Awakened Dawn

1820: Steam and fog mixed with the early humid winds as they swirled through the bustling morning streets of New Orleans. Humans humming and thrumming throughout their busywork. This was one of the most honest times of the day for the little species. Their most dedicated and faithful workers were up, while the masters of the town nursed whatever spirit had bitten them in the parlors or the bars of the city. While the light of dawn proved painful to my kind, I still forced myself to watch the bustling of the break of day. All the flow and the blood pumping and thrumming in time around me like my own personal feast. Even as old and wise as my people are, we have basic predatorial instincts like every other apex predator in the wild. The main difference being we have chosen to learn how to live in obscurity and hide amidst the human pack. We don’t kill without justifiable cause and we don’t condone the waste of precious human life. We have extremely self-serving reasons for our stance. “Mum, you’re going to ruin your sight if you keep at this.” Abigale, my tender younger twin daughter told me. She was just shy of her sixteenth year. If we were humans, this might mean she was already looking for her suitors. But mercy upon me, we are vampyr, and we do not often search for our eternal bonds. They find us in their own time. Being that we never age much beyond eighteen years, I have already been forced to pretend to the world that these are my little sisters and not my daughters. “Abigale, go shutter your window and bed down for the night, my child.” My voice was soft but stern. I was the matriarch of my line, and none except my own blood-born children dared to speak a cross thought against me. “But ‘tis morning, naught the night, Mum.” Abigale pointed out, and I turned and arched an imperial ginger brow in question at my youngest child. Mercy found harbor in my heart, for it had taken me over three-centuries to bare my daughters. I was gifted with Abigale who was just like me, ginger and completely spirited like a wild mare, and Alexia, named for her human father, Alexander Smithfield. Alexia favored her father. They were twins, but not the kind who happened to look identical. Not that any mother born could ever see their children as duplicates. To me, their differences were vast and highly pronounced, even if most of the world at large would claim them to be similar in spirit and temperament. “‘Tis night for all that lives by the darkness of night, my daughter.” I told her, and Abigale snickered at me, and said, “That sounds a bit redundant and possibly conflictual to the laws Sir Newton presented us with.” My clever and cheeky child quipped to me, and I felt my bloody vision flash red in a warning. It was an instinctive response as a seasoned apex being. I am not one to tolerate challenge lightly, however, I am discovering parenthood has tempered my wild Irish disposition ever so slightly. “Off with ye, Lass!” I dismissed her, and she decided she had pushed her poor mum as far as she intended for the night. I was certain my child would rediscover her jolly spirits at my torment in on the morrow. “You’re too stern with them.” I heard Alex as he walked up. He was the girls’ father, and he knew now that I had lain with him sexually for four straight months, simply because it was finally my cycle of fertility. Outside that window, I had no need or desire for the company of men. I just needed his seed to give life to my womb. “Alexander, remember your station here. I give you all, but never forget that I am the Lower Queen of the Vampyr of the Celtic people. Beholden to none, save fer her co-Ruling King of Britannia residing in London.” I reminded Alexander, not that I flung my station in his face often. The young man was now thirty-eight. He had been about the age I appear when we met. Our girls desired their daddy, so I brought him into the vampyr tribe as a human confidant. However, such intimate knowledge of my s*x seemed to let slip the weight behind my every word and whim. “Of course, forgive my loose tongue, Lower Queen Mavis Aubrey.” He bowed to me, part of it tasted of mockery, but I decided not to call him on his subtility. Alexander desired to be what I was, this was not lost to me. However, the tribes rarely bring in humans and the process is potentially fatal to the vampyr themselves. As Lower Queen, I am not allowed to risk my life on such a flight of fancy. “There have been growing numbers of malcontents outside the gates of the estates, My Queen.” Alexander informed me, and I nodded to him and looked out, past the yard, then the fields. Out beyond the cotton fields and the orchards. Beyond even the farthest grazing herds of my cattle. My eyes came upon a cluster of local farmers and other various seasoned men of their crafts. They were furious because a young woman ruled over these lands and managed them better by far than any other estate in New Orleans. Add to that the fact that we employed and protected freed slaves and refused to practice the unseemly cultural ways of mistreating dark-skinned humans. (These humans clearly have not grown up next to Darken Fae, to know just how diverse that lot gets! Which makes the skin color thing exceedingly illogical from my or any other vampyr’s point of view. Beyond all else, we find blood tastes better when it is not imbittered by misery and oppression.) “Indeed, it appears they have themselves a rebel-rousing leader of some sorts. This