Caleb's Turn

Tangent Universe entry Round 8 ~ Musical Prompt: Falling Slowly by Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova

         He watched as she painted, her hands sure and her strokes bold.  The face that appeared on the canvas was familiar and he knew it well, for it was his own.  The straight blond hair with a cowlick near his forehead on the left; deep blue eyes; a slightly crooked nose; full pouting lips and a deep cleft in his chin, all set into a pale oval face.  Caleb had no idea how she knew his face, but he had watched her for days… since he’d awakened from the strangest slumber three months earlier… and she always painted the same portrait.

         Sometimes she painted while tears slipped endlessly from her soft blue eyes, other times she raged at the portrait and tossed it across the room.  But each and every time she completed a painting, she threw a bucket of black paint at it, marring the visage and ruining her work.  Every room in her apartment was overflowing with ruined black portraits.

         Caleb didn’t know why he was drawn to this apartment or this woman, but every night he’d watch her until the pink of predawn would beckon him away.  He could no longer tolerate the sun, a strange affliction that he’d noticed upon waking.  The extended slumber that had held him had done so many odd things to him that Caleb felt as though he were in a constant state of readjustment. 

He knew he’d had a life that had been different, but the memory of it was so distant and vague that it was difficult to place anything.  He remembered the warmth of the sun and soft hands touching him; he remembered laughing and running, but now it all seemed like a fuzzy dream.  Now the sun was an irritant that made his skin blister and smoke, the smells around him seemed magnified and there was a strange and constant beating in his ears that was always magnified when he was around large groups of people.  So Caleb chose to stay near the suffering woman whose moods seemed constantly at war.  It was quiet, just the soft beating in his ears that was soothing and her…

         Caleb wanted to go to the woman and assure her that everything would be okay, but he feared her reaction to seeing him as her pictures were always of his face.  He had a desire to hold her, but no idea why. 

         As Caleb watched, this night like so many in the last three months, the woman was weeping as she painted, her misery wrenching at his heart.  But unlike the other nights, she was singing an eerily familiar song that pulled at Caleb’s memories.  He closed his eyes and swayed slightly to her voice.  Images began to surface in his mind’s eye, foggy as if they were being drawn from a deep well.

         A soft, graceful hand reaching for his; a tinkling, female laugh surrounding his name; the feel of a warm and very feminine body pressed to his.  The song evoked such strong feelings in Caleb, he knew that somehow it had meant something very important to him.  Pink began to stretch across the horizon just as she flung the black paint and Caleb took his leave, his heart heavier than ever before.

         He returned to the place that he’d awakened, his instincts telling him that it was a safe haven for him although he had no idea why is was or why he needed one in the first place.  Caleb was shocked to find another man lounging in the elegantly appointed room with its seventeenth century chaises and settees. 

         “You know, it’ll do you no good to dwell on the past,” the man said in a cool voice.  He was tall, judging by the way he took the entire length of the chaise he was relaxing on, with dark wavy hair and fathomless eyes that looked nearly black.  His clothes were old, possibly from the turn of the century, Caleb couldn’t be sure.  And his manner was arrogant and knowing.

         “Who are you?” Caleb asked warily, his blue eyes never leaving the man.

         “My name is Henry von Wiernes,” he replied.

         “How did you get here?”

         “I live here… I own this place.”

         “Where have you been if you live here?” Caleb asked skeptically.

         “I’ve been away.  I’m sorry I was unable to be here when you woke.” Henry said cordially, his manner and tone haughty.

         “How did you know I woke here?”

         At this question, Henry began to laugh and all of the hair on Caleb’s body stood on end.

         “Because I brought you here.”

         “Why did you bring me here?  What did you do to me?” Caleb asked, unable to keep his voice steady in his trepidation.

         “Because I made you.  I gave you the ultimate gift and made you eternal like myself.” Henry smirked arrogantly.

         “Eternal?” Caleb breathed, his unease growing.

         “Yes, Caleb.  Eternal.  As long as you obey some very simple rules, you will live forever.”

         “Rules?”

         “Yes.  I’m sure you’ve already figured out that the sun is unbearable to our kind.”

         “I have,” Caleb replied, then his brow furrowed, “Our kind?  Just what exactly are we?”

