CHAPTER TWO: BLOODLUST.
Eric's P.O.V
The blood is sacred. Eric Northman was raised on that belief. Blood granted them life, immortality, but most importantly, especially to a man like Eric, it granted them something much more enjoyable. Pleasure. Fun. Excitement and relief. Entertainment and gratification. After all, what was life eternal without a bit of bloodshed, debouched merriment and carnage to lighten up their nights? Not any sort of life Eric Northman wanted to live through.
Perhaps that is why the idea of meeting, seeing for himself, a real, tangible Dhampir was nothing short of exhilarating to Eric. As much as any vampire worth their weight in V would not admit, himself included, they had all once been very, very human. For them, that humanity they had been born with, it always left some sort of stain upon the vampire.
Eric still had a penchant for collecting weaponry that reminded him of the days of old, where he would raid and rape and pillage. Pam was adamant in the action of drowning herself in all the finery her magpie eyes could find, all the wealth and decadence her former life had denied her in part when she was human. Nora, from the last time they had seen each other, was still pilfering through old medical books relating back to the black death she herself had diligently fought against back in the seventeenth century. And Eric's maker, well, you could only see for yourself the intensive library the ancient vampire kept on war, to believe it. Godric, Eric knew, had a hand in starting some of those wars himself.
However, Dhampirs had none of this. Yes, they began their eternal life as a mimicry of humanity, with heartbeats and breaths, but they were never really human. From birth, there were always signs pointing to their supernatural heritage. Reactions too fast. An aura that ebbed away at people, making them feel… Uncomfortable. In the beginning, they were always solitary, preferring the company of few people, maybe two or three that they would call friend and mean it.
From what Eric had heard and read himself, they were quick to anger, always on the slightly hungry side, and had more than a bad streak of luck in avoiding conflict. Oh no. From what he understood of it, Dhampirs thrived in discord. Nearly all documented Dhampirs, as little as their numbers were, started their life off in the crucible of a torrid war. A battle of survival. Perhaps that was simply one of the conditions on how to birth one, who knew?
Of course, he could not validate any of this. Eric, himself, in his thousand years upon this earth, had never personally met a Dhampir, but he had heard the stories alright. He had heard them and he had thirsted to know just how much was true. How human were they really? How vampiric they were? Just where what were they like? So, knowing one was in his area this very night, how could Eric deny the chance to see for himself? To finally know just how sacred their blood was, and in turn, in the right environment, what it could birth into being.
Naturally, he would prefer to find those answers before and without company. In so, he had set Pam to distracting this Sanguini fellow, stalling their search for Bill Compton until Eric could find the Dhampir himself. Right now, the two would be traipsing through the woods on a pointless trail, far away from any spot Bill Compton was known to frequent, and only until he sent a call to his Childe, would Pam lead the older, gravely injured vampire anywhere near Bill Compton or his house. He almost felt Sorry for Pam. Almost. Her precious Louis Vuitton heals would surely be wrecked.
However, he had been through his own trials that night, and Eric only had room for so much sympathy in his small, dead, unbeating heart. Currently, that sympathy was aimed solely at himself. The Dhampir had proven… Resourceful and cunning in its own way. It liked to loop, leave false trails, dip in and out of streams where it's scent couldn't be tracked. At one point, it must have clued in that it was being followed. For a good two miles, through dense woods, it had taken to running through the tree-tops, leaving Eric to believe he had come to a dead-end for an hour straight before he clocked onto its game. For that was what this was. A game. Catch me if you can. Tig. Cat and mouse. Oddly, for once in a very long time, Eric was not the cat.
During this time, it had hit another three nest, another eleven vampires ripped apart and drained, and by Godric himself, it had not been a pretty sight Eric had raced into, already too late. Blood soaked walls, torn limbs strewn all around, entrails hanging from lamps. At one nest, it had looked like the Dhampir had thrown the inhabiting vampires straight into the ceiling fan and then chose to finger paint in the blood.