happens on occasion, the menfolk get enough spirits in their bellies and they set their ire upon the wench ruling her own little fiefdom.” I told Alexander, and he hesitantly nodded his understanding. “My Queen, would it not be wise to try to keep them dispersed?” Frowning at the suggestion given question, I shook my head. “Nay, ‘tis the lads being rowdy. If I go off in full keg blast every time they were showing their public disdain for me, I’d never get any work done, nor would anyone on these lands. These folks have handled our presence here for over a hundred years now, so they will keep themselves on the other side of that fence.” (The few who didn’t, ended up vanishing without a trace and not even a banshee could find them to wail for their deaths. Not that I shared this sordid bit of fact with anyone.) Being born a Vampyr of high-birth had made me learn how to decern threat levels. I could smell a truly violent thug before he managed to romp and fuss or do damage to me or mine. After all, if we simply killed everyone who disagreed with us, we’d be like the slave-driving lot of the southern plantation owners. Even my kind was far nicer to our prey. We learned a very long time ago not to kill the blood font, simply to extract what was needed, which is about a chalice full a day. Humans are a deep mystery to me, how they behave and how they perceive themselves. “Alexander, I will keep my best men on the gates and the various points one might use to enter my lands. I never dismiss danger so close to our precious ones running about at night.” I told him, and he nodded stiffly and turned, walking back into the house. He had plenty of reason to worry, considering his finite life experience. He’d lived first as a wealthy farm owner’s son, and now as the father of the heirs of the entire Aubrey holdings. My name and wealth were not at all insubstantial. In fact, I was certain I possessed more earthly treasures than I could possibly find a use for in any number of my lives. With all my wealth came the burden of watching over every soul under my land and my banner—such as it was. I was born in a time where every house held a crest, and the Aubrey name meant something in Ireland. We were ancient Celtic, as sure as the mortal Celtic peoples. We lived in balance amongst the druids and the fair folk most of the history of our lineage. “You should have dismissed that human years ago, My Queen.” The deep, rocky tone of my old friend Olaf sounded. He had been the vampyr of the Viking lands, come to conquer with their raiding parties. Now, he was my most faithful servant and one of my only true friends. “He’s the girls’ father. It is bully for me. I required his manhood to make them, but even his insufferable prattling is worth the reward of their delightful countenances.” Olaf grunted a masculine affirmation. He had one single soft spot in his entire persona, me, and by extension, my daughters. To all else, he was a brute and a bit of a bully. “It’s not wise for one so great to keep someone so self-involved this close.” Biting down on my lip lightly, my right fang protruded from my mouth. “He’s hardly so troubling as to warrant this appraisal. Not to worry, I will keep him in line, and he will eventually even out with age. It is mainly youthful exuberance that bursts forth from him. Even now, he is a young man still, even by human standards. Many of his age would only have wee children with a blushing young bride, barely past her first cycle.” Olaf gave a loud snort at this, and he seemed to agree for the most part. “I am off for a fortnight, My Queen. I will travel across the Mississippi to tend to our interests with the native folk. They promised us unhindered hunting paths, but only if we keep more White folk from bothering them.” Olaf was still a bit of a stranger to my people, so he knew how to deal with sensitive matters like people as close to nature as the indigenous people of this dark, wild continent. As far as I considered it, they had much more right to be angry with us than was being displayed. Sure, there were constant struggles and plenty of folks disappeared on both sides, but I’d not witnessed much unilateral warfare on their part. My heart broke as every conflict drove them further from their original homelands. Being here from the inception of this American continental experience, I had a far different memory than that which was being retold as our history. “Bring them offerings and give them every honor and dignity. I too will venture out to speak with their elders and chieftains when next we meet them. Continued kindness and honor may keep them from war.” Olaf was no stranger to battle, yet he too found himself ill at ease with the thought of conflict with the neighbors. My interests backed up to their territories, what was left of them in this area. I hoped to keep this as a buffer between them and the rowdy youth, like the ones eyeing my free workers as they began their days. “I’ll leave Jack for the guard of the estate, My Queen.” Olaf told me, and I nodded in agreement. “He has his father’s heart. I think he will prove to be a fine captain one day.” Olaf grunted and said, “Here we don’t have knights or captain of knights anymore. We just have shape-changing Lycans and terribly angry Indians.” He left me with that morbidly amusing final thought as he raced off to begin his journey. Olaf was ever a glutton for punishment and was known to travel by day, despite how brutally painful