This chapter is huge and I did try to break it up but I couldn't find a way to do so without destroying the flow of it so I apologise. I might leave the posting of the next chapter for a bit longer because of said length... We'll see how I go with the next few chapters of the sequel.
I actually quite like this chapter, it's a point of view I've never experimented with before but it seemed to fit for this particular section for me. Because it's kinda new to me, I'd love some feedback :) Who knows maybe I'll try it again one day...
xx
Your mind is swimming with the images of broken corpses from the past as well as the ones you are about to create. You can see the piles of humans, stacked haphazardly in the dank cells, their naked bodies bruised and mutilated beyond recognition. Then there are those who were left alive, on the precipice of death, so close that the stench of it clung to their naked bodies. They were left to rot with the dead corpses, there was always the smell of human excrement mixed with desperation and fear that you will never ever forget. Some of the living, desperate for sustenance, ate what was left of the dead, stripping away the flesh as tears streaked their faces. The longer they were there, the fewer their tears became, their will to survive stronger than any attachment to other humans. Some tried to starve themselves, refusing every form of sustenance in the hope that they would die before their captors came for them a third time. That was the lifespan of a human in these places. The strongest only survived three feedings. Then they were discarded or tossed to the masses as playthings, alive or dead, it did not matter.
You will take revenge for these people. You will make the kin of their captors know nothing but pain as they beg for the release of death. Their blood will run. You want to drink it but your mind is too full of what-if's to let you off so easily. As you wander through the lower rooms of this lush townhouse, part of your mind wonders how they managed to keep themselves hidden for all these years. You've spent centuries walking the earth night and day for this very purpose. You acknowledge that for the first few centuries that had been you goal but in recent years you were searching for a way to die, a way to join you sisters. Your proud and beautiful sisters.
Your mind snaps back to the task at hand as you think of you four sisters so cruelly killed by the blood relation of those who now inhabit this house. Your pace quickens as you follow your nose, your feet carrying you soundlessly through this great house. You can no longer see, your rage is that great. Everything is a blur, the only fixed point in your life is that vile scent that draws you up the stairs that are at the back of the house.
You can feel that it's cooler here. The air would send chills up the spine of anyone else, even you if you weren't ready to burst with vengeful anger. If you were heavier with your footsteps maybe they would hear you on the creaky stairs but you ghost up the stairs, hands bunching in the black velvet of your skirts. You feel a growl building in the back of your throat but you will not allow yourself that release. Not yet, anyway. They may have super powers but yours are greater. In so many ways are you a superior killing machine but if they are given a chance to mount a defence then they might actually be able to stop you. That's only if they have the knowledge of their forefathers. You hope, being so newly created that they will not be.
You are briefly troubled by the thought that perhaps they have found a way to create new vampires rather than using the normal methods of creation but if you can kill these, you can kill more. You have to stifle a sigh, yet another reason against suicide.
You pause, you can hear them now, their voices low as the whisper desperately to each other. You let a twisted smile grace you mouth. They don't know you are here. The scent of their blood is even stronger now, the repugnant smell is invading every one of your senses. They smell of filth, of death, of rotting corpses filled with maggots that writhe under a midday sun. They do not carry the stench of humanity, rather that of death and suffering. The smell makes you think of your sisters as they screamed, the filth filling them from the inside, burning them until they could do nothing but collapse, their bodies turning to ash before your eyes.
That growl slips out and you hear their voices stop on the other side of the door. You do not care. They will die now. The door swings open easily, exposing four shocked faces to your angry gaze. You sweep into the room and send them all backwards, pinning them to the walls with your eyes. They let out startled screams as pressure clamps around their necks and they begin to scramble for freedom that you will never grant. You let your transformation overwhelm you, your teeth becoming sharp enough to pierce their alabaster skin, you eyes turning whiter than the purest snow and your wings tear through the layer of your clothing until you stand before them in your torn dress, exposing your thin undergarments to them.
