Reminder: rated M for gore and violence. Not recommended for the faint of heart, the particularly sensitive, or easily offended.

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Chapter 2: The Bloody Lesson

Afina struggled to maintain consciousness as the dark stranger carried her deeper into the forest. The feeling of nausea and the excruciating pain in her head had ceased, leaving in its wake a sense of delirium, a lightness of person that made her feel like she was floating in the air. The only part of her that felt heavy was her eyelids, which were struggling to stay open as she longed to surrender to the unavoidable sleep, but she fought and she fought hard.

The man looked down at her, noticing she was still conscious, and a bemused grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"There's no use in fighting it," he said. "The sun will rise soon, and because you are still in transition, slumber is inevitable. It would be wise not to resist it."

"Where are you taking me?" she managed weakly.

"Some place safe. It won't take long for those villagers to come snooping around and the minute they find that mess of yours in the clearing, they'll come looking for you."

"Who are you?" she asked him, struggling to lift her head so she could get a better look at his face. He didn't answer and she was too tired to persist.

They arrived at a cave, which was hidden behind a frozen waterfall and a curtain of thick, overgrown vines and shrubbery, heavy laden with snow. The cavern was freezing and blacker than pitch, but for reasons Afina hadn't yet comprehended, she could still see everything as though a light shone in the dark. The walls were made of obsidian rock, and after what felt like an age of walking through the winding passages, they reached a large opening. In the far corner was a makeshift bed of wolf and bear pelts and the stranger carefully placed her down on a layer of fur before covering her up – not that she needed it. The cold felt wonderful on her cheeks and she sighed almost dreamily as the fur caressed her skin.

Afina drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep almost immediately.

When she awoke some time later, it was to the sound of a steady heartbeat in the darkness. It was strong and constant, a never ending rhythm in twos, like that of a drum. Unlike before, that beating wasn't overwhelming. If anything, it was soothing, gentle and soft – as though it were in the distance somewhere, like a song. She opened her eyes slowly to find she was still in the cave. The blue of her eyes lit up the dark cavern as she took in her surroundings.

The dark stranger was seated on the other end of the opening. Beside him was a single candle, offering barely enough light to see the leather-bound notebook he had in one hand and a quill in the other. Afina sniffed lightly and immediately noticed the scent of blood in the air. She watched as he dipped the quill into an indistinguishable mass beside him, and when he lifted his hand the tip of the quill was stained with the life-giving crimson. And to make matters worse, that mass beside him was where the heartbeat was coming from. He was using a still-living creature's life-blood as his ink.

Afina sat up carefully, not feeling nearly as weak as she had before, but aware that she was not at her full strength either. Instinct told her that she'd feel better if she feasted on the blood of the unknown beast beside the stranger, and just the thought caused her stomach to growl in consent.

"You're awake," the stranger said aloud, not looking up from whatever it was that he was writing. "You've been asleep for three days. I was starting to think you hadn't taken to the transition after all. I had forgotten how long it sometimes takes to turn a mortal."

When she didn't reply, he looked up from his notebook.

"You must be hungry," and with a single movement, he pulled back a heavy cloak, revealing an unconscious woman. The woman's neck had two puncture marks near the base where her flesh would then curve into her shoulder. The smell of the blood washed over Afina's senses and she sighed, licking her lips unconsciously. She wanted to sink her teeth into that skin and ravenously devour every drop of blood in her, but the vision of Henric's bloodied corpse was fresh in her mind. The memory of what she had done to him wracked Afina's soul with a guilt she could barely handle. She turned her face away from the woman, in hopes that looking away would make it easier to suppress her hunger, but the smell seemed to permeate the cavern like the smell of a pot roast, complete with carrots and onion and potatoes. Her mouth watered at the thought and her stomach gave another angry groan, demanding its hunger be sated.

"I can't," Afina insisted. "I won't kill again."

"Why not? You've done it before. Seemed to enjoy it, actually. I've never seen a new fledgling rip out the heart of their meal. You were positively gluttonous."

There it was again – that irritating sense of amusement in his voice, like the fact that she had brutally slaughtered and feasted on her husband was excessively diverting. It angered her, more than she had anticipated, and she sent him a venomous glare.

"I will not kill this innocent girl," Afina shot, her eyes glowing brighter with her anger.

His expression grew dark.

"You shall," he said in a tone so icy, it sent a chill down her spine. "If you starve yourself, your hunger will become so insatiable that you won't just kill one mortal, but dozens – anything with a heartbeat that you can get your hands on. It's better that one die than an entire village."

