Is anyone even reading this? I suppose not, so I'm basically writing for myself here. This one has been written for well over a month as I was hoping someone would show any semblance of interest before I continued posting. Med school is kicking my butt so I suppose it's a good thing that there's no pressure in the online writing community. Onward!

Chapter Three – Darkness Awakened

As promptly as he retrieved the crests, Vamdemon absconded to one of the castle's towers and waited. He knew that Piemon's army was due to strike at any given moment, and he desired nothing more than to see the harlequin perform like a trick Garurumon for the missing crest. He clutched the object in his hand, contemplating its importance to Daemon.

"Vamdemon." The hooded spectre materialised behind the vampire, who turned around to acknowledge his presence.

"Daemon." Vamdemon bowed his blonde head, showing no intimidation toward his so-called equal.

"Have you found the crests?"

"Although I have found where the crests are kept," explained the vampire, "I would much rather obtain them from Piemon himself." He tightened his grip on the one crest in his possession. "You see, these humans are primitive and stubborn beings who would rather take their secrets to the grave than disclose them. They probably have no knowledge of these items' true power. Learning Piemon's intentions for these crests would be of so much more use to us." He bared his fangs in a slight grin. "I doubt you would want to see him and LadyDevimon alive and on the warpath, when there are so many other obstacles in our way."

Daemon grunted; not even his cloak concealing his countenance could hide the fact that he was displeased. "I trust you to make the right decision, Vamdemon. Humans are expendable and more easy to dispose of than an Ultimate, especially as you are only at a Perfect level."

"Level does not always denote power," contested Vamdemon. "Piemon may be an Ultimate and I a Perfect, but his ego and temerity are the size of Infinity Mountain, thus he easily lets his guard down. Get enough cocktails into him and he is more feeble than a human. Need I remind you that LadyDevimon is not only a Perfect, but female. Her lust extends beyond that for power, and her sex can be quite daft when promised with carnal delights of the male form. I know how to deal with those two and acquire useful information for you. If either he or LadyDevimon try to harm me, it will all be in vain. You cannot kill the undead."

Soon the army would arrive and seize the crests. Vamdemon stared into the horizon, waiting for any semblance of the army of which he had once been a part. By now, the humans must be awakening from their slumber and toiling away to restore that computer laboratory to its original state. The blue twilight bled between the clouds that blanketed the sky. Strains of song echoed in the wind, uncovering what he had buried deeper within himself when attaining this form. "All through the night-time my lonely heart is singing… …to you…"

A collective clanking, like clockwork, emerged from the silence. All steps, synchronised as one voice, began as an echo, but as they drew closer, the short they percussed became more distinct and ominous. The moonlight glinted off the rows of machines drawing towards the castle. The sound was unmistakable to Vamdemon, who had listened to it during his daily training regimen. The troops had arrived to storm the castle.

A sinister grin crossed Vamdemon's face as he imagined how Piemon would react to the final crest missing, but he knew he could not stay close to witness. Once the castle walls had been penetrated by the Mekanorimons' bullets and the robotic army disappeared inside, the vampire flew off in the direction of the place he once called home.

"SEVEN?" The doors to the main chamber opened to reveal Piemon, furious from his failed mission, clutching the other seven crests in one hand, while his other hand was raised after striking a cowering ghost. He turned to several of the Bakemon who followed him in, obviously the ones who piloted the Mekanorimon. "Which one of you was the pinheaded buffoon who let it slide out of its casing?" The harlequin glared at one of the ghosts whose eyes and mouth trembled in trepidation. "It was you, wasn't it…"

"It wasn't me, my lord, honest!" the arbitrarily-chosen ghost pleaded. "How could I when you were holding the tags the entire time?"

"I have no tolerance for liars. Trump swords!"

Without another whimper out of him, the spectre and his ragged sheet were sliced to pieces by the quartet of swords. Piemon slid the swords into the sheath on his back and turned to the army. "Now, I need a volunteer from the audience to—"

"Lord Piemon, someone is here," LadyDevimon informed her master, pointing towards a hovering figure obscured in shadow.

The harlequin glared at the intruder and brandished one of his swords. "Who goes there? How dare you trespass on our private arena?" Like a fencer, he pointed the sword at the intruder.

