Supernatural: The Collection

If there was a way to make herself remember, to hold those memories deep inside her soul, Lilah had the key to find the way. The sound of her own heartbeat pounded in her ears and drove her to a certain point of madness. She had no real way to tell them what her thoughts lead her to believe. It was damnable, the level of sadistic and mischievous little voices in her head. It was here, in the fathomless depths of humanity’s clouded past, the sunken crypts from long ago that her answer was. The virus, disease infested caricature of Death.

In it’s hallowed domain, the damp, eerie coldness unknown anywhere else. Pseudo-cement walls with carved out niches, dozens upon dozens of candles with wax protrusions like silenced rivers. The air smelled stale, a placid and brackish lake. Something lured her here, to this place of the dead, where sinners and saints laid. Beneath the city streets, beneath the living feet, even further than that. The endless catacombs where many dead ends surprised oneself at every turn. Eventually the rows of niches and conveniently lit candles ended. She pulled out her flashlight and switched it on.

It was all like a distant life, forgotten and suddenly acknowledged. That all too familiar feeling of a past so close at hand, but slipping away. Lilah gripped her flashlight tighter with her right hand, running the other along the wall. Her body was slowly succumbing to the power in the underground sanctuary, the numbness, sniffles and pounding fear of closed spaces aiding to that inane sense of something wrong. Shaking her head and pushing back a few strands of wild ebony that had slid in front of her vision, she stopped a second to catch her breath. The light from her flashlight wavered, flickering on and off.

“No!! Not here! Not now!!” She jiggled the flashlight for a moment then stopped.

Her voice echoed and bounced off the walls behind as well as in front of her and she gasped when the light went out fully. She backpedaled after hearing her own voice. But there were undertones of something else, reverberating thuds, evenly paced. Someone else was down here with me, is what she thought. Her nostrils flared and she turned, moving as quickly as she could backwards. Her hands ran along the damp walls as she moved, the flashlight fell to the cobbled floor the metallic clattering made an unusual sound all it’s own. Lilah didn’t know what to do as she tripped over something, a downed candle or what have you. Sprawling out on the floor, those footsteps came closer, more clipped and precise. Piercing rays of artificial light hit her face and she lifted a hand to shield her eyes. A deep velvety voice reached her ears and she was taken under its spell. The fear that had held her tense and awake for so long fled and she collapsed like a rag doll.

He was there to catch her before her head hit that unyielding paved way of stonework. To his eyes, she was beautiful and rare. He’d only been above ground a few years ago and everyone was blond or so it seemed. Too much falsity to hide the painful reality. He had returned here to be real. Not to kid oneself but the world had changed too much since that century he lived in. Hoisting her up in his arms, he absently sensed the pulse of life deep within. His first concern was her well-being. The way he held her in his arms, he could feel her ribcage against his chest and feel the beating of her heart. Her warm breath reached his skin through his threadbare shirt. He held her aloft without much effort. There were lines of sorrow etched above her brows, but the way they arched and the naturally dark bristle lashes made him stop in his tracks to admire her features more. Her skin was pale, like his own, but it lacked that dead pallor he had become used to seeing in the mirror, it was porcelain and he suddenly realized how soft she felt against his unnatural hardness. The more he studied her, the more he felt like he knew her or perhaps had known was the way of it. She reminded him of… He smiled and whisked her away, deeper underground into that catacomb area he called home.


Lilah awoke to the sound of a violin playing, something soft and mournful, altogether depressing. Her kind of music to be honest, well at least lately. She sat up and glanced around, hugging her knees to her chest where she was. It was grand, floor to ceiling bookshelves filled with old and dusty tomes, intricate carvings of leaves and vines, and a desk that sat upon a dais. She was down in a sunken circle consisting of a chaise lounge on which she sat and a few high-backed leather chairs, as well as a coffee table over a rather ancient oriental rug. Books took up space everywhere on the coffee table, one chair as well as towers on the floor near the desk. One seemed to be open and she stood, walking over to try to read it, curiosity driving her. The language was indecipherable to her eyes, but she fingered the paper and found it to be feather-light, smooth parchment and the ink was wet. It smeared and she gasped, eyes darting around. She saw no one, but had that overwhelming sense of being observed. The mixture of candlelight and oil lamps did little to reassure her. There were large double doors just the opposite of the desk. Those were open and outside the doorjamb she shuddered at the all consuming darkness. Her thoughts flew to that man from the tunnel, the one who had spoken to her…

…And as if bidden, he appeared behind her, seeming to rise from a shadow of stacked books. He set the violin on the desk and smiled, speaking softly, “Well my dear, how are you feeling?”

She stammered a reply, “A bit better. I’m ashamed to say that the atmosphere in that place made me jumpy. I….” She broke off there and he laughed, her eyes locked to his.

Lilah’s lips parted in wonder, those eyes of his were so blue, crystalline and clear. He smiled and took her hand, leading her over to the lounge again. Gesturing for her to sit, he poked at the fireplace. Her thoughts ran wild, wondering how she had missed that thing earlier in all its Gothic glory. It nagged at her rational side, how could he have a fireplace way down here?

