“Amelia, sweetheart, then prove it, prove it by just giving me your hand, that is all I ask.” I watched as her shoulders slumped, making the sight of her in that moment look even smaller than she usually did. Gods, but seeing her from behind like this, made me grit my teeth, for she looked like a child who had just had their dreams crushed. I clearly wasn’t the only one suffering an internal battle, one that she didn’t realise yet was a war none of us would win. She wanted to do what she believed was right, but she also knew that if she did, then she would sacrifice my heart in the process as she must have known what such actions would do to me? For how could she speak of her love for me if she didn’t?
My answer unfortunately came in the cruel form of her walking away from me and towards the Tree of Souls, and what was a permanent portal into Hell. And all the while she utterly refused to look back at me, knowing that if she did then the sight of my pain would have been my last and only power against her determination. Which was why I found myself soon roaring out in desperation, hoping…no, praying to any fucking God that would listen to take pity on me and grant me the same amount of power they had to stop her.
“NO! COME BACK HERE!” I bellowed in rage, although it was no use as my demanding words were lost to a stubborn mind that refused to hear anything other than her misplaced beliefs and ironclad resolve. I knew this when she continued to voice a love for me that in this moment she refused to back up with her actions.
“I love you so much, that I would go to Hell and back for you,” she said in a way that I knew she was already lost to me. I knew it. I felt it. I fucking hated it, which is why I quickly shifted my focus on my last hope at stopping her.
“I DEMAND YOU FUCKING LET ME INSIDE NOW!” I thundered like a wild beast, knowing that the sound was that of half man, half demon. That the Hellish part of me was an echoing rage that vibrated around my body and mind as if my demon had the power to rip me apart by the seams. To tear apart the shreds of my humanity and take control over the parts of my mind that keep him contained.
But containing that Hell was what I forced myself to do because I knew no good would come of letting that part of myself free, not when I needed to keep a level head. A level head in place of the pounding, furious rage that I could feel beating against my vessel. One that would have only managed in getting me knocked on my ass the second my demon foolishly tried to fight us both through the barrier.
I couldn’t afford for that to happen.
However, the Keepers of Three simply shook their heads at my threat, signing their own death sentence. For when I finally made it through this fucking thing then I would sever all three heads from their warped fucked up body!
Amelia glanced their way, obviously worried that they would have no choice but to grant their Master his wish. Even in my rage I could see the way she tensed as if readying herself for my granted entrance but then relaxed when she saw the unfulfilled outcome thanks to their silent refusal. Because she didn’t know that the Keepers weren’t a slave to their Master, whose life they were connected to, but they were a slave to the Tree of Souls, one that was connected to mine.
Fucking semantic bullshit!
It was the sacrificial roots of my heart that Lucifer had forced to beat with his own blood. I owned every soul whose essence was symbolised as a silver leaf on that tree. A soul that became infected, turning back to its original state of a mindless, bloodthirsty being. This was as the infection grew up its roots, like veins pumping deadly blood back to the heart. Soon it would reach me, its source of new life and that would be the end of my people.
But of course, I knew this already, even without seeing the tree and without once more finding myself in the Temple in which my vessel took its last breath as a mortal man. Our memories merging from beginning to end and finally a rebirth that I now knew Amelia had witnessed as if she had been there herself.
This was why she now believed that she had the power to stop what I had started decades ago. A chain of events that at the time was necessary in preventing the end of all life, not just that of my own and those connected to it. A cruel twist of fate that now brought us to a new threat and one that I had no intention of letting Amelia become entangled with, just like her mother had the first time. Now all I had to do was convince her of that fact before I had no choice but to imprison my Chosen One in the depths of Castle Blutfelsen. But then again, she would no doubt find a way out of Blood Rock, for she had seemingly made a skill out of getting herself both into trouble and out of it again. However, this time her guilt was once again evident as she hung her head and confessed,
“I am so sorry, Lucius, I hope one day you will forgive me.”
One day perhaps but today…fuck no! Which was precisely why I let loose a string of lies, just by the Gods be damned praying that they were strong enough to stick and stop her in the midst of this insanity,
“NO! No…no I will not! Do you hear me, Amelia! If you do this, I will never fucking forgive you!” I watched as the entirety of her body tensed as if my words had the power to freeze every cell within the vessel of my troublesome mortal angel. This was when I knew my words had at the very least some power left and as I opened my mouth to say more, she got there first, dousing that hope in ice.
“I’m sorry,” she said as she looked up at the tree and it was like receiving a double edged blade in my gut as it also sounded like a premature apology for what she could sense as being her failure. Gods, but why did she feel so responsible for my kind? Was it because of her mother? Had discovering the truth from the Keepers of what really happened that day now managed to warp her good sense of preservation…if she ever had any to begin with!
Fuck, but if she actually did the insane thing and walked through that portal then I would be fucking beyond furious with her! Something that was looking more likely by the second as I followed her gaze and saw that now she was looking directly at what was easily seen as the most important soul to me on there…
The crimson rose of my Chosen One.
