Thousand Year Old Vampire – Prompt #9

I was right, something was very wrong with me. I could not eat, anything I forced down came back up immediately. At first I thought I was sick, poor Caitrìona must have been convinced that I was dying. I thought I was.

It was the healer who saved me, though not in any way he expected. I was lucid enough when he came, summoned by Cait. Somehow I could sense his barely contained enthusiasm, I was a great mystery and new puzzle to be solved.

So I asked him about it. My questions were fumbling and confused at first, not knowing much about the healing arts myself. But as we talked he became more and more animated, more inspired. He talked of the Greeks and their Humours and of his study of various healing herbs and potions. He told me of his new theories, his desire to study the human body directly to cut it open and observe the workings directly, while the subject—sedated of course—still lived.

I should have been repulsed at the notion, but I was enthralled as he talked. At first I didn't notice my exhaustion lifting, my hunger abating, then I sat up and went to enthusiastically grab his hand, and stopped myself.

I felt so alive, so bound up in the joy of his inspiration, but I knew this wasn't natural. I made some excuses and sent him on his, afraid that I would hurt his feelings with my sudden lack of hospitality, but he barely noticed, driven now to rush home and start upon his work.

In the quiet after I left, I reflected on what happened. I still felt that drive, that inspiration burning inside me, sustaining me. I remembered the scroll and how the Leanan Sídhe consumes its victims very life force, but in return they would access boundless creativity, at least for the short time that they had left to live.

I realised then, I had done something wonderful, I had done something horrible.

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