After all this, when Eric finally managed to catch up to the Dhampir, corner it in a little cabin nest it was feasting in a few miles out from Compton's own home, he only had two and a half hours before he would need to seek shelter and die for the day. Not enough time to answer his questions, but just enough to introduce himself like a good sheriff would.
The cabin in front of Eric was not too impressive. Just a shack really. One level. Just enough room for a singular room. Roof tiles displaced, windows boarded to protect against the sunlight come daytime. Chipped front door, caved in half from something bashing its way in through brute force. In truth, it resembled more an abandoned crack den then a thriving nest. However, he knew his people, knew there would be another three vampires within there… Already having met the true death, likely, due to the inescapable silence that was enshrouding the little cabin and the stench of vampire blood coiling in the air.
Nonetheless, from his vantage point near an old oak tree, Eric knew the Dhampir was still in there. Waiting. He could feel it. A tingle. A flare in his senses. A caution striking up home in his chest. Beware. The feeling was new and entirely unpleasant. However, Eric Northman was never any good at heeding warnings, and so, made his way into the cabin through the destroyed front door.
Of course, the first thing to greet him was blood. Splattered everywhere, from floorboard to ceiling plank, red glistened. The furniture of the single room was destroyed. The couch torn and ripped, table shattered, old rug tangled and shoved by a wall, likely being displaced due to a struggle. The only surviving piece of furniture was a lamp, leaning lopsided next to a wall, shade dotted with blood, bulb flickering on and off in little beating impulses.
This time, the Dhampir had taken to being a neat little carnage bringer. There were piles of body parts dotted around the large room of the cabin. A pile of chests, two male, one female, piled in one corner, hearts pulled free. A bundle of arms collected near a dusty fireplace, fingers broken. A stack of legs discarded onto the beaten couch, some skinned. A pyramid of eyeless heads built near the lamp, jaws dislocated. Still, what was most telling was the little mound taking up centre stage in the middle of the room. Fangs and eyes.
Eric crouched down next to them, placing his palm on the floor, feeling a soft heat emanate from the wood. Huh, another little hint. Dhampirs ran hot compared to a vampires constant chill. The Dhampir had been sitting right here, moments ago, playing with its little prizes… No. Not playing… inspecting. It was if the Dhampir had taken them apart just to see how they worked. Were their hearts vulnerable? How strong was their grip, even with broken fingers? Did skinning kill them or not? Did it make the blood taste better? What was their jaw strength? It had collected their fangs and eyes, two of the physical similarities between both Dhampirs and vampires, and had searched them out, scrutinized them, picking apart differences between itself and them. It was learning their weaknesses, their strengths… It was learning to hunt.
This was a new Dhampir… A very new Dhampir. Standing once more, Eric took a sweep of the room. It had been right here before he had come in, sitting, it couldn't have gotten far. A basement? A loft? Slowly, his gaze fell to a corner in the ceiling, the opposite side to the only light source, the lamp. Eric grinned.
The shadow there, in that little corner where two walls met ceiling, was dense. Almost unnaturally so. Within that blackened fog, he could see a shimmer of something green sparkle. Eyes. Staring. Watching. Waiting. It was a good position to take, Eric would give the Dhampir that. High. Out of the way. Unlikely to draw attention. In fact, if Eric had not been searching, he would have missed it entirely and then, surely, as he passed the archway to go back outside, it would have leapt and tore right into his neck. This Dhampir was a fast learner. Eric hadn't began pulling tricks like this until his second decade, and he very much doubted this Dhampir had garnered a whole year in this life, let alone twenty years.
"Why, hello there."
The Dhampir dropped down from its little perch in the corner silently, eerily, as it straightened out, levelling Eric with a poignant, unblinking stare as it stepped closer to the light and he got his first glimpse of it unperturbed by shadow or furniture. It was a woman, a girl, young.
She wasn't beautiful. Not in most senses of the word, and Eric had had his fair share of seeing, tasting, and sometimes killing, most beauties for himself. She didn't have the classical beauty of golden curls and ivory skin Eric often favoured. She lacked the exotic spice of a coquettish smile and slinky limbs. There was no cherubic innocence to be found either, no soft blush or dainty hands and feet. She was scarred, he could see them, littering her knuckles, words... I must not tell lies... One splitting her forehead in two, like a lightning bolt, one, looking like a giant snake bite, dotting her forearm.
