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At first there was nothing.
A darkness so deep as if light had never existed. A silence that would have swallowed any sound before it would have even been made. There was no air or heat or time. No memories or thoughts or consciousness. There was only nothing.
Then suddenly there was fire. A burning in his throat that spread through his body. He tried to get away and as he clawed around he felt the tear of soft linen and his nails dug into heavy, dense wood. He kicked and found that his feet barely moved a few inches. He only realised that he was lying down when he tried to bow his head forward. The sharp pain as his head collided with the lid above him drew his attention away from the fire long enough for him to take stock of his surroundings.
The darkness, the linen, the wood, the lying. The burning sensation no doubt caused by lack of oxygen. He was buried alive.
That brought fresh panic over him. Why was he buried? Why was he alive? How long was he down there? And most importantly, who was he?
But as suddenly as it started, his panicking stopped. He was always good in impossible situations. Most confident when the situation made the least sense. He didn’t know how he remembered that, but he was grateful that he did.
He also knew what he had to do. He tore at his clothes that fell apart as if made from paper, but enough of it remained intact that he could pull it over his face. he wiggled around as much as he could and started kicking at the lid close to the centre. The wood broke quickly, and dirt started pouring in, but he was ready. He started pulling at the lid along the break, so he could fit through. The dirt was dry and dense, but he kept shovelling with his hands, swimming to the surface.
With each inch he made towards the top, he felt the pressure decrease, the ground moving more swiftly. And then he heard a sound.
“James?” someone asked above. The voice sounded familiar yet strange, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. “James!” the voice shouted, and he could feel the ground moving above him as another pair of hands started digging through the ground from above. Suddenly he felt a hand touch his fingers, then grabbing him, pulling him up and then he was out in the open. He gulped down the fresh air in frantic gasps until a pair of strong arms drew him into a hard chest, his shirt was removed from his face.
“It’s okay. You are okay. I’ve got you. Just breath. Breath for me, mate” the voice repeated while the chest kept moving up and down at a comforting pace. Slowly his breathing started to match the movements of the chest. He felt shooting caresses on his back, in his hair, a soft whisper of encouragements on his face.
But before he could fully calm down, the fire was back. He tore himself out of the arms and snapped his eyes open, staring at the apparition before him, as if it were the cause of the burning.
The apparition – a man, his mind supplied – was tall, sharp features and pale skin contrasted by dark, soft-looking hair. The man was covered in dirt, clothes rumpled but showed no other signs of exertion. The man’s eyes were dark with freckles of slightly lighter brown in them. The eyes bore into his, grounding him. Despite his inability to look away and the darkness around them, he could see every detail clearly, as if he was looking through a pair of surgical magnifying glasses. The details to sharp for him to be able to recognize the whole picture despite the nagging sense of familiarity.
“James” the man spoke again, this time in a shocked voice. His mind finally recognized ‘James’ as his own name. “James, you aren’t breathing.”
***
Marcus found himself in the cemetery once more.
It was by no means a rare occurrence in the past few weeks, especially on days like this. He blamed Matthew and Miriam for not informing him at first, but his own guilt grew as news of more and more failed sirings reached them. He could have known. If he just paid attention to the world around them, if he talked to his family, if he asked about their research as he did before he got caught up in his work and his friends and most importantly in James, this wouldn’t have happened.
He was grateful he could get by with little to no sleep because ever time he closed his eyes he saw the confused and terrified look on his friend’s face as he was shocked awake that last time by the vampire blood seeping into his system before he died again.
James’ death would have been too quick to be painful. The car hit him with such a force that he was dead before he hit the ground. The doctor in Marcus knew that even before he started checking James for any sign of life. Yet he looked, and touched and listened, hoping against hope that maybe he just missed something despite his sharp senses. He refused to believe that the man who, just mere seconds ago, was laughing and joking and living was now dead. He refused to let that be true.
Marcus barely had the presence of mind to look around for any humans before he sunk his teeth into his friend’s neck, robbing him of his easy death. And that was it. He knew that he could try shifting blame all he wanted, ultimately what happened was all his fault. Because deep down he knew, that even if he was aware of the potential for failure, he still might have tried. He was selfish, and he wasn’t thinking. He just knew that he would have given anything not to lose his friend before he had a chance to…
He cut himself off. There was no use in thinking about a future that could never be. Despite his efforts, despite his willingness James was dead and no amount of whishing was going to change that.
As if on cue, the ground on the grave shifted. Marcus sighed and shook his head to clear his mind from images that couldn’t be. But the ground kept moving and faint sounds of someone grunting underground reached him.
“James?” Marcus asked, staring at the grave in disbelief. “James!” he shouted as the moving of the mound increased. He fell to the ground and started shifting the dirt desperately. When he felt the softness of skin, he grabbed, pulling with one hand while his other kept shifting the soil and the next minute he was holding his friend in his arms, taking deep, even and unnecessary breaths to calm his friend as well as himself, murmuring words of comfort.
Before he had any time to wonder how it could be, James darted from his arms and stood a few feet away, staring at him without moving, without breathing.
“James” Marcus started, hoping that the name of his friend would help ground him. “James, you aren’t breathing.”
James’ eyes grew impossibly louder and he took a deep breath as if to check that it was indeed unnecessary. As the shock of the events cleared from Marcus’ mind he took in the previously ignored details. James’ skin was paler than before under the dirt, the perpetual blush gone from his cheeks. His pupils were shrunk as to shut out the overwhelming amount of details he could now see even in the night. The veins that used to stand out on his temple and his neck were barely visible and still as there was no heartbeat to push the blood through them. The wounds from the accident all gone, only one faint scar remaining on his neck where Marcus bit him.
It couldn’t be true, yet everything else was impossible. James was a vampire. But this wasn’t how vampires were made.
James gasped, making Marcus wonder if he spoke his thoughts aloud, but before he could continue unravelling this mystery, James took off running.
James’ senses were somewhat heightened from his new hunger, so it took a moment before Marcus realized that he ran towards some kids who were just entering the cemetery no doubt for a night of pranks, unsuspecting of any actual danger that might be there.
Luckily Marcus had centuries of practice on his mind and he caught up to his friend before the kids could even see them, wrestling him to the ground. As soon as James realized that he couldn’t break free, he calmed down enough for his consciousness to realize what he was about to do.
“What is happening to me?” he asked from the increasingly familiar man on top of him. His voice was weak and hoarse.
“I don’t know. But I promise I’ll help you figure it out. Do you trust me?”
James only nodded.
“If I let you go, will you try and stay with me?”
Following another nod, Marcus stood up and helped James up, but their hands remained clasped even when they were both standing, neither of them trusting James’ new instincts.
“I know some people who can help. Probably. Can I take you to them? They won’t hurt you but if anyone will have answers, it’s them.”
“Will you stay with me?”
“Always.”