         “Oh come now, Caleb, surely you’ve guessed!”

         Caleb stared at Henry his consternation growing and his mind reeling.  Henry began to shake his head in disgust.

         “I took you for someone smarter, Caleb.  Do you not hear the beating of human hearts when you are around them?  Do you not smell the glorious blood that those hearts are pumping?  That blood is your lifeline now.  You must feed upon it in order to survive.”

         “You… you made me a… a vampire?” Caleb stammered in horror.  He grew dizzy at the mere idea.

         “I did.  You’re welcome.” Henry’s arrogant smile widened.  Caleb staggered to a settee and sank down trying to wrap his mind around this news.  “I see that this shocks you.  You’ll grow accustomed to it and embrace it… but only if you abandon the past and leave the woman be.”

         Memories began flooding Caleb’s mind at the mention of the woman he’d been drawn to… who’d repeatedly painted his face and thrown black paint at it.  Her name was Isabelle.  She was his wife, the one person he’d ever loved.  He’d been hurrying home to her the night that Henry had stopped him on the street and asked for directions.  Caleb remembered a brief conversation then everything had gone dark until he’d awakened here in this place.

         “Caleb!” Henry’s impatient voice broke though the dazed and dizzy onslaught of memories assailing Caleb.

         “What?” Caleb snapped, his temper rising at the injustice that he felt had been done.

         “Have you fed yet?” Henry asked.

         “Fed?” Caleb frowned, his confusion returning.

         “Yes, fed.  Have you indulged in the blood of a human, drank the life essence that will complete your transformation?”

         “No.”

         “You must.  Tonight.  I do not care if you kill, turn or just feed, you will do it tonight.” Henry declared and Caleb gaped at him.  “This is not something you will debate.  It will be done.”

         Caleb nodded, knowing that he could not deny the need now that he was aware of it.  It seemed as though as soon as Henry defined his current state, the smell of blood assaulted his nose and the beating of distant hearts grew louder.

         “Good.  Now sleep.  Tonight you feed.” Henry said, standing and dismissing Caleb.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

         Caleb stood in the shadows and watched at Isabelle wept, her hand flying over the canvas.  He felt a strong desire to comfort her once again and knowing what he must do, he stepped forward.

         “Isa…” he murmured softly.  Isabelle screamed as her brush fell with a clatter and she whirled to face him.  She paled dramatically and staggered against the wall.

         “Cal?  Is that you?” She whispered, her soft blue eyes wide and terrified.

         “It is.”

         “But… but I saw you… you were dead…” she cried, her tears falling harder.  “Are you a ghost?”

         Caleb moved a few steps closer.  “No darling Isa, I’m not.  I am not dead and I am not alive.  I am just… well, I’m just here.”

         “What does that mean?”

         “It means that I have changed and while I am not the same man you married, I can help you.”

         “Help me how?”

         “I’ve watched you.  You’ve been miserable and I know it is my fault.  Every night you paint my portrait and every night you throw black paint at it.  You’ve cried and raged and suffered.  I’m so very sorry for that.  If you want, I can cease your suffering.”

         “How?  If you aren’t alive and you aren’t dead… how?” Isabelle asked as she stepped closer to him.  Caleb, still drawn to his love, pulled her into his arms and she collapsed into his embrace.  He relished the feel of her in his arms again even as the beating of her heart and the smell of her blood flowing through her veins enticed him and made his mind fuzzy with need.

         “I can either make you like me… or end you…” Caleb offered hesitantly.

         “End me?  Like kill me?”

         “Yes, darling, so that you no longer suffer.”

         “Cal, all I ever wanted in this life was to be with you,” Isabelle wept.

         “You choose to have me turn you?”

         “I just want to be with you… please whatever you have to do…”

         Caleb felt his need pulsing through his body and his canines lengthened.  Gently his kissed her then giving her no chance to change her mind, he sank his teeth into her neck.  Isabelle sagged in his arms, her eyes closed and her body seemingly lifeless.  As her essence flowed through him, Caleb felt a surge in his strength.

         He lifted Isabelle and lovingly cradled her as he returned to the place that Henry had taken him, placing her on a chaise.  Caleb gently caressed her cheek.

         “Sleep my darling, I’ll be here when you wake.”

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