by Claire Marta
Coughing violently, I double over with the intensity. An ache radiates through my chest ending in a wheeze. Renfield had ripped the arrows from my thigh and side when I’d collapsed outside the mansion, preventing any more harm. I’m lucky the dose wasn’t stronger, or it may have very well destroyed me. I’ve not healed as quickly as I’m used to. The disfigurement the silver has caused is restoring itself at a snail’s pace.
“Vladimir?”
The quiet call of my name startled me into awareness. “Emma, what are you doing here?”
She stands framed in the doorway a dark outline slightly blurred by the light of the hall spilling in beyond the darkness of the room. Hair an ebony cascade down her shoulders, her eyes are dark blue pools of concern.
“Renfield said you were ill when he phoned to cancel our dinner date this evening. I was worried about you.”
“It’s just a bad case of the flu,” I tell her gruffly. “I apologize I couldn’t contact you myself.”
I’m irritated he’s allowed her into my domain without announcing her presence. My servant knows better than that. The faint aroma of cooked food wafts from the plastic sealed tub clutched between her hands.
Steps tentative she moves toward where I sit, her worried expression steeped in the dancing shadows from the glow of the fire in the hearth. “I’ve brought you some homemade chicken soup. My mother used to make it for me whenever I was sick. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Don’t come any closer,” I bark sharply, tensing in my chair and drawing the blackness around me in a bolstering shroud. “I wouldn’t want you to catch it, dragă mea. Renfield is providing me with the sustenance I need, put your mind at rest.”
Emma flinches at my tone, her pulse racing in my sensitive ears.
It brings a stab of regret. “Forgive me, I’m not a good patient and am rarely ill.”
The healing exposed raw red connective tissue scarring my neck and cheek is not a pretty sight to behold. If she sees me now, all the hard work I have done wooing her will be undone. It’s something I can’t afford to allow. The illusion I’ve seduced her with that I’m human must remain.
“It’s all right. I’m not the best person to be around when I’m ill either,” she confides with a small understanding smile. “I can leave the soup with Renfield. He can heat it up when you get hungry.”
For a moment I study her in the dimness. I sense she wants to say more but holds back. She wears her heart on her sleeve, honest and trusting.
“We can rearrange the dinner in a few days.” Another round of coughing assaults me, hunching my frame forward as I hack into my closed fist. Taking a sharp breath when it finally settles, I flop backward in the chair.
Tip of her tongue darting out to wet her lips, she hugs her offering in the container a little tighter. “I’d like that. I’ll let you get some rest. Goodnight, Vladimir.”
“Good night, Emma,” I respond, watching as she leaves. A strong part of me wishes to call her back. Bask in her beauty and light but I know the hunger will be on me soon. My thirst is yet to be pacified. I cannot risk falling into bloodlust and taking her fragile life in a moment of madness.
I’ve walked through this world like an untouchable god. The truth is I’m vulnerable as any mortal. Tonight has reminded me of that fact.
Helsing needs to die.
My revenge is yet to be appeased. His ancestor took something precious from me once before, and I will not allow his linage to do that a second time. I can’t afford them discovering this woman. It’s time to hunt him down and end his heritage once and for all. Now more than ever. His tricks might have worked once, but when next we meet, I’ll be ready for him.
As if he’s somehow sensed my thoughts, Renfield appears in the doorway with our house guest in tow. Hands and feet chained together, the ball gag in his mouth prevents him from screaming out. As per my orders, he has been left unharmed.
“Master, it’s time for you to feed.” Renfield shoves the man toward me, causing him to stumble and fall at my feet.
Terrified grey/blue eyes stare up at my own.
“You’re a Helsing,” I murmur, picking up the likeness to my nemesis beneath the messy mop of blond hair. “His son or grandson? Not that it matters to me. I have the power to rip every thought out of your skull and make your will my own. That, however, will not happen tonight. As a Helsing, you deserve to be treated as I would be if our roles were reversed. I’m going to torture the knowledge out of you. By the time I’m done, you will know the depths of insanity and agony.”
