Cynthia & Spencer

Cynthia & Spencer – Their Saga

   The Turn of Love

by

B.D. Adams

©2014

(This will become a continuing story from “Night of Promise” Parts 1 & 2. A love story, however, with quirks for the squeamish.)

            Cynthia had an epiphany! Not a religious awakening, but a conscious jolt! She awoke with a wicked start! Her mind whirled and whirled, but remained full of contemplations ... ready.

And, she had a hunger in a way she had never hungered before! She sat up and saw Spencer as he watched her from his overstuffed armchair by the bed.

He sat stretched out in the chair with his head propped up on his arm. His stare was to ascertain her mental awareness. What would her demeanor be now? Would she hate him? Spencer sat taller in the chair.

            He wore the blue-jeans and sweater he had worn at the concert. Of course, all was clean. He wanted her to see a comfortable memory. She blinked her eyes several times, focused on him. He waited for her spoken words.

            “Where am I?” she asked quietly confused. With her observation, she realized she wore a dark maroon colored, satin pajama and touched the softness. It was not her pajama, but fit her perfectly!

            “My apartment.” They were in his apartment, but not in America. “How do you feel?”

            “Wasn’t I in a hospital?” Her voice wavered.

            “Shhhhh ...” Spencer calmed. He went to sit beside her on the bed to hold her and comfort her confusion. They had only been out of America for two days. Her memory was good, but her mind now was rather fuzzy. From the beginning, she was in and out of awareness. Mostly a dream state ... a bewildered dream state!

            “What’s happened?” Cynthia asked loudly. She began to shiver and quake. She wanted to jump up and run out of the room, but he held her to the bed!

            Spencer had turned only one other person to the blood life, the dark life, but he knew what the symptoms were and what to do. He would like this turning because the other had been a man in 1914, for which he had no desire, but who needed his help. For Cynthia, on the other hand, he had much desire! However, he prayed she wouldn’t hate him for mending her broken body in his way, the only way he could.

            When Angus turned him, all he remembered was the pain of the hunger. It was like that for the man, as it would be for her. If he could prevent her pain, he would!

            Spencer had let her feed on his blood as often as she wanted. Didn’t deny her.

Now, with her awareness, Cynthia began to shake with spasms, like an epileptic episode. She had never been like this ever! There was a massive hunger pang that made her double over! She cried out in the pain and grabbed her abdomen! There was an excruciating grab, an ache in her chest! She wanted to die! However, she knew what she needed – wanted! She needed Spencer’s blood!!

            “Please give ... please,” she begged with her stutter. She tried to clench his arm with her fingernails to draw blood!

            Spencer obliged with no resistance. He pushed up his sleeve and easily opened a vein in his arm and held her passionately as she fed, to drink the nourishment she needed. He allowed her to drink all she wanted because he had been out before to replenish his body. They fell asleep in each other’s arms.

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            He had been sleeping and dreamed of past times, but Cynthia’s sweet, enthralling face

would materialize to him. After a moment, he realized that she was truly awake and watched him in a placid way. She merely sat up in the bed. He was in that chair again, and was startled a bit ... he sat straighter. She was more changed, but he hadn’t felt her being awake. It was early evening; a dim lamp illumed.

            “Hello,” Spencer said softly, “How do you feel?”

            “Am I dead? If not ... will I feel sick again?” she asked more than concerned. Her face felt drawn, her neck felt tight ... all of her muscles felt tight!

            He wasn’t sure how he should reply. He stayed in the chair, rested his elbows on his thighs, and then looked at her with all sincerity and said, “No ... and yes.”

            Cynthia only searched his eyes. “What the hell does that mean?” She wasn’t angry, but she wasn’t happy, either. And, she determined by the dim room light that his eyes had no color. She couldn’t call them blue, or hazel, or light brown, kind of dark gray. It really wasn’t important.

Then, he said, “It means you are being turned to a new way of life.”           

“Please don’t play word games with me, Spencer.”

