Moonlit Surrender

by Kitty Wilder

  “And we were having such a lovely time,” he sighed in mock dismay. “Now you’ve gone and hurt my feelings. Apologize.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Are you offering? Because it can easily be arranged to have you brought to my crypt tonight,” his low, silken voice whispered in her ear. “I know there’s something of an age difference, but then, I hear that doesn’t bother you.”

  She cringed at the thought of his long nails on her skin. “I’d rather die than touch a single inch of you!” she groaned in pain as she hunched further forward in a vain attempt to escape the strain threatening to rip her arm from its joint. He forced her upright and pulled her back against the soft velvet of his robes draped over his long, lithe body hidden beneath them, cold and unyielding. “You’re terrible at apologies. Perhaps a night in my icy dungeon will shock some manners back into you.”

  “You may as well just kill me and be done with your revenge, because I swear to you that you will never be my master. I will never obey you. I will not help you ensnare John. I will struggle and fight you with every breath I take!”

  Lerexus spun her around to face him, twisting her wrist to its limits to hold her in place. He leaned in close to her cheek. His eyes danced between pink and violet in the light of the torches, then closed reflectively as he inhaled deeply. “Your time will come, girl. Already your journey to the grave has begun. All it would take is one more deep drink to set you precariously on the fence between life and certain death.” His eyes fluttered back open and bored into hers. “Tempt me. Come on then, tell me more of what a rebel you really are. Insult me further. Really cut me with that sharp tongue of yours and give me a reason to hasten your demise. I’m so very thirsty.”

  Lucy recoiled with a shudder, straining so roughly in his grip that she heard her arm pop loudly. “Don’t,” she whispered fearfully despite herself.

  “I thought I may as well just kill you?” he mocked. “Isn’t that what you want? Maybe Johnathan should be welcomed by nothing but a corpse of the little plaything he cherished so dearly. Perhaps all I need is for him to think you’re here.”

  “No,” she whispered, twisting and dancing beneath his grip. “Please.”

  “There are those manners,” he snorted. “I knew all it would take is a little discomfort to motivate you.” He released her and watched her shrink back as she cradled her sore arm. “Now apologize for snubbing my generosity and we’ll get on with our night.”

  “I-I’m sorry,” she stuttered halfheartedly.

  “And who am I? ‘I’m sorry, what’?” he asked once more. “Well, spit it out, girl!”

  “N-no. Please. I can’t. Anything else.”

  No one but John. Never.

  “Say master. Your friend Doris does. Call me master again and I won’t send you to the dungeon with an empty belly.”

  “No! You are not my master!”

  Lerexus took a couple steps towards her and leaned in as if to share a secret. “Come on now, he’ll never know. Just between us, say it. Say it, and I’ll move you into the master suite upstairs. A big, comfy bed all for yourself, a massive hearth with a roaring fire that keeps even the farthest corners of the chamber warmed, a private bath, your own little palace to await your fate in. Why spend your remaining nights shivering in the undercroft, Lucy?”

  She had thus far never heard him say her name, or even acknowledge she had one, until now. It was as if she had only become a person to him when it suited his machinations. “Fuck your master suite,” she spat brazenly. “You and your ‘big comfy’ bed, your roaring hearth, and your private bath can all go straight to hell.”

  “Defiant chit,” he hissed. “So be it, but know it is you and you alone that is inflicting this agony on yourself, not I. You remember as you’re shivering down there that I generously offered my best to you in exchange for only a modicum of respect.” He snapped his fingers and Doris appeared in a blur behind him. “Take her to the dungeons. No dinner.”

  Doris nodded with a, “Yes, Master,” then grabbed Lucy by the arm and dragged her back down into the depths of the castle where she had first awoken.

  Lucy stumbled into the cell, tripping on an uneven flagstone, then jumped as the ancient iron bars slammed shut.

  “Stupid girl,” Doris hissed before leaving her alone in the cold dark of her prison.

