Ah, dream too bright to last!
Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise
But to be overcast!
A voice from out the Future cries,
"Onward!"-but o'er the Past
(Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies
Mute, motionless, aghast!
-"To One in Paradise," Edgar Allen Poe
Shivering, though he was, if anything, much warmer than he had been before, Olrox stared down at the drained body lying crumpled in the ditch. It had been a mistake to travel so near to the road.
On setting out again, Olrox had decided to run with the road in sight, so as not to become lost. However, his strength was nothing compared to what it had been earlier, and worse, the tight pain in his chest became stronger with every step, until his whole body burned and his head swam. He had slowed to a stumbling walk, so pained and tense that he felt like a gun ready to fire. Olrox knew not why the hunger pangs came so fiercely now; it was as though some invisible force was pulling at his very blood. 'Only a few days...I must endure it...' But that was not to be.
His ears caught the sound of footsteps, falling quietly in the downy snow. A gruff voice yelled wildly, and Olrox spun in time to see a rough-looking man charge him from the ditch, knife drawn and held low for a strike. Without thinking, Olrox dove at the man, sending them both tumbling head over heels into the ditch. In the fall and in the fray that followed, Olrox took a deep gash in his thigh, and another across his chest.
Enraged with the sting of his injuries, Olrox twisted the man's wrist until it broke with a snap. Crying out, the man dropped his knife, and Olrox's fangs soon found their way to the unfortunate cur's throat. Olrox sighed blissfully as that pain that had been torture was washed away with new blood. It was nectar and ambrosia in his mouth, and it snaked it way through his body, manna from heaven to every tired fiber. His mind was snatched away and tossed about in a tempest of emotion, free from reason and sin, a madman's memories. The blood at first came too quickly for Olrox to swallow it all, and it dribbled down his chin and spattered his chest, drops sliding over the ugly pink line that had been a deep cut only minutes before.
It hadn't lasted long, however, and now here he was. Thin tendrils of steam still rose from the blood spilled on the snow. 'What do I do now? I can't just...leave it here...' Espying the dead man's knife lying on the ground, Olrox was struck with a sudden idea. Taking the blade in his hand, Olrox knelt over the corpse and made a slice across the throat, marring the fang wounds so they wouldn't be seen. He then flung the knife as far as he could into the field. The cut throat oozed a little blood, but not enough to convince even the thickest peasant that the poor man had died of the injury. 'There's no help for it,' Olrox mused, 'the wolves may make proper work of it, though.' Inwardly, he shuddered at his coolness towards this, his second murder. As he began running again, this time keeping to the trees and fields (well away from the road), he set to work rationalizing what he had just done. 'He was insane and meant to kill me. It was only defense, any other man would have done the same.' This he knew to be only half true. The force that had moved him had not been self-preservation, but rather the instinct of the hunt. 'He was a dangerous rogue; none will miss him. In fact...whom might he have killed if he hadn't met with me? He'd have surely slain any hapless innocent traveling tonight; he deserves no pity...' After an uneasy moment, he pushed his last thought to the back of his mind. If a madman could have no mercy for his crimes, then what of Olrox, who killed knowing full well what he did? 'I must stop thinking, lest I drive myself as mad as that poor bastard lying in the ditch...' In the distance, he heard the howl of a wolf, and knew that his leftovers had been discovered. 'So much the better...'
Full fed, Olrox was making better speed than he had even when he'd first started. It seemed, almost, that his feet barely brushed the ground. Olrox let his mind slip into the monotony of his movement, counting steps, heartbeats, and breaths--fogging the cold air with new warmth. The young vampire regretted now that he hadn't taken his victim's coat; the winter air seemed to prick his skin with tiny needles as he ran. 'It cannot be far now, at the rate I am going...'
"D-damn this c-c-cold..." Mihai wrapped his scarf more tightly around his neck, trudging through a drift of snow. He had come out tonight under the pretense of hunting, saying that the snow would muffle his steps, and the deer would be easily seen in the full moon. His hand touched the pistol hanging at his belt; if he didn't find what he was looking for (and this he doubted), he ought to bring home something for all the worry these late night outings put his family through.
'This is madness...' Everyone else had given up searching for Olrox long ago, accepting that, whether dead or run away, there was little they could do for him by now. 'After all, it has been months. Even if he lives, in this weather, even the wolves seek shelter...' He shivered as a light wind blew through the naked trees, stirring up snow around Mihai's feet. Still, he walked on, looking for...he didn't know, but he was looking. 'Anything, just so I know what happened that night...' Unlike most of the house, Mihai had been in a little storeroom near the back of the manor house, checking on certain supplies to see what was running low after the Jacques' visit. From there, he had heard a panicked scream from outside. By the time he had laid hands on a gun and made it to the trees behind the house, there was nothing. Try as he might, Mihai could find no tracks, no clothing, nothing. No sign of anyone. A chill ran up his spine, and he crossed himself, not knowing what had prompted him to do so. After that, he had gone back inside to tell Elie of what he'd heard, and soon enough, the gardens were swarming with curious and well-meaning servants, ruining any other chance of finding tracks. Olrox was nowhere to be found, and after weeks of fruitless searching, Mihai's parents had called the search off. Mihai had argued; he could still hear Alex's voice in his head, "If we haven't found him by now, Mihai, then he either doesn't want to be found, or," the slender man shrugged, "we could do nothing but bury the poor moron when we did." Mihai had said nothing more of the matter. 'Odd as he was, I miss him...'
