by H. T. Night
Anyway, Chanson told me she would return for me around 3:30 a.m., and that the ceremony—the Relance de sang—would begin soon after. It could be as brief as fifteen to twenty minutes, or longer than several hours, depending on the male’s cooperation. Yeah, just what I was afraid of.
I worried about who the vampire would be, as Garvan had already requested the honor. But he was not alone, as Armando and Raquel had also approached Gustav for the honor. And, yes, they consider it an ‘honor’ since apparently this is the equivalent of a complete face and body lift among vampires. Draining the ‘blood of life’ in such a large quantity at one time means no necessary ‘tune ups’ for several centuries. Hell, I was surprised they didn’t all line up for this. But in the end it was my choice, and despite the possible hurt feelings, I chose someone else. Someone I had already learned to trust more than any other vampire. A vampire who seemed to understand me and cared for my best interests.
Chanson.
Maybe a little weird having a girl do it instead of a guy, but she is kin—even if removed by a dozen generations.
That settled, it left me with a few hours to kill before this event. Sleep would be nearly impossible, but I tried anyway. At least my eyes were rested. Then, around 2:45 a.m., I decided to take another luxurious bath to ensure my body would be at its ravishing best. My desire to minimize Peter’s reservations overrode all else, although I must admit the requirement of complete nudity beneath an ornate gown similar to the robes worn by Gustav made things more intriguing. If this had been an excursion into a secluded cabin or chalet someplace, and alone with either Peter or Racco, I’m certain neither one would have an issue with me coming to bed similarly attired.
At 3:30 a.m., Chanson arrived as promised, rapping lightly on my door.
“Txema? Are you ready?” she asked, her musical voice a tad more excited than usual.
“Yes,” I answered, and then opened the door.
She was dressed similar to me, only instead of the white lilies on a golden splash for my gown, hers was crimson and covered with a variety of colorful anemones. Like me, she appeared to have recently bathed. The lilac scent seemed stronger and more potent than before. Her ruddy complexion indicated she had recently fed, which made me feel even better about choosing her as the one to drink my blood. Less danger of being drained to death.
“Shall we go?” She reached out her right arm for me to take, and I locked my left one inside it. Then together we began our trek to our destination.
I thought the location might be near the dining hall, maybe a small room where a few vampires would also attend. At least that’s what I expected. Maybe Gustav and a few witnesses? A little freaky, but not as bad as it would be if everyone in the castle showed up. Of course, Peter only understood it would be me, him, and Chanson. He’s not happy about the prospect of more vamps in attendance. But, I’m sure he’ll be there, since he prides himself on keeping his word.
Once we reached the main floor, Chanson led me through an alcove beneath the stairs. It opened to a large room, and at the end of this room was an open doorway that led to a narrow stone staircase.
“We’re almost there, Txema,” she advised, picking up her pace as we moved toward the doorway. “The next stairs will take us to the chamber where the ceremony will be held. Your man, Peter, is already there.”
We separated from one another to climb the narrow stairs, forced to lift our gowns as we ascended to the top where a soft yellow glow emanated. A series of wall torches were also lit to illuminate our way. Frankly, it surprised me Chanson didn’t just whisk me up to the very top. But maybe this was all part of the ceremony, to ascend as true humans must.
A climb of several stories, once we approached the top I heard hushed voices. Lots of them. I started to worry about how many souls would be watching me get it on with Peter for the sake of pretty vampire survival. I could handle a few eyes in attendance, since really these creatures had been watching me my whole life. But if the number of voyeurs quadrupled…let’s just say the gates that needed to be open for this copulation to happen might not be so cooperative. And there wouldn’t be a damned thing I could do about that. Not to mention this could mean heightened anxiety for Peter as well.
“Do not fear…I will make sure this goes the way it should,” Chanson whispered to me, just before leading me into what looked like a large auditorium.