A muffled whimper issues from his throat.
The leather of my chair squeaks as I sit forward allowing him to see the horrific scars on my face, the flesh slowly knitting together, and the stark whiteness of the bones visible beneath.
“I have cut the breasts from women and fed them to their husbands for insulting me in the past. Impaled my enemies on thick sharp poles,” I continue, feeling my sadistic nature, savoring his reactions. “When lifted upright, their own body weight would slide them downward. It could take them three days to die sometimes.”
Renfield unbuckles the ball gag, tugging it from the hunter’s mouth.
“I’ll tell you anything,” he tells me in a broken sob. “Just don’t kill me please…I don’t want to die.”
And oh, how he sings. Names. Places. Details.
In silence I absorb the enormity of everything he divulges. Dorian was right. Creatures like us need to adapt in this day and age. Perhaps an alliance is required after all.
When his rambling finally subsides, I sit in silence with the sound of his harsh breathing and the crackle of the fire filling the space.
“Will you let me go now?” he whispers, still shaking on his knees before me.
Is he really that naïve?
Nodding at Renfield, I uncoil from my chair. “I’ll set you free.”
Before he can respond, I flip him sideways onto his stomach. Pressing my knee into the base of his spine, I keep him pinned. Chained, he has no way to escape.
“Wait…no. What are you doing?”
Ignoring his shriek, I accept the sword Renfield offers me. Thrusting it through my prisoner’s flesh, I slice him open from tailbone up to his ribcage. Screams fill the room, excruciating and pitiful.
Exchanging my weapon for the axe Renfield hands me, I peel away the skin and separate each rib from his backbone with meticulous precision. The blood eagle is a messy Viking execution. I’ve enjoyed researching such torture in other cultures. With my victim’s internal organs on display, I admire my work, the blood pumping from the wounds I’ve inflicted, ribs spread outward like giant fingers, and his lungs pulled out to give the image of a pair of macabre set of wings on his bloodied back.
Rising I return to my chair sinking into the cushion, crimson still dripping from my hands. I watch in silence as he chokes on his own tongue on the carpet at my feet.
“I want you to watch her, Renfield,” I tell my silent minion, my gaze never moves from the dying man and the exquisiteness of his suffering. “Be my eyes and keep Emma safe if my enemies move to take her.”
Chapter 23
Two days I remain in my temple of solitude until the sound of whispering intrudes on my focus as I read. Lifting my head from the book I’ve been lost in, I observe the couple enter the room. In my corner of the library, I’m hidden in shadows. Only one of them is aware of my presence.
“Sara, we can’t… not here. What if your Uncle finds us?” Charles utters as she drags him further inside. Brown hair a mess, his skin is flushed with carnal excitement. Suit crumpled, the buttons are undone on the front of his shirt.
Lips curving up, I watch my bride in amusement. My blonde-haired seductress has pursued the boy ruthlessly. She loves to tease and fuck him. Draw him ever more securely under her sensual sway.
Sara’s giggle is as soft as tinkling bells. “It makes it more exciting this way.”
The satiny material of her thigh high toga cli
ngs to her slender form. Barefoot and perfumed, she’s any man’s walking perfection.
“Oh, Sara, you’re so beautiful. I’ve never met a woman like you before,” Charles confesses like a love-struck fool.
How quickly he’s forgotten Emma. Led away by his cock into another woman’s arms. He was never worthy of the love she gives him.
Backing him up, Sara grips his hips pushing him down onto a love seat with more vigour than is normal. Charles doesn’t seem to notice her strength. Eyes fixed on hers, the lust dancing in them has him blind to all else.
Dropping to her knees, the petite female coaxes his thighs wide. “I want to touch you, Charles.” Fingers creeping to his belt, she unzips him.
The boy’s worried gaze jumps to the door. “What if someone walks in on us?”
“No one will. Everyone’s out.”