Vamdemon floated down from his vantage point and gave the entourage a dark chuckle. "That is no way to speak to your guest," he informed them, "especially when he has something you are looking for." He let a crimson orb roll out of his hand and expand, revealing an image of the eighth crest, which unbeknownst to the others was nestled safely in a pocket. With another wave of the vampire's hand, the image disappeared. "I advise you sheath that sword, Piemon," he added, spitting out the name as if it were venom. "Violence may be your modus operandi in problem solving, but it will only circumvent you in locating that last crest. Only I know where it is, and if you drive that sword through my heart that knowledge will be gone… and you may never complete your collection."

A silent pause filled the arena, and Piemon slowly sheathed his sword.

LadyDevimon stepped forward. "Who are you? How did you know Lord Piemon resides here?"

"I will ask the questions around here, LadyDevimon." Vamdemon's blue eyes glared at the demoness from behind his crimson mask. "If you prove yourselves worthy, I will humour your request to know why I am here. Right now there is a business deal that is due to be made; I am sure that you both have an eye for a bargain…"

LadyDevimon could not pry her gaze from Vamdemon's eyes, reading them as if she were attempting to decipher a foreign text.

"A splendid idea," said Piemon, handing the eight tags to LadyDevimon. "This matter ought to be discussed over dinner. LadyDevimon, would you care to—"

"There is no reason for her to join us," Vamdemon pointed out. "This is a business deal between two parties; she will only convolute things."

It seemed that evolving to a Perfect form had altered the vampire's taste for food. He picked at the courses placed before him, repulsed by what he had zealously devoured in his Tsukaimon stage. The food seemed almost alien to him; how could anyone consider it sustenance? The meat was nothing but stringy filler; all of the blood had been drained and replaced by a transfusion of sauces. There was little energy in these plants roasted and served on the side! His system was certain to reject it later, Vamdemon thought. Had the wine addled his taste buds as well as his judgement?

In spite of his distaste for food, the wine did not go to his head so easily. Although he was several times larger than his Child form, thus with a greater volume of blood and a smaller likelihood of complete inebriation, Vamdemon knew to tread cautiously. The vampire nursed his own glass in between pushing the food around his plate and keeping his mouth busy in a manner that did not involve food consumption.

"I trust you are someone who places tremendous importance on his servants, Piemon," said Vamdemon.

"Lord Piemon," the harlequin corrected him, slurring his words and sloshing the contents of his fourth cocktail glass onto the table.

"You do not rule over my territory, thus I am not under obligation to address you as 'Lord,'" Vamdemon pointed out. "I also happen to be a 'Lord' myself; that makes you and me equals, would it not?" he took a tentative sip of wine and swirled the contents of his glass, witnessing Piemon grow as stewed as a prune on his own liquor. "But I digress… I understand how many servants whose lives were risked to obtain these tags and crests. Clearly you might have a special servant you may be willing to trade for the missing crest. Your LadyDevimon is quite a piece of work and I could put her to good use…"

Piemon furrowed his brow. "LadyDevimon is not for sale, good sir!" he contested. "She provides certain services that none of my other servants can perform."

"Pity." Vamdemon swirled the contents of his chalice and thoughtfully sipped them again. "Then by all means, keep her; I would rather not play with a used toy. Perhaps you have another servant who could prove himself useful on the battlefield."

Piemon drained the contents of his glass and banged a fist on the table, muttering a name under his breath.

Vamdemon narrowed his eyes. "Beg pardon? I did not quite catch that."

"Tsukaimon," the harlequin replied in a voice laced with venom. "That sneaky little bastard was plotting escape, so LadyDevimon had to deal with him. A tragedy, but rightfully so… the villain always receives his comeuppance."

"Of what importance was this Tsukaimon to you? They are useless servants in my opinion… loyal messengers, but in battle they are about as useful as dirt."

"A brilliant character analysis, my friend, but this one was different… although his loyalty was questionable, he had powers within him… sorcery, as my lady and servants attested to, he evolved when she struck him! …Oh my, it seems the wine is going right to my head…. It could have been used to our advantage. He could have brought back those eight crests himself! And those Harmonious Ones who were after the spoils… we could have found a way for him to deal with them. My creator would give anything to see them sealed behind the wall of fire." The tone of the harlequin's voice suddenly switched from anger to amusement. "But no… even drinking him into a stupor could not make him loyal… so LadyDevimon had to kill him." A lighthearted chuckle flourished at the end of the story. "I would have much rather turned him into a keychain and kept him for amusement, but my mistress has always had a fondness for carnage."