Classical instruments hung on the walls and wooden chairs were stacked on either end of the room, barely discernable in the dim torchlight. But the fact two hundred pairs of eyes were here was not so hard to discern. At least they all seemed to be vampires, their colorful eyes aglow. Some wore hoods, but all wore colorful gowns and robes similar to me and Chanson. Including Peter, and his attendant ‘protectors’, Franz and Armando. A few carried lanterns and lighted candles.
The scene prompted me to remember a jest my father once made when I dressed as a naughty nurse for a Halloween party my junior year in high school. ‘You look like a porn queen that’s been invited to a stag party!’ he had said, which nearly ruined my evening. I wore my long winter coat that night as a result, too ashamed to reveal anything more.
This was worse.
I really did feel like a porn queen, only this was more like a troupe of perverts invited to the making of a XXX film. Mortified, my pulse began to race.
“Shhh…It will be all right,” Chanson sought to assure me. “There are no humans here right now—not even Racco or his trusted staff. Sacred vampire rites like Relance de sang are off limits to humans, unless they are partaking in the ceremony. This is strictly enforced—often on pain of death to intruders.”
Okay, so that makes things a tad easier. It’s not like a vampire is going to post film footage of an event like this on YouTube.
“Welcome, Txema!” Gustav exalted, moving toward me as the other vampires made way for his presence. A path was cleared along the wooden floor, the varnished planks glistening under the collective candle and torch lights. “Come this way. Your bed is warm and ready.”
Yep, just like a porn set. A big round bed without blankets, and a single institutional white sheet. Oh Joy.
At least there were a couple of pillows.
Armando guided Peter over to the bed, whose shuffling feet told me the vampire literally dragged my partner to his station, although Armando’s grasp appeared subtle, with minimal exertion on his part.
Chanson and I arrived a moment later, moving to the left side of the bed, while Peter remained at the foot.
“Now just relax and try to forget about them,” Chanson advised, motioning to the crowd gathered nearby, but far enough away to allow for very slight privacy.
Okay, I admit they were still too close for my comfort. But, I had already decided this could be either uncomfortable or excruciatingly bad, depending on how long the damned thing took. Really, she should’ve smooth-talked Peter, since it appeared that Armando offered no encouragement to him. I detected a slight flutter just below Peter’s right eye, a nervous tic I had seen before on a couple of occasions—most recently while studying for his chemistry exam last week.
“Txema, remove your robe, my dear, and then climb up on the bed,” Gustav directed, and then looked over at Armando. “As soon as she is ready, then assist Peter in removing his robe.”
Perhaps this used to work as motivation in centuries past, but this sterile and almost scientific insensitivity toward two people about to screw wasn’t going to cut it. I might be able to ready myself through a variety of fantasy practices I knew well. Thinking about yesterday’s aborted fling with Racco would work for me if all else failed. As long as I could make an emotional connection to that memory, I should be fine. I just prayed that when I arched my back to accentuate my breasts—a posture that drove Peter nuts under normal circumstances—he would be ready and we could get this thing over and done with. Provided that Chanson had time to get her fangs imbedded into my throat without a hitch.
I removed my gown, surprised at t
he room’s sudden coolness that caused my gooseflesh to rise and nipples to harden—good and bad effects, I guess. It was like the warmth was suddenly removed by a collective gasp among my vampire audience. Indeed, so much was riding on what happened in the next half hour.
I climbed onto the bed, and positioned myself with as much ‘come and get me’ moxy as I could muster. But the promising bulge protruding from Peter’s robe disappeared soon after Armando helped him take it off. Once the coolness I mentioned touched his skin, his manhood continued to shrink, and the murmur that followed among the vampires all but sealed its death. His face flushed crimson from embarrassment that I’m sure will last a lifetime in retrospect.
Thinking there was no point to continue this debacle, I started to get up. But Chanson stopped me, firmly grasping my arm. Her touch was still warm, and it flowed into me, easing the effects from the coolness surrounding me.
“Wait, I have an idea,” she whispered in my ear, and then motioned for Armando to keep Peter from reaching for his robe. “Trust me on this.”
