The Font

by Tracy St. John

  Did he possess a weapon on his person? Naya ran her hands over the motionless body beneath her, searching for a knife or a gun. She couldn’t help but note the softness of his hair, the firmness of his arms and shoulders, the width of his chest. Lower still, she searched the waistband of his thoroughly modern jeans, not at all in keeping with his old-fashioned bearing. Her face warmed to be touching him so close to where his manhood was, that delicious part of him she’d gotten to know much too briefly.

  He had no weapons she could find, not even the knife she’d seen him use against her guards at Heriolf’s mansion. There was nothing she could defend herself with. Naya wasn’t sure she could kill him anyway. It seemed wrong to even think of attacking the man who had woken her body.

  She trembled at the memory of the way he’d felt inside her, moving in and out with confidence as if engaged in a dance they’d done together a thousand times. Naya thought the glamour he’d used on her didn’t explain the rightness of their coupling, of how her body had responded so ardently to him. As she replayed the encounter in her mind, her hands again explored him, discovering him now that she was able to do so. Again she wished he had been as naked as she when he’d taken her, so she’d know the silk of his skin against hers. She felt a rush of wetness between her legs and moaned.

  Elisha was cold in his temporary death. He’d been warmer before, especially after he’d taken her blood. Naya slid up his body and pressed her mouth to his slightly parted lips. She wondered at the thoughts she was having about this traitor who had stolen her blood, her virginity, and ultimately herself. How could such a calculating brute seem noble to her after all he’d done? And she even desired the fiend! But when she compared Elisha’s unwavering yet conscientious force to the brutality she’d witnessed Heriolf display many times over the years, she couldn’t help but wish it had been the younger vampire who had taken care of her, rescuing her from abusive foster parents.

  Naya made herself stop caressing and kissing Elisha. She was being as much a traitor as he was with her disloyal thoughts. It was Heriolf who had saved her, Heriolf who had conducted her to adulthood, Heriolf who guarded her with fierce protectiveness. If he seemed a tyrant at times, too bloodthirsty and cruel, it was because the former Viking had come of age in a time when all men must kill or be subjugated. Her allegiance must remain with him.

  Naya would have continued her self-counsel on faithfulness but for the ending of the day outside of the church. All thoughts fled as Elisha’s chest rose with his first breath of the night.

  * * * *

  Elisha felt the warm body on top of him immediately, heard the rush of living blood flowing through veins. The terrible thirst was upon him at once, and he moved lightning quick to find the soft neck of the woman, to sink his fangs in, to bring that rich, sweet nectar into his mouth.

  The delightful elixir flowed over his tongue, and he closed his arms tight around the jerking body, holding her still so that he could feed without struggle. Her sobbed cries of, “Please, Elisha, please,” were nonsense syllables to him. All his being concentrated on pulling on the small wounds he’d made in her flesh, of coaxing her blood to fill his mouth that he might gorge himself on its vitality.

  After a minute or two, another hunger asserted itself. Elisha became very aware of the softness of the body against his, and the desire in his loins roared as loudly as his thirst. He freed his burgeoning cock from its suddenly too tight confines. Pushing up the softer fabric that shielded her tender flesh, his groping fingers found the downy swirls of her pubic hair, and further in, the molten wet core of her entrance. He possessed no thought, only instinct that told him she was his for the taking.

  He immersed himself in that moist center of her with a groan. She cried out in return, her fists gathering the collar of his shirt. Elisha moved her to heighten his pleasure, pulling her hips down to greet his as they bucked upwards.

  Friction. Heat. Tightness clenching around him. Wet. The tang of blood. Softness yielding to his flesh. All his senses were bound in euphoria, heightening towards elation. The channel that held him tightly yet submitted to his need clutched him with a strength that brought him to ecstasy’s door in an instant. A woman’s cry filled his casket, and then the sleeve enclosing his penis flexed against him, milking him, coaxing him as he had enticed its owner’s blood.

