The early years of William the Bloody
Blood, sex and eternity
A CHANGE OF SCENES (part III)
By Richard Bachman
Anna brought us to a grand drawing room in which a comfortable fire was burning in the fireplace. The chamber was richly furnished, with Persian rugs covering the floor, and dark leather chairs surrounding a gleaming walnut coffee table. Tasteful reproductions of classic Roman statues and tall vases filled with fresh flowers embellishing each empty spot in the room. Three large portraits adorned the walls. One was of the cruel hearted blond beauty I had encountered the night I was turned, and one was of my enchanting Sire, her mysterious exquisiteness captured so truthfully in oil that her eyes seemed to follow me all around the room. Between these two life-sized paintings, just above the mantle of the fireplace, hung the impressive portrait of the master of the mansion; a broad shouldered gentleman with grim eyes and a vindictive smile on his thin lips. I grew morbid with fear as I observed this picture, for this was the same man who had so viciously retaliated on me for setting my Sire on fire. - Damaging his property, what I now fully understood as I looked upon these pictures of both women, exhibited here like proud game trophies of a hunt, owned by him and him alone.
What would become of me now, if that same sickly possessive man found me in his own residence, his desired wife or mistress or whatever my Sire was to him clutching lovingly on my arms?
Perhaps luckily, I did not have much time to ponder over this, for we had barely warmed ourselves by the fire or the glass panelled doors swung open, and the dreaded boogieman himself entered the room. My anxiety dropped a little, as I realized that he was in a cheerful mood, although I still feared that it could just be deceiving. Something in my guts told me that this man was not to be trusted, or one might lose his life by making that fatal mistake.
The tall man embraced my Sire, like a father would do to his daughter. He told her in a light Irish accent how worried he had been about her, since there were only two hours left before sunrise. My Sire giggled loudly and whispered something into his ears. He growled and reached with his hand down underneath her skirt, eliciting delighted moans from her throat as he touched her there where only a husband should reach.
I watched silently, and although I knew should be appalled, I felt my loins stir.
As he kissed her neck with an almost savage lust, his piercing eyes met mine. A sting of panic seized me. He pushed my Sire away from his embrace. His lips curved into a crude grin.
"And this must be that boy ye turned a couple of nights before. Still looks like a piece of dirt to me. Even smells like it."
He approached and studied me as if I was a horse or a cow on sale at a market. His presence was so demanding that I lowered my eyes in submission in an effort to avoid confrontation, just as I had learned during my incarceration in the asylum. He seemed to be pleased with my timidity and concluded with only an offensive joke on my expense.
"Dirt covered in dirt. I wonder how much will be left of him after Anna gives him a good cleaning."
"He's beautiful daddy. You'll see. A ruby hidden underneath crude layers of earth. If I polish him long and hard enough he will be all shiny and sparkly!"
"If ye say so my sparrow. But for now, let the maid try to make something out of him."
He turned away from me, visibly repulsed by my derelict appearance. He himself seemed to be a man of refined taste. He was dressed in a dark green velvet smoking jacket and ash grey trousers. His long hair was kept well tended into a short tail and instead of the scent of liquor and damp earth I had smelled on him nights before, he now wore the fragrant of soap and freshly washed clothing. Compared to this him, I appeared more like a beggar struggling on his last legs.
Anna was called, and although my Sire fist objected, her "daddy" insisted that I would be taken away to be tidied up before she was allowed to play with me, whatever that meant. I followed the housemaid upstairs to the second floor, where she brought me to my room, small and humbly furnished. There was a plain bed, a desk and a chair. A window provided a view outside on the back garden, in which presumably many of my Sire's lost pets could be found. Anna drew the curtains shut, giving me no-other explanation then that it would be dawn real soon. (I wonder if the legends about us are true. I've read in books on Eastern European mythology that people there believe that vampires - for that's what we are, I suspect - cannot stand the light of day and will turn into dust once exposed.) She left for a while before returning and informing me that she had prepared a hot bath and clean towels in the bathroom next door. I was extremely discomfited when she asked me to undress and step into the bathtub so she could clean me. I tried to argue with her. Tell her I preferred to take my bath in privacy and that I haven't been washed by anybody since I was a little boy. She replied coldly that her master had ordered her to perform this task and that she had to obey. Also, it wouldn't be wise for me to act against her master's wishes. Fearing that she was right, I did exactly what the young woman said. With cheeks flushing of utter embarrassment, I stepped into the bath. The steaming water felt hot against my cold skin. I allowed her to rub soap on my back with a raw sponge.