She winked wickedly at me, and then sauntered over to my boyfriend. I’m sure it had to mess with his head to see a girl who so strongly resembled me—and keep in mind at that point he had no idea she and I are related by blood. I’m sure if he’d noticed her birthmark, he might’ve seen things differently, but I’m pretty sure the path from her face to her generous bosom and proportionate sexy curves kept him from noticing much else. There isn’t much mystery to the mind of the typical American male.
Chanson brushed up against him, allowing her hand to linger upon his powerful chest before she sauntered over to the other side of the bed. Then, with her back to him and eyeing him coyly over her shoulder, in one smooth movement she loosened her gown and let it fall to her ankles. Completely naked, she arched her butt just enough for him to see the inviting folds of her sex and then she whirled around, wearing a predatory expression as she approached him again, strutting sultry and allowing her firm breasts to hang just slightly.
No doubt every naughty thought filed away in his head was accessed, as I could perform no better than she, despite our physical similarities. Yet in less than a minute, embarrassed soft became raging hard and fully aroused. And it remained that way as she made her way over to me. Continuing to eye him seductively, she placed her hand under my neck and lifted my head to where I could see him clearly. I wasn’t about to blow what she had successfully created—despite the intense curiosity I sensed in the surrounding throng that had encroached a step or two from their previous distance.
Meanwhile, Chanson’s heat—almost fully human—warmed me again as she moved closer. Her fangs looked like they had grown an inch longer.
“Come over and fuck her, Peter, while she’s hot for you!” she cooed, her husky tone carrying a level of seductiveness I hoped someday to attain. It damn near made me want her too—and I don’t swing that way at all. “Do it now, Peter!”
Surely her exaggerated French accent didn’t hurt matters. Something told me that if he and I did survive this misadventure romantically, dressing up like a naughty French chamber maid might be a regular requirement to appease his sexual appetite.
Excitement danced in his eyes and without any further delay he clambered upon the bed. I prepared myself to receive him inside me, allowing him to push my legs open. But before I actually felt his penetration, Chanson buried her fangs in my throat.
After the initial sting from her bite, an incredible rush of adrenaline flowed through me, encompassing my entire being. I felt an odd tingling sensation along the top of my head that quickly traveled to the soles of my feet. My heart pounded heavily, pumping my blood out of my body and into Chanson. Along with this, Peter’s steady thrusts inside me began to bring me to orgasm, though his climax had yet to come.
Suddenly, an incredibly sharp stabbing pain erupted inside my abdomen, and my own anatomy expertise told me it came from the ovary on my left side. The pain was excruciating—the worst thing I had ever encountered in my life up until then. No doubt, an ovum had been forced from dormancy down into my uterus. My ecstasy abruptly cut short, I felt the explosion of Peter’s orgasm, just as the world around me began to go black.
One of the last things I recalled was Chanson’s voice calling to me from somewhere above, urging me to drink. An acrid taste that was metallic filled my mouth as liquid poured into my open throat. I almost choked and coughed up some of it. At the same time, I began to feel a surge of strength lift the weakness and discomfort I had felt since the incredible pain erupted in my ovary.
While losing consciousness, cheers of joy erupted around me. The experiment was a success. Garvan and Armando congratulated Peter and I heard Nora tell Chanson that my color was good and that I’d be ‘fine in no time’. Hearing these things as my awareness faded gave me a sense of satisfaction. At least there was hope of better days ahead. Maybe things would work out for all of us.
But the last thing I heard before everything went blank was Gustav’s panicked shouts, followed by an escalating murmur from the group. Something about the castle gates being stormed and an invasion on the main floor. Vampires. Bad ones with a single mission.
To find and kill me.
Chapter 22
So there you have it. My story…or at least the beginning of what promises to be an interesting adventure. Oh, yes, there are a few details I need to wrap up before I close, dear reader. Starting with the events following Relance de sang, the sacred ceremony of the vampires.
