nose 
sharp and straight.  The shape of his mouth was severe, yet somehow sensual, 
and my eyes were readily drawn to them.  His blond waves were ruffled, and his
skin had taken on a luminescent paleness, which I saw on my own bared arms.
He wore a pair of light blue pajamas of a coarse but warm material, and I
realized I still wore only my long, frilly nightgown; but though the scanty 
material left me vulnerable to the lightless chill, Stefan's body warmed me.
Lying beneath my own petite figure lay his long, thin frame, and I felt the
intriguing contours of his form through the thin material.  He had always been 
quite tall while I small, and his body stretched on when mine ended.
    And yet for all that I recognized in him, there was also something new and 
unfamiliar in him, something in his face I had never noticed before.  There 
was a ruthless savagery taking form in his features, hardening his face even 
more.  His eyes never left my face, and I saw only tenderness in them for me.
Still, it was undeniable that something in him had changed.  This I sensed 
without fear or dread, for it seemed at that moment the most natural observa-
tion.  We had been changed physically inside, so it truly came as no surprise 
that we should have changed outwardly.  I wondered how I had been changed.
    Curious, I asked aloud, "Has anything changed about me, Stefan?"
    I did not have to elaborate, for Stefan had always understood me so well.
    "Yes.  I have felt such fierce protectiveness toward you all my life, but 
even more so of late, and it is not only because of Valerien.  You look to me 
--particularly when I see you in the darkness of night--so helpless and 
vulnerable, like a lost orphan or a waif.  I believe your eyes seem larger, 
and this makes the rest of you seem smaller."
    "I look more vulnerable?  You look to me more invulnerable."
    "Perhaps, that is how we've become.  The metamorphosis has done this to 
us, and that is why we need one another."
    I shook my head, feeling my hair whip at my face.  "I need you, but you do 
not need me."
    "No, you are wrong.  Know that I will always need you, Aliza!  You are all
that I love."
    The intensity of his words silenced us.  In the darkness, our eyes met
and held one another, and my heart raced.
    How I loved him!  And I understood him so completely; I knew what he meant, 
how he needed me.  He could most probably survive physically without me, 
though I seriously doubted my own abilities to do the same, but emotionally 
and mentally, he needed me as much as I needed him.  We were all that kept one 
another's souls alive.
    "I do know." I whispered, and gave his lips a gentle sisterly kiss.
    Stefan said nothing in return, but closed his eyes hard, squeezing them
shut even after I had pulled away.  He seemed in troubled thought or dilemma 
for a few moments, and I was tempted to ask him what was the matter.  But 
something in me told me to remain quiet, and I only watched during those 
neverending moments as the distress gradually passed from his expression.
    When his eyes opened, they avoided looking into mine, and wordlessly, 
Stefan reached up one arm to lift the lid of the trunk in which we lay.
    Eagerly, I left the restraining confinement and leapt to my feet, throwing
my arms above my head and stretching.
    "How nice it would be if we could build a larger box tonight."  I mused 
aloud, trying to ease the tension that seemed to lay between us.
    Stefan rose out of the trunk, and it seemed for one brief moment that he 
was a corpse rising from a crypt.  The thought unnerved me, but not as much as
did his next words.
    "Tonight, we leave Karlsburg."  His voice was low and resolute.
    Startled, I turned to him.  "Leave Karlsburg?  Leave the farm and our
family's graves?"
    "There is no other way.  Valerien will surely return, and soon."  Stefan
stood beside me in the unlit cellar.
    Silently I contemplated this.  He was right, of course.  There was no way
we could battle Valerien, whose strengths in all ways were far greater than 
our own, even combined.  And Stefan was only trying to protect me in doing this,
for it was me that Valerien was after.  The thought of belonging to Valerien--
for I knew he would possess me--horrified me beyond anything.  I could not
imagine what he would do with me, but the lack of knowledge and understanding
only served to intensify my fears.
    I remembered vaguely the power he had had over my mind, even before our one
actual confrontation by the family's grave-markers.  I had refrained from 
telling Stefan for fear that he would think me a child for this, but a fear of 
mine in sleeping alone had been awakening from horrific dreams.  I dreamt of 
wandering through dark catacombs and subterranean chambers, of demons and pits,
of all sorts of terrors.  As I recalled and thought on this, I had no doubt 
now that this had been his impenetrable control over my mind.
