Rating Information: This story is being posted under the "Adult" label for subject matter and some brief descriptions of graphic violence. Legal Stuff: I don't own the Forever Knight characters or universe, such is my bad luck. I'm just using them for fun and not for profit. Spoilers: Up to and including "Ashes to Ashes" This story may be archived on Mel Moser's http://www.fkfanfic.com. It will also be availiable at http://home.earthlink.net/~kusine/ Thanks to Marie Thout for her comments on the first draft. I think she'll be happier with this ending than the original one. You must see "End Part 1" or you're missin' somethin'. Please send all comments, M&M's, and requests for missing posts to cerk@rocketmail.com. All flames will be happily ignored. And without further ado... ************************************* Confession 01/03 by Kusine Kaninchen "I wouldn t do that, if I were you," the stranger said calmly. The old man lifted his hand from the telephone on his bedside and laid it in plain view on top of the coverlet. It was trembling, but there was little he could do about it--he was, after all, afraid. He had awoken to find someone in the room with him, someone hiding in the shadows, someone who meant him harm. He had sat up immediately and reached to call 911, but that wasn t to be, it appeared. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice as tremulous as his hands. "I have nothing to give you. This all belongs to the Church." The stranger stepped from the shadows and into the scant light coming in through the window. He was tall and pale, that much was easily noted. His skin was almost luminescent in the moonlight, and his eyes were an unnatural yellowey-green that seemed to glow in the dim light. "I have come," the intruder said, "for what you can give me--for what everyone can give me." He closed the short distance between them and leaned close. "But you will do your duty first: you will listen." The old man stared up in horror: the creature s eyes were truly aglow with a golden fire and when the monster spoke, sharp canines glinted. He closed his eyes and began to pray. "Our Father who art in He--" A sharp blow smacked his face and rocked his head into the wall. If the prayer offended it then it must truly be a demon. After all this time, he had lost faith in their existence. That must be why it was here: to test his faith. "Stop that babbling nonsense! I will never understand how such a ridiculous religion became so popular!" The old man heard a click as the demon turned on the overhead light. "Open your eyes, priest, and look at me. I am not a demon or a devil; such fairy tales don t exist." The priest opened his eyes. Before him stood what appeared to be a man, but demons could be tricky, so he should not judge too quickly. It s hair was short and blonde, it s eyes were no longer yellow, but the blue of a summer sky. It s frame was clothed in black, and were there only a white collar, it could be mistaken for a priest. That was very likely its plan. "If there is an evil, then I am it, priest," the demon spat at him, "but not in the way you mean. I have lived lifetimes and seen more than you can ever imagine, but I have never seen your god or your devil. I have never seen a demon or an angel. They are but the fantasies of men, designed to control the masses." The priest felt his heart skip a beat in terror, and the demon smirked at him. "Your faith wanes, old man, else your first reaction would have been to that piece of wood above your bed." The creature s eyes flicked to the crucifix on the wall. "But you no longer believe that your god will protect you, do you? Where is your faith, old man?" "I have faith," the priest replied softly. "Liar!" the creature hissed, advancing a step toward him. "You are nothing but an old man, afraid of death. I have watched you these last nights. I have never seen you pray, never seen you thank your god or beg for indulgences. You are no different than the thousand others I have sent to their graves. You are not holy or blessed; you are a mortal man." The old man dropped his gaze to his lap. The demon was right. He no longer prayed, except during mass, and that was by rote, with no thought to the meaning. He had not spoken to God in a long time, and now, here was his punishment. The priest raised his head, determined to face his due bravely. He would not destroy his own soul with fear. He would go toward death with the knowledge that he would soon be with the Lord. "What do you want from me, then?" he asked the demon, looking straight into its eyes. "Your death," he said coldly. "But first, I want you to listen to a story." The monster paused, seeming to contemplate the situation. "Ironic, isn t it?" The creature barked a sharp, short laugh. "How is it one begins? Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. "I killed my maker, my daughter, and sealed her in an Egyptian tomb for all eternity. Or that s what I thought at the time, but that s another story altogether. She had wanted to violate one of the few taboos I had retained after my transformation: incest. That s such a clinical word, don t you think, to hide such an abhorrent act?" The creature looked truly disturbed by the thought and began to pace the small chamber. "In any case, the deed was done and Divia, my evil but beloved child, was gone. "For several years I wandered aimlessly across Europe, never seeing another of my kind. I thought that I was alone, though I knew that could not be. Divia had told me that there were others, though they hid themselves for safety. I never thought that I searched for another like me, but I found myself following stories of bloodless corpses and brutal deaths. "Most of these turned out to be done by mortals, but there were a few that had to be from one of my kind: bodies with punctures in the neck and no blood at all, appearing overnight. I could never track any of these killers, but, then again, flight leaves no footprints. The old man cringed: a vampire, not a demon. It was not his soul that the beast desired, but his blood. "One story intrigued me especially. There was a tale of a witch who could heal the sick and bring life back to the near dead by giving of her blood. She was rumored to be in the forests of Gaul, a place that I had not been since I had been a victorious general more than thirty years before. I decided that there would be little risk of anyone recognizing me, so I journeyed to west. "I followed the rumors to central Gaul, where I had been as a mortal to crush an uprising instigated by the remaining druids. It was peaceful now, with most of the troublemakers dead in the fighting or too old to do much more damage. Not that I cared any more: my wish to subdue the masses had left me when I realized I owed no allegiance to any emperor, any god, save myself. "Finally, I discovered the location of the witch. I had claimed to be someone in need of healing, and my pale skin was enough to convince almost all of the truth of my words. Those who refused to tell where she might be found were...persuaded. I fed well in the weeks it took for me to find her: her privacy was respected. "She lived deep in the forest, a day s walk from the nearest village. The peasants claimed she did this because she had made a pact with the wild beasts and they would not harm her. The more learned among the population believed this was to ensure only those truly in need of healing would risk the danger of travel. She saw petitioners only at night, doubling the risk involved in the journey. "Early one winter night, just after the sun had set, I hid myself in the forest near her hovel. She did truly live where no one else would, seemingly unafraid of wolves and thieves. I was still unsure that she was of my kind, so I hid until she appeared. Either she was, or I would kill her. "No lights were on in the dwelling, though that was not unusual, were she a mortal. Most of that time went to bed when the sun set, to conserve resources. However, were she like me, she would not require light to see. The building had no windows and I could see no movement. There was no moon, and the shadows on the snow were deep, even in the small clearing that I watched. My sensitive ears detected no noise, other than the normal sounds of a forest at night. I sensed no heartbeats near; after several hours, I wondered if she were dead or simply not home. "As soon as I had decided to search the hut, she appeared. She stepped from the door and for a moment, I believed I gazed into the sun." The vampire paused and stared into the distance for a long moment, then shook his head and continued. "Her hair cascaded over her shoulders--a bright white blonde that shone with an internal radiance. She had no heartbeat, and I simply _knew_ that she was a vampire. I had found who I was looking for. "She closed the door behind her, then turned directly toward me. "'Well,' she called out in perfect Latin in a bright, clear voice, 'have you sat out there long enough? I will hunt; do you wish to join me?' "I stood in the shadows a few moments longer, wondering how she d known I was there. I had been unable to sense or see her, and that had been my sole purpose for hours. I was slightly afraid--I can admit that to you, since I ll be killing you anyway--but I craved the companionship of another like myself. I advanced into the clearing and did not leave for two hundred years. *************************** End Part 1 Confession 02/03 "Figuratively. From that moment on, for nearly three centuries, we never left each other. Those years were a refuge, a haven, from life...But I didn t know that then. "She stood perfectly still, with no trace of fear or apprehension. As I moved out of the trees and into the open space near her, she smiled at me. Her eyes were a deep green and they smiled as well. She was tall, almost as tall as I, but that was not unusual for a Celt. Neither was her pale skin and hair. She looked to be about sixteen years old, a woman at that time, but she might have been any age. She wore a heavy woolen cloak that shrouded her body, though she had no more need of its warmth than I did. " Do I pass inspection? she asked, laughter in her voice. You do: it s much more sensible to wear trousers than a toga, don t you think? "I looked down at my clothing. I had become accustomed to my Celtic clothing and had forgotten that it was unusual. I pulled my cloak around me and attempted to regain my composure, though I was still unable to speak. " Oh, come on, she said, and took off straight up into the sky, leaving me no choice but to follow. "She landed in a town I had passed through several weeks earlier, one with an unusually high proportion of Romans, as well as a garrison of Roman troops. She landed outside the soldiers barracks and moved to open the door. " No! I hissed to her, finally regaining my voice. In my mind, there was no reason to kill trained soldiers