Remy sat with his wife Mireille and was recounting his rules that they all must follow. The main one was that certain powers were never to be allowed.
He knew that once a person was embraced with the memory gifts would be conduits for the Seven. Mireille was already a vampire and powerful but they didn’t want another chance for The Seven to gain a foothold back to the land of the living.
——
Mireille was in the dreamscape sitting in their hidden mansion in Marseille France. It was one that had been her family home for centuries and it became their private seat of power.
Remy had been gone for over 600 years but she still had the ability to contact what she dreamed. She loved and hated him for many reasons. He was never a great person ruling by fear but he had always loved her even when they were both humans.
“I don’t know what to do, my love. There have been so many embraced and they haven’t followed what the Houses have been doing for centuries. Brigitte turned a vampire known as Alexandre, he has turned a person who has the touch reading gift.”
“WHAT?” He yelled.
“Yes he turned Astucia and now we are open to some issues we just don’t know what.”
“The Seven will come for her and will also come for you now. It could take decades for Mneme to come back into being. Watch your dreams as she will intercept them and she will push to have you become her servants.”
She nodded and Mireille knew for sure that this would be hard. Noone has been able to keep Mneme out ever. She could shield but she had her ways to try and protect certain things like her hiding spaces.
——
Astucia had re-lived the memories that had been stolen from her. She was upset and she was ready to go after the people who were responsible.
Mireille had been like a grandmother to her the same as Brigitte was like a mother to her. This is why it hurt so much that she felt betrayed for so long.
Brigitte came into the office where Astucia was in contemplative meditation. “You wanted to see me Astucia?”
Astucia nodded “I am going to have to leave this place. I need to find out more information which means finding Mireille.”
Brigitte looked strangely at Astucia.
“You are looking for Remy’s wife? Why would you want Mireille? She hasn’t been seen in a hundred years.”
Astucia opened her eyes.
“That’s exactly why.”
Brigitte remained silent.
“The memories showed me things,” Astucia continued. “Things that were taken from me. Mireille knew about my gift long before I understood what it was.”
“She loved you.”
“Then why did she leave?”
Brigitte hesitated.
That was enough.
Astucia stood.
“You know something.”
“I know Mireille disappeared deliberately. Remy had been dead for centuries, yet she continued obeying rules nobody understood. She warned me once that there were gifts among our kind that should never survive the Embrace.”
Astucia felt something cold move through her.
“My gift.”
Brigitte nodded slowly.
“Memory.”
The word seemed strangely heavy.
Astucia walked toward the window.
“I’ve seen a name.”
Brigitte’s expression changed.
“What name?”
“Mneme.”
Brigitte went completely still.
Astucia turned toward her.
“You know it.”
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
Brigitte shook her head.
“I don’t know who Mneme is.”
She paused.
“But I remember Mireille telling me something a very long time ago.”
“What?”
Brigitte stared at Astucia.
“If you ever hear a voice inside a memory that doesn’t belong there, don’t answer it.”
Astucia’s anger disappeared.
Because suddenly she remembered something.
During one of the memories she had recovered, someone had whispered her name.
She had thought it was part of the vision.
It wasn’t.
“Astucia?” Brigitte asked.
Astucia looked at her.
“I think she already knows who I am.”
——
Astucia was thinking back to her final moments with Mireille.
The memory came back slowly.
Not like the others.
There was no violence. No screaming. No blood.
That somehow made it worse.
Astucia remembered Mireille’s mansion in Marseille. Rain tapped gently against the windows while a fire burned low in the enormous stone fireplace.
Mireille stood beside it.
Astucia remembered being angry.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, child.”
Astucia rolled her eyes. “I’m not a child.”
“To me you always will be.”
Normally that would have made Astucia smile.
It didn’t that night.
Mireille turned toward her.
“You used your gift again.”
Astucia stiffened.
“How did you know?”
“Because I know you.”
Astucia crossed her arms.
“I helped someone.”
“You touched something that belonged to a dead vampire.”
“And I saw what happened to him.”
“That is precisely what frightens me.”
Astucia frowned.
“I can control it.”
“No.”
The answer came so quickly that Astucia stared at her.
Mireille crossed the room and took Astucia’s hands.
“You listen to me now. You must never use that gift again.”
Astucia pulled her hands away.
“Why?”
“Because memories are not dead things.”
“What does that even mean?”
Mireille hesitated.
Astucia saw something in her eyes she had almost never seen before.
Fear.
“There are things Remy and I were forbidden to speak about. Things the Great Houses buried long before either of us was born.”
“Then tell me.”
“I cannot.”
“Cannot or will not?”
“Both.”
Astucia laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
She started toward the door.
“Stop.”
