Hunger

by Lillie J. Roberts

  *

  When I awoke to the next evening’s dusk, the stranger was gone. I cautiously stretched my arms and legs to find health returning. The pox had healed, my cracked lips felt supple, yet I was still too weak to sit up. Then I thought of the man’s blood dripping into my open mouth and wondered if it had been a dream. Did I really drink his blood? The image persisted when there was a rustling of leaves on the path to our village. The odd stranger stood before me, silent as death, bolder than life.

  “Are you better this evening, boy? Well enough to tell me your name?” He smiled down at me, the tips of his canines peeking below his upper lip. Pink stuff clung to one, and his tongue deftly flicked out to capture the droplet.

  “Ben, sir, Benedict Wisegood. Milord, what is it you wish to be called?”

  “Lucius Draco.” He scrutinized me. “Young Benedict, if we are going to travel together, it would be safer and wiser if you were known as my son. I can offer protection, but it has to be your choice. What do you say?”

  Realizing there really wasn’t any alternative, I agreed. A boy alone in the countryside was asking for trouble. Lucius Draco remained a mystery. I still didn’t know what he was, except he was my savior. I owed him my life, a blood debt I was happy to fulfill.

  “With tomorrow’s evening, we have to leave this place. The scent of death is heavy in the air. It will draw others.” He gazed over his shoulder, as if trying to see what wasn’t there … like he watched for something, someone. He sniffed the air.

  “Loupgarin,” I thought I heard him whisper though I had no understanding of the word. This man, who appeared stronger than all others, also feared. The one piece of wisdom passed to me was no man was without fear, only the foolish man thought himself fearless. I wondered at my savior, but he was also my only chance for life, as far as he would have me. His way and word were good with me.

  In the next moment, his waiting glance captured mine.

  “Yes, milord.” Leaving my home would be difficult, but the stench of the decaying bodies penetrating the air left little choice. “Milord, if I may ask one thing before we leave?” I was going to have to ask another to perform a duty that was mine alone.

  “And that would be?” He peered at me with his black stare.

  The village was my birthplace, hard to abandon, but desecrating it … so much harder. “My family is amongst those dead, sir.” Swallowing, I closed my eyes. “Please, sir, put them to rest, set the village ablaze.” Life in the time of the Black Death brought harsh lessons to the young. I couldn’t leave the dead unattended for scavengers.

  Before the dawn broke across the starless nighttime sky, Lucius leaned in and offered his pierced wrist, then commanded slumber. My thoughts drifted into a dreamless sleep, one where my parents and sisters didn’t invade.

  When I awoke again, the acrid scent of smoke encompassed the forest. The village was no more. He had moved us while I’d slept to outside the mouth of a small cave. A young rabbit spit over burning coals.

  “At nightfall tomorrow, we start our journey away from here. Eat, Ben. You’ll need your strength.” He pushed the rabbit to me.

  The smell of the roasting animal roiled my stomach, but I found I wanted to survive, and the meal would make me stronger. Walking through the forest was difficult on healthy legs, but mine felt lame and wobbly. There wasn’t much choice other than to relax into my pine needle bed and wait for Lucius to decide which path to follow because, if nothing else, he was my destiny, my family, and my father if by nothing but actions alone.

  Chapter Two

  Following Lucius brought a peace I’d never known. Over time, he told me of his long life, how he came to be, and what he was. Loupgarin, his maker, was an ancient, cruel vampire who planned to build an army, turning those he held as slaves.

  Loupgarin, the name he’d whispered the day he’d healed me. Loupgarin owned part of his soul, one he dreaded. Now, I understood.

  Lucius claimed Loupgarin was an original vampire, created by the Earth Mother to keep her Fae and Mankind from fighting over the night. Vampires were born to become the masters of the darkness and, like all hunters of the night, their senses were enhanced, their strength increased. The night became forbidding, frightening to others as vampires came to life with a parasitic plight. Their only downfall was the sun. It became the enemy, bringing burning pain and death with no re-awakening.