She worked hard on me, her face placid as if this was all perfectly normal, rasping my skin, washing my hair and rinsing off the suds like she was handling a child and not a full grown man. Soon my whole skin was tickling and flushed as badly as my cheeks.
The warm water had an almost intoxicating effect on me. My body felt terribly cold ever since I awoke from death. I guessed this must be natural for I also seemed to lack a heartbeat, which meant that my circulation was stagnant. But now with the warmth of the bathwater infusing into my stiff muscles, I started to feel much better.
The maid bended over me to soap in my chest. Lose curls escaped from the knot of red hair, and dangled in front of her green eyes. She looked as if she might be Irish. The bit of bare skin left uncovered by her collar on her long swan-like neck was fair as cream. I bowed towards her, sensing the warmth radiating from her hot, living body. The scent of her filled my nostrils.
Lavender and sweat.
Tears and blood.
Blood, pumping through every vessel of her body.
I swallowed. My mind straying off on its own, as I swore I could see the life giving fluid spread through her veins and arteries, drawing dark blue branches underneath her translucent skin. Listening quietly, I could hear her heartbeat quicken.
Thirst, that I had forgotten after my Sire took me home to see her lord, came back to me with increased intensity. Not only did it dry out my tongue and throat, but it also left me with a great wanting. An inexplicable desire that was much worse then any heartache I've ever felt before. Worse even then the restrained lust a man can feel for an exquisite woman. But what exactly did I desire?
I felt the skin on my face tighten, wrinkling like a drying prune. Bones were shifting. My brows, my jaw, my cheekbones were moving. Something was changing in me. I felt crude, savage even, like a crooked old tree whipped by the wind.
Her neck.
Her neck was all that I could see and smell.
I cannot recall exactly what had happened after that. Only perhaps that a red haze had suddenly appeared in front of my eyes and that there was this horrific, but also strangely delightful sense of frail bones crushing between my jaws, followed by a sensation of fulfillment, utter and complete.
When I regained full consciousness, I found myself half submerged in tepid fluid tainted the color of aortic blood. Anna's lifeless form sagged over one side of the tub. Ends of her hair waved in the discolored bathwater like bundles of red seaweed, her face sunken with just the tip of her nose breaking the placid surface.
A cloud of dark crimson spread steadily out of a wound at one side of her neck.
"What have you done to my maid, you sick, disgusting little worm!"
I froze. My heart quivered in shock. Not, as I now realize with the notion of guilt for murdering (Yes! I believe I have butchered her!) the poor servant, but with the fact I was caught in this incriminating mess by one of Angelus' women, while I was completely naked as on the day I was born.
The immaculate proud blond stood there in door opening, her face a clear depiction of her deep loathing.
"Do you any idea how difficult it is to find servants who are not afraid to work for us and keep their silence? And how dare you to kill her now, just before sunset? She will stench out the entire house before the day is over and we can move her into the back garden!"
I watched (Frightened, I must admit, although she was of course only a woman.) how she approached and grabbed the dead maid by her hair between two fingers, pulling her out of the water with much splashing. After she discarded the corpse thoughtlessly on the floor, she observed the stains on the white ceramic at the side of the tub and groaned, frustrated.
"You've let the blood soak into the tub."
Her hand reached out, fast and deadly, and grabbed me by my throat, (What is it with these creatures? Why are they so obsessed by handling their victims this particular way?) her slender fingers with carefully polished nails closing around me till it became extremely painful. At that moment, I was very grateful that I didn't need to breath to survive.
The blond observed me with eyes cold and indifferent, as if she was examining an insignificant bug or an annoying blot of dirt on her garment.
