Evolution

I was not quite sure that meeting Richard was best, but we were certainly beyond the point of moral apprehension. Ngozi did want to meet with him alone at first and this we both agreed was best. I studied this unique individual from afar. Ngozi was right he was not quite like us, not quite the fasting soucouyant his mother had become or the ancient vampire that I am.

He was beautiful, not in the way an artist is when creating their art or in the way a pilot who is passionate about his job is when he’s flying, this was another kind of transcendental beauty…my kind, born of extraordinary power and an ancient bloodline. Difference was, he seemed equally human and not. I could tell he was far beyond normal in his strength and abilities and I was certain that he was never sick a day in his life.

I could see little trace of his father, but there must have been something there. He seemed to have my eyes, he even looked like he could have a Caucasian father but he looked most like his mother. I remember this moment in vivid detail, the smells, the temperature, the heartbeat of his child and his wife. His heartbeat was steady and strong as they entered his mother’s house, he seemed almost calm. I remember this moment particularly because Richard was still an innocent when he stepped out of my visions as an adult, but he would never be able to go back after today and the responsibilities that he assumed because of his own evolution continues to affect more lives than he ever wanted the responsibility for…

Mentor

It’s more than two decades before Ngozi returns home to stay and she does so with a heavy heart. Richard has become a fine man and is now married, but she knows he is also troubled by dark urges and visions. In her time away she discovered the depths of the thirst that afflicted me and the strength of her own lingering humanity. She is now far from human and yet she accomplishes something that none of my kind seems capable of…she defies the thirst.

We care deeply for each other but when I am with her I am consumed by guilt and I am saddened by seeing something so strong choosing to wither when it could so easily flourish. Her stubborn resolve and love for her son is inspiring and enviable. In her eyes I still see the young woman who held so much promise as a child and I only hope she can as well.

She reaches out to me and surprises me by opening up about Richard and what she wants for him and her concerns about what he may be or might become. She has always held on to the good she saw in me and now, reluctantly, she seems to be preparing me for a role in Richard’s life. Those innocent eyes implore me.

“He’s not quite like you or me.” She says. “Whatever it is, perhaps he can use it for some good.” She needs to believe that he is not damned and so do I. “He is coming to visit with his wife.” She says, and I understand what she intends. She was tired of carrying the secrets and the guilt. He was already part of a world he didn’t know existed and now it was time to tell Richard about his blood and mine.

My Blood

She named him Richard and he was infected by my blood. The fact that my blood seemed to replace all trace of his father gave me little solace. The still unknown effect on his life seemed an unbalanced trade and indeed a far greater burden than having a violent sex offender for a father.

The boy grew strong and unique. His features were enough his mother’s so as not to cause any alarm or concern, but she was reminded of a darker truth whenever she looked at him. Something in her son’s manner and eyes, in particular, reminded her of me but she refused to acknowledge it to anyone but herself.

He would be almost eight before she brought him to the island for the first time. She tried to protect him from his history. When she spoke of the past she talked only about her parents and her sister. But she could only stay away for so long. The island called to her and I called to him. He was not only of my blood, he was my blood…

By My Hand, Of My Blood

I stayed behind and busied myself with work on the island. The frequent letters from Ngozi buoyed my spirit. I wonder if she knows what she has come to mean to me? Keeping me informed makes it easier to stay away. I hoped that in time this to would change.

The visions started when the son she would call Richard took his first breath. All at once I was transported across the world. I could see Ngozi, sweat dotting her upper lip and slicking her forehead. This was beyond the connection I felt to Ngozi, deeper. The sensations were overwhelming, as if I were physically present in the room.

I could see her, exhausted and elated, as her screaming son was cleaned and handed to her. A smile spread across her face as she looked down on him with tired eyes. His crying ceased and her smile almost disappeared behind a veil of tears.

Looking at his face my heart sank. He was very pale with dark curly hair and although he looked so much like her there was something in his eyes that reminded me of myself. I felt his innocent eyes on me, as though he were aware of my presence. And the more this new connection allowed me to see and experience the more I understood how significantly my blood had affected her son…

New Life

For someone who exists in a state of constant stasis I certainly experience a lot of change. Ngozi still cared for me but the romantic notion of what I am was gone. In a moment of terror and weakness she had seen a glimpse of the beast within the man and there could be no more illusions.

Needlessly things were even more complicated. Ngozi was carrying the child of her attacker, a child whose nature and mortality would be affected by my blood in ways that could not be predicted. My blood saved them. My blood had damned them both. But Ngozi was unique. After her assault I fed her enough of my blood to change her, still she was only near death and I could not force the transition and make her one of us. She recovered physically and was altered. She suffered the cravings, but the nightmare memory of me was the only impetus she needed to resist these urges.

We both knew she wouldn’t stay. How could I ask her to, even if I believed that I could take care of her…she earned her freedom, and a fresh start. I would take care of her home on the island and give her the space I knew she needed, but I would never be far from her. Before the end of her first trimester she left for the United States where she believed she could give her son a chance at a normal life. I was sickened at the thought, because I knew that things would never be normal for us…with me nothing ever was.