"You will die," you say coldly, resorting to your own language when their own fails you. "I shall make you suffer the agony you inflicted on others. You will never be allowed to kill in the way you did before. Tonight will Sanguine Vampiris end," you finish, wondering if they know what your are saying. You don't care. You let out a high pitched wail before turning to face the one closest to you. She is blonde, her innocent blue eyes juxtaposing the severity of her crimes in a way that makes you angrier. Tears begin to cloud your vision before spilling red and hot down your cheeks.
You raise a hand to her head and grab on tightly to the blonde stands, pulling her from the wall. You drag her, kicking and screaming to the middle of the room. You let the images of her crimes flood not only her mind but that of everyone in the room. They all gasp and stop struggling for a second. This gives you pause, they should know what they have done. But then you see the images too and your heart is beating faster. You briefly search each of their minds, pleased with your choice for the first victim. They all seem particularly attached to this one.
You let out a cry of vengeance before raising you free hand to your mouth. You let the sharp points of your teeth cut through your skin and the blood is coursing down your arm, dripping onto the floor. You shiver at the cool liquid, somehow much cooler than your skin but then you hear a call.
"NO!" a voice shouts. You let out a hiss as you look up towards the noise. The tall one seems frightened, which is strange considering the tenor of his mind. You brush away the thought and make the effort to speak in his own tongue to ensure he hears every word you say.
"She will die first. She will die for the crimes you have all committed. You will watch her die. She will swallow my essence and you will watch her burn up from the inside."
"NO!" he yells again. You growl at his insolence. His long brown hair is shading his eyes but you can see the desperation there. "Take me instead," he pleads. Your wings ripple with his words.
"No, John, don't," comes the response from the blonde. She has stopped fighting but still shakes in your grasp. You tug roughly at her hair and she stumbles, falling to her knees.
"You will all die," you say, enunciating every word so they can understand you through your thick accent. You raise your hand again and they all scream out for you to stop. With an evil smile you look down at the fearful blonde. She is staring at you, a plea in her eyes but they do not water. You realise she is not fighting. Your grip on her hair loosens and you know she can feel it but she doesn't pull away. Her lip is trembling and your entire body convulses. You step back suddenly as if you have been burned.
You are torn, half your body is ready to attack, to tear these monsters apart as a message to any others who may come along but you feel the need to understand and eventually, that desire wins out.
Frantically you search the blonde's memories. You take several steps backwards until you can feel you wings pushing against the wall. They are not… They are different… They… You are so shocked you can't think properly, you mind jumps from idea to idea to idea and you scream as you take in the blonde's shaking form. You propel the woman away from you as you sink into the nearest corner but you are careful to use only the amount of force strictly necessary.
"Abominations," you whisper accusingly as you clutch you legs to you, as if it will protect you from the disease these foolish children have burdened themselves and now you with. They are all sliding down the walls now, your grip on them diminishing as fear streaks through you. You finally understand how those people in the cells felt. You take in these people properly for the first time. Aside from the blonde, there is no other female in the room. Then there is the tall thin man who is crawling over to the woman, his hair shielding his eyes from your own probing gaze. There is a shorter man, he is rounder too and he looks the most shocked at your presence. He stares at you without fear but you can sense his apprehension without probing his mind. The woman and the man, now huddled in a corner are watching you cautiously. He looks at you with a dangerous glare and, despite the fact you could kill him without lifting a finger, you fear him. The woman looks frightened yes but there is curiosity in her gaze too, her eyes are kind as they assess your trembling figure.
Then a smell fills your nose. The last man smells different to the rest of them, the scent of vampire coming more strongly from him. You turn you head abruptly to find his cold grey blue eyes staring into yours. His face is blank as he watches you. Focusing on his face, you feel yourself calm down enough to reverse the process of your transformation. You wince internally as your wings retract. It hurts and it's a pain you've never gotten used to. Soon enough you are curled in the corner, looking far more human than they believe possible. They all thought you were… You search their collective minds for a word.
Evangelical.
Dangerous.
Beast.
Abnormal.
