The Vorbing

by Stewart Stafford

  “Have you gone mad?” Vlad screamed.

  Mattna leaned over Vlad and opened his mouth to reveal a set of yellow, curved fangs.

  Vlad froze and held his breath. “You’re…You’re a vampire!” Vlad stuttered, as if trying to convince himself of the reality of the situation unfolding before his eyes. He had never seen a human vampire before, and it fascinated and repelled him. Perhaps no human eyes ever had seen a human vampire before.

  “I gave myself to them tonight,” Mattna boasted.

  “Impossible,” Vlad said, “vampires never let human converts live.”

  “No?” Mattna said with a taunting laugh. “Deadulus and his kind are not the only vampires in this land. Now you will know how good it feels to be one of them.”

  “No!” Vlad shouted, pushing his friend away as far as he could.

  “Let go of putrescent humanity and its weaknesses, Vlad,” Mattna begged, his eyes getting redder and more maddened by the second. “Do so and you shall live forever like me, and become the most powerful vampire warrior in existence. Even more powerful than Deadulus himself!”

  “Eternal damnation is what they offer, and you have chosen to lay down with evil” Vlad said.

  Mattna cackled in a way Vlad had never heard before, and it made his flesh turn cold.

  “You’re not my friend,” Vlad said. “You’re a filthy creature like them now. My enemy!”

  Vlad looked around and saw the pile of stakes he had whittled earlier. He reached out to grab one, but Mattna took hold of him with great force, and a life-or-death struggle began. Vlad stretched to reach the stakes with his fingertips as Mattna’s fangs were an inch from his throat.

  “Accept the contagion, Vlad!” Mattna growled.

  Vlad grabbed Mattna’s neck and attempted to shove him back, but Mattna overpowered him and clamped his teeth around Vlad’s throat. Mattna’s red eyes rolled back in his head. He applied pressure to Vlad’s skin with his jaws to puncture it and vorb for the first time. Mattna jerked his body back suddenly as he struggled to regain control of himself from the bloodthirst that tore at his mind, body, and soul. Tears came to the old man’s eyes and his voice became the gentle sound Vlad remembered.

  “Kill me now, for God’s sake, boy, KILL ME!” Mattna sobbed, a vestige of his true self rising in him for the last time.

  Vlad knew he was dead if he hesitated. Mattna would go on to vorb on others, kill them, and never be free. Blocking all thoughts from his mind, Vlad grabbed a stake and plunged it into Mattna’s chest. Vlad watched himself do it as if a detached, horrified observer. The old man died a slow, terrible death, wailing like an animal in pain. Vlad let go of the stake as if it was red hot. He looked away and vomited from shock. Mattna’s lifeless body collapsed on top of Vlad, the blood of his friend baptising him in death. Vlad had killed his mentor, his best friend, and the only real father figure he had in his life, and the vampires had made him do it. He shoved Mattna’s body off of him and it slumped to the side. Vlad thumped the earth with his fists in frustration. He then scrambled to his feet. Incensed, Vlad tore at his clothes and skin with his fingernails, drawing blood in the process.

  “Is this what you want, my blood?” Vlad shouted at Mattna’s corpse. “Take it, take it all, I don’t want to live!”

  Vlad then let loose such a feral scream of loss and frustration from his throat that it stopped him in his tracks. He glared right at Vampire Mountain.

  “DEADULUS! I WILL KILL YOU AND EVERY FOUL THING LIKE YOU!” Vlad yelled.

  A cacophonous laugh from the trees in the distance made Vlad stop dead in his tracks. “You did this, you cowards!” he continued. “You sent an old man to kill me? Why don’t you face me yourselves? Why don’t you-”

  A shrieking sound echoed around Vlad and he felt his neck being pinned to the ground by an enormous claw. Vlad knew how a mouse felt under the cold, sharp grip of a cat, but he was in the presence of something far more fearsome. He was in the grip of one of the foulest creatures ever encountered by man or beast. Its skin was moist and reptilian. Vlad was repulsed by the sight and smell of the beast.

  “You called, mortal?” the vampire sneered.

  Its black forked tongue tasted Vlad’s bleeding wounds, making it shudder orgasmically.

  “I am Necromus, heir to the throne of mighty Deadulus, and one day, his successor.”

  “You are his brother,” Vlad said.

