It was as if time had stopped...
Was it the sick thought of monstrous blood rushing through her veins that brought this eternity to feel ironically as long as it always sounded? Eternal? The days were long and she was left locked within her room with drawn drapes over the large windows and the black velvet curtains that hung about the canopy frame. It was if being trapped within a large cocoon, as if when the night came she would be born into something new. Something more beautiful, more wondrous, something that one would be drawn to and not taken too...
But any step into a more wondrous life had instead followed the fading image of her in the mirror. Eva's body had become a shell of the image of a woman that once lived happy with herself, with the world she had grown up with and changed to adapt. Now her soul, if such things existed, was trapped within this heartless shell where blood was cold and yet needed in this life. Was it even considered a life? Does that term actually justify the way a living-dead vampire lives? Or is it now considered a death. She was living a dead life.
Minutes became hours, hours became days, days became weeks, weeks became months. The minute hand of the clock seemed to crawl across the face of the clock, torturing Eva's mind and showing her how long eternity could really be. Hidden behind the drapes of her room or cadged in stone walls and large barred windows with three meals a day of blood and maybe other liquids of choice, and then left alone to wander the castle walls. Sometimes, there would be trickery by the elder count, but for the most part, ever since the transformation he had rarely showed his face.
No matter... she would rather not have to see her reflection in those cruel crimson orbs... How many others had he dragged into this castle and made into his meal? Where there more women that fell under the spell of his eyes and made into a contradiction against death?
Why was the castle so... empty?
It was very empty too. Other than a couple servants, and the count himself, most never passed her even during her exploration. Ever since the night he promised to teach her to be a Night Walker, he had barley showed his face. She ate dinner alone, which was a bowl of blood taken, most likely, from some unsuspecting victim; a donator who wasn't suspecting to die in the process. Someone else that became a puppet within those crimson eyes and lost their own control as each red string attached to every limb and every surface: outside and inside. Once one looked into the count's eyes, they were lost within those orbs and he slipped the first string into their mind. Then, with each word, with every move, every emotion, every thought, a string slipped about their body, somewhere, making them into a puppet. By the time they realized it, they were so tangled in string there was no way out.
Because they can't die. That was the worst part, there wasn't even an easy way for Eva to release herself. Even in the most desperate attempts to try and free herself from the count, the wound would be lost within moments. Slicing her wrists, slicing her throat, stabbing herself with her own swords, she had tried them all. The wound vanished and the lost blood never effected her; there wasn't even a scar. She was trapped within the dead shell of her own body with no way of knowing how she could die...
Wandering the halls did nothing more than engrave the horrid situation into her mind. Her head was so trapped by Count Viedma, by what he had done to her, that she barley realized she had secluded herself from reality. If only she could be a Frankenstein and kill her creator, then maybe this eternal life would not be as horrid as it felt. But he couldn't die either, she had tried that and broke her wrist; another strange wound that healed within a day at most.
This isn't right.... Eva thought to herself, This is so unfair... I deserve to die naturally... to join my parents... A finger twirled about the golden cross that still dangled from her neck with the one ruby gem in the center, surrounded by a lace of silver. It was the final piece she had of her entire family, the necklace of her mother which she pulled from the bloody body of her mother's-
"I must stop thinking of such thing..." Eva said softly with a bit of disgust in her eyes. It was not that she did not want to remember such images of her childhood. It was funny how such horrid images of blood covered parents would not scare a child of blood, or of death, but more or less push her more and more to want to kill. But not only kill, to kill the man who committed the crime and only received a life sentence. Even he wasn't put to death for his crimes. "If only..."
Another sigh came to her lips as she dropped the entire thought of her parents, their killer. It was not good to be so stuck in the past, yet a future seemed just as useless. Trapped behind stone walls for just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like an animal in a cage with no escape, yet again. But for once... she doesn't know what side of the bars she is actually on. Being caught in one world while trying to escape the other, was she looking out or looking in? Was she trapped or had she escaped?
