Heart of Ashes

Death's Warm Welcome

Donovan heard a click, it was six o'clock, and he lifted his head off the pillow to see the doorknob turning. The familiar, looming, black clad figure of Caine stepped in the door.

"It's about bloody time!" Donovan exclaimed as he sat up, "Where the hell were you?"

Caine placed his hat on the dresser next to the door, "I had to sort something out first."

Donovan didn't really want to know what he had to sort out, so he didn't ask, "So what do I have to do?"

Caine took his coat off and draped it over the chair, "All you need to do is recall every important memory and emotion in your life, give them to me and you will be secure."

Donovan frowned, "Give them to you? You mean you want to take..."

"No, Donovan," Caine waved a hand dismissively, "all you're going to do is share them with me so you'll stay sane."

"Okay, how do I do that?"

"Just recall everything in your mind," Caine smiled, "leave the rest to me."

Donovan nodded and closed his eyes. He was aware of Caine in front of him as he remembered everything he thought was relevant. He felt Caine's hands at his collar and then he was... unzipping his hoodie.

"What the hell?" he jumped backwards.

"Blood, it stains," Caine said as he pushed the hoodie off of Donovan's shoulders, "you can start now."

Donovan shut his eyes again and started remembering. He felt Caine's hair on his cheek and then his lips against the skin on his throat then he was pricked, simultaneously, in two places. All the memories of his mother flooded through his head; her face, her laugh her over-worked hands, her... her funeral. Then memories started coming up as if they had a will of their own. Waking up with the worst hangover in the street, experimenting with substances, two failed suicide attempts. Then he realised he wasn't controlling them, Caine was taking a walk through his head.

"You're doing well," Caine's lips moved on his neck, "just a little longer."

The platform where he met Caine, the burning of his father's picture. Donovan felt like he was going to pass out but Caine wrapped his arms around his shoulders and he was pressed against Caine's rock hard chest.

"A little longer," Caine urged.

An impossible memory popped up. A memory of his father pushing him on a swing. He must have been about two years old. His mind reeled and he couldn't make sense of the memory. Caine pulled back and wiped his mouth with one of the tissues from the box on the bedside table.

"Well done," he said, resting a cool palm on Donovan's forehead, "now you must rest."

When he woke, Caine was sitting in the chair by the window staring out of it. He had a look of longing in his eyes. Donovan sat up and rubbed his head.

"A penny for your thoughts?" he mumbled, "What time is it?"

He was expecting Caine to fish a pocket watch out but he didn't, it was just an ordinary wristwatch. Well it looked rather expensive and it was gold but it was a wristwatch, "Twelve minutes past midnight," he said.

"I've been asleep for six hours," Donovan muttered, "and here I thought vampires lived by the 'sleep is for the weak' code."

"Au contraire," Caine said, he still had that far away look and he hadn't torn his eyes from the window, "sleep is a wonderful thing for us. It's the only time when we're truly at peace with ourselves... well, the older ones in any case."

"Sounds depressing," it did, especially the way he phrased it.

"Oh, it is," Caine turned his head at last, "that's the thing with being the immortal undead; our minds are secure but our hearts are wilder than ever. They become unpredictable things that seem to make the mind incapable of rational thought until a passion that burns so brightly blows up in one's face."

Donovan frowned, "Oookay? What's going on?"

"Well, Donovan, I suppose I should tell you. I'm dying. My mind is... slipping and something in my heart has been set on fire. It's only a matter of time before it explodes," Caine must have noted the confused expression on Donvan's face because he went on to say, "figuratively of course. It simply means that at some point my mind will shut down and I'll be ruled by all my horrid, hateful bitterness and all within me that is capable of love and compassion will die."

"I... I don't get it," Donovan stammered, "I thought..."

"Emotion was linked to the heart?" Caine finished, "It is but the mind controls the emotion and has the ability to make you see things differently. The heart is pure emotion, it wants what it wants, and without the mind it will take what it wants whatever the cost. My heart is a jealous and vengeful heart, so people will die unless I die first."

Donovan clasped his hands together, "Which is impossible, right?"

Caine nodded, "You know your legends."

Donovan smiled at how Caine acknowledged that he was, in fact, a legend, "So much for immortality. Does it happen to everyone?"

"I don't know," he answered, "no one's lived as long as I have. Ah yes, there's always someone who's prepared to kill you for coin, it would be wise to remember that."

Donovan's eyes widened, "Like I said, so much for bloody immortality."

Caine stood up, "Welcome to death my young friend," he removed his jacket and sat next to Donovan, "you need to drink of me."

"What?"

Caine slapped his head, "Open your ears, boy! You need to drink of me."

Caine hit hard and he realised just what Caine had been talking about and the thought that he might just be dealing with a bipolar ancient vampire hit. One minute they'd been having a heart to heart conversation about hearts and death and emotions and things and then Caine had smacked him.

Caine looked at him expectantly but he had no idea what to do, "What do I... do I just, like, will it or something?"

"You catch on fast, hurry up, I have things to do."

Donovan hesitated a moment then he willed it. He felt the fangs slide down in his mouth and catch his bottom lip. He dipped his head and bit into Caine's skin. The scent hit him first. The heavenly spicy aroma of Caine's blood. Then he tasted it. It was heavenly. He wondered why Caine's blood tasted the way it did so he tore himself away.

"What makes..."

"Age and personality," he was sure Caine was reading his thoughts, "drink."

He didn't have to be told twice and he, again, bit into the soft skin.of Caine's throat. He suddenly became aware that he was falling then there was a thud and Caine had broken his fall. The blood still glowed into his mouth and slid down his throat. He felt Caine's hand sliding up his back then strong fingers grasped his collar and pulled him backwards.

"Enough," Caine breathed, "it is done. You are now a true vampire."

Donovan wiped at the blood running down his chin, "Awesome."

Caine cleaned up and left as Donovan took up his position by the window. It was a beautiful night. There was a cool breeze blowing and the city lights beckoned him. There were people in the streets and he was hungry. The city was his playground and he intended to go out and play.