FictionPress.com - let the words flow| FictionPress.com - let the words flow |
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
Summary; Warning; Copyright: See First Chapter.
Here's the third chapter, because I feel like it. Heh.
Please review.
Slowly sitting up, Charlotte took a moment to recover her thoughts before standing up and looking around the small room, having slept on a cot the boy had taken her to. There was barely enough room for the cot, let alone the tiny table that was beside it. A candle rested on top of it, held firmly in a brass holder, its light flickering dangerously as she lifted it carefully in her hand. Fully dressed and as rumpled as one would expect after sleeping in their clothing, she hesitated in front of the door, the horror from the night before returning in full force.
Shaking her head, and worsening her wild curls in the process, she took a deep breath and gripped the handle firmly, pushing the door open to find herself in a narrow hallway, doors lining the white walls and leading to another door at the end. Listening carefully and hearing no noises, Charlotte wondered what had happened while she slept, and briefly considered the idea that they had been slaughtered.
“No…I would be dead too,” she assured herself with a whisper, and with a relieved sigh found her cross still around her neck on the thick chain to secure it. Looking down, she realized in surprise her feet were bare, and smiled slightly when she recalled the boy quietly taking her shoes and stockings off as she had fallen into the cot. The thought of the boy only steeled her resolve and she strode resolutely toward the door at the end, ignoring her cold feet in the process.
The candlelight flowed eerily around her, creating a wavering sphere of comfort in the black emptiness around her and making her eyes shine with an unearthly glow as she carefully held the handle for a moment, feeling the cool brass against her fingers like a compress easing a patient’s fever. Realizing she was holding her breath, she exhaled softly and stepped into the room, quickly closing the door behind her as if to block anything that might have been lurking in the shadows.
Taking a moment to look around, Charlotte narrowed her eyes in an effort to see beyond the candlelight, glimpsing something just out of the corner of her vision. Whirling around, she stumbled on something and her skin broke out into gooseflesh when she realized whatever was there was ice cold. Hardly daring to look down, she gasped when the candles along the walls suddenly lit, seemingly on their own, illuminating the room she was in.
With a loud scream, she dropped the candle and covered her eyes in an effort to block out the images, but it was far too late to take the pictures back. The room was filled with corpses of servants, old and young, woman and man, all dead white as if they had been drained of all blood. Their eye sockets were filled with a white film, and black rings encircled the sockets to create a ghastly effect on the one unfortunate to see them.
Charlotte almost passed out as the shock made her feel light-headed, and she believed she heard something moving nearby. Not looking, she went completely still, hoping some monster would appear and end her life quickly and painlessly so she could escape the nightmare she had stumbled into without even getting a chance to understood anything. Something gripped her ankle, and she opened her eyes to see a small corpse child clutching her ankle tightly, looking up at her in supplication. Opening her mouth to scream, but unable to even make a sound, she backed up and tripped in her haste. She tipped backwards, but landed into something that kept her upright.
Turning her head slightly to see what it was, her eyes widened to see one of the Masters behind her, his smile gleaming white in the candlelight. Long, sharp canines drew her attention, and he moved down slightly as if to pierce her skin. With a strange little gasp she fainted dead away, collapsing at the feet of the young man who appeared amused at the horror around him. A second man stood near the doorway, looking displeased at the entire scene, while a thin woman in black remained behind him, a smirk disfiguring her pinched appearance even further.
“Of course not,” Time shook his head, his features wrinkling slightly in his irritation at having been interrupted. It was the first time he was telling someone else about these creatures, having repeated it to himself thousands of times, and was rather enjoying recounting the past.
“Then, what was…”
“Delusions. Hallucinations,” he said, his hand moving impatiently. “Overwhelmed yet again, poor Charlotte. She never had a chance, I realize that now. Out of all them, she was the only one who still had some semblance of faith. Religious faith, I mean,” he added, and Diane tilted her head in confusion.
“So…the Masters…were vampires?” she asked, and he nodded. “And Lydia…she was one of them now?” she prodded, and the corners of Time’s mouth turned downwards slightly as he nodded yet again.
“Yes…she was a…a monster is appropriate,” he finished, seemingly searching for the correct words. “She was indeed obsessed with the idea of immortality, and they had given it to her. However, the process…something in the process stripped her of humanity she might have had, and she was nothing more than a ruthless creature of death. But…we have plenty of story left, Diane.”
Time shrugged as if trying to get rid of an unpleasant itch, and the frown on his face remained when he turned back to look at the teenager.
“What happened next?” she asked, getting the feeling he wasn’t going to continue unless she prompted him to.
“Plenty,” he replied evasively, looking more and more uncomfortable. “I’d rather not go into the specifics of the next ninety-eight years. It’s not something anyone should hear.”
“Menes…was he the one that Charlotte saw?” Diane asked, and he grimaced.
“Unfortunately, yes. He’s the one who woke up and started the whole thing…he turned Lydia the night Charlotte ran. He was the younger of the pair – he has existed a century before Ramses ruled Egypt.” Diane’s jaw dropped at this revelation, and he smiled thinly. “But Diocles was ancient – he may be the oldest to ever exist on this earth.”
