Witches Immortal: A Novel (DeSai Trilogy) Witchcraft of a Dark Witch Page 2

  The Book contained Rasia’s lineage, and she was the last in a long line so the Book belonged to her now. At least it would until she could produce a daughter to carry on, but the hate in her soul kept her from pursuing that goal just yet. For now, she was simply content to gaze upon the history recorded within and revel in the truth of her existence, and she did this often.

  Her great-grandmother, Alyona Alkaev. This is where she liked to begin. She had the Book and its contents memorized, but she began to relate most deeply to her own history with this woman in particular. Something about the way she ran her coven, the way she wielded her power, made Rasia almost mentally and emotionally orgasmic. Better still, great-grandmother Alyona’s recording of her own life’s events was spectacularly clear; Rasia would read the words and look at the drawings Alyona had put down and she was very nearly transported to the woman’s time.

  Grandmother Anfisa Pajari’s writings had the same effect on her. She had been the daughter of Aloyona, and she had been the one to record the theory which stated that if a witch were to discover a vampire and partake of his blessing they could very possibly overcome the curse of their vile, ugly deaths in the future. Generations would be able to continue for all eternity, and they could practice their dark arts uninhibited. There indeed was a very good chance that they could rule the world someday.

  Rasia had become obsessed with Grandmother Anfisa’s studies from the second she first laid eyes on them. She had turned them over and over in her mind obsessively from that day forward. They had driven her to become a journalist, because it enabled her to travel, and travel would broaden not only her horizons, but her chances of finding the ever-elusive Dracula himself.

  But everyone needs a safety net, and so Rasia had chosen a career she could at least enjoy. That way if she failed at her quest she could find minute satisfaction doing what she loved. At least, next to witchcraft, that is.

  Her own mother, Oksana, had been more than a burden to her, and that from a very young age. First, she tried to tell a tiny Rasia that her father had ‘up and left’ them, not caring for Oksana or their wee daughter enough to even grace them occasionally with his presence. She indeed taught Rasia the elementary aspects of the craft, but out of sheer hatred and disrespect for her maternal figure Rasia had all but pushed her teachings out of her mind and far from her person. What could that wench ever teach her that she couldn’t learn for herself?

  So she had taken the Book from her mother upon her own death, as was commanded by their predecessors, and began to record her own experiences upon its remaining blank pages. The blood was not that of sacrificed virgins, granted, but it was the blood of the many male victims she left strewn across the vast landscape of her life, and this fact did not bother her in the slightest. So she had deviated from The Way; this meant nothing to her. She would continue on her course to prove (or disprove) Anfisa’s beliefs once and for all.

  Rasia turned the next page of the Book. It contained the tale of her grandmother’s, Anfisa’s own daughter, Oksana’s life and learnings. This was Rasia’s mother Oksana and she had been the true groundbreaker of them all.

  While Anfisa had spoken of Dracula and the potential behind taking in his blood, Oksana had taken the theory to an entirely new level. She killed simply for the sake of obtaining the life’s blood that only her victims could provide. In this way, she began the true hunt for the one true ‘Vampire’ that could give this feminine lifeline an eternal existence. Oksana Engres had been determined, and she didn’t care who had to die during the course of her quest.

  For the entire sum of her days Rasia had continued the journey, had continued the hunt. She herself would find the bloody ‘fountain of youth’ that her ancestors had diligently sought, and she eventually had found it in Cyril DeSai. As she cast her eyes upon the pages of the ancient Book and stroked its cover with her fingers, her mind went back to her own search for eternal life and boundless power…

  Chapter 3

  Thirty years ago

  Oksana Engres brushed her hair before the vanity mirror, taking each stroke slowly and deliberately. She did not smile, nor did she take her eyes from the hairbrush or her hand, but it was not the task she was busying herself with that filled her mind. She was thinking about her husband, Arkady.

  Things had begun beautifully for the both of them. There had been an abundance of love and laughter. His family loved her, and though she had no family of her own, she was sure they would have loved him, as well. They had wed just seven months ago and set up house in this very apartment, and until last week their entire relationship had been nothing short of idyllic.

  She had discovered her pregnancy ten days ago, and she had told Arkady the wonderful news over a candlelight dinner. He had been ecstatic; they had both wanted to start a family as soon as possible, and the news of Oksana’s pregnancy delighted the young man.

  But the very next night, while Arkady slept, Oksana had begun to engage in a minor sacrificial rite which would not only ensure the health of the child she carried, but it would also guarantee the birth of a female child. To a true witch this was terribly important; a male child being born first would throw things all askew for her line.

  But Arkady had heard her chanting; it had roused him from his sleep, and he had risen to investigate the sounds. He stood under the cover of darkness in the hallway and observed his beautiful young wife dancing naked in the light of some candles she had burning, and she had been singing and chanting in a strange tongue, uttering words which he did not understand in the slightest.

  But the fact was not only that her behavior filled him with a sense of dread, but he also saw the bloodied body of a young girl lying on the floor in the center of a pentagram. Once he took notice of the dead child he had shot from the darkness and grabbed his wife by the shoulders, spinning her around violently and shaking her.