Her features were too sharp, cutting, all angular lines and glacial grace. The blood that coated her from head to toe, despite the indulgent crimson, only amplified this barren coldness to her. It was like an arctic winter had been personified, locked into human skin. Her hair was… Something else entirely. An entity to its own. Tight and curly and uncontrollable, an explosion of onyx that fluttered past her shoulders to swing at the small of her back.
She was a small thing, Eric noticed. Barely reaching five foot two. Thin, but muscled, her curves protesting strength rather than comfort or pleasure, giving her a continued look of pleading for a vicious fight rather than a good fuck. No. She defiantly wasn't beautiful. She was striking. And it was her eyes that made that striking visage twist into something simply… Extraordinarily otherworldly.
Her eyes showed her soul. They were a torrential whirlpool of restless emerald, hard, inquisitive, an ocean of formidable intensity. All spark and flame and passion. Passion that turned her otherwise warrior eyes into the brightest orbs of fire, and in them, shining, Eric could see that she would fight, claw and bite to the very last tear for her life. She wasn't the type to be beaten or broken. She would not lay down and take it. She would spit and growl and rip. She would give as good as she got, and then triple the stakes. They were the eyes of a survivor. Eyes Eric had only seen once before, on his funeral mound, Godric leaning over him, smothered in the cloying smell of smoke and death and blood.
"This isn't just about bloodlust…"
A vibrating growl answered him, emanating from the young woman as she began to prowl around him slowly, step by sure step, keeping her front directly facing him in the middle of the demolished room. Smart girl. However, he was smarter. While the havoc she had reaped this night had been partly due to her bloodlust, due to a Dhampir's renowned hunger upon first awakening, Eric knew better now.
"When we first awaken, we all have that… Itch. We all crave what we did most in life, what we enjoyed most. Be it feeding, fucking or fighting, we all fall to it in those first months. I barely left the bedroom with Pam. She was insatiable. Nora ate her way through a whole village. But no… You don't want to fuck or feed, do you? You've fed enough for tonight… No. You've been looking for something to scratch that itch, haven't you? You just hadn't found it yet."
The growling picked up a notch, fangs clicked and Eric smirked. Her fangs were different to theirs, a vampires. They were longer, nearly cutting into her bottom lip, thicker too, glistening with a razor edge and well, she also had two sets instead of one. That explained the gaping holes in the vampire corpses. Her eyes bled to black too, her pupils swallowing iris and sclera alike, bleeding into inky sockets. Still, Eric did not stop.
"None of these vampires put up much of a fight, did they? No. It was too easy. It didn't scratch that itch. They died too soon. They snapped and broke and bled out before the fun could really start, before you could quench that craving… You've been looking for a good fight, and none have managed to slate that hunger. Well…"
He knew all this because he had felt the exact same urge upon his awakening. He had hunted and fucked and bled, but he had only been truly satisfied on that first night when Godric had, shortly, figured out Eric's little problem and had taken to fighting him when Eric had been left adrift in his instincts, lost to his bloodlust. Left unchecked, Eric was sure he would have fed his way through the nearest village, or ten. Vampiric urges and instincts being one of the most ingrained needs, nearly impossible to ignore, very much like this Dhampir currently was doing. The only problem was, this Dhampir had no maker to help her see through her bloodlust, to snap her out of it, to help her with her urges, to feed those needs. And really, Eric couldn't see Bill fucking Compton being much help.
Gently and slowly, as if he didn't have a care in the world, Eric shrugged his jacket off, primly folding it before throwing it onto the floor, stretching out his arms and loosening his limbs. This… This should be fun.
"And then I walked in and you've found the fight you were looking for."
