CHAPTER 4

Note: For a much better reading experience may I suggest two violin music pieces, call it a soundtrack! The first one is from the 1989 film version of the Phantom of the Opera, with Robert Englund as the Phantom (if you haven't seen it you must! It's a gorier version of the tale, absolutely wonderful!) and the music piece is called, I think, Graveyard Violin, composed by Misha Segal. The other one is from the 2004 film version of the Phantom of the Opera and it's called the Graveyard. In the CD is the 13th track, but I believe you can find it on YouTube. I don't own any of those two songs (wish I did!). It's merely a suggestion. Hope you like the new chapter! :)

Mycroft felt a shiver down his spine. The last thing he wanted was to inform the Family.

''We are leaving tomorrow night.'', he announced.

''What?'', cried Sherlock and bounced from the couch.

''I hate repetition brother. I said we are leaving.''

''We can't!'', said the younger. ''I have…''

Mycroft glared at him. ''Your archer? We don't have time for this nonsense brother.''

''We have time for yours though, don't we?'', he said grimly.

Mycroft clenched his fists, his blunt nails digging into his palm. He couldn't stand his brother's tenacity, but he couldn't leave him here alone. On the other hand, it was the first time after so many centuries, that Sherlock had shown genuine interest for a human being. He exhaled. ''All right. But you have to do it the other way.''

Sherlock's eyes widened in realization and a mischievous grin appeared on his sharp features. ''You mean…''

''Exactly.'', nodded Mycroft. ''It is the only way. Use your Mind Palace, brother!''

Greg stilled. Aurora stopped talking and concentrated on the sounds that were coming from outside, in the library. They walked carefully to the wall that separated them from the room and raised their swords. Aurora placed hers on the slot and the solid rock wall moved slowly to reveal a distressed John, collapsing in his cousin's arms. Greg caught him in time, his silver sword falling on the floor.

''John! John, talk to me!'', Greg cried, shaking his cousin gently in his arms.

''I saw him...'', he whispered.

''Who John? Who?''

''The Vampire.'', whispered Aurora.

This was the last thing John heard before his vision blurred and his eye lids closed.

His hand touched the cold lifeless stony surface of the corridor's walls. He could feel the vibes of the dead people. Their restless souls wondered through the solid walls. Their screams and begging, their lament over their lives and the lives of those they loved, now lost forever.

His footsteps were the sole thing he could hear. They echoed rhythmically on the floor. He was cold. Cold like never before. Frozen actually. He couldn't understand how it was possible for him to even move. He felt panicked, but to his great surprise, he was perfectly calm.

He kept on walking on the cold corridor which seemed to have no end. ''Where am I?'', he thought. ''What is this place?''

Small candle lights, like fireflies, were giving a silver glow on the space. He kept on walking. The corridor, the floor the air he breathed felt like liquid forms that changed and diffused into space. He was introduced into a fluid world, where multiple complex corridors and doors were everywhere, screams of agony were the music of this magical, terrifying scenery and his mind couldn't perceive anything.

He tried the first door. Locked. He tried the second. Locked as well.

Suddenly the voices stopped and he heard a crystal clear violin music coming from, what seemed to be, the end of the corridor. A haunting, shivery, sweet melody filled his ears. He found himself following that melody. His feet had a mind of their own.

His left hand was again touching the wall, but this time he felt something. He withdrew his hand and with horror he saw it covered in blood. Blood was dripping from the stones on the walls and to the candles as well.

''Where am I?'', he contemplated again. ''This is madness!''

He tried to speak but no voice was coming from his mouth. He tried to shout. Nothing happened. He clutched his throat and felt something warm. He withdrew his hands and with terror he saw blood again, this time his own.

The beautiful crimson liquid fell onto the floor. To his amazement, the little droplets were transformed into rose pedals. He smiled.

The violin continued. The music was closer. He could hear it.

He momentarily forgot about his wound and the bloodletting on the walls. The music was coming from behind a door. He was sure.

With unsteady footsteps he walked and stood in front of a mirror. ''This is no door.'', he thought, but when he touched the surface with his trembling fingers the glass moved, forming circles in its surface, like the water which was being disturbed by a stone.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and followed the music inside.

He felt like he was swimming in ice and emerged to another cold surface. This time he found himself in a bedroom. The walls were stony as the walls in the corridors. In the middle there was a large bed, but it wasn't the bed that captured his gaze. It was the large open window which had a view of the canals.

''I have been here before.'', he thought. ''Venice!''

He heard footsteps. He knew those footsteps. He closed his eyes as he accepted his fate. ''I am dead.'', he thought, as the music continued.

Cool arms encircled his waist and held him tight. Soft, silky curls tickled the back of his neck as his attacker nuzzled his bloody neck.

He opened his eyes slowly and he saw him through the looking glass, across him. The black haired pale demon was the one who plagued his dreams. But under the dim silver light he looked so beautiful. Who could resist him?

''Not me.'', he whispered. The Vampire smiled.

''Please.'', he said in a weak, breathless voice. ''Please take off your mask!''