when there were plenty of peasants around. " He _does_ speak! she whispered in mock surprise, and slipped into the building before I could stop her. "I followed. She fed from one soldier after another, waking them only as they were killed. Those that opened their eyes looked at her as if she were a goddess come to life. They offered their necks willingly and moaned with pleasure as she ripped out their throats. She was not neat, and within moments the scent of the fresh blood that spilled pooled on the floor consumed me, and I had very little choice but to join her. "In minutes, twenty soldiers were dead. She shoved me out the door; I was power-drunk from gorging on the blood of seven of the men. She had no such problems. She kicked the coals of the banked fire, and the straw on the ground caught fire almost immediately. She fled into the fields and I stumbled after her. "We stood silently in the snow and watched as the barracks began to burn. The townspeople never even attempted to arrest the blaze; it burned fierce and hot. Only when she had determined that our killings would not be detected did we take to the sky and return to her home in the forest. "She motioned me inside. The place was tiny and dirty, a rotting pile of half-cured furs on a wooden pallet in one corner, a fireplace full of ashes, and table taking up the remaining space. The low ceiling was festooned with drying plants, part of her role as witch, no doubt. The small, close space stank of offal and rotting vegetables, nearly choking me as I ducked through the small door. The walls were badly mortared with mud, and the frigid wind blew through in places. It was like any peasant s dwelling of the time. "My main question, other than how such a bright creature could live in such filth, was where she spent her days. The walls offered little protection from the sun, though the trees would cut out most of it. My unasked question was quickly answered when she lifted the pallet to reveal a wooden stairway into the ground. " Come, she instructed and stepped down into the black hole. "I followed. " Close it, she said and lit a lamp. "I did and turned to look around me. This was better. It was a large room, larger than the clearing above. The dirt of the walls and floor was firmly packed, almost as hard as stone. There was a proper bed in one corner with heavy draperies surrounding it, a divan and table on the opposite side of the room, and a large wooden cabinet against a wall. Tapestries covered most of the exposed dirt walls. " My name is Gwynedd, she said, stripping off her bloodied cloak and dropping it to the floor. " Lucius," I said. "With no more words, she moved toward me and divested me of my own blood-caked cloak. And, in short order, the rest of her clothing and mine. I had never had such an experience before." The creature stopped his pacing and smiled evilly at the priest. "But perhaps I shouldn t speak of this to you. You are supposed to be holy and pure--but no matter to me the state of your supposed soul when you die." The vampire resumed his pacing and his story. "What my kind does is not like mortal intercourse. We mingle blood and memories, becoming the other. I had no knowledge of this facet of our existence until she offered her neck to me. To feed from a mortal is an erotic experience, but to feed from her was...indescribable bliss. She pushed me away after only a taste, but in that short moment, I felt her first kill as if it had happened to me. I could feel the blood of the would-be thief pouring down my throat, the heat of it suffusing my body with an amazing strength and ferocity. I growled when I felt her release the body, wanting more of her, of him. "She pulled my wrist to her mouth, and after a teasing scrape of the fangs across the sensitive skin there, she pierced the skin. In my mind I could feel what she felt: my time as a boy in school, being whipped for being late. Each stroke of the lash was an eternity of pain, only to be repeated a second later. "I yanked away my wrist with a hiss, shredding the skin when she did not release me willingly. She shoved me back to the bed and...We spent the rest of the night and the day sharing blood and stories. I learned that I could hide certain memories if I tried, though I couldn t control which of the remaining ones she felt. She hid her emotions from me, and showed me how to hide mine from her. Divia had not taught me these things, but Gwynedd had no fear of secrets. "When we spoke, she told me of her life. She had been brought across sixteen years after I had been, and her maker had been burned to death when he had saved her from an army of fearful peasants who had seen her killing. That was why she took great care to hide her feeding; her rule was never too often and never too close to her home. Her gifts had developed faster and more fully than mine had. I had not realized my own potential. Either Divia had not known, as she had quickly destroyed her own maker, or she had been afraid I would become too powerful. "We stayed together in that place for two decades. After a while, not only were we lovers, we were in love. We shared all and lived only for each other. Gwynedd continued in her guise as a witch, while I developed a love of learning that I had not had as a mortal. My joy of knowledge had been beaten out of me at an early age; with Gwynedd, I recovered it. I discovered botany as well, covering the trees of our clearing with white rose vines. In