“How old?”
“Even before the ancient Mesopotamian societies flourished…created by one worshipped as a dark god whose name is lost to history,” Time shook his head. “Even I have no knowledge of his name, if you can believe that. I’m not quite sure how Diocles and Menes became…partners, for lack of a better word. Menes was created by one called Abubakar, who was in turn destroyed centuries later by Menes. But while Diocles had scraps of human compassion lurking in his demonic soul, Menes…Menes. He was a sadistic creature, enjoying the pain of others and feasting on their tortured blood.”
“And what happened to Charlotte, then?” Diane asked hesitantly, drifting back from the history to the story.
“To be brief, Menes decided to play with her for a bit. Ninety-eight years, to be exact. She was subjected to torture, both emotional and physical. You see, Menes was intrigued by her – someone who didn’t want to die, but didn’t wish for immortality either. So he decided to toy with her, to see if he could possibly understand that concept. Diocles disapproved, but did not interfere.”
“Ninety-eight years…she would have been over a hundred!” Diane blurted out, and the figure before her nodded.
“Yes. However, she stayed young.”
“Did Menes…make her a vampire?”
“No – she was still human. The way to make a vampire is to drain the victim of blood, and fill them with blood from the vampire who drained them,” Time explained. “But Menes infused her with a portion of his blood, without taking any human blood from her. In doing that, he expanded her lifetime enormously – not immortality, but very, very long. So she would stay young and fresh for as long as he wished to amuse himself with her.”
“That’s horrible!” the girl shuddered, and Time allowed himself a slight shiver of his own.
“Indeed. Now, ninety-eight years had passed, with Diocles remaining silent on the matter, while Lydia became a consort, of sorts, for Menes,” he continued. “Needless to say, Charlotte was hardly human herself at this time. Ripped apart emotionally and battered physically, the only words she uttered then was ‘Mother of Christ’ – something which infuriated Menes. However, Charlotte still clung to her humanity and never begged for his blood. I believe that’s what he wanted all along, and he never got it. She pleaded for death, to be sure, but wasn’t going to lose her soul. The vampires, quick to change their attitudes, tired of their centuries-old game with humans and the servants were either slaughtered in the aftermath of that night or sent away without any answers. The mansion became one of death and horror, and the people of Les Sables-d’Olonne grew even more terrified, never leaving their houses once the sun set.”
“They knew?”
“They knew the things in the mansion were not of their Christ, and handed death to whoever they chose to,” Time said dryly. “The ninety-eight years passed, as I said, and it was now late winter of 1420.”
“Do you feel compassion for that girl?” Menes asked in amusement, regarding the taller vampire carefully. Although his pale-blue eyes were calm as ever, something seemed to lurk inside the ancient vampire’s depths, and Menes had the feeling it would not pleasant for him if he found out.
“I tire of your games,” he replied coolly, staring down the other. “You have that other wench – do with her what you will, since she is your creation.”
“Ah, you do not approve of Lydia!” the Egyptian announced dramatically, daring to mock the elder in his strangely-accentuated language. Diocles’ eyes narrowed dangerously, but when he spoke his voice was just as stiff and precise as always, sounding strange with the melodic tones he had always had.
“I do not, but she is made, and there is nothing to be done,” Diocles told him. “You will finish it, or I will take matters into my own hand.”
“Are you jealous, Diocles?” Menes demanded, knowing the accusation would irk the ever-calm vampire to no end.
“Hardly,” the other said dryly, and abruptly turned his back on Menes. “I shall be going now.”
“Do as you will, Diocles,” the brash creature called after him, perfectly imitating the tone of the other. He frowned briefly when there was no reply, and half-rose out of the chair he was perched in when Lydia swept in. The years as a vampire had only encouraged the growth of her cruel streak, and her features, though exactly the same as the day she had been created, gave one the impression of an ancient horror, something not even Menes or Diocles had.
“Is he bothering again about that girl?” the female purred, sitting down on her creator’s lap and putting her arms around his neck. Although she would not admit it, she was jealous of Charlotte, unable to reach a satisfactory conclusion why her maker was so preoccupied with her.
Menes only laughed dryly and wrapped an arm around her waist possessively, a gesture which she rewarded by lowering her head and kissing the twin scars that marked the spot where Menes had been pierced with ancient fangs.
“If it didn’t annoy him so much, I might have killed her years ago,” he murmured, his lids drooping as Lydia continued her ministrations to his neck. “But he hardly ever gets so irritated – it’s a bit fun to watch him, in fact.”
“Of course it is,” she agreed, having no love for Diocles, who had been furious Menes hadn’t merely killed her off that night. Menes didn’t reply, and his hand moved to cup her breasts tightly, causing her to gasp and give him a coy look. He only shot her a grin, revealing his canines, before bearing down on her, pleased at the moans his touch could elicit from the female on his lap. As the heat rose between them, they were suddenly interrupted by Diocles, who showed no emotion whatsoever at finding them together again.