Killed him? It seemed that LadyDevimon was the mistress of the twisted tongue which she proved to be quite deft in the bedroom, Vamdemon thought as he stood up from the table.

Piemon followed his lead, although he swayed and stumbled doing so.

Vamdemon handed Piemon the crest; the later pocketed it greedily and gave a hearty chuckle.

"Providing a crest for free?" the Ultimate scoffed. "Not much of a businessmon, are you?"

"Why would I provide anything for nothing?" contested the Perfect. "That would hardly be a fair trade. You have already given me more than enough in exchange for this crest, and I assure you, I will make restitution for everything you have provided for me."

Piemon gave a cackle and clutched the crest in his fist. "Enough words? How could the story of Tsukaimon be of use to you? I thank you for helping me complete my collection."

Vamdemon bared his fangs in a slight smirk. "I trust you are not going to let go of that crest now that it is in your possession."

"Absolutely not."

"And anyone who wants it would need to pry it out of your cold, dead hands."

"You are a smart one. Perhaps with practice, you could start deciphering children's puppet shows." The harlequin headed for the door, yet the vampire continued to smirk and block his path. "What is amusing you? I always love a good jest."

"I just realised I never told you my name," said Vamdemon, rolling a heated crimson orb in his right hand. "I am surprised that you failed to identify me already… and that LadyDevimon never told you that your Tsukaimon was immortal."

"HA! Immortal? Perhaps you are the one who had a bit too much to drink… LadyDevimon killed him."

"No, she did not. Your servant could not be subdued by your so-called nectar; his destiny was to be the cause of your downfall. He evolved to his true form, Lord Vamdemon." He paused, allowing Piemon a few seconds to process it in his intoxicated state. He whispered, "Bloody stream…"

A whip of electrified blood rolled out from the orb in Vamdemon's hand. A crimson light drenched the room. When it subsided, Piemon lay on the floor and Vamdemon stood above him. The vampire decided he would not make a good meal; alcohol-laced blood wrapped in a layer of grease paint was less appetizing than food for the living.

"You were right, Piemon," said the vampire as he pried the crest out of his former master's cold, unconscious hands. "I am not much of a businessmon. Night raid!"

LadyDevimon, waiting in the crystalline blue hallway, noticed the hall grow dim and felt a wave of cold wash over her. Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she turned her head around and jumped backwards. She leaned against the wall and clasped her hand to her heaving chest. "You startled me," she said. "Where is Lord Piemon?"

"He has retired early to his chambers," Vamdemon responded, not skipping a beat. "Why are you still out? A lady should not be wandering alone at night."

"Such an archaic belief," scoffed the demoness, who had gathered her wits. She gently brushed her stray hair over her shoulder and traipsed down the hall. "I can take care of myself. I'm not a weakling." She glanced at the vampire, who appeared to be clutching an object in his hand. "What is that?"

Vamdemon held out his hand to produce the crest, then promptly pocketed it. "I am afraid we have not yet reached a business deal yet. Nothing he had to offer was of enough worth to him or myself, and the one thing I felt was substantial enough…" he diverted his gaze upon LadyDevimon, seeing her stifle a shiver, "…he was unwilling to sell." He took LadyDevimon's hand and gently caressed it. He leaned up to her so barely a sliver of light passed between the two, and gazed into her eyes.

LadyDevimon stared at the ground and furrowed her brow, as if to block the vampire from her line of sight. For once, she did not speak.

Vamdemon lifted her chin up with his hand and turned her head towards his, so their eyes stared into one another. "Perhaps I could help you reap some of the benefits of being in my possession," he suggested.

The demoness huffed and pushed the vampire away, breaking free of his grip. "I refuse to be passed around and traded like a piece of currency!"

To calm her down Vamdemon once again stood in front of LadyDevimon and took her hands in his own, running his thumbs across the palms. "I understand that, dear," he said as placidly as possible. "That is why I trust you to make the ultimate decision of who you wish to choose as your mate. I know what you will say, my pet, 'I belong to Lord Piemon', but have you ever seen the world outside of him? Only knowing one meal, no matter how bland and tasteless or revolting it may be, is not healthy for a beautiful young womon like yourself. You deserve to sample all of the delights we male forms have to offer…" He let go of one of her hands and let his free hand run down her cheek.

