Chapter 4: Prelude to Puella Aeterna

Chapter Four: Prelude to Puella Aeterna

The genesis of the impending dawn began to creep slowly over the tops of the trees surrounding the nearly abandoned road. Abby, still crouched down beside the small stream, had managed clean most of the blood from her extremities. Though her clothes were still soaked and badly stained from their encounter, her angelic beauty was no longer cloaked beneath a viscous coat of blood. She looked up towards the sky and smiled as she noticed the shade of dark blue beginning to color the sky.

“Owen,” she took his hand into hers, “I wish I could sit here with you and watch the sun come up. Its been a very long time.”

“Me too,” Owen responded, gently squeezing her hand.

“That's one of the worst parts about being like me,” Abby frowned, “never feeling the warm sun again.”

Owen was unsure of how to respond to this. He would have given anything to become part of her world, to receive the caress of darkness and forsake the sun for all of eternity. Although he was unsure of how Abby would feel about granting him her gift, he resolved himself to discussing it with her when things settled down. Although the silence was somewhat awkward, he remained quiet, enjoying the moment of being close with her.

“I, um.” Abby looked down towards the ground as if embarrassed, her cheeks quickly gaining color, “I really like you a lot.” She could not look him in the face.

Owen also blushed. “I like you t-” his words interrupted by her lips pressing gently against his, her body trembled slightly. This was big. This was Owen's second kiss on the lips. Ever.

After several moments, their lips parted leaving both of their heads bashfully studying the content of the ground. Owen smiled so big that it hurt. Although he knew that he'd be spending another long day alone in an unknown place, that fact did not ruin the moment he had shared with Abby.

“Owen, I have to go now,” she gave his hand another squeeze and offered him a small, cute smile. The hue painting the sky began to grow brighter, they would soon be joined by the rising sun.

The two children walked hand in hand back towards the vehicle. After a few moments, Owen had successfully helped Abby into the trunk, securing it tightly shut. Jonathan watched in disbelief from the rear view mirror of the car. Owen moved to sit in the front beside Jonathan. He knew that questions would soon come, and he struggled with how honest to be.

After several minutes of silence, Jonathan began, “So, “ he paused for a moment, “I'm sorry, I forgot your name. What was it again?”

Owen wondered if he should give his real name, but decided that after all they had been through, it wouldn't hurt.

“Owen.”

“That's right. Owen. Okay, Owen,” Jonathan nodded.

“Don't be afraid of Abby.”

Jonathan smiled. He now knew her name too.

“I'm not afraid of her, Owen,” he cautiously began, “If she wanted to hurt me, I'm sure we wouldn't be having this conversation right now.”

“Yes.”

“Owen, she got shot many times.”

Owen nodded.

“When she was cleaning off back there,” he paused, trying to word this as delicate as possible, “I saw her back. She wasn't hurt at all.”

“You can't hurt Abby. Except for the sun.”

“Is that why she's hiding in that trunk right now?”

“Yes. She can't come out into the sunlight. It hurts her.”

Jonathan nodded his head slowly. He understood what the boy was getting at, but he could not convince himself that what was being said could be possible. Jonathan had begun feeling differently than he usually did in the last few hours. It had been several days since his last drinking binge and his head was beginning to clear. The ability to think both rationally and logically had returned. This fact made the boys words harder to believe. Nevertheless, the girl had been shot several times. He had seen it with his own eyes. How was he to explain the fact that her back showed no signs of injury?

Jonathan knew of the vampire myths. He grew up in New Orleans, a city known for its rich history of the occult and all things supernatural. As he had grown older and less religious, his belief in such things faded. Jonathan was a realist, an individual who believed in what could be explained by modern science. Abby, by definition, defied all of the assumptions that created the universe in which he lived. How could he explain her?

Despite all reason and logic, it was undeniable that the young girl, no older than twelve or thirteen, had been shot several times at nearly point-blank range and managed to “walk it off.” On top of this, she appeared to have absolutely NO wounds on her back. She then proceeded to, with her bare hands, decimate the band of thugs that had attacked him. How could any ordinary child, no, how could any ordinary HUMAN do that?

“Where are we going to go?” Owen asked.

“I don't know, Owen. We could go to my parent's house. They still live in New Orleans.”

“No!” Owen snapped.

“I'm sure they wouldn't recognize you.”

A look of bewilderment quickly formed on Owen's face.

“What do you mean?” Owen asked.

“Well, I assume you two are runaways. Why are you running, anyway?”

“I don't wanna talk about it.” Owen turned away from Jonathan and fixed his eyes on the road.

“Okay,” Jonathan spoke, “but we need to stay somewhere, Owen. I know my parents wouldn't say anything about you if I asked them not to.”

