Vampiris Sancti: The Vampire

Vampiris Sancti:

The Vampire

Book 2

Katri Cardew

Copyright Katri Cardew 2011

Published by Breedles Publishing at Smashwords

http://www.breedlespublishing.com

Cover by Padraig Designs

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 1

Destruction, hence, like creation, is one of Nature's mandates.

Marquis de Sade

The young man walked slowly down the byways of the city untroubled by his solitary circumstance. The freeway lined one side of him and the towering historical buildings housing the elite of inner city business shadowed him on the other. Here he walked the fine line between out in the open and lost to the gloom. He was unperturbed by the revealing scrapes that followed in his wake as he continued his journey. Impeccably groomed his presence was out of place in the dark location as his attire was more appropriate to trading by day. With metrosexual beauty enhanced by a moon unobscured by city smog his was a clear presence easily visible for those passing to notice. He stood over six foot with a young unlined face and his lean form moved with the fluid grace of a dancer as his sandy brown hair and coffee eyes shone with silver glints.

He hummed to himself—not from boredom, but because he enjoyed tracking the faint sounds that followed him. It amused him that this predator thought their clumsy attempts at stalking would go by unobserved. As nearly an Aunsin—the Ancient status—there was not a leaf falling nearby that he wasn’t alert to as Galt had been a Vampire for a very long time. Survival ensured that he was aware of every aspect of every environment he entered and he had already possessed strong survival instincts long before the demonic virus had infected him. He could feel the emotion dancing through the air as this would-be executioner chased a far greater predator, unaware that his life was forfeit already. It was like a fox tracking a wolf—this foolish human who believed in his own power—this serial killer. He felt the blood lust rising from the one who would follow it was similar to the Vampire, yet in comparison he was controlled, civilised, and refined in his killing.

Galt had no interest in the objectives of the human world for those desires were left far behind when he embraced his destiny of a privileged existence within an extremely old House. This allowed him power, strength, wealth, and the luxury of obsessing upon convoluted motives forged by nearly a century of hate, which were to be executed with both careful and brutal precision. It was no coincidence that he and this clumsy killer had crossed paths and once noticed by the Vampire the invitation to follow had been received with predictable success. His victim would be a useful addition, a pet he could unleash upon the unsuspecting. His was a revenge framed within a mind bound by no belief but his divine right for satisfaction.

The body that ruled—the Council of Aeternus—better known as the Ghuvk believed that the technological advances of humans gave them the ability to detect those who deviated from the norm. The paranoid humans, unable to police their own, spied upon each other and this gave them the opportunity to notice the deaths caused by the Vampire wraiths that lived in their shadows. In anticipation and reaction to the modern world they decided to prohibit the outright killing of humans. Vampires didn’t require the death of their subject for nourishment as it was an attempt to ensure silence before the age of Mesmer. But this was no longer the age of unnoticed brutality and the eyes of civilisation reached into every corner. For Vampires blood was now supplied via contractors as willing victims made pacts, addicts created and abandoned, and death was no longer the staple of the Vampiric world. The pronouncement of the ever watchful Council didn’t suddenly leave them open to attack, because it would be a foolish beast that tangled with the go-between of the Empire.

The Ghuvk!

The thought of the weak fools who would in their ignorance rule the Vampire world filled him with contempt. The audacity of the gaggle of morons to declare that he—Galt—was to do no more than snack upon delivered cold fare when these mortal cattle with their warm blood singing to his soul tramped about in freedom. He, who had killed with finesse for centuries, who had sat at courts, who had witnessed the birth of the technology that now imprisoned them in a cloak of fear, would not be repressed. An Ancient—such as he was becoming—was now held hostage by the slash and clash of stupid New World Tyros who in the past had left the streets raw with blood. To the Ghuvk his duty was clear, as approaching Aunsin he was to remove himself to the mediation of an Ashre where he would finish his evolution to become more demon than he was Vampire.

Galt ignored the commands of the Ghuvk for he was an Old World from the most powerful House of Balsescu and he had far more vital things on this mind than the mumblings of the appointed leaders of the Vampire world. He was waiting with the patience of one who had eternity to spare and for the fruition of a plan that had taken him nearly a century to put into effect. He knew the ones to bribe, the ones to torment, the ones to Unveil, the ones to watch as death took from them what had been stolen from him.