"I had just let this bathroom redecorated last month. This bathtub is made of Venetian porcelain, shipped to England all the way from a small workshop in Italy. It's special. It has tiny pores all over the surface to allow the warmth of the bathwater to be absorbed into the tub, keeping the water on temperature for a longer time, and I do like to take my baths nice and hot. The problem with this rather expensive luxury is. "
Her grip around my throat tightened, and I feared my days as a vampire would end tonight for my sometimes intolerable imaginative mind had already pictured her rupturing my vessels with her unwomanly brute strength, making my Sire's blood gush out of my ears.
"Stains don't go out well."
She hissed her last sentence like a snake, air barely escaping through the tiny crack between her lips. I tried to talk, reason with her. Beg her to allow me to pay penance and let me clean up the whole bleedin tub for her, but my words came out strangled. I was captured in deadly panic when I heard footsteps fall heavily behind my would-be executioner. The squeaking of hinges sounded as the bathroom door inched further open and a man spoke up, a hint of amusement sounding in his voice.
"So the boy had his first feed then."
The blond didn't glance over her shoulder, barely even moved.
"Angelus, I'm at the end of my patience here. Your delirious childe should know better. Bringing in these dirty, ill - mannered creatures into my house and causing such troubles! If only you would have the heart or the guts to discipline her better."
"Darla dear, you know she is rather difficult to handle."
"And whose fault is that, you think?"
At last she released me. I gagged and splashed back into the tub, my hands seizing my burning neck.
The blond named Darla watched me struggle with the same impervious frigid posture, then turned to Angelus, suddenly revealing vindictive anger as she looked at him.
"We already have one childe of yours that cannot function on her own. Because of her, we have to sacrifice a lot time and efforts to keep her from just wandering off into the streets by day. I don't need another one that soils our house and drools around like a complete idiot. You take care of him. Either discipline him well so I won't even notice he's here, or destroy him."
You can imagine that I was about to become mad with fear after the coldhearted vixen strolled out of the room, closing the door with a loud bang, and left me there, alone with her spouse.
Angelus seized me out the bath and threw me back into my room. There, he tossed me on the floor like I was nothing more but a discarded piece of clothing, and locked the door behind him.
I was convinced that no one could ever hear me scream inside that tiny space.
"We should talk, lad."
His voice wasn't unpleasant. It was calm, perhaps even fatherly. Still I was trembling.
"There are a few things ye ought to know if we decide that Drusilla is allowed to keep ye."
He paced around the small chamber, his eyes suddenly interested in more then staring at my face. I was startling naked. My skin slippery with soapy bathwater, with red suds dripping down my thighs. Having another man ogling at me while I was this exposed was extremely unnerving and demeaning. I swallowed, and tried to compose myself. Save what was left of my dignity.
"S-Sir I.I didn't mean to um.to eat your servant. Nor did I want to upset your.um.your wife. I d-do apologize."
"Aye, that's the problem William. It is William, isn't it?"
I nodded feverously. He could have called me anything, Billy or Bob or any other name, and still I would have nodded.
"The problem is William, that we're often tempted t' do a lot of things we were not meant t' do. Act first without thinking about the consequences. We vampires are very good at that."
He sat down on the bed, the springs objected loudly against his weight.
His eyes kept gorging on my body, and lingered far too long on my loins. I tried to shield my shame by closing my legs tight. I was still too afraid of unleashing his wrath to explicitly cover it using my hands.
An eerie smile appeared on Angelus' lips.
"Ye're cold lad?"
"No-No Sir."
His stare wandered from my flushed body up to face, my cheeks crimson, my eyes barely able to look back into his for I was too ashamed. He continued his speech as though there wasn't anything peculiar or embarrassing about the situation at all.
"As I said. We vampires can be professional cock-ups. Getting into all kinds of troubles, which could be easily avoided if one had the wit to use one's brains for a change. Let me assure you boy, a fledgling who goes around killing people like a bloody maniac, won't stay a vampire very long."
I nodded eagerly, though I had absolutely no idea what a fledgling was.
"That's why we all need discipline, rules t' live by." He assured me, sounding much like a clergyman or priest, his voice suddenly solemn. "Someone has t' teach these rules t' us. Or otherwise there will be utter chaos. Even I was taught by my mentor, and taught well."