Their mother had lost something of her old vitality. It had always seemed that the years couldn't touch her; she had the same energy, the same sparkle in her eyes as when Mihai and his siblings had been children. Now, Rose Trandafir was beginning to look her age, the silver strands more noticeable against the fading gold of her hair, faint lines etching along her eyes, which weren't as bright as they should have been. Now and then, as she moved about her daily tasks, he could hear her sighing, or she would begin to talk to someone in English, before remembering and speaking Romanian. Whenever asked what troubled her, she would smile sadly and say, in her rich, lilting accent, "Oh, it is nothing. Homesick for England, I suppose; wet, rainy island that it was..." And nothing more. Elie, too, was more withdrawn, the lines of his own face more pronounced. 'They are no longer young...' Mihai sighed, willing himself to stop these depressing thoughts. He carried on looking for he knew not what for another hour, then, chilled through, turned back for home. 'I knew this was foolish; what did I expect to find?'
Walking leisurely along the road, Vlad caught the scent of old blood. Quickening his pace, he soon came to a body in the ditch, rent apart by wolves with little left to call a body. There was, however, very little blood staining the snow, and Vlad knew at once who was responsible for that. 'I told him he would surprise himself...'
Vlad had shifted back into his own form, letting the wolves follow the trail on their own while he took the opportunity to feed in the village. That done, he was content to follow the footprints of the pack instead of taking the energy and time to shift again. The few sets of prints that had led him here now swerved back into the fields to rejoin the main trail. Hearing howls, the vampire gathered that he wasn't far from Olrox now; Vlad ran, urged on by new blood and impatience and worry, white hair and black cloak streaming behind him.
The house was in sight, though still at least a mile or two away, and Olrox nearly shouted for joy at seeing it, something he never thought he'd do. He was elated, and then, from a little distance ahead, Olrox heard the cry of a man and a gunshot echoed through the woods. 'Mihai!' He charged through the trees, the moonlight casting hard-edged shadows and lighting his way.
The wolves had some suddenly and quietly. Hearing a lone howl, from alarmingly close by, Mihai had turned to it, pistol drawn. A wolf had jumped at him from the other direction, and Mihai barely had time to turn and shoot it; it would have been upon him a second later. He cried out as another wolf leapt at him, tearing a jagged wound down his left arm as he clubbed it unconscious with the butt of his pistol. He had brought only a few bullets; he couldn't afford to waste a single one. 'Though I doubt they'll do me much good anyway...' he thought grimly, dodging another wolf. The pack kept their distance for the most part, scared by the sight of the dead wolf bleeding at Mihai's feet, but Mihai knew better than to think they'd stay that way; he knew he was surrounded. 'They'll just take their time, and wear me down.' Frustrated tears slid down his cheeks as he turned in a slow circle, staring at the wolves. He hadn't seen a single deer; these animals must be desperate to choose a human as prey, and an armed one at that. 'Not armed for much longer,' Mihai observed as he shot down another of the beasts. Some of them growled fiercely, baring their long teeth. Others, like the one Mihai faced now, simply stared up at him calmly, intelligent yellow eyes glittering as if with mirth. Then, with a feral growl, a blur slammed into the very wolf that he'd been facing. The wolves yelped and scattered in terror as the caught wolf was thrown into the trunk of a tree. Mihai heard a crack, and the animal slumped down like a rag-doll, lifeless. But it wasn't the wolf that he stared at in open shock. It was his rescuer.
Olrox paid no attention to the corpse slumped under the tree behind him. He stood, frozen under Mihai's gaze, at a loss for words. Mihai, for his part, looked much the same. His brother stood stunned, his weapon hanging loosely in one hand. Mihai's hair was in disarray from the fight, a straw-colored halo, and startled blue eyes stared at him, disbelieving. 'He looks more like mother than any of us...' Olrox's eyes lingered for a while on an alluring stripe of red that seeped through a tear on Mihai's coat sleeve. Olrox ducked his head in shame, fighting the hunger that sparked up in him and stepping a little farther back into the shadows.
