FINALLY, the dreaded surprise that waits beyond the iron doors.
0.o
Enjoy.
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Chapter 11: The Laboratory
Sareesa squinted as she stepped into the darkness beyond the door. Slowly, she saw through the gloom and the sounds in her throat died as she looked at the room.
Blood.
Everywhere. Coating every surface, like some twisted butcher's shop.
And everywhere within the pools of crimson was a strange set of designs, scrawled with a violent looking hand, all edges and angles.
The next thing she notice was the light. It was not red, nor white, nor black. It was a sickly, faded green. Greener than her eyes, glowing like the dim aurora she had seen in her mortal years.
Then the smell; magic, pain, sweat, and the strange smells of animals and humans combined.
Rows and rows of bottles filled with potions, foully congealing ingrediants to spells and tattered books lay scattered haphazardly around the den.
She stepped over the wreck of a carefully slashed black iron table, glancing at the walls.
Long lists of- things. Names she couldn't understand.
A low squeal of fright drew her attention, and she looked around, scenting the air.
She screamed, her voice breaking as the terror rang in her veins. A creature- so vile, so twisted.
It looked horrible.. a cross between a human and a pig it seemed, a spell gone wrong.
Again the squeal, this time almost like words. The man-pig worked furiously, trying to speak around its bulbous snout, kicking madly with deformed hind legs and clasping the bars with its long, hard hands.
She fell, trying to get away from the creature. There was more like him. Maybe not identical, but all alike. Screaming for help, trying to escape. A fusion of man and beast, morphed and deformed. Cursed.
Her stomach heaved and she retched, the room twirling dangerously over her head as she struggled to stay conscious. The squeals of pigs and the cries of birds, mixed with half speech and pain filled her ears.
She crawled away from that section of the laboratory, and the noises fell silent, the creatures still reached out to her, every now and then pitiful wails erupted from that corner.
Sareesa swallowed hard as she staggered away, clutching a rotting bookcase as she walked drunkenly across the room.
Her mouth went dry as she walked closer to what seemed to be a delapidated writing desk, spattered in blood and faintly phospherescent fluids.
On the desk, sitting innocently, was a book. It was so out of place in that horrible, stinking room that she simply stared at it for a few moments, her claws clenched in her dressing gown as her breath came in short rasps.
The stench was unbearable as she leaned closer to the desk. The book was a black leather bound tome, gilt edges and completely untainted by any foulness.
Her stomach tingled as she brushed its cover with the tips of her fingers. Something in that book- something, called. It wanted to be opened. Wanted to be used.
Her eyes closed as she begged herself to stop her mad quest- as her fingers curled around the cover, and she threw the pages open.
Sareesa squeezed her eyes shut, determined not to read whatever foul magic lay there.
But it called. Its voice was a siren, pleading, cajoling, caressing- hissing, in a strange sensation that made her claws shoot out, digging into the leather cover and the wood of the desk.
Her eyes cracked open and she scanned the pages. Her eyes grew even wider as she continued to read down.
It was a journal.
There was no name, no place, nothing. There was just the continual scrawl of dates, and endless words of meaningless science and babble that meant nothing to her.
The she saw a faint enscription of a dragon, a symbol she had seen quite often.
Beneath it, were lines drawn to other symbols, inked precariously in a delicate hand.
It was some kind of- family tree. Whoever had written this entry was tracking the vampire families. Her mouth tightened and she bit her lip, fighting back a wave of terror as she continued reading.
Many symbols and branches of the tree were cut off entirely, apparently of no importance to the writer.
But a large, blood red circle of ink surrounded the dragon symbol.
Whatever the writer needed, Count Dracula was the one who held it.
Her mouth had tightened into a thin line, and she snapped the pages over, scanning and turning. Continuously, every few minutes, her hand reaching to turn the page as she devoured the journal.
The contents were at times, frightening. The writer admitted to horrendous crimes, murder, torture, rape; all of it was chronicled in this diary.
She sank into the chair as she continued to read, her now-black eyes never moving from the pages.
Then the entries began to change. A note of panic entered the writings. The writer was terrified. He could not stop the killings. He felt possessed to create the perfect "experiment".
He tried to remember what he did, but the memories slipped away.
The writer spoke of a sword that he possessed, long and made of silver. He said that it burned his skin, made him ache with pain, but somehow he resisted the pain of death it gave to so many others.
Her face grew paler. He was slaughtering vampires. Using them in his twisted quest. He was a vampire also, from his writings of fearing the silver sword.
Then he spoke of a gem; a gem so perfect and beautiful he found he could stare in its depths for hours, feeling great power within it.
She leaned back, wiping sweat from her pale forehead as she turned the page.
Then the entries changed once more.
Anticipation, excitement filled the writing now, and she sat forward, her hands fully changed now as she clutched the book.
I have found her. At last.
Oh my love, it was as if I had stepped through the gates of paradise.
She is beautiful, and strong. She is easily subdued. I found the seduction of her at our first meeting to be quite entertaining. The way she so boldly affronted me for entering her master's domain.
While I scoffed at her stupidity, I answered kindly, playing the innocent traveler.
My own kind; they never learn. Their infantile and pathetic ways of trusting others just because they share immortality. At least the ones I have- used.
I sense she is strong enough, her body powerful enough , to withstand the expirement.
I think that this time I will succeed.
I will finally be able to bring back the dead. My mission will be fulfilled, and you, my love, can finally stop cursing my life with your possessiveness.
A good thing my dearest love cannot read, for she is a gem.
A perfect gem.
So perfect, she is disgusting. Her power is too great. She says that in the right hands, the right ingredients and potency she can ressurect the dead.
And so I gave her part of my soul, as payment for her raising my power, my strength. She has made me invulnerable.
No one will stop me.
Not even Count Dracula.
No doubt he will wish to kill me, now that I have set my sights on his bride.
Sareesa's breathing stopped. Her chest tightened excruciatingly as she choked. Her talons dug into the wood.
Valdisdan was the cause of all this? He was this- wonderful, loving person, and now a hideous monster, sold into slavery by his own greed to a jewel that claimed power?
Fear crept along her spine as cold betrayal brushed her eyes, and she flinched as a tear splashed onto the journal's page.
Resolve filled her, and she continued reading the next entry.
She is here my love. Within the castle. With us.
She has given herself to me, finally. Her body is mine to command as I wish.
What a fool she is.
It is almost time. I have been laying in the water for the past few days, leaving only to comfort her when she is in need.
I can feel my power growing, and my body feels as if it is filled with ants, crawling with energy and jumping with the urge to kill.
How I long- but I will not enscribe this here.
I must prepare. Tonight I will perform the spell. Tonight I will call apon the most ancient of arts, mingling them together.
How I earned my name: The Alchemist.
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Bumbumbum...
CLIFFHANGER - cackles madly-
Sorry about the shorter chapter, but this works for my purpose, so hang in there.
Next chapter is on the waaaayyyyyyyyyyyy!!!