You like that last one the most even though you don't really know what it means. It is thought with less venom than the others. The first one makes you want to laugh and you probably would if this situation wasn't absolutely terrifying, the way the man thinks it is not angry, more… you have to search his mind for the word. He's peeved. Not that he thinks it in a language you speak but you think if you pay enough attention, you could probably learn it from him. He is still staring at you, his steely gaze locked on yours. Your breath is haggard and you struggle against the conflicting emotions but his gaze keeps you calm.
You hear shuffling from across the room and flick your eyes to the source of the noise. The blonde woman is wiggling out of the tall man's grasp, her eyes locked on you. She freezes when she sees you watching her, her eyes widening. You hold perfectly still, trying not to startle her. A few tense moments pass as you feel around her mind. She narrows her eyes at the intrusion and you're surprised she can feel it, normally you are able to pry without fear of consequences. Objections only arise when you look into the minds of your now long dead sisters. The thought of your sisters makes you shudder slightly, reminding you of why you are here.
"Helen," comes the whisper from the man closest to you and you are distracted by his curiosity, it blunts the force of your anger. His eyes are kind as they look at you and you find yourself glad he's here, even if his transformation was worse than the others. You realise pretty quickly that he is in fact a blood relative of those you seek to destroy but your curiosity at the conundrum he presents is waring with your urge to kill.
"Helen, I think you should come closer," he says, his eyes never leaving yours. His accent is thick and you recognize it does not come from this place. He too is foreign to this world. This makes you marginally less inclined to kill him.
"Are you mad Nikola?" the tall one hisses in response. You watch him for a moment, noting the deep fear in his eyes which almost makes you laugh. Of anyone in this room to be afraid of, you are not the first pick.
"Helen, please," the accented one, Nikola, calls out softly. You turn your head so you can watch him as he regards you. He was only a few metres away from you to begin with but now he is sidling closer to you. You know the curiosity in his eyes is reflected in yours and you are tempted to move closer to him. You fight the urge though, keeping your body as still as you can.
You can hear more noise and know, without looking that the blonde one, Helen, is moving closer to you. Slowly you turn your head and watch as she approaches you on hands and knees. Just over her shoulder you can see the tall one… John, you decide when searching the blonde's mind. He looks fearful and torn, unable to decide whether to attack you or run before you attack him. Again you feel like laughing at the idiocy of the situation. You can feel the shaking return to your limbs as they both get closer. The instinctual part of your mind that only a few minutes ago was in control wants you to run but you won't, you know they cannot hurt you. They may not be vampires but there is enough blood in their bodies for your abilities to protect you.
"Helen," whispers the other man. "What are you doing?"
"Quiet Nigel," she says softly, her eyes never leaving yours. Her voice is steady and you wonder why she is so curious of you. The few humans that have witnessed your transformation were terrified, convinced your appearance was a message from Satan. But not this strange woman or the stranger man. Helen and Nikola. Their names resonate in your mind and you can't help but like it. It has been so long since you have met people like you, people who are different, not quite as human as the rest of the world.
"Helen." Her name slips off your tongue with a practiced ease. She stills momentarily, her eyes widening at your low whisper but then she smiles tentatively at you. You turn your head more sharply than you realise to look at the man.
"Nikola." Your voice is stronger now, his name coming out a little louder.
"Yes," the woman says kindly. She is now kneeling in front of you. Close enough to provide comfort these humans love to give but not so close that you feel crowded. "I am Helen." Her words are slow and enunciated as if she fears you will not understand."Do you have a name?"
"Akrin'tanki," you answer solemnly, eyes wide. She smiles at you and you can hear her trying to process it internally. "Josephine," you say, taking pity on her.
"No," she says gently. "I am Helen."
"I know that." Your reply is sharper than you intend but when you hear a chuckle from beside you, you cease to worry that you have offended them. You've been aware this whole time of this man's mind. He has been watching you carefully, scared for his friends safety but he also seems to think you are alike. You want to smile at his foolish and incorrect assumption. This man has evil running through his veins. Nikola, you try and correct, hoping that by giving him a name, you will want to kill him less. You aren't sure why you want to not want to kill him though.