"I won't do it!" Afina shouted, standing up suddenly. "I didn't ask for this!"

"You chose to transition, Afina. You did ask for this." His reply was laced with a wrath her gut knew she should not test, but she didn't care. The guilt of Henric's death had turned to a grief so terrible, it was consuming her.

"Who did this to me?" she demanded.

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters! I swear to God that I will have my vengeance! Whoever did this to me, whoever turned me was the one who tied up my husband. They knew I would find him there. They knew I would kill him, just like you want me to kill that girl! What kind of sick bastard are you? Who did this to me? WHO DID THIS?!"

Her screams were met with the blur of his fist slamming into the cavern wall beside her head. The stranger stood towering over her, a white-hot anger in his eyes. His face was stern, with no signs of understanding or pity – only wrath, and a twinge of desperation.

"You will feed or I will force you."

She spat at his feet and glared defiantly at him.

"I'd rather die."

"You're already dead," he hissed, and he marched over to the girl who was rousing from her slumber. "You want to risk losing control? Fine by me." His face contorted into that of a monster as his fangs lengthened into sharp razors and he chomped down viciously on the girl's neck, not even bothering to muffle her screams with his hand.

Afina cowered in the corner in horror as she watched him violently tear the flesh of the girl's neck, her blood smearing all over his face and hands. When he was done, he shoved the lifeless corpse violently to the ground, the skull sending a sound crack resonating through the cave. The two locked eyes on one another, staring for several long, tense moments in the dark.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he said in hushed tones. After a few more moments of silence, he finally looked away, pulling a handkerchief from a pocket and wiping the excess blood from his face before sitting back down and picking up his notebook again. Afina watched him carefully, trying to figure out why his face looked so familiar.

"You're a vampire too," she pointed out.

"Clearly."

"Are you the one that turned me?"

"No," he said after a moment's hesitation. Something in the back of her mind nagged at her, telling her not to trust him, but she silenced it immediately. He had helped her on the night of her transition; he had taken her to a safe place; had tried to offer her food; had watched over her these three nights. She didn't know what it was, but something told her that if he had been the one who had turned her, he wouldn't have gone to such lengths to take care of her.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked. It took him a moment or two to answer, and when he did, his voice was so hushed, she could barely make out what he had said.

"Because every lonely monster needs a companion."

They didn't speak a single word to one another for the next week. Afina stubbornly sat in the same corner for seven nights; refusing any food he offered her – human or animal – though it was getting more difficult to resist the temptation. She was starving. Every night was the same. She would awaken, some time after the sun had gone down, and she'd be alone for at least an hour before he would return with "food." He'd silently offer it to her first, and each time she refused him, and each time he met her refusal with unnecessary violence on the poor victim he had ensnared. It got to the point where his brutality no longer disturbed her – at least not as greatly as it had before.

On the eighth night, she awoke to an empty cave once more, only this time, he did not return after the usual hour. She waited, and the longer she waited, the more conscious of her hunger she became. In the past evenings, his barbaric behavior had been her motivation to deny herself what she truly wanted. Now that that motivation was absent, her hunger was more persistent.

By the time the fourth hour had passed, Afina began to notice how dry her skin had become. She could smell the rot coming from her – without the sustenance of living blood, her body was doing what it should have done nearly two weeks prior – it was decaying. But she knew that decay would not mean her death.

Vampires didn't die by starvation.

But they could be driven mad by it – and Afina, being a new fledgling who had only feasted to complete her transition, was on the brink. She could still smell the dried blood on the cavern floor from the stranger's violent attempts to get her to feed. Sensing that he was nowhere near, she crawled over to the space where the blood had pooled.

She was so hungry.

She ran her tongue along the floor, in hopes of getting just a little bit of blood. As disgusting as it was, the taste still remained, and the beast inside her cried out, begging for nourishment. She knew what she was about to do, and tears streamed down her face at the thought.

Block it out, a voice said in her head. Your morality is your weakness. Block it out.

Afina pushed herself weakly to her feet, and made her way out of the cave with ease. The night air was brisk and cool. Snow was beginning to fall from the night sky as Afina wandered about in the woods in search of food. Her bare feet barely touched the deep snow as she made her way through the forest, listening for a sound, any sign of life.

And then she heard it.

The drums.

That heartbeat in her head.

It was smaller than a human's, but strong. Forgetting how weak she truly felt, her senses heightened as she moved more quickly through the trees, following that almighty rhythm. After a short amount of time, she noticed a lone wolf in the distance, its fur a light grey, almost white, causing him to blend almost perfectly with his surroundings.