I realized then that perhaps Darla had been more then a wife to him. There was a silent power that the woman possessed over this man, and it wouldn't surprise me if I found out later that the blond was in fact, his Sire.
"The problem here, William, is that your Sire isn't and will probably never be in an adequate state of mind to be able t' tutor ye in our ways. She is absolutely a delightful creature this nightshade of mine, but.well, she is also totally insane."
Angelus chuckled, as if he was sharing a good joke at the pub.
"She won't be able t' teach you anything, unless it's how t' get yourself prematurely killed the second time around, turned into a sweeping pile of dust, carried away by the wind."
"But-But, I'm willing to learn Sir." I said, fearing for my existence. "I don't want to complicate things on your behalf or on the good lady's. Please give me a chance."
My words came out as a desperate plead, although I didn't intend it to be. I guess I was just too struck by fear to control my own emotions. It wasn't wise to show it in front of this ruthless man, for I believed he was a predator who lived and thrived on a other man's misery, feeding on it like I've fed on poor Anna's blood, sucking the life out of his victims. However, for the moment, I was relieved to see him being pleased by my shameless begging.
"That's very good. Ye see William, I've no desire to keep ye around if ye're too insolent to be disciplined. But if ye're willing to adapt."
"I do Sir. I absolutely do."
"Then I'm willing to teach." His crude smile widened into a grin. "And ye'll be allowed t' join our blissful little family."
"I.I would be honored, Sir." I said while inside I repulsed the very thought of being totally subjected to this sickly minded, violent man.
"Very well, William" Angelus stood up from the bed and paced towards me. As his impressive form halted right in front of my shivering knees, I got the impression that I had just whored my body to the devil.
"From now on I will be your mentor."
His hand, strong and large, grabbed my chin and forced me to look up at him.
"I own ye now, boy. I own ye, like I own both my women. Ye better not forget that."
I swallowed and nodded again. One day my head will just fall off because of all that senseless nodding. I kept my mind blank on purpose for I was afraid that once I fully understood what he had really meant, I would start to scream, and never be able to stop again.
He left the room. I heard a click of a lock falling into place. Sullenly, I kept sitting on the floor for a very long time, till dim morning-light shimmered through the curtains, indicating that my first frightful night as a vampire was over. I struggled on my feet and stumbled over to the bed. Although I was tensed by anxiety and dread, my eyes felt heavy and as soon as my head rested on the rough linen pillows, I fell asleep. My dreams were vague. I can hardly remember them, which meant that they were thankfully not nightmares involving my new tormentors. I awoke when there was still daylight outside. A thin crack between the curtains revealed a pale blue sky with slices of clouds rimmed with gold drifting by. I wondered bitterly if that's all I will ever be able to see of the day from now on. Draping the blankets around myself in an attempt to regain my modesty, I tried the door, and found it (obviously) locked from the outside. Shortly, I considered breaking it, to bash in the door. (I knew almost for certain that I could do so physically, for my escape out of my coffin, and the impressive display of brutality of my captivators, convinced me that our kind possessed an unnatural strength.) However, the fear for attracting Angelus' wrath withheld me from doing so.
I was once again imprisoned, isolated with only my quickly deteriorating mind as my only company.
Punished.
I sat down at the desk, my mind drowning in total misery. In my boredom and despair, I drew open the drawers, and found, to my amazement, sheets of blank paper, a pot of ink and a pen.
Except for those, the drawers were empty.
In the retreating light of day, I started writing, casting my thoughts on paper, pouring my fears and anxieties on the blank sheets and sealing them in with blue inks, my mind settling down with every word I wrote.
As I opted before, writing is my only salvation, or you'll had been reading the ramblings of a madman by now.
The irony of my situation has not escaped me. At the very moment that my Sire turned me I had believed to be finally saved from the torment of existence. Of fear and endless suffering. Of cruel oppression by others. But in the end, everything just stayed the same. There were different actors. A change of scenes perhaps. But the same play remained.
I dread the nights to come.
- The END -
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ If you've read the whole lot, why not leave a review to let me know what you think of it? There should be sequel coming up on this one in the near future, right when I got the time to pen it down between my duties to finish my other fics that is.