  Amazed by his story, I asked, “How did you become free from such a cruel master, milord?”

  He leaned close and whispered, “Ben, I’m going to tell you a secret. One the Vampire Hierarchy likes to keep to itself. In the wrong hands, it could disable my race, leaving us vulnerable to mortals.”

  “Your secret is safe with me. I owe you more than my life.”

  “There is a root called valerian. It incapacitates the vampire and brings madness to the mind. My master used it to torture his enemies. I managed to steal enough to poison the blood cows he kept on hand.”

  “Blood cows?” I asked.

  “The blood slaves he kept for himself.” Lucius’s face showed his disgust. “The human chattel used to feed his needs.” He steepled his fingers over his patrician nose. “It has no ill effects on humans, odorless and tasteless, but if ingested by the vampire, it takes away reasoning and weakens the body. It’s a cruel torment to the vampire’s logical mind. Valerian leaves only doubt.”

  He shook his head. “Loupgarin was killing us. Every day fewer were left. Those who were, slipped away while he suffered the poison’s effects. Valerian is a cruel master as well.” He grimaced. “Loupgarin promised to rip out my heart should our paths cross again. I’ve taken him at his word. His sanity was questionable then. The valerian took away more, but it was my only chance.” He thought for a moment. “Our only chance, for my brothers and sisters too.”

  “Why would he kill his younglings, milord? Wouldn’t it weaken him more?” I wondered out loud.

  “We’d failed him. There was a battle between our clan and that of his greatest rival, Rafael. Defeat did not sit well with him.” Lucius’s eyes closed as he relived a few moments of the horrors in his life. “He swore vengeance for our weakness, promising to enslave younger, stronger, better children than us. Valerian or death, it was our only escape.”

  My life had been hard before the vampire found me, but at least I’d known my mother’s love. Lucius spent years in the service of his master, being a blood slave and worse. For that, I did not envy him.

  My eyes must have shown my fear, because in the next breath, he reassured me. “Not to worry, Ben, he is the past, not the future.” He clapped my shoulder. “Come, let us live. We have much to see and experience.”

  *

  With the help of Lucius’s vampire blood, my aging slowed. In fifty years, my body remained youthful, my face unlined, the starvation and the abuses of my childhood forgotten. The name Loupgarin no longer worried my father, though at times, he seemed to look for what wasn’t there, as if catching an odor born on the air.

  By the time I reached manhood, I was strong and taught by the best minds in Europe. It was nearly impossible to believe I was a former child of the Black Death, rarely thinking of the time prior to my journeys with Lucius. He was prosperous. I wanted for little and lived life to the fullest. It was at this time the unthinkable happened.

  By appearances, I was twenty-five, urbane, and seemingly impervious to the diseases of man. Consumption of vampire blood early in my life seemed to affect not only my aging but my natural immunity as well. Fearing little, I took unnecessary risks, boisterously full of myself, not realizing my mistake. I thought myself as invulnerable from death as I was from disease. My adopted father indulged me, letting his only son share in everything life offered. He tried to protect me from myself, but he was doomed for failure.

  Summer evenings were my favorites. I found the warm nights bewitching as I roamed through the noisy streets of Paris, London, Rome, or wherever Lucius’s travels took us. On one such summer night, I wa
ndered into a local brothel. For three days and nights it claimed my attention. First with the lovely Juliet, next in the arms of the farmer’s daughter Emiline, but the third was the most wondrous yet. I made my way around the room to find a particularly beautiful courtesan with beguiling sapphire eyes.

  Giselle. She captivated more than my senses. Her lavender scent wreaked havoc with my body, my manhood springing to life. My trousers just able to contain its hardness. Her pink lace gown tested in its ability to conceal her trembling breasts.

  “Mademoiselle.” I bowed low over her hand, my lips brushing her quivering flesh. “I would be most honored to have the pleasure of your company.” My stare locked onto hers.