  Elisha released the woman’s throat to groan as his cock pumped out its juices to join hers. And the woman – Naya, it was Naya whose sweetness he enjoyed – came anew, her sex spasming harder yet as she screamed his name.

  Her breath was labored for awhile after that. She lay limp upon him, her sheath offering tiny shudders as she recovered. They were quiet for a bit, coming back to themselves little by little.

  When Elisha realized what he’d done to her again, all the glow from gratification left him in an instant. He reached between two panels of the silk lining his casket to press the lid’s release. As soon as it swung open, admitting the comparatively brighter environs of the sacristy, he pushed Naya to a sitting position, carefully withdrawing his penis from the warmth of her body. He arranged her clothing for her so that she was modestly covered once again.

  He couldn’t look her in the eye. “I’m sorry,” he offered, knowing how weak his apology was.

  Her tone held no blame. She almost sounded kind. “You had to know this would happen if you woke with me on top of you.”

  Elisha shook his head. “I have better control than that. But the taste of your blood, the smell of you…”

  He made himself stop. It sounded too much as if he blamed Naya for what was entirely his fault. What was she that her warmth drove every sane thought from his head?

  Elisha’s guts curled in on themselves with guilt. He should not have closed her up in the casket with him. But there had been no choice but to keep her close, and he had dared to hope he might not succumb to the hungers of his immortal, parasitic body. He’d been a fool.

  “I regret hurting you, Naya. I was brought up to respect women, not rape them.” He sighed. “I’d offer to let you castrate me, but it will only grow back.”

  “How old are you?” she asked. She clambered out of the casket and shook her long hair to cascade down her back.

  Elisha stared at her for an instant before standing himself. He wondered if she was in shock. Surely she should be sobbing or trying to kill him now, not carrying on a conversation as if he hadn’t just fed on her blood and body.

  “Elisha? You don’t wish me to know your age?”

  He licked his lips, discovered a drop of her blood on them and swallowed it with reverence. He said, “I was made vampire over 200 years ago when I was 33.”

  She looked at his nose, and he realized she was avoiding his eyes. “Did you wish to be one?”

  Remnants of the old pain whispered to him. “I wished to die. I had lost my wife and children to tuberculosis and felt I had nothing to live for. When the vampire came for me, I gave myself freely. I thought he would kill me, not make me immortal.”

  “You must have hated him.”

  “At first.” Elisha almost smiled at the memory. How he had railed when he awoke to find himself still on Earth! “But my sire was as lonely as I, having lost his own children during his mortal life. He saw my pain as a reflection of his, and wanted me for his son.”

  “And Heriolf sent him to his final death?”

  “Thaddeus was the last of the holdouts on the council who opposed Heriolf’s bid for sole power.” Elisha’s hands tightened into fists. Anger swelled within him.

  “Why did Heriolf let you live? He had to know you might want revenge.” Naya’s eyes were narrow in obvious suspicion.

  “My sire was wise. As a member of the High Council, he was always under the threat of attack from ambitious vampires. He kept our relationship secret from others, forcing me to do the same.” Elisha blinked against a sudden sting in his eyes. How far Thaddeus had gone to keep him safe he’d only discovered recently. “He must have known Heriolf w
ould come for him. He sent me to Europe to see to his business ventures there. I remembered thinking any lackey could have accomplished the errand he had me do. When I got back, he had been dead for a year, and Heriolf had seized all the power for himself.”

  “So Heriolf never even knew your connection to your sire.”

  “No, and I have bided my time since, waiting for the right moment to attack.”

  “When did this happen? When did Heriolf become Savannah’s lord?”

  “Seven years ago.”

  Naya started. “When he began taking my blood.”

  It was Elisha’s turn to interrogate. “How long did you know Heriolf before he began feeding from you?”

  “I was five when I met him, so twelve years. He came along shortly after I was taken in as a foster child by an awful couple. They were human, and he was introduced to me as my foster father’s uncle.”

  “Then what?” Elisha prodded when she offered no more.

