Two
Marked Chattel

No one can mistake the essence of fear, whether it is the fear of an immortal, or a mortal. How cold fear is, and how beautiful. Such an emotion that is so endearing in the bitterness of ice chill.

She had been so certain of her task, and so determined. Even now she fought against this situation, but she did so with doubt, doubt and fear. I could see it within her eyes, and savoured every moment, relishing in the fact that I could so easily over power her, that the fear she felt was due to me.

I would grace her soul and terrify her with my shadow. She could not hide from me, and I took pleasure in the thoughts that graced my mind. I was hunting her, sensing her fear. Her fear led me to her, and no matter where she hid and cowered; I would always seek her out.

I narrowed my eyes and surveyed the scene. Those of my children that had been apart of this chaotic gathering, came close to, their teeth bared, their eyes aglow. And I enjoyed every moment of it. I would not be who I am if I had not.

The way her eyes widened as the coldness of the blade tenderly kissed her throat. Darkly, I wondered what reaction she would give if instead of that blade held steady to her throat, it were but me. Instead of the sharpness of the sword's edge, cutting lightly into her skin, it was but my lips, softly touching the warm membrane of skin – like a kiss, feeling the palpitation below, the echoed of blood flow, as her heart beat. Like Zephon I loved them, and I would hurt them all. I hungered for their blood as much as the next vampire, how could I not?

I would mark her as mine; run my claws cruelly down her skin, calling forth the blood that remained below the surface, so that I could drink from it. Wanting to taste her blood, to mingle her pure 'innocent' blood with the so-called 'filth' of my own.

I loved her because I hated her. Hated her because of the act she had carried out. And loved her for the blood that flowed through her, the blood that could quench the first that was always there inside of us. And hated her because she was mortal. She represented everything we loathed, as we to them stood to be everything they found 'disgusting' and 'unnatural'. What did they know? It was in my own nature to despise her, in times such as these – cruelty is the only path to choose if one wishes to survive.

"Brother," Zephon's voice cut through my thinking. "You hesitate?" That twisted smile once more, the one he would allow to show in moments where he was truly enjoying himself. "Is it your wish to make this duty mine?"

Oh I knew that he wanted this. I knew that he wanted to torment her for his own pleasure. How he would love to have her close, kissing, and soothing, and feeding from her.

With a drawn out slowness, he ran one of his claws along the soft cheek of her face, as if to trace a pattern that only he could see. She flinched but could not move away, held firm by him. Yet I have no doubts that should Zephon had loosened his grip, she would have remained there anyway. Sometimes darkness can be so alluring.

"And so appealing she is." A whisper, a hush of breath that gently stroked her skin. Then in leaning over, my younger brother rested his venomous lips next to her neck. "If you ask for forgiveness, I could make you mine."

The words lingered within the air. Of course he did not mean it. Zephon world kill her regardless, for he did not need anymore 'pets' then the ones he had now, and his fledgling brood were managing fairly well. No, for now, Zephon could enjoy merely tormenting humanity without needing to rely on them.

Little by little he pushed the edge of my sword away from her neck. This was purely a game to him. I allowed him to, allowing him to weave the bitter and beguiling act that he spun between us, both held within trepidation.

"But first, you have to ask for forgiveness," Zephon said, and he pointed at me with one of his claws. Her eyes followed wearily, until it was mine were focussed upon hers. The predatory glow that radiated from me made fear hold tightly onto her. I saw her eyes flicker as I narrowed my own; I was not just frowning at her, but also Zephon.

"Look upon Lord Rahab..." Zephon's voice was calm, chilling, dark, and yet gentle. 'What are you planning,' I thought, watching him carry on this charade. When Zephon spoke and acted in such a manner you could always guarantee that he was plotting something.

Unexpectedly her arms dropped to her sides, as Zephon released his grasp. Of course this was done for his own advantage. For now he encircled her waste, pulling her even closer so that when he so choose, and at his own accord, he could feed from her with ease.

With his other hand Zephon continued to caress the side of her face, taking the long, slender and sharp point of his index claw and drawing it along her neck. He did it lightly and in such a fashion so that no blood was drawn, yet a gesture was forged.

"Look upon Lord Rahab, and ask him to forgive you."

