Chapter 5: The Initiate

I woke up without knowing if it was night or day, but a feeling in the back of my mind told me it was time. Rather like if you've become used to the alarm clock going off at a certain hour everyday, after awhile you'll wake up just a moment or two earlier, waiting for it to go off and enjoying those five little minutes that are yours alone. So it was for me there, in the dark shelter of our bedroom lair.

I lay on my side with Valentine behind me, cupping me with his body, and I enjoyed the feel of his strong arms around me, just beneath my breasts. I could feel his penis, not hard, but still a presence as it pushed against my bare sex. I sighed softly, smiling to myself and wishing he was hard inside me then, making love to me while we slept. I might have woken up to feel him deep and throbbing, spilling his seed inside me the way he had the night before. The thought warmed me and I couldn't help but move, just a little, rubbing myself against him, but he didn't stir.

The bodies of the two girls we'd killed and fed on over the previous evenings had been pushed rudely from our bed. I couldn't see them heaped on the floor, but I knew they were there. I could smell them and we'd have to do something about that. The schoolgirl in particular was beginning to take on a bad scent, having been dead for two full days and nights now.

Tonight I was going to be initiated and I pondered that as I lay there. Valentine had confessed, almost apologized to me for how quickly things were proceeding. In the past, he'd told me, it had taken several months, even years for some of the members, before they'd been accepted and initiated. That it had taken me just a few days was largely due to Sylvia and Julia, and their conviction that I was the thirteenth member the Society had been waiting for. Valentine's insistence on turning me into a vampire as soon as possible had influenced the decision as well, although he'd tried to explain that he hadn't really turned me into a vampire at all. He liked to say that he'd merely hastened the inevitable.

Some of what they'd told me, Sylvia and Julia and the others, had made sense, a little, but in fact I was very much confused by it all. The only thing I knew for certain was that they were not regular people. They were exciting and different and seemed drawn from my deepest desires, as if all of my dreams had somehow sprung to life. There could be no denial of what I'd become. I'd felt the change. I'd killed and supped on human blood. I was a vampire and everytime I told myself that I felt a thrill run through me. The idea that Valentine and I were the only ones though, that still stumped me and I tried to reason it out.

Obviously the vampires of myth and legend were based on some facts, some knowledge of our existence. It seemed to me unlikely that Valentine by himself could have inspired all of them. I was no expert, but I'd done more than my fair share of research, given my peculiar interests, and very nearly every culture in human history had vampire myths of one form or another. Western or Eastern, it didn't matter. The Germans, the Japanese, African tribesmen, and old Mayans ... They all recognized vampires by different names. Of course some of that could be attributed to creatures like Julia and her sisters, who were succubi. They seduced men in their beds, making love to them even as they stole their very lives. Certainly vampires may have been blamed occasionally for that, but still. It didn't make a lot of sense unless there were dozens, even hundreds of them scattered around the globe.

No, I decided, there had to be more of us. If not now, then certainly in the past and that led me to conclude that either Valentine was telling me the truth, and I had no reason to think otherwise, and that only in ages past had vampires been more common, or he was lying to me. But why would he do that, I wondered, just for the sake of argument really. He was possessive and Julia had told me he'd been alone for a very long time. Was that by choice? If there were other vampires, could he be an exile perhaps? An outcast for some reason? He wouldn't want me to know about them if he was, would he? Did he fear offering me a choice? If he were lonely enough, desperate enough...

I bit my bottom lip hard, drawing blood as a punishment for letting my thoughts go where they had. I trusted Valentine, and beyond that I loved him. Totally and without regret or reservation. If I allowed myself to continue with those thoughts it would only hurt us, it would make me suspicious and I didn't want that. I was being a fool and Valentine didn't deserve that either. I pulled his arms tighter around me, wriggling my butt against him and closing my eyes. I pushed those stupid thoughts out of my head and concentrated on the whispers, the bird-like voices in my head. They never went away, but I'd quickly learned to ignore them. I wondered if I could concentrate hard enough to actually hear them, to understand what it was they were saying.