''No!'', said firmly the masked Vampire. He could see his eyes though. Gray, penetrating his very soul. His black domino mask covered most of his face and the transparent black vale that fell in front of his luscious mouth made it difficult for someone to recognize the stranger. But not him. He knew who he was.

He knew that he couldn't resist the Vampire. He knew his work, he knew that it was a sin, but he couldn't stop it! If he was going to burn in Purgatory let it be! This guilty, filthy desire he felt in that very moment was beyond his beliefs.

With a quick move he threw him on the bed. The Vampire's black cape fell gracefully above his shoulders and his purple shirt was open to the chest. The ethereal creature approached him with slow small steps, as if he was floating and not walking. Maybe he did.

He stood above him, looking at his victim. He was panting and was scared, but the unnatural desire drew him to that Vampire. He knew his was meant to die, he knew this was his last time on earth, but for some reason, some guilty pleasure... he didn't care.

The Vampire's eyes changed to a red colour. He licked his plump lips and kissed his victim. He was in shock. He couldn't move or respond. He just closed his eyes. The Vampire sucked his lips gently and the moment his wet tongue licked the lips of his victim, the moment he opened his mouth and tasted his killer, he knew he was lost.

The killer broke the kiss and looked at his victim. With one hand, he removed his mask and he gave him a devilish smile. He raised his weak hand and roamed his index finger over his luscious lips. The Vampire caught the finger between his teeth and licked the tip of it gently.

The Vampire let go of his finger and slowly lowered his head to the crook of his bleeding neck. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, warm soothing air fluttering over the scarlet surface, lapping the blood with his tongue, a guttural moan escaping his throat.

He looked at him again. Fire met blue.

His fangs elongated and with a sharp move he pierced the flesh. He drew a sharp breath and the stench of the Venetian canals combined with the coppery smell of blood, violated his nostrils. He clutched his attacker tight, as if this action would reduce the pain he caused him. A desperate soft cry escaped his lips, as he felt his blood been completely drained. His nose was stuck in his velvety raven locks inhaling sharply every time the Vampire swallowed. He smelled of wood and blood. So dead, yet so alive.

With a wet pop he dislodged his fangs from his neck, licking his lips to lap the excess blood.

The Vampire kissed his victim and this time he didn't fought back. How could he resist perfection? In all his life he had never seen something so sinful and beautiful at the same time.

''Mine.'', whispered the Vampire, caressing the mortals cheekbones.

He waited for an answer, a confirmation of his dominance. But he couldn't say it. He couldn't be his.

''Say it.'', said the Vampire.

''Y... yours.'', he stammered.

He looked into the Vampire icy eyes. He heard a voice. A different voice. A very familiar voice.

''JOHN!''

He saw his Vampire standing up slowly, leaving him on the mattress alone. This damn voice kept yelling at him, driving his Vampire away.

''JOHN WAKE UP!''

John's head snapped. His eyes opened so fast and wide that it hurt. He was panting and sweating.

He couldn't recognize his surroundings. He felt fear and panic. He tried to stand up but strong hands steadied him. He squirmed and started hitting his attacker.

''John calm down.'', yelled Greg. ''It's me your cousin, Greg! We are at the Valerious manor! Calm down.''

His words brought him back to reality. Yes. He knew where he was, he recognized his cousin.

'Greg... what happened?'', he asked in a shaky voice.

''I don't know John. You were unconscious for the last two days!'', he said and hugged his cousin tightly. ''You lost your senses when you came back from watching Dimitri and you didn't manage to tell us why.''

There was a knock on the door and Aurora got inside holding a cup of wine. She smiled when she saw the young man awake and approached. She placed the cup on the nightstand.

''You worried us Jonathan!'', she said and climbed on the big bed. ''You have many explanation to give.''

She froze. Her already pale face became gaunt and she backed away from John.

''Aurora, what's wrong.'', he asked suspiciously.

The little girl quickly retrieved one of Greg's daggers from his belt and crawled to John's side with the blade at hand.

''What the Hell are you doing?'', cried Greg and took the blade from her tiny hands.

''I... I won't hurt him. Greg look.'', she stammered and pointed at John's neck.

Greg approached and his eyes went wide. He swallowed.

''Greg?'', asked John, terrified from the looks both of them gave him.

Aurora took the dagger in her hands again and passed it to John. He took it and brought it to his eye level. He looked his reflection at the shiny smooth surface.

Two faint, yet visible teeth marks adorned his neck.

''You've been enslaved.'', whispered Aurora grimly.

Sherlock raised his fiddle stick from his violin's strings. He opened his eyes slowly. The instrument felt warm in his hands. He placed the reddish violin on its case and started wiping the stick's string with a silk cloth. He chuckled as he recalled his encounter. The man tasted better than he thought, but the blood he drank was just his soul. He craved his body, now that he had a chance to taste a sample of him. He knew that it would be intoxicating.

In those years since the day he was born, in those six centuries that he walked the earth, in all of his damned life where he balanced between the barrier of life and death, he had never tasted a man like him, like the little archer.

The first step was complete.

''Now you are mine John.''