the living room talking and laughing, I felt a warmth
that made me smile. Just being there and listening to everyone
catch up completed my first night back. I felt I could actually
call Chantonnay home again. I experienced no fear, only the
strength gathered from those around me. But soon the conversation
went in a direction I wished it hadn't. Eme became the
topic.
“She has been acting in a
bizarre manner for some time now,” Lacroix began, shifting in his
chair. “I cannot figure it out.”
“Elijah, you haven't
experienced any waking dreams or visions have you, since you are
the only other ancient?” Lacroix asked, taking over the situation
and trying to understand.
Elijah shook his head, “No,
I haven't.” He paused. “Maybe I should spend some time with Eme. I
hope she isn't afflicted with waking dreams. They are too horrid
for anyone.” Elijah lowered his head. I knew he still felt shame
from his lack of strength against the Blood God–his sire–four years
ago when Elijah had become incapacitated by him.
Elijah stood slowly. “I
will go to her now. Goodnight all,” he said. His shoulders sloped
with the weight of concern as he left the room.
“Do you think after having
lived for so long, Eme is finally ready to die?” a small, quiet
voice asked. Everyone turned in the general direction of the
voice–it was Brenna.
As I laid my eyes upon her,
I knew she had waited to ask her question until Elijah left the
room. But no one answered. I had heard of that before. When a
vampire felt they have lived long enough and did not want to go on
with their preternatural life, they’d find a way to end it. Not
unlike an elderly human who is ready to die, so that they might be
with their mate for all eternity in heaven. But in our case, who
knows what awaits us? A wonderful life in hell with those we love
so dearly?
“No one
would wish upon themselves an early death!” Lacroix finally said,
breaking the silence. In his mind, killing one’s self clearly could
not be an option for anyone. Ultimately, the choice we made in the
long run was to live. To live until there is no more living to do.
I began to wonder though, how would we know when there is no more
living to be done? We can live our lives but be dead inside. Are we
supposed to be our own judge of when we should die? Be our own god
and decide when our time is up? A shiver ran through my body. I was
thinking about this too much. I was beginning to frighten myself.
Mylana knew of one of our kind who had killed himself with the rays
of the morning light. He had decided that he was ready to meet
whatever awaited him. Maybe we are the ones who ultimately decide.
The crash of a door from
the second floor shook us from our morbid thoughts. Eme flew down
the stairwell with Elijah close behind. She ran through the foyer
and into the cold winter night with nothing but the clothes on her
back.
“Eme!” Elijah called out.
He stopped at the door, going no further. He knew he should just
let her go, as much as he hated to. Elijah returned, his eyes
rimmed with red and his face solemn. I could tell he had been
weeping. I hated to see him like this. He looked up from the floor
to meet our confused stares and began to speak.
“She...” Elijah began with
trepidation, “she thinks she is ill. Eme feels hunger unlike
anything she has ever felt." Before anyone could respond he turned
and left the room leaving us in an uncomfortable silence. Not
knowing what to say or how to interpret what had just happened,
everyone separated and headed to their rooms.
I followed Mylana to her
bedroom. Away from everyone I felt a little more at ease. In
Mylana’s company I had a sense of security. A silly notion really,
but nonetheless very much needed. Elijah’s concern for Eme was
already starting to consume him and I knew even if I were with him,
he wouldn’t be there mentally, only physically.
“We must continue with our
nightly routines and not let this distract us,”