Earlier in the night he had stood at the entrance of the upper Chambers while searching the rows of cells built into a vast brick warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Here was where the Ghuvk housed those who would break the Veil—the protection of all Vampires—by their unruly behaviour. His eyes raked across the occupants, demons, humans, Vampires, all had broken the laws or created a disturbance and their fates would differ between tossed back through the Reveal or death. He searched for the object of his interest and once he found the girl his gaze, devoid of compassion or affection, rested upon her intently. It was his second visit looking for her because during the first she had been dead to the world while unconscious from fear. The drop from the roof didn’t harm her and he knew it wouldn’t when he let go. Fear, however, was a powerful master and her inability to deal with several shocks in a row had her slip into a merciful respite as short lived as it was.

The girl, his Tyro, now a Vampire fledgling had not observed her maker in the corner to whom she was no more than a commodity—a means to an end. She was torn between staggering in pain causing her to heave and to his surprise shouting in defiance at the demonic Aegai to release her. She had been chosen for not only her form, but also her lack of personality since she had drifted through life and her psyche was one easy to overpower. Had he regarded her with any emotion it might have been admiration for her sudden fortitude, except he was focused only upon his own objective. Her appearance was so reminiscent of another that they had intermingled into a single being and made him observe her unappreciated life until he chose her future. The emotion that once bound him in love now burned with flames of revenge and all that remained was an imprint. Like a photograph of the woman who once was and now the woman he had recreated. He stepped back into the shadows, a circumstance he had not visited for at least a century since Galt didn’t hide from man or demon. His reticence this time had a purpose for he didn’t want the girl to discover him—not yet. This plan had a carefully laid foundation, its roots firmly ensconced in a rage that ripped a void in his soul and tainted his pride. Although his wish was for her not to observe him once the Aegai—those mawkish idiots—saw him they would bow and scrape in the hope he would toss lucre their way. She would note their slobbering, so he stayed removed from her view. There was business at hand, business more important than her immediate comfort, freedom, or sanity.

He had many things in play because there was the one he had instructed to watch over her. The Vampire so carefully placed in the cell beside her had his instructions and his Old World blood blazed into the air to meet Galt. Roy was a delightful Dev breaking rules wherever and whenever he was able, a bountiful liar of wonderful sincerity. He had been placed where he needed to be and Galt waited for the planned cacophony. The Vampire didn’t disappoint and a few minutes later had tricked the Aegai into letting him loose where he ran amok until finding another exit back into the world. Once calmed the hulking demons returned to what they did best which was grovelling for indulgences.

The Aegai were oblivious to his attempt at discretion and huddled around their favoured guest fawning while the corners of their eyes twitched with greed. They didn’t comprehend scorn or the disrespect in the voices of those who addressed them as they lived a charmed existence under the protection of the Ghuvk. Galt glared at his new admirers while searching for one that showed a glimmer of intelligence as he had a very specific task to be accomplished. It was typical of this world that the success of his complex and well considered plans laid at the feet of those more suited to chasing cows in a paddock than following even the most basic of instructions. He found one who showed a spark of wit and took this bastion of Aegain intellect aside as he explained what he wished to occur.

We are honoured by Galt, Ancient one.

The Aegai he had pulled aside praised him and the rest followed them back into the shadows as they clustered around him. The use of ancient with his name didn’t compliment the Vampire because he was aware that while their lips paid service their eyes followed his bulging wallet.

Honoured. They intoned in unison until Galt hissed for them to shut up. Their bizarre habit of repeating each other put his intent in peril since the girl was bound to notice their idiotic chanting. He pointed to tall thin scribes known as Scriptors, thin parchment coloured demons sitting at the top of the vast room as they transcribed every transaction of their world. He carefully explained what he wished to occur while the Aegai nodded with such vigour that he had serious doubts that any of them comprehended his directive. He reminded the nodding peons that he was capable of reading what the Scriptors wrote so lying would be out of the question. As if to emphasize his point Galt looked towards the Scriptors who bowed slightly without breaking their recording. While they considered themselves apart from the machinations of the various worlds they knew it was not prudent to ignore an Old World so close to being an Ancient. The power of Galt radiated around him and even the Tyro trying not to throw up in the corner was affected enough to give the shadows a distrustful scowl between heaves.

Satisfied that those who eyed the tight coil of money he waved about understood his task Galt retreated into the street. He had once read of a devotion that suggested Homo proponit, sed Deus disponit, but then again Galt was no man—he was a Vampire who proposed and disposed at will and he had no need of this or any other God.