Owen said nothing, his mouth hung open as his eyes battled fiercely to avoid closing. Exhaustion began to creep up on the boy.

“Then its settled. To my parents house, we'll go.” After all, silence implied consent, didn't it?

Owen did not have the strength to argue further. His eyes closed as he slumped back into the seat, his mouth wide open. Exhaustion had won.

***
Owen stretched out along the comfortable mattress, his eyes slowly opening as his awareness of the surroundings slowly returned. He found himself in a small bedroom lit only by the pale moonlight that entered a circular window on the wall behind his bed. He noticed Abby's trunk sitting open on the floor beside his resting place. He was alone.

Leaning over the side of the bed, Owen let his legs dangle for a moment as he fully awoke from his nap. He must have been exhausted having slept through the day into the night. He noticed his shoes had been removed and placed at the foot of the bed. After putting his shoes back onto his feet, he stood and stretched one final time before allowing curiosity to get the best of him. Although he was nervous in his new surroundings, the empty trunk beside his bed offered him reassurance.

Owen exited the small door leading to a landing at the top of a spiral staircase. Below him on the ground floor he could see a decently sized sitting room, a red sofa with a large end chair sitting around a cabinet style television. He could hear a conversation being held on the floor beneath him. He paused to listen for a moment, stopping only once he could hear Abby's unmistakeable voice. He descended the staircase, faster than he had originally intended and found himself across from a kitchen that was much larger than the one at his apartment.

In the kitchen was a large table supported by four brass-colored legs. Owen could see Abby sitting on a chair at the head of the table. To her left he could see two older people, a man and a woman. Sitting directly across from the man was their new friend Jonathan. As Owen moved closer towards the kitchen, various wondrous aromas of flooded his senses and he was quickly reminded of how hungry he was. His stomach growled audibly.

Abby turned around as Owen moved into the kitchen. She offered a small, reassuring yet bashful smile at Owen.

“You're awake,” Abby exclaimed, her reassuring smile transforming into a beaming smile.

“Where are,” Owen began, his stomach yet again growling audibly, “we?”

Jonathan stood up from his seat and walked over towards the arch separating the kitchen from the adjoining room.

“Hello Owen. This is my mom and dad's home.”

A woman who appeared to be in her 60's stood from the table and also made her way slowly towards the arch. She smiled warmly at Owen.

“Hello Owen,” she began, “did you sleep well?”

Owen nodded his head.

“You must be very hungry, please come and join us. I'll fix you a plate.”

Looking at the table before him, Owen could see each of the people (including Abby) had plates of food set down in front of them piled high with various foodstuffs including mashed potatoes and gravy, cornbread, and pot roast. Owen looked towards Abby's plate and noticed that she had indeed indulged in a bite or two of the food placed in front of her. He was confused.

“Owen,” Abby said, “can you help me finish all of this food? I don't like to waste, and I'm just not feeling that hungry tonight.”

“Okay,” Owen responded timidly as he stepped closer to Abby.

The older lady's expression suddenly changed, a look of concern forming on her face. “Are you sure, dear? There's plenty to go around, and a young lady like you needs to eat to maintain her strength.”

Abby turned towards the lady and smiled.

“Yes, thank you. It must have been the ride,” she responded.

The man sitting at the table remained quiet, his expression sour. He glared in Jonathan's direction. Jonathan moved back towards his seat and pushed a chair closer to Abby for Owen. As Owen began to take a seat, he barely managed to avoid falling backwards onto the floor having slipped on a small piece of chewed meat on the floor. After sitting down, he began to eat ravenously from Abby's plate, looking up only for a moment when he was spoken to.

“Owen,” the lady began, “I'm Mrs. Marie. This is Mr. Ray.”

Owen looked up from the plate of food that was quickly approaching empty.

“Nice to meet you. Thank you for the food.”

The old man finally spoke, “Nice to meet you too, Owen.” He turned again towards his son Jonathan, a seemingly perpetual scowl filling out his facial features.

“Abby, Owen,” Jonathan began, “I'm going to say hello to an old friend of mine. She's a musical student at the university,” he raised a small piece of paper up and waved it around, “and she's participating in a concert there this evening. I know you just woke up, Owen, and that we just arrived here, but would you two like to come with me?”

Abby blinked a moment as if coming out of a daze and turned towards Owen, her expression one of discomfort at the idea.

Realizing Abby's discomfort, Jonathan quickly interjected, “Don't worry, nobody knows you here.”

Marie turned towards Abby and offered a soft, reassuring smile.

“Jonathan tells me you two have been through a lot. Perhaps some light entertainment is just what you need, dear.”