"Mr. Raines..." I smiled and surrendered to his warm hug. I let him envelope me in his arms, wondering what he really looked like beneath that human facade. It was hard to imagine that I embraced an angel, and even more so when I considered the fact that I was a vampire. There seemed to be something very wrong with that picture.

"You'll have to call me Edward now." He stood back smiling, holding my arms just below my shoulders.

"Mmmm ... That'll be weird," I laughed.

He greeted Valentine casually, but Edward was obviously focused on me, concerned perhaps as he took me by the hand and walked with me into the church.

"How do you feel?" he asked me, his voice echoing faintly through the empty basement.

"I feel good," I shrugged. "I'm getting used to it."

"Are you?" He paused, turning to look into my eyes, and I thought I saw some small sadness in his.

"Are we enemies now?" I asked him, half-joking, but serious too.

"No," he shook his head. "Just ... opposed in some respects." We continued walking slowly, moving towards the stairs leading up. "After tonight I won't see you for a long time," he said and I looked up at him, but he spoke no more of it and I didn't ask.

We paused outside the closed doors, Edward stopping short and squeezing my hand to keep me there a moment. "Jenna, I was..." he sighed and seemed to consider what he wanted to say and I could feel Valentine growing impatient behind us.

"What is it?" I asked him, searching his face.

"I'd hoped that we were wrong about you." He set his jaw then and opened the door, much as he had on my first visit which seemed so long ago now.

"Fucking angels," Valentine whispered in my ear as he put his arm around me, so that we walked into the room together. I ignored him, smiling as Julia, Sylvia, and the rest of our Dark Circle greeted us. The other seven members of the Society, including Edward who joined them, were standing apart, talking amongst themselves.

I kissed all of them in turn, smiling and feeling welcome as always and I asked Wendy what was going on, gesturing with my eyes towards the others.

"They're just a little reluctant," she laughed lightly. "They've never been comfortable when we've initiated a new member."

"A Dark member," Julia clarified for me. "Sylvia was our last and that was a long time ago."

"And Mona after her," Wendy said. "They weren't nearly so reluctant then."

"They sacrificed a goat," Valentine made a face.

"A lamb," Julia corrected him. "It was fine."

"Fine for you maybe, but it made me sick."

"Oh Val, enough already," Christine said as she took my hand. "He's been complaining for the last two hundred years about that goat."

"It was a lamb," Valentine said sarcastically, grinning at Julia.

"We need to get you ready," Christine said, pulling me gently behind her and we made our way through a side door, into a part of the church I'd never seen before. "I think the choir uses this room," she told me, turning on the lights. "Looks like it anyway."

There was a long wooden rod with white robes hanging from it, white shoes on the floor, and a small vanity with some makeup; neutral lipstick, bobby pins and brushes. I stood there, looking around, wondering what I was supposed to be doing to get ready. A case sat on the floor, a black satchel that looked out of place. Christine went to it, kneeling so that she could open it up and I watched as she retrieved a small clay jug with a cork stopper. She set that aside and next removed a linen cloak that looked old and worn, mottled grey in color.

"Go ahead and take off your clothes," she said. "You need to be anointed and then you'll wear this." She stood up, holding the jar in one hand and the robe in the other.

"Okay," I shrugged, pulling my t-shirt over my head.

"The robe belonged to Elizabeth Malet. She wore it while imprisoned by her future husband," Christine smiled at me, watching as I bared myself slowly. "Do you know who he was?"

"Mmmm..." I made a little face and giggled. "Should I?"

"No, it's not important," Christine laughed. "Elizabeth herself, however, she was a young woman, a wealthy heiress, who had her innocence stolen, raped violently by a man she would later forgive and marry. She was wearing this when it happened and so it represents both submission and dominance, as well as love and redemption."