With her awareness, she looked about the large room. A bedroom, she deduced. There were high ceilings, a few upholstered armchairs (like where Spencer sat), some small tables, a Queen Anne’s dressing table with a large mirror and a matching, tufted bench. The bed was rather large and well above the floor with cream satin sheets and more than one comforter and many pillows. The narrow closed windows were floor to ceiling, with polished cotton, off-white drapes and pale pastel, flowered wallpaper. It reminded her of the elaborate bedroom in the Black & White movie “Rebecca;” Rebecca’s suite. This bedroom’s door was wide open ... so Cynthia moved her feet over the bed’s side. Tentatively, she put her bare feet onto the wood floor. The wood felt warm to her feet.

            Spencer merely stood, didn’t take her hand or her arm. He allowed her to test her legs. “Go easy, my love,” Spencer merely suggested.

            Cynthia only glared at him. Again, not angry, but rather disconcerted. His suggestion only puzzled her more. She looked away and took her first step.

Spencer smiled when she had turned away. Her first baby step ... a wobbly step, but her first vampire step. He was so proud.

After a few more “baby steps,” Cynthia walked prudently down the hallway to another large room that was in the same décor, but more heavily. Obviously, the living room. There were shelves of books, old photos on the few decorative tables, paintings on the walls with duskier colors and a wood fireplace that had been lighted recently.

He was by her side, kind of behind her, in case she stumbled.

Cynthia turned to look at Spencer with her small smile. He was so happy to see her smile, but her eyes were still wan, pale ... no lustre! She needed a longer feed.

“You approve?” Spencer asked. He felt more comforted ... somewhat.  

“Yes. Lovely,” she responded. With a short walk around, she scoped the room and merely nodded, and then said, “Now ... what’s going on? I really doubt this is your apartment in North Carolina. New York or New Orleans, perhaps?” She turned to watch his gray eyes.

In a fluttered heartbeat, though, she became affected again. She slightly swooned.

Spencer caught her to lay her on the antique sofa. She hadn’t passed out, but she was weak. Since he healed so well, he pushed up his sleeve and reopened the vein to give her what she required.

“Is your blood a type of holistic medicine?” She didn’t wait for him to respond. Again, she placed her mouth over his wound and drank the sweet, tantalizing blood, like a toddler who got her needed nourishment from her mother. Why wasn’t she repulsed at drinking his blood?

Spencer decided to limit this feed, however. They could go out tonight for her first ... kill. He knew he should indoctrinate her as soon as possible.

She drank and watched Spencer’s ruggedly, attractive face. He smiled lovingly to her and saw that her eyes became more alive as she drank. That was a relief for him to see. He nuzzled her soft hair and kissed the top of her head. However, with his vampire sense, he was close to his “need,” but he could resist. He would never bite her out of hunger or anger!!

Then, Cynthia realized something was very different! She jerked away from his arm and demanded, “What is this?!” She pushed him away and began to touch her upper canine teeth with her tongue and fingers, which had become elongated, thicker!

“This is NOT normal, Spencer! What is this?!!” She began to cry blood tinged tears. There was a thin trail down her cheeks. Another item he’d need to explain to her.

He dabbed his arm a bit with a doily to stop his bleed. He pulled down his sleeve to talk with her. He related only what had happened from when they met, to the crash on the highway near Ashville and how he sort of spirited her away to heal (with her new existence).

“No, this is not North Carolina. It’s Abbeville, France. Yes ... France. This is my apartment.” He didn’t want to give her all the details until she was more turned. “I come here often for peace, to heal myself.”

“So, you’re French, as well as British?” she asked. “Spencer, where in France?” She sounded frustrated and continued to scrutinize her teeth.

“So to speak, I am a citizen of the world, Cynthia. More Europe and America.” He gave her a pleasant face and watched hers. There was doubt in her beautiful, violet eyes.

“Abbeville is a moderate sized town in western France, on the Somme River,” Spencer spoke his answer calmly, and continued, “There are canals near La Manche; the English Channel. This apartment is on the island in the river.”

“The English Channel?” Cynthia wanted to drink more, but she really needed his explanations more than anything! “Spencer ... I need more honesty now! Who are you?! Why am I so glad to drink your blood, your very sweet blood?” She began to shiver again with the pain, but she wanted more disclosure than the blood. “Why does your blood make me feel so good? Why are these teeth becoming so long? Tell me, Spencer!” She scooted away from him on the sofa.