    He had made me a part of him in feeding me his blood, and I sensed his
powers over me had grown much stronger.  Though I was no longer able to dream
(as far as I was able to recollect), I knew he could still affect me.  And who
knew what he would do!
    Yet, for all that was at stake, the thought of actually leaving the farm 
that had been our only home in all these years saddened me terribly.  Here was
everything that we knew and understood in this world; this had been our world
which we had trusted and cherished.  Here, we had lived our lives and roles.
Here abounded all sorts of pleasant memories; here in this small village in 
the mountains we had known happiness, security, and warmth.  It was here that
all our happy remembrances of childhood were centered, all the innocent and 
gentle dreams we believed held true in reality, as well.  The world beyond 
Karlsburg seemed so mysterious, so harsh and dangerous.
    Even more upsetting was the thought of abandoning the graves of our
beloved parents and uncle.  They would be left with no one to pray for them,
or tend their graves.  They would be left all alone.  But, I also realized the
folly of putting the dead over the living.  It was very possible that if we
were to remain, not only would Valerien claim me, but hurt Stefan in the 
process, as well.  My living brother was what mattered now.  This thought
recurred to me several times.
    "We'll return someday." he said, as though reading my thoughts.  His voice
was comforting, despite its usual deep gruffness.
    "I know."  I admitted to him, "The thought of leaving distresses me, but I 
will not be frightened or sad, because you are with me."
    "And I always will, Aliza.  I will let nothing harm you.  But we cannot 
wait on this.  We must leave tonight, and tell no one that we are doing so, or
where we are going.  The townspeople must be made to think that we were two 
more victims of the killer.  We must vanish from this place and leave not the 
slightest visible trace."
    "Where will we go?  What will we do?"
    "We have to go as far from here as possible."  Then, checking the gravity
of his tone, he spoke in a lighter tone.  "Think on it: this will we our chance 
to see the world, in a way.  We will travel the world together.  We will get to
see all that lays out there."
    His coaxing tone annoyed me.  "Don't speak to me as though I'm a child, 
Stefan.  I'm not a child."
    "Very well, Aliza.  I'm sorry."
    "What will we do during the daylight hours?"
    "We will have to seek shelter before the daylight.  But, we must keep
traveling and not stay in one place too long, lest we be found."
    "Found?"  I asked, wondering what he meant.
    He did not reply directly to this remark, but meeting my eyes, said, "We
are now wanderers."
    As though we were being banished.  We were imposing exile upon ourselves.
    "And for food?  Will we hunt people wherever we go."
    "I suppose we wil eat as the need strikes us.  We will eat when we are 
hungry, and share our victims."
    "How often do you suppose we will need to feed?"
    "Only time will tell.  For the time being, our priority lies in vanishing
from this place and everyone here that we know."
    A thought drew my reaction.  "But, Stefan!  What of Andreas?  We must tell 
Uncle Andreas!  He plans on sending for us when he is settled."
    "And tell him what?  That we have become vampires who must leave Austria?"
His retort contained a hint of sarcasm which I chose to ignore.
    "No, we will tell him that we are leaving to fulfill our lives, that we
will go out to see the world and seek our fortunes."
    "Aliza, we can't."
    "We have to.  If we were to just leave and have him think we died, that
would break his heart!  He'd feel he was left all alone in the world and it 
would kill him!  At least if he thought we had grown and left him, he'd know 
that we were still alive and well, that he had not been entirely abandoned by
the living.  Oh, how can you even suggest leading him to believe that we were
dead, Stefan?  He's the only family we have left.  We can't abandon him and 
leave him all alone!  That would be so cruel!"
    I was very insistent on this point, and Stefan finally gave in.  But even
as he agreed, I saw the skeptical reluctance in his eyes.
    And so it was decided that Vienna would be our destination.
    We left the cellar and entered the house very cautiously.  It was with 
anxious apprehension that we ascended into the unlit rooms of the farmhouse, 
for we knew not what had transpired during the long daylight hours while we 
lay hid in the trunk below.  The sun had just set and the last rays of pink and
violet were fading into darkness in the sky above; inside, the house was quite
dark, with hardly any light able to diffuse into the windows through the drawn
curtains.  Still, we were not completely at a disadvantage without light.  Our 
newly sharpened senses silently guided us, and heightened instincts lead us
toward reserve and caution.