The Dhampir lunged head on. Eric almost tutted as he prepared to bat her away, disappointed she would go for such an obvious choice of attack, but, at the last possible second, she folded in upon herself, bending down low, fainting a drop to sweep at his legs. It worked. The two went barrelling to the floor, crashing through a wall as the Dhampir snarled and wound herself around him. He had barely enough time to free one of his legs, to escape the gnash of fang and to kick the Dhampir away to escape being bitten.
She went sailing through the air, skidding across the clearing of the little cabin, but she didn't stay down for long. Within a blink of an eye, she was up and moving, darting left and right, circling, searching for an opening. She found one when Eric got his footing back, shouldering into his right flank. He held steady, but her own leg shot up, over his shoulder, like a viper, wrapping around his neck to tighten and pull down, bending him in half so his back was exposed to her fang.
Of course, the game couldn't stop so quickly, not when they were just beginning, and the prospect of blood dazed the Dhampir just enough to be blindsided when Eric flung them both backwards, into a tree, knocking the woman off him with a crack and vicious growl. She was back on him soon enough, biting and clawing.
Eric didn't know how long that dance lasted. She got close, perhaps to close for comfort, her fangs skimming here and there once in a while, but Eric had a thousand years of experience, and that was hard to beat. Still, she gave him a good run for his money, surprisingly enough. In truth, Eric was enjoying the tussle perhaps as much as she seemingly was. It had been a long time since Eric had let loose, was able to just fight for fighting sake, to let go of plans, schemes and vampiric politics and law to just be what he was. A vampire who thirsted. It was… Liberating.
However, the game could not last forever, the sun would be coming within an hour, and the Dhampir needed to snap out of her bloodlust before then if he didn't want to be reduced to a pile of ash. On another inbound attack, Eric sent his fist flying, tearing through the woman's stomach, holding her in place by her innards. She howled.
"I'm grieved to cut this short, but end it we have to. Dawn is coming and you need to snap out of this. I've won."
She looked at him then, right in the eye for the first time, snarl dying on her lips and… Smiled. It was a dead thing, that smile, all crooked weeds and empty graves. Leisurely, her hand came up, settling gently on the shoulder of his arm that was currently skewering her. A moment of confusion struck Eric then, bewilderment creasing his brow, sleeking the lines of his eyes before her grip tightened and she hauled herself further up his arm, impaling herself fully onto his arm, almost up to his elbow.
A flush of almost pride flooded him… Before she dived in and Eric realised how she could now reach his fucking shoulder and neck. Her fangs tore into the joint where neck met shoulder, where tendon was straining, ripping and digging in further. Eric bellowed, and he swore, that vibrating growl from the Dhampir sounded suspiciously like laughter. He swung, hard, winding his arm out and away, letting go and watching as the Dhampir was flung backwards, off his arm, taking a chunk of his neck with her.
His hand snapped to his neck, pressing into his wound, hissing at the sting and flare of pain, the feeling of his own blood dribbling through his fingers, down his palm. Being bitten was, as a vampire who normally preformed the biting, strange. Of course, there was pain, a roar of agony at being ripped into, but there was also a… Exhilaration. Excitement. A burning sort of rapture. There was a moment of uncertainty, a line of life and death being balanced on, a single second of wondering whether you would fall on one side or the other. Was this how humans felt when they were bitten? In a way, to Eric, donors and fangbangers were not such a mystery anymore.
Idly, Eric watched as the woman stood, fresh blood coating her already stained mouth, as she deliberately, it must have been deliberate, locked eyes and slowly spat out of hunk of flesh she had bitten off onto the clearing floor. His hand fell away from his neck as he saw her tongue flicker out, running across her fangs and teeth, collecting the blood there in an easy glide. As loathed as he was to stop… Whatever this was, he could feel the pull and call of the earth ringing in his ears, heralding the arrival of the sun, and so, he would have to.
This time, they both dived for each other, and through a tangle of limbs, fangs and surprisingly on her part, headbutts, Eric barely managed to get half a hold onto the Dhampir. With one leg pinning her own down, another leg pinning an arm to her side, a hand restraining her last free arm and his last limb, fingers wrapped around her neck, squeezing warningly, pushing her into the damp earth, Eric managed to hold her down. Like a wild animal, she growled and bucked and twisted, but with a thousand years came a strength she could not match, not quite yet, even if she nearly slipped free once or twice.