Mihai squinted and stepped forward tentatively. Finally, he found his voice and croaked out, "Olrox?" Olrox managed to make some small sound in the affirmative, and Mihai bounded over and pulled Olrox into a tight hug, like the ungainly, friendly dog he had seemed in their adolescence. Tears wet Olrox's face unchecked as he heard Mihai's own sobs. Olrox took in the scent of Mihai's coat. He was amazed at how many individual smells he could pick out. The woolen coat smelled of Mihai, and Jenica, pipe tobacco, Elie, Alex, Mother, home. He was safe and warm, and home. His ears sorted out the separate tones of Mihai's familiar voice.
"Months! For months we've been worried sick over you, frate." The man's voice was shaky. Mihai seemed to notice for the first time that Olrox had no shoes, and, for that matter, no shirt. "Were you robbed, Olrox? You feel like ice..." Olrox stiffened somewhat, and it seemed Mihai did the same. "Why didn't you send word...all this time..."
Olrox dared to speak, hoping against hope that his voice would sound normal. "I'm sorry, Mihai," he whispered into Mihai's coat; perhaps his brother wouldn't hear anything he oughtn't...
He felt a shudder run through Mihai, and Olrox was shoved back from his brother's embrace. Mihai held him at arm's length for a moment, then, Mihai's eyes widened, and he recoiled with a cry as though he'd touched some diseased thing. 'He knows,' thought Olrox miserably. "I'm sorry, frate..." he murmured.
Mihai was too mortified and confused to speak. He couldn't be sure what it was, but a wordless voice shouted in his mind that something was terribly wrong with his brother. Olrox's skin had always been as dark as their father's, now, it looked as though Olrox was as pale as the snow they stood in. One could certainly see that, too, as everything below the knee and above the waist had been exposed to the frigid air for God knows how long, and yet Olrox showed not the least sign of frostbite. A dark blaze of wavy hair spilled over Olrox's shoulders, and his eyes, which had always been so soft and kind, were hard chips of andradite and amethyst, burning with a strange light. He was one of Jenica's dolls, porcelain, too perfect to be real. 'Oh, God, that voice...those tears...' And then, Mihai had a revelation.
"Forgive me, Mihai..."
'Oh, God, these tears...' Olrox stared at the snow, where tiny scarlet drops fell and blossomed at his feet. Must everything about him now be so repulsive? He glanced up tentatively at Mihai, to find himself staring down the barrel of a pistol. "Stay back, vampire," Mihai stammered, trying to keep his voice even.
"...Mihai?" Olrox pleaded, "Please, brother, I won't hurt you."
Mihai stood, resolute, sighting along the gun barrel. "You're not my brother. My brother is dead." Tears filled the man's eyes once more.
Olrox panicked. It was his nightmare all over again. "I'm not dead! I'm right here!"
The human took two steps back. "Stop tormenting me, Satan! You may have my brother's form, but I know you are not he."
Olrox glared. Of all the times for Mihai to be stupid...! "Are you mad, Mihai? I'm Olrox! Please, frate. Please, you must help me..." Olrox walked forward, all too aware of the unnatural grace in his movements.
There was a brief flash, and a sharp clap of gunpowder ripped through the quiet night. Olrox was unprepared, and was knocked backward by a bullet that tore its way through his side to strike a tree behind him. He whimpered as he saw blood pouring out into the snow, feeling it like a thousand knives or fire lacing through his veins. Olrox gazed up at his brother in utter disbelief. 'He...he shot me!' "Mihai..."
Mihai stared down at where the thing that looked and sounded so much like his brother knelt in the snow, stained by an ever-increasing circle of blood. He was unsure for a moment. 'It cannot be Olrox. Those...things don't have souls at all, and yet...' The look in the thing's eyes, the creature's voice-so entreating, so gentle. Olrox had never hurt anyone, why should he now? Mihai shook his head. He looked once again on the porcelain doll in Olrox's likeness. There was the bullet wound...growing smaller? Mihai gasped, then turned and ran, terrified. 'Tricks of the devil...Olrox is dead. Dead and gone, and that monster dares to use his corpse!' He sobbed for breath as he ran, his arm paining him. He shouldn't have come out tonight. He had learned too much, far too much...
Olrox half-heard Mihai's steps in the snow as the man fled from him. He didn't raise his head again to watch his brother as they were parted forever. What would be the point...? 'He hates me. This isn't how I thought it would be...' Faintly, he heard also the low growls of wolves as they too watched Mihai's flight. Then, as though hearing a command, they fell silent and dispersed, loping off through the shadows to who knew where.
"Olrox."
Olrox stiffened at the voice. His own was acidic. "What do you want? Haven't you done enough for me?"
The harsh words hit Vlad like a slap in the face, but he managed to keep himself under control, walking calmly through the snow that had been turned to ruby slush with blood. Olrox was weakened with blood loss; his body shuddered, fighting to hold the young vampire upright. 'It is fortunate he had the foresight to drink tonight...' Kneeling, he laid a hand, feather-light, on Olrox's shoulder.
