Immortal Series

Immortal 1: Immortal Birth
Maricel Peraja-Arroyo

Prologue

WALKING SOFTLY on light feet, Rebekah passed the shadowed driveway towards the front doors of the darkened house with only the light of the moon guiding her way. Though she couldn't see it, she could smell the musky scent of the roses in a garden nearby. The night was so quiet, in complete contrast to the thundering of her heart. If there were any other sounds, it was in the sighing of the trees. In the distant cries of the night wind.

But she was too scared to hear them. She was too preoccupied with why she was here to be scared of anything else. Because if there was something to be scared about, it was inside the house.

He was inside the house.

She was dressed in red, as red as the blood that would flow tonight if she could get through it. She reached the marbled stairs, so aware that three steps more and she would reach the doors. She began to tremble. She closed her eyes and mustered the courage to go on. After a big sigh, she opened her eyes again, eyes that were filled with such desperation that the night sighed with her but without a sound. But then her gaze was drawn to the curtains in one of the windows on the second floor. Because they moved.

Just the wind, she thought, trying to console herself without success. A soft breeze passed, fanning her back and shoulders, moving a few, soft strands of her long hair along with it. Maybe it was the wind. But something told her this was not so. Of course not, she almost snorted. He’s waiting for me.  She gulped, the sound like thunder in her ears. There was no turning back. No turning back. Or Keith would be taken away from her and her mother. Her mother would not survive that. She has such a weak heart… with her father passing away almost two years ago… felt more like two days ago, she thought as her eyes started to fill with tears. It still hurt the same. He wouldn’t want her to do this. But there’s no turning back. She sighed again and willed the tears to go away. No turning back, Papa. Can’t turn back.

Those words echoing inside her head, she took the three steps up the front doors on wobbling feet. But in that moment, as she knowingly walked towards her doom, the only thing that was important to Rebekah was that Keith would come home tonight. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to do the same… but she couldn’t think of that now. She couldn’t think of anything that could make her run away. Run back home. Because if Keith was taken, it would just be a short while before her home would be taken away, too. And what would happen to her mother. How could she let that happen?

This was just a little sacrifice to make. Just a little, compared to what she could still keep and protect.

So she raised her hand to the door and knocked with her knuckles, willing for the demon to let her in…

THE MAN watched as the girl approached the house, his jaw tightened at the sight of her thinly veiled body on the blood-red dress. They never knew what was coming. They thought they did, but they really didn’t. This one’s as stupid as the others, he thought angrily, wanting to have a taste of the mystery, a taste of the forbidden. Hoping to catch the tantalizing promise of forever but not ever knowing the danger until it was too late. As the girl walked on trembling feet, he could see the grace of her movements, and that made the stiffness of her spine like a symbol of courage. His jaw tightened dangerously close to locking and a derisive sound escaped from between his lips.

Of course she’s scared. They were always scared. It’s their survival instinct; he would not be able to remember if it hadn’t been the last feeling he’s felt before he’d been turned. Fear… when you know you’re in danger, it comes before it could be appeased. Even when they thought they knew what they were doing. Even when they choose to do this, become a sacrifice. Fright comes. She knew she would be sacrificed tonight. They were all that, sacrifices. All his for the taking. One more for this night. One more to comfort a hunger that could only be dulled by the blood.

Of a human sacrifice.

They were all naïve, some more stupid than most. How could these humans think they would love them? They know nothing about the Blood. But years passed, and lives started to perish. Some on their side, more stupid than most, has began to cherish that which could only appease. They had forgotten to believe. There was no hope left in them.

It was not funny anymore.

Times had changed, he mused morosely so as he gazed down to wait if she would actually go through with it, or if she would flee. Every body movements he could see suggested she desperately wanted to do the latter. A part of him wanted her to run. One less stupid girl meant there’s still hope for the… what? For something, anything. Even the remotest possibility that there was something to hope for was something for him to hold onto. For thousands of years, he remained in existence because he’d hoped. That he would catch her this time. He would find her.

For thousands of years… war, famine, renaissance, religion, reason, revolution…

And she still would slip from his fingers like the soft strands of hair of someone turning away.

And what’s thousands of years of hope for an immortal?

It’s forever.

To be forever young, forever naïve, forever sure… was nothing when there was nothing to hope for. For the Blood, hope was backed by something material. The immortal kind of materiality. Of reality. Something that was seen, or heard, or observed. Most of all, something that was loved so much it lived. So he believed even when others had stopped. He believed even when others had surrendered a long time ago. He hoped because he did not want to feel angry, to feel desperate. To feel hopeless. He loved. That never faded. He kept on loving her even when the sense of it had started to elude him.

The Blood, the immortals, weren’t meant to last this long without their queen, or they would be doomed to spend their days and endless nights feeding off humans like wild animals. Female humans, daughters whose blood closely resembled that of what they needed. Of the mother. Of the lover. Of whom their sole existence depended on. Serve the Queen. Protect the queen. Love the Queen. Live for the Queen. 

She would come back. She promised. She promised me she would come back. For a moment, he closed his eyes, surrendering himself to the fear that accompanied the helplessness of not knowing anything more than that. Noone wants to believe anymore. Eternal night was fading fast.

And so was his sanity.

He opened eyes that looked out into the bitter night. There was the girl still, trembling on the steps. And for a while, pity was stronger than anger. Stronger than the pain.

He was about to turn away from the window when he saw her hesitate. Something made her raise her eyes to the windows—exactly where he stood. Straight to his eyes. To his soul. And suddenly, he could not move.

Her eyes. Her pale face. So beautiful, so scared, too human… but…

For what seemed like an eternal moment, her eyes held him there like invisible chains wrapped around his body. Commanding. Mesmerizing. Then cold breeze came and soft strands of her hair went flying over her slender shoulders the same time that a look of unmistakable determination crossed her face. There was the thinning of blood-red lips.

And then she sighed, and she was gone. He almost left the darkness to follow her, open the windows to jump down to her. But his brain remembered that she was about to enter the house… to seek him. To serve him… be the sacrifice. But he wasn’t thinking about that anymore. He wasn’t thinking about his anger and his bitterness or of hope or of love… because a terrible thirst has invaded his reality, a thirst so great it felt… foolish. He has never felt this kind of thirst except when…

Ten thousand years ago. He was on the bed, naked, all his senses tuned to another body. All his power leashed to the only thing that mattered the most.

Her smile. Just her smile.

His Queen, his mate, his love.

He reined in his thirst, his hunger, as a wave of tenderness warmed his cold heart. She was scared already. She may not even know.

It was only half of a second.

Then he was there, infront of the doors, hearing the rap of her knuckles from the other side. 

She has come!

And his hands moved to shove those bloody doors aside.