He had waited for nearly a century, a coiled snake in the shadows, watching for the perfect moment to strike. His revenge was no longer fuelled by passion for the emotion of his attachment had passed. His was a rage of affront and his arrogance didn’t allow it to dim—not for one passing second as he held fast to the right of his privileged existence. His wrath, smooth as glass, slid across his soul and held him to this world. It left him unable to remove himself to an Ashre the place of meditation where he would live his final Vampire moments. Trapped by his attachment to human emotion he couldn’t evolve into an Aunsin, his destiny as an Ancient, so he stayed a prisoner of his own vengeance and a Vampire.

Women rarely fared well in his world, many were so jaded from excess they barely existed beyond the ornamental and some were driven mad from a life barren—both in the physical and emotional realm. Few survived the transformation and those that lived beyond the initial years were often of such a strong mind he couldn’t manipulate them. What he required was the innocence and fear of one newly Unveiled, a scene of his own orchestration, and rules that would be implemented by their world. Once long ago he had discovered a spirited Tyro at the Chambers who was unafraid of the huge demons who imprisoned her or the Vampires that scrutinized her from a distance. Her eyes glittered with defiance and still echoing with the warmth of human life she caused the electric heat of desire to race through him. Her bright insolence answered the eternal ache of an existence never completely sated by the temporal fragility of humans. Here finally was a woman worthy of his attentions and he had paid dearly to bind her through an Accord as many had responded to her bold rebellion. It was exactly one year later when she had been rudely taken from him at the moment he would claim her for eternity. The damned upstart Caden Quinn, with his Numen Bryre Rhain, hiding in the shadows like vermin, thieves from the gutter respecting nothing.

Another scrape in the night demanded his immediate presence and while he left his thoughts of the past they never really left him. He smiled with the same anticipation that his victim used upon his own prey while relishing the destined outcome of this soon to be skirmish. The unfolding of his plan mellowed him and instead of dispatching the would-be killer in the shadows he decided to allow him a few more minutes of life to enact his inadequate course of attack. He had encountered this type of human before, an aberration that had neither rhyme nor reason since even the most vicious of demons had some underlying ethos that supported his assault. This creature was beyond human and the nether world, that killed for a reason only appreciable to him and so Galt would show him the same mercy he had shown his own victims. Then there was nothing quite like the smell of fresh blood on the morning dew.

Chapter 2

Myth and Reality

In myth and legend those who seemed to walk between the worlds of the living and the dead were by their very nature confined by boundaries that governed their existence. Wandering the mortal realm these creatures for whom blood was the life found themselves relegated to surviving in the dark as light from which life sprung was an experience no longer theirs. Forced to sleep in structures that housed the remnants of their souls they feared the symbols and portents of faith for only God should be immortal. They resembled the creatures of the night with their senses tuned to exquisite perfection, fangs to protect, and a supernatural strength because they no longer had the constraints of flesh. The undead had no fears except a stake through that which contained the essence of the human soul—that which governed our dreams and our path—the heart. Then again these are only myths and legends.

The Vampire world catered to these myths as it supported and propagated notions of coffins, stakes, apotropaic objects, because a world secure in the knowledge that they had the tools to confine evil was never prepared when evil crossed their path. While many stories concerning Vampires were fantasy—some were not and after being ousted from enough irate villages these creatures of the night learned the value of discretion. The Vampire world hid in plain sight, in literature, film, legend, and dreams, knowing that half-truths were always the best disguise. Stakes, holy devices, sunlight did not destroy a Vampire—their destruction was simple as fire or beheading and as complex as grief. When unlucky souls encountered a Vampire—by chance or design—they found themselves failed by the very lore circulated by the fiends themselves. While humans appeared to be easy targets they had enough advantages to ensure that they were approached with wary caution. Vampires were well aware of the psyche of their prey for it was the basis of their own ancestry.

The Vampire in the daylight was a weak and insipid creature for although the sun didn’t cause them to burst into a blazing inferno burning them to dust; it was the initiate of a life now foreign to them. Changed by survival, the virus that corrupted their blood reacted negatively to the bright rays and their observers saw this as a reflection of the death of their humanity. As Vampires aged so did their tolerance and while they were able to move about during sunlight they were usually close to ancient before they became stronger than humans were during the day. For the ordinary Vampire their strength increased as the sun waned and it was not until dusk before they became the creature of the night supported by their myths. Possessed of gifts that could only be described as preternatural by any lucky enough to survive the encounter the Vampire was a strong, mesmerising being with the reflexes and nocturnal abilities of the all the most successful predators. Unable to account for a human looking creature with superhuman skills Vampiric attributes were classed as demonic, and considering the source of their infection the human world was oddly correct. Demons were not created by religious lore, but were from worlds of a splintered universe and had entered the human realm bringing a virus that left the mutation known as Vampire behind.

