DEATH AND THE RAVEN
by Stephanie Buday, 1995
00162763@ysub.ysu.edu

Author's Note:
The followingis a spec that runs along the Memnoch and Sins of the Past
thread. If you have not read them, you may want to go back and read them
first, as I do not explain the connections in this particular spec (It
preceeds both of those stories). This story takes place in the year 1937
and deals with the Vampire Armand after his departure from Louis. It is
a two parter ina series that will deal with the personal world of Armand.
The rest of it will follow after the completion of both Sins and Memnoch
since the rest of the story occurs after those events and the writer,
being the kind sort, wishes not to confuse the reader (SHUT UP JOSH! I
hear you snickering).  HMMM... a friend of mine tells me that I have
still managed to be confusing. This spec is a two parter and will be
published together. There is an up coming spec that is involved with this
and that is the one that will come out later. Oh great, now I'm rambling.
And so it goes...


		*		*		*

     Armand set out on his own for the first time in his long and
miserable life. He and Louis had parted when he realized there was
nothing more that he could siphon out of him. Every last bitof passion
and love, died with _her_and there was nothing that Armand could do or
say, that would revive Louis. "Such a waste." He mumbled to himself. "To
give so much to one that could never return the slightest bit of
gratitude or love. WHE ONe stands before him that could give whatever
it is that he could desire, he rejects it and prefers his dead world of
unfeeling art." He thought of the irony. "She was to him, as he is to me
now. Does he even understand this?"
     Armand had gone to see Lestat, confident that he would come back to
be healed, or maybe even love him, but that was a short lived hope.
Lestat had rejected him again, as broken and scarred as he was, he did
not need him. Lestat had gone underground to seek his rest and Armand
was alone again.
     HE meandered around New Orleans for a time, establising it as his
exclusive territory. Every vampire that wandered into the was given the
telepathic warning to stay away. Rumors that Armand was in the vicinity
made the quest exciting to most of them, for he was an outcast for his
part in the burning down of the Theatre des Vampyres, and the punishment
for killing ones own kind is death. He was a legend to most of them, and
each wanted to be responsible for bringing him down. None were successful
those who did not leave upon his warning were quickly done away with. It
became clear that he was too powerful to kill and so New Orleans was left
to him. He made his lair in the old and decrepid house abandoned by
Lestat. When he was convinced that it was secure from any mortal of
immortal intruders, he took to wander off to new places and towns. After
a few months, he would return to see if Lestat had awakened or to bring
some of the items he collected back to his lair for storage.
     HE had ran into Juliano once and traveled with him to Brazil. He
reluctantly participated in Juliano's demonic rituals for a short time
before growing bored and leaving. Juliano was aways good for amusment
for a little while, but eventually, he would become an annoying leech.
LIke a parasite, he lived off the ever word and wave of the hand as if
it were Armand's own blood. IN return, he only offered the ridiculas
aspectation that the cult would give them unlimited power. As farcical as
it was, it still managed to depress Armandafter some time. It ended the
way it always did for them. Armand would get abusive and then abruptly
leave before killing him.
     Before returning to New Orleans, Armand took a detour to Colorado.
He wanted to see the Rocky Mountains and the GRand Canyon he heard so
much about on his recent travels. He walked into a small town outside of
Boulder and there, sensed the presence of two vampires. He had not
expected to find any in a town with such a low population. He scanned
for more information. They were young, the oldest not being more the
a hundred years old. The other, a fledgling had no more then twenty years
behind, both were women. They were in a saloon and the eldest of them was
singing. HE had heard the accent before on the streets of London and
New York, it was Irish. He walked into the saloon to investigate further.
Such a beautiful voice she had, the vampires at the hieght of the theatre
could not compare to what he was hearing now. And such magnificent
beauty _she_ had as well! She had long black wavy hair and ice blue eyes
that reflected the light around her like the crystals of a chandelier.
He sat down and gazed at her mesmerized.

          Come away! O human child!
          To the woods and water wild,
          with a faery hand and hand,
          For the world's more full of weeping than
                   you can understand.