Blood, sex and eternity
A CHANGE OF SCENES (part III)
By Richard Bachman
Anna brought us to a grand drawing room in which a comfortable fire was burning in the fireplace. The chamber was richly furnished, with Persian rugs covering the floor, and dark leather chairs surrounding a gleaming walnut coffee table. Tasteful reproductions of classic Roman statues and tall vases filled with fresh flowers embellishing each empty spot in the room. Three large portraits adorned the walls. One was of the cruel hearted blond beauty I had encountered the night I was turned, and one was of my enchanting Sire, her mysterious exquisiteness captured so truthfully in oil that her eyes seemed to follow me all around the room. Between these two life-sized paintings, just above the mantle of the fireplace, hung the impressive portrait of the master of the mansion; a broad shouldered gentleman with grim eyes and a vindictive smile on his thin lips. I grew morbid with fear as I observed this picture, for this was the same man who had so viciously retaliated on me for setting my Sire on fire. - Damaging his property, what I now fully understood as I looked upon these pictures of both women, exhibited here like proud game trophies of a hunt, owned by him and him alone.
What would become of me now, if that same sickly possessive man found me in his own residence, his desired wife or mistress or whatever my Sire was to him clutching lovingly on my arms?
Perhaps luckily, I did not have much time to ponder over this, for we had barely warmed ourselves by the fire or the glass panelled doors swung open, and the dreaded boogieman himself entered the room. My anxiety dropped a little, as I realized that he was in a cheerful mood, although I still feared that it could just be deceiving. Something in my guts told me that this man was not to be trusted, or one might lose his life by making that fatal mistake.
The tall man embraced my Sire, like a father would do to his daughter. He told her in a light Irish accent how worried he had been about her, since there were only two hours left before sunrise. My Sire giggled loudly and whispered something into his ears. He growled and reached with his hand down underneath her skirt, eliciting delighted moans from her throat as he touched her there where only a husband should reach.
I watched silently, and although I knew should be appalled, I felt my loins stir.
As he kissed her neck with an almost savage lust, his piercing eyes met mine. A sting of panic seized me. He pushed my Sire away from his embrace. His lips curved into a crude grin.
"And this must be that boy ye turned a couple of nights before. Still looks like a piece of dirt to me. Even smells like it."
He approached and studied me as if I was a horse or a cow on sale at a market. His presence was so demanding that I lowered my eyes in submission in an effort to avoid confrontation, just as I had learned during my incarceration in the asylum. He seemed to be pleased with my timidity and concluded with only an offensive joke on my expense.
"Dirt covered in dirt. I wonder how much will be left of him after Anna gives him a good cleaning."
"He's beautiful daddy. You'll see. A ruby hidden underneath crude layers of earth. If I polish him long and hard enough he will be all shiny and sparkly!"
"If ye say so my sparrow. But for now, let the maid try to make something out of him."
He turned away from me, visibly repulsed by my derelict appearance. He himself seemed to be a man of refined taste. He was dressed in a dark green velvet smoking jacket and ash grey trousers. His long hair was kept well tended into a short tail and instead of the scent of liquor and damp earth I had smelled on him nights before, he now wore the fragrant of soap and freshly washed clothing. Compared to this him, I appeared more like a beggar struggling on his last legs.
Anna was called, and although my Sire fist objected, her "daddy" insisted that I would be taken away to be tidied up before she was allowed to play with me, whatever that meant. I followed the housemaid upstairs to the second floor, where she brought me to my room, small and humbly furnished. There was a plain bed, a desk and a chair. A window provided a view outside on the back garden, in which presumably many of my Sire's lost pets could be found. Anna drew the curtains shut, giving me no-other explanation then that it would be dawn real soon. (I wonder if the legends about us are true. I've read in books on Eastern European mythology that people there believe that vampires - for that's what we are, I suspect - cannot stand the light of day and will turn into dust once exposed.) She left for a while before returning and informing me that she had prepared a hot bath and clean towels in the bathroom next door. I was extremely discomfited when she asked me to undress and step into the bathtub so she could clean me. I tried to argue with her. Tell her I preferred to take my bath in privacy and that I haven't been washed by anybody since I was a little boy. She replied coldly that her master had ordered her to perform this task and that she had to obey. Also, it wouldn't be wise for me to act against her master's wishes. Fearing that she was right, I did exactly what the young woman said. With cheeks flushing of utter embarrassment, I stepped into the bath. The steaming water felt hot against my cold skin. I allowed her to rub soap on my back with a raw sponge.
