“OF THE GOOD IN YOU, I CAN SPEAK, BUT NOT OF THE EVIL. FOR WHAT IS EVIL, BUT GOOD, TORTURED BY ITS OWN HUNGER AND THIRST? WHEN GOOD IS HUNGRY, IT SEEKS FOOD EVEN IN DARK CAVES AND WHEN IT THIRSTS, IT DRINKS EVEN OF DARK WATERS."
_________ Kahlil Gibran "The Prophet"
AMARANTH DEFINITION: LOVE-LIES-BLEEDING A fabled flower that never fades and is regarded as a symbol of immortality. From Greek Amarantos "Everlasting"
________ Allwords.com
Transylvania, 1849
PROLOGUE
Racine Ramier slid down the solid stone wall of her cramped ell to the damp and musty floor beneath. She drew her knees to her chest and tucked her head down, huddling in the corner for warmth. The chill penetrated her very soul and made her weak, yet she did not fear. Death came not on the winds of an icy breeze, but waited at the end of a rope. The suffering of this mortal coil was but a prelude. She would hang for a witch on
the morrow. Many had come this way before her and many would follow. There were always those that feared what they did not understand. She would not give them The confession they sought to ease their guilt. Nay!
There were worse things than dying. She considered one such creature now. She was well aware of who named her witch. The traitor had been her kin. She anticipated a visit from him soon, as the time neared for her sentence to be carried out. He had no intention of leaving her for the hangman’s noose. He simply desired to have her weak and at his mercy. She had something he wanted quite desperately. He'd be a fool to let it go so easily and Declan was no fool. However, he was cruel.
She was in no doubt that he had enjoyed the petty torments she had suffered the last fortnight, throughout the witch trials. She had sensed the power of his presence at her darkest moments, though he was not physically present in his human form and it gave her the strength to resist. She vowed that he would never see her broken. The body was weak, but her spirit was strong. She'd fight him to the bitter end.
"Not faring well in captivity, sister dear?" A deep voice of Slavic dialect pierced the silence with an inappropriately amused tone. Declan. It was as if her thoughts had manifested themselves into reality. Her jailors would say she had conjured him by spell. Even were she capable of such a feat, she would never seek the countenance of one such as he. His evil seeped malignantly into every corner of her cramped quarters, until nothing good and pure remained. His very presence tainted those around him. She felt unclean, as was no doubt his intent.
Racine slowly lifted her head to meet obsidian eyes
identical to her own. Declan was the male version of herself. He bore the same unruly, curly black locks, though not the length. Ramier women did not cut their hair. To do so was to risk losing a part of yourself to the enemy. A lock of hair could make for powerful magic. Due to their legacy, there were always those that sought to do them harm. Like drew like. Her
power was a beacon in the darkness, evil flocked to it like moths to a flame.
Declan was the dark drawn to her light. His presence here and now was a testament to his unholy abilities. She had yet to realize the true extent of his dark gift. He had never truly been of the light, but she had never imagined he would welcome death’s shadowy embrace.
"Why are you here, Declan?"
"You are my flesh and blood. How could I not come?"
"I am not of your blood." Racine denied coldly.
"You could be if you wished it so. I offer you eternal life, Racine."
"As one of the undead?"
"Would that not be preferable to hanging for a witch? More merciful than death?"
"There is no true death. I will go on, while your tainted blood holds you prisoner to the same endless existence. You would give me eternal life? I say nay. You care naught for my life. It is my power you would possess, but I shall take it to the grave with me."
"You are weak and defenseless, sister. I could turn you without consent."
Racine heard his voice shake with anger, as he took a threatening step forward, but refused to shrink away in fear. He fed on the terror of others and she would not be just another helpless victim. She smiled instead. It was a sad smile. She had always known this day would come. Declan did not hide his envy of the power she possessed. It was a gift that was only passed down the female side of the Ramier line. The women of her tribe
were much revered for their unique gifts, by all but him.
She was witness to his bitterness over this supposed slight as it festered inside him like an open wound, fed only by his hatred of her; his so called flesh and blood. Racine had the gift of knowing what lay in other’s hearts and minds. The blood bond they shared through birth made the connection only stronger
yet. His loathing for her was searing in its intensity. By the time Declan left their clan to make his own way in the world, it was a relief to see him go; until the day he returned covered in blood and raving madly about a curse. The others thought Declan insane, but Racine knew otherwise.
She could see into his black soul. After all, she was his other half. They had shared a womb. She knew him better than he knew himself. His blood was poison and she'd soon die than drink it.
Their mother was the only other who had known the truth about her son. Racine recalled the final secret meeting between mother and daughter, before she had been left to carry the burden of the Ramier women alone. They sat cross legged in the hay, hidden away inside the barn. It was not the first time they had met in such a way, but it would be the last. Mother was quite ill. Each second that passed death loomed ever closer. There was not much time to prepare.
At thirteen years, Racine was no longer a child. Soon she would be of a marriageable age, but this was not to be her destiny. A man owned his wife and a Ramier woman could not be property. She had her own path to follow, which meant laying with a man for his seed, but not sharing his home. In truth,her chosen consort was never to know that she had conceived a child. This Ramier daughter would carry on in her place,when Racine was no longer able to do her duty. A shiver of fear
crawled along her spine, as Racine realized for her this time was now. She saw it in her mother’s sorrowful eyes, the gypsy woman had delayed this moment for as long as she was able, it was time to lay her burden down and for Racine to lift it up. Her next words only confirmed what Racine already knew in her heart.
"My time is past. Your time has only begun, my child. Tis our way. Learn it well. You are all that remains of our kind."