"You can speak?" Helen asks gently.
"Yes."
There is a pause and you uncurl your legs so they tuck under you. This way you can watch them better. You notice the round one, Nigel appraising your body as you move and you can't help but let your gaze follow the same path on his body. You smile fleetingly before turning back to face Helen. She is gazing at your body apprehensively and for the first time you realise the mess you've made of your dress. The skirt is mostly alright but with a few splashes of rapidly drying blood crusting on it. Your bodice, on the other hand, is a lost cause. The velvet is slashed and hanging pitifully off your body, exposing your corset and thin cotton chemise, or what is left of it anyway. You can feel the cool air soothing the angry marks on your back and you realise that your outfit is hanging together by a thread. You wrap your arms around your chest in a vain attempt to keep as much of your pale skin hidden as possible.
"Josephine," you say again, "is the name my maid gave me." You work hard to keep your accent clear so they can understand you. It's difficult with all the rage coursing through your body but you're fairly certain you've succeeded.
"It doesn't suit you." The voice is quiet and you are slightly startled by his words but as you turn to look at Nikola you smile. You cock your head to the side and ask him why in the most natural means possible. He gasps and flinches as at the words. You realise your mistake and shrink away from him.
"What? What is it?" Helen asks hurriedly and you notice the concern she has for her friend surpasses that she feels for the other males in the room.
"I can hear her," Nikola whispers, his eyes wide in astonishment. You breathe a sigh of relief when you realise that he isn't afraid of you. You hadn't meant to speak to him like that but after all these years of letting you abilities go unchecked you forgot that your words were not said for everyone to hear.
"What do you mean?" Helen asks, her voice still tinged with worry. You flick your eyes back to hers and answer her. She gasps as your voice fills her ears. She opens her mouth as if to ask a question but then the door swings open and a man hurries in, carrying a gun. His eyes frantically sweep the room before settling on you. You freeze as you take in this new man, searching the minds of those around you for some reason he is here. The tall one, John, is glad the other man is here. He thinks that the two of them could subdue you. The round one is still in shock which is only increased by the appearance of their friend. Friend, you muse. This new man is no enemy to them. You can smell the filthy blood in his body too but his eyes are kind as he assess how close you are to Helen and Nikola. His eyes are clever and you can't help but drink him in as he does the same to you.
After a few more moments of searching, you find his name.
"James," you say softly and he looks startled.
"Who is this?" he asks. Anyone else would make the words accusing but not him, he asks softly, his voice laced with blatant curiosity.
Helen opens her mouth to try and use your real name but then closes it before shooting you a look you cannot decipher.
"Josephine."
James crouches down next to Helen and you can see his mind trying to piece together what has occurred here. He may not be looking at them, but his mind is trying to comprehend why the others are so far away from you. Cautiously and skimming over some of the details, you show him exactly what happened. He tenses, gasps and then, mouth hanging open, falls back a little. You feel a twinge of guilt but this is what he wanted. Helen, forgetting you, turns to her friend and wraps her arms around his shoulders.
"James!" she calls frantically. He has stopped shaking but his eyes are still unfocused as he relives the memories you are giving him.
"STOP!" yells the tall one, coming to stand above you. His figure is imposing and you assume that a human would be frightened of him. But not you. Slowly your raise your eyes from James to look at him. Part of your mind is still showing James what he missed but the rest of it has enough firepower to deal with this man.
Slowly, so as not to startle him, you push him backwards, feet half sliding along the floor boards until he is standing on the other side of the room. His eyes widen and he looks furious but you let him go, refusing to restrain him more than necessary. The moment he realises this, he starts walking towards you again, anger boiling up inside him. Again you make him walk backwards, not looking at him as you watch James's figure. He comes for you a third time and, with a sigh, you turn to face him.
"Stop," you say, echoing his words. Nikola, who has been watching your exchange with fascination smiles in a twisted way at your tone. You look away from the tall one as you pin him to the wall without a second thought.
Finally James lets out a gasp and you smile softly at him. Helen helps him sit up and he stares at you in wonder.