The soul I had stolen that day and had bloomed into a beautiful flower, doing so even when I had denied the existence of what it had truly meant to me, for I had known better the moment it had happened. I had known what fate had in store for me and despite being determined to run from it, I knew that one day the inevitable would catch up with me. Because to deny what she meant to me was not only to deny my own heart, but to deny the other part of my soul she had unknowingly infused herself with that day. And now she wanted to tear that side of herself from me, for how could she ever hope to survive Hell alone?
I held my breath, as for a single moment she seemed unsure, a hesitation I was desperate to see grow but then in the next heartbeat that damn flicker of hope was ripped from me when a single leaf fell and fluttered to ash. This becoming the only reminder she needed to solidify what she believed was her mission, hardening her resolve like a crust of duty wrapping around her heart.
“AMELIA, WAIT!” My thundering voice had the power to shake the walls, but not enough to stop her as she took her first step forward…I was powerless. Nothing more than a broken whisper of words the moment she finally gave in and looked at me over her shoulder. But it was no use, for the second I saw the unshed tears in her eyes I knew it was nothing more than a goodbye.
“You said you wouldn’t run again,” I uttered with my voice near breaking, making her take a deep shaky breath. Then she told me,
“This isn’t me running, Lucius.” I snarled in anger unable to help myself as I gripped the sides of the tunnel feeling the stone crumbling in my demonic hands. Hands that were changing as my restraint was at an end.
“But don’t you see, it is! It fucking is, Amelia, and you know it!” I snapped back at her with a clench of my teeth and a prick of my fangs as they grew quickly against my bottom lip. The taste of my own blood was a bitterness only reflected by the battle I was losing. For I watched as she straightened her shoulders in that determined way, telling me that I had just lost any slim c
hance I might have had and therefore had to start planning for the worst. Her next words were just a confirmation I didn’t need or fucking want at this point!
“No, this me choosing to save our world,” she replied and I shook my head as I felt the leather of my glove start splitting as it gave way completely to my demon and the symbolic sight wasn’t lost on me. Not considering it was merely a reminder of what started this fucked up road fate decided to force us both down.
“Amelia, I fucking swear to every Gods be damned being out there, that if you do this…”
“But I don’t plan on doing this alone…” my threat was cut short the second she declared this, and my breath caught up in what felt like a throat full of thorns. To the point that I felt powerless to speak when she carried on and cursed me with the full extent of her plan…one that she didn’t yet know would never fucking work,
“Don’t worry, if this all goes to plan, then the second I step through this portal, the barrier will drop and it won’t be goodbye for long, Handsome…As I will see you on the other side.” I barely got out a growl of anger before it was turning into a demonic roar, one powerful enough, that this time when the walls shook, dangerous cracks appeared,
“NO!” I roared in blind fury.
But it was no use, for she had simply stepped…
Straight into my personal Hell.
7
Deal with The Devil
The moment she disappeared was the moment that my demon erupted, doing so just at the very second the barrier evaporated, and my Hellish body responded by storming inside the Temple. Unsurprisingly I was ready to tear the whole fucking lot down with my bare hands if need be.
“WHERE IS SHE?!” I roared as my body leant forward into the bellow of rage, with my wings now stretching out behind me. The Keepers of Three were at least wise enough to flinch away from me as I advanced on them with a fury, that this time, was one that felt like it lit my veins on fire. But their stumbling steps weren’t enough to escape my wrath, for I grabbed a fist full of the robe that the mangled body of three men merged was wearing.
“King of Blood!”
“Lord of Souls!”
“Mmgatser mof mmellish!” they all said in unison as I started to force the tall deformity to walk closer to the entrance of Hell ignoring the struggles of a mass of gnarled muscle and bone.
“TELL ME!” I thundered but the second they all started to shake their heads as one, with what little movement the prison of flesh would allow them, I took action. I kicked out hard enough that it broke bone and shattered the knee cap of one of the strongest legs standing. The Keepers of Three landed hard on the broken floor, one that had been cracked due to the Hellish roots of the Tree of Souls from its growing infection. Two of the three heads howled in agony as their own splintered bones tore through their flesh, and at any other time the sound of pain coming from a being that had wronged me would have been a sweet sound of satisfaction…but not today.
No, gone now was the usual arrogant, cold-hearted bastard, for now I was beyond fucking panicked! Which was why I grabbed the top head, using one of the Keeper’s own hands that were forced into ripping their own ears away, as was part of their cruel twisted curse. This meant that by adding pressure, it caused them to tear further enticing another cry of pain from them. At the same time, I grabbed the one whose fingers were embedded in the eye sockets belonging to the middle head. I then used this punishing hold to position them closer to the portal that had moments ago consumed my Chosen One.
I did this knowing what would be waiting for them should I lose my mind and challenge the Hellish Fates Keeper, in a way that would certainly make them take notice.
But fuck it, if war with Hell was what it would take to get my Chosen back, then so be fucking it!