Eventually, he watched avidly as those black voids receded in her eyes, allowing that ethereal emerald to burn in the night. Finally, the distinct sound of her fangs retracting followed the sudden limp placidity her form had flopped into. Eric was almost sorry that the fight was over. However, there would be other times. He was sure of it.
"Feeling better?"
He was. Oddly, he had not known he had been itching for a fight as much as he had until he had that urge gratified. For a long while, the Dhampir simply, unnervingly, looked at him. This close and still, her scent was strong, buried underneath all that blood.
"Do it. Kill me."
She was, at least, partially back into her right frame of mind now, especially if she could talk, as crunched and jagged as those almost garbled words were. Her voice was all smoke, sweet but venomous, like honey mixed with hemlock. Her tone was even, perhaps even bored, gaze steady and resilient, nonplussed, unafraid of the possibility of death Eric's presence offered. Uncannily, he remembered a time when the roles were reversed. When he was laying crippled, his sword and shield by his side, waiting for death. Death had come for him that night, with deerskin trousers, mud and blood caked hair, bare feet and a crooked smile. Possibly, what Eric was seeing right now, this unnerved fearlessness, this unflinching will, was what Godric had seen in him all those many nights ago.
"Kill you? Now why would I go and do a thing like that?"
To prove his point, he let up and stepped away, giving her some personal space, just enough to make her not feel trapped or cornered. She sprang into a crouched posture, wearily eyeing him. Whatever she was looking for, searching for, she must have found as she held her hand out, in the direction of the ransacked cabin and whispered a word without ever taking her gaze from him.
"Incendio."
The cabin burst into flames, hot and white and almost blinding. There was a crackle in the air, like mossy electric, earthy but mystical. Magic.
"A Dhampiric witch… Impressive."
Eric retorted as he watched the cabin burn and cinder, little plumes of blackened smoke dancing into the lightening sky. Wiccan's, while as troubling as they were, had nothing on their own counterparts, the wizarding world. For millennia, vampires and wizards had not… Seen eye to eye, should he say. In full honesty, they loathed each other. The wizarding world wanted all species to conform, to be absorbed into their own culture, rules, laws and regulations, and yet, would never grant another species the same liberties they gave themselves. Vampires found them arrogant, conniving, hypercritical, and much preferred to stay to themselves.
Thousands of years ago, after battles and war, the vampire accords had been signed. The two worlds would leave the other one well enough alone. Vampires would not involve themselves in wizarding affairs and, in turn, the wizarding world would leave vampires to their own devices. In truth, it ended up just turning the war into an underground movement, as hate bred underneath the tensions and armistice. It was no secret that vampires found within the wizarding world were executed. The same fate befalling their equivalents in the Vampiric community. As the saying went, the only good witch or wizard was a dead witch or wizard.
In light of this revelation, it was simply amazing that this Dhampir had been conceived in the first place. Who knew Bill Compton, of all vampires, had it in him to bed a witch? Furthermore, Eric had been lucky the Dhampir had been lost to bloodlust, turned to her instincts, mind half gone, or during the fight, she could have easily used her magic and got the jump on Eric and perhaps he would have… Lost. How very disconcerting.
"I'm guessing your kind, or former kind shall we say, tried to kill you when you turned? They so do hate our people. Killing a Dhampir would have been a big coup for them."
No wonder she had ran and escaped from this Sanguini. If she turned to a witch or wizard, she would have been put down for her Vampiric nature. In all likelihood, they had already tried to… Neutralize her. Additionally, in her mind, only knowing the propaganda the wizarding world spewed out, she thought If she turned to a vampire, she would have been executed for her witch blood. Eric highly doubted she had been taught or learned any of the intricacies of the undead social system, nor of Dhampirs and their status within their community, and so, had ran just to survive.