"Yes." You make sure to answer his question out loud but forget he hadn't asked it that way. He looks confused for a moment before his entire body relaxes.
A strangled noise comes from across the room and you remember you have John pinned against the wall. You release him and he falls to the ground next to Nigel.
"He is fine," you say to Helen who is looking between John and James. "You have my word."
She looks at you, shocked and confused but her questions go unasked as John gets to his feet and starts to stride towards you.
You stand so quickly that the others gasp in fright and John stops dead. You close the distance between the two of you in three steps.
"Do not try and hurt me Mr. Druitt." Your voice is cold and thick as you feel rage build in your chest. "You will not succeed and I will take your life as payment for the disturbance." He seems taken aback at the image you present. Your breathing is heavy as you contain your inexplicable anger at this man, struggling to stay human and not kill him.
"Please don't hurt him," comes Helen's voice from behind you. You spin on your heel and pose a question to her.
"He is my fiancé," she answers. Unsatisfied with her answer, you cock your head at her.
She uses her mind to answer you and you can feel her excitement at her ability to do so. You smile softly at the pleasure this gives her, ignoring the anger radiating from the man behind you. You are holding him back effortlessly, barely paying him any attention as you take in the enraptured blonde before you. Her smile is wide and her eyes twinkle at this connection between the two of you. You see the flicker of fear in her eyes and drop your hold on the tall one.
Amazingly he advances towards you again. You roll your eyes before spinning around to face him again. This time you do not stop him until he is centimetres from you, bending over in an attempt to intimidate you. You stand your ground as you watch him. He is growling and you can see the anger in his mind but whatever blackness tinges this man's heart, you almost don't care. There are more pressing issues. You turn away from him and feel his anger grow. With a sigh, you release him from your mental hold and he swipes at you with one hand. He almost connects with the side of your head but you remain stiff, his arm flying back as you keep yourself from harm. He cries out it pain and you turn your head to look at him. He is hunched over, near the wall, glaring at you. With another angry curse, he launches himself at you again, fists flying as he tries to land a blow. You stand impassive as his hands land around you. You let yourself relax, glad for the confirmation of what you already suspected. He cannot hurt you. None of them can.
"Stop, John, please stop," Helen calls, coming to her feet. She is heading towards you but you cannot let his bouncing blows land on this innocent woman. Not that she is particularly innocent in far too many ways but she does not deserve any more physical pain than that you already inflicted.
"Stay back," you instruct calmly and you are pleased to see her stop in her tracks. John, now realising the futility of his actions, is stepping away from you, looking horrified. Slowly, you walk towards him and you can see the fear multiply. Fighting each of the instincts that tell you to kill him, you reach out a hand to touch his face. He continues to back away until he hits the wall. Before he can scramble away, you cup his cheek.
"I will not hurt you," you say softly and he seems reassured by your voice. You begin to smile at him but then your vision clouds with the familiar haze that always pre-empts a vision.
John is bald now, wearing clothes that do not come from this time. His face is still scarred but his eyes show a darkness the man in front of you is yet to embrace fully. He is clutching a knife, dripping with blood and, as your vision returns to normal, you know what is going to happen. You just know.
With a hiss you shrink back, withdrawing your hand quickly. You feet are carrying you backwards with alarming speed and you can feel your wings begin to break through the newly healed skin on you back but you are so frightened that the sharp pain this brings doesn't register. The only thing that does is the warm arms that land around your waist, pulling you into a corner of the room. Part of your mind rebels against these arms and the overwhelming smell of vampire that accompanies them but the care with which you are held makes your body flood with a feeling you have never felt before.
You know bright red tears are streaking down your face but as you stare at the bewildered man opposite you, that is the least of your worries. You are shaking now and feel slightly relieved at that. You almost always shiver after these visions and, as you begin to sink to the floor, your strength momentarily sapped, you are pleased that those warm arms are still holding you tight.
"Akrin'tanki."
He butchers your name with his rough accent but you turn in his arms and attempt a smile for Nikola's efforts. He smiles back but you can still see the confusion in his eyes.