the moonlight, they glowed as she did." The vampire paused momentarily with a ghost of a smile flickering across his face, then continued. "After twenty years in the same place, however, it was time to move on. We traveled the known world at the time: Europe, the Near East, Asia, Africa. For two hundred years we lived and loved with passion. We had no permanent home and stole from our victims to live, not only their money, but their possessions." The vampire smiled, his face, for an instant, growing soft. "Gwynedd literally killed for pretty dresses or finely made knives." The expression left his face and his countenance again hardened. "But, after two hundred years, we grew weary of the constant travel. Gwynedd wished to have a house of our own, and I could never refuse her anything. She let me chose the place, and I chose Rome. We persuaded a citizen to will us his villa outside the city, and he soon died from a mysterious, wasting disease, attended by his previously unknown sister and her husband, newly arrived from parts unknown. "We were far enough from the city not to arouse the interest of any one, and we had a private temple to be safe from the appearance of being Christians. We were thought to be an old-fashioned couple who disapproved of the excesses of Rome, and, in truth, we were. We both appreciated pleasure, but there really is a point where it becomes extreme. I watched the Empire become increasingly decadent, and I could see that it would not be long before its fall. "We had our house, and Gwynedd was happy. We attended the theatre in the city and became the patrons of several artists and musicians. We hosted philosophers, scholars, and travelers, though we never met another creature like ourselves. It was an idyllic seventy years. "I ruined it. **************************** End Part 2 Confession 03/03 "I had hidden parts of my past from her. There were things that I was not proud of: Divia, my childhood, and things that I didn t wish for her to see: war, prostitution. It was silly of me, really. She knew as much of the world as I did, was even a more brutal killer than I was. "She gladly tortured men she found brutalizing women or children, eviscerating them and licking the blood from their wounds while they slowly died. Ruthless politicians became toys: whimpering meals for days before she finally allowed them death. Soldiers were her favorite, however. She would slaughter whole legions, and they would praise her as a goddess, begging to be the next to die in her arms. She often hunted alone and would return home moments before dawn, dripping with the still-warm blood of her victims. "Despite her viciousness I still sought to shield her from the world s harshness. I did this not because I believed her weak or delicate, but because I wanted her to have only goodness surrounding her. I wanted only her happiness. She deserved that. "It amused her that I did this, and she indulged me. She saw no harm in letting me protect her, or at least convince myself I was doing so. She never asked about my hidden memories, though she knew about them. She never tried to get me to share them or even to tell her why I hid them. She was the most understanding person that I have ever known. I often wonder what would have happened..." The vampire trailed off and stood still, staring out the window at the darkened city. The priest had heard enough confessions to know when the speaker needed a push to finish his recitation. He found he had to know how the story ended, even though when it ended, he would die. "How did you ruin it?" he asked quietly. The creature shook his head and nodded at the priest, thanking him for reminding him where he was. "One night, I had a musician to the villa, teaching me some new music. Gwynedd thought that we sounded like slowly dying cats, so she went to the baths in Rome. It was one of her favorite hunting grounds, with an almost infinite variety of humanity upon which to feast. Just before sunrise, I sent the musician home, but Gwynedd had not yet returned. I was not alarmed: both of us had several times been caught at the baths and hidden there for the day. I expected her home the next evening, apologetic for her thoughtlessness in worrying me. I retired to our windowless bedroom as I felt the sun rise, and was asleep in minutes, pleasantly exhausted from playing all night. "I didn t awaken until it was already too late. Her fangs were in my throat and she was reliving my last campaign in Gaul: the slaughter of the men, and the raping of women; my lust as I held a woman down and raped her as she screamed curses at me in a language I didn t know. The woman who had been saved especially for the general, who stabbed me in the leg with my own knife and escaped when I was done with her...A woman who looked like Gwynedd. "I shoved Gwynedd away from me in shock, but not before I caught a memory from her: that same woman smiling, feeding her breakfast as a little girl: her mother. "She was my daughter. I had never seen it before, but I did now: her pale hair, the height of her cheekbones. If I had only _looked_, I would have seen. "Gwynedd reached for me, tears making red tracks down her face and dripping on her bare body. I threw a blanket at her and turned away. " Cover yourself, I hissed. Leave my sight, devious beast. You are no better than she was. "I was not sure of whom I spoke: Divia or her mother. It didn t matter: she refused to move. I stormed from the