     He recognized the song from one of those books Louis had forced him
to read, it was from a poem entitled _THE STOLEN CHILD_  *But who wrote
it* he thought to himself. He could read a shelf full of books in a
matter of minutes, but ask him to remeber who wrote what, well, that was
hopeless. He knew the contents that the bookscontainted but they would
flow together until it was impossible to tell where one started and the
other ended. *Probably Wilde, Shaw or Yeats, it has to be one of the
Irish poets.*  He smiled to himself. *_THE STOLEN CHILD_, it's as if she
knew I was coming.*
     She abruptly stopped, shot a glance at him, grabbed her fledgling,
and ran out the door. He was so deep in trivial thought that he almost
did not notice them. He walked out after them. *Stop*  they stopped in
their tracks unable to move.  *I mean you no harm. Ley us go somewhere
to talk and I will explain everything to you.*  They followed him to a
cave he found just outside of the town. He made a fire and sat down
facing it to keep warm. They did as he did and then he began to talk.

"I am the Vampire Armand." he said I was on my way back to New
Orleanswhen I heard the singing, you have a beautiful voice young one,
your maker could have granted you eternal life for that alone."  The
fledgling spoke,
     "The Vampire Armandis an outcast, he would never allow anyother
vampire to view him and let them live. I've heard all the stories, he's
gone mad like the ancient ones, he destroyed two of his own covens and
now wanders the earth like the heretic rogues, destroying whatever
crosses his path."  Armand smiled at her to let her know that the story
amused him. He leaned close to her as if to tell her a secret.
    "Only for safty and to clean out the refuse, I assure you."  The
older one just stared at him in amazment. He could tell by the look she
was giving him that she believed he was telling the truth.  "Look, your
maker believes that I tell the truth."  The older one began to speak
for the first time.
     "Yes, I believe you are he. You look like like all the descriptions
I have heard of and you handle your mental abilities with such ease,
another sign that you speak the truth."
     "Is that why you ran away when you saw me? You thought I had come
to kill you because of the stories that you heard, or, is there another
reason? Have you done something to earn the death sentence among our
kind?"  He picked something up from the young one.  "Ah, yes that is it.
Who did you kill?"  HE turned to the older one  "Your maker?  No, it
wasn't him, he was too strong for that and I could see that you loved
him."  She was alarmed that he could read her with such ease. The blood
in her was powerful, but still he could cut through her shields as if
they were paper.  "You killed a coven master! That takes some doing,
you should be grateful to still be alive. I commend you on your
accomplishment, not many could do that and escape the wrath of the coven"
She was unnerved at his lack of restraint in peering into her mind,
almost as much as she was for her lack power against it.
     "Is that why you came here, to commend us for our crimes?  I'm sure
the great Vampire Armandhas better things to do then to seek out
criminals and congradulate them."
     "I was just passing through, I thought I might...talk to you, see
if there was anything new that might pique my interest."
     "And do we?"
     "Yes! after all, you were made by Mael, were you not?"  Again she
was shocked that he striped even that piece of information from her.
"He is even a greater legend then I. Did you not tell your little
fledgling about him?"  The younger one looked back and forth between the
two in disbelief. She interjected.
     "Aibrean! is it true, was your maker one of the ancients?"
     "Yes, I'm sorry for not telling you before, but it wasn't safe, the
others might have read your mind and exposed all of us. Daughter, it is
time you learn the truth. We do not go insane, we simply go on. The
ancient ones are not mad, they are enlightened. You needed more years
behind you before I could tell you about them. The other vampires will
pick your brain, like this one canto find out all you know. It was
better that you just believed the tales."
     "They are not all tales" Said Armand  "Many do go insane, do you
think that every one given the dark gift has the ability to withstand
