She felt like she had cotton absorbing all of the moisture in her mouth. She opened one eye.

“F*cking hell,“ she muttered as she tried to sit up, only to be knocked back by the pain.

She had a splitting headache and her entire body felt abused. It was then she remembered that Valdimer, her former love, had killed her. When her head throbbed, ruining her train of thought, she muttered curses again. More slowly this time, she sat up, and found herself alone in a desolate city.

“So much for being immortal,“ she muttered to no one but herself, laying a hand on her forehead.

She sat up, wincing. There was a haze so thick that it made her wonder if she was dreaming. Attempting to stand, she noticed everything around her looked so dead, so vacant, so incredibly lonely. The locale normally would have suited her perfectly; however, it gave her the chills this time.

“F*ck...f*ck ....Kaine I need a new word.“ She knew now that Kaine, the creator of her kind, would not be there to save her. She was a religious woman once, one who believed in God and all His glory. She had turned from that path to something darker, not by choice, but by force. Kaine existed, even in the Bible, but it was never taught the way her kind was taught. But that is another story. You were forced to believe in not only God, but also Kaine. How could you not when you were turned into something as she was? She was a vampire. She couldn't help but to think back to the day of her first death, the day she was turned. Her twin sister was missing and Clarice was sent out with a small group from the church to search for her. The closer they got to where her sister was last seen, the more uneasy she became. One by one her search party abandoned her, out of fear, though she never noticed they were no longer with her. She was too focused on finding her twin sister; the bond they shared assured her that if she did not find her, a part of her would be dead. She remembered she had smirked at that unlikely thought, if only because it was not an option in her mind. She would find her sister. Clarice was partly right however, she was right about death coming to her.

It all happened in a blur, she had seen her sister! She ran through the woods without aim or direction. Because of that, she lost her bearings. Out of the shadows they came. At the time she would not know what they were, but among them was her sister. Her sister spoke to her, a myriad of words she did not understand, in a voice that was unfamiliar. Clarice had tried to ask questions in return, her joy apparent; she was so glad her sister was alive. Her sister's somber mood was not lifted, however, at the reunion. She did not remember the precise moment her sister captured her, bound her, and took her to what was referred to as “her master.“ A powerful man, his face contorted in a sick smile, put his lips to her neck, and she drifted blissfully off to sleep, powerless to do otherwise. It was not a harsh death, if anything she would learn it was most ideal. But that first time she had died, she had not seen the lonely place she was in now. Why? The man had marked her with the bite of immortality. They were not gods, however, and could be destroyed.

Today she learned what that destruction felt like. She looked down at her hand, its once crushed skin and bones now tidied into order, the skin was only bruised. It was almost good as new. The startling fact that her entire body was once again in one piece did not comfort her, her mouth was dry and she hurt like hell.

Maybe this is hell, she thought as she looked around. The air smelled like sulfur. Smells like hell. Looks like hell. “Feels like Hell,“ she murmured as she brought a hand to her chest where a burning was resonating in her lungs. She smirked momentarily at her next thought, where is the fire of damnation and the man with the pointy horns personally escorting me to my fate?

Suddenly, as if the rest of her world was coming into focus, people rushed around her. The sights and sounds came speeding in, like watching something in fast-forward. Around her, in that dark, misted world, were people. She quickly put up the large spacious hood of the robe she found herself adored in and tried to blend in. Where the hell was she? As she walked quickly, she took note of her surroundings. It looked like New York City, only darker, and more empty.

“Welcome Clarice....welcome...welcome....welcome Clarice....“ The voices came now, taunting, from all around her. Each person she passed said “welcome...“ smiling in some sort of knowing way, while not making eye contact, “...one of us....Welcome...WELCOME!“ It made little sense to her. She picked up the pace. She ducked her head down, the people around her moving out of her way, yet they were close enough to make her feel suffocated. Something was wrong. She was dead, she knew that, she had been for thousands of years. But she wasn't the same kind of dead. She knew she made no sense.

It was then that she slammed into someone, “Move.“

The hooded figure stood, unmoving, as Clarice barked her order. A voice came from within the robed figure that blocked her. “You know, on Kronos, you'd be killed where you stand for an order like that,“ pulling the hood off, James B. Picard let his hands run through his short, blonde hair. “You don't belong here, at least not yet anyway.“

It was after his words that she realized who it was. It was an acquaintance she had worked with in many of her mishaps, a geek who followed Star Trek like it was a religion. His quirkiness usually made her smile. She supposed death was the reason she wasn't smiling, it had a way of making things a bit less funny.

Pulling down the hood of his robe, James reached for her hand. “C'mon, let's go somewhere that's not full of these... hollows.“ She shivered as she looked at them. Their eyes were empty. How had she not noticed?

“This place gives me the f*cking creeps,“ stated Clarice. For Clarice, that statement said a lot. “James? What the hell are...“ She stopped dead in her tracks.

The realization slammed into her like a semi. She suddenly realized that her lungs were burning because she was inhaling sulfur. How could she be breathing? Oh God. Breathing? She tried it again. In. Out. Lungs...expanding. What...the hell? She flicked her tongue along her teeth. Her fangs? Gone? She got dizzy. Her face paled. She broke out in a cold sweat. These were all things she had not done since the day she had been brought into immortality. She felt human.

She backed away from James, “...No, no...no no no..." Her voice was desperate for a moment as she fought back tears, “Please...no.“ Her voice was a whisper, edged in an agony only Clarice would know. She had lived 23 years as a human, 18 of those were torturous, disciplined, and ruled by an iron fist called the church. That was almost 4500 years ago. She closed her eyes tight, squeezing out a real tear. It was warm as it slid down her face. She told herself it was only her imagination, it had to be!

“It's real.“ He said as his thumb brushed the tear at her cheek, tasting it. “I supposed you have a lot of questions, and I can imagine what one of the first is going to be...“

All works and artwork copyright of their respective artists. Material on this site may not be altered in any way, shape, or form. It may not be used without explicit author consent.