    We both knew what dangers there were.  Someone could have easily stumbled 
upon the place and have decided to take up temporary residency here, for the 
house had been left completely unattended all day and had someone broken in,
no one was nearby who could have seen or heard.  The thought of unexpectedly 
coming across a person, be he vagrant or bandit, made us wary.
    Stefan led and I held the hand he held behind him.  My grip was tight, for
I felt an inexplicable but terrible fear of discovery and the possibility of
being cornered and entrapped within the farmhouse.  Despite the fact that I
was now far from helpless against mortal men--had I not, on my own, seduced 
and killed a man the previous night in bloodlust?--my nerves now had become
acutely attuned to the sights and sounds around me, the scents and sensations 
of the unknown darkness.  The stealth of our movements belied our fear, for I
did not think we were completely impervious to mortal men.  Instinct told me
we were not indestructible, but still vulnerable and capable of being subjected
to much suffering.
    And yet, that was far from all that we had to fear that night.  With each 
black recess that we approached, each corner that we turned, my heart beat even
wilder, and my eyes grew wider.  Stefan's hand firmly holding mine gave me 
strength, and yet I was still quite fearful.  There was no need to voice the 
primary source of our deep-rooted concern, for a man, or even several men, 
would have been no match against the two of us.  But, an immortal man could 
not be so easily overcome, and such a man was returning to claim me as his own.
    But, a brief if particularly thorough examination of the house finally 
proved to our satisfaction that we were alone, and with a sigh, Stefan 
pronounced, "There's no one here."
    However, I did not release his hand, nor did he release mine.
    "We must hurry, Aliza.  Change out of your nightgown into something warm.
We would be better off traveling as lightly as possible, so we will only bring 
what we can wear on us.  We must leave within the half hour."
    Nodding, I watched him.  His eyes which had been scanning the interior of
the farmhouse as closely as those of an eagle, now were turned to me with as
much intensity.
    "Do you want to be alone to change?"
    "I don't want to be alone," was all I said.
    Together we entered my room, the small but prettily decorated feminine 
room; it was adjoined to our parents' larger room.  My father and uncles had 
indulged me all my life, allowing me the luxuries of this charming decor, 
while my mother had benignly looked on with her tolerant smile.  A wave of 
nostalgia gripped me as I looked upon my polished oak bed and bureau, the large 
looking-glass and the porcelain vase of blossoms I had picked the day before.  
There had always been many books in our house, for my brother and I had had a 
great passion for literature, which we had inherited from our mother.  My 
favorite stories were English novels, and I had a large collection of hard-
bound books on an oak bookshelf.
    At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to pick out a book and stretch 
out on my bed to read.  I wished for the leisure of peace, the peace of
leisure.  I wished the last few months had never occured, that I was back in 
the safer days of my childhood.
    Stefan brought me back from my longings.
    "Hurry, Aliza.  Change into your warmest clothes."
    "Oh, Stefan.  I'm going to miss this place."
    "I know.  So will I, but we must leave."
    Reluctantly, I went to my bureau and opened it.  I pulled out a woolen 
mauve dress and a thick, blue hooded cloak of fine angora that my mother had 
given me weeks before her death--I treasured the beautiful garment because it
was the final reminder of my mother, her final gift.  On second thought, I 
pulled out a cream-colored springtime dress, as well, along with my boots and 
gloves.  I had always been particularly susceptible to the cold, easily 
chilled, while my brother had a higher tolerance for the raw elements.
    Laying these garments on the table, I looked to see where my brother was.
He had positioned himself by the window, so that he could keep watch outside
at the same time allowing me to change unobserved.
    Blushing nonetheless at his presence, I turned to present his form with my
back and quickly lifted the nightgown over my head, and stood for a few 
moments in nothing but my underclothes.  Shivering from cold and shyness, I
noted how deathly pale I had become on my torso as everywhere else on my 
body, like alabaster or polished ivory, as I reached for the springtime dress 
and swiftly slid into the light material.