  She carefully felt her way to the pallet in the corner with only the modest light of a stray moonbeam spilling in through the barred window to guide her. When her toes touched straw, she reached down and found the pathetic excuse for a bed and curled up on it. The blanket she had woken up with her first night in the castle was no longer there. She had nothing but the skirt of the plain dress to tuck her legs under while she collapsed in on herself and sobbed quietly into her knees.

  Chapter 20

  A blinding light seared through Lucy’s closed lids and for just a moment, she wondered if instead of a deep sleep she had slipped into death and whatever existence waited thereafter, but soon found it was only a stray sunbeam blazing through the tiny window of her cell, offering its warmth and illumination in the darkness of Castle Sheol’s dungeon. Though she was displeased to find herself waking in the same predicament she had fallen asleep in, the sun’s heat seemed to permeate her skin down to her heart and elevate her spirits, if only marginally. She sat up and stretched the kink out of her neck and rubbed her shoulder where the straw had flattened and left her at the mercy of the rock beneath her.

  I need to get out of here.

  Lucy hugged her knees to her chest as she had the night before, though this time it was fear that made her feel small.

  Vampires sleep during the day. Maybe the guard is only there at night. If I can just get out of this goddamn cell.

  She sat deep in thought, positive there had to be a way out she just wasn’t seeing yet, her mind clouded by fear and exhaustion. With only the sound of her pounding heart and the lake lapping at the castle’s foundations well below her tiny, barred window, she sat in quiet contemplation of her predicament. As she waited in the stillness of the sleeping castle, she could hear a soft thud hitting below the din of the waves: something being rocked by the lake’s water.

  Thud-thud-thud

  Lucy growled in frustration, unable to think with the clatter of whatever it was down below. In misplaced fury, she rose to her feet and stomped over to the window, lifting herself up by the bars to peek over its ledge. In the light of day, she saw a breathtaking scape of rolling hills covered in a lush forest of dancing emeralds and deepest green. A choppy lake stretched wide and curved beyond her view behind the proud trees lining its banks so it seemed without end. Above the tall treetops stretched a clear blue sky without a cloud in sight, its breathtaking color casting twinkling sapphires in the lake’s restless waters below. It was as her eye followed the waves carrying their glittering blue to crash against the dark rock of Castle Sheol that she saw the source of the incessant thudding. It was an old, but still afloat, rowboat tied to a rickety pier winding its way out of a cave in the foundation.

  She considered this as an alternate exit for a moment, but still fell back down on her meager mat in defeat. Even if she could find whatever hidden staircase led to the boat, she couldn’t ensure it was unguarded, and even if it were so, she was still securely locked in a cell. It became clear if she was going to make any kind of attempt at escape, first she would have to get out of this dungeon cell.

  She closed her eyes and stretched out in the warmth of the sunbeam still spilling over her bed and, despite herself, dozed right back off, overcome by the fatigue ever growing in her drained, and now starved, body.

  “The master says you’re to eat now, to rebuild your strength,” Doris’ harsh voice startled Lucy awake.

  Lucy rubbed her eyes, opening them to the dim light of the candle the woman had set down outside the cell door. The flickering flame danced menacing shadows beneath her stark white face now painted up in dark makeup.

  “I hope you don�
��t mind, I helped myself to your toiletries before we left,” she remarked in a show of fake remorse.

  Lucy snorted with a weak giggle, “What, you’re a vampire now so you have to wear black eyeshadow? That’s a little cliché, don’t you think?”

  “You’re one to talk,” she spat derisively. “A ‘gothic princess’ to John, and Lerexus would make you queen of the Underworld if you’d just show an ounce of gratitude.”

  “What does that mean?” She perked up curiously. “Queen of the Underworld?”

  Doris waved her hand dismissively. “All I’m saying is maybe the wardrobe has some sort of appeal to the undead male. May as well dress the part.”

