Aleister Crowley was a lonely man. Ever since his grandfather died and left everything to him, he had only that. The mansion and what was in it.
Aleister Crowley was a poor man. No one would agree but it was true. Taking in his surrounding and the possessions around him, he noted with a pang of bitterness that nothing within these walls belonged to him. They all were his grandfather's.
Aleister Crowley was a coward. He stayed within his mansion, shying away from the sun, the town and everything that was outside the confining walls that surrounded him.
Aleister hated everything about himself. He hated who he was, what he was.
Aleister Crowley was a monster. In his eyes and in the eyes of the town's people.
He craved for blood and he killed for it.
From his window he stared out, his eyes landed on the eight crudely made crosses. He knew what lay beneath them. Eight humans lay buried underneath the earth and beneath the tomb stones. Eight men and women who had their blood sucked dry and images came flashing back and he turned away from the window.
Pale white pupils within dark eyes and pulsing veins haunted his memories. Aleister gripped his head and squeezed his eyes shut, his poor attempt to block out the gruesome memories.
A knock on the door made him look up and break out of the nightmare. A beautiful blonde stood there, balancing a tray on her right hand and her left hand on the door.
"Aleister, are you okay?" Eliade asked, worry flashed in her eyes. He nodded, then shook his head. He didn't know the answer. Eliade walked over and with every step, Aleister could feel his craving for blood spike.
Gasping, he jumped away from her. The monster in him wanted her blood. The woman he loved with every fibre in him, the woman who had accepted him for who he was, the woman who loved him back.
Growling under his breath, he ran out of the room, desperate to get away from her before he lost control. It hurt him to run from her, but it would hurt more if he actually hurt her, or even killed her.
He gripped the rails of the balcony that was above his grandfather's most prized garden. As if sensing his presence, the gigantic plants looked up expectantly. Aleister brushed away the tears he had unknowingly shed and walked down the stairs. It was calming when he tended the garden. He didn't share his grandfather's passion for the plants but he loved them for being there.
Before Eliade had shown up he had only the plants to talk to, had only the plants to keep him company. And he would never forget that.
He picked up he watering can and began the tedious job of watering the plants. Smiling as he went about, he knew that this would take him hours and that would mean he wouldn't need to see Eliade until much later. Hopefully by then, his blood craving would have ended.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Eliade was vain. She knew it herself and she was not ashamed to admit it. She knew she was beautiful. The men that had crowded around her, craving her attention proved it. But the monster inside her made her ugly. She hated that part of her.
No matter where she went, men flocked to her side like moths to a fire. And they died by her hands in droves. The blood that splattered on her face, the blood that stained her hands and the blood that landed on her clothes made her pull her lips back in disgust. It made her so ugly yet the urge to kill overwhelmed her.
She tucked a stray hair behind her ear as she watched the man she loved run from her. Aleister Crowley. Eliade thought back to their first meeting. Beneath the moon and surrounded by the trees, Eliade couldn't help shiver a little at the memory. Aleister had nearly killed her on the spot, controlled by his urge for Akuma blood, driven to kill under the influences of the Innocence.
But something stilled his hands. And for once, Eliade felt something Akuma's weren't supposed to feel. The blood red eyes that bore into hers seemed so full of sadness and despair yet the killing intent was evident behind them. It was…beautiful.
'You're beautiful…'
It had come out of the man that was about to kill her like a ghostly whisper. The same man she was supposed to kill. But she wanted to stay by his side, to be beautiful just for him. Eliade found it harder and harder as the days went by to harm, to kill the man. She just wanted to be by his side.
Eliade, the Akuma, loved Aleister Crowley. Just like the skin of the woman she wore who had signed the contract with the Millennium Earl to call back her beloved.
And that love would end, either by his death or hers. Eliade didn't know which she'd prefer but she knew it would happen. Sooner or later.
Picking up the tray she walked out of his room, a single tear escaping down her cheek.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
The sun had set hours ago but Aleister stayed in the garden, his hand stroking the plant that had lain it's bud on his lap, light snoring coming from its slightly opened tip. It was nearly time.
Sighing, he gently nudged the bud off his lap and got up. It wouldn't do to upset the whole garden. Sweeping his cape behind him he headed out, teeth already aching for blood and flesh. He wanted so badly to break the cycle, wanted so badly to reject the monster inside him but he knew if he didn't hunt at night he would most certainly hurt the one he didn't want to most. Eliade's beautiful face flashed in his mind and his resolve hardened. It was better to be a murderer of people he didn't know and didn't like him than kill the woman that loved him. It hurt less.
He tried to swallow the lump in his throat but it was stuck and he wondered when all this torture would end. They did say vampires were immortal.