the sun and mid-day heat could be to our kind. *** Rest was turbulent and I felt almost as if I was amid a forming windstorm. The air was charged overly ripe like the most terrifying bolts from Zeus’ spear being loosed upon mankind. Ominous clouds loomed overhead, and the vanishing light seemed dreary. Nothing of the once bright and chipper morning remained. Sounds of buzzing were dampened by an unearthly quiet. The chaos of the nearby bustle was muted out. No manner of beast seemed to desire to make itself known or heard. I paced through the bedroom, snagged a proper black dress, and changed from my night clothes. I combed my hair enough to release the red glossiness and luster, then I was out the door. Both my teenage daughters were already up, their constitution tolerated the sun’s brutality far keener than mine. Children of vampyr and humans were still full-blood vampyr, but sometimes they seemed to have exceptional solar tolerances, thanks to their human parentage. My species was once confined completely unto darkness until the ancient ones of our lines discovered breeding with mortals strengthened the blood. This also gave rise to a much more pro-human mentality in our ranks, revering all life, and not simply slaughtering and storing their blood in cold dry places. My kin had once used the very snow and ice of the northlands to freeze and store their blood. My mother spoke of blood snow when I was a wee lass. It was one of the few stories I remembered her telling me before her mysterious passing. My father had been away traveling abroad, off during one of the Crusades. He was a stranger to me, yet mum spoke fondly of him, often telling me I came from the darkest of bloodlines. She spoke reverently of the kin of my father, yet I never did learn his name, nor did anyone seem to know of whom my mum had mated and conceived me. I took up my mum’s family line and her name for my own. I was Mavis Aubrey since the time of her death in a mortal riot in early Dublin. There was no evidence that being vampyr caused mum’s death. She was simply in the wrong place at the wrong moment in time. We were immortal, never aging beyond the look of our twentieth year. Yet we could be killed via beheading, destruction of the mind, or destruction of the heart. Mum was impaled with a broadsword during the riot. Emotions in the city were heated after the assassination of James FitzGerald, Eighth Earl of Desmond. Nothing made people as paranoid as a calculated murder. It reminds everyone that no one is ever truly safe. Unfortunately for a young vampyr princess, that included me. I was eight years old, barely able to properly sustain myself without my mum hunting and gathering blood for me. “Mum, tell Alexia she can’t wear that dress!” Abigale exclaimed. I massaged my temples. I had barely set foot one outside my threshold, and behold, the dramatic performance of my darling teen daughters had already begun for the evening! I came into the dining room, the source of the disturbance. Abigale was pointing at Alexia, who was wearing a bright red dress which would have accented better on Abigale, because of her red hair, but still complimented the older twin perfectly keen. Being their mother, I knew well that I had purchased the materials for this dress and custom hand-stitched it for Abigale. However, both twins were of very similar proportions, even if they were not identical in appearance. “Mind your blood Abigale, and let your sister have her turn with it. You often take a hand to her wardrobe.” I said in a very neutral tone, trying hard not to sound as if I were coming down on Alexia’s side. Then I turned and gave Alexia a stern look and placed a firm hand on my hip. “Alexia, you will go ask your sister before you borrow one of her dresses next time. Both of you will communicate like proper twins and young ladies!” I said, and they both shared a mildly sullen look at the mild chastisement. I was a fun-loving lass in me bones, yet I always seemed to be carrying the full weight of the world and all the vampyrs of my area upon my slender shoulders. At three-hundred-and-forty, I felt as if I might be more ancient than the tides and the sand. I may appear a year older than my own children in looks, however, that says nothing for the weight of responsibility and the many lives held in the balance with my every whim and passing fancy. Such is a terribly sobering realization. “Yes, Mum…” Both girls parroted in one voice. They were extremely good at coordinating their actions and statements when they wished to. Like most siblings, I suppose they did find their truest friend in the world was the other, even if they did squabble terribly at times. Being a mother of vampyr young seemed very scantly different than human parents. I’d come to observe just how similar the behavior and the emotional ship ride were for both species. Lycans were also fairly similar, even if they had different types of animal aspect instincts in their behavior, similar to the vampyr, but different species entirely. “Finish your blood and we’re going to be working in the storehouses today. We need to update the inventory before winter rolls in this year. Abigale, I will lock you in your room if you go wondering after that carpenter boy again. And Alexia, don’t flirt with everyone who moves, for the love of all that is holy!” I stated. My two girls seemed to treat this entire state territory as if it were their personal mate-finding court. I was hoping they