Redemption

Prologue
 
Legend said vampires didn‘t dream. The woman on the bed begged to differ.  She dreamed the same dream, and she should know. She had it every day, but this time it was different.  The images were clearer, sharper and this time she knew.  She would see it through to the end.  Finally, she would see the face of the creature responsible for destroying her life.
            Once again, she experienced the sweltering streets, the wild crowd.  She heard the taunts from a thousand throats as the three condemned men were paraded through the street.
            The blazing sun beat through her robes, made of the finest lawn.  The heat made her feel hot and sticky and irritable.
  She should not have come.  Sheer curiosity bade her slip from her stepfather’s house and make her way to the heart of the city. 
Such a fuss, she thought, over three condemned men.  What did they have to do with her?  Why had she come?
            Then, they were abreast of her and the one in the middle fell.  A snide laugh escaped her carefully rouged lips as He struggled to his feet. His eyes met her own and she looked away, not daring to look at Him until he passed. Then she watched his back as He made his way through the crowded streets, staggering under the unbearable weight. 
She turned to go. She needed to get home and get home quickly, before she was missed.     
The attack happened so quickly.  Clasped in a vice-like grip, she could not catch her breath or scream for help.  He lifted her off her feet and dragged her into the shadowy doorway of a hovel. 
The stench made her want to gag.  So did her fear.  How dare he touch her like this!  He had no right!  She would have him killed for touching her. She would see to it his death would be slow and painful.
Why oh why had she slipped from the protective gaze of Abram, her most trusted bodyguard?  She should have remained at home, tending her two small sons and seeing to her husband’s needs.  Now, it was too late.
            She was turned to face her attacker.  She raised her hand, her fingers curved like talons to claw his evilly beautiful face, but he easily overcame her pathetic attempts. He laughed at her. He dared laugh at her! Did he not know who she was? She was the daughter of a king! She was the step-daughter of a king! He would pay for this outrage!
            Looking into his deep eyes, now blazing red, she had only a moment to realize how perfect his appearance was.  Pale skin, as fine marble covered sculpted cheekbones.  Eyebrows slanted over those blazing eyes, giving him a forbidding look.  His un-naturally ruby lips gave her a smile that chilled her. 
            His wide shoulders covered by fine black robes, gave truth to his strength and she could feel his thighs, tight against her and rock hard.
            The smile widened into a grin and she could see white even teeth, then watched in horrible fascination as the canines lengthened and sharpened. 
He wanted her to see what he was.  Wanted her fear the way some want food and water.
She fought in earnest, terrified, but her puny strength was no match for his.
He lowered his head and she felt his lips on her throat. Felt those lips part and felt his teeth on her skin.
            The pain, as he bit, was unbearable and her head lolled back.  Her bones and muscles felt on fire and she could feel the loss of herself.  As her legs gave way, he held her still.
            She was dying.  She could feel her heart flutter in her chest and she knew she was dying, but just as the darkness began to wrap itself around her, she felt something sickly sweet and coppery forced down her throat.  She wanted to spit it out, but was too weak even for that small reaction.
He worked her throat, forcing her to swallow his blood, laughing as she remained in his arms, powerless to do anything but what he wanted.
The pain increased ten fold before the darkness came to her.  When it did, it was blessed relief.
            This was not the end of it.  Once again, she saw herself raise from her mourning couch.  Slipping from her death chamber, where she had been laid after Abram found her in the street.  She had heard the weeping of her two young sons.  She heard the pitiful wails of her mother when Abram laid her to rest. She wanted to reach out and console, but she could not move. 
To all of them, she was dead.
            Now, raising from this bed of death, she was hungry.  Abram stood watch, just as he always did. 
Once again, she saw the horror on his face as she came to him, touched his shoulder and turned him to face her.
Wrapping him in an embrace, she made him just like her.  She would always need Abram for she trusted no other. Nothing else mattered to her. She needed Abram, so she sired him, just as she herself had been sired.
She forced him, just as she was forced, to drink her blood as he lay in her arms, dying.
In the dream, she again saw herself drag his body and hide it until his awakening.
Returning to her death couch, she rested herself and waited.
She watched as she and Abram slipped from the palace the following night,
Thinking on the past years, she felt a charge in the air. The atmosphere around her felt different.
            Something is coming, she told herself in her dream.  The time of reckoning.