  “All vampires are brothers in the brotherhood of night,” Necromus said.

  Vlad’s mother appeared in the doorway.

  “Vlad, what is-” Hana said, stopping as her eyes widened at the monstrosity before her.

  The vampire lasciviously looked at her.

  “Oh, God!” Hana said as she recoiled in horror from the sight of her son at the mercy of a pitiless vampire.

  Necromus smiled, showing a set of serrated, curved yellow fangs as he gave a throaty laugh that came from the depths of his dark soul.

  “Who’s the pretty one, eh?” Necromus said, smugly savouring the exposure of Vlad’s Achilles heel.

  “Go back inside,” Vlad whispered to his mother.

  Hana, frozen with fear, did not move.

  “GO IN!” Vlad shouted forcefully. It was all he could do to save her life without giving ground to the vampire. Hana slowly complied and retreated indoors. Vlad looked at the vampire. “If you kill anyone, let it be me,” Vlad said.

  “A noble gesture from an unworthy creature,” Necromus sneered. “I have a message for thee from my master.”

  “What’s the message, death-giver?” Vlad asked.

  Necromus gripped Vlad even tighter with his claws.

  “We release you from the prison of mortality,” Necromus said. “THIS is the message.”

  Necromus tore Vlad’s mouth open with his talons as he contorted his jaw and tried to vomit a steady stream of black blood into the boy’s throat. Vlad averted his head enough so the foul fluid missed his mouth and spattered over his cheek and neck instead.

  “I’m going to kill you for what you did to my friend,” Vlad said.

  The vampire threw his fearsome head back and cackled scornfully.

  “I drank the blood of a hundred men at McLintock’s Spit!” Necromus said. “Why should I fear a struggling boy?”

  “This is why!” Vlad said as he rammed a stake through the vampire’s chest.

  Awful, feral yowls of disbelief came from the vampire’s mouth as Vlad desperately tried to crawl to safety. The deafening roars echoed around the hills. Necromus lashed out at Vlad and gashed his leg. The creature then fell forward, embedding the stake even deeper in his chest.

  “Deadulus will tear your souls apart for this!” Necromus said menacingly. “You and your whore of a mother!”

  “This will silence you forever!” Vlad said, as he picked up an axe and beheaded Necromus. The head rolled off and stopped next to the body of Mattna. Thick, dark blood flowed everywhere. Even though his head was separated from his body, the vampire’s eyes still glared at Vlad.

  “You have won nothing, Ingisbohr,” the lips of Necromus whispered, the life ebbing from the severed head by the second. “Deadulus will come for you in your sleep. You will see him in your nightmares and wish for death. We will come in our thousands and wipe every last one of you from your precious earth. I return to thee, my king.”

  At last, the blood loss took its toll, and Necromus’ eyes closed for good. Vlad studied the vampire’s features. It was the first time he had the chance to see a vampire up close without the danger of being attacked. He was repulsed by the mottled pallor of the face and the decaying odour from the fangs, but he could not look away from it. It looked vaguely human, but was also not human. It was dead, but Vlad wondered if it had ever had life in the conventional sense. The many paradoxes of the strange being before him raced through Vlad’s mind.

  Before Vlad had time to contemplate any further, he felt stinging pain all over his body and collapsed. Several drops of the vampire’s bl
ood must have entered his mouth somehow. It was coursing through his veins and taking effect. Hana rushed over to her son and began to drag him indoors.

  “For the love of God, come inside, Vlad, before more of them arrive,” Hana said as she helped her sick, exhausted son back into the safety of the farmhouse. She slammed and bolted the door shut behind them.

  Regan McGillycuddy’s room was in the attic of the house and one step removed from the activity below her. She lay in the beams of moonlight that streamed in through her open bedroom window in the ceiling. She knew it should stay closed at night, but she had a hidden fantasy about vampires and secretly longed for a visit from mighty Deadulus. Another night was about to pass and she ached for the encounter with the NightLord that would fulfil her.

  Regan’s long, flaxen hair draped over the shoulders of her nightgown. Her heart raced with anticipation as she adjusted her sleeping position. Then she heard the dull thud of someone’s footfall, except softer. The floorboards gently creaked. She thought it was her mother checking on her and sat up to take a look. An immense, silvery silhouette stood over her bed in the moonlight. She screamed, but an invisible hand covered her mouth. Another hand tore her gown from her young body. A great weight landed on top of her and she strained for breath. The door burst open, and her father came into the room.