Olrox felt a cool hand and tensed. How dare he? 'How dare he even show his face after all he's put me through...!' A low growl rumbled in Olrox's throat. The encroaching hand was withdrawn with a weary sigh. Vlad spoke again, Olrox refused to look at his companion, staring at his blood in the snow. "I am truly sorry for this, copil. I thought that if I kept you away from them, you would be safe from them..."
Olrox could still feel his abdomen knitting itself back together. He held his hand over the closing entry wound. "Safe?" Olrox echoed, as though the word was foreign and distasteful to him. "Safe from my own family?" Some strained thing in Olrox snapped, and he threw himself at Vlad, knocking the older vampire to the ground. Vlad had been caught unawares, and now lie still while Olrox screamed at him, as though the assault hadn't fazed him in the least. "This is all YOUR fault!" Olrox grabbed fistfuls of Vlad's coat, whacking Vlad's head against the frozen ground once with as much strength as he could muster. For just a moment, deadly rage flashed across Vlad's eyes, just as quickly, however, it was gone without a trace, and Vlad simply looked up in pity. This reaction only served to anger Olrox even more. "I hate you! It's your fault I'm like this! You tricked me! I killed a man on my way here. I killed him without a thought, as though he were a goddamn deer! Every waking moment, in my fucking DREAMS, I feel as though I'm steadily losing my mind, if I be not mad already!"
Vlad sighed again, reached up and tucked a lock of dark hair behind Olrox's ear, despite a snarl of protest. "You're not mad, Olrox. This is all entirely real, and I promise you, in time you will see that what I have done is for the best."
"For the best?!" Olrox released Vlad in disgust and turned away. "I'm a savage killer, and an abomination to God and nature! How the hell is that for the best?! If you had only left me alone..." Olrox trailed off, not knowing how to finish his thought.
Vlad finished for him. "If I had left you alone, you would either be trapped in a marriage with that vapid Frenchwoman, or you would have run off to some strange city where you would have been perfectly free to work yourself to the bone for little more than table scraps, if you were lucky. I said a favor was owed to your family, and in time, you will see why I repaid them this way."
Olrox hadn't really been listening. His fingers and his thoughts returned to the bullet hole in his side. "My own brother," he whispered, "I've never seen Mihai so much as strike another person in my entire life. I asked him for help, and he shot me..." He pressed his hand against the wound, now nearly closed, and felt another hand cover his. Olrox didn't bother to pull away; he lacked the energy he'd had only moments before. Vlad's voice was soft, unsteady, as though Vlad himself were hurting. "A wound such as this," the words washed over Olrox, uncommonly tender. "A wound such as this runs deep, and never entirely heals."
Olrox glared up at Vlad's face, but his voice lacked its former sting. "You've no right to speak of Mihai and me; you know nothing of this."
Vlad offered a wan smile. "I don't? You sound so certain; it is well that I call you copil, Olrox. Betrayal and sorrow I am quite familiar with." He remained silent for a minute. Bloody tears gathered in Olrox's eyes and Vlad pulled him into an embrace. Olrox broke; he hid his face against Vlad's chest and wept in despair. He wept that the last words he'd said to his father had been hateful; he wept that he'd run straight from his home into the waiting arms of a vampire. He wept the harder that he'd killed two people out of his new hunger for blood, and that he'd forever lost his humanity...that Mihai had proven. The creature that had wrought Olrox's destruction now held him, Vlad's cloak shielding Olrox from the cold breeze. A hand stroked his windblown hair, smoothing it back into place. Eventually, even Olrox's tears grew weary, and he sat in silence.
"Your brother is right, Olrox." Unwelcome as the statement was, Olrox couldn't help but listen. "You are dead to them; you are beyond their grasp now. You too must put them aside and leave them. They are as the grass, withering after only a short time, and their world is one of futility and death." Vlad's uncanny voice lowered until it was as mere breath. He tilted Olrox's chin up to find his eyes, holding them. "I freed you from that world. By my very blood I bought you from death. And you are joined to me, blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh, my beloved copil. No man, woman, or child will ever love you as I love you, Olrox."
Olrox stared up at the face of his master. The snowy locks of hair had been stained red by the tainted snow, painting crimson streaks across Vlad's face, yet the eyes held him in thrall just as they had on their first meeting. Even as Olrox spoke, in scarce more than a whisper, he could not avert his gaze from those unreadable eyes. "I hate you," Olrox said, his throat tight with pent-up sobs. Vlad leaned down to kiss Olrox's forehead. A cool sigh tickled Olrox's skin as the older vampire answered.
"I know."
Hooray! Let's hear it for writer's block! At the most inopportune of times! Oh, poor Olrox got beaten up rather badly in this chapter. Muahahaha...child's play...
frate=brother, but you already had that figured out, right? ;)
Andradite is a type of garnet that can occur in a very lovely shade of deep brown.
Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise
But to be overcast!
A voice from out the Future cries,
"Onward!"-but o'er the Past
(Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies
Mute, motionless, aghast!
-"To One in Paradise," Edgar Allen Poe
Shivering, though he was, if anything, much warmer than he had been before, Olrox stared down at the drained body lying crumpled in the ditch. It had been a mistake to travel so near to the road.
On setting out again, Olrox had decided to run with the road in sight, so as not to become lost. However, his strength was nothing compared to what it had been earlier, and worse, the tight pain in his chest became stronger with every step, until his whole body burned and his head swam. He had slowed to a stumbling walk, so pained and tense that he felt like a gun ready to fire. Olrox knew not why the hunger pangs came so fiercely now; it was as though some invisible force was pulling at his very blood. 'Only a few days...I must endure it...' But that was not to be.
His ears caught the sound of footsteps, falling quietly in the downy snow. A gruff voice yelled wildly, and Olrox spun in time to see a rough-looking man charge him from the ditch, knife drawn and held low for a strike. Without thinking, Olrox dove at the man, sending them both tumbling head over heels into the ditch. In the fall and in the fray that followed, Olrox took a deep gash in his thigh, and another across his chest.
Enraged with the sting of his injuries, Olrox twisted the man's wrist until it broke with a snap. Crying out, the man dropped his knife, and Olrox's fangs soon found their way to the unfortunate cur's throat. Olrox sighed blissfully as that pain that had been torture was washed away with new blood. It was nectar and ambrosia in his mouth, and it snaked it way through his body, manna from heaven to every tired fiber. His mind was snatched away and tossed about in a tempest of emotion, free from reason and sin, a madman's memories. The blood at first came too quickly for Olrox to swallow it all, and it dribbled down his chin and spattered his chest, drops sliding over the ugly pink line that had been a deep cut only minutes before.
It hadn't lasted long, however, and now here he was. Thin tendrils of steam still rose from the blood spilled on the snow. 'What do I do now? I can't just...leave it here...' Espying the dead man's knife lying on the ground, Olrox was struck with a sudden idea. Taking the blade in his hand, Olrox knelt over the corpse and made a slice across the throat, marring the fang wounds so they wouldn't be seen. He then flung the knife as far as he could into the field. The cut throat oozed a little blood, but not enough to convince even the thickest peasant that the poor man had died of the injury. 'There's no help for it,' Olrox mused, 'the wolves may make proper work of it, though.' Inwardly, he shuddered at his coolness towards this, his second murder. As he began running again, this time keeping to the trees and fields (well away from the road), he set to work rationalizing what he had just done. 'He was insane and meant to kill me. It was only defense, any other man would have done the same.' This he knew to be only half true. The force that had moved him had not been self-preservation, but rather the instinct of the hunt. 'He was a dangerous rogue; none will miss him. In fact...whom might he have killed if he hadn't met with me? He'd have surely slain any hapless innocent traveling tonight; he deserves no pity...' After an uneasy moment, he pushed his last thought to the back of his mind. If a madman could have no mercy for his crimes, then what of Olrox, who killed knowing full well what he did? 'I must stop thinking, lest I drive myself as mad as that poor bastard lying in the ditch...' In the distance, he heard the howl of a wolf, and knew that his leftovers had been discovered. 'So much the better...'
Full fed, Olrox was making better speed than he had even when he'd first started. It seemed, almost, that his feet barely brushed the ground. Olrox let his mind slip into the monotony of his movement, counting steps, heartbeats, and breaths--fogging the cold air with new warmth. The young vampire regretted now that he hadn't taken his victim's coat; the winter air seemed to prick his skin with tiny needles as he ran. 'It cannot be far now, at the rate I am going...'
"D-damn this c-c-cold..." Mihai wrapped his scarf more tightly around his neck, trudging through a drift of snow. He had come out tonight under the pretense of hunting, saying that the snow would muffle his steps, and the deer would be easily seen in the full moon. His hand touched the pistol hanging at his belt; if he didn't find what he was looking for (and this he doubted), he ought to bring home something for all the worry these late night outings put his family through.
'This is madness...' Everyone else had given up searching for Olrox long ago, accepting that, whether dead or run away, there was little they could do for him by now. 'After all, it has been months. Even if he lives, in this weather, even the wolves seek shelter...' He shivered as a light wind blew through the naked trees, stirring up snow around Mihai's feet. Still, he walked on, looking for...he didn't know, but he was looking. 'Anything, just so I know what happened that night...' Unlike most of the house, Mihai had been in a little storeroom near the back of the manor house, checking on certain supplies to see what was running low after the Jacques' visit. From there, he had heard a panicked scream from outside. By the time he had laid hands on a gun and made it to the trees behind the house, there was nothing. Try as he might, Mihai could find no tracks, no clothing, nothing. No sign of anyone. A chill ran up his spine, and he crossed himself, not knowing what had prompted him to do so. After that, he had gone back inside to tell Elie of what he'd heard, and soon enough, the gardens were swarming with curious and well-meaning servants, ruining any other chance of finding tracks. Olrox was nowhere to be found, and after weeks of fruitless searching, Mihai's parents had called the search off. Mihai had argued; he could still hear Alex's voice in his head, "If we haven't found him by now, Mihai, then he either doesn't want to be found, or," the slender man shrugged, "we could do nothing but bury the poor moron when we did." Mihai had said nothing more of the matter. 'Odd as he was, I miss him...'