  “Oksana, what have you done? What are you doing?” He could think of nothing else to say, he was at such a loss for words.

  She had instantly snapped back to reality, and once she grasped that he had caught her in the middle of her craft, she began to laugh uncontrollably. The look on his face became one of sheer horror.

  She controlled herself and looked into his eyes in the flickering light, still smiling. “I am ensuring that our daughter is born full of power, Arkady. Don’t be afraid; my family line affords me the strength and ability to do this.”

  His eyes scanned her face. “You are a witch, Oksana?”

  Once again the young woman laughed. She was unsure what else to do; reality was reality. Her mother Anfisa had warned her that this day would come, and she had also warned her that chances were great that no husband would accept the truth, but even as these thoughts passed through her mind Oksana was sure that her love, her Arkady, would be fine with the facts.

  “I am, my love. I come from a very long line. There is nothing to fear; we will prosper together because of my lineage,” she answered.

  But now it was Oksana’s turn to be surprised. Arkady turned from her and turned on the overhead light, and when he turned back to her his eyes were filled with rage.

  “Who is this child, Oksana?” Suddenly, she knew her marriage was destined to end just as that of the women before her.

  Now she narrowed her eyes, and the smile disappeared from her face. How dare he interrupt her rituals? How dare he even question her motives or behavior while angry? Her naked body began to move slowly away from him, and she circled him slowly.

  He didn’t seem to notice the change in his wife’s demeanor. He rushed to the body lying on the floor, and he knelt down to inspect the dead child more closely. He then looked up at Oksana.

  “I will call the police,” he said simply.

  Suddenly she saw red. To take away her sacrifice would only result in a stillbirth, and this she would not tolerate. Arkady had turned his attention back to the lifeless body on the floor, and she took the opportunity to retrieve the knife she had used on the girl from a sm
all stand near the kitchen door.

  Before her husband even knew what hit him she attacked, first reaching around and slicing his throat in one deft movement. She then proceeded to stab him continually in the back, shoulders, and neck, her own body finally collapsing to the floor in exhaustion. When she gained her senses she looked to where he lay; it would be best, she thought, if his body had landed in the pentagram.

  It had, and this made her smile.

  Oksana stood and turned out the overhead light and resumed her dance. Soon she was chanting once again, and the energies were flowing more powerfully than ever. The Powers were pleased with this double sacrifice, just as her mother Anfisa had told her they would be if it ever came down to this.

  She had done correctly.

  Now, just over one week later, she sat brushing her hair in the apartment, and she felt no sense of loss over Arkady. She knew that in several months she would have a beautiful daughter. In the meantime, she would prepare for the birth. She knew, deep inside, that this child would be the one to see the fulfillment of the dream held by herself and her ancestors.

  This child would find the vampire; this child would bring eternal life and power to their kind.

  ∞

  Oksana stood from the vanity and sat upon the edge of her bed. She was more tired than usual, and she attributed this to her condition. As she made herself comfortable on the bed, her mind turned to the reality of her own loneliness. It was not a feeling she was experiencing because Arkady was gone, no, it was simply Oksana. Her own mother had told her that if she did not learn to live with the loneliness it would cause her terrible problems.

  She finally began to doze off, with dreams of a man with no face drifting through her mind. Oksana was addicted to love and lust. It would fill her dreams for the remainder of her life.

  ∞

  For the next eight months she worked cleaning houses, and she kept her eyes and ears open and in tune to any and every man around her. Not only was she half-heartedly searching for the ever-elusive vampire, she was looking for a mate that would love and accept her for who she was. She looked and looked for the entirety of her pregnancy.

  She was prepared regarding what she would tell her daughter about her father: he deserted them. He did not want to care for his wife and young daughter as a man should, and he simply disappeared one day. This was the story she told everyone else, as well, and it appeased each and every person who came asking after him, including the police when she had reported him missing. After all, men shirked their responsibilities so often in this day and age. No one was truly surprised.

  ∞

  Oksana went into labor alone, and she delivered her beautiful Rasia. She was born on a cold December day with hair the color of fire, just like Arkady had, and even though her eyes were emerald green they blazed with flame as well. The child was perfect; Oksana couldn’t have been more blessed. It was a good thing she had rid her life of Arkady for the sake of their daughter.

  As for Rasia, she was bright and driven from day one. She could remember instances from a very young age, and she was quick to learn the lessons her mother taught her. For the first few years of her life she was very, very close to Oksana; the two did everything together, and it was safe to say they were the best of friends, not just mother and daughter.

  But after Rasia turned five and began her formal schooling things changed at home. Oksana had begun to take boyfriends. Rasia knew there was nothing inherently wrong with this, for most all of the children at her school had both a mother and father figure in their lives. The problem was the men Oksana chose.

  Initially, her relationships were simple flashes in the pan, but because they were so short-lived the woman seemed to search all the harder. They would end for a variety of reasons, ranging from the boyfriends trying to direct Rasia around the house, to them fighting over the weekly meetings her mother would have at night with the other women. None of the men stayed around for long.

