Sympathy for the Undead

By:

Saslyax

Chapter III

"Tony Thompson"

I've been a parent for too long. How it would be a nice vacation for me to age: to have my mind decay, my wit wither, and simply succumb to becoming a senile fool, just so I can get a moments rest from my children. How they inflict me with an intolerable headache, as of late. Always causing me worry, frustration, or some other anxiety, whether it is from their choice of friends or diet.

Gregory has always been a loyal son to me. He never questions any of my demands and complies with my requests. I have scarcely argued with him about family concerns. Even though he is rebellious, he respects my wishes.

Of course, he chooses now to act out, like a proper adolescent. I do not need the extra stress weighing me down, with the comet so near, when Rookery is so engrossed on ending us.

Striding over to my son, I corner Gregory like an entranced deer. I state, "You bit him."

I can't even phrase it like a question or eliminate the rigid tone and underlying anger in my voice. I know the answer; I know my eldest too damn well.

Gregory lazily hops down from the cobweb-covered ledge and leaves Rudolph's side. He replies, "Just a taste."

He speaks with juvenile apathy. He acts as if I asked him how his night was at the dinner table. There is also an undertone of absolute smugness in his statement, and he proudly licks the blood off of his lips, in a show of defiance. Gregory even has the nerve to idly turn his back on me and walk away, seemingly without a care in the night.

Barely holding back a growl at his attitude and deliberate disrespect I spit out, "Was it worth betraying your family?"

Over the years I've compiled a list of rules for my children to obey. Avoiding human settlements, staving off of human blood, and avoid being killed by hunters are three rules high up on the list, gleaming in golden lettering.

All human blood ever brought us is trouble. It tempts us with its rich flavor and controls us through continual hunger and cravings. Choking on bland animal blood at least gives us restraint over the cravings. When Gregory sunk his fangs into that squirming bag of flesh, like an ignorant fish, he opened up a door to the Sackville-Bagges' dark history that I would rather not recall.

Centuries ago the clan made a firm pact to never touch the stuff again, and we slowly waned off of the red sin. I refuse to be yanked around by the humiliating addiction and allow my family to reach the repulsive level of those gluttonous bastards who turned us into monsters. They greedily slurped up all our mortality and did not care for anything other than the thirst and the thrill of the hunt.

Sharply pausing in his nonchalant gait, Gregory turns around and aims his cold stare at my own glowering gaze. "Well," he states, "you're the traitor, forever denying the truth of us. We are the dark Gods, but you've turned us into cowards! Skulking around our holes like worms!"

I do not like his tone or where this conversation turns to. His portrayal of me is unsightly. I've done what is necessary to keep this family alive. I am no coward! I would like to see what Gregory's foolhardy, master plan is. What he would do if he were head of the clan.

"What would you have us do?"

"Fight back! Make these mortals' blood run cold," Gregory shouts with fervent enthusiasm. Lost in his tirade, Gregory eagerly thrusts his fists into the air, longing to start a vampire war.

I scoff, "And you could do it Gregory. You are young, strong, ruthless, and willing to risk a stake to the heart to prove it." Praise rains down from my words; it ridicules my son's grandeur crusade and turns it into a laughable delusion. It is a fool's strategy.

"Better a stake than this prison," he growls.

No one sides with Gregory on this matter. Rudolph trembles with rage at his brother's imprudent actions. Rudolph has always loathed being a vampire, and Freda and Anna slink in the shadows. They know to keep quiet and let me deal with Gregory and when his bloodthirsty demeanor comes forth.

Gregory and I are similar in many ways. I see a lot of my younger self in him, and it is a scary sight to behold. His current ideals practically mirror my past ones. He has proven to me that he would do anything for the clan.

The atmosphere gives an illusion of calm as our sharpened insults glide seamlessly across the air, aimed like Rookery's deadly stakes. Even our way of offending the other is similar.

I share a great empathy with Gregory. However, his belief that I am an ignorant child is one I will not tolerate! I will crush his views and force him to see reason.

I bellow, "Do you think me oblivious?"

"What does it matter to you what I think? If I think?"

It is a low blow. He was always a good soldier, a good protector when I could not tend to the family. He never once questioned me when he should have. Our past is regrettable.

"It matters greatly. I feel your sting."

I do. His words are like thin blades dipped in garlic. I have dragged him with me, through the darkest of times our family faced. I have shared his confusion, anger, hatred, pain, and failed to wash him of it.

"But you are Frederick the Great. You feel nothing!"

