Ghost of You
Awakening the Undead
Jonathan Pascal, or Pax to his friends, was walking through the busy roads of New Orleans to where his family crypts were; situated near the middle of Saint Louis # 1 his ancestors were laid to rest. He hadn't known any of them, but they were still family- and really the only family he had left anymore. So dead or not he was going to have a relationship with them somehow. And visiting was the best way.
His friends thought Pax was rather morbid, but he didn't see it that way. They were the last family he knew about, his parents having abandoned him years ago when he was a child. Not that he ever knew why they'd left, but one day they had just never come home and he had become a ward of the state and bounced around from home to home for the rest of his childhood.
But now as an adult he had returned to the place he felt most at home, to New Orleans. The variety of color in life in New Orleans made everything worth while, made life worth living at all. And that was rather important for Pax, since he'd had so little to drive him on for most of his life.
Twisting the flowers in his hand as he entered the cemetery, nervous now for the spirits here all seemed so restless to him. That was the other thing about Pax his friends didn't understand, for he felt spirits. Rarely, if they appeared, he could talk to them; but that was once in a very distant blue moon. Not that he minded, spirits were comforting companions most days and had always been there- his silent friends in the dark.
But today was no normal day for Pax, because today was the day fate was about to change for him; today was the day his life became much more difficult.
Underneath the cemetery, in a tomb none but the builders and the inhabitants knew of now, a pair of dark purple eyes shot open as Pax's feet touched the ground of the cemetery. Somehow, the owner of those eyes knew something was different.
There was a presence that was pulling him, taunting him, tantalizing in it's closeness but terrifying in his need and exhilarating in it's distance. He knew, the owner of these purple eyes, that whoever this energy belonged to… was needed. He craved that energy, that soul who had just awoken him from a two century sleep.
"Gerard," The voice was weak, raspy. "Gerard?" A sinking feeling filled the gut of the monster with purple eyes. He didn't hear an answer, and knew at that moment it was possible his thrall's affections had been faked. Which was possible, as he'd been a thrall, a person under control. And his sleeping would have given control back to Gerard. "Gerard, are you there?"
Sickening moments of silence followed question, no noise or movement disturbed the crypt. Nothing at all, until.
"Master! I am sorry," Gerard appeared from where he'd been standing, unnoticed and unmoving in the darkness, his soul barely registered to his master. The difference in a human and an immortal soul was staggering, and to a starving demihuman it was impossible to sense the latter. "I must have dozed off waiting, but I have never left my post. We remain, through it all, unharmed and unseen. I have even ensured that human technology, as it is truly amazing now master, has not been able to find us."
"Must have been hard." Master's voice was still raspy, but stronger. Dragging in a breath he began to cough. "Water, please Gerard."
"Of course, Master." Gerard stiffly bowed and rushed to get his master water. He also, due to being nonhuman anymore, ran fast enough to the top of the crypt to see if there were humans about. And, to his luck, there were. A family with children, small wandering children, was walking through the cemetery. Grabbing a child would be easy enough if he could get his Master the water and come back quick enough.
Running at his fastest pace, Gerard navigated himself back through the crypt without wasting one bit of water. Returning to his Master, with a bow, he presented the water again. Kneeling very quickly, Gerard looked up at his beloved Master, who's face he'd watched sleep for two centuries- unmoving.
"Master, if you will permit me, I crave your permission to gather you food. It is daylight and you are not strong enough to withstand it yet, but I can."
"You may go, Gerard. But be diligent, I do not wish to lose you." his Master replied, grabbing him weakly and pulling him in for a kiss. Gerard could have easily broken the grasp, but it had been so long since he'd been in his Master's embrace, receiving his kisses. Years of being alone with nothing but his Master's sleeping body had left Gerard in need, and he would take whatever he could get by the way of affection.
"Thank you, Master." And with that, Gerard was gone. He hopped with all of his no longer beating heart that the family would still be there, walking with their wandering children. Humans, it seemed, had not changed much in the years. Children were still left unattended, they still wandered, and were still easy prey.
Thankfully the family was still there, meandering through the cemetery at such a slow pace. Tourism, they called it now, although that's not what it was called back when he was a human. Idle hands is what it had been called back then, idle hands and idle minds. One of the children kept wandering rather far from their family.
Young, pliable, and definitely full of innocence and with a soul purer than the first snows. Children always had pure souls, and the purer the soul the more energy his master would get from the soul. Sidling away from the crypt, carefully remaining in the mid-morning shadows, Gerard stalked the child.
Grabbing this child would be easy work, easier still with the chemicals Gerard had been able to procure. Ether and Chloroform had been difficult to find, but both would knock a child out rather soon, and with little struggle. Lucky for Gerard this part of the cemetery was secluded but not hidden from the sounds of the streets. Noisy humans.
Meanwhile, not far away, Pax walked through the cemetery himself. Glad for once that tourism was low in the morning, for he had a lot to talk about with his family, and many tourists always looked weirdly at the crazy french boy who talked to the dead.