"You think too deeply...." the deep, seductive voice of Count Viedma floated into the ears of young Eva. It sent chills up and down her spine, the voice of an incubi just before taking his prey, and yet a calm soothing feeling came there after. Like a narcotic drug with a temporary sugar rush and then is soon followed by that deep and tired withdrawal. She could feel his breath crawling down her neck, smokey fingers entwining about her throat and holding the nerves of her body so no feeling could follow and everything seemed dreamy, airy.
With the count, nothing seemed real. Everything seemed like some elaborate dream...
"What do you want with me...?" Eva asked with a bit of malice in her voice, soon turning about to face him. She even stared into his eyes, with cold, icy hatred shooting from those crimson orbs she acquired. "Why did you choose me? Why me? Why did you create me like this instead of killing me off from eating me? Why!?"
"You intrigued me...."
A gloved finger pressed against the rebelling lips of Eva's mouth and soon silenced her. It was quick, yet calm motion from the count that came from a time of nobility and not of violence, he truly was a man of his word, a man of his time, whenever that was... Though the woman wished to scream at him, continue to throw her anger right in his face and soon turn fowl language into violent actions, she would probably be thrown against the wall, pinned and taken as fodder for his desire.
"Tell me Eva..." The count continued with the young girl silenced, "Why do you find yourself trapped here? The image of the life that you had was far better than the one you can have now?" His fingers began to outline the curve of her cheekbone, holding it softly in his hand to make sure she stayed silent, still watching and listening. "Would you like to make your own world? Make everything your own, your devils, your gods, your living, your dead? Create this large illusion of a world that does not exist as you rest alone, and hide in the dreams... You make things as worse as they seem, especially when you learn that you could have all that you wish now at your fingertips.... You have become a death bringer..."
"What do you mean...?" Eva asked curiously even though his hand still held her jaw. The tight was not so harsh that he had locked it shut, but enough to keep her from an outburst. There was only so little she could do, so small the steps she could take. This was just another step...
The count, again, smiled. But for once, it was not that demonic smile, that taunting grin or that cocky smirk. No, this was a smile, as one as desperate for Eva could define as a smile: soft, delicate, and happy. Even with those pale lips in a body of the living dead, Viedma seemed to know how to make such a smile. And if it was a ploy of deception, like all the other speeches and words, like the entire count himself, it was fooling her.
Again Viedma did not speak, did not reply to her in any sort of words, but instead a motion. Unexpectedly, and out of character in the mind of Eva, he brought out his arms and wrapped them about the young girl and pulled her close to him. The long black fabric of his sleeves created a veil about her body, and his long black hair a curtain on the sides of her face. Being a head taller, it was easy for him to pull her close and press her head against his chest. There was no heart beat, even with her ear pressed softly against the area where the heart would rest, there was no beat, no sound of breathing that she felt. But what Eva thought she felt, was warmth.
It was shocking. For the first time, Viedma seemed to show more emotions than she had ever known. It was a motion not well taken with men of evil, and yet there she was, entangled in the soft hug of the vampiric count. There was no motion for her neck, or even another motion at all. In that one moment, Eva felt...
"What do you wish for most.... Eva..." The count asked with a soft tone, unlike his seductive whisper. It was airy, light, a tone well kept with a parent soothing a young child. Of course, it was still the demon talking, and yet he seemed more angelic than ever before. "What? Fame? Glory? Money? Power?"
"Death..." Eva muttered softly while staring off into space. Her eyes seemed dim for a moment, that bright fire in her eyes seeming to fade, to become nothing more than a dark, faded red. There was sadness welled in those eyes, surrounding the flame that was still trying to spark. Though the comment would well be assumed she wanted to die more than anything, it was not that.
"You want to kill who has killed..." Viedma replied in a soft tone, knowing her wish without having to ask. He had the power to know her thoughts, memorize her feelings. Even from a young age that was her desire, to see the man that wrongfully slaughtered her parents suffer the same fate, or worse. And why not? Each human, dead or alive, wishes for revenge against some wrong. Even now the face of her killer still lay within her mind, burned into her memory as he gave her the same death glare. That cocky grin, those vicious eyes with no remorse, only greed.
