Disclaimer - I own nothing. The film and characters were created by Drew Cullingham. I just tried to imagine the beginning of a possible sequel
Umbrage 2: Possible beginning
The sun rose higher and higher on the horizon, destroying last traces of night's supernatural snowstorm with its warmth. Creatures, with whom the storm came, no longer were at the cut off from most of the world's farm somewhere in the forest depths of Great Britain. Wherever surviving creature was gone, the frost was gone along with him.
Shadows were gone, too. Animals, frightened by overnight guests, slowly started their activities again - the birds sang, field mice ran out of their burrows, somewhere in the grass miraculously not frozen grasshoppers chirped.
And only the huge old barn emitted some mind-pressing of the aura. For a moment, it would seem that a large raven flew inside half-ruined barn, however, any outside observer would be very surprised to see that the barn had not even a trace of a bird; stout, long-haired, mustached man in his mid-thirties stood inside instead. A man looked around curiously, tapped his fingers on the one of the wooden beams, as if testing its strength, grinned mischievously, as if something amused him, took out a cigar and a match and lit it in a boss-y way. Only after a couple of puffs, the intruder has finally turned his attention to the only thing that would attract the attention of any person who visited the barn - the corpse of an aging man lying in a pool of blood.
"Well, you, old man, of course, did surprise everyone last night." He suddenly broke the silence. He then took another drag of his cigar, blew smoke and continued. "To refuse the chance to sleep with the greatest of women ever created by God...I do not know to consider you very brave or incredibly stupid."
The man stared at the corpse for a long moment, as if he was waiting for some reaction, but, seeing nothing, spoke again: "Hell, do you realize that you are the first man who resisted her charm? All the men she just walked nearby wanted her, not talking about those whom she was interested in. She was desired even by gays, made even impotents hard, but what am I saying? Since the creation of the world, the lust of Adam in relation to her was inherited by all of his descendants. And, to be honest, I myself have never been able to resist her..." The last sentence was a half-whisper, as if he didn't want these words to be heard by someone. However, the loud laughter that followed these words showed that his tone was nothing more than a show.
"She fluttered her eyelashes at you, wiped your tears away, kissed you and let you touch her breasts, and you ran away from her as if you saw her body covered in traces of leprosy. You should have seen my wife's face at that moment! I have lived with her for several thousands of years, but I had never seen so much anger and shock on her face!" The man suddenly stopped laughing and stared at the body. A minute passed, maybe a little more, the face of man clearly showed that the silence was irritating him. The expression of irritation on his face soon gave way to anger; in one sharp movement he moved closer to the corpse, and grabbed the dead man's shoulders. The body was limp, cold, and it seemed that the very idea of the deceased to claim at least some part in this strange monologue was absurd. But the stranger did not seem to understand that. Only a few inches separated his face from the bloodied face of the farm owner.
"I know you're alive." The stranger whispered ominously, breathing away cigar smoke. "And I think that you deserve a little gift." The man let go of the body and scratched his palm with a fingernail, drawing blood.
Weird, almost black blood drop reluctantly slid down the palm to the index finger, briefly paused at the nail and then fell down, on the dead man's lips. And then something incredible happened...
The body began to tremble! The tips of his fingers beat a rhythm on the wet ground, lips twitched as if trying to say something, face wrinkled. Like the drop of blood was a lightning bolt.
Bearded stranger's face broke into a nasty smile, and he slashed his hand with a fingernail three more times. Three more life-giving black drops met with a trembling mouth. Suddenly the body turned limp. Not a hint of life, not a single movement.
The man just wanted to lower his outstretched hand but, without the slightest warning, the body jumped up, and with the force of a rabid dog had bitten through the hand. The man however, did not respond - he didn't stagger back, didn't scream, didn't even try to tear his hand away from the not-so-dead owner of the farm. He looked at the man possessed by the absolute feral hunger who almost bit his hand off with only the slightest scientific interest.
"All of you are the same in your first feeding. Eat like a pig, spray food in all directions. No two elegant holes on the neck, no - you try to leave giant tear, and even break bones." The stranger interrupted his speech, irritated by a vampire tearing one of the muscles "Do not hope that it will kill me. This body is nothing more than a vessel for my shade. The real me is far away from here."
It was unknown if the vampire wanted to test the words of an uninvited guest in practice, or just wanted to change the place of his "feast", but at a rate imperceptible to the human eye, he tried to bury his bloody fangs into men's neck. But the man, despite being overweight, intercepted him with incredible quickness, and caught the new vampire's throat in the inescapable iron grip.
"I despise people and can't stand vampires even more, but I need you. I am limited in my stay on Earth. I can't move around freely here. So I need a hound. You are the best thing I've got."
The vampire hissed, squirming in his hands, baring teeth and trying to bite, but being unable to do anything.
"Both of us lost someone dear in last day. I lost my wife. You lost your wife, baby and stepdaughter. And it's the one man who is guilty in our losses. Phelan."
Surprisingly, from the sound of the Irish name vampire subsided and turned his drenched and caked with fresh blood head in the direction of the voice. He was willing to listen.
"Once he was an American cowboy of Irish descent, and now he is only a scavenger with grossly inflated ego. His success in yesterday's battle was nothing more than misunderstanding, as my wife was not careful. But he is not invincible. He thinks he can come anywhere, do anything and get away, taking whatever he wants without paying anything. He's deadly wrong."
"R-Rachel..." Choked the vampire.
The man pressed his lips to the undead's ear, enveloping him in the smell of tobacco.
"Yes, Rachel. The reason of your fall. She is with him. Find Phelan, and you'll find her."
"She...does she...knew what she was doing? She...did that...willingly?" The Vampire's hoarse voice trembled like he was holding back tears.
"Did she knew that Phelan will turn her into a vampire? Or are you asking about whether she knew whose throat she'd sever when she wanted to feed for the first time? Or maybe you want to ask, if she repents what she did to you? Yes?"The man waited for a sluggish nod. "You'll ask her yourself. But first, deal with her new boyfriend.
The vampire growled with jealously. The man chuckled.
"You want his head. I need his soul. Do it. And both you and she won't owe me anything.
"And if I won't?"
"If you won't?" The barn filled with not one, but three different and quite creepy voices emenating from every corner and crevice. "Let me remind you that the soul of your first wife, the mother of your beloved stepdaughter, is in my kingdom. Suicides don't suffer as much as other sinners, but I assure you, I will do everything to make sure her soul is suffering as no murderer or traitor ever did. Both you and Rachel will witness her agony. All the time. Asleep and awake."
A chill of fear ran through the body of the vampire ,and his arms hung helplessly.
"It's a deal with the Devil." The undead replied woefully. "I agree."
"Excellent! Excellent! First, find them by their smell." The man abruptly lessened his iron grip, rose from his knees and turned toward the exit of the barn.
But before the shadow of a raven flew out of the open doors, the last words of the stranger rang in the barn:
"Open your eyes, Jacob."