She worked hard on me, her face placid as if this was all perfectly normal, rasping my skin, washing my hair and rinsing off the suds like she was handling a child and not a full grown man. Soon my whole skin was tickling and flushed as badly as my cheeks.
The warm water had an almost intoxicating effect on me. My body felt terribly cold ever since I awoke from death. I guessed this must be natural for I also seemed to lack a heartbeat, which meant that my circulation was stagnant. But now with the warmth of the bathwater infusing into my stiff muscles, I started to feel much better.
The maid bended over me to soap in my chest. Lose curls escaped from the knot of red hair, and dangled in front of her green eyes. She looked as if she might be Irish. The bit of bare skin left uncovered by her collar on her long swan-like neck was fair as cream. I bowed towards her, sensing the warmth radiating from her hot, living body. The scent of her filled my nostrils.
Lavender and sweat.
Tears and blood.
Blood, pumping through every vessel of her body.
I swallowed. My mind straying off on its own, as I swore I could see the life giving fluid spread through her veins and arteries, drawing dark blue branches underneath her translucent skin. Listening quietly, I could hear her heartbeat quicken.
Thirst, that I had forgotten after my Sire took me home to see her lord, came back to me with increased intensity. Not only did it dry out my tongue and throat, but it also left me with a great wanting. An inexplicable desire that was much worse then any heartache I've ever felt before. Worse even then the restrained lust a man can feel for an exquisite woman. But what exactly did I desire?
I felt the skin on my face tighten, wrinkling like a drying prune. Bones were shifting. My brows, my jaw, my cheekbones were moving. Something was changing in me. I felt crude, savage even, like a crooked old tree whipped by the wind.
Her neck.
Her neck was all that I could see and smell.
I cannot recall exactly what had happened after that. Only perhaps that a red haze had suddenly appeared in front of my eyes and that there was this horrific, but also strangely delightful sense of frail bones crushing between my jaws, followed by a sensation of fulfillment, utter and complete.
When I regained full consciousness, I found myself half submerged in tepid fluid tainted the color of aortic blood. Anna's lifeless form sagged over one side of the tub. Ends of her hair waved in the discolored bathwater like bundles of red seaweed, her face sunken with just the tip of her nose breaking the placid surface.
A cloud of dark crimson spread steadily out of a wound at one side of her neck.
"What have you done to my maid, you sick, disgusting little worm!"
I froze. My heart quivered in shock. Not, as I now realize with the notion of guilt for murdering (Yes! I believe I have butchered her!) the poor servant, but with the fact I was caught in this incriminating mess by one of Angelus' women, while I was completely naked as on the day I was born.
The immaculate proud blond stood there in door opening, her face a clear depiction of her deep loathing.
"Do you any idea how difficult it is to find servants who are not afraid to work for us and keep their silence? And how dare you to kill her now, just before sunset? She will stench out the entire house before the day is over and we can move her into the back garden!"
I watched (Frightened, I must admit, although she was of course only a woman.) how she approached and grabbed the dead maid by her hair between two fingers, pulling her out of the water with much splashing. After she discarded the corpse thoughtlessly on the floor, she observed the stains on the white ceramic at the side of the tub and groaned, frustrated.
"You've let the blood soak into the tub."
Her hand reached out, fast and deadly, and grabbed me by my throat, (What is it with these creatures? Why are they so obsessed by handling their victims this particular way?) her slender fingers with carefully polished nails closing around me till it became extremely painful. At that moment, I was very grateful that I didn't need to breath to survive.
The blond observed me with eyes cold and indifferent, as if she was examining an insignificant bug or an annoying blot of dirt on her garment.