Obviously I have survived, at least so far. Ralu’s army did sack the castle, and sadly from what I understand, there were casualties on both sides, including nearly half of Racco’s staff of innocent human beings. But before Ralu and his minions could find me, I was whisked to a ‘safe house’ in nearby Perpignan. A temporary stay until one of Racco’s private jets was ready for boarding.
I missed out on all of the craziness, and didn’t awake until almost noon today, roughly eight hours after I passed out. One of Racco’s assistants, a young teenager named Maria, was the one to check on me. A pretty brunette, I can only hope he hasn’t tried to bed this one, and from what I could tell from her thoughts he hasn’t yet. Yes, a side effect from my experience is that I can somehow read a person’s unspoken musings. Not complete voyeurism like the vampires possess, but I can hear partial sentences. It’s kind of weird, really, since I’ve come to understand in the past ten hours since I awoke that most of us never say everything we think. It’s a hodge-podge of random observations and urges that we somehow streamline into what we verbalize. I doubt we’re even aware of this process most of the time.
But to wake up and suddenly have immediate awareness of the endless stream of words within somebody else’s head can be extremely disturbing. At least it was for me today. And to consider it’s just the opposite experience from when I blacked out, where an incredible calm and peaceful sea of blackness surrounded me.
Surely you’re wondering about my physical condition. I mean, am I pregnant yet? And what about the incredible discomfort that racked my insides when the very first ovum of my life coursed down my left ovary and into my womb?
I can tell you that both of these questions were among the last thoughts I considered before everything went blank. My fading awareness of my pain and surroundings was the only reason I didn’t scream to high heaven. It hurt like a mo-fo, and I hope to God I’m never subjected to anything like it again!
Once Maria showed up at my bedside, in addition to the sudden assault from her worried thoughts for my welfare, I was surprised to find my body’s pain had vanished. Completely. And it surprised me that I felt really good physically. I startled the poor girl when I jumped up and started getting dressed in the change of clothes she brought for me. The modest bedroom in the much smaller estate gave me pause to consider something really had happened earlier this morning, and it wasn’t just a bad dream.
Maria’s thoughts began to overwhelm me, and when I realized in horror that the mental conf
usion bombarding my mind came from her head, I excused myself from her presence and ran into the adjacent bathroom. Thankfully she understood English when I told her I’d be right back. Most of what came from her silent musings was in French.
While washing my face in the sink I began to recall the draining of my blood by Chanson. I pulled my hair back to take a look at my neck. Not surprised the wounds had already healed, the teardrops on my neck were slightly swollen still, providing further confirmation of what had happened to me in the hours just before dawn. More mental images from the event began to flood my awareness, and I could taste the blood being poured down my throat once more.
And then incredible nausea came over me, forcing me to my knees as I retched for damn near twenty minutes.
Can morning sickness occur this quickly, or was my churning stomach from reliving the feeding of my blood back to me, as a mixture of human and vampire plasma?
I did get that answer…but not just yet.
Once I had dressed, Maria led me to the northern wing of the estate, where Mercel waited. I had mixed feelings at seeing him without Racco around, but he assured me I’d see him again before long at our new location. Still, he wouldn’t divulge where that would be.
“I know this is not what you want to hear, Mademoiselle Ybarra, but I have my orders to follow,” he explained, his expression pained despite a caring smile. “Ask me anything other than that, and if I know the answer, I will tell you.”
Well, he couldn’t answer my next question as to ‘when’ Racco would be coming to this new secret hideout—which I correctly assumed would be another castle. And he must have learned the ability to cloak his thoughts, as I picked up nothing from him. Almost like the vampires’ empty mental slates I would encounter later on, this evening. I guess just warm-blooded humans transmit readable thoughts.
Other details Mercel did know and could tell me were these: we would be boarding the plane around 3:00 p.m., and joining us would be more than a hundred vampires, still asleep in their coffins. This was as much for my continued protection as companionship, he advised. An additional cargo plane would also be making the trip, carrying most of the heavier caskets and other treasured items already packed by Gustav’s servants.