And he would fulfill that desire... The count was already planning his strategy. Finding the man would be easy, as well as getting Eva into a high security prison in Greece. For months, without knowing, she had been practicing her own powers, just for this moment too. Slowly his hands moved from that soft and gentile hug, curving down the sides of her arms and taking hold of her pale, cold hands. The smile of pure, soft innocence grew with a happy, peaceful look which was odd to Eva, and yet she was just held within the grasp of his calm gaze.
"Yes..." was all that Eva could softly mutter while staring into his eyes. But for a moment, she felt blind. Everything the count had ever said, every movement he made seemed to have directed her body in any way he wished. The entire time, during all those months that she stayed with him, feeling trapped alone, she really wasn't. It was as if she was not a captive, but more a child, in which he kept his hand over her eyes and lead her from behind with a soft and lifeless grip. But being blind wasn't so bad, not knowing what to do was not so horrid. There were no worries about what was in front of her, because she couldn't see.
Viedma began to tug on her soft hands as he stayed facing her, allowing her to move at her own pace yet following his own steps. No words crossed between them, only the soft patter of their footsteps on the stone floor, that seemed to become nothing more than silent whispers in the dark hall. The count couldn't see the wall that was coming up behind him as he walked, and Eva opened her mouth to speak so that he didn't look silly backing up right into a wall, but she didn't have to speak, she didn't have to tell him at all. She was the blind girl, being lead by the man with a million eyes.
His body began to mold within the stone. The dark covers of his long robe like attire turned into pitch black shadows with no light or shading, and swayed with only the motion of his own body. Stone seemed to turn to liquid just about the form of his body, rippling as he moved into it, and his body seemed to turn into darker shadows while entering the dark realm behind him. Soon his skin took the same shade of shadowy black as his outfit, and the white gloves, holding Eva's hands, began to shift the same color, crawling up her fingertips like a wave of shadows. Yet she felt nothing, even as her hands entered the watery surface that was once stone, it felt as if walking into a plain doorway. Then all became darkness as she disappeared within the stone, which returned to normal, and all she could catch were his blood red eyes leading her through the darkness.
Then his grip became like the shadows he had faded into the darkness, those blood red eyes following the shadowed mist, and left her alone as she continued walking. For a moment, she was still blind, until coming to light. It was not day light no, but more the lights of a building, dim and flickering. The walls were no longer made of stone, but cement, covered with old gray paint that was peeling, and the floor no longer marble but the same gray cement. It was a corridor, thin with a tall ceiling, and two doors on each side that closed both ends with heavy metal and thick bars.
But to Eva's amazement, without thinking for very long she knew exactly where she was. It was a prison, and by the sound of the voices and how they spoke, she knew it was a prison in Greece. She had never learned Greek, but it was very easy for her to recognize some of the words spoken. She could hear everything... The sound of the guards men calling out to the prisoners, the shuffle of dragging feet across the cement floor, the mumbling and grumbling of men of different ages and places. One voice caught her attention, which soon added to the smell of recognition that wafted underneath her nose. Throughout the prison, with cells filled with prisoners ready for the night, she caught the one she was seeking for.
As the lights flickered off completely to welcome the night that had arrived, it signaled her to move, and move quickly she did. Eva's footsteps were silent against the cement floor, and she was like shadow within the darkness, even with her blood red hair flowing behind her. The door before her, nothing at all but a solid objet that could easily be manipulated. Without moving, without even slowing down, her body continued at it like a bull stomping forward ready to strike, and like the stone wall that she had passed through before, she moved through the door like a shadow and continued without stopping. She was careful to where she stepped, and avoided gaze of camera men or the glimmer of light that came from guards at every cost. There was no fear of death, there was no fear of being caught, it was failure that Eva feared now. She would not loose this chance.
