Beyond the Prophecy

Lying in bed, I racked my brain for the name ma mentioned in the dream. Arawn... Arawn... I've never heard that name before. Was it a nickname for someone? Did he know me at some point in my life? What was his connection to ma? So many questions unanswered, and it was only nine in the morning. As much as I wanted to fall asleep for a few more hours, the dream made me too alert. And if that wasn't enough, my rumbling stomach protested against the idea of falling back into a deep slumber. Leda jumping onto my bed and chirping like crazy told me that she felt the same, so I made sure that filling her bowl with cat food was the first thing I did once rising from my bed.

I grabbed a pair of fitted green sweats and a white tee, along with clean underwear and made my way to the bathroom. And after I was done cleaning up, I came out and was relieved to see that Leda ate most of her food. Now I know I can feed her normal food and not just carrion, and I really hope it doesn't change.

Stuffing my cell phone into my laptop bag, I slid my feet into my slippers and roamed the mansion for the kitchen, starting on the first floor. Common areas are usually located on the ground floor, and after walking towards the left side of the mansion and going through a few doors I found it. It was the only room that I knew of, so far, that had a swinging door.

The kitchen was just as impressive as the other rooms I’ve seen. Sunlight went straight to my eyes when I walked in; it emanated from the floor-to-ceiling window directly across from me, and that window nearly stretched from one end of the kitchen to the other. So much light came from it that the rectangular light fixture hanging from the ceiling didn’t need to be turned on. The sunlight also made the wooden table and benches adjacent from it seem lighter than the varnish made them. Parallel to them was a matching island that had a beige granite countertop. To the right of the window was the steel stove, which had a flat glass cook top and an oven beneath it. Black cabinets lined the wall to my left and matched the microwave fixed on the wall with them. The beige granite countertop went nicely with the stainless steel faucet and handles of the sink, along with the stainless steel dishwasher beneath it.

Walking in a little more, I noticed the wine cooler fixed on the wall like the cabinets, but its case was made of glass instead, and next to that was the stainless steel refrigerator. All that was on the wall to my right were floor cabinets, a cordless phone in the corner and a flat screen TV in the middle of the counter. But not everything in this kitchen was a dark color; the white tiles on the floor had flecks of beige in it, matching not only the countertops but the bricks on the wall between the top cabinets and counters, the wall was painted beige and the ceiling was white. I’ve never seen a kitchen remotely close to this before. Makes my old one look like shit.

Since some of the people living here are vampires, I hoped that the kitchen would be empty. It wasn't, but at least it wasn't Chris sitting at the table and eating a sandwich. The one who was there, however, was familiar to me. When I first saw him his shoulder length hair was tied back, but he left it loose today, matching the casual look his black sweats and gray sweatshirt gave him. I recognized him from the night Chris and I came back from Escape; he was one of the servants that helped us carry my stuff inside.

The moment he noticed me he stood upright. "Good morning, Mistress Natasha. Is there something you'd like for breakfast?"

My eyebrow arched. Is this guy for real? "I would actually, but I can make something for myself." Even after I spoke, he stayed standing. I couldn't tell if I was supposed to sit down before he did or if he was just waiting for permission. "Are you going to stand the whole time that I'm here?"

"It's rude to sit before you do," he said matter-of-factly.

Ah, so it was the former choice. "No, it's okay. You can sit."

Hesitantly, he took his seat and continued eating his sandwich.

After placing my bag beside the seat across from him, I made my way to the fridge. "You know, you don't have to act like that with me."

"Act like what, Mistress Natasha?"

"Formal," I said before taking out a carton of milk, some eggs and sausages. "It makes me feel strange. Just treat me like you'd treat anyone else." There were rashers in the fridge too, so I took them out. "Call me Natasha, no 'mistress.' You can even call me Tasha; my mates do that sometimes. Don't stand every time I walk in the room, and don't be so stiff." When I placed everything on the island, I glanced in his direction. "Just be natural."

"Sorry," he said, sighing. "None of us are used to being...casual, with anyone. It's always formalities."

I went back to the fridge and took out a pack of sliced bread. "Well none of you are my servants, so you don't have to worry about it."

"Technically, we are."

"Even if that's true I'm not going to treat any of you like one. I've been taking care of myself for a long time, so I don't expect anyone to do all the work for me or cower at my presence. I'm not as uptight as Chris, so I don't care."