While the Vampire slept it need not be in a coffin as this was another illusion created for survival before the creation of Houses for protection. Vampires would find themselves hunted after their brazen attacks and often hid in places protected by superstitions—such as cemeteries. Where else to best to hide something rumoured to be walking dead but amongst corpses and once discovered there the legends were born. The first Houses were created as a means of protecting both the Vampire and their assets while they supported the existing legends and created a few more to add to the confusion.

Holy images, relics, faith, or superstitions did not frighten Vampires. At first, they used to frequent churches in the hope of discovering explanation of their existence from a higher power. In reality they only discovered the stink of man corrupting spirituality, so in retaliation priests became their favourite fare. Contrary to popular belief Vampires were not the undead and their souls were not lost for these myths were how uninitiated humans explained the seemingly supernatural creatures that walked amongst them. Vampires had reflections, were not repulsed by garlic, were not friends with wolves, all these were methods of confusing their human prey of how to identify and battle the mutation that now lived amongst them.

As their unabashed attacks impinged upon even the most obtuse of souls, the Council of Aeternus—the Ghuvk—was formed protect the Vampiric community from the indiscretions of fools. With discovery now the ultimate sin the new circumspect Vampire became an inconspicuous, ethereal creature relegated right back to the subject of myths and misconceptions. The modern Vampire no longer killed because they had no need as the Vampire society owned many blood banks that delivered to their various Houses like take away food. There were those that still enjoyed the warmdri, which was drinking blood from a living being, but now they were only allowed to partake from willing victims bound by a protective pact. Vampires, contrary to stories, didn’t drain a body of blood for their requirements were scarcely a cup of blood. Death was the most efficient method used for silence until mesmerism was discovered. Vampires evolved like the humans they lived beside while adapting to their ever-changing world and learning new skills as they aged until they were forced off world by their demonic appearance. The modern Vampire now lived a corporate life and owned banks, multinational companies, entertainment industries, controlling subtly behind the mask of humanity only to reveal their true self to those of their own House. The Vampire of today was no longer subject to the hysteria of ignorance and instead wrote the legends of their own being.

**********

…a man can smile and smile and still be a villain.

Hamlet

The legend was that they approached those who were hurt, lost in a world of pain, those without hope or fear, those with nothing to lose, nothing to gain, no longer tethered to the humanity that would soon be stripped from their existence. The legend goes that they invited the predator to tear the soul from their life. That the Vampire need not go in search of a victim for beyond the clutches of self destruction, self loathing, and self preservation they offered themselves to the only one interested in their fractured, pointless existence. The legends were wrong.

He came like the night, silent, dark, with the pristine beauty of the moon and the deadly intent of the nocturnal hunter. He came not for the broken, the defenceless, he didn’t come for the sick, weary or afraid, he came for one who could survive the Unveiling. He wanted one who could exist in a reality ripped from the cracks of nightmares, illusions and children’s tales, with a grain of truth more horrible than history could recount. He came in search of one who could be a companion because the greatest enemy of the Vampire was not the rays of the sun since he welcomed the day. It was not the rise of the cross because he had outlived the myths, not even technology for he had seen men become gods before, the greatest enemy of the Vampire—was time.

His theft of my life was not the blood thirst of the snarling creature of the night from folklore as he didn’t reveal himself through bared fangs nor rip my flesh apart. His theft was done before I could gasp an objection, I was his before I knew I was gone and demonic taint was the burden he placed upon me. His life was a myriad of paths, each century had another deception cast aside until he found himself unmoved by beauty, no longer in awe of talent, unafraid of genius, he knew that we weren’t that original and what had been before would come again. Instead he sought a soul who could endure and change for the greatest gift—the greatest torture—was to lose who you were. So if he was the sum of his memories, then he required someone to remember him and he stopped when he heard my wish.