Aleister Crowley howled at the full moon in anguish, the thought of eternal hell was daunting and it hurt, it hurt so much. So much.
But the man wiped the tears that flowed from his eyes and ran full speed towards the village that was just below the hill. It was time to hunt, to sooth the aching of his teeth and the blood thirst that always seemed to be insatiable.
The nights air was cold and it stung his cheeks as he raced downhill. Suddenly a rustling nearby caught his attention and he leaped up into a tree. It was the villagers. And two strangers. They smelt…different. But that wasn't what caught his attention. No. It was the smell of delicious blood from a certain man within the crowd.
Aleister's throat constricted and became dry, as if he hadn't had water for days in a desert and his teeth craved the feeling of biting into flesh. He crouched lower and pounced. Deftly landing nearby, he ran ahead, appearing nothing more than a blur of black and a streak of white as he snatched the man and jumped away, already biting into the soft flesh of the human.
The tangy bitterness of blood hit his taste buds and he let loose a bloody grin in satisfaction. It was soothing, calming his nerves and the hunger. And it gave him so much power. Aleister Crowley, under the hypnotic spell of power and satisfaction of quenching his thirst felt unstoppable, was unstoppable.
He turned his blood red eyes to the remaining villagers, wanting to smile in triumph, to gloat, when the look of horror in each of their faces seemed to stop him in tracks. And then reality kicked in. He stared down at the limp figure in his arms, pale white and lifeless, his eyes glazed over. Choking back a sob, he turned and raced back. Back to his mansion where he was safe from those fearful eyes, back to his room where he was safe from temptation and back to Eliade where he could seek comfort and reassurance. And love.
Yes, he needed Eliade. Now and forever. Aleister knew, deep in his heart that he needed that beautiful woman beside him and he would do all he could to keep her by his side. Nothing, nothing would get in their way. Not even death.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Eliade knew immediately something was wrong from one glance at the hunched figure of Aleister Crowley. It wasn't that she knew the man well. It was because of the sobbing and the shaking of his shoulders.
"Aleister?" Her voice carried through the room and echoed, and she could hear the uncertainty and worry in it. Looking around, Eliade noticed the body. Ah, another one. She felt no compassion for her fallen comrade, merely raised a perfectly shaped lip at it in distain. Walking over to the sobbing man, she placed a dainty hand on his shaking shoulder, leaning in to embrace the man. It was all the comfort she could offer him. If she were anyone else, she would've been heart torn to see the man she loved grieving so but she was happy. The more Akuma he killed, the longer she had to spend time with him, the longer she could lie to the Millennium Earl and the longer she can put off killing Aleister.
Arms came up to wrap around her and Aleister buried his head at the nape of her neck. Eliade stilled, fearing for her life. As much as she wanted to believe in him, Aleister was still a host for an Innocence and it would be stupid of her if she let her guard down.
"I…" the weeping man began and Eliade tuned in to listen, "I killed another one. I'm a monster, Eliade." The blonde stroked his hair, knowing it was soothing for him.
"Yes, Aleister, you are a monster. That's why we stay away from the villagers. They don't understand you and they fear you. That's why we're left alone. But you're not alone anymore. I'm here, I'll always be here. For you," Yes, that was true. Eliade wanted that to be true. Even though she was destined for hell, she wanted so badly for God to grant her this one selfish wish. To always be with him. Her eyes looked up, unseeing and glazed, and her mouth pulled back into a bitter smile. As if God could do anything. She had a better chance of staying with Aleister if she asked the Earl. God was powerless. For the Akuma, the Millennium Earl held absolute power over their life.
Sighing, she gently pulled herself away from the man.
"I'll go bury the body. Rest a bit, I'll be back soon." The Akuma whispered, slowly picking herself up from where she knelt. Crowley didn't answer, only nodded in response.
Walking out, Eliade dragged the body by one of its ankles, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. The surface of the floor sizzled and crumbled as the poison in the blood ate away at the wood. She paused, mid step. It wouldn't do to ruin her beloved's mansion. Sighing, the beautiful Akuma bent down and swiped the remaining blood away with her hand. Unfeeling eyes stared at the blood on her hands, reminding her of the times she had killed. It reminded her just how bloodstained her hands were. And Eliade knew there were more to come. It was a never ending vicious cycle and she was trapped for all eternity.
Wiping her hands onto the dead body, she lifted it like a sack and made her way towards the section of the mansion that housed Aleister Crowley's plants.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
This is the first instalment of Blood. Second part will be up soon. Hope you like it. For now it will sound like it's just a retelling of the manga but I really hated the way things went so…I'm here to change it.
Drop a review to let me know what you thought of it, Yay or Nay. I'm open to all opinions though I would prefer you to hold back flames. I don't taste so well when burnt. ;)