room, desiring nothing more than to be free of her presence. I could hear the slap of her bare feet on the ceramic tile as she followed me. " Lucius, we didn t know. It s not our fault. I could hear the anguish in her voice, but I was to angry to care. None of it matters now; I love you! " It _does_ matter! I howled at her, and escaped through a window into the skies. "My mind worked furiously in anger. I thought that the Furies were punishing me for the murder of Divia. I believed that the gods I had neglected were finally revenging themselves upon me. It was a tragedy bordering on a farce: what I had refused to one child, I had freely given to another. I had lived as husband to my own child. I was disgusted with myself...and Gwynedd. The vampire stopped his pacing and looked at the priest. His eyes were tinged red and full of an indecipherable emotion. "I didn t return. I was in the air all night, until dawn forced me from the sky. I fed from a hermit and spent the day deep in his cave. I awoke still raging and again took to the air. The pattern repeated itself for days, weeks, I m not sure how long, until I found myself at the eastern coast of the continent. I stayed there, hidden in the wild, weird bamboo forests of that land for a century, far from anyone who could carry stories of me. I knew that Gwynedd would search for me, and I didn t want to be found. "Eventually, my rage died, and I began to see that, as Gwynedd had said, it had not been our fault. Maybe it had been mine, but never Gwynedd s. She had not deserved my anger. "I traveled west. "During my self-imposed exile, the world had changed. The Roman Empire was no more, and Christianity was widespread. I was disgusted by the ignorance and filth of this new order, with its symbols that kept me at bay and burned my skin. "I couldn t find Gwynedd, and none of the vampires that I now found in each large city I visited had ever seen her. There was a whispered legend of two vampires who had destroyed themselves with love, but most accounted it a romantic tale, nothing more. Two lovers, fated to die for their unlawful passion. It s a familiar story, far older than I am. "Our house near Rome was abandoned. The local myths told of a creature hideous to look at who screamed at night. Anyone who approached the house during the day was hunted down by night. I stayed in the house for weeks, prying into all of the disintegrating corners. All of our belongings still remained, but I found no trace of Gwynedd. "I could not find her anywhere. I could not ask her forgiveness. I was frustrated, and that soon turned to anger, then cynicism. I became cold and unfeeling. That is how I am today. That is how I will remain." The priest was stunned by the sudden ending to the story. "That s all?" he stammered. "You never found out if she lived or died? You never forgave yourself?" "How can I forgive myself if I destroyed her?" the vampire asked bitterly. "I would that I knew if she were alive, even if it meant my death. My penance has been done hundreds of times, but I never have been absolved. I gave up a woman who reminded me so much of her, in the feeble hope that I would finally feel that I had paid my due." "Would Gwynedd have wanted you to do that?" the priest asked quietly. The creature looked surprised by that thought. Perhaps he had never thought that, if all he had wanted was his love s happiness, that was all she wanted as well. "I do not know...No. She would never have wanted me to love another," he said firmly. "Did this other woman love you?" the old man questioned. "Yes," the vampire answered. "So you broke her heart to save your pride?" Too fast for him to see, the creature held him by the neck and shook him. His gold eyes were wide and his fangs bared as he growled in fury. Strangely, the old man didn t feel frightened. Now that he was doing his job--hearing this immortal man s confession--he no longer feared him. Even if the creature intended to kill him, he had still come for help. "I did not deserve that love," the vampire growled. "How could I enjoy love when I had destroyed Gwynedd s existence?" The priest tried to speak, but he couldn t get air though the fingers clutching his throat. After one long, tense moment, the vampire released him, and the old man collapsed on to the edge of the bed. "I hate to bring this up," the priest said, after he regained his voice, "but have you thought that maybe you didn t destroy her? If she didn t kill herself right away, then maybe she realized that you were better off apart. From what you told me of her, she would have forgiven you instantly. She thought that you no longer loved her; maybe she just got on with her life." The vampire stood very still for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it before any sound escaped. Suddenly, he held out his hand toward the priest. After a moment, the old man realized he was meant to shake it. He reached out to clasp the cold hand. "Perhaps you are right. After so long, I may have romanticized Gwynedd. She loved me, but she was a person in her own right. It didn t destroy me, and she was always much stronger than I." The vampire dropped his hand and looked him deep in the eyes. "You have earned a reprieve, old man...You will remember none of this..." ***************************** End. Kusine. === cerk@rocketmail.com -- NA, but never recovering! FK Fan Fic writing resources at: http://home.earthlink.net/~kusine/ Do you have knowledge to share?