Afina could almost smell the blood pumping through the wolf's veins and just the thought of blood made her fangs grow long in her mouth. She had a moment's hesitation as the thought of killing an innocent animal plagued her mind, but the hunger was stronger than her conscience. Afina leaped out of her hiding place with a deadly silence that took the wolf completely by surprise.

It yelped and then clawed at her face in an effort to create some distance between them, but the blow barely fazed Afina as she growled at the beast. The wolf dove for her and her arm was soon caught between its jaws, its sharp teeth tearing into her. The pain was excruciating, but her hunger was master. She grabbed the beast and pulled it close to her using her other arm, even as the wolf yanked at her flesh, and she bit directly into the back of its neck. The wolf cried out, immediately releasing her arm, but it was too late.

The blood sent a warmth through Afina, all the way down to her toes. She could feel her flesh revitalizing, could feel the flush returning to her cheeks and the deep russet color to her hair. Her senses increased in precision and everything seemed alive around her. It was exhilarating. Just before she could finish off the beast, she caught the sound of something else – another heartbeat. This time it was human.

She released the wolf and wiped the blood from her face with the back of her wrist as she moved closer to the human heartbeat. The closer she came, the more heartbeats she noticed – more, dozens more. The animal in her demanded to be sated, and having pushed down her conscience, she was more than willing to oblige.

She started with the blacksmith first, then his apprentice. Then the stable boy, the horses, the innkeeper, the barmaid, everyone in the tavern, the priest in the church, the wet-nurse, the whores, the drunks, the gravediggers. All of them. Within three hours, Afina had slaughtered every living soul in the village, her rampage ceasing when the heartbeats did. She was finishing up on a gypsy, when the dark stranger appeared out of nowhere, grabbing her by the shoulder and literally hurdling her off the man. The force of his pull was so great, Afina's body crashed through the tavern wall and she landed in the snow outside.

She watched in drunken amusement as he came following after her, positively livid. But she was so intoxicated from her killing spree that she hardly cared. She merely lay back in the snow and laughed maniacally as she watched the sky dance for her.

"What have you done?" he demanded. When she didn't answer and only continued to laugh, he suddenly appeared in front of her, grabbing her forcefully by the throat and lifting her up into the air. "What have you done?" he shouted. That seemed to snap her out of it because the laughter died and her eyes – which had by this point turned completely black – melted back into their normal blue. Afina's eyes darted here and there, all around them, and she finally took in the carnage.

There were bodies littered in the streets, their necks torn open. The once pristine snow was now running with blood, and the stench of death was sickening.

With a timing that was almost too perfect, her conscience decided to make an appearance, and the guilt that hit her was so powerful, it knocked the wind out of her.

The dark stranger began to notice the change in her countenance and he immediately released her throat, but instead held her face in his hands.

"Oh no you don't. You are not going to go all pious on me again. You're going to face your mistake and learn from it."

"No, God, please no," she pleaded, but he wouldn't hear it. He turned her around so she could face what she had done and held her face firmly in one hand to make sure she looked long and hard.

"God has nothing to do with this, Afina. This was you – this was you losing control, you being too damn stubborn to listen to me. I told you this would happen, Afina. I told you it would. This is what happens when you don't obey."

"I – I didn't want…"

"Yes you did," he insisted. "You wanted their blood. You did it to survive, but you lost control. Say it."

"Please…"

"Say it!"

"I lost control."

"Again."

"I lost control." He continued to tell her what to say, and the more she repeated it, the calmer she became and his rough grip on her face softened considerably. "I need blood to survive. If I don't feed, I can lose control. Losing control leads to unnecessary death. Unnecessary death leads to exposure. I am in control. I need blood to survive. I am in control. I am in control."

"Afina?" She turned to look at him. His face was close to hers; his expression soft with just a hint of genuine concern. "Afina, you don't have to feel everything," he told her, gently caressing the side of her face with the back of two fingers. "That is one of the blessings of being what we are. Yes we must kill to survive, but we don't have to feel each death. You can turn it off."

"I don't want to lose my humanity," she told him with tears in her eyes. "I don't want to be this monster."

"I know… I know."

"What's your name?" When he hesitated to answer, she repeated the question.

"Vlad."

"Have you ever killed like this before, Vlad?"

"Many times. And not just because I was hungry."

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Live with the guilt?"

He held her face for a moment longer before allowing his hand to rest on her shoulder.

"I bury it."