  Then, when Rasia was eleven everything changed.

  It happened on a spring day. The month was May, and the flowers were blooming colorfully everywhere she looked. She loved walking home from school during these months, when it was not too cold and not too hot. She had no real friends to speak of, and her walks gave her time to think and plan. She had dreams for her future. She wanted to write for a newspaper.

  She had arrived home this particular day feeling very cheerful and content. Her mother was not home when she got there, which was not unusual. Oksana had to work many hours to pay the bills for herself and her daughter.

  While her mother was not there, her mother’s boyfriend was, however. He was the latest in a long line, and he was a bit younger than those who came before him. His name was Stephan, and he had been seeing Oksana for just under two months.

  There were things about Stephan which proved to give Rasia an unsettled feeling. First, she did not like the way he spoke to her mama. He tended to demand, and he never said please. Sometimes, if Oksana did not cater to his whims quickly enough, he would sneer, and once Rasia had even heard him refer to her obscenely.

  Secondly, he looked at Rasia in a way that made her stomach feel a bit sick. She had begun to develop breasts, and on more than one occasion she caught him staring at them. This moved her to cover them or leave the room, which always seemed to make him chuckle. Rasia could not wait until this relationship fell apart like all the others.

  But today, Stephan was still around, and not only that, he was at Oksana and Rasia’s home without her mother. As soon as she walked into the door and realized the circumstances her stomach sank. Something bad would happen this day, she just knew it.

  She had come into the apartment and gone directly into the kitchen to look for a snack. The place was still; no television or music played, and there were no lights on. Even the curtains were closed.

  Rasia rummaged through the small refrigerator and found a bit of cheese that would go well on some crackers. She was in the middle of slicing it at the counter when she heard a noise behind her, which caused her to turn suddenly.

  There stood Stephan, a wide smile splayed across his lips. “Hello, Rasia,” he leered. “How was your day at school?”

  Rasia had looked down at the knife in her hand before looking back at her mother’s boyfriend and answering. “It was fine today. It is a beautiful day outside. Have you been out?”

  The man continued to smile as he made his way into the kitchen, taking a position behind the girl. “Yes, Rasia. After all, I had to get here, did I not?”

  “Yes, yes. I guess I wasn’t thinking, sir.” She turned her attention back to the cheese, slicing the last bit of it up for her snack.

  Stephan chuckled, and Rasia felt him get closer to her. She could smell alcohol coming off of him in waves. Was he already drinking? After all, it was just now three-thirty in the afternoon. Her skin crawled a bit, and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other nervously before turning around to reach for the box of snack crackers her mama kept in the cupboard.

  But Stephan was so close to her now that she succeeded only in bumping right into him. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. He was so close to her she could see spittle glistening on his bottom lip, which was quivering a bit.

  “You should be more careful, Rasia,” he began. Suddenly his right hand went from her shoulder to her budding left breast. Her stomach lurched violently; the man was making her sick. She did not feel nervous, rather, she felt fury and hatred was over her in waves.

  She drew back her right hand and tightened her grip on the knife she held in it. His mouth was suddenly on hers, and his hand continued to stroke her chest. She plunged the knife into his stomach before he even knew what was happening. His head snapped up and he looked at the child in shock. It was Rasia’s turn to smile now.

  She pulled the knife out and stabbed him yet again. Now the man’s hands went to hers, but he was unable to stop what had already been done; his blood was pouring fr
om the wound in his stomach and spilling to the floor.

  Rasia turned the knife as she sneered at him.

  “Did my breast feel good to you, Stephan? Yes? Well, how does this feel?” Rasia asked him, her voice filled with amusement.

  The man simply fell to his knees where he stood. Rasia removed the knife from his belly and tossed it into the sink with bloody hands. She watched as Stephan fell face first to the floor, a trickle of blood escaping from his mouth as he breathed his last.

  Rasia stepped calmly over the man’s body and washed her hands at the sink before fetching her crackers from the cupboard. It simply wouldn’t do to eat with bloody hands. Her mother would have told her that. She took her snack and sat at the small table in the dining room, a smile glued to her face, and patiently waited for Oksana to return home to help her clean up the mess on the kitchen floor.

  Chapter 4

  That day had been the beginning of a brand new life and perspective for Rasia Engres.

  Oksana had returned home, and while one would think Rasia would be bracing herself, she was not. Her mother walked into the apartment to see her daughter sitting calmly at the table eating her after-school snack.

  “Hello, dearest,” Oksana had begun. “How were your lessons today?”

  Rasia chewed her mouthful and swallowed before responding. “Fine, Mama.”

  Her mother had gone about hanging her light jacket and putting her purse in its place next to her lounger. She then came to the table and stroked her daughter’s hair as she bent down and planted a kiss firmly on her forehead. She then turned toward the kitchen; Rasia put the last bite of cheese and cracker into her mouth, and began to hum to herself as she chewed.

  “Rasia, what has happened here?” her mama calmly asked.