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| Excerpt from Resurrected Copry rights of Eris Publishing |
| Prologue Here I am Deirdra O'Dea, one of the undead. Maybe you know who I am. I live amoung humans, drink their blood for my survival. I kill with mercy and I love the mortals that give that sacrifice for me. If you know of me and my beloved family of blood drinkers, you can skip the next few pararaphs. For those of you who are just entering my world of darkness, come carefully and fully aware that we exist and live amoung you. I will tell the things I believe to be imprortant and necesary for you to understand and follow my tale. I was given the gift of immortality in 1795, Ireland. I am just barely over two centuries old, but my body is still in the form of a radiant twenty-three year old. My eyes shine cobalt blue and blond curly hair rests just below my shoulders. I am only five-foot three and tiny in stature. You may ask, how do I know I look this way? It is a common belief that vampires cannot see their reflection. Well, we can. We can look in a mirror and love our reflection; we can enter a church or touch a cross, for religious icons do not harm us in any way at all. We cannot turn into green mist, bats, rats or any other crazy notion. We do however drink blood. It is what keeps us alive and sane. And coffins, well, I have slept in them in the past but no more sleeping in tight |
| cramped spaces for me! I would much rather sleep in a large bed with silk sheets. The only things I know of that can harm us are the sunlight, fire and beheading. As for my family of blood-drinkers, we are few. We are the only vampires I know, although I am not so ignorant to believe we are the only survivors. I know there are more. Mylana is my vampiric mother and Brenna is my vampiric daughter. I love both with such affection and hate. For myself, I cannot be with one or the other for too long before I have to leave and be by myself. My lover and friend, Elijah, is one of the oldest vampires I know. The only other elder is Eme, his beloved immortal sister; their vampiric father was the Blood God. And if you're looking for a Paris vampire, well, Lacroix is it, the ruler of the vampire coven just outside of the old city. With his thick French accent and powerful green eyes, he could make any mortal his sacrifice - willingly. The only one in my clan I don't know much about or trust is Kristine, very new to the vampire world, and new to my family. This story I am about to begin, is a combination of what I experienced and of my family and their ordeals - from their lips to these pages. It is a continuation of my last tale, so I should tell you briefly about it. Years passed peacefully in the late twentieth century, life was the usual. But as quickly as dreadful things can arise, this horror resonated like the wailing of a Banshee. A Blood God, as he liked to call himself, came back from the black abyss of a tomb in Cairo to take upon himself punishement of the vampire's that tried to kill him. Elijah and Eme were two of the threesome that had been made vampires unwillingly and needed to escape his smothering grasp. They knew their only escape from him would be his death. They thought they had successfully killed the Blood God, but over the millennia his body healed, was resurrected and he came to fulfill his judgment upon those who had tried to kill him and those they knew and loved. I was one of those who were hunted. I am glad to say that it ended favorably; the Blood God was beheaded and burned to cinders. If you don't know this story and wish to know it, you must become familiar with my first novice attempt at storytelling, Beyond the Threshold of Death. Now four years later, months before a new millennium, the ghosts of our past came back to haunt us. The Adam of the dark world came looking for his Eve. He wanted me........... |