The rules of being a vampire, as were laid down to him from the vampire before him, were as followed:
Never, under any circumstance, drink the blood of a dead person.
Fire, like the sun, has the same destructive possibilities to their kind, and can kill them all the easier.
Humans were never meant to be seen as anything more than a simple meal.
Love was forbidden, for the heartache was eternal.
And finally, what may have been the most important rule, was simply never to get caught.
Humans fear what they can not understand, and to be caught feasting on the blood of man would throw everything vampires had tried to accomplish in the ways of secrecy would be thrown into turmoil.
That was what the older vampire had instructed him before he'd cast himself into the fire, his screeches reaching the high rafters of the castle as he turned to ash in a horrible display of agony.
The young Finas had been horrified, truly, and could not understand why his creator had so readily destroyed himself. Nor could he figure out the reasoning behind why the man had chosen him as his replacement.
"Because you'll last." Had been the excuse, if he recalled correctly.
It was vague and more than slightly confusing, but with the vampire now dead and gone, there was no one for him to question about the excuse he'd received.
But surely this was not what the man had meant when he had said that Finas would 'last'.
Not even a month old into his new form, Finas had broken two of the sacred vampiric laws, and was surely paying the cost now. He had hesitated when dealing the final blow, that look of absolute fear and desperation being directed toward him had been too much, and he had been caught.
The guilt he'd felt when he'd cornered that young boy had distracted him so thoroughly that he hadn't realized there were people there to witness his crime. Of course, when he'd heard the shrill cry for help from the Italian woman nearby, he'd known.
The guards came running, and even though he put up a valiant effort to evade them, without the proper teaching of his new vampiric powers he'd been left utterly hapless as the guards swarmed and caught him, imprisoning him with relative ease.
The strong Italian guards had shouted at him angrily, handling him roughly before shoving him violently into a cold, windowless cell, startling the prisoner who was also being held there.
He was grateful for the fact that the cell had no window, and even if he couldn't understand the incessant babbling of his mortal roommate, at least he could take solace in the fact that he would not be burned to death as his creator had been.
And thus marked the beginning of the worst years of Finas' existence.
Being as newborn a vampire as he was, the preternatural hunger was constant and ever present. It gnawed at him day and night, demanding his thirst be quenched. He couldn't bear to look at that man he shared his cell with, frightened of how he seemed to be able to hear the blood pounding through the mans body.
Of course, the prison guards often left small rations of food for the two of them, attempting to keep them feed even in these harsh conditions, but these only succeeded in antagonizing him, for he was no longer able to ingest what he once was able. That didn't stop him from trying, though, and the end result was so miserable and awful, he never dared eat human food again. Of course, this puzzled his cellmate; how could a man live if he didn't eat? It was beyond him, but being as that he was of simple mind, only accepted the extra bits of food and sat in silence away from Finas' hungry stares.
Days, or maybe months passed before Finas decided he couldn't stand it any longer. He rounded on his unfortunate companion, uttering many an apology before he'd held the man down, forcing him to lie still and be calm as he sank his fangs in and drank greedily, aching for more as soon as the body was drained. All too soon. He ached for more as soon as he pulled away, politely folding the hands over the chest as he placed him on the far edge of the cell where he wouldn't have to look at it.
The guards refused to take the body.
They were downright frightened of Finas, now that they'd seen what he'd done to that poor young man he'd been forced to dwell with. Though they knew that they were safe on the opposite side of that wrought iron cage, they tried their damndest to have minimal contact with him, often averting their eyes for fear he could enchant them in some manor.
The body began to rot, and the stench was unbearable, made all the worse by his heightened vampiric senses. He was sickened by it, sickened by what he'd done to it, and could only plead with the guards in a language they didn't understand to either release him, or at the very least take him to a different cell; he was too weak to put up much of a fight.
Of course, they ignored him, and time went on. The faces of the guards changed like the seasons of the year changing and growing onward outside, and still he did not die. He knew he wouldn't, but he still wished for it with every waking, gnawing moment of his existence. The guards, once so diligent in their duties, eventually begin to thin out as the other prisoners they were paid to watch died or were released until there was no one down there but the withering, ageless man.
Finas' strength, like time, trickled away until he could barely keep himself standing. Without that sweet nourishment that blood gave him, Finas had become crippled to the point where he couldn't stand to do anything more than lay down and rest against the hard stone flooring, his vampiric hunger gnawing at him incessantly. This was torture in its purest form, he was sure.
The prison was empty now, he was sure of it, as the hollow echoes of nothing at all bounced around him, mocking his torture as it threw his pitiful moans back at him. Helpless and alone, he could do nothing more than to wish for that sweet embrace of death.