LadyDevimon leaned into his caress, then quickly pulled away. "I made an oath to Lord Piemon. I am his, and only his, not forsaking him for another lest I suffer the consequences."

Vamdemon drew himself towards the demoness, allowing his lips to gently brush her own. "What do you have to fear?" he whispered. "I thought the last thing a devil would possess is ethics."

"But what if he catches us?" LadyDevimon's alabaster face flushed.

"Never underestimate the potency of wine, girl… he is resting in peace at this very moment. Now lead me to your chamber." He gently caught LadyDevimon's lips in a soft kiss, brushing his tongue across the surface to taste the salty sweat.

LadyDevimon glanced over her shoulder, then escorted the vampire to her bedchamber. The décor was austere and bathed in blacks and dark reds, and the bed in the centre served as the room's crown jewel. Three pale flames appeared in the single candelabra on a table beside the bed, bathing the room in an eerie glow. She removed her mask and cape, letting them drop to the floor, thus revealing her bare face and shoulders. It seemed like ritual to her; her movement was fluid like a dancer's. Approaching the bed, she disrobed each article of clothing as if to leave a trail, until only her leather bodysuit remained. There was a pause as she reached below the collar and pulled several objects out of her cleavage.

"I will keep those safe," said Vamdemon. He grabbed the tags and crests, noticing how they glinted in the candlelight, and promptly pocketed them.

By then, LadyDevimon had peeled her leather suit off and lay bare atop the velvet sheets. She tilted her head back and sprawled out, as if serving herself as a main course. Vamdemon could barely prevent the blood from draining from his head seeing such an exquisite female form. The candlelight only softened her ivory skin and hair and every curve and hollow of her hourglass figure. He felt his trousers tighten as he gazed upon her breasts. As if guided by primal instinct, he promptly tore off all of his clothing down to his belts and stormed her innermost sanctum.

The allure of the female form had never been a mystery to Vamdemon, though in his new form he became acquainted with it in full. In previous stages these parts were foreign to him, unheard of, yet the females of his species possessed some intangible quality he found irresistible.

In the throes of carnal passion, no concept of time existed, and all acts were purely instinctual. He suckled at her neck, spelling indecipherable phrases across the skin with his tongue just to taste the salty sweat. Beads of perspiration rolled down his back, across her chest, gathering at the pink buds on her bosom. He felt a spark running his tongue across LadyDevimon's chest, gently lingering in the centre of each breast. Soon the tightness in Vamdemon's trousers overwhelmed him; he unbuckled his belts and released all inhibitions. He thrust into her, driving his pelvis into hers. She arched her back and dug her nails into his. Her staggered breathing turned into primal moans and screams; how easily females could be subdued by the sheer power of a monhood.

If blood was nectar to Vamdemon, screams were truly ambrosia.

Passion. Lust. They were each other's sin.

Vamdemon slid out of her and redid his trousers and belts, letting the blood return to the rest of him. "My pet," he whispered, "do you truly wish to receive baptism into darkness? You deserve to be more than a servant." He caressed the side of her face, brushing the sweat-drenched hair away from her neck. "Your rightful title ought to be Queen of the Undead."

LadyDevimon closed her eyes and moaned, savouring the thought of such a title.

"I am Lord Vamdemon, King of the Undead," said the vampire, finally revealing his name to her. "And I have been yearning for my Queen for so long." He brushed his lips against LadyDevimon's. "Would you be my Queen?"

"Oh yes…" gasped LadyDevimon. Her bare bosom still heaving with bated breath, she tilted her head to the side, exposing her pale, slender neck. Her veins had dilated; her heart pounded at its full capacity.

Never had a neck been so irresistible to Vamdemon… his vampire nature began to vanquish his male urges, beating them senseless. In this state his instinct was primal; all he knew was blood. He planted a row of kisses down her neck, sucking at the skin and pleased with himself seeing red marks appear where his mouth had been. He plunged his fangs into her jugular vein, piercing the silky skin and feeling the blood gush into his mouth and trickle down his throat. He continued to suck at the wounds, running his tongue across the raw flesh.

