!Warning: M (16+)-rated themes: Depiction of violence, cruelty and blood.

- XLIX -

Viktor watched the blood-bath in shock. Everything had happened so quickly, Amelia's supernaturally fast motions only a blur even in his immortal eyes. What in the name of the devil was she doing? Had she gone completely insane in the few weeks he hadn't seen her? How dare she attack these mortals he himself had claimed, feast on them without his permission?!

And in front of Marcus! The original vampire was a fool, but not to such an extent that he wouldn't realise Amelia was just spurning the first and paramount rule of their society. It was one thing to drink human blood in secret, butchering mortals in public, however, was quite another!

Every fibre in Viktor's body was urging him to just seize his former lover and snatch her away from her wrongdoing, to stop this madness, but then another thought crossed his mind: Was her maniacal behaviour not also beneficial to him? If their people considered Amelia insane, wouldn't it strengthen his own power? The corners of Viktor's thin lips twitched into a brief smirk and he kept on watching impassively.

So much red. In her mouth, on her face, running down her decollete, soaking the fabric of her dress. Blood. The smell, the taste, the sensation of it on her skin. So much warm, soothing, nourishing, arousing, mind-clouding blood. Amelia stood in a pool of scarlet liquid and lifeless bodies, motionless, until a tear-choked whimpering reached her ears.

A young man was still alive, staring at her, his gaze glittering on the verge of madness over the horror he had witnessed only moments before. His large brown eyes reminded her of Ilona's, the woman in Viktor's rooms. The Elder took a step towards the mortal, who now desperately tried to scramble away from her. But he didn't get far. Almost gently, Amelia touched his face, turning his head so he was forced to endure her burning emerald gaze. His lips started to move.

"Sancta Maria, mater dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus nunc et in hora mortis nostrae..."

An almost blessed smile tugged at the corners of Amelia's bloodied lips. "Amen," she whispered, and with superhuman strength tore off the man's head, severing it from his shoulders completely.

Dorsals splintered with a cracking sound, tissue burst, blood flowed and the spark of despair in his eyes died with him, leaving only silence behind.

Marcus Corvinus's eyes were glowing in a bright shade of azure, while he witnessed the most impressive scene he had ever seen in his long life. Sure, battles against the werewolves were slaughters, too, but they had never affected him in any way, for the beasts' blood was pestilent, unclean, its stench obnoxious, while the human blood in this room was pure and exhilarating, deliciously sweet-smelling.

How long had it been since he had last drunk from a mortal? Decades? Centuries? Marcus felt his fangs elongate and a painfully burning sensation built in his sore throat. A strange and though familiar, long forgotten animalistic urge screamed for him to throw himself into the blood-bath, join in the sanguinary meal, but the fact that it was Amelia who held the banquet stopped him in his tracks.

By his last encounter with her, he knew how much of a monster she had become over the years and now the female Elder proved that she could be as physically cruel as she had treated him emotionally. He had no doubt she would attack him as well, if he dared to try getting a share of the mortal men's blood.

And so Marcus just watched until Amelia had killed the last human being by separating its head from its body with her bare hands. Now she stood there in the middle of an ocean of scarlet, motionless, and suddenly, thirst was not the only feeling that rose in Marcus's chest.

Weeks ago he had been angry, furious with her for her haughtiness, had taken his own quarters to pieces because she had treated him like a foolish boy. But for some bizarre reason he now started to admire her for her ferocity. The way she had moved, elegantly and supernaturally fast, killing all sixteen mortals within mere seconds. It had been something divine to watch.

Then Amelia turned around and looked at him with her piercing emerald eyes, her slender form radiating, her white skin and dark hair so perfectly stained in red, her lilac dress soaked in blood. She looked like a true goddess.

The original vampire tried to swallow, but his throat had gone completely dry. Slowly and carefully, his head slightly bowed, Marcus approached her, like one would approach a wild lioness.

"Amelia," he said in a low, hoarse tone, her name echoing in the silence of the vast room. "Before your arrival, Viktor and I were arguing about which of us should rule over those mortals. But now I see that your incredible strength and speed, your magnificent power outreaches us both."

As she did nothing to stop him, he took another step forward, holding out his hand to her.

"I am sure Viktor will take care of those bodies," he went on. "May I accompany you on the way back to your quarters?"

Amelia's expression remained emotionless. "You may," were the only words that came over her bloodied lips, before she, ignoring his hand, stepped over her victims' corpses and headed for the door.