“Nnnoo…my Lord of…ahhh” I cut off the stuttered and strained sentence with another dose of pain. This was before dragging them even closer, being nothing more than just a thread of fate away from throwing the fuckers back to Hell and letting Lucifer deal with what would be left of his abomination. Because the Keepers of Three had once been men just like I had, and their new beginning had been even more brutal than my own. After I had been turned by Lucifer, it soon became clear that I hadn’t been the first one…I had just been the only success in his warped mission for what he classed as perfection.
In fact, it was unclear just how many failures there had been before me, but I knew for certain that the twisted body of three combined most likely could have been considered the first. However, these were factors I had only learnt many years after my turning, naively believing there were only two of us. Two survived successes with only one of us being suited to rule of the Vampire race.
But then, like most things that included Lucifer and his demonic creations, I couldn’t have been more wrong. The proof of which was currently squirming in my deadly grasp, reminding me of an important lesson...never to underestimate the Devil.
As for the Keepers of Three, I had done my research over the years and like most of us, naturally they hadn’t started off life this way. In fact, they were once known as some of Rome’s greatest warriors. They were named the Horatii and were triplets, which in itself was a marvel of the ancient world due to the higher death rates of multiple births in those times. But then, as legend told it, they weren’t the only ones, for they soon had no choice but to face their Alban counterparts, known as the Curiatii on the battlefield.
This happened almost six hundred years before my rebirth and at a time known as the Kingdom era of Rome. This particular moment in history was during the reign of Tullus Hostilius, who was the third king of Rome, and in a time known as the regal period. It was the earliest period of Roman history, when the city and its territory were ruled by what was considered royal blood. But just like the rest of the ancient world, the power of Kings didn’t come from the blood of Gods but came from the blood spilt on the battlefield from the wars they waged and armies they were so eager to sacrifice in hopes of victory. Mortal lambs often led to the slaughter, dressed up in blood-soaked armour and with nothing more than a blunt sword in their exhausted hand and all in the name of their King. But I had seen enough wars fought to know that the real Kings were those who charged head on into battle, leading the way for their men.
War was a bloody business and not one often fought with the risk of losing its ruler. Men were thought to be expendable and Kings were not. However, this time Tullus Hostilius and its neighbouring city of Alba Longa, both agreed that fighting on the battlefield would be a costly war and would leave the door open for an Etruscan invasion. Neither could take the chance of that happening with what would no doubt have been a great loss on both sides. So Mettius Fufetius, who was the dictator of Alba Longa at the time, decided to appeal to Tullus Hostilius with another idea. A duel to the death, telling him that the conflict should be settled between the Roman Horatii triplets and their Alban counterparts, the Curiatii.
This meant that they met on the battlefield wedged between two armies as their countrymen looked on. And the outcome from such a fight was that all three Curiatii ended up being wounded. However, the losses were far greater on the other side, for two of the Horatii triplets had fallen, leaving only one to fight alone. His name was Publius, the most cunning of all three, using the skill of wit over brute strength. This was put to the test when Publius found himself alone and surrounded by the three Albans.
However, unlike the other triplets, he was uninjured and used this to his advantage, as he knew that he stood no chance against all three at once. So, he turned and ran, using the strength he had over the others to make his way across the battlefield. He did this because he knew that they would have no choice but to pursue him. This achieved two things, both to his great advantage as this chase not only weakened the brothers, making their injuries worse but it also split them up so he could then face each one alone.
His plan had worked perfectly. He turned and launched a furious attack on the first, before easily
catching up to the second and killing him. Doing so as the last brother was left standing and with no other choice but to helplessly look on as his brother was slain. Now spent from both his injuries and the chase, it was said that he died with the honour of confronting a known death, doing so still standing and facing Publius even when knowing his fate. Publius declared that he had killed the first two Curiatii for his fallen brothers and that his last kill was for the Roman cause and what would be their rule over the Albans. A declaration that ended by thrusting his sword down the Alban's throat before then taking the armour of his slain enemies as the spoils of his victory.
After this the Alban dictator Mettius honoured the treaty and Alba Longa briefly had no choice but to accept Roman rule. However, this was not where the story ended, for the reason he was cast into Hell, damning the memory of his brothers with him, came upon his arrival home. You see, the part that was left out of the tale told by historian Titus Livius, who was famous for his retelling of the monumental history of Rome, was the part that no human would know…
The Horatii triplets sold their souls to the Devil.
This was because they knew that they could never win against the other three, knowing of the Curiatii’s many victories and the rumours declaring they were descendants of the Gods. However, jealousy ran deep within the three, and each wanted to be known and remembered as the famous brothers of three for defeating them. So, they made a deal with the ruler of Hell that promised them victory should they sign over their souls as payment, something they did all too eagerly, never imagining that only one would survive and slay the rest.
But the deal was that should even one of them sin after defeating their enemies and killing the Curiatii triplets, that it would condemn them all to a life in Hell the moment the last brother fell. Feeling sure that this wouldn’t happen, they made the deal and Lucifer kept his end of the bargain, for fame was theirs.
Eyes Of Crimson : Vampire Paranormal Romance (Transfusion Saga Book 8) Page 7