  Her blue-vein eyelids fluttered, and she dipped her head, whispering, “Your lovemaking is legend, Monsieur.” Her own eyes found those of Juliet’s and the two shared a secret smile. “It would be my pleasure.” She placed her hand on my arm, nodding to the mistress as we made our way to the stairs.

  Once inside her room, my hands moved over her body, bringing exquisite pleasure. Her pink gown now puddled on the floor. Her corset fell open to reveal soft mounds. My lips begged to take her sweet peaks between them, suckling them until they turned a ruddy red. A groan of delight broke from her lips as her fingers found the buttons of my breeches.

  My cock broke free of the enclosure, large and throbbing. Already glistening droplets clung to its tip. “Benedict…” Giselle’s eyes grew in size, and her fingers flew over her lacings, freeing her from the volumes of petticoats. They joined the growing pool of clothing on the floor.

  “By the Gods in the heavens, your body is glorious.” I eased her back into the pillows, taking her nipples between my lips causing her to writhe with unrelenting need. Her curvaceous body was made for a man’s attentions, and I was determined to have all of her.

  Panting, she sat up, pressing me down into her place. Her sapphire eyes glowed. “Ben …” she breathed as she leaned down, capturing my mouth. Her tongue danced with mine, and her fingers worked themselves lower until they wrapped around my length, stroking me.

  “By the Gods, Giselle.” I could stand no more, pulling her closer. The tip of my cock rested against her soft opening.

  “Please, Ben,” she begged, and I entered her lush center. She took me deep, riding my body as my mouth closed on her nipples, first one and then the other, nipping and tugging until she screamed for relief.

  Driven mad with my own needs, I pulled out of her, pushing her beneath my body, nudging her thighs wide to fill her once again. I brought her to the edge of passion, only to fall over that edge, both of us crashing into the waves of pleasure.

  We lie together, letting our bodies calm before she turned and picked up her dressing gown. “I would not mind at all if you called upon me again, Monsieur.” She headed behind a fabric screen, the sounds of splashing water to be heard. She came around to sit down before her mirror, face flushed from our lovemaking, and powdered her breasts.

  “I don’t believe I said I was finished with you for the night,” was my response.

  She giggled an engaging tinkle, and her eyes sparked. “I am all yours for the taking.”

  But the lady was also a favorite of Lord Randall, a jealous nobleman hell-bent on having her for himself. It wasn’t until he found me I understood the folly of my mistake. The man was possessed— insanity glowed in the depths of his maniacal eyes. How he knew of my conquest, of my choice, I’ll never know.

  “Master Draco!” My name rang out as the door slammed into the wall, and I fumbled into my trousers. Turning toward the man with the courtesan at my back, I met the barrel of the man’s wavering gun pointed at my chest. “You will unhand the mademoiselle at once!”

  “Lord Randall.” My gaze was immediately drawn to the weapon held in his shaking hand. “I assure you, sir, no insult was intended.” I searched the room for my own pistol, only to locate it on the other side of the bed.

  Holding up a hand to pacify the distraught lover, I pushed the lady down next to the rumpled quilts.

  “Reggie!” Giselle looked around my legs. “Reggie, what are you doing?”

  “Saving your honor.” But that brought a laugh to her lips.

  “Lord Randall, I may be your favorite, but you do not own my flesh, nor my heart.”

  I twisted around to my lover, my stare demanding. “Be quiet and stay put. No need to antagonize him further.” I scowled into her lovely sapphire eyes.

  Randall roared as if in pain. He pounded the heel of his hand against his forehead. “No one shall touch your flesh!” The quavering gun took aim. “No one,” he said with the calmness of a man consigned to death.

  “Lord Randall, had I known she was yours …” I judged the distance to my pistol.

  “Shut up!” he screamed in the now claustrophobic room.

  “Lord Randall,” I started again, cautiously taking a step to the side. At the last moment, I dove across the bed, gripping the pistol firmly in my hands. I took aim and fired, but not quick enough.

