Damien splashed some liquid on his face. “So that's what it comes to? Now it disfigures me as well.”
A rustling came from the bushes a few yards from Damien. His eyes saw nothing, but his ears heard the sound of a heart pumping fresh blood. It was small, no bigger than a dog. The rhythm was heavy, fast paced. It was a wild pig searching for grubs. Damien approached it silently. It seemed all too easy to sneak up on the animal. His own heart was still. He was ready to strike. Damien threw his right hand down towards the head, it crushed upon impact. The pig immediately hit the ground with a sharp puff to the ground. He had killed it with his bare hand in one strike.
Damien picked the pig up, instinctively biting into its neck. Blood flowed into his mouth with pleasure. It was warm, filling his stomach perfectly. After it was drained, Damien was full. He knew he didn't have to consume human blood to satisfy his needs. His worry was gone. Damien had found a way to sustain himself that the stories didn't mention.
Thirty years came and went as Damien found his new place in the world. He wandered from town to town as a nomadic preacher of the night, telling of the consequences of sin. He was first and foremost a priest, even if he was a monster. He viewed his curse as a tool to spread the word of god indefinitely. He vowed not to kill another human being for food. He was perfectly happy with wild animals and street vermin.
During his searching, Damien found many references to vampires in several monasteries across the regions he explored. To acquire this information, he learned French, Spanish, Italian, and Russian in addition to his native German. He had become quite the linguist in his travels. Damien found that vampires were supposed to have a gift that set them apart from others. A unique weapon that only they were able to wield. There was only one problem, in his thirty years as a vampire, he had obtained no such gift. There was nothing special about him other than the fact he had become a vampire. Never-the-less, he was intrigued by the idea. He figured that if he was able to gather other vampires that held the same disposition as he did, he could form an organization to spread religion and good will through the world. He liked the concept, but needed to encounter another vampire to prove that it could work. Unfortunately, Damien had discovered a paucity of vampires in the flesh.
Damien found himself on the outer edge of Russia. The bitter cold wasn't painful to him, it felt warm, tingling. Somehow the sting of the dry snow building on his body gave a certain sense of pain that resembled heat.
Damien walked into a bar that was covered with snow. With ice in his hair, Damien stepped in. “I'll have some wine.” He said in Russian as he sat on a stool at the front counter.
The men in the room stared at Damien, scrutinizing his every action. The ice began to melt, leaving water cascading down his worn black robes. They continued to stare. These were shady men, the type that anyone would want to avoid in a dark alley. Damien chuckled to himself as he noticed the men sizing him up. He was now the subject of terror in the dark. He smiled after turning away from them. He prayed to himself that they followed him out of the bar so that he could teach them a lesson in abusing others. A way of teaching that Damien had come to enjoy.
The rest of the bar had mixed company. Most of the men were average height of more thicker builds than Damien was used to seeing. There were a few women drinking in the corner, a group of men playing drinking games in the middle of the room, and everyone seemed put off by Damien.
The barkeep looked at Damien with a questioning face. “Your voice, your accent, it's different. You are not from here.” The man's scruffy brown beard matched his disarrayed medium hair. His face was short, he was a strong, stout man.
“No, I'm sorry. I'm not.” Damien answered. “Now how about that wine?”
“No friend, I'm sorry. You misunderstand. We serve vodka here, not wine.” The barkeep informed Damien as he cleaned a glass with a seemly dirty rag.
“Fine. Vodka then.” Damien did a once over around the room. Everyone was now looking at him.
Damien was the only one not in thick winter clothing. He had the same priest's robes he was buried in thirty years ago. He was sentimental and didn't want to lose his personal connection to what made him a man.
“What?” Damien asked the barkeep.
“They're staring at your clothing. This is one of our coldest winters. You don't seem to have a coat. They all wonder why. You came in here with nothing more than your robes and shoes. You don't appear cold. Where did you say you were from?” The barkeep asked.
“Sorry, I was just mugged for my coat outside.” Damien had learned to be quick at explaining things.