"Is it magical?" I wondered, bending slightly and balancing on my left leg to remove my panties.

"Perhaps," she shrugged. "Although doubtless Sylvia could find some use for it, for me it's merely an old bit of cloth, stained with blood and time. This was chosen carefully for you, after much consideration and a rather lengthy search. We had a hard time finding it."

"Do I put it on now?" I asked her, standing in front of the woman naked, feeling no shame at all, no sense of humility.

"In a moment." She put the cloak on the vanity. "First this, Argent Vive, the first force in the search for truth."

Christine unstopped the clay jar and stepped close to me and I watched as she placed her palm over the opening, tilting the bottle so that a measure poured into her hand. She spoke softly, in Latin I believe, although I could barely hear her and my own skills in that language were limited to reading, and then only slowly. She pressed her hand to my face, across my mouth, smearing the oily liquid over my lips. It tasted salty and faintly bitter, and there was the definite and almost overpowering flavor of vinegar, but it was unlike any vinegar I'd ever heard of.

She poured more into her hand, still speaking, watching my face, caressing my breasts and particularly my nipples. I felt them harden and a warmth began to grow, in my mouth first, but then everywhere she touched me. My breathing grew shallow and my pulse quickened. I could feel myself changing as Christine's tender hands began to arouse me. She tilted the jar once more and I gasped as she pressed her wet fingers between my thighs, entering my sex without warning and cupping my vulva while she spoke.

My eyes grew wild and my teeth long, I could feel the energy of my change as I released all pretension at being mortal. My skin fell white, growing pale and translucent so that thin blue veins were visible on my arms and breasts. I shivered as my cunt clasped eagerly upon Christine's fingers, and I moved my body just slightly, wishing for more pressure. My clitoris throbbed and my nipples burned. I felt my hunger as well; the voices, the whispers in my head grew louder. They made little sense, but they were human and I blinked as a shadow door appeared and I had a vision in my mind, a destination, but I shook my head to clear it.

When Christine finished, she stepped back, corking her small clay jar and smiling at me. "You're ready Sister, almost ... Put this on now, draw the hood tight."

She helped me, slipping the robe over my shoulders and I could smell the blood of Elizabeth Malet, now dead some 500 years. Her virginity remained imprinted forever on the ragged hem. It tied loosely around my waist and the hood fell low over my brow as if I were a monk of old. I adjusted it carefully, looking at myself in the mirror. I looked very little like the person I'd been just a few days before. I seemed beautiful and menacing, changed from a pretty schoolgirl into something sensual and seductive. I hadn't seen myself in vampire form until then and I hadn't realized the subtle but dramatic changes becoming my true self inspired.

By the time I'd finished admiring myself, Christine had changed into her own robes and she stood beside me with her hood drawn so that I could only see her eyes. They shimmered like molten gold above her smile which was filled with gleaming pointed teeth. I could smell her as well, that irresistible aroma that clouded my senses with desire, but I was stronger now and changed into my true form and her demonic charms filled me with hunger as much as desire, for they are ever the same to us. I looked into her eyes and willed the woman, the demoness to give herself to me and for just a moment, a brief eternal second, Christine lifted her chin and turned, her mouth falling open as she waited...

But the moment passed and she recovered quickly with a soft giggle, a terribly beautiful sound that only dying men should hear.

"Oh! But we are dangerous, Sister!" Christine told me, taking my hand in hers. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," I nodded.

The ceremony was held in the church proper, for no other reason than it was convenient, but also, I later came to suspect, because everyone there had no small taste for the dramatic. If the Society had a collective weakness, that was it, our egotistical need for the theatrical. That may be understood and forgiven if you consider some of the members have been on this earth for several thousand years - Very often it is only the theatrical that can alleviate the suffering of boredom. As such, the ceremony could have been performed anywhere to the same effect since we honored neither God nor Lucifer, but the universe itself.