"I had just let this bathroom redecorated last month. This bathtub is made of Venetian porcelain, shipped to England all the way from a small workshop in Italy. It's special. It has tiny pores all over the surface to allow the warmth of the bathwater to be absorbed into the tub, keeping the water on temperature for a longer time, and I do like to take my baths nice and hot. The problem with this rather expensive luxury is. "
Her grip around my throat tightened, and I feared my days as a vampire would end tonight for my sometimes intolerable imaginative mind had already pictured her rupturing my vessels with her unwomanly brute strength, making my Sire's blood gush out of my ears.
"Stains don't go out well."
She hissed her last sentence like a snake, air barely escaping through the tiny crack between her lips. I tried to talk, reason with her. Beg her to allow me to pay penance and let me clean up the whole bleedin tub for her, but my words came out strangled. I was captured in deadly panic when I heard footsteps fall heavily behind my would-be executioner. The squeaking of hinges sounded as the bathroom door inched further open and a man spoke up, a hint of amusement sounding in his voice.
"So the boy had his first feed then."
The blond didn't glance over her shoulder, barely even moved.
"Angelus, I'm at the end of my patience here. Your delirious childe should know better. Bringing in these dirty, ill - mannered creatures into my house and causing such troubles! If only you would have the heart or the guts to discipline her better."
"Darla dear, you know she is rather difficult to handle."
"And whose fault is that, you think?"
At last she released me. I gagged and splashed back into the tub, my hands seizing my burning neck.
The blond named Darla watched me struggle with the same impervious frigid posture, then turned to Angelus, suddenly revealing vindictive anger as she looked at him.
"We already have one childe of yours that cannot function on her own. Because of her, we have to sacrifice a lot time and efforts to keep her from just wandering off into the streets by day. I don't need another one that soils our house and drools around like a complete idiot. You take care of him. Either discipline him well so I won't even notice he's here, or destroy him."
You can imagine that I was about to become mad with fear after the coldhearted vixen strolled out of the room, closing the door with a loud bang, and left me there, alone with her spouse.
Angelus seized me out the bath and threw me back into my room. There, he tossed me on the floor like I was nothing more but a discarded piece of clothing, and locked the door behind him.
I was convinced that no one could ever hear me scream inside that tiny space.
"We should talk, lad."
His voice wasn't unpleasant. It was calm, perhaps even fatherly. Still I was trembling.
"There are a few things ye ought to know if we decide that Drusilla is allowed to keep ye."
He paced around the small chamber, his eyes suddenly interested in more then staring at my face. I was startling naked. My skin slippery with soapy bathwater, with red suds dripping down my thighs. Having another man ogling at me while I was this exposed was extremely unnerving and demeaning. I swallowed, and tried to compose myself. Save what was left of my dignity.
"S-Sir I.I didn't mean to um.to eat your servant. Nor did I want to upset your.um.your wife. I d-do apologize."
"Aye, that's the problem William. It is William, isn't it?"
I nodded feverously. He could have called me anything, Billy or Bob or any other name, and still I would have nodded.
"The problem is William, that we're often tempted t' do a lot of things we were not meant t' do. Act first without thinking about the consequences. We vampires are very good at that."
He sat down on the bed, the springs objected loudly against his weight.
His eyes kept gorging on my body, and lingered far too long on my loins. I tried to shield my shame by closing my legs tight. I was still too afraid of unleashing his wrath to explicitly cover it using my hands.
An eerie smile appeared on Angelus' lips.
"Ye're cold lad?"
"No-No Sir."
His stare wandered from my flushed body up to face, my cheeks crimson, my eyes barely able to look back into his for I was too ashamed. He continued his speech as though there wasn't anything peculiar or embarrassing about the situation at all.
"As I said. We vampires can be professional cock-ups. Getting into all kinds of troubles, which could be easily avoided if one had the wit to use one's brains for a change. Let me assure you boy, a fledgling who goes around killing people like a bloody maniac, won't stay a vampire very long."
I nodded eagerly, though I had absolutely no idea what a fledgling was.
"That's why we all need discipline, rules t' live by." He assured me, sounding much like a clergyman or priest, his voice suddenly solemn. "Someone has t' teach these rules t' us. Or otherwise there will be utter chaos. Even I was taught by my mentor, and taught well."