  “What is it?” her father cried, straining to see the cause of his daughter’s terror in the moonlit attic.

  The weight lifted off her, and she saw her father being hurled across the room again and again by the intruder.

  “No, stop it, leave him!” she cried. “It’s me you want.”

  Her father slumped to the floor. Blood trickled from his nose, mouth, and ears, but he was still alive. Slowly, the quiet footfall returned as the thing got closer to her again.

  Regan felt invisible hands parting her legs and the great pressure of its weight on top of her. She let out a low, throaty moan as a massive claw choked her and she felt herself being penetrated simultaneously. Her eyes opened wide and she let out painful gasps and wondered if the rumours were true that Deadulus had a two-headed penis. Regan did not dare look down, but the sheer girth and twitching movement of his member inside her seemed to confirm it, and it made her eyes roll back in her head. It was the type of thing girls in the village giggled about in private. The reality was anything but funny: It was brutal and raw and relentless.

  Regan was reeling from the ferocity of the assault. She heard the intruder grunting and smelled its foetid breath. She tried to lean her head back away from it, but it was no use. Her breasts bled as sharp teeth bit and suckled on them. Claws dug into her shoulders as the thrusting increased in intensity. She prayed for the fury between her legs to subside. The sting of freezing ejaculate signalled that her ordeal was almost at an end. The enormous phallus withdrew and the footfall crept back across the floor. Afraid to move, Regan lay there bleeding and saw the shadow shoot out of the window and into the air. She listened to the sound of its beating wings as it flew away. Exhausted, Regan lost consciousness. Her fantasy of meeting Deadulus had become an awful fact, but the worst was yet to come for her. She would live to regret it in ways she had never imagined.

  To add to his rapidly deteriorating condition, Vlad was inconsolable. He refused to accept that Mattna gave himself to the vampires willingly. What was even worse was that Mattna also had tried to violate the sanctity of Vlad’s home and the trust they had built up over years to try to make him a vampire, too. It was totally out of character and a complete mystery the way Vlad’s old friend and mentor had acted in his last moments. It felt like a betrayal on so many levels.

  Mattna had filled the gap in Vlad’s life when his father had died. Although Vlad had delivered the fatal blow, he considered Mattna dead already when he did it. It was a living death that Vlad mercifully had ended for him. He blamed the vampires for the deaths of both his father and Mattna. He hated them even more for forcing him to act that way against Mattna, even though he knew it was only the shell of the man he had confronted. Vlad felt lost and lonely again. He still had his mother, Hana, and Ula in his life, but they fulfilled a different role than Mattna had. Vlad never talked about the vampires with them. If he tried to, they quickly changed the subject. Now he had to go on fighting alone against Deadulus and his kind. Visiting Mattna’s hut was the only real reason Vlad ever had for leaving the main village of Nocturne. He seemed stuck there forever with no hope of any solace from the reign of terror of the vampires. The bleakness that surrounded him was choking. Vlad hugged the breastplate Mattna had given him to his chest and wept burning tears. After a few minutes, he threw the breastplate on the ground and ran into the field that led to the mountain. The sun just had risen, but thick, dark clouds obscured it; it was enough cover for the strongest of vampires, like Deadulus.

  “You are a coward, Deadulus!” Vlad screamed. “Do you hear me? You send sick old men to make me like you. Show yourself, confront me if you dare!”

  His cries echoed up the mountain, into the dark recesses of a cave where something stirred in the gloom.

  “Deadulus, do you hear me?” Vlad roared as he stormed up the slope.

  Vlad took a breath and opened his mouth to yell again when he heard a cry like an eagle and felt a massive weight on his chest. He took a moment to recover from the impact. At first, he only heard raspy breathing. Then he smelled the decaying stench of its breath.

  “I am here,” said the rumbling, deep voice of Deadulus as it resonated in Vlad’s chest cavity.

  Vlad knew the voice spoke the truth as he looked at the claw that pinned him to the ground with effortless power. The sheer size of the beast staggered Vlad. All foolish thoughts of bravery deserted him.

  “You have killed Necromus, Ingisbohr,” Deadulus said with barely repressed rage in his voice.

  “Yes,” Vlad said, “and I shall kill you too.”