She didn't answer him, only looked on with those daunting eyes of hers. Unfortunately, Eric didn't have time to delve into the complexities of vampire hierarchy, societal structure or law regarding her own breed, not with the sun snapping at their heals, and so, he jumped right for the crux of her weariness.
"I'm not going to kill you."
She cocked her head to the side and looked none too impressed.
"Then what do you want?"
Smart girl indeed. Nothing, even in their unending life, was free. It was a good thing she knew this already. Still, he wasn't quite ready to give away his own schemes and plans, not so easily and early. Not when the real game was just beginning.
"I can help you through this, teach you all there is to know about Vampires, about Dhampirs. I also know your father, I can take you to him, If you like? You can all be, what is it the witches call them? Covens? You can all be a happy little coven."
She stood up, and through the tear in her sodden T-shirt Eric could see a clean patch of stomach. The hole where his fist had previously been nothing but an unmarred stretch of pale skin now. Well, a Dhampir's healing ability certainly outmatched a Vampires. It would have taken Eric at least a few hours to fully heal and even then, the skin and muscle would be tender for a night or two. She cocked a brow at him, her voice droll and simultaneously playfully taunting.
"Don't use words you don't understand."
Eric shrugged.
"Fine then, how about a family?"
She looked away, back to the burning cabin, a little twist to her lips setting it into a wry sort of self-deprecating snarl.
"Don't use words I don't understand."
Eric couldn't stop the laughter that broke free. In another life, another set of circumstances, another set of constrictions, he could see himself saying the same damn thing. Mentally, he sent a call out to Pam, telling her to take Sanguini back to Fangtasia and to get to ground and die for the day. Through the maker bond, he could feel a flare of indignation. Confusion. But overall, acceptance of his order. Pam may be stubborn and lazy, but she knew when not to push him, for which he was thankful for. When nightfall hit once more, he would send another call out, telling Pam to bring Sanguini to Compton's place and then… Well, the fireworks would start.
Until then, he needed to get himself and the littlest Dhampir underground, somewhere safe from the sun. For while she wouldn't burn, she would still feel the need to die for the day, to bury herself somewhere deep and dark. It had been a long time since he had to resort to burying himself in the earth itself, but the thought brought more comfort than displeasure. Those were fond times for himself. The old days.
Not willing to waste any more time reminiscing, he held his hand out to the Dhampir, fingers splayed invitingly.
"I believe me and you are going to get along just fine…"
Traits taken from folklore in this chapter: In Bulgarian folklore about Dhampirs, signs include having no nails and bones. Obviously, I didn't want to make Harry a gelatinous mass, and so, transformed this trait into being flexible, (where Harry was able to literally wrap her leg around Eric's neck and pull downwards despite the angle being odd). Being 'slippery and jelly-like' is also attributed to Dhampirs, but yet again, I didn't want Harry to be boneless nor greasy and simply made this mean she's hard to keep a hold of, even Eric struggles to get a grip on her and keep it. I thought having Harry also, well, impale herself further without flinching, just to get to a food source, would emphasis this seemingly 'boneless' quality Dhampirs are meant to have, while also underlining a Dhampirs compulsion to feed and the strength of their hunger if their willing to go so far to slate it. I thought having these traits done in this way would explain how these myths came to be in this universe, as in a human or perhaps another vampire survived a run in from a Dhampir a long time ago, and having seen their abilities, in their lack of scientific understanding, attributed their flexibility and ability to get out of holds rather easily as being 'boneless' and 'slippery/jelly-like'.
Don't worry, Harry isn't going to be super-powered in this fic, as that would be all too easy to do seen as she still has her magic. However, personally, I don't really like overpowered heroines, and I will be trying my hardest to keep away from that little trope. I've been researching Dhampir weaknesses and have a few little surprises lined up for Harry lol. I just want to stick to the folklore as much as I can as it was these myths that got me interested in the beginning. I hope you're all enjoying this so far!
THANK YOU ALL for all the reviews, follows and favourites! Your support for this fic really does mean a lot to me, and I hope you are enjoying the ride so far!
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