Silence bayed her gentle hand upon the scene. Any fledglings that had gathered around us were quite. Mine were tense and pressing so close to me that I could feel the nearest one's pulsation of blood. Their teeth still showed, whilst every now and then a hiss would escape their lips.

'Be still...' I told my children through mind, and although they obeyed me, they also readied themselves to take action if it was so needed at any given moment.

Melchiah stood behind me. He too, was silent. In a way he was merely the watcher, watching Zephon and me unravel this situation, with a fascination that only a younger sibling could hold in watching their elder ones fight amongst themselves.

The tension was strong, and kept on building, like two heavy weights pulling at opposite ends on a worn piece of rope. I was certain that at any point that rope was indeed going to break – break and snap. It was truth that I could not bare the tautness of the situation anymore so.

If I was to bring a close upon her life then had I not better get on with it? Instead of bringing this heavy prolonged suffering upon everyone else. For it seemed only Zephon was enjoying this.

I paused in thinking and concluded my thoughts. If I killed, like I had so planned to, Zephon would enjoy it more. It I was to end this pitiful mortal's life then in theory, Zephon would win this battle. Could I allow such a thing? In my status, in my position, in the fact that I was older then him... Zephon had to know his place, for it was how the clans and Lord Kain's council was run.

But the certainty remained firm inside of me. I ached for a taste of blood. It became apparent that not only was Zephon playing with her emotions, but also my own. Tempting me to only desire the taste of blood. This was a dangerous and reckless situation to be in; even the youngest fledgling knows that.

"Enough..." The words barely left my lips. My mouth felt as parched and as dry as any dehydrated mortal's would have in thirsting for water. But the element I desired to consume was a lot more complex then water. No one had to die when a mortal thirsted.

Oh and this feeling! This feeling of just wanting to plunge my teeth into flesh, to gentle tear open ones throat, and enjoy with raw rapture what would come from such an act.

But I was not Zephon. True, I was a vampire, but I was not he. I was not Zephon, Zephon who insisted in provoking his prey, before drawing a close to their lives. I was different from the Zephonim Lord, for was I not nobler then that? If I was going to kill the mortal then I would do so for the sake of feeding, not through the joy of torment.

"Enough of your games, Zephon. Come, allow me to conclude this."

Zephon spoke no more. He was silenced completely, with no witty comments or comebacks to finalise the situation.

In retort of the situation, I eyed the flag that lay uselessly on the dirty and bloodstained ground. Its coarse material was already stained with blood and filth. How useful was it now? And then... and then I am not sure. The sight of the flag upon the floor, its texture distilled, tattered, ragged, and the noise around us. There was a smell of blood that lingered upon the air. It was enough in itself to arouse my thirst for blood. The night was worn, and it ached for an ending, a conclusion, as if it too desired rest, after having seen enough blood spilt to cover many canvases in a riot of ruddy crimson. What a waste of blood.

The rational thinker within me has always been perceptible. From the desires of what I want, so it is that I am balanced with the desire of what is right. Though not necessarily right in mortal opinion, I might add. Raziel once stated that I possessed a nobility that none of the others had. A certain way of thinking that allowed me not just to simply react on the spur of the moment, but also to think thing through carefully, and from which, make a desirable decision.

It became apparent nevertheless, that I hovered between two final outcomes. One would swing the pendulum of events one way, the other, would of course, push it another. Whatever way it was to go, fate was eager for an answer, for an outcome, a conclusion. No more words, just an action.

My blade, arching once more, was swift in movement, striking forwards so that it would hit its target dead on. There was no hesitation within my action and movement, for there was no reason to hesitate, just react and allow the consequences to play themselves out afterwards.

The blade passed the targets core gently, just gracing the surface and brushing underneath. My blade touched the rough flesh briefly, and then rested there. But it was not her flesh. Instead it was but the flesh and rough material of the flag.

I lifted the flag up; it rested upon the edge of my blade. I brought it swiftly to me, and held it up close to my face so that I could see the damage more closely.

Once more I glanced upon the grime imbedded deep within its textile. How fine it had once been, a materialistic reference to my clan. The insignia upon the flag still remained clear despite the damage... It could be mended, with patience. Yet it was not the damage of the flag that had riled the others – more so my children. It was more the gesture; the gesture of burning our flag was routed deep in spite and in insult. She wished us harm.