Down the line of cells she dashed without being noticed by any of the sleeping prisoners. She jumped the gaze of guards, and hug low beneath moonlight. One section after another, one stone obstacle and the next, she kept moving at a steady pace while keeping like the form she had arrived in; a shadow. Human eyes were too slow and too foolish, while hers were wide and perfect, being able to see every inch of the dark and dank prison as if the high noon sun was overhead. Her hearing was perfectly acute to movement, and the soft sound of breath that stayed undisturbed. Even the tempting heartbeats almost turned her away from her target, but never covered the loud beat of her targeted victim. Now the hunted had become the hunter.
Cell 328, the eighth cell on the second floor within the third building, that is where he had been trapped for over 10 years for murder, and would not serve the next 15. He looked the same as when she had first seen him all those years ago, sleeping there in his cot that had little cushioning and a single flat pillow, unaware of who's eyes were watching him within his own cell. Blood red eyes that wished for his death more than anything, just out of pure, cold revenge.
"Godspodin Alexander..." Eva spoke up softly while standing in the shadows, letting almost nothing be seen but her blood red hair flowing in the breeze that whipped about in the cell, and her beating crimson eyes. Her words quickly stirred him from his sleep, and the man burst up from his bed to see the young girl standing there, and almost screamed. But he stopped, his breath caught in his throat by a grip that was not seen, and now the blind girl had her own pray trapped.
"Krev za krev... krov za krov..."
Within moments Eva was upon him. Her arm thrust out to take his fearful face with her hand and clutched tightly to it, threatening with her strong grip to crush his face. Yet again he tried to scream; scream for help, scream for salvation, but all words were caught in the throat, as well as his blood. It was the spot she was most focus on as she felt him struggle beneath his grip, but she left him with hands and feet that were like stone, unable to lift anything. For a moment she paused, staring to that spot as she could hear the rush of blood up to his face, through that primary artery that brought it straight from the heart. Then the hunger rose... the desire to have that blood beneath his veins, to have it. It was hers.
Another second passed and once again Alexander tried to scream for god, for salvation from this fear, or to wake from this dream, though it was no scream. The fangs beneath her upper lip began to grow, and extend into fangs in which her tongue laced with saliva, ready for the bite. Slowly, temptingly, teasingly keeping herself from the neck. Then the bite, right down hard into that main artery, her fangs piercing the neck and directly into the tube which soon filled her mouth with that filling sensation of live blood, warm and fresh. It was as if drinking from the fountain of youth, for everything afterwards felt alive throughout her entire being. She bit harder, and deeper, ripping away skin so that blood tainted her lips and face, and drank it down in greedy hunger. Alexander had already drown in his own blood, and yet she drank down the scarlet liquid, ripping more and more away from the neck and blood spread up and down his entire body.
Eva then pulled away. For a moment, fear filled her face as she looked at the corpse. She trailed her finger over the scarlet surface of his face, lifeless and cold, covered with the liquid that was meant to be beneath the skin. The entire look of the scene gave the illusion that his neck had been ripped open from the inside, and exploded his juices all over his entire body. But she couldn't stop it.... what could she do? She had to, she wanted to.
'It's not your fault,' the calm voice of Viedma filled her mind, echoing in her brain with that litheness in his voice, 'There was nothing that you could have done... You know as well as I did that you needed it, desired it...' His voice was calm, as always, and filled her mind though she was nowhere near where she sat with the dead corpse, she knew his eyes were watching, those blood red eyes.
"B-but... I... I never... he deserved more than that.... much more suffering..." a growl grew beneath her stumbling words, having trouble placing the right words in the right places. Then she gave up speaking, feeling her anger rise to an eventual breaking point. With tight fists and words of malice in Russian tongue, she began to slam her hands on the dead corpse, beating it over and over again while her red stained lips spilled droplets of blood upon his face, as well as the tears of scarlet that leaked from her own crimson orbs.