Something in Mireille’s voice made her turn.
Mireille approached her again.
“When you touch an object and see its memories, you believe you are looking backward.”
“I am.”
“No.”
Astucia frowned.
Mireille’s voice dropped almost to a whisper.
“You are opening something.”
The room suddenly seemed colder.
“What?”
“A door.”
Astucia stared at her.
Mireille continued.
“Every time you reach into a memory, something on the other side may feel you.”
Astucia shook her head.
“You’re trying to frighten me.”
“Yes.”
The answer surprised her.
Mireille stepped closer.
“Because apparently loving you isn’t enough to make you listen.”
Astucia’s anger returned.
“You sound like Remy.”
Mireille recoiled as though Astucia had struck her.
Neither spoke for several seconds.
Astucia immediately regretted it, but pride kept her silent.
Finally Mireille nodded.
“Perhaps I do.”
“Mireille—”
“No. Listen.”
There were tears in Mireille’s eyes now.
“Promise me you will never use the gift again.”
“I can’t promise that.”
“Then promise me you will never answer.”
Astucia stared at her.
“Answer what?”
Mireille’s face had gone pale.
“The voice.”
Astucia felt a chill.
“What voice?”
“If you are inside a memory and someone speaks to you—someone who should not know you are there—you leave immediately.”
Astucia stopped breathing for a moment.
Mireille grabbed her shoulders.
“Do not speak to it. Do not give it your name. Do not ask who it is. Do not follow it deeper into the memory.”
“Who are you talking about?”
Mireille shook her head.
“I’ve already said too much.”
“Tell me!”
“I can’t!”
Astucia shoved her hands away.
“You never tell me anything!”
“Because I am trying to keep you alive!”
The words echoed through the mansion.
Astucia stared at her.
Mireille’s anger disappeared almost immediately.
She reached for Astucia’s face, but Astucia stepped backward.
That hurt Mireille more than anything else could have.
“Please,” Mireille whispered.
Astucia shook her head.
“I thought you understood me.”
“I understand you better than you know.”
“No. You’re afraid of me.”
Mireille’s eyes filled with tears.
“I am terrified for you.”
Astucia turned toward the door.
“Goodbye, Mireille.”
“Astucia.”
She stopped but didn’t turn around.
Mireille’s voice trembled behind her.
“If someday you remember this conversation differently, trust what your blood tells you—not what your mind remembers.”
Astucia looked over her shoulder.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Mireille stared at her for a long moment.
Then she whispered the words Astucia would not understand for another century.
“What the mind forgets, the blood remembers.”
Astucia walked away.
That had been the last time she saw Mireille.
The recovered memory began to fade.
Astucia expected darkness.
Instead, she found herself standing in Mireille’s mansion again.
The fireplace was extinguished.
The windows were black.
And someone was sitting in Mireille’s chair.
A woman Astucia had never seen before.
She slowly raised her head.
And smiled.
“Hello, Astucia.”
Astucia froze.
This wasn’t part of the memory.
The woman tilted her head.
“You finally remembered me.”
Astucia quickly pulled out of the memory. She now knew where to look for Mireille but was she able to keep that memory hidden from.
——-
It had been two months before she could set out and that was more to throw off Mneme and she had even stopped opening up her power and allowing any visions coming through.
She had wondered how the dreams had found her as she has never before had the ability to enter the Dreamscape. In fact it was a gift that the magical community had outlawed many centuries ago.
She hasn’t always understood what she had been meant to do. She now believed that she was destined to become either Memory by taking out Mneme or she would die trying.
Knowing that Marseille was the place that Mireille had lived a long time and where she had been happiest.
She travelled slowly, taking a week to get to the villa and the mansion that had been placed upon the vineyard. As she approached pretending to be a tourist who was out for a nighttime stroll.
The property had high stone fences that were extremely well taken care of. There was a huge iron gate that blocked the casual entrance. The place still looked as if it was taken care of.
She opened the gate but a man came out “No entrance miss”
She looked at him with disdain and then sniffed the air. He wasn’t human or vampire or anything else. There was no scent but she could feel the blood magic. “Out of my way”. When he wouldn’t move she reached for the magic and violently ripped it away. The man disappeared.
She walked through and closed the gate and pushed a bit of blood magic into the lock which would prevent anyone from opening the gate and it would show them exactly what she had seen when she first approached the mansion.
The mansion was enormous and it had a fresh paint job. She entered the home and saw the paintings of the family including adult pictures of Remy and Mireille. From all angles this looked like a place where a family had lived but also been loved.
She had known a bit about Mireille and that her family had been nobles but had never understood or even believed in the magical communities. When Mireille first fell in love and married Remy and her were both human.