The pews had been removed and the vaulted hall was lit by candles, a great many of them lined the walls around us, leaving the center dark but for a great brazier which burned dully red. How it had been transported to the church, or even brought inside I had no clue. Doubtless it involved some form of magic, just as the removal of the pews must have required, and I had to remind myself once again that these were not people around me. These were angels and demons, a witch and a sorceress, and I was vampire. The world outside did not exist, it had no influence upon us, placed no bounds on our desires. I felt myself as a goddess and the lust in my heart was not that of a sixteen year old girl, but of an ancient soul born of hellfire and birthed into this innocent age.

Christine had led me in and now she took her place. The twelve members of the Society formed six triangles around the brazier, and those six formed two greater triangles, as you would find in a Star of David, with members at each apex and intersection, but this was obvious by no means. I had only some small sense to guide me. There were no instructions, or none that a mortal would easily recognize as such. Instead you may imagine that there was a will which formed my movements, guiding me into my proper position before that great fire in our midst. I knelt and though I was close enough to touch the rough cast iron shell of the thing and feel its blistering heat, I felt no pain. I didn't burn. I'd been baptized with Argent Vive, the first force of nature and the foundation of existence. It was a protection against such fires as this.

They were chanting, my brothers and sisters of our exclusive faith, weaving a spell to call forth that which is neither holy nor unholy, but neutral in all respects. He would not care if I was evil, or what cause I had served previously. The warmth that washed over my flesh without consuming me was a purifying force, an aspect of that which we served. It cleansed me completely and prepared me as my fellows opened the way for the Master's coming.

I opened my robe, and there seemed a breeze, becoming a wind and then a tempest, but it disturbed nothing else. My brothers and sisters were unaffected, the candles did not flicker. But my cloak billowed around me, my hair was tossed and I was forced to close my eyes and purse my lips tightly as my body shook in its fury. I lifted my face, sensing his presence and he appeared, the spirit of all that is material, all that can be felt and seen and touched. A portion of the universe itself, composed of earth and fire and water and air, and formed into a great wyrm, a dragon of myth rising before me, writhing in the leaping flames of the brazier.

He was beautiful, so much so that I should weep blood before I have again looked upon anything so fair. Laid bare to the beast, the storm surrounding me ripped away my cloak, and he drew me to him without hesitation or fear, taking me in his claws and pulling me up, off my feet and into the flames. This is a dream, I thought. It must be for none of the others have seen this, they're unaware of what is happening. He placed me upon a bed of fire, or so it seemed to my feverish brain. My heart would not pause, nor would it beat, I had no pulse, merely a vibration deep within my breast. I could feel my nipples rising hard and long, stretching for his long serpent's tongue as it whipped from those gaping jaws. My sex was ablaze with desire, the heat within my tender walls equaling that without. I caught sight of the dragon's penis, long and thick and prehensile as it seemed to curl around my vulnerable form.

The creature's tail was also moving, insinuating itself around my limbs, feeling metallic and liquid, like golden mercury given life. It was smooth and warm and the flesh of the beast caressed my own even as he bound me within his tender coils. I was caught as a willing victim, bending my body to him, offering myself with every part of me being. The dragon entered me, the sharp tip of his penis resembling more the nib of a giant's pen, flaring like a spade near the base and drawing to a thin malignant point upon which I was suddenly impaled.

My sex was split and great waves of pain and pleasure fought for dominance as I lent my shrieking voice to the furious gale around us. He plunged deep into my womb, spearing the innermost part of my being and holding me there, locked tightly upon that bitter-sweet penetration. And I felt his ejaculate pouring forth, a flood of fire which my body could not contain. My belly became swollen with it, distending as if I'd become suddenly pregnant. I gasped as a great orgasm stole through me, and another and another and there came to me an understanding, an alien communication which defied simple words. This was the conjunction, the coupling of my spirit with the universe.