eternity. About one percent of us can, the rest eventually go into the
fire. Did not Mael tell you this. And as for the ancient ones being
enlightened, you can pass that off as myth as well. How old do I appear
to you?"  Aibrean looked at him for a moment before answering.
     "You mean mortal appearence?"
     "Yes."
     "Seventeen, eighteen years old?"
     "I was seventeen when I was made. Do you think that it was an
enlightened decision, or one made by a love sick fool who needed a
companion?  You see, the only enlightenment that could come from them
is that they understand the meaninglessness of it all. Instead of
congragating to together to live by some made up rules, they chose to
live on their own and face the reality of isolation. Together, alone,
who is to say which is better, both make some wretched mistakes along
the way just the same. What you call enlightenment, I call a different
life style."
     "So, your maker was an ancient as well, that explains your power."
     "I'm not sure how much I was given when I was made, but what I can
do now, I learned on my own. I spent only six months with my maker before
his death."  He crossed his arms and began to pace as he spoke. "I have
a suspicion that your creator knew him well."
     "Whowas he?"
     "His name was Marius."  She looked stunned at his answer.
     "I've heard of him."  She said with hesitation in her voice. She was
not sure if it would be a wise decision to tell him that Mael had spoken
of him. ARmand had to be nearly five hundred years old if the stories
about him were true, and Mael's last encounter with Marius couldn't have
been more the a hundred years ago. She couldn't fathom why Marius would
creat and abandon one so young. She decided to tell Armand what she
knew. *He deserves that*
     "What do I deserve?"  Armand asked with concern.
     "Toknow that your beloved still lives."
     "What!  There are penaties for lying to a master vampire! You
escaped from one, do not think that you will from me. I assure you that
my power far exceeds his and I am not known for my kindness and mercy.
Thread carefully and think before you go on, I will know if you are
lying."
     "I'm sorry, I should have thought before I said that. I have never
seen Marius, I have only heard about him through Mael. I'm sure it was
just my mistake. From the way he spoke of him, I thought he was still
alive."  She herself, did not fear Armand, she was only trying to protect
her child. Death had long ago lost it'd control over her. She knew what
Armand had said earlier about the ancients was true, it only made sense.
Mael, in his efforts to win her over and later comfort her, had told her
that she, like the rest of their kind would go on for ever. It was only a
matter of time before each comes to the conclusion on their own that
they did not need the protection and company of the covens. She knew in
her heart before she ever laid eyes on Armand that it could not possibly
be true. He confirmed her suspicion and she knew what she must do now.
Armand's face grew grave and he let out a small sigh.
     "He is still alive isn't he? Some how, I always knew as much, I
never wanted to believe it. Maybe that is how i last so long, i need to
see him again. Did you see him Aibrean?"  He begged more then asked.
Aibrean began to pity this poor creature. He was alone, and the only one
that was ever able to console him had allowed him to believe that he was
dead.
     "No, I told you, I only have heard of him through Mael. I'm not
sure of the last time they met, but it seemed fairly recent. But recent
is relative to ones like them, it could have been half a mellennia. I
don't know if he is still alive Armand, I just asumed it."  Armand didn't
know if he should feel joy or misery with his new found hope. Marius,
alive after all the centuries of anguish. Whay had he stayed away for so
so long?  Was it his life in the satanic coven?  Armand would have died
for him had he returned.  He looked at Aibrean and his thoughts seemed
to melt away, she was an exquisite sight to behold. He was sorry that
he had gotten so angry with her, how could she have known his past. He
had only known her for a few hours and he already liked her. She had
the stregnth and collectiveness of Gabrielle, with none of her coldness.
They sat for a while in silence, then Aibrean began to sing to herself.

