Chapter 14
“Orlando? Orlando!” I shout, gripping his hand.
Orlando shows no signs of recognition, he’s merely lying there unmoving. I jostle his shoulders, but he remains still.
Did he perish this close to salvation?
I no longer hear his exhales, nor the rushing of his essence. His blood’s ghost is still visible, but I know it remains even once a mortal’s life has been extinguished.
“Please, Orlando. Just one more instant.”
I continue to dig as quickly as my limbs allow. My nails are crusted in soil, from which pieces splinter off every time I encounter a rock or a root.
Crouching in the midst of nearly a dozen shallow holes, I desperately try to find the exact spot Orlando had described.
Frustrated, I abandon this section, then turn around to burrow at another site.
The grass is ripped to shreds quickly, the clotted soil underneath is cleared in two swipes.
Suddenly, my fingers graze something solid.
Might it be another forsaken root? No, it could not be, for it was too amorphous.
Desperately, I claw at the dirt surrounding it. A round, soft shape slowly appears.
A pouch!
“Orlando, it’s here,” I exclaim, but the man does not respond. Nonetheless, I refuse to give up so close to salvation.
I drag him by his arms until he rests beside the new discovery. Leaving the pouch unheeded in the dirt, I remove his gloves, tossing them carelessly to the side.
First, I place the so-called stick between his fingers. Then, holding it closed, I drag his hand to the edge of the shallow pit.
I close my eyes.
This will work. It shan’t be too late.
I let go of Orlando’s fingers. They open reflexively, and the artifact drops into the hole.
Nothing happens.
I place his translucent hand on his chest. Perhaps if I removed the bandages, it would take better effect?
I unwind them swiftly, placing Orlando’s effects beside him.
Still, no change takes hold of him.
I desperately try not to despair, for the longer he remains afflicted, the more I fear for his fate.
How did I come to care for this near-stranger so quickly? At first, it was mere curiosity, but then—I haven’t cared for another since I was turned. But here he was, this strange man. Utterly captivating.
My mind conjures his image as he appeared before me when he consumed my ichor. I cannot deny I was mesmerised. He was beautiful in a delicate way—not in a soft manner, but rather intense, like ancient cliffs along an icy sea.
Yet it was not that. Beauty, after all, didn’t suffice to captivate me.
There was something about his demeanour. Perhaps the lonesomeness in his voice? Or was it the yearning in his eyes that made me feel seen?
But of what use are these sentiments while he remains lifeless before me?
Is there no other hope left?
No. I shan’t accept this fate. Perhaps, if I were to share my essence? I do not know if my ichor has the power to revive the dead.
I swiftly remove my coat and unfasten a cuff—but wait.
I glance at Orlando.
A flicker.
I cease to blink, hoping my eyes did not deceive me.
There!
Between the unbuttoned shirt, it appears.
Infinitely faint. Finer than a moth’s wing.
Bones.
Ever so slowly, they unfold.
Long, thick bones conjured from a crimson fog.
The outline of a body.
A heart. Still and unmoving, it awaits within a delicate cage. Lungs blossom incarnadine until they cradle it carefully.
Sinews wrap themselves around marrow, deep red muscles crowd the space between. The transformation takes place before me swifter than mortal eyes can comprehend.
In awe, I watch, and I wait.
Then skin finally writhes over every limb like greedy parasites. Faded chamois, scattered with freckles like a map. I want to touch them, but—
Long, dark lashes frame closed eyes. A delicate moustache over a full lip. Wavy hair curls around too-big ears.
Then, one ragged exhale as if it were his last.
No. His first.
His nostrils flare and then all of life begins in unison.
A beating heart. Air rushes through lungs. Eyelashes tremble. Lips part.
Orlando’s eyebrows furrow, as if roused from a pleasant dream. His eyes open slowly. Dark amber-hued and brilliant, they search the sky. When they find me, I cannot help but smile.
“Good morning, Orlando. Did you sleep well?” I say.
He only stares at me, perplexed.
“What?” His voice comes out in a croak, as if he had not made use of it in centuries.