The barkeep began to pour a glass for Damien. He stopped mid glass. “You still have your money?”
“Sure, all he got was my coat. He'll probably find out when he gets it home. He'll find the pockets were already empty.” Damien laughed.
The barkeep tried to chuckle. Damien's laugh was not natural. It sounded gruff, too deep to come from him. It disturbed the entire bar.
“Fine, I will pour you vodka.” The barkeep filled a shot glass. “Drink.” The barkeep set another glass for himself. “To thieves!”
“To thieves!” Damien cheered.
A man stepped through the wooden entrance. He was tall, about six foot three inches. He was thin, in his mid to late thirties, with short blond hair and blue eyes. He wore thick fur boots, tan hide pants, a woolen shirt with a red and white fox pelt around his shoulders.
“Bartender! A round of vodka for everyone!” The new young Russian man announced to everyone. He was very insouciant.
“Yugo! You're back! How was the journey? And what the hell do you have to celebrate?” The barkeep was very familiar with this young man.
“Life, old man! I've come back alive.” Yugo spilled open a coin purse of money onto the bar top. “And I made a handsome profit too! Now I think that is plenty of grounds to celebrate.” Yugo leaned in to hug the barkeep. “Besides it's my thirty sixth birthday today.”
The barkeep patted Yugo on the back. “Then yours is on me, Yugo! Happy birthday!”
A waitress brought around shots of vodka to everyone in the bar. Damien welcomed his second glass. It was warming on his naturally cold throat. He understood the principal of fitting in when introducing himself to a new community. Damien didn't want to attract suspicion, especially in this harsh environment. There were few wild animals here, and few vermin that could stand the frigid winter. Outside of directly attacking a bear, Damien didn't have much of an option but to make friends with some local hunters. Learning from them would give him a suitable cover image and let him pass on through without anyone asking too many questions about why he would be covered in animal blood most nights to come. Damien's eyes had not changed much since becoming a vampire. They were still brown, but had lightened, turning partially translucent. It was such a small alteration that Damien didn't notice it himself for years. It was yet another trait he had to hide when meeting new people.
“I got my caravan through the pass with all of it intact. It took so little time to get there, they actually gave me a bonus! A bonus! My first successful delivery as a traveling merchant and they gave me more than we had negotiated!” Yugo was very happy with his progress in life.
Damien smiled and raised his glass. “Well thank you kind young man.” Damien's low voice sent shivers down Yugo's back.
“You're welcome, old stranger.” Yugo was being polite. Damien unnerved him. He could see that the color of Damien's eyes were unreal, there was something wrong about him.
“You wouldn't happen to be heading east would you?” Damien asked.
Yugo thought about his answer carefully. His next destination was east. He wanted to be friendly, at the same time, Damien didn't seem to give off a pleasant vibration. Reluctantly, Yugo replied. “Yes, I'm going that way later tonight.”
“Would you mind a companion?” Damien was imposing and he knew it. The situation was just too good to let it get away.
Yugo was young and ine
xperienced as a merchant. It was an opportunity for him as well. “A paying companion, yes. A freeloader, no.”
Damien smiled. “Of course.” He raised his shot towards Yugo.
Yugo raised his glass in turn. “To mutual gain!” Yugo cheered.
Everyone in the room shot back their vodka. Yugo smiled. His display of ebullience was attracting attention.
After a few hours in the bar, Yugo approached Damien. “Shall we go?” Yugo was functionally drunk.
Damien was not. “Sure.”
Damien helped Yugo out of the bar. A few moments later he spotted five shady men from the bar. They were following Yugo. Waiting for a moment to assault him and take the money he gloated about earlier.
“What's your name?” Yugo asked Damien as he slumped into his shoulder, his words nearly too drunk to be understood.
“Damien Attolauss.” Damien told Yugo.
Yugo had great levity when speaking to Damien. “At-ta-house?” Yugo was clearly too drunk to steer his horses. If they were leaving that night, Damien was going to drive.