Their mother had lost something of her old vitality. It had always seemed that the years couldn't touch her; she had the same energy, the same sparkle in her eyes as when Mihai and his siblings had been children. Now, Rose Trandafir was beginning to look her age, the silver strands more noticeable against the fading gold of her hair, faint lines etching along her eyes, which weren't as bright as they should have been. Now and then, as she moved about her daily tasks, he could hear her sighing, or she would begin to talk to someone in English, before remembering and speaking Romanian. Whenever asked what troubled her, she would smile sadly and say, in her rich, lilting accent, "Oh, it is nothing. Homesick for England, I suppose; wet, rainy island that it was..." And nothing more. Elie, too, was more withdrawn, the lines of his own face more pronounced. 'They are no longer young...' Mihai sighed, willing himself to stop these depressing thoughts. He carried on looking for he knew not what for another hour, then, chilled through, turned back for home. 'I knew this was foolish; what did I expect to find?'
Walking leisurely along the road, Vlad caught the scent of old blood. Quickening his pace, he soon came to a body in the ditch, rent apart by wolves with little left to call a body. There was, however, very little blood staining the snow, and Vlad knew at once who was responsible for that. 'I told him he would surprise himself...'
Vlad had shifted back into his own form, letting the wolves follow the trail on their own while he took the opportunity to feed in the village. That done, he was content to follow the footprints of the pack instead of taking the energy and time to shift again. The few sets of prints that had led him here now swerved back into the fields to rejoin the main trail. Hearing howls, the vampire gathered that he wasn't far from Olrox now; Vlad ran, urged on by new blood and impatience and worry, white hair and black cloak streaming behind him.
The house was in sight, though still at least a mile or two away, and Olrox nearly shouted for joy at seeing it, something he never thought he'd do. He was elated, and then, from a little distance ahead, Olrox heard the cry of a man and a gunshot echoed through the woods. 'Mihai!' He charged through the trees, the moonlight casting hard-edged shadows and lighting his way.
The wolves had some suddenly and quietly. Hearing a lone howl, from alarmingly close by, Mihai had turned to it, pistol drawn. A wolf had jumped at him from the other direction, and Mihai barely had time to turn and shoot it; it would have been upon him a second later. He cried out as another wolf leapt at him, tearing a jagged wound down his left arm as he clubbed it unconscious with the butt of his pistol. He had brought only a few bullets; he couldn't afford to waste a single one. 'Though I doubt they'll do me much good anyway...' he thought grimly, dodging another wolf. The pack kept their distance for the most part, scared by the sight of the dead wolf bleeding at Mihai's feet, but Mihai knew better than to think they'd stay that way; he knew he was surrounded. 'They'll just take their time, and wear me down.' Frustrated tears slid down his cheeks as he turned in a slow circle, staring at the wolves. He hadn't seen a single deer; these animals must be desperate to choose a human as prey, and an armed one at that. 'Not armed for much longer,' Mihai observed as he shot down another of the beasts. Some of them growled fiercely, baring their long teeth. Others, like the one Mihai faced now, simply stared up at him calmly, intelligent yellow eyes glittering as if with mirth. Then, with a feral growl, a blur slammed into the very wolf that he'd been facing. The wolves yelped and scattered in terror as the caught wolf was thrown into the trunk of a tree. Mihai heard a crack, and the animal slumped down like a rag-doll, lifeless. But it wasn't the wolf that he stared at in open shock. It was his rescuer.
Olrox paid no attention to the corpse slumped under the tree behind him. He stood, frozen under Mihai's gaze, at a loss for words. Mihai, for his part, looked much the same. His brother stood stunned, his weapon hanging loosely in one hand. Mihai's hair was in disarray from the fight, a straw-colored halo, and startled blue eyes stared at him, disbelieving. 'He looks more like mother than any of us...' Olrox's eyes lingered for a while on an alluring stripe of red that seeped through a tear on Mihai's coat sleeve. Olrox ducked his head in shame, fighting the hunger that sparked up in him and stepping a little farther back into the shadows.