He felt her eyes on him and heard her thoughts. Turning, he gave her that debonair smile that used to make women weak in the knees when he was alive. Oh he was quite dead, but she didn’t have the ability to see that, at least not right now. Not that he was going to give himself away, at least not outright. He’d do it in a much more finessed way, more drawn out. He was racking his cobwebbed mind for who she looked like. Her head was tilted as she watched him, no emotions flickering across his face to betray what he was thinking, nothing but that distant look. He snapped out of it and moved towards her, drawing back his hair.

When he got closer to her again and the firelight hit it, she blinked repeatedly. Striking auburn hair and piercing baby blue eyes, that full mouth that made her want to kiss him. He might have looked a little on the pale side, but she inwardly shrugged. The most amazing thing was that he had no freckles, not a single one. Strange to note since red hair usually came with freckles. He ran a hand through his hair and pulled the mass back over his shoulders, but they fell forward nonetheless, giving him the appearance of the mane of a lion. That glimmering look in his eyes was also predatory, but it disappeared in an instant.

She extended her hand and smiled sweetly, pouty lips pulled back half way to reveal perfectly pearly whites. Her eyes were the color of rained out violets and he found them entrancing and soulful. He took her hand in his and lifted it to his mouth, brushing his lips against the back of her hand. Blushing, she bowed her head and roamed her eyes around the room, then she snatched her hand away and grinned sheepishly.

“It’s nice to meet you and I forgot to tell you my name. I’m Lilah St. James. And you are..?” He chuckled and smiled with his reply, trying to put her at ease, “I am Adam Drake, Lilah dear. Pleasure to meet you. Do you mind me asking how you found your way down here?”

She sighed and looked at her hands folded in her lap before speaking, “I’m here on a mission. I have to find a way to regain my memories. It’s bad enough I have a set not my own, something hidden else is from me, something that I feel is important. Plus I was somehow drawn down here, to you and this place. Something inside my mind told me to come here. I…I’m sorry for unloading my burdens on you, Adam.”

Blushing again, she bowed her head more and bit her bottom lip. He smiled and lifted her head up, his hand under her chin. Lilah flinched a bit at the coldness of his hand, but stored that bit of information in the back of her head. His eyes bore into her own and she sighed while he spoke, “Lilah, you should not worry of your burdens with me, I was told I am a good listener. And you, my dear look like someone who needs a person who can listen. I promise not to hold and judgment against you. I promise.”

She smiled brightly and nodded, scooting away a bit from his hand and leaned against the lounger while she spoke:

“To begin at the beginning sounds just right. I’m a normal kid from a normal family, plus I was the only child. I lived in suburbia and went to school a few blocks away. I walked all the time, but one day my parents came to get me, I was in the eighth grade or so. I was being picked up for some reason or another, I forgot what it was. Anyway, we were hit by an eighteen-wheeler coming home and they died instantly during the roll-over. I was in the back, so I was alright. The truck driver just kept on going while I climbed out and looked around for help. It was an isolated part of the road, so I was out there for almost two days before someone came by. A police officer of all things. He took me into custody and from there I bounced around in foster care until I was eighteen, mostly because I had no living relatives. I’m now twenty-five. I can’t exactly say it’s something I’d want to relive. Foster care is one of the worst things a child can go through.”

He listened intently until something surprised him; she had started to cry, clutching at him and burying her face into his chest. Well trying the latter. His skin was so hard and shockingly stiff. She was surprised and frightened at the same time. He pulled her close and ran his fingers through her hair in an attempt to calm and sooth her.

Soon Lilah regained control over her emotions and broke away from him. Wiping at her tear-stained cheeks with the back of her hand, she forced a smile. Her heart wrenched when she looked into his eyes. An imbedded image in her mind rose up and wavered around him. It was like this man, but in a different garb, more aged. A top hat and tuxedo with coattails to the nines. For all the glorious splendor he was rendered in, she was all shook up. Uneasiness rose from the pit of her stomach and tried to drive sense into her resisting limbs.

Shifting away from him, she ran a nervous hand through her hair and smiled wanly. He tilted his head and lifted both hands to her cheeks, looking intently into her eyes. Biting her bottom lip, she tried to look away, finding herself only entranced, the sensation of his chilled digits on her face faded away. His thumbs grazed along her features under her eyes and she shivered, amethyst meeting a darker sapphire. Her nostrils flared and she blushed, squirming under his gaze. It really was too much and she struggled to find the will to tear herself form him.

Suddenly the world reeled before her eyes and she found herself in his arms. Her own were wrapped around his neck, holding on. Apprehension and uncertainty filled her blood and common sense screamed in her mind. But, she ignored all of them, instead listening and obeying that delicious tingling of darkness spreading from the pit of her being all throughout her body, silencing the voices of sanity and society.

Adam smirked when she laid her head on his shoulder. He carried her along a stairwell and into his private quarters. Her heard her heartbeat in his mind, felt her blood coursing through her veins with his skin. He heard her gasp when they entered his room. It was resplendent with intricately carved panels of mahogany, the furniture was overly opulent, and it looked like a page from Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities. It was far more extravagant than the study they were just in.