  “Being a vampire doesn’t make you an entirely different person. Being me won’t make you feel like yourself. I don’t wear black in the hopes of becoming a vampire,” she laughed. “It’s just a fashion preference, not a ‘part’.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Does this act really work on them? The doe eyes and the effortlessly-dark-and-mysterious bit? Yes, I’m sure you just wake up looking like an Addams. You’re not trying at all.” Sarcasm dripped off her every word. “Admit it. You wanted to attract a certain type. Fashion isn’t individuality. It’s bait.”

  “Some people just wear what they like, Doris. It’s not a game. Is that why you wanted this? You traded your humanity to try to find a new identity?” she asked in disbelief. “There are far easier ways to go about it, with far less at stake.”

  “Don’t presume to know me,” she hissed defensively and straightened her posture.

  “It doesn’t make you better. It just makes you you forever.” Lucy felt her heart sink for the lanky, awkward woman. Whatever it was she had been seeking in becoming a vampire, clearly hadn’t happened, and now she was desperately trying to compensate and justify the experience to herself. “Lerexus,” she muttered to herself after a moment. “Are you actually attracted to that villain? Is that what the clothes and makeup are about?”

  She didn’t answer, only slid the tray of food under the iron rods to the girl.

  Lucy looked at the flavorless, yet nutritious plate of food, similar to her last meal. Though her appetite wasn’t exactly piqued, she could feel her stomach churning ravenously and the fatigue that wouldn’t leave her, seeping ever deeper.

  “And why shouldn’t I be attracted? He is beautiful, in his own way,” Doris suddenly defended herself, still lingering between the sphere of light and the shadows. “He is wondrous, ancient, powerful. You should hear his sermons. They are electrifying. He speaks the truth. Whatever gods once were are long since dead, the only trace of their greatness left in the vampire. If anything in this world deserves worship, it is he. Us.”

  “You sound brainwashed.”

  “Ha! That’s rich coming from Johnathan’s little disciple.” She took two steps forward so she stood fully lit in the glow of the candle dancing at her feet. “They are magnetic, seductive, so easy to bow down to. Maybe Lerexus holds no appeal to you, but that’s only because you already serve a vampire god.”

  Lucy swallowed the last of her meal. “I don’t worship a god, just a man. I love John. I’m not his disciple. And he didn’t pick me because of the way I dress.”

  “No, it wasn’t that, was it? He smelled your weakness. The daddy issues wrapped in fishnets was just what he was looking for.”

  “Spiteful bitch.”

  Did I say that out loud? Shit. Fuck, I’m so tired.

  Doris flew to the bars of the cell and hissed fiercely at her.

  “Why do you even give a shit about either of them anymore? You’re a vampire yourself now. Go steal my closet and cast the rest of the mortal world under your own spell if vampires are so damn magnetic.”

  “They shouldn’t give a shit about you.” She sounded like an infuriated child and looked moments away from stamping her foot. “You’re the mortal, just a nobody that will be gone and forgotten before the end of all this.”

  Lucy felt suddenly exhausted by the conversation alone, never mind the ache she could feel deep in her body or the urge to crawl into a proper bed and sleep for a year. “Maybe a vampire cult leader is just a charismatic mortal given fangs. Maybe the seductive creature of the night is just a confident professor who knows what he wants and has to drink blood occasionally. And maybe a selfish, spiteful person given those fangs is still just a selfish, spiteful vampire, as unremarkable in undeath as she was in life. Stop punishing me for your failure to get a personality.”

  Doris pressed her face to the bars, her jaw tight and her eyes narrowed as they glared reflectively in the dark.

  “What’s the matter, Doris? Afraid to break your master’s rules? Who’s the mindless one now?” Lucy goaded.

  She took in a deep breath, then stepped back from the prison cell and receded into the darkness beyond. “Lerexus’ goals are above our petty squabbles. He’s going to bring order to the chaos and show humans exactly where they belong in the pecking order. You’re nothing, just some silly little girl who got taken in by her professor, falling for stories about how special she was so he could manipulate and use her. You’re prey, Lucy. You’ll always be prey when you let men like him treat you like that. Your only appeal is how easily usable you are. That’s all Lerexus sees in you. That’s all John ever saw. He’s probably not even coming.” Her voice faded down the halls, echoing eerily. “You’re not worth the trouble.”