A simple whisper to the moon one clear night—I made the fateful utterance when I dared to ask the universe if there was anything more than what stood before me at that moment. My yearning crashed against his need as his Vampire essence caught the scent of an unsettled soul while he tasted my longing, my dreams for a life without the boundaries of human constriction, so without consent he removed me from my world. The enemy of the Vampire was not the sword, nor holy chants, the enemy of the Vampire was to be utterly and completely alone. Though he might be surrounded by fortune and those of his ilk it was what bonded humanity—the relationship—that he couldn’t survive without.

**********

I would like to say that I was ordinary, but I was less than that, I was an outsider always looking in at a world I couldn’t join. I watched as everyone fit together with ease in the puzzle of a life that I couldn’t access as I wondered what was the secret shared by everyone but me. I was an unexpected child born to parents looking towards the end of their lives instead of the beginning of mine. I soon learned that unobtrusive, quiet children were left alone and while there was a price—there’s always a price—it’s better than abuse. I had a solitary childhood with acquaintances rather than friends, to be included only to make up numbers, never chosen, never sought, and never wanted. Described as a mouse, but more invisible than timid I used to wipe my fingerprints from everything I touched as if to erase all evidence of my existence.

I graduated, started university, failed university, never grasping the collective need to strive for the same goals. My parents died and the shame of my failures was buried alongside them in their cold, untended graves. I drifted along a faceless creature that buried my unrest beneath conformity a cog in the machine that never questioned if existence needed to be so bleak. As some rose and fell beside me I found myself at twenty-three working for a supplier of electronic components and in charge of a small group of staff.

My alarm went off at the same time it always went off and the annoying jangle woke me from an early morning nightmare. If there had been someone to confide to I would have told them of my troubling dreams and if had known of their source I would have run as far as I could. Instead I met another day with my thoughts a jumble as I faced the pale, uninteresting face in the mirror. Grey eyes—just grey—not stunning or intriguing and mousy brown hair thick with the frizz of unfinished curls. I might have made more of myself if life had encouraged me in any particular way, but if life was guilty of passing me by then I was just as guilty for not making my mark. It was a dark winter morning when I left to ride the train to work while ignoring the car in the drive, ignoring the people around me, ignoring regrets, ignoring the gift of existence. My section was a small group of assistants common to many large enterprises, the girls who registered the day to day communications of industry. They were the flow that kept track of the myriad of communications, perky in short skirts and high heels waiting for non-existent princes to notice their giggles and shiny hair.

Their sniggers weren’t confined to society gossip and any passing males. I was well aware of the sly looks of superiority that bored into my back. They exchanged knowing glances of contempt exempt of pity or empathy, judgments bare of fact had already been made and passed. Theirs was the acceptance shared between pretty girls who played the game and knew I was not or ever could be one of them. I managed without comment and as I removed myself from life it took away their ability to touch the pain I refused to recognise. Neither of us knew that my reality was changing, that the girl who sat silent while ignoring the barb of double-edged comments was already lost to the plans of a Vampire.

The area devoted to my section was hardly removed from the vast floor only divided off by fabric covered boards— the standard low cost management of space. The chatting girls barely moved at my arrival as if my turning up was the least important item of their day and I continued into the tiny cubicle serving as my office. Inter-office mail had arrived it would be filled with various jobs, add the never ending emails and this was my day. I grabbed a pile walked out and handed papers around watching the smiles fade as the demands of work took precedence. Everyone returned to their desks, except for Amy. She was the prettiest assistant and this gave her a sense of entitlement impossible to discourage. She frequently would complain about me to any mid-level management in earshot, which resulted in their interference. Never one to respond directly to anything I would document the decisions made and waited for the subsequent fallout. When work was not completed upper management blamed me and I offered up the multitude of intermediate rulings in defence. This had them decide to remove the source of interference, and the basis providing the ability of subordinates to avoid work. This didn’t make an iota of difference in her attitude as she was firmly convinced of the superiority of any man in any situation. She sat on the edge of a desk, her slender figure in a dress better suited for a nightclub than an office and the shimmy satin of the material crinkled as it revealed her ample chest. She gave me her usual dismissive stare and as usual I took no notice while her cherry lips pouted at the paper handed to her. Had I cared enough it could have been ensured she consistently had the worst jobs on offer, but I couldn’t be bothered to do even that.

Mr. Salter wanted me to do some letters for him. She told me with smug confidence.