  Naya shrugged. “For the first few years I didn’t know he was a vampire and that they were his servants. He made them stop being hateful to me. He insisted they treat me well, and I was grateful to him.” She shook her head and straightened. “So this act of kidnapping me is all for revenge. You seek to weaken Heriolf so you can repay the death of your sire.”

  Elisha snorted. “Paying Heriolf back for Thaddeus’ final death is only icing on the cake. Your master has killed so many, both human and vampire alike. His indiscretions threaten to expose us to the mortal world.”

  “What indiscretions?”

  “He advocates turning all our victims into vampires or killing them. He allows hunting in the populated areas where we might be seen. Humans will destroy us all if they discover our existence.”

  “You deny you do this for personal satisfaction?” Naya’s green eyes narrowed further.

  “I will destroy him for my own pleasure, yes. But there is a greater good to my actions.”

  Naya’s arched eyebrow told Elisha she was not convinced of his motives. It was no matter. With or without her understanding, Heriolf would die. Hopefully, he’d be screaming as he did so.

  * * * *

  After waking, Heriolf stalked through his mansion, his thoughts churning with impotent fury that had not waned after the previous day’s death. He still possessed far more strength than the other vampires, but he could feel his might waning already. Within days he would be no more powerful than any normal vampire if he didn’t recover Naya.

  He reached the hall. The massive fireplace was cold and dark, but the sconces were lit. Only Lyndon, a wailing human woman, and a guard remained. The space seemed vast now that it was cleared of last night’s celebrants … and traitors.

  The guard shoved the bruised and sobbing woman towards Heriolf as Lyndon bowed. “Something to quench my lord’s thirst,” he said and stepped back.

  The woman, not old but not young, fell to her knees before the vampire lord. “Please let me go. I have children. Whatever you want I’ll get it for you, but please let me go home to them.”

  From her mind, he saw that his guard had taken her just before dawn as she’d been climbing her mini-van on her way to work as an office administrator. She was a single parent, her infirm mother and two small children completely dependent on her.

  Without a word, Heriolf tore off her pink sweater set and knee-length skirt. The sex was satisfying and she screamed pleasingly right up until the moment she died, but her blood was weak and watery compared to Naya’s. He felt little better despite gorging himself. When he was finished he tossed the body aside for the servants to clear away, which they did quickly.

  He turned to see Lyndon, the previous guard, and another guard awaiting him with one of the house slaves. The human, a young male with features as delicate as a girl’s, was weeping and cringing already.

  “What is this?” Heriolf growled at his underlings. “I want a report on the search. I have no time to deal with slaves.”

  Lyndon answered. “He saw something, my lord. It may help us find your lady.”

  Heriolf peered into the boy’s mind. Immediately he saw a handsome jeans-clad vampire, his brown hair tied back in a short ponytail. In the memory of last night’s gathering, this subject stood at the back of the crowd. He seemed to glare at Heriolf sitting on his throne before ducking behind others and slipping out the door into the mansion’s main hall.

  “Who is he?” Heriolf demanded.

  The young man whimpered, his dark curls plastered to his head from sweat. Somehow he managed to answer, “I do not know his name, my lord.”

  His mind gave Heriolf a better view of the other’s face. Dark brown eyes and a serious cast to his expression. It triggered a memory.

  “I may know that one. He and a Negro were often seen in the company of the last vampire on the council I had to kill for treachery. They were abroad at the time when I executed Thaddeus, if I remember correctly.”

  “A friend looking for revenge?” one of the guards hazarded.

  “Hmm. The council member was much older than they, almost as old as me.” Heriolf scowled. He’d thought that bastard holdout Thaddeus had sired no one. Could a vampire son be the potential traitor who’d left early last night?

  Lyndon smiled with growing excitement. “Perhaps then it’s not a full rebellion, my lord. It may be just the foolishness of a few offspring bent on ill-conceived vengeance.”