A shiver ran down his spine as the spirits became more restless, something had changed their mood within the last few moments. It was rare he'd ever felt this kind of disturbance, it was almost as if the spirits of the dead were telling him to leave, to run.
Why would they tell him to run?
His friends thought Pax was rather morbid, but he didn't see it that way. They were the last family he knew about, his parents having abandoned him years ago when he was a child. Not that he ever knew why they'd left, but one day they had just never come home and he had become a ward of the state and bounced around from home to home for the rest of his childhood.
But now as an adult he had returned to the place he felt most at home, to New Orleans. The variety of color in life in New Orleans made everything worth while, made life worth living at all. And that was rather important for Pax, since he'd had so little to drive him on for most of his life.
Twisting the flowers in his hand as he entered the cemetery, nervous now for the spirits here all seemed so restless to him. That was the other thing about Pax his friends didn't understand, for he felt spirits. Rarely, if they appeared, he could talk to them; but that was once in a very distant blue moon. Not that he minded, spirits were comforting companions most days and had always been there- his silent friends in the dark.
But today was no normal day for Pax, because today was the day fate was about to change for him; today was the day his life became much more difficult.
Underneath the cemetery, in a tomb none but the builders and the inhabitants knew of now, a pair of dark purple eyes shot open as Pax's feet touched the ground of the cemetery. Somehow, the owner of those eyes knew something was different.
There was a presence that was pulling him, taunting him, tantalizing in it's closeness but terrifying in his need and exhilarating in it's distance. He knew, the owner of these purple eyes, that whoever this energy belonged to… was needed. He craved that energy, that soul who had just awoken him from a two century sleep.
"Gerard," The voice was weak, raspy. "Gerard?" A sinking feeling filled the gut of the monster with purple eyes. He didn't hear an answer, and knew at that moment it was possible his thrall's affections had been faked. Which was possible, as he'd been a thrall, a person under control. And his sleeping would have given control back to Gerard. "Gerard, are you there?"
Sickening moments of silence followed question, no noise or movement disturbed the crypt. Nothing at all, until.
"Master! I am sorry," Gerard appeared from where he'd been standing, unnoticed and unmoving in the darkness, his soul barely registered to his master. The difference in a human and an immortal soul was staggering, and to a starving demihuman it was impossible to sense the latter. "I must have dozed off waiting, but I have never left my post. We remain, through it all, unharmed and unseen. I have even ensured that human technology, as it is truly amazing now master, has not been able to find us."
"Must have been hard." Master's voice was still raspy, but stronger. Dragging in a breath he began to cough. "Water, please Gerard."
"Of course, Master." Gerard stiffly bowed and rushed to get his master water. He also, due to being nonhuman anymore, ran fast enough to the top of the crypt to see if there were humans about. And, to his luck, there were. A family with children, small wandering children, was walking through the cemetery. Grabbing a child would be easy enough if he could get his Master the water and come back quick enough.
Running at his fastest pace, Gerard navigated himself back through the crypt without wasting one bit of water. Returning to his Master, with a bow, he presented the water again. Kneeling very quickly, Gerard looked up at his beloved Master, who's face he'd watched sleep for two centuries- unmoving.
"Master, if you will permit me, I crave your permission to gather you food. It is daylight and you are not strong enough to withstand it yet, but I can."
"You may go, Gerard. But be diligent, I do not wish to lose you." his Master replied, grabbing him weakly and pulling him in for a kiss. Gerard could have easily broken the grasp, but it had been so long since he'd been in his Master's embrace, receiving his kisses. Years of being alone with nothing but his Master's sleeping body had left Gerard in need, and he would take whatever he could get by the way of affection.
"Thank you, Master." And with that, Gerard was gone. He hopped with all of his no longer beating heart that the family would still be there, walking with their wandering children. Humans, it seemed, had not changed much in the years. Children were still left unattended, they still wandered, and were still easy prey.
Thankfully the family was still there, meandering through the cemetery at such a slow pace. Tourism, they called it now, although that's not what it was called back when he was a human. Idle hands is what it had been called back then, idle hands and idle minds. One of the children kept wandering rather far from their family.
Young, pliable, and definitely full of innocence and with a soul purer than the first snows. Children always had pure souls, and the purer the soul the more energy his master would get from the soul. Sidling away from the crypt, carefully remaining in the mid-morning shadows, Gerard stalked the child.
Grabbing this child would be easy work, easier still with the chemicals Gerard had been able to procure. Ether and Chloroform had been difficult to find, but both would knock a child out rather soon, and with little struggle. Lucky for Gerard this part of the cemetery was secluded but not hidden from the sounds of the streets. Noisy humans.
Meanwhile, not far away, Pax walked through the cemetery himself. Glad for once that tourism was low in the morning, for he had a lot to talk about with his family, and many tourists always looked weirdly at the crazy french boy who talked to the dead.
A shiver ran down his spine as the spirits became more restless, something had changed their mood within the last few moments. It was rare he'd ever felt this kind of disturbance, it was almost as if the spirits of the dead were telling him to leave, to run.
Why would they tell him to run?