Mihai squinted and stepped forward tentatively. Finally, he found his voice and croaked out, "Olrox?" Olrox managed to make some small sound in the affirmative, and Mihai bounded over and pulled Olrox into a tight hug, like the ungainly, friendly dog he had seemed in their adolescence. Tears wet Olrox's face unchecked as he heard Mihai's own sobs. Olrox took in the scent of Mihai's coat. He was amazed at how many individual smells he could pick out. The woolen coat smelled of Mihai, and Jenica, pipe tobacco, Elie, Alex, Mother, home. He was safe and warm, and home. His ears sorted out the separate tones of Mihai's familiar voice.
"Months! For months we've been worried sick over you, frate." The man's voice was shaky. Mihai seemed to notice for the first time that Olrox had no shoes, and, for that matter, no shirt. "Were you robbed, Olrox? You feel like ice..." Olrox stiffened somewhat, and it seemed Mihai did the same. "Why didn't you send word...all this time..."
Olrox dared to speak, hoping against hope that his voice would sound normal. "I'm sorry, Mihai," he whispered into Mihai's coat; perhaps his brother wouldn't hear anything he oughtn't...
He felt a shudder run through Mihai, and Olrox was shoved back from his brother's embrace. Mihai held him at arm's length for a moment, then, Mihai's eyes widened, and he recoiled with a cry as though he'd touched some diseased thing. 'He knows,' thought Olrox miserably. "I'm sorry, frate..." he murmured.
Mihai was too mortified and confused to speak. He couldn't be sure what it was, but a wordless voice shouted in his mind that something was terribly wrong with his brother. Olrox's skin had always been as dark as their father's, now, it looked as though Olrox was as pale as the snow they stood in. One could certainly see that, too, as everything below the knee and above the waist had been exposed to the frigid air for God knows how long, and yet Olrox showed not the least sign of frostbite. A dark blaze of wavy hair spilled over Olrox's shoulders, and his eyes, which had always been so soft and kind, were hard chips of andradite and amethyst, burning with a strange light. He was one of Jenica's dolls, porcelain, too perfect to be real. 'Oh, God, that voice...those tears...' And then, Mihai had a revelation.
"Forgive me, Mihai..."
'Oh, God, these tears...' Olrox stared at the snow, where tiny scarlet drops fell and blossomed at his feet. Must everything about him now be so repulsive? He glanced up tentatively at Mihai, to find himself staring down the barrel of a pistol. "Stay back, vampire," Mihai stammered, trying to keep his voice even.
"...Mihai?" Olrox pleaded, "Please, brother, I won't hurt you."
Mihai stood, resolute, sighting along the gun barrel. "You're not my brother. My brother is dead." Tears filled the man's eyes once more.
Olrox panicked. It was his nightmare all over again. "I'm not dead! I'm right here!"
The human took two steps back. "Stop tormenting me, Satan! You may have my brother's form, but I know you are not he."
Olrox glared. Of all the times for Mihai to be stupid...! "Are you mad, Mihai? I'm Olrox! Please, frate. Please, you must help me..." Olrox walked forward, all too aware of the unnatural grace in his movements.
There was a brief flash, and a sharp clap of gunpowder ripped through the quiet night. Olrox was unprepared, and was knocked backward by a bullet that tore its way through his side to strike a tree behind him. He whimpered as he saw blood pouring out into the snow, feeling it like a thousand knives or fire lacing through his veins. Olrox gazed up at his brother in utter disbelief. 'He...he shot me!' "Mihai..."
Mihai stared down at where the thing that looked and sounded so much like his brother knelt in the snow, stained by an ever-increasing circle of blood. He was unsure for a moment. 'It cannot be Olrox. Those...things don't have souls at all, and yet...' The look in the thing's eyes, the creature's voice-so entreating, so gentle. Olrox had never hurt anyone, why should he now? Mihai shook his head. He looked once again on the porcelain doll in Olrox's likeness. There was the bullet wound...growing smaller? Mihai gasped, then turned and ran, terrified. 'Tricks of the devil...Olrox is dead. Dead and gone, and that monster dares to use his corpse!' He sobbed for breath as he ran, his arm paining him. He shouldn't have come out tonight. He had learned too much, far too much...
Olrox half-heard Mihai's steps in the snow as the man fled from him. He didn't raise his head again to watch his brother as they were parted forever. What would be the point...? 'He hates me. This isn't how I thought it would be...' Faintly, he heard also the low growls of wolves as they too watched Mihai's flight. Then, as though hearing a command, they fell silent and dispersed, loping off through the shadows to who knew where.
"Olrox."
Olrox stiffened at the voice. His own was acidic. "What do you want? Haven't you done enough for me?"
The harsh words hit Vlad like a slap in the face, but he managed to keep himself under control, walking calmly through the snow that had been turned to ruby slush with blood. Olrox was weakened with blood loss; his body shuddered, fighting to hold the young vampire upright. 'It is fortunate he had the foresight to drink tonight...' Kneeling, he laid a hand, feather-light, on Olrox's shoulder.
