Exile

I exiled myself from the islands that I had grown to love and where I had felt truly at home. Before I could return I needed to embark on a quest to purge the world of others of my kind and anyone or thing that would stand in my way. When I allowed my reason to resurface I knew it was unlikely that Elizabeth was a part of Antonio’s plot, but her absence spoke to either her death or consent. Antonio though, was my primary focus. Before I had re-made him, he was content with his work and life on the island. But he had been unhappy for some time and seemed to long for a location more befitting of his supernatural status.

It was easy for Antonio to return to Spain, but he would risk chance encounters with family and acquaintances from his previous life. Passage to England was even simpler as ships left Port of Spain every week for the colony. Antonio was well prepared. I know this because I had delivered goods for transport on a ship he was most likely on. His attack was cunning, brazen and unexpected. Were I not his target I might even have allowed myself some admiration. His intent was not only to kill, but to inflict as much pain as possible and he was successful. I had paid a hefty price for underestimating him. The counter though, is that he too had underestimated me and that mistake would also be fatal.

He knew that if I survived I would have to put my ‘house’ in order before I found for him. I was definitely enraged, but I was also very pragmatic. I had considerable land holdings and financial interests and understood the importance of these matters in my protracted existence. Antonio understood this as well and had stolen enough from me to make, another, new start for himself. Two weeks after Kayla’s death I boarded an ocean liner for Port Elizabeth, England.

The weeks spent on the open sea were challenging for me. I had controlled my blood lust for nearly two decades with Kayla. Satisfying my bloodlust within the confines of a floating hotel, without arousing suspicion was infinitely more difficult. I wish I could say that I didn’t feed, that a number of persons are not resting at the ocean’s floor as a result. But this is not a work of fiction.

What makes my particular condition unique is that I struggle to recapture a humanity that moves further beyond my grasp with each passing moment. I no longer have the ability to have casual experiences, to compartmentalize…I am present and clear in all that I do and everything I experience. I have total recall, which means I can never escape my actions. I see every face in my dreams and sometimes I am not even asleep when I have these visions. It is the invisible price we pay for our abilities and for me the most difficult to manage.

As we neared Port Elizabeth the scent of salt in the air mixed with the scent of food, body odor and something beyond human. More powerful than any other smell was the scent of others…like me. It was more than just a scent, which I cannot describe beyond calling it familiar. It was a knowing that profoundly affected my being.

When we docked, I gathered my things and couldn’t shake the feeling of another attempting to make contact, trying to plant an image in my mind. England was indeed better suited to us. The consistent gray cloud cover and the cooler climate imitated twilight. Still, I preferred the Caribbean or at least this is what I convinced myself.

I could feel my chest tighten as I walked along the dock. The emotion felt like fear, but it was something else…anticipation. I turned and caught the gloved hand that was about to tap me on the shoulder. I released the hand and stood perfectly still, astonished by the sight before me.

“Hello Nicholas.” Elizabeth said, bowing her head.