           Feuch an rogaire 'g iarraidh poige,
             Ni h-iongantas mor e a bheith mar ata
           Ag leanamhaint a gcomhnuidhe d'arnan na graineoige
             Anuas'a anois's nna chodladh' sa la.  ***

     In that moment, Armand felt as if he had left himself behind. There
was nothing now but the sound of her voice and he had melted into pure
consciousness. There would be no more killing or pain, just the sound
of perfection, the quintessence of love and peace. Afraid that he would
not be able to draw himself out of the fantasy, he shook himself and
began to speak again.
     "Why did you leave him?"
     "The coven master I killed, you know the story already."
     "No, that is why you came _here_, why did you leave Mael.  If it
were for the reasons you told me of, Mael could have taken care of that.
But you left him first, why?"
     "I don't wish to talk about that, if you will forgive me."  He bowed
to her in a gentleman like fashion.
     "Of course, you owe me no explanation." The younger one, Caitlin,
sneered at him.
     "He's toying with you, if he wants to know, it's his already."
Armand began to laugh *This one has fire in her, she talks as though she
has power behind it to fight. It is no wonder that she was the cause of
of the trouble in Ireland.*
     "Ah, you malign me madame, I have no wish to pry into what is no
immediate concern to me. Your secrets are safe. In good faith, I give
you this bit of information. Thay have stopped seeking you out."
     "Who?"  asked Aibrean.
     "The coven. They probably stopped right after you left. There is
never much love for the coven master, each wants the control for them-
selves. My guess is that they were too involved with a power struggle
to pay much attention to what happened to you. They chased you in the
beginning because they enjoy to play their little games."
     "Yes they do."  Now her mind was made up. She no longer had to
protect Caitlin from harm, she was free to die.  "And now, it is time
for this game to end."  Armand looked at her not understanding what she
meant.  "Promise me that you will leave Caitlin in peace."  Realization
hit him.
    "You don't mean to go into the fire do you?"  Armand asked.
Caitlin screamed.
     "NO! You can't leave me, not yet! I love you, I have so much I need
need to tell you, so much that I need to learn! Please don't go!"  She
was sobbing now, she pointed a finger at Armand.  "You did this to her!"
There was a hatred in her eye that was matched only by him when Lestat
had blown into his life and disolved his illusions. Aibrean stopped her.
     "No my love, this was coming for a long time. I was waiting to make
sure that you would be alright, now I know you will.  I must complete my
destiny, I'm not one that wants to go on for all eternity. I have seen
and done all that I wish to do and I have outlived my usefulness. There
is but one duty left to me now. Please Caitlin, you must release me and
be brave now."  A tear dripped down her face and the beauty that was hers
radiated throughout the cave.  Armand walked over to her and put his
hands on her face.
     "I understand why you want this, but think this through first. This
century is one of fast change, you might find new life in it."
     "No, it ends here. Mael chose poorly when he made me. I didn't have
the will or need for immortality. He was, in your words, a 'love sick
fool'."  Armand knew at this point that there would be no more argument,
her mind was set. He wondered who was stronger, those who lasted the
centuries, or those who could stare into the abyss and jump in. Just
another unattainable answer to add to the multitude.
     "I wonder if any of us have the stamina to last an inch of the rise
or fall of these mountains. It seems unnatural that anything should,
least of all things as wretched as ourselves."  He looked into her eyes
and a sad sympathetic smile appeared on his lips.  "Before you go," He
said to her in his soft angelic voice. "Please sing for me.  There is
time before the dawn."  He looked out of the cave at the slight pinkish
hue that appeared in the sky.  Caitlin became agitated by the request.
She was about to protest again when she heard his voice inside of her.
*Let her go*  it said. *It is her will. You will understand it all too
soon.*  Armand then used his powerful influence to send her to her daily
rest. Aibrean made a last gesture to her that it was alright and then
she began to sing. She chose her favorite Celtic hymn, and sang it in
her native Gaelic. Her voice was pure beauty, and for the first time in
his life, he thought he understood what the absolute good might be. He
wanted to weep at the cosmic injustice of it all, for it is virtue that
makes a poor companion for immortality.  She stepped out of the cave
still singing. she held her arms out stretched as if to beakon Armand to
join her. *No, my time has not yet come. there are old frienda that I
wish to see, amends to be made. Go, and find your peace*  Armand was
determinded to see Aibrean through to the final moment. The sun had begun
to rise and he peered out of the cave. her arms were still out stretched
but now they were directed to the sun. Armand wanted to run out to her,
he wanted to tell her that he loved her and needed her. But he knew
himself too well, he would flame away in her heart until it dried up. In
the end, he would drain her life like he did his victims, and that would
be the greater sin then allowing her to die. *I am with you*  he said to
her.  He saw the steam rising from her body. Still she sang, her voice
never faultering, her long black hair flowed behind her and she appeared
as a phantom. He thought he could see the sun's rays passing through her
and he wanted to hide his face from the ghastly sight, but he did not.
Armand trembled as he felt her passing. So many times he had experienced
the death of a vampire, but never with the emotional impact that was
hitting him now. Every nerve in his body was ringing, as the writhing
pain and rhapsodic melody played with his sanity. the mental connection
had been too close and he understood that he was feeling the pain that
she felt as the sun destroyed her.  he shut his mind down to protect him-
self from the intensity of the experience that threatened to consume him.
The death sleep approached him and he tried to resist it as long as
possible. He wanted to savor the moment and perfect it in his mind
before Time had it's chance to do it's inevitable damage. It was a losing
battle, the sun had burnt his face and his eyes were now blinded.
Instinct had taken over and he worked his way to the back of the cave
and collapsed into darkness.


*** Translated to English from it's original Gaelic by W.B. Yeats

          Look at the rogue, it's for kisses he's rambling,
            It isn't much wonder, for that is his way;
          He's like an old hedghog, at night he'll be scrambling
            From this place to that, but he'll sleep in the day.


The Title of this Spec is taken from two places

1. Sweeney Among the Nightengales by T.S Elliot

2. The Raven myth of the Northwest Coast Indians, explaining how the
   raven stole the light from the gods, and gave it to humanity.