Morgan Rice - Resurrected

What troubled him most was that, when he saw her, for the first time in his entire existence, he actually sensed something unusual: he felt he was in the presence of another immortal being. He knew right away that she was not one of his. Which meant she could only be one thing: a vampire. The last remaining vampire on earth.

The thought sent a shiver up his spine. Despite everything, he feared his clan had found her after all, and that the legend was real. Which meant a cure might be out there. Why now? With just a few weeks left to go? Of course, he wanted to live, just like all of them. But he would never want to live at the expense of someone else. Especially at her expense.

As Sage opened the huge, arched front door, he was greeted by a host of activity: as usual, his clan members loafed around the place, spread out in the grand room, sitting in chairs and couches, reading ancient leather-bound books, or ambling about and strolling on the patio. He’d lost count of how many cousins he had, but he knew at least a dozen of them had come back with them to this sprawling mansion. Being an Immortalist had its advantages, and time had been kind to them: none of them looked older than 18. A mix of boys and girls, while they were all close to 2,000 years old, like him, one would never know it. They were all gorgeous – with perfect, sculpted faces, flawless, looking as if they could grace covers of magazines. Some were dressed in the latest fashions – tight-fitting jeans, slim leather jackets – while others wore more regal, traditional outfits from other centuries – like long, black velvet cloaks with high collars. They all looked fashionable, and it was like walking into a modeling shoot.

Sage scanned the room, looking for any sign of Lore. It was their first day back here, and he couldn’t believe Lore already had the audacity to go out and sap a human. Already, Sage’s presence here was compromised; Lore had managed to cause trouble, to make life harder for him, to make them even more conspicuous in this town.

He looked carefully but saw no sign of him – he was probably off on his drug high. Probably lying on the roof, if he knew him.

“Mom and Dad want to see you,” suddenly came a voice.

Sage turned and saw walking past him, his older sister, Phoenicia. With long, straight, jet black hair and wide black eyes, she looked nothing like Sage. She acted nothing like him, either. She could be competitive, jealous and territorial. Throughout the centuries, the two of them had a complicated relationship, often fraught with tension. Sage felt that she was always in competition with him, always trying to get their parents’ attention, to shine more than he did. That was fine with Sage – he could care less about his parents’ attention – but nonetheless, they always seemed to favor him, and that drove her crazy. She let it out on him. She seemed perpetually mad at him, and nothing seemed to change it.

She could also be controlling and manipulative. He never knew what to expect around her, and often felt as if he had to walk on eggshells. But at the same time, sometimes she could surprise him and be unexpectedly sweet and vulnerable, totally catching him off guard. Sometimes she even confided in him. He never knew what to expect.

“I watched you at school today,” she reported.

He was shocked; he’d had no idea she’d been spying on him. He wondered if she did it on her own, or if her parents had planted her as a spy, to keep track of him.

“You didn’t even try to talk to her. I told Mom and Dad, and they’re really pissed. Brace yourself,” she said, as she hurried off.

“Thanks,” he answered. “Knew I could always count on you to put in a good word.”

It was just like her, causing friction between him and his parents already. Already ratting him out. His face turned red with frustration. He resented her, and he resented his parents. He wasn’t sure who he resented more. Not because they were all breathing down his neck and forcing him to.

Sage hurried through the vast, cavernous rooms of the mansion, through an arched door, down an endless corridor, across a bare room with wide-plank wood floors, up a wide, marble staircase, and finally, to a set of arched, double doors. His parents’ study.

He knocked three times, and waited.

“Come in,” came his Dad’s muted voice. He could already sense that he was unhappy. He braced himself as he entered.

Seated behind the wide desk were his dad and mom. They both sat in high-backed leather chairs, staring back coldly. They did not look happy. Clearly, they had expected Sage to come running home from school and report to them right away. He could sense how impatient they were, on-edge. The end of their lifespan was getting to them, too. They had no time to waste, and they were mad because he’d wasted a precious day.

They were right. He had not rushed home. He had not even taken his car today, but had chosen to walk. He’d ambled about the school grounds, walked through the town, then took a long walk, slowly, back home. He wanted time to think, to process it all, to sort out his feelings for this girl. What he felt terrified him. It was a sense of a deep connection, a deep love towards her.

Why now? he wondered. Why now, with only a few weeks left to live? When there was no time for their love to blossom? Why had he had to meet her now? Why couldn’t they have met centuries before?

“Why the delay?” his dad asked, wasting no time.

“Close the door,” his mom snapped. Clearly, neither of them were in the mood for pleasantries.

Sage closed the door behind him, running through potential responses in his head. He resented, after all these centuries, still having to answer to them. Somehow it seemed to be a necessary evil, just part of the way things worked. It was especially unsettling because, they, being Immortalists, looked to be his own age, hardly older than 18.

He crossed the room and sat across from them. He felt like he was a little kid again, and hated it. He considered possible responses, and decided it was best, for now, just to set them at ease.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

They stared back, not bothering to respond.

“You’re on a mission,” his dad reminded sternly. “We have no time. Are you not aware of that?”

“I am aware.”

“So why the delay?” retorted his mom, impatient.

“I lost track of time,” he lied.

His mother shook her head.

“Just like your sister. A dreamer. You still don’t realize, do you? In a few weeks, you’ll be dead. We’ll all be dead. Does that mean nothing to you?”

“I did that which you asked of me,” he replied. “I went there. I was in the school. I saw her.”

“And?” his father prodded.

He paused.

“I did not have a chance to speak with her yet,” he said.

His parents both sat up in their chairs, outraged. They were about to speak, but he cut them off.

“It was a crowded school,” Sage said. “She was surrounded by friends. There was no way to approach her in an inconspicuous way. She was not alone for a second. I’m sorry. Perhaps tomorrow there will be more opportunity.”

His father slowly shook his head, looking disappointed.

“I knew we made a mistake choosing your for this task. It is just as it always has been. Excuses. Delays. Don’t you understand!?” he suddenly screamed. “This is not a mission of pleasantries! It is one of urgency!” he slammed his fist into the desk, rattling the china cup on it.

A tense silence fell over the room. Sage wanted to yell back, but thought it best to keep calm for now. If he wanted to save Scarlet, he had to stay calm and divert attention away from her.

“I’m not convinced she is the one, anyway,” Sage said. “I feel confident that, once again, you’re wasting your time,” he lied.