More moments passed. My brood were now all listening and waiting, feeling my own emotion through the spiritual blood bond that we all shared. They tilted upon the very edge of advance, and once more I settled them with words that only they could hear.

'Hush my children. Be still and calm, no harm has come yet.'

With one last look, my eyes rested upon Zephon. That smile upon his face was still present, willing me to do what was 'right'... My right...

Distantly I watched our captive flinch as my eyes fell upon her. It was like she expected and waited for the final conclusion, for the cold metal of my sword to run her through at any given moment. In a way it was as if she was willing me to do it, like if I was to strike her down I was fortifying her opinions and beliefs of vampires even more so. I would be fortifying her hatred.

To kill her would be allowing her thoughts on us to become a reality, the fact that we were basically monstrous, cold-blooded fiends. Would she die with a smile upon her face? I would not give Zephon, or her hatred, the satisfaction of such.

Lord Kain has always said that, 'there can be far worse things then death.' And looking back, I can see that he was right.

Though my blade now hovered in front of her, it was not done in a gesture of threat, or of hurt. The flag still hung over and balanced upon the edge of the blade, suspended and held in front of her.

"Take it," I said. My voice remained firm, yet deep inside there was a potent edge that suggested I was more then slightly weary of this situation. I was torn between bloody torment and just wanting to find solace in rest.

In many ways I desired to return to my own home, and I was not the only one restless. My children too, wished to return to our domain, to heal their wounds and sing glorious songs of our victories. This campaign had been a long one indeed. But we had taken part at Lord Kain's behest, and we would – I would, never question him. My creator, my sire, my Lord, throughout it all, no matter what, I would remain by his side.

There had been no need for all the Clan Lords to be present in this campaign of 'land rights and ownership', but Lord Kain never takes chances, nor is he one to do things in half-measure. If there is land to be brought under his control then he will take it, no matter what. You can be sure of that. And so we had strove forth, our finest warriors selected – while the rest remained at home.

'Let us end this now,'I thought, as still the flag hung in a listless bliss in front of her, offering her way out. 'Let us return home.'

Whether the young woman would take the flag was another matter entirely. Yet I relied on her to take it, relied on her deeply. One foolish move and she would be cutting her own throat. Though I admit openly that it would be I who would be the one to rush forwards, take her in, and drink greedily from her, not caring if she was dying in my arms.

"Take it." Again my voice. If she did not take it this time then her fate would truly be sealed with a signature of her own refusal. I offered her a way out, a way out for both her and myself.

The young woman's hands wavered a little, but the Zephonim Lord was firm in his hold.

"Release her Zephon, she cannot flee." Yet again I narrowed my eyes, this being but the final moment. Zephon gazed at me in a passive and somewhat lazy manner predatorily manner. He released his grip on one of her hands, and yet made no effort to release the other. It mattered not a lot, for next I thrust the blade further in front of her, and then tilted it, allowing the flag to fall.

A requiem collaborated with her own choice – the one that I had offered to her. Now we waited for a response. If she did not take the flag then it was fair enough, after all it was her decision. There was nothing to fear in all honesty for if she did not accept my proposition nothing would go to waste. Consequently I was thirsting.

The flag drifted ever downwards in no rampant manner. And the response she made was one I welcomed slightly. With the swift movement of her free hand, she reached out for the flag and grasped at it. She had been swift to respond, holding tightly onto it with an unsure curiosity.

"Now. Release her fully brother, I will take care of the situation from here."

Zephon scowled in a manner that radiated disapproval, and one that was obviously suggesting that he was not going to abide by my request.

"She holds my flag, Zephon. Indeed it was my flag she intended to burn. By fate she is marked as my property." I reminded him in the calmest of manner. If I had been Dumah I would not have been so polite. But then if that had been the case, and it had been Dumah in this situation and not I – being who Dumah was – he would have snatched the young woman from Zephon's restraints and fed off her without another thought. And Zephon would have been delighted.

"You are not serious," he hissed. His fledglings responded through their own hisses, sensing their master's displeasure.