LadyDevimon let out a muffled scream as the twin blades stung her neck, and tried to push him off. With every heartbeat a new wave of her salty nectar flowed from the puncture wounds. Soon her vision tumbled and spun before her. Her breaths shallowed. Her weighty arms fell back onto the bed. She could not lift her head; she lay lifelessly against her pillow like a rag doll. A scarlet stain flowed freely from her neck and drenched her hair, standing out starkly against the white.

Vamdemon, content with his meal, drew away from his victim and wiped the blood away from his mouth. "Your veins run with the sweetest nectar, my pet…"

LadyDevimon's heavy eyes could not mask her trepidation. "Why did you hurt me?" she gasped.

"It is my nature," replied the vampire. "I enjoyed tonight's feast." He brushed the strands of hair, drenched with sweat and blood, off of LadyDevimon's neck.

"Lord Piemon shall know of this," winced LadyDevimon, "and he will hunt you down and have your head. I killed the last traitor who defied him."

Vamdemon bared a blood-stained grin. "Did you even fool yourself into believing you killed Tsukaimon?" He then pushed LadyDevimon against the bed and grabbed her throat, wrapping his fingers around it so tightly he could feel her struggling to breathe. He stared into her eyes, ice-blue meeting blood-red. "If your so-called Lord Piemon had been more tactful in his treatment of your immortal Tsukaimon, the success of his endeavours would have multiplied one hundredfold. Respect must be earned, LadyDevimon, not forced through drinking someone blind. His greatest flaw was his excessive pride and effrontery, which overshadowed his resourcefulness. He grew cocky and threw lavish dinners, celebrating before the time was appropriate. Imbibing so much alcohol loosened his tongue and rendered him vulnerable to attack. Piemon let his guard down." Vamdemon leaned closer to the demoness, gently letting his lips graze her own. "That is why Tsukaimon turned on his so-called masters, Piemon failed in his mission, and he is dead now…" he whispered.

LadyDevimon silently mouthed "No…"

Vamdemon tightened his grip around LadyDevimon's neck, watching her mouth and eyes tremble. "And that is why the blue-eyed servant he and his concubine muddled into oblivion is the one who did them in." He stared into her eyes again, not allowing her to break the gaze.

With his free hand, still enclosing LadyDevimon in his full-bodied grip, Vamdemon removed his mask and shook the stray strands of hair out of his face to reveal the scar that spanned his face. The demoness's eyes widened as she finally realised the identity of her seductive captor.

Night raid!

A dark cloud of bats erupted from Vamdemon's cape, screeching and tearing through anything in their way. Vamdemon leapt off of her to watch as his former captor was devoured alive by the ravenous bats, unable to move or even scream. The last thing she saw was Vamdemon's ice-blue eyes.

The bats, satiated with the fresh data from their newest victim, disappeared into their throes beneath the cape. Vamdemon, his mission fulfilled, buttoned up his tunic and reclasped his black mantle around his neck. He removed the eight tags from his pocket, examining them with tremendous satisfaction, and slid the eighth crest into its empty holder. This one would remain with him, he decided with a sly grin, sliding it around his neck so it rested beneath his tunic, and concealing the string with his crimson cravat. He may be more worthy of them than Daemon.

Upon receiving his offering of the crests, Daemon examined them with eager intent, and seeing that they were authentic, clutched them in his hand. "Well done, Vamdemon," he praised the vampire. He then mused, "Seven. Just as predicted… what superstition those humans place on plastic number power. Do they really believe that seven items automatically binds them to the angels and gives them the power of HolyAngemons?" He chuckled and admired his prize again. "HolyAngemon was certainly not on their side today; every human has been snuffed out thanks to those mechanised armies, and the last one remaining has fleed the continent. Perhaps I underestimated your tactfulness, Vamdemon. You might as well take the castle into your possession."

Vamdemon gave his comrade an acknowledging nod and returned to the tower where he stood sentinel earlier that night. Although the evening with LadyDevimon multiplied his pleasure tenfold, it reminded him of another. He peeled off his cape and shirt, dropping them to the floor, and removed his mask and shook his wet hair off. He kept the tag and crest around his neck to guard them. The cool night breeze cleansed and refreshed his skin. He closed his eyes and remembered the face for which he had longed for so many months, possibly years.

My love, where is she?

Someday, she would be his. She would attain a human form as he did, and he would be free to do with her as he pleased. She completed him. Without her, he would never be whole.

To be continued...