"Are you alright?" Helen's voice interrupts your moment of eye contact and you turn to give her a small smile. Pretending that John isn't still in the room, you focus on withdrawing your wings. After all the exertion of the evening, you are unable to halt the tiny moan of pain as the great muscled structures curl in amongst your body. When you are finally yourself again, you let out a sigh and lean further into Nikola's embrace. His arms tighten around you and though you know you should be disgusted, you really aren't.
Few words are exchanged but Helen quickly convinces you to stand and leave the room. She and Nikola try to carry you but you are stronger than that. You fight off their helping hands before gesturing at Helen to lead the way. You can feel Nikola's presence behind you and you can hear John and Nigel whispering but you ignore their fear and their uncertainty, instead focusing on the positivity of the other three. You can feel their curiosity at what you are and while you could probably answer all their questions in the blink of an eye, you restrain yourself. They lead you back down to the warmth of the rest of the house. Briefly you wonder why the room they were in was so bare when the rest of the house is so plushly appointed. You pass through the foyer and Helen lets out a gasp as she takes in the sleeping form of the maid who let you in.
"She is fine." Helen turns at your words, still not understanding. You close your eyes briefly and awaken the woman. She stirs and Helen turns back to her, helping the elderly woman to her feet. You make sure to keep yourself hidden behind the large frame of James but you are fairly sure she recognizes you. You are impressed though, that she doesn't bat an eye but then again, after the things you've seen in Helen's mind there is no reason she should be alarmed by someone as innocent looking as you. You offer her a tentative smile and receive a curt nod in response. Helen hesitates, looking between you and the elderly woman who is still leaning against her for support.
"We'll be fine, tend to her," James says before you have a chance to reassure her. You look up at him curiously and you can sense he is aware of your gaze but he does not move. Helen nods and then looks directly at you.
"I'll be right in," she says slowly. You can tell she is enunciating to make sure you understand her. You can't stop yourself rolling your eyes at her attitude but she doesn't see it and soon enough James and Nikola are gently pulling you towards a sitting room you passed on your way in. They seat you on the largest sofa, near the fireplace and then step back, apparently at a loss as to what to do. You remind yourself to sit up straight, the way all the ladies do and they looks at you strangely. Their eyes assess your body and then you remember to look down at your clothes. Your skirt has a few more tears than before and you chemise and corset are hanging on by a thread as your rather meagre chest threatens to spill over. You raise a hand and tug at the remaining sleeve, trying for some of that modesty these English praise so highly. You have no problem with your state of dress, in fact you'd rather divulge yourself of the skirt entirely, its weight is cumbersome and the layers make you feel stifled.
Acting without thought, you stand up, extend one nail and reach behind you to slice the remaining ties of your dress. It's an older style, one from a previous generation but fashion had never been your forte. The velvet falls to the ground with a soft thump and you are left standing in you petticoats. You think about removing these too but as you eye your rather perturbed audience, you decide against it, instead settling back down. It may not be much but at least your legs are a little more free. This urge to be unencumbered always follows your visions, they make your skin crawl and you want to be stripped to your skin so that you can claw at yourself and make the feelings go away.
You look up at the confused men and try to smile kindly at them.
"Sit," you say softly. They share a look before finding seats. James sits across from you but Nikola seems comfortable enough to take a seat at the other end of the sofa you sit at. You smile at each of them again before filtering through their minds for the answers you seek. Neither gasp at the intrusion as Helen did and you sit in perfect silence as you learn about what made them become these abominations. You flick through their memories, comparing them to each other and that of Helen's. They all tell the same story but with different levels of detail. James is exact in his thoughts, noting objectively but with an emotional tinge that colours his fear for Helen. Nikola, on the other hand, has memories based almost entirely on emotion. You wince as you feel his pain, his transformation was almost as complete as yours. He is indeed a completely different man. You move further through his memories, astonished at the level of fear he felt for the others, particularly Helen. You shoot him a look as you try to decipher his tumultuous emotions. He is staring at you with an intensity that you know mirrors your own.