In taking the flag so the young woman had fallen under my mark and insignia, in such a case she was now mine, and Zephon full of endearing arrogance had not even fathomed what it was I was doing. That from such a gesture I was depriving him of a feed, and of course a moment of seeing yet another one suffer. Whatever he had planned, I knew from the beginning that even if I had played his game, it would not have been my feed, for Zephon was simply teasing me and challenging my position above him. It was something that happened within the clans all the time. We are, after all, predators, and it is but in our nature to challenge the hierarchy, though never Lord Kain. Lord Kain is someone who, if you know what is good for you, you will distance yourself from. Lord Kain, 'The Devourer of Worlds', he certainly did not get that title from being the gentlest creature.

Thus this fight was finalised. If I were to feed from the young woman, then I would do so at my own accord, and only then, not through Zephon's provoking.

My younger brother's face was sour due to the missing exhilaration that he was not going to have.

"Do you quarrel with my rights, Zephon," I asked, raising my eyebrows in suspicion. Surely not even he would be foolish enough to argue with his older sibling. It was an unwritten rule that we naturally respected the decisions and the say of those older than us. To not do so had its consequences. Yet that's not to say, as I said before, that the rule was not bent or totally discarded at times.

If at any point the tension threatened to shatter, it was now. Between us the atmosphere remained jagged and sharp, Zephon looking sly, whilst I breathed calm. My one set of claws were clenched, this was the only hint of the tension I was truly feeling.

"Calm yourself, Zephon." Raziel's voice suddenly broke through the atmosphere before any dispute erupted. Raziel, our eldest brother – the one who always finalised the disputes of matters, and always had the last word. The only person Raziel answered to was Lord Kain, and he never abused this power, whereas I dread to think what Zephon would have been like if he had been the eldest. No, I do not dread the thought, I fear it.

As one of my brethren, I loved Zephon dearly, if 'love' is the right word to use between vampiric kind, but I would – I could – never trust him. Those who did embraced poison and met their demise at the kiss of the spider.

I turned to acknowledge our eldest, and no doubts Lord Kain's favourite amongst us – his first son, and second in command.

With Raziel, walking towards us, came Turel. Both of them were supporting a wounded Dumah. Ah yes, there was a revelation, Dumah the warlord of us all, the true warrior. Where as Zephon had a certain deviousness and slyness to him, Dumah was fierce and merciless at a majority of times.

Like Zephon, Dumah enjoyed tormenting humanity, whilst my own opinion remained blank. To say the very least I had no real thought towards humanity. I would not hesitate to kill one, should one annoy me, but I tolerated them perhaps a little more then most did. Maybe this was because I knew that to survive we needed the nourishment of blood. This of course, came from our human counterparts, and without them we would not have endured all the long centuries that we had. Our first conflict with them was not to destroy their race, but to simply bring them under our control. Lord Kain had always said that they were our cattle, a phrase which, not to disgrace my sire's honour, he gained from the vampire Vorador.

"What disturbance is this," Raziel asked, shifting Dumah slightly to support his weight.

Dumah's face was distilled with slight pain, arrogance and yet even more stubbornness then I had yet to see on his face. He, being the type who is wounded in battle and yet hates to admit defeat, and then goes on to refuse help from any that might offer it to him. This time, however, it seemed he had made a reluctant truce with the two brothers who helped in.

Though I worried for Dumah, and had not the situation been tense between Zephon and I, then I would have laughed to see him like that. Not through mockery, nay, more one of affection – for one so fierce and yet... yet this scene.

Those chosen of his children prattled somewhere nearby. And every one of his children felt his every wheezing breath of pain that he felt. And every time he flinched in movement, as the pain snared him, then so they did too. Oh and I could see the desire that they felt in wanting to go to him, to comfort him, to help heal him, to exchange some of their own blood with him to help heal him faster. But they held back, knowing all to well that Dumah's nature was a fierce one, and that he was liable to strike out at anyone of them who dared to come close.

From a distance I pitied them, and wondered whether Dumah ever found a certain loneliness in the seclusion he dealt himself. Yet it seemed not to bother him. Where as I was close to my clan, and yearned to feel their minds within my own, and yearned for their closeness, Dumah felt entirely different in regard to his clan. To him there were just a legion, one of his many. Soldiers, guards, knights, and nothing more.