Abby was not convinced, but Owen's facial expression made gave away his excitement. Truth be told, the thought of going out with Abby made him feel almost normal. While he was sure that his life would never again be the same, this opportunity gave him a chance to feel somewhat normal. After leaving behind his family, he longed for a sense of normality. He wanted to go to this concert.

“Okay,” he blurted out, showing much more clearly than he intended just how excited he was.

Abby's expression slowly became more normal. A small smile began to form on her lips as she saw the excitement form on Owen's face.

“Okay,” she timidly responded, “I guess that'll be cool.”

“Now the music is likely to be like Beethoven and Motzart,” Jonathan warned, “not rock or anything like that.”

Abby's smile grew larger.

***

The trio sat in silence in the vehicle as Jonathan pulled out onto the street. After a moment, he turned and looked into the rear view mirror to find the children sitting close together.

“My dad was not happy,” Jonathan sighed.

“Why not? He wasn't happy to see you?” Owen responded inquisitively.

Jonathan glanced back into the rear view mirror at the children, “I guess I didn't leave here on the best of terms. Then there's the question of you two.”

“What did you tell them about us,” Abby asked, catching his gaze in the reflection of the mirror.

“Well,” he paused uncomfortably for a moment, ”I told them that you two are runaways escaping an abusive family.”

The two children sat in silence for a moment.

Turning to gaze out of the window, she watched the surroundings blur around them as she softly spoke, “What did they say?”

“Well, my mom is thrilled to have children in the house again,” he paused momentarily, “but my father is very angry that,” he began to mimic the voice of someone else,”I would pick up runaways. Especially children,” the mimicry stopped, “He's worried that the police will come looking for you and it will drag him and mom into whatever,” he again began to mimic his father, “mess I got myself into this time.”

“What about the car?” Owen asked.

Jonathan again glanced up into the rear view mirror in Owen's direction in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

Abby idly perched her hand beneath her chin as she continued to observe the path they had been traveling.

“He means this car,” she began, “you took it from the men who tried to kill you.”

Jonathan blinked and turned his attention back to the road and sighed deeply.

“Shit. I forgot about that. Thanks for reminding me.”

Owen responded timidly, “Welcome.”

“I have to ditch it somewhere. With any luck, no one will know it even exists. And actually,” he paused uncomfortably for a moment, “no one was left alive.”

“Someone will know. Someone always knows. You have to get rid of it,” Abby sagely responded.

“You're right. It's not worth taking the risk,” Jonathan agreed.

Owen reached out and took Abby's hand in his. He gave it a gentle squeeze as he turned his head towards the window she was gazing out of.
“What's your friend's name again,” Owen absently asked.

“April,” Jonathan responded, “it's been a long time. I don't know how happy she'll be to see me.”

“Why?” Owen asked as he turned his head back towards the front of the car.

“Well, I kind of left here in a hurry,” Jonathan fumbled for his words, “I wasn't planning on leaving so quickly, but some stuff happened and I had to leave. We haven't spoken since.”

Abby's eyes remained fixed on the view outside of the car. Although she remained quiet, a smirk had overtaken her previously angelic features.

“Oh.”

Several minutes later, the car came to a halt.

“We're here,” Jonathan began, “for better or worse.”

Jonathan paused for a moment and shut his eyes, lost in thought. After resolving himself to some fact, he opened the car door and exited.

“I'm not sure which building it's in,” Jonathan looked around for a moment before spotting a decently sized crowd congregating in front of one of the larger buildings not far from the parking lot, “That must be it.” he pointed.

The children followed closely behind him as they made their way along the paved walkway towards the building. Slowly, the crowd of people who had been standing in front of the doors began to file inside via the large glass doors. Jonathan stopped as they passed a small blue sign which had been hammered into the ground. The sign was adorned with the hand-drawn picture of a man seated at a grand piano and the words, “Concert Tonight!”

As they approached the building, Jonathan pulled the large glass door open for the children and followed them inside into a small corridor. The interior of the building seemed was very large from the outside, but from the corridor, it seemed tiny. The walk space was small, leveraging the majority of the building space to the rooms within. There were many doors scattered along the walls. Large poster boards decorated only by a large red arrow and the word “CONCERT” were strategically affixed to the walls directing patrons down the corridor to the left. The trio followed the signs up to a large wooden door at the end of the hallway.

Jonathan nervously sighed as he stopped directly before the door to the concert hall, his eyes taking in the small sign on the right: “QUIET PLEASE. CONCERT IN PROGRESS.” Reaching his hand out towards the sign, he ran his fingertips down along the smaller text stopping on a line which read: “MS. APRIL SAMPRESON, C. SKAFFS, PUELLA AETERNA.” He turned around to, as expected, find the two children following close behind him.