His laughter came before he could stop it, though he tried to hide it with a fake cough. "Most people are afraid of talking about Master Chris like that."

I smirked. "Most people aren't me." We smiled. "What's your name? I don't think you told me."

"I'm Michael."

I glanced at the plate that held his "breakfast": thin slices of ham and cheese between a pair of bread slices. "Is that supposed to be your breakfast?"

"Uh-huh. It's quick."

"Quick?" I shook my head. "Where's the fire? You shouldn't rush breakfast. I'm going to make myself a fry-up. Since your sandwich is pitiful, I'll make one for you too."

He smiled. "What's a fry-up?"

"A full breakfast," I said, grinning.

Michael abandoned his sandwich to help me make the morning fry-up. While he fried the sausages and toasted slices of bread, I worked on frying the rashers and eggs soon after. We filled up our plates with an even share of it all and then sat at the table. I always drink a glass of milk with my fry-up, but Michael preferred a glass of orange juice for himself.

"Where's Chris? I want to know what places to avoid."

He chuckled. "He's out, feeding."

"During the day? I thought vampires were nocturnal."

He took a sip of his juice with a nod. "They are, but daywalkers are like humans in that sense. Master Chris prefers to feed at night, since it's easier to blend in when the sun's down, but he didn't get that chance last night before he went to get you and bring you back here."

"Oh." I ate some of my eggs and rashers before breaking the silence. "How does that work exactly? The whole vampire feeding I mean. Does he turn into a bat and fly into a sleeping woman's flat before sucking her veins dry?"

Michael nearly spat out his juice from laughing so much. "No way. Vampires don't turn into bats or fly. Plus, there's too much blood in a human for a vampire to be able to drink every drop of it."

"How much do they drink?"

"A little more than three quarts of it a day. Humans have four or five quarts, so there's still some blood left even after a vampire's well fed. But because a vampire takes almost all of it, a human dies because they can't produce more blood fast enough to live. Kind of like when someone bleeds to death."

"A person dies from it every night...I couldn't do that; I couldn’t sacrifice all those lives for my own."

"Some people do what it takes to survive, no matter what you have to go through."

"I couldn't live with myself if I killed someone every night just because I'm hungry, or thirsty, or whatever you call it. How can he?"

The word cruel was one I'd used to describe Chris from the moment I met him. I concentrated so much on the horrible things he's done to me that I didn't even think about what he could be doing to others. Who is he to decide what person becomes food, what person gets to die? All just for his own survival? It's hardly fair. One victim per day; three hundred and sixty five victims in a single year. I don't even want to think how many there's been in his prolonged lifetime.

When both of us were done eating, I helped Michael rinse the dishes and place them in the dishwasher. As I grabbed my bag I asked where the library was and he was nice enough to lead me there. Then he thanked me for breakfast and went elsewhere.

The library looked very collegiate. Half the room was taken up by a sofa, armchair, loveseat and a flat panel TV on a metal stand with a coffee table in the middle that matched end tables on either side of the sofa. A matching pair of blue area rugs sat atop light gray carpeting; one rug was beneath the living room set while the other lied under a red cedar table with six matching chairs around it. The white walls matched the ceiling, but the walls were almost completely covered by tall bookshelves. If it wasn't for the large window across the room and the metal ceiling light fixture giving off light, the library’s lighting would’ve been brooding.

I scanned the bookshelves until I found the appropriate book: Japanese Folklore and Mythology. Before going through it, I turned on my laptop and went on the internet. Now I can really see which resource gives me the most information.

The internet did have something, but it wasn't as much as I hoped. All I knew was that a nekomata's tail splits gradually and that it's called a bake-neko until it's transformation's complete. I doubted that the book would have more information than the websites I visited, but I shook my head in disbelief when I saw pages and pages of information. The ones I concentrated on, however, were on her physical attributes.

A nekomata is a domestic cat with supernatural abilities. A cat becomes a nekomata after it’s reached their tenth year. Evidence of this transformation can be the cat's sudden changes in behavior, i.e. becoming more irate or irritable, walking on their hind legs and the development of a forked tail... The abilities connected to a nekomata are the reanimation and manipulation of corpses, shapeshifting into a human and shamanic healing... A nekomata's diet consists mostly of carrion, especially for feral cats... Nekomata are known for being hostile towards humans and holding grudges, especially if mistreated. As revenge a nekomata would animate the owner's deceased relatives to haunt and torment them until placated with food, attention or an apology...