She had a small dribble of blood on her chin, as well as the tears on her cheeks, but she wouldn’t allow him to touch her. He knew she wouldn’t be placated until he told her; told her the gory details.

            He sat helpless as she dealt with her pain. It was important for her to drink now because she had begun to shake, somewhat, which could harm her if it elevated. However, he knew she would be defiant, stubborn.

            There was a small tray on the coffee table with a carafe of a dark liquid surrounded by tall, thin, clear glasses. Spencer turned up a glass so he could pour some of the liquid into it. As he handed the glass to her, he said, “Not as warm as from my body, but this will have to do until you are happy with my explanations ... the truths! It’s my blood.”

            Cynthia was somewhat hesitant, but she took the glass with both hands and drank like she would die, if she didn’t. Spencer smiled a little, relieved. Her shakes softened presently.

            “I am a vampire ... since sixteen-fifty-five. Yes ... I am that old.” Spencer paused, then continued, “I was twenty-five when I was turned, Cynthia. I will always look this young.”

            She had disbelief in her eyes and said, “A vampire? Like in the movie Twilight? Or Bram Stoker’s Dracula? Are we Bella and Edward or Bèla Lugosi?” She began to shake, but not from the hunger. Spencer reached to hold her ... she refused. She needed his honesty and only that right now.

            “Cynthia ... that’s a movie and those are characters. We could call ourselves by those names, but I would prefer our names as they are now. And ... I love you ... as much as you will allow me.”

            He began his tale of his turning, of becoming a vampire. And, that was not his intent during a civil conflict with the English soldiers in 1655. So much in his vampire life, his travels, his romances, took him to so many destinations! The old vampire, Angus, who had turned him, had been absent from his vampire life until the outdoor concert in North Carolina.

            “This is one of my apartments since 1749! I was a sympathizer with the Huguenots. Even during The Blitzkrieg, WW2, against London, I have always been a fighter. But not out of design, by necessity,” Spencer explained, and then went on, “Unbeknownst to me, Angus had looked out for me quietly ever since he made me!

“Do you remember that I got a cell call when we were at the Amphitheater? It was Angus. I was thoroughly shocked! He was the reason I couldn’t stay longer with you and your family. I had to meet with him! So sad and perturbed, I was!

“He warned me of a young, rogue vampire from the Carolinas, who wanted you and to kill me! He knew of you, Cynthia. The rogued vampire knew when we met, when you sat on my blanket at the amphitheater! He was watching us as you and I met.

“He was outraged that you wanted me! He had wanted to make you his! Not like what I wanted! What I wanted when I saw you at the amphitheater was ... love. A love I had never felt for any woman!

“When you were injured in that traffic accident, Angus knew that rogue had set the works for that mayhem. His intent was to use the accident so he could turn you.”

“Turn me? Into what?” Cynthia asked with a definite frown.

Spencer gently held up his hand to get her to be patient. He continued, “Thankfully, he was easy to kill and you were easy to locate. Angus aided me with your abduction from the hospital.” Spencer casually took the carafe to pour her another glass. She allowed and drank more slowly this time. He poured a glass for himself.

She didn’t feel Spencer was being pushy, but she waited a moment before asking calmly, “Does my brother know where I am?”

“No, my love. I wanted to shelter you until we could see him.”

            “Is Angus still with you ... us?”

            He shook his head, “Not as far as I can sense.” He sipped from his glass and wanted her to ask her questions.

            “Vampires. Are there really vampires?” She was rather skeptical. Then, she grinned slightly and also asked, “Is there a Jacob out there, as well?” Cynthia giggled silently.

            After he took another drink, he nodded and said, “Not millions and millions, but enough to be worrisome.” He was specific. “I have had a few battles, but my vampire life has been rather docile, uneventful.” He just looked her in the eye and said, “If you’re referring to werewolves, those beings are more secretive.”

            Cynthia finished the second glass and just looked to a place past him, much in thought. “Why did that ... rogue? A rogue vampire?” She felt he was being honest, even though a bit fantastic!