Raziel's manner suggested that there was something of importance to discuss, and that we were to have council. For you could see it so, his emotion displayed upon his face and shown constantly throughout his eyes, that look of seriousness and unfaltering duty.

"Bring this fledgling-like brawl to an end," Raziel ordered, his voice stern, whilst he gazed deeply at Zephon and then at me. "There are more important issues to consider. Rahab, Zephon, Melchiah – finalise your orders and then come."

The Razielim were swift to take control, obeying Raziel's commands before he had even spoken them, just knowing what it was he wanted and desired through thought and mind. This was how strict and orderly the Razielim were, and it is not hard to see why there were considered Lord Kain's finest vampiric brood.

The gathering around us dispersed. It was not unaccustomed for the Razielim and Turelim to set our own fledglings in order, making sure that whilst they carried out their commands the others carried out theirs as well.

Orders were passed on from myself to my own personal generals; hitherto my perceptiveness was still upon Zephon just to make sure that no foul play was created. And with an acute passiveness he released the young woman fully.

She stared at the scenery around us. It was just her, Zephon and I now, Melchiah having gone to organise the Melchiahim. We were standing still, whilst around us it seemed the scenery moved.

Uncertainty and apprehension held the young woman still. Even if her desire would have been to flee, and I am certain it would have been, she would not have gotten far because of the ambiguity she felt.

It was I who approached her. Zephon still lingered in the background. And then, devoid of warning I struck her suddenly, my claws catching the skin upon her face sharply. She fell to the floor; blood coming from the mark my claws had left.

In that moment, what I had done was nothing compared to what the others would have done. In the act of what she had forged – some might call 'blasphemy' – a vampire like Dumah would have just silenced her and left it as that, as would have Zephon.

But something needed to be done, something to show that I was not allowing her to escape my wrath. And I was not. For just because I had let her live meant nothing... sometimes, as I have said before, at to once again quote my Lord Kain – 'there are some things that are far more worse then death.' Perhaps now I can say that I know exactly what he means. Being trapped in your own hideous body might be one of them.

My reaction had been the final consequence to her act. Shown as a display of 'making an example', in pointing out that I was not a lord to be taken lightly.

Upon the floor she lay on her side, merely a fallen image in some terrible lament that she hoped she could escape. I noticed how it was everyone around us had stopped at that moment, and with a grim fascination they awaited what would happen next with baited breaths. I am glad they saw that moment, for it only highlighted my point, and from this lessons could be learnt – not underestimate or insult the Rahabim.

Gradually, with slight hesitation, she sat up. Her hand automatically rested upon her face. The blood that flowed lightly was most appealing, but I was stern with myself and upheld the firmest of discipline, moving away slightly, for her own sake. At least now she understood who was in control.

Slowly the clans resumed their tasks and orders, carrying on like nothing had happened. What I had done highlighted everything I wanted it to, though it had been harsh. But what did I care for such a wench?

But before this scene ended fully, another revelation was to be highlighted. As I looked up from the young woman I noticed that something caught the light and gleamed within Zephon's claws. His sword had been drawn, and only now was he sheathing it with a bitter twist of disappointment. He had intended to kill her regardless of my say.

I blinked and realised that in me striking her I had in fact knocked her away from Zephon's wrathful blade, for it would have been within that moment that he would have struck. Irony though it seemed, in my infliction so it was she had been denounced from Death's embrace. How strange Lady Fate is, and how she entwines us all.

"Come forth," I beckoned for two of my most trusted from the Rahabim, the two who had been close to me throughout it all. "Take her," I instructed, directing one of my claws to her, whilst my eyes never left Zephon. With my eyes, and through my gaze, I was warning him off like any other predator does when a fight may be caused through dispute over ones property.

"Put her with the others." I indicated the other mortals I had speared as my own from this town, salvaging from some of the wrecks of pillage and carnage, in understanding that some of then would make suitable servants.

'Watch her carefully,' I told them. 'She is no ones feed but my own. Understood?'

With one last glance at Zephon, I took my leave, to join Raziel and my brethren without another thought on the matter.