The weather had lightened, the trails were visible. Yugo gestured in the direction of his carriage. After a half a mile, Damien could still see the five men.
“Yugo, what's your last name?” Damien attempted to distract Yugo from the men getting closer. He hoped the conversation might cause him to fall asleep, giving Damien the moment he would need to fully defend against the assailants.
“Yugo Demetrius.” Yugo lifted his hand in the air and stated as he promptly fell over.
“Thank you Yugo. Not everyone can accept an invitation from a monster.” Damien set Yugo down by a mound of snow. “I'll return the kindness.”
Damien walked onto the main road, standing, waiting for the five men to come. He was the essence of equanimity. They wasted no time in identifying themselves as hooligans. Two of the men reached for knives, one for metal knuckles, the last two for a chain, and a pipe respectively. They came up to Damien with every intention of beating anything he had out of him.
“Give it up.” The one with the metal knuckles said. His tattered thick brown clothing was stained with smatterings of blood from multiple assaults.
Damien refused to answer. Deciding to wait for their first move instead. He was thinking of how to hurt them without killing them. The exact way in which he was going to make them learn what they were doing was wrong.
“Okay, fine by us.” The grumbling man with the metal knuckles said as he began to swing at Damien.
Damien let the man break his hand on his face. The metal knuckles cracked and fell to the ground. Damien didn't need to move. They were no threat to him at all. The leader of the group nodded to one of the men with a knife.
“You sure you want to try that?” Damien asked the knife wielding thug.
The man jabbed at Damien with his blade. Damien only needed to raise his hand and close it around the weapon. It bent and crumbled in the man's palm. There was no blood.
“What are you?” The man with the knife was shocked. He stepped back and quickly ran away. He was far smarter than the rest of the group.
The man with the chain swung at Damien, easily tying him up in a rope of thick iron rings. The thug with the pipe followed by striking at Damien's head.
The pipe bent instantly over Damien's skull. No mess, no pain, no blood.
“Is that all you've got?” Damien was toying with them now. The immense strength he had gathered from his thirty years as a vampire had made him invulnerable to these types of attacks. It was almost humorous to him.
“Hey, I least got him! He ain't no freak.” About fifteen feet away the other man with a knife called back to the leader of the group. He was the dumber one.
The fifth man had walked over to Yugo in the commotion while Damien was thinking of what to do to punish them. He had stabbed Yugo in the chest several times, managing to pick his pocket before blood spilled over it.
Damien flew into a rage.
Damien tore the man's head from his body and severed the hand holding Yugo's money. The coin purse landed in the snow with a red puddle next to Yugo's left leg. Damien used the chain to beat the others to formless pulp within seconds. Eventually the iron chain gave way and broke from the concussive blows. Three men were emulsified, one decapitated.
The only one of the gang to survive was the one thug that had run away before Yugo was stabbed. Damien wasn't pleased with himself. He didn't enjoy the concept of killing. This was different. This was an execution, fueled more by revenge and rage than the pursuit of blood. It was what Damien told himself as he drained two of the men before seeing to Yugo's injuries.
In Damien's travels, he had studied a great deal about vampires. Their abilities, powers, weaknesses, and methods of reproduction. Damien knew much of how the exchange of blood from the vampire was able to change the living into the undead. Although it was never written down, he himself was proof that the recently deceased were able to be revived in this same way.
Before Damien, there was an opportunity. He remembered the concept of building an organization of monsters that would be able to perform great deeds for good and God. He knew from watching, Yugo was a good man. Unless Damien acted quickly, he was going to die. A perfectly respectable man cut down in his prime. Damien wasn't keen on bringing another monster into the world, but in his journeys, he hadn't found any other vampires. Not one wayward soul that might join his cause. Without others to form the foundation for his new ideals, Damien wouldn't be able accomplish anything. There were surely more vampires in the world like Fear. Abominations that wielded astonishing powers even greater and more terrifying than his. The problem was that Damien hadn't found them.
Damien decided. He used the tip of his right index finger to cut into his palm. Blood poured into Yugo's four stab wounds. He squeezed his fist and let the blood fall into Yugo's open mouth. He waited.
