Chapter 61 #2
“You misunderstand me. Orpheus has brought you closer to God.”
“I’m going out of my mind!” I said.
At least I’ll have company.
Fabian smiled patiently. “Our friends are wonderful to have around. They make us laugh and bring us joy. However, our enemies shock us awake so that we look to God for answers. As such, our relationship with Him deepens. We awaken. Orpheus has brought you pain and you brought him pleasure. Such opposites are as light and darkness, illusions that we attempt to define and place into categories. But they are as one—undivided.”
“Does this mean that I must let go of Catherine?” I asked. “It’s just not going to happen. I won’t allow her to stay with Orpheus.”
Fabian leaned forward. “When we hold onto something or someone, whether it is a person, a memory or a passion, suffering arises. It’s not enough to fall in love. We must become love.”
“This isn’t for me.”
“In time, this will be your guide.”
“Perhaps.”
“Consider my words,” he said.
“My head’s spinning right now. Fabian, please give me Sunaria’s ashes.” If he even had them.
“Patience.”
Forgive me.
“No need,” he said.
“Are you the oldest of us?”
Fabian smiled.
“So many secrets,” I said.
“And even more than that.”
I desperately tried to fathom his words. “What does it all mean?”
“Of one thing I am certain.” Fabian’s voice was firm. “That the truth lies within love. No greater love is there than one who gives his life for another.”
I pulled back. “It’s too much.”
“Trust the process. You have proven yourself worthy.” Fabian rose. “Wait here.”
He withdrew.
I turned my gaze toward the tapestries with their stories frozen in time.
I understood why Fabian had kept himself hidden away all these years, safe within the walls of this clandestine castle.
Fabian was indeed correct in his assumption that immortals everywhere would beg him for the ashes of their loved ones.
I understood that not every vampire would take the ashes and use them wisely.
Was I intending on using Sunaria’s ashes wisely?
I realized I would have to restore Sunaria to her full form, otherwise Orpheus would not believe me that the ashes were hers.
How, I wondered, did one rekindle the ashes of a dead vampire?
Fabian reappeared. “Like a phoenix, rising from the ashes!”
I jumped up and stared wide-eyed at the large urn that Fabian held, ornate with Egyptian drawings.
“Sunaria will arise,” he said, “and once again walk upon this earth.”
My heart beat so fast, I feared it would burst out through my chest. “Did you know her?” I asked.
“I did. Inevitably she will return to her true love, Orpheus. She was known as the Sumerian. A princess. She was beautiful, and with her alluring gift she seduced Orpheus. Your father destroyed both Orpheus’s maker and bride.”
“How do we reverse this. . . ?”
“It takes the blood of two vampires to create the correct environment to resurrect such a being. We will offer up the spell with our blood and relight the spark of life that rekindles. Have you the stomach for it?”
“Just tell me what I must do.” I approached Fabian, ready to follow his commands and for the incantation to be over with.
Fabian tipped the urn upside down allowing the gray ashes to fall onto the long walnut table.
I stood by Fabian’s side, eager to assist. When the urn was empty, Fabian placed it onto the floor. He removed a knife from his coat pocket and cut into his wrist. Blood poured from the gaping wound onto the center of the mound of cinders.
He smiled. “Your wrist.” Fabian placed the knife against my flesh and cut.
I clenched my jaw as the pain radiated from my wrist and up my arm and into my shoulder.
Eyes closed, reluctant to see where the knife had penetrated. The incision stung. “Done?” I asked and opened one eye.
My blood splashed onto Sunaria’s remains.
A wave of dizziness crashed over me, sudden and consuming. My bright lifeforce gushed, frothing where it landed on grey remains. Each red cell shimmered with something ancient, something divine in its torrent.
A spark, or something dangerously like one, flared to the ground, subtle yet unmistakable.
The ashes around it bubbled and twisted, as though stirred by breath not of this world.
Something was waking. Something ancient.
It coiled with a shimmer that looked achingly close to magic—raw, unearthly, undeniable.
It was happening—now.
After all the waiting, the desperate hoping, the relentless search for answers . . . this was real. Unfolding before us was a brilliant swirling light, vivid and almost blinding in its intensity.
It pulsed, vibrant and alive, becoming something sacred and terrifying all at once.
I could hardly breathe.
“How long will it take for Sunaria to rise?” I stared at the table and cringed at the sight of our seething blood becoming a womanly form.
“Well, it’s been a little while since I last performed this ceremony, and to be honest I didn’t exactly have a timepiece then.”
“Dear God.” I sighed.
“Do you detect it?” Fabian said. “It’s your friend, she has company. It appears she needs you.”
“Ingrid?”
“Orpheus. He is with her. We must hurry with Sunaria before Orpheus does something rash.”
“I can’t leave without her.” I stared again at Sunaria’s ashes.
“Go. I will deal with her. When she is raised, I will send her to Orpheus. Hurry.”
“Will you be all right here with her?”
“Quite safe. Sunaria will be well behaved with me. You know where to go?”
“Stonehenge,” I said.
Fabian nodded. “I have enjoyed our time together and hope we will see each other soon. With all that said and done, I ask only one thing of you. I have lived here undisturbed for many years. Tell no one of my whereabouts. This I ask of you as a friend.”
“You have my word,” I promised.
“One more thing, Jadeon. When the storm hits, stay centered and you will prevail.”
Great. Another cryptic message.
I headed out.