  Lucy’s chin quivered, the woman’s words striking deeper than perhaps either of them had anticipated.

  John had avoided Lerexus for centuries. He was clearly smart enough to see a trap laid before him. He had probably guessed it long before Lucy had been taken in, and here she was worried about his existence. Whatever the truth was about the nature of their relationship, she knew he was too intelligent to charge blindly into whatever plot his sire had stitched together. Her energy would best be aimed towards her own survival and escape.

  She shuddered as she realized there was a real chance he was, in fact, not coming.

  She shrank back onto her pile of straw. The wool of the cloth thrown over it itched her thighs and she could feel a few pieces of straw poking through into her flesh. She couldn’t stop the words from entering her tired mind. She couldn’t unsee the twisted, fun-house mirror image Doris had left her with. Every moment with John was suddenly tainted, darker, crueler. She had shown a glimpse of her vulnerability just by falling asleep in his class from overworking herself, her apron still tied on from the shift she had barely gotten away from to tend to the very thing she was working so hard to afford. The way he looked at her wasn’t fascination or adoration, but cool calculation, an invasive and violating perception. His invitation to his apartment had been a trap, his loneliness a ruse, bait to lure her in. Every word, every touch, every moment together was suddenly a sickening lie, every tender moment suddenly destroyed by a string of fallacies. She cringed and felt bile rise in her throat. More than anything, she felt embarrassment at the intimacy she had shared with this monster that had only wanted a mortal under his thumb, to satisfy all his wicked and unnatural cravings.

  Ordered around in his bedroom while he watched.

  Forced to wait until my knees turned purple with bruises.

  Punished for texting Ben in class, for giving my attention to anyone other than him.

  Manipulated so he could feel powerful. Baited so he’d never have to hunt or pay for another meal.

  Used.

  Lucy felt a very real pain in her chest where her heart was breaking. Was it possible to have been so blind? Could she really have been so stupid? Was it possible that she had been so desperate to escape the mundane of her relationship with Ben that she had stumbled into real danger, lying to herself the whole time that it was something more? She squeezed her eyes tightly closed to stop the torrent of tears just moments away from bursting forth. Her mind raced through every moment with him, searching for truth.

  She returned to those moments, looking at the nights she had spent with him, a
nd watched the fun-house mirror shatter and saw what she had felt was there all along.

  John wasn’t the monster in her tale. Not once had he forced something on her she had not already proven willing to accept. Whatever games they had played, he had always been sure she was a willing participant and had taken the time afterwards to help her back onto her own two feet before sending her off for the night. Whatever control he had over her was because she gave it to him. Whatever commands he gave her were given for her own pleasure sure to come from following them. Lucy opened her eyes, no trace of tears left as she stared in wonder at the stone walls around her with the startling revelation that, in a way, everything John had done was for her, though the surface seemed quite contrary. His control over her had only escalated to the next level because it was where she wanted it to go. His leadership was a service. His rules were her desire. It was evident now in the way he tended her once their games had reached their climax he was no tyrant, but a caregiver.

  “Doris, you idiot,” she laughed to herself now. “She can’t understand, because all she sees is the surface, not the service.” Lucy found she couldn’t stop laughing, not out of cruelty for Doris’ lack of sight, but sheer relief. “I’m not crazy! I’m not crazy,” she whispered to herself with a sigh.

  It was real. That means he’s coming. He’s searching and following whatever trail of breadcrumbs Lerexus left, and he’ll fall into his trap. For you.

  Survive. Get out.

  The pier.

  She rose up onto wobbly knees, sure now it was the blood loss weakening her. Hopefully, her captor had others in his fortress to keep his belly full and his fangs away from her for the remainder of her stay in this godforsaken place. She lifted herself up onto the tips of her toes to peer over the stone ledge of her barred window and saw the rowboat still rocking idly with the waves trying to carry it away and then forcing it back into the pier it was tied to.