“What’s that look for?” Menes demanded, sensing something off about the vampire.
“She is turned,” Diocles said shortly, and Lydia cried out in protest when Menes shoved her to the side as he jumped to his feet, appearing inches from Diocles in less than a second.
“What do you mean?” he growled, but Diocles only looked down at him dispassionately. The white-blond haired vampire reached almost five inches over six feet, which gave him a certain advantage when dealing with Menes, who barely reached six feet himself.
“After you gave her that blood, it is impossible to kill her in a natural way,” Diocles said shortly. “I turned her. You will no longer have anything to do with her, do you understand? She is one of us now, and if either of you attempt any mistreatment, you will answer to me,” he warned, his gaze resting on Lydia for a long moment, only leaving her when she visibly gulped down her fear. Menes’ dark eyes glowed bright in rage, but he knew in a battle of strength the millennia-old Diocles would kill him easily.
“As you say, then,” he muttered, managing a twisted smile and taking a step back from the angry creature.
“It had better be,” Diocles agreed, before disappearing from the room in the next instant.
“That bastard!” Menes roared, not caring if the vampire heard him or not. “She was mine – mine only to decide what to do with,” he growled a bit quieter, his hands clenched into tight fists. Lydia approached him and began to stroke his black hair reassuringly, hoping to pacify him.
“She will be weak,” she began, but he turned on her with a fury she had never seen him in.
“Diocles made her, you stupid bitch!” he shouted. “His power will be hers – his strength hers! In time, she will surpass both of us,” he finished, losing momentum and ending the thought on a quiet note.
“He was speaking the truth when he spoke of killing her – with Menes’ immortal blood, very few things could harm her, and most that were able to harm vampires as well,” Time told her. “So he turned her, being unable to do anything else. He disapproved of the act, but wasn’t going to put up with Menes’ sadistic ways for any longer. He was the more powerful one, remember – Menes couldn’t do a thing to Diocles, or to Charlotte, now that she was created by Diocles.”
“Was Menes right – was she powerful?”
“Of course – the older and stronger a vampire is, the stronger the offspring will be,” he nodded. “And just as Lydia was Menes’, so Charlotte was Diocles’.”
“Oh…Jesus…” she moaned, hiding her head underneath her hands in shame. The vampire had taken her by surprise – she had not seen him since the night he and Menes had discovered her and slain the servants – and had prayed he had come to kill her. However, he had not spoken a word, but drawn her to him in a sudden rush, and she didn’t even have time to cry out in surprise or pain before his fangs pierced the tender skin on her neck, drawing the blood from her body. She had never struggled, growing limp and almost faint when he had drained her, and could barely see him when he leaned back and stared down at her critically before speaking.
“Drink, or you will die,” he had told her coolly, tearing a gash in his own wrist and keeping his gaze on her face. She had seen the blood flow with a morbid fascination, and watched as it stained the clothing they both wore while he remained perfectly still. After a moment, a sudden horror had gripped her and the fear of dying was more than she was able to bear. She had tried to say something, but only a strangled gasp passed her white lips. Diocles apparently knew what she wanted though, and had brought his bleeding arm to her lips and pressed into her mouth, silently urging her to drink.
The warm blood had felt like fire going down her throat, and bright lights flashed in her mind as life flowed back into her dying body, bringing with them memories from Diocles’ own mind. The images merged with her own mind, becoming one and the same instantly. The blood brought with it more than simple life – a new awareness surrounded her, and the knowledge that Diocles was now, and forever, her God didn’t even seem like blasphemy as their consciences become one more completely than flesh ever could. A pounding began in her ears, and she became deaf to everything other than the beating of his heart.
Diocles’ face had remained stoic as she drank, watching as the color returned to her face and aware of a pleased feeling, knowing he had deprived Menes of his plaything. A weakness began to wrap itself around him and he realized that he had given all the blood that was necessary to revive her, as well as ensure she would be able to survive almost anything now. Wrenching his wrist from her mouth, he stared coolly at it as the gash closed up in seconds, and then turned to the young woman. Her entire body shaking and her eyes were bright as a new light erupted within her. The moment lasted for what seemed like a very long time to the pair, as Diocles watched with a certain fascination as the female before him absorbed the blood he had given – the only blood he had ever given in his lifetimes. As the realization of what happened reached her mind, however, she suddenly cried out in horror and drew back as if he had hit her, the tears mingling with the blood on her face and forming grotesque tears of blood that streaked her face.
“What…you…” she had managed, before collapsing in a fit of agonized screaming. Diocles had swiftly risen to his feet, observing her for a moment before disappearing from the cell in the same manner Menes had – he just wasn’t there the next moment.
The immortal blood fed her body like mother’s milk nourished a child, and she was aware of the subtle changes within her as clearly as she was aware of the taste of blood still on her lips, or the sudden feeling of comfort, unable to feel either heat or the chill of the cell. These things did nothing to comfort her, however – they merely drove her deeper into despair, as she tried to understand why she had sold her soul to him.