  Lucius and I shared a special bond after the drinking of his blood, and I frantically sent out a call as Randall brought his own pistol to life. My consciousness reached Lucius’s as the muzzle blazed red and black powder smoked. The combined blasts were deafening, shaking bits of plaster from the ceiling and knocking small objects from the shelves. As the leaden ball entered my chest, I felt Lucius’s cry of outrage and pain. “Father,” I called in my thoughts and with a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

  Lord Randall slumped to the ground, a hole puncturing his forehead. My aim had been true, but so had his. A small patch of crimson blossomed across my ribcage, flowering like a red rose bursting into full bloom. But it grew, covering the entirety of my chest. My legs faltered and gave away. I fell to my knees as screams greeted me. Life narrowed down to a slim tunnel, and time ticked into minutes, then seconds, almost coming to a complete standstill.

  There was little pain, either thanks to the vampire blood or nature’s way of protecting the human mind from itself. My young conquest sank down beside me, my hand pressed to her full breast I had so lovingly gazed upon moments before.

  Once more, death waited to take me and this time, not even Lucius could save me. I felt his mind pushing through the hazy fog clouding mine even as my consciousness began to ebb. His preternatural speed brought him closer, and when again I opened my eyes, it was to find him kneeling next to me. Giselle or the body of Lord Randall nowhere to be found.

  “Ben, my son, you are dying.” Bitter tears fell in crimson streaks. “I can save you, but you know the price. There is too much damage for the simple taking of my blood, too much to repair and so little life remains within your body. Would it be so, I would have already forced it upon you.” In that split second, I felt his hopelessness as his thoughts drifted back, not really seeing this place any longer. He remembered the time when it was he who had taken the blood exchange and not by choice, but by force.

  He vowed to never do to another what had been done to him. But I wasn’t just some human, I was the only son he would ever have, and it was going to tear his soul apart to let me go. To lose a loved one to old age or disease was inevitable, but a senseless death brought by the violence of man?

  I knew what lay before me. It was my decision whether or not to follow in my father’s footsteps. Vampires live for a very long time. Lucius had been reborn nearly three centuries before he came across me desperate for salvation.

  “Father,” I whispered, “will I live long enough to leave this place?”

  His strong arms embraced me. Only the speed of the vampire could move so quickly and efficiently, that in a matter of moments, we arrived at our apartments. He kicked in the door to my suite, rushing to the lounge, and gently laying me down. What little strength I had preserved waned, my vision dimmed. I clutched his hand. Death was coming for me one way or the other, and I nodded.

  He sighed with his own acceptance, tears standing in his eyes, and he allowed only two words to
leave his lips before taking the remnants of my human life. “Forgive me.”

  Thus, it was the beginning of my new life as the vampire, born of death and blood.

  Chapter Three

  Some may think of vampirism as a curse, but it saved my life once and allowed for my rebirth. Watching the way Lucius chose to live afforded me knowledge most younglings lacked. For this, I was grateful.

  As a newborn vampire, it was hard to control the bloodlust, and mistakes were easy to make. But when accidents happened, Lucius helped guide my hand to conceal our existence. Above all else, autonomy must be maintained. For the youngling unable to learn self-control, the Vampire Hierarchy meted out justice accordingly with swift and precise violence. Vampires, no matter what humans believe, are not immune to death, unforgiving and endless.

  My human life had, for the most part, already adjusted to the lifestyle of the vampire. My sleeping patterns accommodated Lucius’s years ago. At first, I missed the sun’s warm rays, but if I couldn’t have the sunshine at least I still had the starlight and moonglow. As I came to accept my new existence, the night became more alive, more vibrant. If there was a heartbeat within a thousand yards, I could hear it. The coppery scent of blood invaded my nose, coating my tongue with its rich flavor.

  Have I ever regretted my decision to become vampire? Who doesn’t question the direction of their life? At times I lived with regret, not only for becoming what I was, but for when I lost my head. Some say vampires are beyond human emotion, but I know this to be untrue. Upon becoming vampire, a new aloofness occurs. Some see it as a heartlessness, but in reality it is the survival mechanism of the predator. Without it, madness would ensue, our emotions as heightened as our other senses.