  The creature threw its head back and roared a sneering laugh that reverberated throughout the valley. Then it looked down at its quarry on the ground and put its face right up to Vlad’s.

  “You wish to kill me, mortal?” the beast sneered.

  “Y-Yes, I do,” the young man stammered as he stared at the rows of ancient, gleaming fangs that dripped with saliva in anticipation.

  “That is why humans are my favourite prey,” Deadulus grinned, “succulent and senseless.”

  “I am not afraid of you, Deadulus,” Vlad replied.

  Deadulus unleashed a thunderous snarl at Vlad. Vlad shook violently and blinked uncontrollably with fear. Deadulus chuckled low and gutturally.

  “I smell your fear, Ingisbohr,” Deadulus said with a trembling rage. “I see it in your eyes and feel it in your weak body. If we were in darkness now, you would be in shreds on the ground.”

  The vampire’s vast wings began to beat behind him. “The daylight has saved your insignificant mortal life, but the taste of death shall never be far from you, Vlad Ingisbohr,” Deadulus said ominously. “I shall see to that.”

  Vlad still heard the fading, incessant pounding of the vampire's wings as he ran. Vlad fled down the mountainside as fast as his legs could carry him, sometimes even quicker. He stumbled and staggered down steep slopes and through thick bushes until finally he saw the farm. He collapsed in a heap and lay there for several minutes until he caught his breath. Death had almost claimed him. He refused to let aggression get the better of him again. He would have to be as cunning as Deadulus to have any chance of defeating him. At that moment, however, Vlad hoped he would never see another vampire as long as he lived. His mother came rushing over to him.

  “Vlad, what lunacy is this?” she anxiously enquired. “What are you doing out here?”

  “I needed air, that’s all,” Vlad said.

  She took one look at the claw marks and dark blood stains on his clothing and knew. “You met Deadulus, didn’t you?” she said as she looked up into the highlands.

  “Yes,” Vlad muttered softly.

  “My
God, Vlad,” she said, “you’re lucky you’re still breathing.”

  “I know,” he grudgingly admitted. “It was a mistake.”

  “Listen to me, Son,” she said as she stared at him, “you are never to go near that mountain again, do you hear me?’

  “Mother!” Vlad protested.

  “Never again, promise me,” she insisted. “Your father is in his grave because of the vampires; I can’t afford to lose you to them, too. You are all I have left now.”

  “You know I can’t make that promise,” Vlad said assertively.

  A look of resignation crossed Hana’s features.

  “For now, I have no plans to return to that mountain,” Vlad conceded.

  Hana puffed her cheeks out with relief. She did not receive the full assurance she wanted from Vlad, but she was grateful for the minor concession. Vlad went to the lake and washed off the congealed dark blood on his face and body. He felt unwell, worse than before, and lay down on his bed once more. Fever took hold of him, and he broke out in a lather of sweat. As he closed his eyes, his heart thundered in his chest, and he struggled to breathe. His system was reacting to the vampire blood. The blood had been in contact with his skin, and some form of contagion was transmitted to him by Necromus. It was taking effect. Vlad’s sickly mind wondered if Deadulus spared him because he sensed the vampire blood in his Ingisbohr veins and was curious to see what would happen. Perhaps one vampire’s blood was poisonous to another vampire, so Deadulus could not vorb from him at that time. Whatever the reason was for his life being spared, Vlad would not find it at that moment. All conscious thought left him. Somehow Vlad struggled his way into a searing, restive sleep. His brain tore at his eyelids for them to open and release him from the dark place where the vampires had consigned him. Helplessly, he drifted into the vampires’ nightmare world.

  When Vlad opened his eyes, he was flat on his back on a dry riverbed. Flies swarmed around him on the cracked, dusty ground in the summer heat. As he lay there, basking in the glare of the sun, he felt a distant rumbling vibrate along the parched earth. Vlad tried to sit up and turn around to see what was coming, but he felt paralysed. Something pinned him to the terra firma, and all his efforts were futile. Vlad forced his eyes to turn back as far as possible in his head until they hurt, but he saw very little, and still the rumbling got louder. He thought he saw a flash flood crashing around the bend of the river and thundering towards him. Vlad felt nauseous and closed his eyes as he braced himself for impact. The unrelenting surge slammed into him with great force and propelled him helplessly along with it. It was only when he opened his eyes and looked around that he noticed the colour of the water.