The Trap of an Embrace

“It's...beyond imagining. I was so small...so afraid.” He held me in his arms, so strong and firm. His eyes were dark like the ocean is dark, the crystal green of a sunset I hadn't seen in so very long. The memories rose up from depths into my lips. I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. “I was...thirteen. God, it's been three years. How long have I...?” Fingers brushed my lips; I was getting distracted. I had to keep telling the story. I had never felt so warm.

“It was a little village, near Vienna. Just the village boys, the village girls, the parents, and the elderly. There was a lake, so green instead of blue. People always told us lakes were blue, like oceans...we knew better. The beds of stones were slick and smooth all the way down. It was our little taste of Eden, overgrown with flowers, far away from chores and troubles.” He slid in closer. “No, no...this is...this is vital. You have to imagine that little lake...more of a pond, but so massive to little bodies like our own.” He subsided, but his hold was comforting, yet so powerful. I couldn't dream to leave it.

“I was alone that day. The little boys and little girls knew somehow. The parents had forgotten, but even they could see the signs. I had my little clothes, my little shoes. I remember the greenness of that lake...and I remember walking. I gathered stones, five in each hand, then five in each pocket. I needed them; I just knew. I stepped forward, off of the bank. I slipped and slid and dove and the stones were so heavy. Below and below and below...my heart was racing, screaming. I couldn't breathe. My eyes flew open from the shock, as if I'd awoken from a trance.

Beneath the waves, my grandfather watched me...he was sitting on the stones like he used to sit on the old tree trunk, pipe raising bubbles. His wife was with him; I'd never seen her, but he'd told stories of the golden shine of her hair...she was so young, a few years my elder, arms around so old a man. What an odd thing to see below our little lake...the stones gave me no purchase and I slid lower and lower. Was it always so deep? I saw other old men and young women, other young men and old wives...and children, too, so many children. Things were so different then...the stones beneath by feet cut and scratched. They were so smooth, and they shone like little beacons. Diamonds. Rubies. Ingots of gold and silver and platinum. All the wealth we'd ever had, and it was in those depths, in my private bottom. The stones were growing heavier...” I nearly fainted in his arms. It was so fresh, like diving down again. I couldn't breathe. He trailed his fingers along my jaw and I returned. He kept me in our little world, even as his eyes drew me deeper like the lake of my memories.

“The bottom of the lake bore a great black hole, and sure enough, though I fought and swam and scraped, I fell down and down into the darkness, but after a breathless breath, it was no darkness at all. It shone like stars. Smooth water stones, all scratched and etched by little fingers. Words and names in my native tongue...and in older ones. Our little village was so old...that tunnel was so deep. I was losing clarity, losing my heart and soul to that endless gravity, and so I latched on. A smooth stone protruded; I caught it with my right, then with my left hand. No, this is important. I see that now.

“I began to scratch my name, frantic, eager. Gazing down into the murk, I remembered my most frantic thought. 'I must not be forgotten. I have a name. I have a name!' And so I wrote, scratching with the nails of my hand. Of my left hand....clever little lake, but it took on my name. And with it, the stones tore through my pockets and I was rising, shooting up like an arrow's shot. Or more like a bullet, I suppose. The rocks were tumbling, crashing, closing in at my feet like a snapping turtle, trying to catch me, but I rose and rose and all the underwater people cheered. I shot up like a rocket, through the lake and past the surface, bursting through to the taste of air...my first breath. My first...real...breath.” I kissed him softly, unbidden. His eyes widened in surprise. I emptied my lungs into his, watched him exhale.

“That...is what you're after. That is what you seek, you and your cousins.” He whispered something in English, but I laid a finger on his lips. His shock soon turned to fear; he was rigid, unmoving. His embrace had become a statue's grip. He could not let me go...and I would not let him free.

“All the little girls, and all the little boys, they're gone now. It took me many years to find you, meine schokolade.” I smiled. “You whispered to them, like you whispered to me. You chained them in their hearts with those deep lake eyes...you found the water.” I touched his cheek, watched it start to flake and crumble beneath my grasp. His eyes were terrified and animal, churning my little lake away, how tragic.

“But without the breath, it's meaningless. The lake was a terrible place, and I marked it with this same left hand.” His skull was bare and cracking before that caress like spiderwebs. “But my name will NEVER be forgotten. Thanks to you and yours, blutsaugur, I'll make sure of it. But do not tremble so...”

My lips curled into a smile as I kissed his rictus grin. It blew away like dust. “My name is one with yours now. We are both eternal Tremere.”