Remy was turned first and showed Mireille love still until a few years later she was changed by Remy as she has become ill and he wasn’t sure she would survive.
She could see toys as well in a toy box where kids had played. She didn’t realize that they had kids or that kids were ever really part of this home after they were changed.
She could sense a powerful shield around this home which would block out anyone trying to scan in here. Knowing the shields were more powerful than any she had seen before she felt more comfortable in opening her mind to her touch reading.
She touched a toy and the memory seemed to have been hidden so she opened further and shoved her way through the sludge that was trying to block her. She saw 3 children, a boy and 2 girls. She could then see blood and saw the images of the boy and girls fading from memory.
She felt sadness and it wasn’t frome her. She could picture that there were many complex emotions and it felt like that of a mother.
Her own emotions were taking control so her gift came over her.
—-
The mansion in Marseille was silent.
Not the peaceful silence Mireille remembered from the years before everything had gone wrong. This was the silence of a house that had lost something it could never recover.
Their children were dead.
Even in the dreamscape, Mireille could feel their absence.
She stood beside the tall windows overlooking the moonlit gardens. She remembered children running through those gardens centuries before. She could almost hear their laughter.
Almost.
Behind her, Remy sat before the fireplace.
He had not moved for several minutes.
Finally, Mireille turned toward him.
“Say their names.”
Remy’s eyes lifted.
“No.”
“Say them.”
“I said no.”
Mireille crossed the room.
“Mneme murdered our children, Remy. You don’t get to pretend they never existed because remembering them hurts.”
His expression hardened.
“You think I have forgotten them?”
“I think you’re trying to.”
Remy stood so quickly that the chair scraped backward across the stone floor.
“I remember everything!”
His voice echoed through the mansion.
For a moment Mireille saw the man he had been when they were young. Not the vampire lord. Not the monster others whispered about.
A father.
A broken father.
Remy’s voice dropped.
“I remember finding them.”
Mireille looked away.
“Don’t.”
“You wanted me to remember.”
“Not like this.”
“But that is how Mneme wants us to remember them.”
Remy walked toward the fireplace.
“Their deaths weren’t murder.”
Mireille stared at him.
“What would you call it?”
“A message.”
His hands curled into fists.
“Mneme could have killed us. She didn’t. She took them instead.”
Mireille closed her eyes.
She already knew why.
Remy continued.
“Because we defied her.”
“No.”
“Because I defied her.”
Mireille’s eyes opened.
Remy finally looked at his wife.
“She warned me.”
Mireille went still.
“What?”
“She warned me what would happen if I interfered with the gifts.”
Mireille stared at him in disbelief.
“You never told me that.”
“I thought it was a threat.”
“It was a threat!”
“I thought it was an empty one.”
Mireille crossed the room and struck him across the face.
The sound cracked through the chamber.
Remy didn’t retaliate.
He simply stood there.
“You knew?”
“I knew she was angry.”
“Our children died because you challenged her?”
“Our children died because Mneme wanted us to understand that nothing belonging to us was beyond her reach.”
Mireille struck him again.
This time tears ran down her cheeks.
“You arrogant bastard.”
“I know.”
“You always think you’re the strongest creature in the room.”
“I know.”
“You think everyone can be frightened into obedience.”
“I know.”
Her fist struck his chest.
Remy caught her wrist, but there was no violence in the gesture.
Mireille whispered, “They were our children.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t get to say that.”
Her voice broke.
“They weren’t soldiers. They weren’t members of your damned House playing your games of power. They were ours.”
Remy released her.
For the first time Mireille saw tears in his eyes.
“I begged Mneme.”
Mireille froze.
Remy had never begged anyone.
Not kings.
Not vampire lords.
Not priests threatening him with damnation.
No one.
“What did you say?”
“I offered her everything.”
His voice became almost inaudible.
“My House. My blood. My lands. Every vampire sworn to me.”
Mireille stared at him.
“And?”
“She told me none of those things mattered.”
Remy looked toward the flames.
“She said she wanted something I could never give willingly.”
“What?”
“My memory of them.”
Mireille’s expression changed.
Remy swallowed.
“She wanted me to live forever remembering that I caused their deaths.”
The fire cracked.
Neither spoke.
Then Mireille understood.
“That was the punishment.”
Remy nodded.
“Not killing them.”
“No.”
“Making us remember.”
“Yes.”
Mireille slowly sat down.
For centuries she had wondered why Mneme had spared them.
Now she understood.
Death would have been mercy.
Memory was the punishment.
Remy walked toward the window.
“That is why the gifts must never be allowed again.”
Mireille looked at him.
“What gifts?”
“Touch readers. Memory walkers. Blood readers. Anyone capable of reaching memories that should remain buried.”