There was nothing in this cell capable of killing an immortal, and not for the first time did he find himself wishing he had been thrust into a cell with a window after all. At least then he would have had that option.
Weak and utterly trapped behind thick steel bars, it seemed Finas would be waiting for some sort of salvation till the end of time. So he counted, forcing time to march on even if he no longer knew if time still existed. It was hard to tell.
Life mulled on as he counted the seconds that passed, groaning and whining pitifully before he heard it; something small was skittering around just outside his cage.
With great effort and many a strangled groan, he managed to raise his head up just enough to catch a glimpse of what it was.
A rat.
A big, juicy, absolutely appetizing looking rat was sniffing its way along the walls bordering the hall. He just about shut-down at the site of it.
He raised his hand (he was surprised, startled and scared to find that his skin was literally clinging to his bone, showing off every contour it had to offer) and slowly began to thread it through the bars, shakily grasping for that rat that seemed just out of his reach. The rat, sensing no threat, paid him no mind and continued on with what it was doing, inching ever farther away. Frustrated, Finas strained to push himself further, trying hard to get what seemed his last chance at escape, but was simply too weak. He let his arm collapse, cursing mentally as he heaved a dry, exasperated sigh.
'Just come a little closer, please, you stupid little animal.' He pleaded franticly with his mind, hollow face turned toward the rodent with a look of absolute desperation stretched across it. 'Just a little closer, please, I beg you.'
He really hadn't expected much, if anything to happen, gave a fantastic little cry of joy when he noticed that the rat was actually listening to him, creeping closer ever so slowly with whiskers twitching wildly.
Finas' eyes widened; he hadn't been aware he'd had this kind of power. He continued encouraging the rat, gesturing to it with his sickly thin hand, the mental strain of trying to keep the rats focus causing him to quake.
'Yes, yes, so close! Closer now, please!'
The rat was still slow and hesitant in its advances, and it was just so close! He realized dumbly that he'd probably be salivating if he was still able to, but had no pride left to be ashamed about it.
'Come on, you stupid rodent! Just a little closer, that's all I ask! Quit toying with me AND COME HERE!'
Too strong.
The rat, frightened by the ferocity of Finas' mental voice, panicked and fled, removing any chance Finas had had of feeding.
Unable to comprehend what just happened, all Finas could do was stare, left alone once more, before he let out a low wail, heaving a dry sob as he cursed this 'lasting' prison he'd been unfairly thrust into. What good was 'lasting' if this was how he was determined to live? If only he'd had better control over his patience and hadn't shouted at that damn rat…
Now wait a minute.
If he'd been able to communicate with that rat, to some degree, was it possible, then, that he would be able to send out a plea, a sort of cry for help to someone outside these prisons walls?
Well, it was damn well worth a shot.
Finas began concentrating, focusing the last remaining bits of his energy into one last-ditch effort to free himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he shook with the effort of trying to project his mental message out as far as he could possibly get it to go.
'Someone, anyone; please, help me.'
Exhausted, he dropped his head back to the stone and slept.
He awoke to the sound of footsteps some hours later.
At first, he thought it was a sick trick of the mind, a remnant of the dream he'd just awakened from until he heard a second pair trekking after the first. If it were physically possible for him, he would have sat up and yelled, calling attention to himself immediately as he heard the duo coming ever closer.
Finally, the footsteps came to a halt directly before his cell, and though he could barely keep his eyes open, his hearing was still very much in tact as a long, low whistle reached his ears.
"Distorsione di velocitá, esaminereste quello? Esamini questo tipo."
He felt his hope in being saved slip a little as he realized they spoke in a language he still didn't understand, and tried desperately to raise his head to see his would-be saviors. All he manages instead is a slight lull and a quiet moan.
The person whistled again.
Whoever it is standing before him crouches low, grabbing hold of his thin, thin wrist only to drop it the minute he lifts it up to inspect.
"Hey, potete capirli?" the man asks, reaching through the bars this time with hands so thick and natural looking, snapping dark-skinned fingers in front of his face, demanding attention. "State ascottando? Parlate Italiano?"
Finas groans again, blinking wearily, tired of all the injustices life had been giving to him.
"How about English, then? Do you understand that?"
Shocked, Finas tries fervently to convey that yes, yes, he does in fact speak English, but can only manage some sort of throaty 'mnghhgnh.'
"Ha, I'll take that as a yes then."
He takes a step back away from Finas' pathetic form, slipping out of his peripheral as he hums thoughtfully, flicking a large silver coin expertly back and forth between his fingers.