Oh, wow. I really hope I never piss Leda off.

I left the book on the desk and searched for another one, but this time the book would be on a different topic. Whenever I would ask Chris any questions, he wouldn't answer. Luckily, Michael was willing to talk, but I don't want to go to him and ask too many questions in case Chris finds out. And if these books are as accurate as he claims, then maybe it can give me more information on vampires.

There were at least twenty possible books but I settled on one in particular. The Vhampyr: 1950-2000. It was part of a series of books which has dates that go all the way back to ancient history. The bind of this dark brown book was just as worn as the others in the series, and its only cover art was the title written across the front in gold.

Glancing in the index, I looked for one particular subject and was happy to discover it: A vampire's weaknesses. Surprisingly, holy items didn't affect them at all. Garlic repels them and so does aconitum, whatever that is. But I've never heard of poppy seeds affecting a vampire too; it makes them sedative. And the way to kill a vampire is either through sunlight (with daywalkers being the exception), setting them on fire or beheading them. Staking their heart with a sharp object works too, but all it does is paralyzes them.

"Plotting a mutiny?" said a voice behind me.

I jumped in place and turned to see Chris behind me. "Jaysus, what the hell? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Perhaps. Is it working?"

"No," I said, glaring. "You shouldn't teleport behind someone like that. They might very well kill you for it someday."

"Is that why you're trying to find out how? Do you plan on killing me when I least suspect it?"

"I don't kill, unlike you. But it's nice to know what to do in case I might have to someday."

"Generally, I don't kill either."

"Liar. Every time you feed off of someone, they die."

"They die from blood loss, not from my bite."

"Don't try to be technical. They die because you stole the blood they need to survive." I slammed the book closed. "Did you actually want something or did you only want to add me to your kill count of the day?"

He smirked. "Just thought you should know there'll be a few visitors coming soon. You might want to tone down the bitchiness for them."

I glared a little more. "What makes them special?"

"They’re my family."

Okay, that I wasn't expecting. "Are they your biological family?"

"Yes."

It's still shocking. "How is that possible? Aren't you immortal?"

"So are they; my parents and my two sisters. Except that my younger sister, Emily, is in a way, adopted."

Emily. That name was mentioned last night. "Wait, so vampires can reproduce?"

"With humans, yes. With other vampires, no. It's exceedingly difficult for a female vampire to bear a child with a male human, yet it’s more common for a female human to bear a child with a male vampire."

"Which is exactly what the prophecy says we're meant to do." Gross. I can't imagine reproducing with him. "Why are they coming?"

He smirked again. "To see you."

"What? Why?"

"They want to see the woman I'm in love with."

My eyes widened before I took a step backwards and held my hand up. "Sorry?"

His smirk grew. "Somehow, my family believes that we're in love. How they made such a presumption I haven't the faintest idea. But if I didn't go along with it then things would have become more troublesome."

"I'd have to play along when they come?" I can't believe this guy.

"Yes. We'd have to keep up pretenses until after their departure. It wouldn't be enough to behave the appropriate way. Since vampires can sense emotions, you'd have to feel it as well."

I took a deep breath. "If you've been paying any attention to what I feel when you're around, you'd know how impossible that is."

"Then you're going to have to try like hell."

I moved closer to him and stared directly into his eyes. "I might, but only under one condition." I ignored the skepticism on his face and made my request anyway. "You have to ask me to do it. For a so-called prince, you're lacking in the manners department. If you asked me to do something instead of just demanding it, then there's a better chance of me cooperating."

He shot me a glare before looking away, his expression bitter. I rolled my eyes.

"What will it take for you to just be a little nice to me?" I asked in a calmer tone. "What do you have against me?"

He glanced back at me, but still didn't answer. My eyes opened, just a little, when he looked like he was going to speak. But I let out a sigh when he turned and walked away from me.

"Look, I'm serious―" I started to say when I grabbed his arm, but stopped when I felt the temperature of his skin. "It's warm," I said. "How can your skin be warm?"

"It's only that way after feeding, but it doesn't last." His eyes glanced at my hand briefly before looking back to me. "Could you let go now?"

"Oh, sorry. Wait, you asked me instead of demanding it."

