Dorian, Ethalia, James

A segment from book three of the Master of the Undead series. AKA, a series of books I am writing. I'm sharing this segment with you because I doubt it will make it into the final book. It's a bit much. But I think it's fun. Some background...the first book, which has Dorian's story, is the most planned out and is the most researched. It's further along than the others. But I'm not sharing any of that with you...yet. Here is a segment from book three, which is James's story. Not all of this will make sense, of course. Just FYI...Dorian is a vampire, created in a very unconventional and controversial way--seriously, my brother is concerned that I will be renounced by religious leaders (you'll have to read book one to find out more). Dorian is also the Master of the Undead, and rules all of the creatures and beasts mortals learn to fear. Ethalia is basically the last gargoyle in existence, since the rest of her kind were decimated during previous moments in time that were vital to our history and the history of the undead (you'd have to read book two to find out more about that). James is a hybrid of gargoyle and vampire. Dorian believes that Ethlia should teach James some fighting tricks. He also wants Ethalia and James to get together and hook up. Oh, and Augustus is one of Dorian's loyal guards. So, Dorian is about to introduce James to Ethalia for the first time. James has been left on the floor above Ethalia, above a secret trap door to her cage. A guard is waiting for Dorian’s command to drop James into the cage. Dorian is talking to Ethalia…

“I still can’t believe you want me to do this,” Ethalia murmured.

“He needs you, Ethalia, and whether you want to admit it or not, you need him.” I said as I circled Ethalia’s cage. Her eyes stayed locked on me, no matter how quickly I moved.

“You intend for us to mate,” Ethalia accused. “Don’t try to deny it, I can see it in your eyes, and you’ve been hinting about it for the last month.”

I shrugged. “Well the way I see it, you have three options. One, stay lonely for the rest of eternity. Two, mate with James. Or three, you could mate with me.” I stopped my pacing and looked at her. For once, her eyes left mine as she tilted her head back and laughed.

“You’re joking, right? Please, Dorian, we’re not even close to the same species. And besides, you’ve kept me locked up for DECADES. That means I am not at all interested.”

I frowned. “I don’t know. According to my studies of humans, a lot of mortals kind of like the handcuff-chained-to-a-wall thing.”

Her eyes met mine again. They were wide and full of disbelief.

“What?” I demanded.

“According to your studies? Really, Dorian? Why on earth is it necessary to learn that about mortals?”

“It’s good to know everything about your enemy.”

“Including how they decide to satisfy their libidos??? Where is that written in the Master of the Undead handbook?”

“It’s in there,” I growled. In all honesty, there wasn’t a Mater of the Undead handbook. I suppose if there ever needed to be, I would have to write it. I made a mental note to myself to include a chapter explaining that the Master of the Undead should learn about Karma Sutra, just so he could understand his enemies.

Noooot that I know anything about Karma Sutra. Totally past my mortal life span. I’m just saying it might end up being useful.

I didn’t think about such things long. Ethalia was always extraordinarily observant and could probably guess what was going on inside my head.

“Drop him, Augustus,” I said.

James suddenly came catapulting through the door above Ethalia’s cage. He landed closer to her than I intended, perhaps only three feet away from her right hand.

She spun around and was on him instantly. Sparks started to fly as the grinding began.

And no, sicko. Not that kind of grinding. And not those kinds of sparks. They’re gargoyles. Metallic stone, remember? Pervert. Ahem.

They began to fight. James hadn’t seen it coming, and he didn’t know what to do to defend himself, anyway. He was stronger than Ethalia, but she was more experienced and more cunning. Plus, she was angry. She hadn’t been in a fight for years, because, as she had pointed out earlier, I had kept her locked up.

Taint

So.

Much.

Pain.

I am not so weighed down by some things, it's true. I feel more free than before, yes. But I am not freed from everything.

A girl's voice calling my name. I pause, and listen again, but she has faded away. I search for the person calling, going to the front room and the kitchen, but it does no good, so I return to my room.

The darkness gathering in the hallway, waiting to attack. I hear it first, because it shakes the door, and then I see it, as the light flickers, and then I see the eyes in the darkness, normal except for the menacing and hostile look in them.

Pain.

I cast out the darkness, the girl's voice calling me. They leave reluctantly but I can feel that they've gone, and I can no longer hear them or see them in the hallway or anywhere around me.

But inside of me...

I am tainted by this darkness.

Still I can feel it eating at me. The darkness is poison. I fear it will destroy me completely, and I fear how this is to be done. Will it overpower me and take over my body, make me do horrible things? I would prefer a different method than that. But I know my opinion on my destruction doesn't really matter.

There is never an option other than pain. There hasn't been a different option for a considerable length of time. Get rid of one pain and another immediately takes its place, or if it does not, it lets me feel free for a while and then the suffocating feeling of more pain crushes my spirit and the essence of who I am or might become one day, lower into the abyss of my silence and solitude.

Eggshell

Having crappy things happen just seems to be part of life. That doesn't mean we enjoy those things, though. I filed for divorce a while ago, but today I finally told him to his face that we're done, totally and completely. We're meeting on Wednesday, at the courthouse, to sign the divorce by stipulation paperwork, and the request to waive the 90-day waiting period. He wasn't happy about it, of course. He tried to give me reasons to stay with him, to not divorce him. I told him he needed to move on. He said he'd always be waiting. I told him that he shouldn't, it wouldn't do any good. I opened the door and told him goodbye. He said see you later. I grimaces and shook my head no, and closed the door. I was immediately weighed down by the grief of the situation. I barely made it up the stairs to cry on my mom's shoulder. But I did make it. I was finally strong enough to tell him goodbye, to really tell him "no more" to his face. It hurt, but after I cried for a while, I felt lighter. I am more free, now. It's been a while since I've felt free of the chains that bound me to him. The divorce isn't final yet, steps still need to be taken. But I feel stronger now. I'll make it through. And I have not done it alone. Friends and family have helped me almost every step of the way. They've helped when I wasn't stepping at all, but trying to drag myself across the abyss of this. I am grateful for them. And (this won't turn into a testimony) I am grateful to God, He's done most of the work here. And He's given me my friends and my family to support me and help me.

I found something interesting the other day. I was looking through some of my writing...I wrote this for a class, while I was still with him...

Eggshell

I crack the hard-boiled egg

in one hand,

feeling the satisfying crunch

of the shell

shattering.

I do not hurt like the egg does,

when its protective cover breaks.

The pornography,

transgender,

abusive,

lazy

things you do don’t bother me.

No, seeing you in my dress

or with your painted toenails,

does not matter to me.

I forget that you spend my money

to buy your girly things,

just as I have pretended to forget

the neglect to everything and

everyone you used to love.

None of this matters.

But the egg shell is broken,

and it’s only a matter of

time before the egg is

smashed and eaten.

He very nearly destroyed me, smashed me to bits. But I have let him go. I feel so much more free now. I still pity him, I still care about his wellbeing, but it is not mine to WORRY about anymore. Hallelujah.