    Uncontrollably shivering from the prevalent evening chill, I could not 
button the dress and timidly approached my brother's pondering form.  The half-
moon's light was directly outside my window and cast him in its bright rays.  
In the illumination, I saw that my brother's skin had adopted a greyish tinge
to his own morbid pallor, so that he now almost looked as though he really 
were a marble statue.
    "Stefan?  Would you button my dress?"
    He turned to me as though startled out of a reverie.  He looked at me in
surprise.  "Is that all you're going to wear?"
    My eyes were fixed on his as his eyes descended from my face to my throat,
now revealed by the low neckline; I watched him as one eyebrow rose quizzically
at me.  "No.  I'm wearing a woolen dress over this, and the cloak, boots, and 
gloves."
    "Alright, turn around.  I'll have to change after this, too."
    As his long, strong fingers deftly, if rather lingeringly, worked on the 
buttons, I said, "You can change now.  You needn't wait here."
    "No, I'd feel better not leaving you alone."
    I did not give a reply, as I really had no desire to be left alone.
    It took several minutes for him to button the back of the dress and 
entirely cover my bare back with the cotton material.  Several times, I felt
his fingers touch my skin.
    "There.  You're done." he finally said.
    I left him to slip the mauve dress over the light one, and I was able to
button this one, with its larger buttons, on my own.  Before the looking-glass
I dressed, mildly surprised by my reflected whiteness, but quickly becoming 
accustomed to my new appearance; my long pale hair was undone and unkempt and
my brown eyes did look huge, making the rest of my face seem smaller, delicate
and incredibly childlike, even gamin-like; I had to admit that I did look 
rather helpless in my apparent guilelessness.  Pleased that the wool dress 
looked becoming on me--it was a lovely gown with high, lacy neckline and tight
bodice that fell to a long, flaring skirt, yet it was practical for the warmth 
it provided--I sat on my bed to put on the black lace-up boots and knit gloves,
then stood to cover myself with the cloak.  Lastly, I reached for a hairpin and
put my tresses up into a modest plait before the mirror.  Done, I turned to 
my brother, and found that he had not turned away this time, but had been 
watching me.
    "I'm ready."  My voice was small.
    "Alright, then.  I'll change, and we'll leave."
    I followed him into the large room he had shared with our uncles.  This
room had been done in dark tones, and without the moonlight which shone through
the windows on the other side of the house, the room seemed even darker.  The
furniture and paneling were all in dark oak; the furnishings consisted of three
beds, a bureau, and a set of dresser drawers.  Here, the books were organized 
atop the dresser drawers, and consisted of the sort that Stefan had always 
read: they were of scientific and historical nature, for the most part--the 
only sort of fiction he ever enjoyed were horrific Gothic novels.
    Avid readers, between the two of us, we read anything we could possibly
find, and friendly neighbors aided us in the endeavor of finding books.  We
read history, literature, geography, philosophy, science, nature, theology.
We had always done well in classes because of our love of words, though here,
Stefan was the better pupil, and much liked by his teachers.  This had been 
one manner by which we had created our very own world, for in this, we were
sometimes regarded as odd by those outside our book-bound family.  
    "Sit on the bed and rest; it will only take a moment." he told me.
    I sat myself upon the edge of the bed I knew to be his.  I could no more
bring myself to near our uncles' beds than I could have entered our parents'
room.  These things I regarded as consecrated shrines of their memories.  
Though Uncle Andreas was not dead, he was gone, lost to us forever now.  I knew
very well, even as I argued that we should see him, that he would proceed to 
age and die while we would not.  After our visit, we would have to think of him
as though he were already dead; as far as we were concerned, he would soon be
dead.
    At first, I sat only on the edge of the bed, but drawn by the comfort of
the still unmade bed, which I had only last night slept in with Stefan, I 
relaxed and reclined, assuming a more comfortable position.  I lay on my front,
with my head propped up by my forearms.
    I was pointed in the direction of the windows, though from my lower vantage
point on the level of the mattress, my view consisted of treetops and a star-
less sky.  I could see nothing at ground level, or even at eye-level, but my 
hearing was keenly attuned for the slightest sounds.