“Okay. This is where April is playing tonight. She'll be playing,” his voice trailed off as he turned back towards the sign, “Uhm. I'm not sure how you would pronounce it.”

Abby and Owen turned their gaze towards the sign almost in unison. Owen shrugged his shoulders before turning to Abby, half expecting her to once again amaze him by pronouncing the foreign words in their native accents, perfectly. Most unexpectedly, he was not met with the prodigal playfulness of her words, yet by a blank stare. Her eyes, two dark and endless fissures were beginning to fill with emotion *.

Owen gently reached down and took her hand into his offering a gentle, reassuring squeeze. Leaning in close to her, he whispered, “Abby?”

Jonathan squinted at the children, confused by the scene being played out before him. He turned his eyes to the girl, watching her intently as he wondered what was going on.

“Abby,” Owen once again asked, “You okay?”

Abby reached up to the sign and gently ran her pale fingertips along the words PUELLA AETERNA as if she were blind and reading a sign written in braille. Her lips curled up into an ever-so-slight smile as she responded, “I'm okay.”

Jonathan was lost, still unsure of what was happening. Turning his head in Owen's direction, he nodded, completely unaware of what was going on, but attempting to pretend he retained some amount of control over the situation. After several seconds, he asked, “Are you guys ready?” as he opened the large wooden doors, remaining on the outside to allow the children to pass before him into the concert hall.

The hall was much larger than Owen had expected. Slipping inside directly before Abby, he paused a moment to take it all in. The floor sloped downwards before him allowing access to many rows of benches reminiscent of church pews. The room, dimly lit by ambient lighting strategically placed along its length, was longer than it was wide with walls adorned by massive red curtains. At the end of the sloped walkway, Owen could see the raised stage that filled the entire length of the end of the room. Parts of the stage were brightly lit by spotlights concealed above by a large curtain that also spanned the length of the room. A large grand piano was positioned on the front right portion of the stage.

On the left of the stage was a sign adorned with a man sitting atop a horse against a backdrop of a large cathedral. The words, “The University of New Orleans welcomes you” were also visible, written in an elegant script beneath the image.

Abby slipped into the large hall, her eyes still cast downward towards the floor as if trying to find some dropped article. Jonathan also moved in following closely behind Abby. After several moments, he ushered the kids into the bench seating closest to the door.

Sitting down first on the bench, Abby stared directly forward in the direction of the platform directly in front of them, her attention fixed on something unknown. Owen sat down beside her followed by Jonathan on his left.

The three sat in silence for what seemed almost an eternity as several performers seemed to enthrall the entire hall with the exception of Abby. After about an hour and a half, more than half of the patrons had left the concert hall leaving only the trio and a hand-full of other families.

As one of the performances drew to a close, the dwindled crowd once again broke into an audible round of applause. Just as the clapping began to cease, a man began to walk slowly from a small door at the back of the stage. With each step taken, the man clutched his cane tightly, steadying his movements towards the front of the stage. After several painstaking steps, the man's movements come to a stop in the front, center of the stage.

The man reached up to cover his mouth with a small, white handkerchief as he coughed deeply into it. He gazed around at the dwindled crowd, his features curled into a wistful expression as he addressed the patrons, “Ladies and Gentlemen. I'd like to once again welcome you to the University of New Orleans Department of Musical Education. To close out our fine,” he paused a moment and once again raised his handkerchief to his mouth and coughed several times into it, “Pardon me. To bring our concert to a close, I'd like to welcome my student and dear friend Ms. April Sampreson to the stage. Please give her a round of applause.”

A young woman rose from the audience several rows ahead of them and slowly began to make her way down the sloped floor, basking in the meager applause of the remaining patrons. As she approached the stage, she climbed up a small set of steps and seated herself at the grand piano, staring intently at the keys in front her, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

The man, still standing at the front of the stage began to spoke again, “April came into our program three years ago, and I've been mentoring her since day one,” he turned his head in her general direction, offering a warm smile, “She's quite a talented musician as you will soon see. For your enjoyment, she will be performing a rare piece indeed! Charles Skaffs was a composer shrouded in mystery. Unfortunately for both him and us, not many of his pieces were ever written down or taught. Ms. Sampreson has made it her senior thesis to study both the life and music of Mr. Skaffs. Tonight, you're in for a real treat. This is one of Mr. Skaffs earliest and most rare pieces, pieced together from the little we do know of it. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Ms. April Sampreson's interpretation of Puella Aeterna.” The man once again clapped his hands together sending the entire (small) remaining audience into applause.

After several moments, the young woman at the piano began to lift her fingers to the keys and began playing.

***
* - I picture Abby's expression to be the same as when she first reaches Thomas' window at the hospital before she asks if she can come in.