Twenty minutes passed and nothing happened. The wounds didn't close, Yugo didn't move. Damien had expected as much. He knew it took three full days for his own body to reanimate. He had hopes that he was just slow. Damien buttoned up Yugo's jacket and tried to cover up the blood stains. He picked him up. Damien found his way to Yugo's carriage and placed him inside.
They spent the day there, while Damien rested, thinking about the taste of the human blood. It had been four years since the last group of bold muggers had attacked him. The group had threatened to kill a small child that had wondered in on the commotion. Damien killed them before they were able to carry out their threat. There was something different about this incident. He was confused as to why he didn't notice when Yugo was attacked. Damien was so caught up with the other thugs, he was oblivious to it. He couldn't find his answer.
A day had gone by. Yugo's damp body was beginning to smell inside the cramped carriage. The snow had barricaded them inside the cabin. Hiding their presence from anyone that might wonder who killed the gang outside. Damien patiently waited for the third day to come. Since Damien was full from the night before, feeding was not necessary until after Yugo's change was final. Damien occupied the time by singing old church hymnals. His voice was low and almost inaudible. It helped to pass the hours.
Later on that night, the holes in Yugo's chest had closed. He was starting to regenerate. He was finally turning. Damien prayed that he keep his sanity as a vampire and not be consumed by the thirst for blood that the many pieces of literature he read had talked about. He prayed for nineteen hours, then fell asleep while staring at Yugo's body.
At dusk on the third day, Damien sat in the carriage. He wondered what type of home life Yugo had when he was alive. If he had any family, or a wife. He pondered that since he was a merchant, Yugo might have been raised by other merchants as a child. He could have learned the trade from them. He wondered if his parents were still alive. Damien played with the idea that Yugo might actually be just a simple drunk. A thought that did not sit well with him. That through all his effort, the three nights spent might be for no
thing.
Damien prayed he was wrong.
Sitting in a crouched position, Damien knelt before God. “Dear lord almighty in heaven above, I ask your favor in my endeavors to save this man's life. I ask that he be returned to this world in order to further the cause of protecting those who cannot defend themselves. To this goal, I will devote my life eternal, my time eternal. I ask of you my lord, please make him just. Make him the model for all others to come. So that one day I will look back upon this night and shed tears of happiness over the wonderful way in which you have blessed our journey.”
Yugo's hand began to twitch. At first it was closed and then it opened. The other hand started moving as well.
Damien thought about his request. He felt pain. There was a greater worry, a higher doubt in the forefront of his mind. He closed his eyes and cried out. “Lord I am afraid.” he lowered his head. “I continue to hold you as my one true god, but I am unsure of myself. Dear lord, do I still have a-” Damien stopped praying.
Yugo's eyes fluttered, he was coming to. A shallow breath flooded his chest. He coughed as dark, black sputum flew out. He reached to cover his face and fell over. Yugo wasn't used to his own muscles anymore. The same way Damien needed a few minutes to acclimate to his own body.
Yugo opened his eyes for the first time in three days. He laid on the floor of the carriage. “What happened?”
“It was dark. They surprised us.” Damien said as he helped Yugo back to his seat and sat him back. “They attacked us.”
“It feels like they won.” Yugo commented, putting his right hand to his chest.
“No, they lost in the end.” Damien remarked, smiling.
“Well, maybe you won. I did not. I feel terrible. What happened to me?” Yugo asked as he looked at Damien.
“You were celebrating.” Damien thought of exactly how to break the news to Yugo. “You had bought a round for everyone, including me.” He didn't know how to tell someone they were stabbed a few nights ago. “A couple of men followed us back from the bar.” That they had died. “They tried to mug us.” He debated as to what point to fill him in on the awful truth. “I held them off.” Damien didn't want to say it. “But they got to you.” To comfort someone that's already died was hard in itself. “They stabbed you in the chest.” It's overbearing when the only reason it happened was because of neglect. “Yugo, you died.”
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