    But, all was calm outside, and my eyes grew restless.  Wandering over the
unextraordinary furnishings of the room to which I had long grown accustomed, 
I could not help but let my eyes travel to and rest upon my brother Stefan.
    I watched rather furtively, bashful at the thought of watching someone
dress, as he reached into the drawers and pulled out a pair of trousers and 
shirt.  He unbuttoned and abruptly skinned himself of his pajama top, donning 
the white shirt over his thin, but hard bare chest.  He was narrow and long, 
but I could see the strength in his muscles; his complexion, too, had grown 
deathly pale, though there was a stony hardness to his.  He wore the black 
trousers over his pajama bottoms, then reached into the bureau for his formal 
brown vest and stylish jacket, and a black silk tie; a long black coat was 
worn over his outfit.  The last thing he donned were black shoes.
    Turning to me, he announced triumphantly, "And, now we are ready to go and
make our way into the world."
    Like grown-ups, though we were not.  He was barely nineteen, and I sixteen.
Would we ever grow up?  Would our bodies mature and age, or minds grew feeble?
What did immortality mean?
    Nostalgically, my mind returned to the days when we were children, when we
could wander about the woods and fields at night without fear or dread.  Were
those days lost to us forever?  Is that what it meant to lose our innocence?
    These and other questions found free rein in my mind, and I wondered where
the answers were to be found, if they were even to be found at all.
    Stefan came to stand beside the bed in which I lay, calling my attention
back to the situation.  "Come.  We must be on our way, now."
    He extended a hand, and I took it to rise, oddly thrilled by the feel of
his strong fingers grasping me.  I stood before him and reached up to smooth
his thick blond waves, wondering at how silky his hair felt.  His eyes were
trained on me, smiling.
    "Are we being Husband and Wife?" he teased.
    "Would you want me as your wife?" I asked, my head tilting to a side as
I regarded him.
    "You are my wife." he replied, his tone grave.
    I followed him out of the room, and we bid farewell to the farmhouse, 
glancing one final time at Stefan's room, my room, and that of our parents'.  
As a second thought, Stefan entered our parents' room and removed from under 
the bed a sash of money that our parents had been saving.  "In case we ever 
need it," he reasoned.
    We walked through the parlor and dining room, no longer apprehensive of 
the darkened rooms, and left via the back door, closing and locking the door 
behind us for what I feared would be the last time.  Circling to the side of 
the house, we went to the barn.  The horses neighed impatiently as we unlatched
the barn door and entered the lightless hollow.
    "The poor things haven't eaten today." I noted, and set about gathering
bales of hay into my arms to bring the three horses.  We had long since traded
our chicken and sheep away for provisions, and all we had left were the three
horses, and a few cats who had taken up prosperous residency in the mouse-
ridden barn.
    "We'll feed them now, then take Montanus." Stefan decided as he took the
bales out of my arms to bring into the stalls.  Montanus was our huge clydes-
dale, the only draft horse we owned.  The other two were carriage horses of
smaller bearing.
    "And what of the other two?" I said.  "They'll starve if we leave them."
    "We'll let them go.  They can forage.  But we can't stay here long.  We
haven't the time for Montanus to gorge himself, though I'm sure he'd love to.  
We'll only give him a partial ration, and let him eat more when we rest."
    The decision made, the plan was executed.  The other two horses were let
out, and when Montanus had eaten a good portion of his feed, Stefan led him 
out of the stall and saddled him.  I felt a growing emptiness as Montanus ate, 
knowing that as he finished the mound of feed before him, reducing the pile of 
hay steadily, so the time we had at the farm was rapidly running out; yet at 
the same time, I was growing agitatedly anxious by the sight of the farmhouse--
it evoked mounting dread in me.  I feared Valerien's return any minute.  Our 
mission now was flight, and I both feared and welcomed it.
    But, Stefan apparently had no such qualms; neither remorse nor regret
daunted him in the least at that moment, for he was now my prince saving me.  
Swift and resolute were Stefan's actions as he led the horse out of the barn 
and mounted him.  He reached down and helped me up behind him, where I arranged
my skirt and cloak around me and wrapped my arms around his waist securely.
    And thus, we rode away from our farm in the little Austrian village of
Karlsburg, the safe haven of our childhood world, and fled into the unknown
mystery of night.

TO BE CONTINUED