'What was it that you said in Russian Eva...?' Viedma asked inside her mind, like a dark conscious, laying inside and smiling at her anger and hatred.
For a moment, her mind froze as she overlooked the empty eyes of the man's corpse that lay in front of her. There were strands of red hair still laced about his skin that was mixed with his own blood, and she trailed the strands as if a path right back to his eyes. For a moment, she didn't speak, she couldn't speak, she couldn't move. All she could see were those dead eyes... Did hers look like that she asked herself? Did she have the same cold dead look in her eyes?
"Bread for... bread... blood for blood..."
Eva soon rose from her seat as she could hear the pitter patter of security guard feet for a man who called for trouble in cell number 328. The shadow that entered the cell soon left as one, leaving a trail of blood while red tears trickled on the ground. She was not crying for the death of the murderer, nor the death of her own parents. For once, she was crying for her death, because now this murderer was closer to her parents than she would ever be...
At the end of the spectrum of shadows, through the walls of black, she found Viedma on the other side. There was no emotion on his face at all. It was as if a clear silhouette of a man as he stood before Eva. Eyes soft and cold, lips parallel to the ground, and only looking into her own, instead of piercing and probing. The two followers of the path of the undead stood before each other with no emotion striking either's face while the smell of blood flourished the halls.
Then suddenly, the count moved towards Eva, his footsteps silent against the marble floor, and his flowing figure gave him the illusion that he was a shadow floating above the floor, moving like water instead of a man. He hovered over her, above her, with piercing crimson eyes that were cold as stone. Then they softened, dimmed, and his watery movements became solid as he took the young russian woman into his arms, and she quickly took shelter under the shadowy veil of his clothing, and cried. It was not soft sobs of hidden pain, or the flowing tears of an unknown sadness. No, for once, Eva broke, shattered, letting down all defenses and every piece of her stone shell, and allowed her crimson tears flow into his attire while he cradled her softly.
"Congratulations Eva.... you are now... a night walker..."
Months would pass since the incident, and the castle walls would have no russian within the walls. After learning of who she was now, and how to work with her fears and her pains, Eva finally left the castle to travel among men as a night walker. The count did not shed any tears for her leave, or, during it at least. Did Viedma feel real feelings for young Eva? It was a question that would never be answered, as the wave of blood red hair left the gates of the castle out into the world.
Everyone that dealt with her left as well... and the castle seemed to fade into seclusion with only the company of Viedma and his servants, who asked little and were curious of nothing.
The day would turn to night, and with his loneliness and boredom took his leave from the castle walls. He moved among the tree's like shadows, his eyes watching the starry light filter through the branches and leaves of somewhat dead tree's, and all was at ease. For a moment, he stopped, taking in the air which he could not taste, and feel of the breeze against his skin which remained cold as always. But something else caught his attention...
Viedma's eyes followed a flash of red, which he assumed to be hair, and soon made haste in shadows to find the owner. For a moment, the young face of Eva flashed before his mind, and some sort of feeling filled his heart. Was it sadness? He could not tell. He had been dead and alone for so long, that all emotions became like water, and soon evaporated from his memories. But not Eva, she never did leave his head, as much as he had tried too.
When he stumbled upon the owner of the red hair, he found it was not Eva. No, she was younger. The hair was the same glowing color of fiery red, flowing behind her motions like a banner of silk, and surrounded her pale features that made her look somewhat like a china doll. She had blue-green eyes which darted in every direction, like a lost child and yet with knowledge that she could not find. For a moment, he stood there in the shadows, unnoticed, and watched her staggered movements, like the hunter looking for their pray, or the hunted finding a place to hide. Like Eva, her emotions were strong, cold, like stone, and left no area about her defenseless.
"You're name is... Eros..." the count said softly to himself as he gazed upon her. He kept analyzing her for quite a bit, following after her every step without taking one himself, and never being found though her eyes were all over the place. A smile crawled onto his face, a demonic smile that laced about his lips as he suddenly became the hunter.
"Welcome to the game Eros..."