"Believe it or not, I'm capable of being civilized."

I almost gave him a full smile, though it faded when he started walking away again. "Can you answer my other question then?"

He glanced back, looking unsure, and I walked over to the couch. Before sitting on it, I patted the armchair with a grin and then sat at the edge of the couch to face it. Chris shook his head, but to my surprise he made his way over and sat on the armchair. I think the cheesy grin on my face made his harsh expression falter a little, but it returned too quickly for me to be certain.

"Come on. It's practically permission to bash me. What makes you hate me so much?"

"You're stubborn, defiant, always talk back, never listen and cause me far too much trouble. I resent being near your presence more and more with every hour that passes."

"Right, you just described yourself, you know?" I smirked when he glared at me.

You’re quarrel with him is not due to your differences; it’s because you’re too much alike.

Ma's word from my dream last night surfaced in my mind. She was right. Everything I thought about Chris was dictated to me by him, supposedly describing me. Our personalities clashed because neither one of us was willing to back down. I wonder if he's realized it. But if that was true, could everything else she told me also be right?

You should know that Chris has had a difficult time with the prophecy as well.

"It's the prophecy," I said to him. "That's why you’re so against me, isn't it? You've been nasty to me from the beginning, even before we had a full conversation. The prophecy made you go against me, and the fact that I'm stubborn made things worse."

Perhaps you should ask him about it. You might be surprised at what you learn.

I took his silence to mean that I was right. "How?" I asked. "What about it makes things hard for you?"

He shook his head, stood and made his way towards the door again. I let out a deep sigh and stood as well. "Chris."

In the blink of an eye, I went from being a few feet away from him to being pushed against the wall. The collision hurt my back, but it hurt more because he held me in place my by shoulders. It wasn't as painful as it could be though; it was more uncomfortable than anything else. There was such an intense anger in his eyes that I was actually scared, but I didn't let it show. Yet, I know he was able to sense it. His eyes made it seem even more surreal; the light blue color was just a few shades away from being white.

"You wouldn't understand," he said harshly. "You've only known about the prophecy for days. I've known for decades. Everyone held me back. This fucking prophecy is a twisted form of a prearranged marriage to them but a mariage de convenance to me. I loathe it with a passion. I've been told too many times to wait until the perfect moment, when the prophecy can be set into motion. I've had to remain companionless for a lot longer than the duration of your own existence. Do you know how it feels to have everyone choose the kind of life you'd live without your input, opinion or consent? I decide shit for myself. I don't give a fuck about this prophecy, but I’ve gone along with it to keep everyone's mouth shut. The more I agree with them, the more they'd keep their distance and leave me the fuck alone."

"That doesn't mean you should take your anger out on me. I'm not the cause of the prophecy's existence; I'm a player in it, just like you. You hate people trying to decide things for you? Well that's exactly what you've been doing for me."

Little by little, his grip on my shoulders loosened and his eyebrows started to relax. I think he finally understood, just as I did. He never really knew why I always went against his orders, but now he knows. And at the same time, I never knew why he treated me like shit. Things were finally beginning to make sense. Not only did we clash because we were alike, but also because we were going through the same thing.

"I'm tired of fighting. Things only get worse because of it." We stood for a while, saying nothing to each other, until I broke the silence. "I'm sorry for what you had to go through. No one has a right to dictate someone else's life." If he sensed how I felt, he'd know I was being sincere.

But he didn't say a word. Instead he turned and went to the door beside me. I sighed and rested my head against the wall, but then I turned my head when I saw him stop at the doorway through my peripheral vision.

"I apologize as well," he said before looking at me.

I couldn't stop a small smile from coming, and even though his lips stayed stoic, I could tell there was a smile in his eyes. After he finally left, my smile actually grew a little more.

...It will be hard at first. But the events that will occur in the next few days will bring both of you closer.

It was hard to believe when ma said this, but I'm actually beginning to think she's right. What will happen in the next few days to make it true?
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Rashers: Individual strips of bacon, but it’s also Irish slang for "bacon."
Aconitum: A perennial plant with flowers that vary in color and has poisonous sap. Also known as aconite, monkshood, wolfsbane, leopard's bane, women's bane, Devil's helmet or blue rocket.
Mariage de convenance: a marriage contracted for reasons other than the reasons of relationship, family, or love, such as for citizenship