"You look like you could use some help there, friend."
Yes, yes, oh God, yes!
"Casimiro? Chi è questo? Che cosa state discendo?"
He'd forgotten there was a second person there with the first, and felt his hopes soar again. The voice definitely belonged to a male, and a rather young sounding one at that.
"Silenzio, ora, Peyo; Sto pensando." The clearly older man ordered, an accompanying 'hush now' sound of annoyance making his directions clear. He flicked the coin into the air, catching it with a loud slap as he flipped and held it firmly in place against his arm. "Teste, o code, Peyo?"
"Che cosa? Code; state andando ora girorli? Avek promesso!"
Without giving a response to whatever it was the young boy had been babbling about, the first man peeled his hand back and away from the coin and grinned.
"Kings to you, friend; looks like it's your lucky day."
Finas couldn't look at him, though he wanted to; lucky in what regard?
"Promisso qui, Peyo."
Even though he could not see, his hearing managed to tell him that the lock imprisoning him had been broken, and that the rusty steel door was now open. He was free. He let out a guttural groan of thanks, trying desperately to get his body to move, though it was futile. Curses! Finally, even after all this time, he was still trapped, with the door wide open and-
Was that blood?
Suddenly he was alert, body losing all sense of fatigue immediately as the jail cell snapped shut again, that poor boy accompanying the other, taller man, stood frightened, staring at him. Finas' mind went blank as his hunger kicked his primal instincts into gear, losing himself as he honed in on that thin trail of blood running down the boy's cheek.
Blood.
That thick, savory substance he'd been craving for what seemed like years running freely, wasting itself as it began to drip to the floor.
He was on top of the boy before either of them could blink; ripping into the poor thing with such savage ferocity he would be ashamed if he were in his right mind. Outside, the dark haired man with the coin was grinning wickedly, watching the animalistic display with obvious relish.
The young boys screams quickly died down, and soon the fingers that had been pressed hard against his face in defiance fell away as the body was drained of its life-energy. Finas gasped, then, suddenly coming back to his senses as he cast the body away from him, frightened at what he'd done, unable to comprehend what had just happened. He was still hungry, and still very weak, and he turned, staring at the Italian with the deep red eyes as he laughed and applauded.
"Bravo, my friend, bravo."
As the rush of energy from his recent feeding left him, he found himself clinging to the bars tightly, trying to support himself as best he could.
"Who," Finas began, coughing loudly as his throat scratched, his voice croaky from ages of disuse. "Who are you?"
The Italian smirked and opened the door, reaching out to help the ailing vampire to his feet as he gave his response, gingerly wrapping his arm around the mans waist.
"The name's Casimiro, friend, and that there was Peyo, a young accomplice of mine." He gestured to the boys crumpled body before hefting one of Finas' shaky arms across his shoulders as he began to walk the two of them out of the prison cell. "And to who do I owe this grizzly pleasure?"
Too preoccupied with trying to get his feet to work on their own as they headed toward the stairwell, Casimiro doing most of the work as they slowly began their ascent, one clear thought running rampant through Finas' mind.
I'm free, I'm free, I'm free.
"Friend? You got a name? Stay with me here, we'll get you all filled up soon."
"Finas. I- my name is Finas."
"Well alright, Finas. As soon's we get outta here we're gonna get you all fixed up, back to normal; good as new."
Finas chocked, relieved that this torture he'd been living through for what felt like centuries was finally coming to a close.
"Thank you; thank you so much. I-I owe you my life."
Casimiro laughed as he helped Finas navigate his way up the final few steps, turning them and leading him down the long hall to freedom; this was the final stretch.
"Don't thank me, Finas; it was lady Luck who saved you. Kings to you, sir. Anyway, how'd a vampire like you end up trapped in a prison? Sheesh, no wonder I've never met another vampire; I bet they're all trapped like you. You know, I was so alone, I was going to turn Peyo, just so I'd have someone to share this life with. I tell you, it sure is nice…"
Finas tuned out Casimiro's talkativeness as they neared the end of the hall, the doors leading to his freedom propped open from when the two vagabonds had entered originally. Eager to finally be rid of this place, he struggled to pry himself from Casimiros side and half stumbled, half fell the rest of the way. He landed roughly in the slightly damp grass, crawling before finally collapsing and flipping over, staring up at the star speckled sky and breathing in the night air deeply.
"Oh, oh. Thank God…"
Behind him, Casimiro stood leaning against the wall, watching this display with a smile as he flicked his coin up and down, shaking his head.
"Kings to you, friend. Good for you."
