Will
-Weekly one shot challenge #5-
In response to At A Venture's brilliant forum challenges. This weeks challenge phrase: "Without a cure I am compassionate about killing her. I will have my way with what's left of the will of her."
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I stood in the darkness and waited. It was summer and the night was perfect, still. I watched as the stars began to make their presence known, popping forth one by one in tiny explosions of light - the only light I now know. There was a light breeze, and the branches of the towering trees swayed lightly as I lifted my face to inhale the smells around me. I tasted the air, and after a moment I smiled slightly in anticipation, finding what I sought.
Her scent was very faint, delicate and sweet, but coming closer. I clasped my hands in front of me while I waited, and bowed my head. I felt much like a villain in a novel, a fiend lurking in the shadows. And, of course, that was precisely what I was. My kind had been written about and feared for centuries upon centuries. We had been given many names and titles, but in this age, in this self-proclaimed civilized country, we had been dismissed as the stuff of legend.
Her scent was stronger now and I took a step forward, feeling a rush of excitement at what was to come. Even after all my long, long years, the thrill of the hunt could still move me. Not much else was able to do so any longer. This is why I wanted her, why I needed her and why, very soon, I would have her.
And then she was there. She was being quiet, or so she thought. She was skulking in the shadows, holding her shoes in one hand, and she scurried across the great lawn that held her family's estate. She had pulled up the bottom of her long, fine dress and was clutching it to her, in an attempt to diminish the loud, ruffling noise it made while she moved. She was trying to hide, moving from one tree to another, like a child playing a hiding game. She would stop and peer back over her shoulder occasionally, fearful that she would be spotted.
She was a bold one; high-spirited and full of willfulness. If she would be caught, it would be the end for her, and she well knew it. But still, she had fled her family's home, running off alone to meet some boy that was not nearly her equal, neither in social status or disposition. That simple young man was no match for this girl, he would not make her happy. From what I had seen of this wet and dismal country, there were few things that ever could make such a one as her happy. Indeed, there were too few things in the entire world worthy of her spirit.
I smiled grimly as I walked silently through the night. This girl and I had much in common.
She was almost to the gate and the adjoining dirt walkway that would lead her safely to the small side door that served as entrance for servants. She would never make it.
"Pamela," I called, my voice strong but not loud. She froze, whipping around to face me with wide eyes.
"Who are you?" she demanded, in a perfect, clear voice and language of one well-bred.
I walked toward her, prepared to launch myself in her path if she attempted to flee. To my delight, she stood perfectly still at my approach and met my eyes. I knew I looked strange to her, my great height, pale skin and hair styled far differently from the men she was accustomed to seeing. But she never flinched, even when I came to stand within an arms length of her. She had courage in her, oh yes.
I held her eyes, and pushed my will into her mind through my gaze. Her expression changed, going from mistrust, to confusion and then to acceptance in rapid succession. I closed the small remaining distance between us, and I placed my hands on either side of her face. My dead body felt alive again for just a moment as I felt her fall easily under my thrall. My fangs descended as I considered what was to come.
"I have something I'd like to give you, Pamela," I spoke quietly, keeping my eyes fixed on hers. She tilted her head to the side, smiled.
"Is it a present?" She asked with excitement, sounding for all the world like a small child just then. I smiled at her.
"Oh yes. It is a very great gift I want to give you." I moved my hands down to hers and started to walk backwards, keeping my eyes on her, pulling her gently with me. "Come, and I'll show you."
She went willingly, and in a moment we were hidden within the dark shadows of the trees. I touched her chin with one hand, lifting it, exposing the smooth skin of her neck beneath her pale hair. I stroked my hand along her neck, tracing the faint outline of the vein there. My eyes began to glaze a bit and I felt the anti-coagulant start to form in my mouth.
"Look at me, Pamela," I instructed, and she did. "I'm going to bite you now," I said softly, infusing the words with as much power as I could summon. "But you won't be afraid, and it won't hurt. Do you understand?"
She nodded slowly, blinking. I pulled her in close to me, feeling her warm body even through the layers of clothing she wore. She put her own arms around my waist, complying without question or fear. I felt a momentary pang of regret that I couldn't allow her fight me, as I knew she would if not for my glamour. But I had no desire to inflict unnecessary pain on this remarkable girl I had chosen.
I pulled the fabric of her dress off her shoulder and placed my mouth against the bend in her neck. I closed my eyes and bit. I growled with pleasure as I tasted her pure and perfect blood flow into my mouth. I held her firmly as I pulled on the wounds I inflicted, sucking hard, relishing every second of the experience. She began to grow weak, and her body limp, so I gently lowered her to the ground, never removing my mouth from her neck.
As I took her life into me, I reflected on my own existence. I was a monster, and a killer, as surely as anything in this world. I had found this innocent girl and I had made the God-like decision to take her life, to bind her to me forever in a life of blood and darkness. Whatever humanity I had once possessed was gone, and for that there was no medicine, no magical remedy. But even without a cure, I am compassionate about killing her. My glamour, perfected over almost a millenia, is effective. She has no conscious feeling of pain or fear, and not a sound escapes her lips as her body grows cold.
She will be mine; my child, my faithful companion, perhaps even my lover if she chooses. And I will train her well, in all areas. This vital girl with a warriors spirit almost as mighty as my own will be a valuable asset, though it will not be without effort. I will have to break her down to nothing. I'll have my way with what's left of the will of her, and then I will build her back up. She will be stronger and more powerful in death that she would ever have been in the miserable existence known as humanity. I will make good on my promise to her, and give her the greatest gift I have to offer: a new life. And she will revere me for it.
Too soon, she lays on the ground before me, eyes closed as if in sleep. Her heartbeat, once so strong and vital, is faint and failing. I squeeze her jaw, forcing her mouth to open. I bite my own wrist and as the blood begins to flow, I press it to her lips and help her nearly lifeless body to drink. On some level, she understands she needs to do this to survive, and she begins to suck in earnest. I feel my body respond to the intensity of the sensations, but I push those feelings away easily. She will be my child and I will be her maker. Our bond will be sacred, and I will not violate it, or her. Perhaps later she will request it of me, but until then I will not touch her.
Finally it's done, and I know I must move quickly. I pick up the lifeless body and carry her to the house, flying up to the open window through which I have watched her for many nights. I manage to slide in through the tiny space, and I tuck her into her bed. I know she will be found, and in the tradition of her religion she will be buried within a day, two at most. I hear footsteps, and I move quickly, retreating through the window, sparing one last glance at my child. I will see you soon, I tell her softly. Then I'm gone, like a thief in the night.
As I fly away, I hear a woman's hysterical screaming, and then the voices of men shouting to summon a doctor. I feel not a moment's regret for what I've done. This girl that I chose, with her beauty and her stubbornness and her spirit, will be my greatest creation. My will is now her own, and she will serve me well.
Il Finito
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xoxo