I’m aware she’s done this on purpose. Brought her game somewhere for me to see just to please me. A way of cajoling me from my brooding. Although my wounds have healed, I have not left the boundaries of the library since the night of the attack.
Sitting back, one leg crossed at the knee, I don’t say a word as I enjoy her little show.
Tiny hand pumping his length, she’s practically thrumming with excitement. She takes his cock eagerly into her mouth. Humming in her throat, she sucks and bobs.
Head falling to rest against the headrest of the seat, Charles’ lips part with a groan, his eyes screwing shut. He’s lost to the pleasure. Abandoned all reason, every right and wrong.
The hatred I feel toward him doesn’t ebb, it only multiplies. This traitorous human and his fickle puny heart.
Raising her head, my bride swipes her tongue along the length of his shaft from top to bottom. “Tell me you love me.”
“I do. Oh God, Sara, I love you so much.” Reaching out a shaking hand, Charles threads it through the sleekness of her golden tresses.
She laps cat-like at the pre-cum glistening from his slit. “That I’m your one and only.”
“There’s no one else. I don’t want anyone else but you.”
Sara throws me a mischievous grin. The ends of her fangs peek from her lips.
She’s achieved all that I’ve asked. It’s pathetic how quickly Emma’s fiancé’s resistance crumbled. How could she ever have permitted this wretch into her bed? His loyalty is as vacant as his instincts for danger.
Still gripping his manhood, Sara tilts her head. I see her aim even before her fangs nick the sensitive firm torrid flesh.
Crying out, the boy’s body jerks before sinking back into the pillows of the loveseat. Taking him into her mouth, she hollows out her cheeks as she resumes in pleasuring him.
Neck arching, Charles’ hips press forward, giving her more of the cock she’s already greedily feeding from.
Will he tell Emma that he is no longer hers, I wonder, or will I be forced to show my hand?
Chapter 24
Stepping into the building, my stare cuts over the cargo containers. The building is empty but for an overweight security guard. The light streaming from his office casts long shadows into the blackness. Feet up on a desk, he’s too engrossed with what’s happening on his tv to be aware of my presence.
Hands buried deep in the pockets of my designer trousers, I stroll into the center of the echoing space, inspecting the containers as I go. I count them one by one, moving further into the labyrinth they create.
Footsteps echo down the concrete walls announcing that I am not alone. It’s something I’ve been fully aware of since arriving. The fact that they’ve been tracking my every movement. Biding they’re time. Waiting to isolate me so they can strike. They must consider themselves untouchable, approaching me so fearlessly. Something I must correct.
“You always hunt alone. That’s your first predictable mistake. Where is my son? What have you done with him?”
“You breed like rabbits. I doubt you’ll miss him. He begged for mercy at the end. It was pathetic,” I sneer, turning to confront my adversary.
He’s armed and not alone. A gathering of humans stand with him a mix of males and females. Dressed in combats and carrying high tech weapons, they are a formidable sight. The crossbows containing silver arrows brings a pang of unease I do not let myself show. I’ve not forgotten the pain of the silver. It’s something I have no desire to repeat.
Helsing’s jaw tightens, grief and rage warring over his expression. “I’ll banish you to hell tonight myself. Whatever it takes to rid the world of you once and for all. You’re nothing but a parasite living off mankind.”
“You see me as nothing but something to vanquish. You forget I was once a man,” I point out.
“I know who you were. Vlad Tepes is dead. He’s been so for centuries,” Helsing growls, waving his gun at me. “All I see before me is the soulless spawn of the Devil.”
I quirk a brow. “And there is your mistake. I may not be human, but I am still a prince and tactician. Your mortal lives are nothing but one drop of water in an ocean of time we immortals navigate. My kindred walk among mankind. They carry my blood curse, and when I summon them, they cannot resist. We are not mindless animals as you may think. We know how to adapt and change to hunt our prey as well as our enemies. We will no longer hide and cower in fear from you.”
A swift growing look of realization and horror races over Helsing face.