            All Spencer did was nod his answer.

            “Why did that vampire want me?” she asked very curious. She gave herself another glass of nectar, and sat more relaxed on the sofa with her legs tucked under her.

            “Because of your blood ... your rare blood. The rare chemical make-up of your genetics!”

            Cynthia screwed up her adorable face, eyebrows and mouth, to show her doubt. “What could be so special about my blood? I’m O-positive. Many people are that type.”

            “Cynthia ... in the hospital ... I drank your blood to heal you. I tasted your extraordinary blood. Very rare! The “type” mattered not. I took your blood and gave you my blood to make the healing formula. I had to turn you, change you. Your blood will always be an attraction for other vampires. However, after you turn, you’ll be able to fight with me by your side. This was so necessary! This will upset you, anger you, I dare say. My love ... you are now a vampire.” Spencer calmly awaited a tirade.

            “What?!” was all she uttered. She laughed loudly in denial, “No!” The glass fell from her hand to the floor and she violently shook her head and wrapped her arms around her knees in a fetal position. She cried with her face buried behind her knees!

            Spencer loved her so much and began to worry that he would lose her. He moved to her and took hold of her arms!

            “Don’t touch me you liar!!” she yelled. He held her arms tighter!

            With his conviction, he yelled, “Listen! Would you rather be unable to walk or sit up! Or be bedridden?! Or dead? Don’t you remember? You were wrapped in casts! You would probably never walk again! Probably be demented for what was left of your life!” He made her look at him, as he pleaded, “I could keep you from that despair, that diagnosis. That’s why I did what I did. The hunger will subside without a doubt ... the pain will go away!” Spencer calmed his conviction and said, “Because you’re a vampire.”

            As he spoke, she looked at him, in his eyes and saw a color. A dark shade of green with golden flecks. She searched these new eyes.

            Because of his helplessness, he began to feel his vampire sense. His fangs began to grow. This was not what he wanted. He did not want her to fear him, but he did fear for her mental decline. He couldn’t force her to love him, or believe him, but he didn’t want her to hate him or go out only half turned -- easy prey for others. If she wouldn’t allow him to complete the turn, she might as well be dead. It would kill him to know that a sucker would eliminate her, or worse, make her their concubine because of her blood! They’d feed on her until used up!

            “Cynthia ... please ...,” he could barely talk. He tried to hide his fangs and had tears (his tears were redder than hers) and shook a bit himself. His voice was so soft, as he spoke, “Nothing I have done has been detrimental to you or your wellbeing. If you would allow, you will never want for anything ever again. I will be with you until the end of time! We can conquer whatever challenge approaches!” He put his head down.

            Cynthia was more than moved by Spencer’s intense honesty. Perhaps, this was meant to happen. Her as a vampire. Live forever. Always have this handsome man with her. She tingled with this thought.

            Spencer sat beside her and had released her arms. He sat just so sad.

For whatever reason, Eric Satie’s Gymnopedies, a favorite symphony piece, wafted through Cynthia’s head. This music would now make her think of Spencer!

            “I can feel you, Spencer,” she said and touched her heart. With no fanfare, she tenderly took his face in her hands. She wiped some of his blood tears on his cheeks away with her thumbs. Then, she kissed his cool cheek. “I believe I love you as much as you love me.”

            With her words, Spencer was planted in euphoria!! He gingerly took her into his arms to hold her closely! He didn’t loose her! She held him, as well.

            She looked at him sweetly and asked, “What’s next?” She gave permission for her turn.

            Presently, they kissed a meaningful, passionate kiss! Then, he took off his sweater, placed one of the large soft pillows for him to lean against on the sofa’s arm and took her hand, which she didn’t refuse, to guide her to lie against his chest. He opened a vein in his chest where she could finalize the feed for her change. With her baby fangs, she actually bit him. This was more sensual for him than in the past. More sexual for them both!

Now, that he had explained some of the happening, she didn’t balk at when he took her wrist to bite to truly complete the cycle for her new life.

            They drank and fell more in love.

=To be continued next month=