She solemnly placed a leather bound book in Racine's small outstretched hands. It was extremely heavy, but Racine did not drop it. This was her legacy. She knew it was her duty to hold it close to her heart always.
"Tis the Ramier Grimoire. Guard its secrets well. It is our Bible, our truth and our salvation. Locked within these pages is the key to all life…and death. There is danger for the keeper,as it has always been. Evildoers will seek your power to do harm. Lay down your life, if you must, but protect the Grimoire always. Trust no one with its secrets, not even your own flesh
and blood. Your brother's path is not ours."
At that moment, Racine felt a burning between her shoulder blades. She need not turn to know that Declan had discovered their hiding place. He was watching from the small, square cut window like opening that had been created by the men for the purpose of light and air, when the barn doors were closed to make the horses more comfortable. The stallions were getting skittish, rearing and stomping in their stalls. The mares made
sounds akin to whimpers. It was a reaction to his evil. Animals could sense evil more acutely than humans.
Racine couldn’t resist a peek from beneath her lashes. The young boy’s lips were twisted bitterly, as his mother continued to speak of him, the only one unaware of his presence. Racine knew with certainty that if her mother could not sense this disturbance in the air, then her time was indeed over.
"I wish I would have had the courage to smother him in his sleep as a babe. Alas, I could not murder my own child, even knowing that like a plague that sweeps the world, he would be the destruction of many. I felt his evil in the womb, as I felt your goodness. I knew even as I pushed you both from my body that he would be the night and you would be the day. I reluctantly pass the burden of this knowledge unto you. Never lower your guard in his presence or he will be the death of you
and all that we hold sacred."
It was difficult to focus on her mother’s words, while Declan’s thoughts pounded their way forcefully into her mind against her will, as if he wanted her to know what he was thinking. Perhaps he did.
It could not be his fate to till the ground all his life, while his sister was held up above all others in the tribe. He should be the keeper, not that stupid girl. Mama had always loved her best, but he would show her. He would show them all how wrong they had been to deny him the power that was rightfully his. He would find power of his own. A stronger power. Then they would fear him. They would all be sorry then, but it would be too late and he would make them pay. All of
them. His darling sister… she would suffer the most.
Racine knew in that moment that her mother’s words were prophetic. Declan would be the death of her. It could not end any other way. She also knew that she would be the last Ramier. There would be no child. There would be no need for a keeper because there would be no Grimoire. When the enemy had breached the gates, there was only one thing you could do to keep them from getting what they came for. Destroy it.
Her mother would not approve. She had taken a vow to protect the Grimoire. It had within its depths the capacity to do great good for the world. However, Racine knew what her mother did not. It would never have that chance. Better the world stay as it was, than to tip the scales to evil’s side.
Their mother passed within days of this meeting, never knowing what Racine had planned and at peace with the knowledge that her duty had been fulfilled. Once she was gone, Declan left the clan in search of his own destiny. He did not even remain for the one who bore him to receive her last rites. Racine lovingly prepared her mother for passage into the afterworld all alone.
The others were pleased to see him go, but Racine knew it would only bring a brief respite. He would return someday and she would be ready for him. Day and night she studied the Grimoire memorizing every amazing and terrifying word for therein lay a prophecy that must not ever come to pass. When the day came that she could recite the book backward and forward from memory, she threw it on the pyre.
It was her history, her sacred trust and it saddened her to destroy the only memento her mother had entrusted to her, but she did what she must. She was he last Ramier. There was no going back on her decision now, for there was no other left to guard it. Declan craved possession of the book. He expected it to be waiting on his return, when perhaps he would be strong
enough to take it. Now its secrets would die with her.
The flames of her memory flickered briefly in her eyes then were lost like dying embers, as the pain brought her back to the present. Declan had delivered the killing blow. She was aware of her life force seeping away. It would not be long now. There was blood everywhere. So much blood. Racine pressed a hand to her ravaged throat, but could not stem the flow. Crimson fluid poured over her fingers in a gush. She would be reunited with her mother soon. What a relief to be free of her burden at last. Finally, she could be at peace.
"Take from me and live." Declan drew a nail across his wrist and a line of blood trickled forth.
"Take sustenance or die." He pressed the vein to her lips,but she willed herself not to drink.
"I'd sooner die." She protested weakly, using the last of her strength to push his arm away.
"Without my aid, you undoubtedly will."
He thought he had beaten her at last, but as usual he was wrong. She would emerge the victor in this battle of wills. He just didn't know it yet. There he stood, smugly certain that she would submit; supremely confident that she would beg for eternal life as the end grew near.
"Time grows short, Racine. Your magic will not save you. Only I can. My blood is life. I command you to drink."
"I'll see you in Hell first!" She gurgled.
"Then you'll have along wait. As you have said yourself, I am immortal. Death will not have me, but it comes for you. Do you feel its cold embrace?"
Racine's eyes slid closed.
"It is--your embrace--that is cold.” Racine struggled to speak, blood pouring from her mouth along with her words. “Death --covers—me--like a--warm blanket. There is nothing--to fear. I am going on--to a place--where you can no longer--reach me. You have--lost, my brother. I am free--of you--at last." She smiled joyously, as absolute peace overtook her.
"You'll never be free of me!" Declan swore, but to his fury she was already gone.
“Hear this, Racine.” Declan raged at the heavens, as if determined to have the last word. “I may have lost you in this life, but there shall be others and I will find you. It matters not in what body you hide or by what name, you will always be Ramier and thus my blood. If I exist for nothing else, it is this. I will have what you stole from me!”
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