Had I not been hiding from life I might have given more thought to my reaction, which was strange and compelling as if orchestrated by an unseen influence. It felt as if the weight of the world was crushed against me and every second separated as time stood suspended. The reality of a terrible truth combined with panic flooded me as I could see my life clearly and it was no more than a daily struggle over insignificant moments. Confusion, fear, flitted across my mind, but it was the anger—so rare I didn’t know I had it—salty and tart that gripped my core. I had a predictable history taking the path of least resistance while people would push boundaries without a direct reaction. My head was fuzzy, hurting from the bright lights and I hadn’t slept because my nights had been haunted by violent dreams while my days struggled for sense. It was a stranger who responded—one who stared into her insolent face—a stranger with dark eyes and a darker voice.

Mr. Salter, I said quietly, doesn’t decide the work you do—he never has and never will. So if you don’t like this you can always leave.

I had never threatened another person and this was as confusing to me as it was to her. Her face closed off with the promise of future bother as she took the paper leaving me to a strange victory, because in my soul I knew the person standing up to her wasn’t the real me. I didn’t have to face her retribution until the infamous Mr. Salter strolled over after lunch with a cheerful Amy on his arm taking confidence at the presence of a man to shield behind. When I looked at him he seemed different, sharper as if he was suddenly in focus, as if I was viewed him with different eyes. Usually I observed people the way you’d look at a bug crawling up a wall, make reference to their place in the world and then ignore them.

Salter was everything you would expect to see in someone stuck in the time warp of his own inadequacy. His suit couldn’t hide the beginning of the paunch from an inactive lifestyle, his hair cut razor short couldn’t entirely conceal the balding patches, his eyes red from endless lunches of one drink too many. He spoke with the jolly tone of a shady salesman sharing a special secret and normally his presence left me cold. Only this day I was burning from passion borrowed from nightmares not entirely my own. Leaving Amy at the door he came into my office and sat on the edge of my desk fiddling with the folders as the smarmy oil he called charm smeared everything in sight.

I was wondering if I could borrow Amy this afternoon. I have stuff that needs to be processed immediately.

Normally I would have waved them away because facing their blatant deceit would have required energy, interaction, and strength, none of which I applied to life. Normally I would have sent a memo outlining their little charade to resources, but I looked up to see a triumphant Amy leaning against the doorframe. The low cut of her dress revealing the only assets she owned seemed to taunt me with an experience I would never have. I would never be able to manipulate those around me to cater to my whims since I didn’t have the charm, looks or breasts for the job. Normally I would have looked away, but this was not a normal day—this was a day when emotion would flare like a wire in my blood. Keeping my eyes on Amy I stood up quickly causing her to move away from the doorframe and her eyes became wary with the shrewdness of a survivor.

All requests are to be processed through the standard documentation.

He shifted as if to dispute the formality of my response, but changed his mind when his eyes met the stark intent that was mine. With Salter taken care of I waited until Amy returned to her desk before fleeing to the toilets to dry heave my emotion away. I sat shivering on the floor trying to focus on the flecks in the polished concrete, anything to distract me from the strange thoughts flaming through my mind. I felt as if some unwelcome beast had taken up residence inside my head and little did I know that as confusing as the day had been life was about to get much, much worse. Only once before in my life did I have access to such rage—when my parents made the ill-advised decision to send me to summer camp. We slept in tents tightly grouped together as if our mutual discomfort was some sort of honoured bonding ritual. In the middle of the night wild creatures poked and howled at the sides and if I had not been so groggy I might have heard the giggles amongst the growls. Instead I grabbed the central pole and standing beneath the falling sides I recalled my determination to survive. My willingness to attack whatever was coming for me didn’t disturb me until years later when I realized I had been prepared to kill.

I spent the rest of the day hiding wherever I was able interacting as little as possible because I didn’t trust myself now that my defences against the world had vanished.

My return home was greeted by the darkness of night and the stars were crisp and clear in a sky that should have embraced spring, yet clung to winter. The stars spoke of a universe I could not, would not, explore and my heart rebelled as despair was wrenched from my soul. I couldn’t stop this unfamiliar passion and found myself wishing aloud.

There must be more than this!

Unfortunately, there was.

My name was Bethany Trent and at age twenty three years, six months, four days and ten minutes I ceased to exist. Don’t misunderstand I didn’t die and I won’t die for an eternity by human standards; instead, I was removed from everything that used to be my life. I spent my last night eating toast and spaghetti from a tin, watching part four of a miniseries that made no sense as I had already missed parts one to three. The house I lived in belonged to