“Maybe she doesn’t have any power left? Or maybe she never had any?” Desiree asked out loud.
“That’s preposterous! She made us!” Maryl bellowed.
“And kept making us century after century after century,” Clayton reasoned. “And that’s why she can’t escape the cage. Or perhaps she doesn’t want to. Maybe the power it took to get to earth, coupled with creating us, used all of her energy?”
Maryl looked to the ceiling while licking her lips. Her hands were on her hips. She looked back down and glared at Clayton. “Fine, Clayton. Extract information from her. Then you and Desiree will perish by my hands.”
Clayton pointed to Esme. “And what of her?”
Maryl looked at Esme. “She’s useless to me if she is devoid of energy. I will get rid of her too.”
Clayton sat down and leaned against the outer wall of the glass cage. “Who are you?” he whispered.
“I am Esme.”
“I know that. But who are you? Where do you come from? Why did you make us into vampires?”
Esme was quiet for a second. “Tell me, Clayton. Are you religious?”
“Yes and no,” Clayton said carefully. “I tend to shy away from that topic.”
Esme nodded slowly. Her eyes were still closed. “Have you ever heard of the Nephilim’s?”
Clayton rummaged through his mind, trying to recall the term. “Yes, I have.”
“Well, I haven’t. So, tell me,” Desiree said as she sat beside Clayton.
Their knees touched, and a small electrical current passed through them. Their eyes met, but neither one mentioned it.
“The Nephilim’s were, depending upon your theological slant, a byproduct or a hybrid of an angel and a human woman. They were known as giants or titans. What about it? You’re tall, but you’re not as tall as a giant. And with their legendary strength, this cage wouldn’t hold them,” Clayton said with conviction.
“Which means you’re not a Nephilim. Then why bring them up?” Desiree inquired.
Esme smiled. She opened her eyes, looked around her surroundings, and closed her eyes again. She sighed heavily. “You are correct. I am not a Nephilim. I am one of their offspring. The last survivor.”
Clayton was confused. “Wait, did you say you were the child of a Nephilim?”
Esme opened her eyes and stared at Clayton. “Yes, that is what I’m telling you.”
Maryl rolled her eyes. “Are you going to believe the nonsense that spews from her lips?”
Clayton looked up at Maryl. “Believe it? I don’t know yet. I will tell you that I am intrigued.”
“They spawned a new race?” Desiree asked incredulously.
“Yes,” Esme said in a neutral tone.
Maryl grinned in disbelief. “Oh? And what were you referred to as?”
“We were called the Elioud.” **
There was a moment of stunned silence. Each vampire looked at each other in awe and with some measure of trepidation.
“They are briefly mentioned in different religious affiliations, Esme,” Clayton remarked. “But, you’re all but forgotten in the human world, I’m afraid.”
“I am aware of what happens when time passes and the disappearance of memories in human history.”
“How did you manage to live as long as you have? I thought you had a lifespan of a thousand years. You’re double that,” Clayton said as he peered at the inert form.
“I lived longer than the rest of the Nephilims and the Eliouds because my hatred kept me going until time has eroded my soul.”
“Hatred? Esme, what’s your story?” Desiree said as she grew more concerned.
Esme put her head down between her arms for a few seconds. Her head suddenly came up with tears streaming down her face.
“I was the last born of my kind in my tiny village in Canaan, or what is now called Israel. We lived in the antediluvian (12) period.”
“Excuse my historical ignorance, but what was the Antediluvian period?” Desiree asked shyly.
Esme wiped away her tears as she smiled and reminisced. “It was between the collapse of humanity and the great flood that lasted for forty days.”
“I thought, and excuse my unfamiliarity with ancient culture, but didn’t every last thing perish except what was on the ark?”
“Then, you would be incorrect. The fact that I am here disproves your assumption.”
“Okay, say that we believe you and you survived the global catastrophe, what does that have to do with anything that led you to create us?” Clayton asked in exasperation.
Esme shook her head. “Your reasoning is one of misplaced impracticality and twisted idealism. You think the creation of vampires was the sole reason for my existence?” She slammed her fist against the inner wall. “Ignorant!”
“Umm, yes?” Desiree said. “Other than the oral history that has passed down, what other reference do we have?”
“I am an Elioud! I was able-bodied, abound with goodness, and unmatched energy, and that was my downfall. My father, the great Surot, was a Nephilim who was known as the greatest warrior in all the lands! He sought to teach me the ways of the soldier.” Esme rocked her head back and forth as the tears streamed down again. “But time after time, being shown the ways of combat, I could not even grasp the simplest concepts.”
“I bet that was frustrating,” Clayton said.
“Frustrating? Frustrating for whom? Me, who could not follow in her father’s footsteps? Who was a disgrace to the family? Whose father showed open contempt toward me? Or was it frustrating for my father, who sired a daughter that could not match his ferocity or his unparalleled skill set? Whose neighbors openly scoffed at us when I had to walk several feet behind him at the marketplace because I embarrassed him? Define frustrating!”
“Yes, Clayton, not everyone like you can eclipse their father,” Maryl said sarcastically.
“So, your father was discouraged with your lack of prowess? So what? There should have been other things to compensate,” Desiree said with sincerity.
Esme wiped off tears with the back of her hand. She took a deep breath and blew it out. “Do you know what happens to the Elioud, who doesn’t have what it takes to become a warrior?”
“I can’t even imagine,” Clayton said with renewed