How I wish he would stop viewing me as the vampire I was; I am no longer the same vampire. Gregory adored and looked up to me for guidance when we were first turned. He admired my power and ruthlessness. I filled his head with my ignorant ideals and took him out human hunting during the hysterics. I instilled into his skull to do anything to protect the family. He was the eldest, and he needed to shelter sensitive Freda, young Anna, and Rudolph when I was not there.

That cruelty and fierceness sticks to my eldest like a pesky leech, even when the hysterics withered and there is no longer any need for mercilessness. I truly did not feel back then. Feelings would have gotten me staked within seconds. It is a shame Gregory's heart is tainted by my wrong ways.

I shake with terrible emotion, and I allow myself to become vulnerable at the most inopportune moment. The retort loaded on the tip of my tongue is dismembered. Our argument is put on hold, indefinitely. How horrid it would be if Gregory and I die here with detestation for the other.

The exploding light leisurely sears my flesh away. The stink of rotting skin fills the air. My family's tortured screams merge with my own in a twisted symphony. Rookery is the creator of this perpetual torment. How I wish I could push my way through the flames, leap out of the light infested crypt, and die with the hunter's severed head in the palm of my hand!

But I have more honorable duties that I am obliged to.

Using my waning energy, I raise my elegant cape in a feeble attempt to cast a dark shadow onto my family. I stand tall in the lethal light's path; I order my legs to continue to hold my weight up and not buckle on me due to the light's abhorrence of our kind.

I howl, "Run!"

It is a pointless plea. There is nowhere to run to. The brutal light devours everything.

There is a deafening crash, and then friendly darkness retaliates to banish the evil luminosity. The piercing screams cease. My family is spared from further agony. I, however, feel no different from seconds before. My flesh burns all over! My one relief is that my family is alive and mostly unharmed.

My head falls, and my body sways uselessly. I collapse into Freda's caring arms. She gently guides me towards the steps. My family flocks to me, assessing the damage. Freda glides her fingertips through my tangled hair. Anna offers her lap as a pillow. Rudolph loyally sits by my side. Gregory shies away after I meet his troubled eyes.

The sympathizer grins like a mad vampire. Cheerfulness and pride radiates off of his small form. He must have quite the arm to dismantle the weapon.

"I found out about the coat of arms! It's Lord McAshton's, my father's boss. The missing stone must be at his house! Did you hear me, Sir?" Tony asks, with his brows knitted in confusion.

I blink, slowly. My eyelids flutter open and shut.

"You barely saved my life."

"He is very, very weak," Freda utters, solemnly.

"I know just what you need," Tony beams so brightly it hurts my eyes.

One second I am in the crypt, surrounded by my family, plus the sympathizer. Now, cows and stacks of hay surround me. I cringe at the pungent stench of animal feces. How do I find myself in a barn? I have no recollection of traveling here.

Struggling a bit, I manage to sit up and dignify myself. My head turns towards the direction I hear Freda's voice. My eyes wince at the strong moonlight. I must be incredibly weak if mere moonlight burns my sight. I quickly force my gaze elsewhere. Judging by the voices, it appears that she is chatting with Tony. Rudolph and Anna are also near the mortal.

I turn towards the back of the barn since the dull light gives me a headache. I am surprised to see Gregory sprawled out next to me. His eyes stare blankly at the darkened ceiling. His appearance is disheveled and his movements are sloppy. When he notices my vigilance, he sits up.

He mutters, "I wish I had your strength of blood, Father. The moon still blesses you, and it calms me to know you've kept your capability after all these years."

Everything is blurry. My sharp senses are dulled and mess with my head. I regretfully miss half of what my son says, so I just curtly nod. Gregory's eyes briefly meet mine before he finds something else of greater interest to look at.

When Freda notices I'm awake she glides over to me and escorts me to the nearest cow. She even uses her compulsion to usher my meal into a state of calmness, so it will not go into frenzy when sink my pulsing fangs into it. I notice nothing else but the thumping of the beast's heart. I am so weak and hungry. Blood will solve everything.

Greedily, I sink my fangs into its meat, and my fingers dig into the animal's flesh. My fangs puncture its arteries and sweet blood flows into my mouth. The cow's grunts of discomfort barely reach my ears. I sigh contently as its blood eases my pain. I do not stop feeding until the cow is drained to the last drop. I lick the stray spatters of blood off of my lips.

I have not eaten this well in a long time, and I can finally think a little clearer again.