“Darling, you died for a bit, but it seems you’ve returned from the dead.”
Orlando’s brows furrow deeper. It looks utterly charming.
“Can you sit?” I ask, offering my hand. He takes it and, with his other, pushes himself off the ground.
Relieved, I forget myself, wrapping my arms around Orlando’s chest.
He groans in pain. When I let go, he wavers slightly but stays upright.
“I must apologise, I was so—”
“I died?” He interrupts me.
“You had no pulse. No breathing.”
“Everything faded, and suddenly there was nothing. Not darkness, but absence,” he says, sounding dazed.
I have so many questions. I wish to know everything he saw and felt, but even in midsummer, the early morning chill bites my bare forearms bitterly.
“I want to hear everything, dove, but you must be thoroughly frozen.” I drape my coat over Orlando’s shoulders.
A strange look flashes across his eyes, and he gazes at me in a way that constricts my chest.
“Behold what you found,” I say, wrenching the half-buried object from the pit.
His eyes widen when I place the small pouch on his lap like an offering.
“You found this?” he asks.
“No, it was you. I merely followed your directions. Had you dug a bit more after finding your stick, you would have discovered this.”
He carefully brushes the dirt from the leather. It looks minuscule in his hands. Once he pulls at its fastening, the pouch falls open.
Orlando gasps.
An assortment of golden coins, shining as brightly as if they were newly minted, lies on his lap.
Orlando stares silently at the treasure. Then pulls a hand through his hair, covering his face. Seconds pass. Then minutes.
I give him time to recover, wondering if he might be weeping. When his fingers move away, I see no tears, only pure shock on his features.
Finally, he takes one of the coins and holds it to the sun.
“I wonder how old they are? I’ve never seen anything like it,” he says, presenting it to me.
The moment my eyes fall on the intricate relief of the coin, my breath halts abruptly. I stare at the object in Orlando’s palm. My pulse quickens, and I feel as if unfed for millennia.
With trembling fingers, I unfasten my collar. I pull at the chain resting on my chest. The very chain that had been in my possession for over a century.
I unclasp it, silently handing it to Orlando.
He corrugates his brow in confusion, but takes the pendant nonetheless.
Orlando’s quiet gasp joins the early morning’s bird song.
Without a word, he spreads his arms with open palms. In each hand sits an identical coin. Their only perceivable difference is one looking utterly untouched, whereas the other is unequivocally worn.
“How?” Orlando whispers in disbelief.
I drop to my knees beside him. A sensation fills me. It begins deep within my core, then expands quicker and quicker, encompassing my being.
The absurdity of the situation claws at my chest. I’ve searched for answers for more than a century, travelled to countless places across this earth to find the knowledge I sought.
Though venturesome, my life was a solitary one. I spent this past century in the shadows. My only distraction was watching the world from afar.
Never in my long life could I have foreseen this. A mere stone’s throw from my second life’s dawn. How could it be?
A laugh escapes me, bright and delirious.
Perhaps, this is the beginning of a new adventure?
Orlando regards me so utterly confounded, as if he’s witnessing my slow descent into madness.
A smile parts my lips. I set my hands over his, covering both coins. “Orlando, I’m certain it was by no chance we found each other.” I clasp his fingers firmly. “For that coin in your hand was given to me by my maker.”
“What?” he says, staring at my hands on his. “The maker of the coin?”
“No, darling. My maker. The man who made me into the creature I am now. He bestowed it upon me shortly before his eternal death.”
“Oh,” he says, a bit bashful. “Would you tell me about it? I would like to know more.”
“I would, dove, but it’s a long story.” I let go of his fingers, putting the chain back beneath my shirt.
Orlando’s lips part into a wide smile. With eyes full of mirth, he looks utterly charming. “I live far from here, and I don’t live alone, but we could go to mine, unless you prefer your own abode?”
Remembering my own words from mere hours ago, I can’t help but laugh at his repartee. I jump to my feet, then pull him up before me by his hand. With a brazen wink and a grin, I respond. “Let’s go to yours.”
The End