"But what if it resurfaces? What if the dead don't stay dead?"

That's a peculiar way to describe it, he thought to himself with a smirk. "Well, a great deal of rationalization and a healthy dose of denial have always worked for me," was his answer.

She smiled at this, finding it amusing that this powerful vampire before her had need for something so human as rationalization – though she had a feeling that part of him was completely serious. The tears continued to stream down her cheeks.

"Come," he said, placing his hand at the small of her back. "I want to show you something."

He led her back inside to wear the young gypsy was lying on the floor, coughing up his own blood and struggling to stay alive. For the first time, Afina looked at her last living victim – really looked at him. He had a handsome face, with a strong jaw and sharp cheekbones; thick, dark brows and a well-manicured beard. He was clenching the side of his throat in a weak effort to stop the bleeding, but Afina could tell by the sound of his waning heartbeat that he didn't have long.

"Life for these mortals is hard, my dear," Vlad explained, "strenuous, depressing, always living in fear of a death that they were born to meet. Their probation on this earth is so short, so fleeting, it's ending inevitable." Afina knelt beside the gypsy and gently took the hand that was holding the gory wound and carefully moved it away. The gypsy's eyes were filled with fear and pleading. He didn't want to die, she could see it in his face. But the pain he was feeling was pouring out of his eyes. "They live in a constant state of pain and suffering, a yearning for greater things that they can't possibly have," Vlad continued. "Each time you kill, you free a soul from their state of purgatory."

"If I'm freeing them, then why am I plagued with this guilt? Who am I to decide who lives and who dies? I'm not a god."

"You are to them. You cannot age, you cannot be killed, you have power over life and death – powers you haven't even begun to comprehend, powers that I can teach you to use. But you must place this morality of yours aside, Afina. And you must start by setting him free. Finish what you've started."

Afina watched as the blood continued to pour from the gypsy's neck. His heartbeat was slower now, but insistent, as if he were refusing to go.

"Concentrate. Accept your fate and let it go."

And let it go she did. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, taking all the guilt, all the faces of those she had slaughtered and she released them. She didn't want to die, and he was right – if she was going to survive, she had to accept this rationalization that he had offered her as truth. Once she had made up her mind to bury her guilt, it was easy to forget it, and the moment the deed was done, she bent down and finished off the gypsy, drinking in his blood until his heart stopped.

When the deed was done, she looked into the gypsy's eyes and saw the life leave his honey-colored irises, glazing over into a vacant void. She could feel the guilt creeping up, but she violently shoved it down and closed the gypsy's eyes with her hand before turning to look up at her new master.

His expression seemed to be saying "Well?", as though he were waiting for some kind of confirmation that she had done as he had instructed.

"You're right – that is a great deal of rationalization," she said with a slight smile.

He laughed. He had a wonderful smile – the kind that spread all across his face and lightened the eyes.

"Come. We need to clean up your mess," and he offered her his hand, helping her to her feet.

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"Fire is the perfect purifier. But first, let's gather some supplies – bedding, furniture, weapons," he looked her up and down for a moment and smirked. She was still in the torn dress he had found her in, with its massive claw marks exposing her back, stomach, legs, and a portion of her chest, and it was soaked in the blood of the villagers. Her filthy appearance made her look positively feral. "You may want to grab some clothing as well. Take whatever you like. Then we'll burn this place to the ground."

The neighboring towns didn't hear about the fire that completely destroyed the village and killed all its inhabitants in their sleep until a couple of days later. Some called it an accident. Others called it the work of the devil. But no one dared enter that part of the mountains, for all that ventured forth never came out alive.

Would like to take a moment to thank the 3 people that took the time to review chapter 1 - ForeverACharmedOne, MissVD, and invisible reader. I greatly appreciate your kind words, your encouragement, and your reactions to the last chapter. Thanks for the feedback! Please keep it coming!

Notes for the Reader:

Item 1: Not sure if this is even really a "note", more of an explanation or FYI - I cut an entire scene out of this chapter describing the village massacre in more detail. Felt it was a bit much, so I removed it, but the huge musical influence for that one was number 3 (from the soundtrack to a movie I still haven't seen! Curses!). So if it feels like something's missing, it's because an entire scene has been cut. I tried to weave the ends together as best I could. Hopefully I did my job well.

Musical Influences
[1] The Hunter Becomes the Game by Clint Mansell, "Stoker" OST
[2] Beautiful by Apocalyptica, "7th Symphony"
[3] Gypsy Massacre by Danny Elfman, "The Wolfman" OST