Before he even has a chance to cry out a warning, vampires swarm out of the shadows at my telepathic call. They cannot deny it. I am the master of them all, and when I command, they must obey even if they are not fully conscious of it.
Glorious chaos descends.
Screams, hisses, and shrieks sound around me. The tempting scent of blood fills the air, the terrified rhythm of human hearts reaching my ears. Vampires explode into dust coating everything in their remains, but it doesn’t stop the rest from attacking. Ammo lasts only so long. All the training in their short lives cannot prepare them for an assault like this. Too used to picking monsters off one by one, this show of force throws them off balance. My children’s wish for revenge against those who persecute us is as strong as my own.
Helsing pulls the trigger on his gun. Anticipating his move, I swing to the left, dodging the bullet with supernatural speed. More follow as he squeezes the trigger over and over. None of them reach their target.
Fangs curling up, another vampire lunges for his throat. Unsheathing his knife, the old man dispatches him with a thrust to the heart. A second comes at him from his right. Yanking out his cigarette packet, he douses her in hidden silver laced spray. Screaming she tumbles to her knees, the flesh of her face melting away.
A smile stretches my lips as I stalk him. Let them strip him of his weapons. Already half of his hunters have fallen. My undead army crawl over them like fat maggots feasting on fresh blood. They have orders to let none live. No playing with their food. No turning them. Tonight, it is a slaughter.
With a shout of anger, a male swings a sword in my direction. The finely-honed steel misses me by inches. From his stance, he’s trained with such a weapon. Redirecting my attention, we circle each other in a lethal dance. He swings again, and I allow him to believe he has me for one brief moment. Eyes widening, they brighten with victory. It’s short lived. Evading the downward arc of the blade, I catch a hold of his wrist breaking it with ease. His cry of pain lures hungry predators his way. Discarding his weapon from his limp hand, I watch him drop under the weight of frenzied vampires.
Returning my focus to my prey, I stride toward Helsing with purpose. Fingers claw at my ankle, causing me to pause. A woman lies by my feet, chestnut colored hair matted with blood, her agonized gaze is pleading.
Raising my foot, I crush her neck under my shoe with no sense of remorse for the huntress as I kill her. She gave my children none.
Dead bodies lay scattered. Death will get his due today. The hunters will learn we are no longer easy pickings for them to terminate at their leisure.
Hissing, prowling,
my brethren surround Helsing. He has nowhere to run. No hole to scurry down and vanish. His allies are no more, and he will be joining them in time.
“You may kill me, but my sons and nephews will hunt you down,” Helsing spits with a building desperation. “You have no idea who you are dealing with. More will come for you.”
The vampires taunt him lunging in to pull away laughing. They know better than to take my prize.
“I intend to enjoy having you in my clutches.” I grin letting him see my extending fangs. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment? I hope you’ve been trained to endure torture. It would be a shame if you broke as easily as your boy.”
Chapter 25
Hesitating outside the door of Emma’s apartment, my fingers flex around the brown paper packaging of the book I’m holding. One from my private collection. A first edition of Frankenstein’s Monster is something I know will bring her delight. Pleasing her has become my ultimate vice.
With the threat of Helsing and his hunters no longer looming over me, I am free to continue courting her.
Only one heartbeat thumps steadily behind the closed door.
The boy is absent. With the projects he is undertaking, I know he has had little time to spare for Emma. With Sara’s persuasive charms, any moments he has had free have been spent in sinful fornication. Now that she has him under her spell, there’s no escape. The petite blonde has brought many a man to his knees with just the crook of her finger.
Tapping on the wood, anticipation grips me so swiftly I feel a moment of dizziness. I feel like a young man again. Eager, nervous.
When the door slowly creaks open, the shy smile that lights up Emma’s face when she greets me is absent tonight. Tear tracks streak her wane cheeks. Eyes red-rimmed from crying, hair a wild mess around her shoulders, she’s barefoot and clothed in an oversized fluffy bathrobe.