would ride out these destructive urges and manage to reach maturity without being joined to the wrong being for all time. Many a young woman I knew in my age of youth and stupidity had become anchored to a deadweight immortal mate. Some even thought it an exceptionally innovative idea to marry fae, and then they were stuck with court drama for all time. I, however, learned early to manage my feelings and urges with my tactical little flings. Besides, it was much more difficult to arrange s****l liaisons when you only had taste for females outside your birth cycle. Many parents considered same-s*x loving children as a curse or their sin to carry to the grave. I personally would welcome it in my girls, considering I would not have to worry half as much about the male aspects of their sudden interest in sexuality. “Mum, when exactly do you plan to allow us to make up our own decisions as far as dating and courtship?” Alexia asked, and I huffed and said, “Let’s just try to get you to your twenties without any major issues or bodies to bury, and we will take things from there!” I told her honestly, and both girls seemed to look to one another as if consorting against their horrid old wench of a mum. Some days I could honestly forget why I worked so hard to have them when they forever tested every nerve and sense in my body! However, even a second look upon their perfect forms and their lovely and lively behavior and I was once more a happy mum. “Where’s Olaf?” Abigale asked, and I smirked and said, “Your Uncle Olaf has gone off to meet with the tribes again. Hopefully, we will be able to share peaceful hunting grounds with the tribes and avoid overhunting the same patches of woods as the other various groups of our own region.” Alexia nodded and Abigale shot from her seat. She moved quickly towards the door in the living room, heading outside. We were running late to start our chores. The girls were going to spend the day helping in the kitchen, but I decided I wanted my twin shadows with me, watching my work. I needed them to know how to perfectly do my jobs around here, in case I needed to travel for courtly matters. As the Lower Queen, I was often called to handle disputes in neighboring territories. “Come on, now it is ye who is keeping me waiting!” Abigale stuck her tongue out playfully at me, and I felt a strange mixture of motherly pride, anger, and amusement all at the same moment. The next moment seemed to happen as if all at once. Time lost all sense of meaning as the door banged open, and many loud explosions rang out in a discordant ruckus of destruction as the windows and the woodwork of my walls shredded up. Abigale’s shock barely registered on her dark red, bloody peppered body as she tumbled lifelessly to the autumn ground outside the door. My world felt as if it had become unhinged and the full weight of madness engulfed my mind. I felt nothing and everything. I witnessed every moment of my nearly sixteen years with Abigale unfold before my eyes. Alexia screamed in horror and grief and I shot off, disappearing before the sight of all who could witness my violence. I am QUEEN and I am POWER! My rage was manifest as my claws elongated from the normal human nails and I rushed the contingent of humans with musket rifles. They gaped as they realized, belatedly, they had assassinated the wrong target. I was the one who was supposed to be leaving the house right now. This was a cowardly ambush and one planned with some careful deliberation. “What the hell is that?!” The young man asked fearfully, as my bloody glowing eyes set upon him, and he could see my form materialize as I stopped amid the humans. “You will all spoil on this ground!” I snarled, and I slashed out his and the closest man to his left’s throats with both my sweeping claws. Screams rang out as flesh and bone sundered apart. I felt the multitude of eyes bearing down upon me. “You will all die!” I heard myself wailing in grief, as tears ran down my bloody gaze, and I swept my swift claws over chests and slashed throats. There was no contest with a fully mad vampyr queen who had lost all temperament or persona of humanity. “Dear God, someone has to stop this! She’s going to get the entire town turned against us!” I heard one of the nobels exclaim, and I heard a surprising voice behind him. “No, you will not hurt her! She deserves to have her way with them!” Alexia snarled, and someone snapped back, “Girl, your mother is unhinged! There may not be any saving what is left inside that body! She is more powerful than any one of us by a great measure! We will never survive her full fury!” Alexia sighed and said, “Fine, I shall risk my own flesh and bone to peacefully spot her rampage before New Orleans is any the wiser. If you dare challenge my command as her eldest daughter, I will kill you where you stand!” Alexia roared and her fifteen-year-old teen voice suddenly became icy as a Queen in her own right. She seemed to have mirrored my own behavior. Little of my memory remains beyond this point, as I recall a small, but powerful, little vampyr holding on to me for dear life. It was not easy to work out that I was being forcefully sealed away in an enchanted coffin and sealed beneath the family mausoleum. All that was left to accompany me was my own madness and grief waging war for my attention. My heart was sundered, and my life was over, as was my reign. My own child had seen fit to depose me to save our entire region from exposure.