  Heriolf bared fangs at him, and the smile disappeared in a hurry. “Almost thirty vampires left early or escaped last night. That is not a few. Why did this blood bag not come forward sooner?”

  The human was nearly facedown on the floor, desperately abasing himself before Heriolf. He wailed, “I did not think it was important until later, my lord.”

  Heriolf looked into his mind again. Was it already more difficult to search out thoughts? He did find blinding fear in the youth’s head however, and that was a delight. “You did not speak up because you were afraid to approach me. As you should be.” To his aide he asked, “Have you fed yet?”

  Lyndon licked his lips greedily. His groin swelled as he looked down on the young man, still lovely despite his wretched expression. “No, my lord. Bringing you this news was more important.”

  “Indeed. You may have this one for whatever uses you wish.”

  The human screamed. “Please, my lord Heriolf! Mercy! Mercy!”

  None of the vampires acknowledged the desperate cries. Lyndon bowed again. “Thank you for such generosity, my lord.”

  Heriolf thought about his next move as he watched his aide have the young man. There was no pity from Lyndon either, as he elected to not kill the boy right away. When he was done, Lyndon excused himself, dragging the naked, semi-conscious youth to be chained in Heriolf’s torture chamber for a future feeding and more play.

  “Return as soon as he is stored away. We leave in five minutes.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Gather all the guards,” Heriolf told the two that had stood on silent watch the whole time. They bowed and left to carry out his orders.

  Heriolf went outside and stared at the moon. It was time to find Naya, and to do that it was obvious he must lead the search himself.

  * * * *

  As Elisha flew them through the cold night, Naya struggled to understand her feelings. She had betrayed Heriolf twice now. True, Elisha’s second taking had been without consent, something to hold him responsible for. But she had wanted him. There was no denying that. Before he’d wakened, she’d been touching and kissing him, enjoying her body’s response to the feel of him. Had he asked for her permission, she would have been sorely pressed to refuse.

  Even now that her desire had been sated, she fought to not run her hands over the parts of Elisha she could reach. She thought how glorious it would be to have sex with him right now, flying through the air with the chill wind blowing through her hair.

  What is wrong with me? Despite all his assurances, Elisha may still decide it’s better for me to d
ie so that Heriolf can never claim me again. I must stop thinking of him as a temptation and remember he’s the enemy of my protector.

  Before she could pursue further thoughts their travel slowed, and the lights of Savannah were below them. Minutes later, they landed in the midst of the city.

  Naya’s first impression was that Elisha must be incredibly foolhardy to alight in such a busy area where humans might see the amazing sight of a man and woman drop from the sky. But after a moment she realized he’d brought her to a quiet place. A strange place.

  She recognized it as a roundhouse, a place where locomotives and train cars of all sorts were garaged. There were steam engines, black workhorses of sizes ranging from tremendous to no longer than a pickup truck. A couple of diesel engines, more fuel efficient but lacking in the artistry and romance of their predecessors, also rested within the dark cavern of the roundhouse. An obligatory red caboose and coaches had been restored to former gleaming glory with placards attached to their railings that announced, Tours at 11 a.m., 2 p.m., and 4 p.m.

  “The train museum,” Elisha confirmed. “Have you seen it?”

  “No.” Naya turned to take in the rest of what she could see. Security lighting illuminated the turntable and another building in which derelict engines and cars sat lonely and seemingly forgotten.

  “They restore them here. The whole yard is a work in progress. Come. The others are meeting in the blacksmith’s shop.”

  Elisha led her through a brick archway between the roundhouse and repair shop. Then they picked their way through a maze of courtyards that were a part of the huge complex. Naya hadn’t even known the place existed despite living near Savannah all her life, but that was no surprise. Heriolf had kept her sheltered for her protection.

  Near one of the many brick buildings, a voice crept out of the darkest of shadows. “Elisha.” A tall vampire, one Naya vaguely recognized, stepped out to greet them. She thought his name was Lars. He looked her over with what could only be called satisfaction. “Good work.”