I realized then that perhaps Darla had been more then a wife to him. There was a silent power that the woman possessed over this man, and it wouldn't surprise me if I found out later that the blond was in fact, his Sire.
"The problem here, William, is that your Sire isn't and will probably never be in an adequate state of mind to be able t' tutor ye in our ways. She is absolutely a delightful creature this nightshade of mine, but.well, she is also totally insane."
Angelus chuckled, as if he was sharing a good joke at the pub.
"She won't be able t' teach you anything, unless it's how t' get yourself prematurely killed the second time around, turned into a sweeping pile of dust, carried away by the wind."
"But-But, I'm willing to learn Sir." I said, fearing for my existence. "I don't want to complicate things on your behalf or on the good lady's. Please give me a chance."
My words came out as a desperate plead, although I didn't intend it to be. I guess I was just too struck by fear to control my own emotions. It wasn't wise to show it in front of this ruthless man, for I believed he was a predator who lived and thrived on a other man's misery, feeding on it like I've fed on poor Anna's blood, sucking the life out of his victims. However, for the moment, I was relieved to see him being pleased by my shameless begging.
"That's very good. Ye see William, I've no desire to keep ye around if ye're too insolent to be disciplined. But if ye're willing to adapt."
"I do Sir. I absolutely do."
"Then I'm willing to teach." His crude smile widened into a grin. "And ye'll be allowed t' join our blissful little family."
"I.I would be honored, Sir." I said while inside I repulsed the very thought of being totally subjected to this sickly minded, violent man.
"Very well, William" Angelus stood up from the bed and paced towards me. As his impressive form halted right in front of my shivering knees, I got the impression that I had just whored my body to the devil.
"From now on I will be your mentor."
His hand, strong and large, grabbed my chin and forced me to look up at him.
"I own ye now, boy. I own ye, like I own both my women. Ye better not forget that."
I swallowed and nodded again. One day my head will just fall off because of all that senseless nodding. I kept my mind blank on purpose for I was afraid that once I fully understood what he had really meant, I would start to scream, and never be able to stop again.
He left the room. I heard a click of a lock falling into place. Sullenly, I kept sitting on the floor for a very long time, till dim morning-light shimmered through the curtains, indicating that my first frightful night as a vampire was over. I struggled on my feet and stumbled over to the bed. Although I was tensed by anxiety and dread, my eyes felt heavy and as soon as my head rested on the rough linen pillows, I fell asleep. My dreams were vague. I can hardly remember them, which meant that they were thankfully not nightmares involving my new tormentors. I awoke when there was still daylight outside. A thin crack between the curtains revealed a pale blue sky with slices of clouds rimmed with gold drifting by. I wondered bitterly if that's all I will ever be able to see of the day from now on. Draping the blankets around myself in an attempt to regain my modesty, I tried the door, and found it (obviously) locked from the outside. Shortly, I considered breaking it, to bash in the door. (I knew almost for certain that I could do so physically, for my escape out of my coffin, and the impressive display of brutality of my captivators, convinced me that our kind possessed an unnatural strength.) However, the fear for attracting Angelus' wrath withheld me from doing so.
I was once again imprisoned, isolated with only my quickly deteriorating mind as my only company.
Punished.
I sat down at the desk, my mind drowning in total misery. In my boredom and despair, I drew open the drawers, and found, to my amazement, sheets of blank paper, a pot of ink and a pen.
Except for those, the drawers were empty.
In the retreating light of day, I started writing, casting my thoughts on paper, pouring my fears and anxieties on the blank sheets and sealing them in with blue inks, my mind settling down with every word I wrote.
As I opted before, writing is my only salvation, or you'll had been reading the ramblings of a madman by now.
The irony of my situation has not escaped me. At the very moment that my Sire turned me I had believed to be finally saved from the torment of existence. Of fear and endless suffering. Of cruel oppression by others. But in the end, everything just stayed the same. There were different actors. A change of scenes perhaps. But the same play remained.
I dread the nights to come.
- The END -
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ If you've read the whole lot, why not leave a review to let me know what you think of it? There should be sequel coming up on this one in the near future, right when I got the time to pen it down between my duties to finish my other fics that is.