Tony leans casually against the door. I am amazed he is not ill from watching me feed so passionately. In fact, he seems to be in a state of awe. …Ah, yes. I remember now. He was the one who suggested this hunting ground. What a strange little mortal.

Continual moos of distress reach my ears. That is when everything really hits me. There is a reason why my family needs to feed as well. They too, were injured in the attack. I growl. It is my entire fault! I should have relocated my family right after Rookery's first assault! I was distracted. My eyes shift towards Tony.

It is odd. I feel absolutely nothing towards the boy. I do not feel like biting his head off and the heavy guilt remains on my shoulders alone. I made a folly and gave Rookery the perfect opportunity to ambush us. It is my mistake. I am slightly proud that Tony managed to clean up my mess so pristinely.

Once everyone finishes devouring their meal, we converge at the center of the barn. I lean against a semi-rotted ladder since I am still feeble from the attack. I force myself to suppress a snarl when I observe Freda bound and muzzle Gregory like a rabid dog. The sight sickens me, but it is a necessary precaution, especially with Tony around. Who knows what the consequences of Gregory sampling a taste of human blood will be?

As we walk towards the exit I declare, "I must find a place to hide you children."

I have no inkling of what to do, especially with me so weak. The blood helped greatly, but it still feels like I have not eaten in three hundred years.

"You can stay at my house," Tony says without an ounce of hesitation in his voice.

"We need darkness, dampness, and decay."

I put good emphasis onto the three D's. I can already imagine the boy's home: Clean and with many windows overlooking Scotland's scenic beauty. I refuse to comply with the boy's request just because he fancies a vampire slumber party.

"Then you need our cellar!"

A basement does sound… nice.

The offer appeals to Rudolph and Anna, if their puppy eyes mean anything.

I say, "I shall only accept your invitation out of sheer politeness and because other options are sparse." Tony smiles at me. "Well, lead the way. I would rather not squander the night."

I am elated it is a short walk to the boy's dwelling. If it were any longer, Freda would have insisted upon carrying me all the way there. I refuse to be coddled any longer. I am full of health after drinking cows' blood. I look away from Freda's knowing gaze, when I stumble over the uneven terrain.

I wince at the resonating bang when Tony shuts the large oak door and cringe when the boards creak due to age and our heavy weight. It is an old home indeed. I worry his parents will hear us and come investigate. I do not need any more humans stumbling upon our existence. Besides, it would take a lot of explaining and a little compulsion to justify our presence here, and I don't have the energy for it tonight.

We descend into the basement, and it feels like I have walked into an icebox. The scent of musk and mold reaches my nostrils. Thick layers of dust cover the heaps of broken knickknacks and tattered furniture. I can even hear mice scurrying about the maze of odds and ends.

Tony bows his head in shame and mumbles, "I'm sorry it's-"

"Perfect!" Freda insists with great joy in her heart.

I have to agree. Many vampire clans would fancy this place if they did not have to share it with the upstairs neighbors.

Everyone inspects the place, and searches for the ideal spot to doze off in during the day. Rudolph and Gregory prefer the classic to humans anyway, coffin approach. Rudolph hops into a wooden crate while Gregory nestles into a wicker chest. I find my way to a comfy looking armchair and recline on it. Anna and Freda follow my lead and claim lounge chairs with tattered, moth-bitten blankets.

"I need to go upstairs, but have a good days sleep! And don't worry I'm on it," The boy's enthusiasm is strangely soothing. My eyelids gradually shut.

"On what dear?" Freda asks.

We are both perplexed by Tony's odd manner of speaking, but I am too tired to utter a word.

"Finding the amulet, Mother. That's how we kids talk today." I presume Rudolph learned this modern jargon from Tony.

Hmm, it seems I have just mentally called the boy by his actual name instead of substituting it with one of my numerous nicknames. When did I start referring to him by his given name? I have not a clue. The word Tony sounds so natural every time I think of it. I fear I have been using it for a while now. I am too exhausted to pick apart the meaning of my new discovery, so I hand the reins over to my subconscious.

To be continued…

I'm really sorry for the long delay. I've been really busy lately, and when I did end up getting some spare time to write I had a tendency to procrastinate and not write. Hopefully, I got the tone and characterizations right. I haven't touched this fic in a while, and my writing's a little rusty. I also plan on doing a little art project, so I'm unsure when I will be able to post the next chapter. I'm shooting for early August, but my estimate might change.

Anyway, if it isn't too much trouble leave a review! They really make my day, and I'd love to know what you think. Constructive crit is helpful too. Thanks for reading!

Posted: 7-19-10

Revised: 8-18-13