An inner knowing crept along her skin like thousands of spiders. Something pricked her brain. Another thought, unbidden, unimagined came before her eyes.

Adam let go of her once he saw that look that need to explore her surroundings. Lilah’s eyes had glazed over, remembrance taking its hold on her. She reached out and ran her hand along every surface as she neared the bed. Reverently she fingered the black satiny coverlet and then looked to him. Blurred figures entered through those double doors again, wispy renditions of them from long ago. A flurry of color, clothes and flesh, then the bed. Blinking, she lost the image, but the knowing of what took place colored her cheeks and she glanced around nervously.
His eyes were locked to her, pupils dilating, frightening her in their intensity. Lilah knew he knew what she had seen, what she had remembered. He took steps towards her, cautiously as she backed away from the bed, leaning against the wall. Adam smiled slowly, giving in to the desire to show a bit of fang. But, her eyes never strayed from his. Once he was close enough he put his hands on her and slid them along her sides, even through the cashmere sweater she felt them. Goosebumps rose on her flesh as she endured his touch.

Then, she felt him move closer, suffocatingly so and she lifted her own hands to stop his advance, even tried her voice, “Please Adam….Don’t…”

Her plea fell on deaf ears as he nuzzled her hair away from her neck, whispering, “I love you Lilah, I always have…Even all those years ago. Now I’m going to finish what I started, I’m going to make you mine for all eternity. Death cannot touch you again.”

She gasped and closed her eyes as he kissed her throat. Adam smirked and nipped at the tender flesh there, pressing her into the wall, one hand on the small of her back, another gently tilting her head to the side, exposing more of her neck to his attention. He couldn’t hold back, the thirst was too strong. His mouth closed on one spot, fangs punctured her skin and he drank from her. Her eyes closed feeling sudden pain but she moaned softly soon after, holding his head to her neck. She was spiraling downward, into the darkest depths she had ever seen, the secret place in her mind. She saw a sudden flash of knowledge. Something she ought not to have known, but this was the SAME. This feeling, this man, this place, all of it. Hadn’t he said he’d loved her since long ago? Her mind whirled and she saw a night long since passed, a theater production, dinner and then that magnetism to the cloistered underground. He tried to do this that night as well, but she had fled, ran away. A sudden cave in had trapped her old body here, but she was reborn. Fear no longer held her mind from her, she knew and it made her mad.

Consciousness rocketed up form those depths aided by hatred and anger. She came to on his bed, his hand in hers, stroking. Sitting straight up, she glanced around and licked her lips, feeling a bit long in the tooth. Lilah smirked and reached up, touching her neck. Those marks were there, of course, but she felt so cold. Passing the threshold of damnation, she laughed manically for a moment, that memory still fresh at hand and turned to look at him.

Her eyes were so deep a purple that they looked black and he smiled, standing and kissing her cheek, “I see you have made it through alright. I always knew you were strong enough to stay by my side. That is what made you worthy.”

Her reply was harsh and cold as her body felt, “Adam Drake, pervert of the bodily flesh and eternal soul. I never wanted this; you gave me no choice this time. I’ve always been strong. Even after countless rebirths to stay free from you, here I am. ”

He looked shocked, “This time? My dear, how could you remember that? You died when I revealed myself to you. Well, you died of a cave in within the catacombs. As for reincarnation, I must say this last time got you perfect.”

She glared at him, sneering a bit, “I’m now like you, undead and damned. You cannot twist this around and make me blame myself. As the saying goes, you should have let sleeping dogs lie, dearest.” That last bit was bitter and filled with disdain.

Lilah lunged at him, tackling him to the ground. With fangs bared, she wrestled with him, now a perfect match for his preternatural abilities. Adam was surprised; he did not know that her mind and memories had carried over attached to her soul through each incarnation. His head snapped back against the floor, jarring him out of his mental reverie. She stood over him, one of the candelabras from the study in her hand. He blinked, wondering how she got it so fast. Lilah didn’t give him much more time to think, plunging the golden apparatus into his chest, edging it between his ribs. Dark blood sprayed across her clothes and soaked into his own, a bit pooled on the floor. She maneuvered the candelabra higher up and drove it into his heart.

Adam’s face contorted in pain and she hissed at him, “You’ve made me a prisoner in my own body; you gave me the worst memory and nightmares of my childhood. I’m ending your miserable existence now!”

He had no words for that since Death truly came upon him. She stood up and dragged him by the collar, then tossed him into the fireplace. Her mind held his memories as well as her own and she wept. He had loved her, truly, but her revenge had taken control of her limbs, her mind, and her soul. She sat in that large armchair and watched his body burn, licking his blood from her fingertips. Closing her eyes slowly, she listened and heard the footsteps above her, those of people, warm and blood-filled. Lilah threw back her head and laughed, walking along the passage to the surface, her eyes better adjusted to the darkness now, her sense of direction vastly improved and her guilt was silenced in those first dregs of blood from an unwilling victim.

She had found the way to keep her memories, the way to remember who she was and in it’s hollow existence the understanding of why she had to forget to begin with. Oh the sweet irony!


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