Olrox felt a cool hand and tensed. How dare he? 'How dare he even show his face after all he's put me through...!' A low growl rumbled in Olrox's throat. The encroaching hand was withdrawn with a weary sigh. Vlad spoke again, Olrox refused to look at his companion, staring at his blood in the snow. "I am truly sorry for this, copil. I thought that if I kept you away from them, you would be safe from them..."
Olrox could still feel his abdomen knitting itself back together. He held his hand over the closing entry wound. "Safe?" Olrox echoed, as though the word was foreign and distasteful to him. "Safe from my own family?" Some strained thing in Olrox snapped, and he threw himself at Vlad, knocking the older vampire to the ground. Vlad had been caught unawares, and now lie still while Olrox screamed at him, as though the assault hadn't fazed him in the least. "This is all YOUR fault!" Olrox grabbed fistfuls of Vlad's coat, whacking Vlad's head against the frozen ground once with as much strength as he could muster. For just a moment, deadly rage flashed across Vlad's eyes, just as quickly, however, it was gone without a trace, and Vlad simply looked up in pity. This reaction only served to anger Olrox even more. "I hate you! It's your fault I'm like this! You tricked me! I killed a man on my way here. I killed him without a thought, as though he were a goddamn deer! Every waking moment, in my fucking DREAMS, I feel as though I'm steadily losing my mind, if I be not mad already!"
Vlad sighed again, reached up and tucked a lock of dark hair behind Olrox's ear, despite a snarl of protest. "You're not mad, Olrox. This is all entirely real, and I promise you, in time you will see that what I have done is for the best."
"For the best?!" Olrox released Vlad in disgust and turned away. "I'm a savage killer, and an abomination to God and nature! How the hell is that for the best?! If you had only left me alone..." Olrox trailed off, not knowing how to finish his thought.
Vlad finished for him. "If I had left you alone, you would either be trapped in a marriage with that vapid Frenchwoman, or you would have run off to some strange city where you would have been perfectly free to work yourself to the bone for little more than table scraps, if you were lucky. I said a favor was owed to your family, and in time, you will see why I repaid them this way."
Olrox hadn't really been listening. His fingers and his thoughts returned to the bullet hole in his side. "My own brother," he whispered, "I've never seen Mihai so much as strike another person in my entire life. I asked him for help, and he shot me..." He pressed his hand against the wound, now nearly closed, and felt another hand cover his. Olrox didn't bother to pull away; he lacked the energy he'd had only moments before. Vlad's voice was soft, unsteady, as though Vlad himself were hurting. "A wound such as this," the words washed over Olrox, uncommonly tender. "A wound such as this runs deep, and never entirely heals."
Olrox glared up at Vlad's face, but his voice lacked its former sting. "You've no right to speak of Mihai and me; you know nothing of this."
Vlad offered a wan smile. "I don't? You sound so certain; it is well that I call you copil, Olrox. Betrayal and sorrow I am quite familiar with." He remained silent for a minute. Bloody tears gathered in Olrox's eyes and Vlad pulled him into an embrace. Olrox broke; he hid his face against Vlad's chest and wept in despair. He wept that the last words he'd said to his father had been hateful; he wept that he'd run straight from his home into the waiting arms of a vampire. He wept the harder that he'd killed two people out of his new hunger for blood, and that he'd forever lost his humanity...that Mihai had proven. The creature that had wrought Olrox's destruction now held him, Vlad's cloak shielding Olrox from the cold breeze. A hand stroked his windblown hair, smoothing it back into place. Eventually, even Olrox's tears grew weary, and he sat in silence.
"Your brother is right, Olrox." Unwelcome as the statement was, Olrox couldn't help but listen. "You are dead to them; you are beyond their grasp now. You too must put them aside and leave them. They are as the grass, withering after only a short time, and their world is one of futility and death." Vlad's uncanny voice lowered until it was as mere breath. He tilted Olrox's chin up to find his eyes, holding them. "I freed you from that world. By my very blood I bought you from death. And you are joined to me, blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh, my beloved copil. No man, woman, or child will ever love you as I love you, Olrox."
Olrox stared up at the face of his master. The snowy locks of hair had been stained red by the tainted snow, painting crimson streaks across Vlad's face, yet the eyes held him in thrall just as they had on their first meeting. Even as Olrox spoke, in scarce more than a whisper, he could not avert his gaze from those unreadable eyes. "I hate you," Olrox said, his throat tight with pent-up sobs. Vlad leaned down to kiss Olrox's forehead. A cool sigh tickled Olrox's skin as the older vampire answered.
"I know."
Hooray! Let's hear it for writer's block! At the most inopportune of times! Oh, poor Olrox got beaten up rather badly in this chapter. Muahahaha...child's play...
frate=brother, but you already had that figured out, right? ;)
Andradite is a type of garnet that can occur in a very lovely shade of deep brown.