Mireille’s eyes narrowed.
“Because of Mneme.”
“Because they are doors.”
Remy turned toward her.
“Every memory they touch creates a path. Every forgotten moment they recover strengthens the connection.”
“To Mneme?”
“To all Seven.”
Mireille felt cold despite the fire.
Remy continued.
“If someone carrying one of those gifts is Embraced, death no longer closes the door. Their blood becomes the vessel.”
“A conduit.”
“Yes.”
Mireille thought about their children.
She suddenly understood why Remy had become obsessed with controlling bloodlines. Why certain mortals had disappeared. Why some vampires had been forbidden from creating progeny.
“You’ve been killing them.”
“When necessary.”
“Remy—”
“I will not apologize.”
“They don’t know what they are!”
“Neither did our children.”
Mireille flinched.
Remy immediately regretted saying it.
But he didn’t take it back.
“That is precisely why I cannot take the chance.”
Mireille stood.
“You think prohibition will stop Mneme?”
“It has.”
“For how long?”
Remy didn’t answer.
“Five hundred years? Six hundred? A thousand?”
Mireille approached him.
“You still don’t understand her.”
“I understand her perfectly.”
“No. You understand fear.”
His expression darkened.
Mireille didn’t care.
“Mneme is memory, Remy. You cannot defeat memory by burying it.”
“I can stop people from reaching it.”
“Can you?”
“Yes.”
Mireille stepped closer.
“Then tell me something.”
He waited.
“Why can you still hear our children laughing?”
Remy’s expression changed.
Mireille touched his chest.
“Why can I still see them running through these halls?”
He said nothing.
“Why, after all these centuries, do you still dream about the night they died?”
“Enough.”
“Because Mneme already won.”
“Enough!”
The mansion trembled beneath the force of his voice.
Mireille didn’t move.
Remy stared at her.
Then she whispered the words he feared most.
“What the mind forgets, the blood remembers.”
Remy’s face drained of colour.
“Never say that.”
“Why?”
“Because those were her words.”
Mireille’s breath caught.
Remy stepped toward her.
“When I found our children, Mneme was waiting.”
Mireille could barely speak.
“You saw her?”
“I heard her.”
“What did she say?”
Remy’s eyes became distant.
“For every memory buried, another will someday uncover it.”
He looked at Mireille.
“And then she said those words.”
Mireille whispered them again.
“What the mind forgets…”
Remy finished reluctantly.
“…the blood remembers.”
The fireplace suddenly extinguished.
Darkness swallowed the chamber.
For several seconds neither moved.
Then somewhere deep inside the mansion came a sound that neither had heard for centuries.
The laughter of a child.
Mireille’s eyes widened.
“Remy?”
He stared into the darkness.
Another laugh echoed through the corridor.
Then another.
Their children.
Mireille stepped toward the doorway.
Remy grabbed her arm.
“Don’t.”
“But—”
“They’re dead.”
A child’s voice whispered from somewhere beyond the room.
Mother.
Mireille began to tremble.
Another voice followed.
Father.
Remy’s grip tightened.
And then a woman’s voice came from everywhere at once.
Ancient.
Soft.
Almost affectionate.
You remembered.
Remy’s face filled with terror.
“Mireille…”
The voice whispered again.
And because you remembered me…
The doors to the chamber slowly opened.
Beyond them was nothing but darkness.
…I remember you.
Another hand will touch what you buried.
Remy stared into the darkness.
“Who?”
A child’s laughter drifted through the corridor.
Then Mneme whispered:
She has not been born yet.
—–
Mireille uncloaked herself from the shadows. “You have seen, I knew that one day you would come and see the truth of what happened. I still loved Remy after all the years and all his betrayals to our family and our people. When my kids died I swore to bring Mneme to justice for what she had done. You were the one thing I couldn’t lose so I distanced myself.”
Astucia was in tears that vision impacted her so much but now the lady that she had loved and had been her mentor in her powers now was more than she ever thought. A wife, a mother and one of the top vampires who could enter Dreamscape.
“Listen to me, Astucia. Remy believed the danger was what you might remember. He was wrong.”
Astucia stared at her.
Mireille took her hands.
“The danger is what remembers you back.”
Astucia’s expression changed.
“Every time you touch the past, you believe you’re looking through a window.”
Mireille shook her head.
“You aren’t.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“You’re knocking on a door.”
Astucia swallowed.
“And Mneme is on the other side?”
Mireille’s eyes filled with an ancient fear.
“No, child.”
She squeezed Astucia’s hands.
“Mneme is the door.”
“You came all this way to find me. I have missed you Astucia. The time for secrecy is over and it’s time to prepare for War.”
Crazy Canadian Writing 