The Tale of the Canadian Vampire
Chapter Three
Francis carried Matthew to an abandoned shack out in the middle of nowhere. A small stream -probably the one Matthew had drank from before- went silently past the broken down home. Inside, was a rather large bed that took up more of the space, surprising Matthew.
"Don't you-,"
"Sleep in coffins? Really Matthew?" Francis asked, looking down at the man who was now smiling sheepishly.
"Well, I don't know. You haven't really told me about vampires, and if I'm to become one it would be nice to know," he retorted with a small huff, crossing his arms against his chest.
"I'll tell you everything you want to know, but tonight," he said, and before Matthew could protest, a finger was pressed against his lips. "I hope you don't mind sharing a bed, I didn't have time to drag another bed out here. Or a coffin if you would prefer," came the snickered reply, and as a response, Matthew lightly smacked Francis in the chest, earning him a large pout from the Frenchman.
Francis set Matthew down on the bed as if he was as delicate as a figurine, like the Canadian was his most prized possession. Matthew had a light blush coating his cheeks, having never slept beside anyone else in a bed, especially not a vampire. Nonetheless, he slipped under the covers that reeked of decay.
Soon enough, he found himself being pulled back against the same strong chest, finding the vampire's grip a lot stronger than his own. That was to be expected though since he assumed that vampires had superhuman strength, speed and hearing because he was experiencing all of those things as he underwent his vampire turning.
He found his eyes fluttering closed as the sweet scent of roses fell over him, beginning to lull him into a deep slumber. There was no windows in the shack, so it was pitch black, giving Matthew a huge sense of relief; he honestly felt safe with Francis, knowing that he wouldn't hurt him.
When Matthew awoke, he could hear the crickets chirping rather loudly outside, signaling that it was nightfall. Slowly getting to his feet, he paused, looking around for a certain vampire. He sighed, running a hand through his hair when he saw no one inside of the shack lurking in the shadows. Typical Francis.
His body suddenly staggered backwards a shot from a rifle rang in his ears, making him trip over a uprooted wooden plank in the floor. His head slammed against the cold floor but yet as he waited for the pain to come, none did.
He reached back to grope under the coat of messy hair and he was amazed to feel that no blood was drawn from him. He remembered why he fell in the first place and he staid absolutely still. The gunshot was so close, and yet, he heard no footsteps approaching the rotten old wood that kept him separated from what was happening out in the moonlit forest.
Matthew carefully got up, making his way towards the door. He wished that there was windows since it would make it easier to peer out of and see if there was any harm about. He opened the door a crack, not daring to open it anymore. His lilac orbs looked out and he was horrified at the sight in front of him.
His knees felt weak and he ripped his eyes away, slamming the door loud enough to alert anything that was nearby. He sank down to the floor, keeping his back pressed tightly against the door to keep out any unwanted predators.
An electric shock ran through him as the door began shaking, the voice from outside barely audible. His face was pale, paler than usual like he had just seen a ghost, and he felt like he was going to empty all of the contents in his stomach at any moment.
"Matthew!" Francis yelled, his hands slamming against the door repeatedly like Matthew was keeping something hostage that Francis needed to keep himself alive.
Matthew could hear the agitation in his voice and he knew what was going to happen next. He scrambled to his feet and he dove under the bed for cover as the old, wooden door shattered to pieces like it was a piece of glass
The light from the moonlight streamed into the room, letting the shadows dance around in the far corners in fear of being drowned out by the moon. The poor Canadian was trembling under the safety of the wooden bed frame with his face buried deep into his arms.
"Come here," came a soothing voice and Matthew, being as stubborn as he was at times, shook his head. "Well, you asked for it then."
Before the young male could even asked, he was being dragged away from the shadows and out into the moonlight.
His feet kicked hard, like a child having a temper tantrum as he tried to impale his foot on a joint that would send the Frenchman to the ground in a whimper of pain. He was placed in front of what had caused the gunshot in the first place, seeing the body below him gasping for air. The man's eyes were distant, not focused on anything. Lungs go first, the eyes go last, that's what he had read in a variety of different books, most of them about dramatic adventures involving suffering and murder. The man's pupils were dulling as the life spilled out of the large wound on his neck, his face a ghostly white.
Matthew stayed silent, though he looked away from the hunter who was bleeding to death. He didn't deserve to die; Matthew was sure he had a wife and children at home, awaiting his return home with fresh meat for dinner. What would happen when their father never returned home?
"You monster!" the Canadian yelled before he could stop himself. He didn't want to become something that killed an innocent being just for the sake of survive. Why couldn't Francis just feed off of animals instead to quench his blood thirst?
Ignoring the pained expression plastered on the Frenchman's face, Matthew stood and ran off with the wind, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust in his path. He ran a lot faster than he would ever expect to but it was all in turning, right? That's what he assumed at least.
The farther he ran, the more he started to think, beginning to regret his words, but he was still angered at the vampire for his acts. Then again, he hadn't heard the whole story, but what more did he need than to see a hunter's soul slowly leaving the corpse, never to be seen again?
He shuddered at the thought as he tried not to recall the disturbing memory of the dying man, gasping for air like a fish out of water. That was the last thing he wanted to think about, and now that he was by himself, he had no clue what to do; he didn't know the forest or what it had to offer to him to quench his thirst.
He knew he needed Francis for him to lead him through becoming a vampire and show him the ropes as he heard some nurses refer to it as when he was back in the hospital.
Loud footfalls fell onto the mossy forest floor as the Canadian darted away, cursing multiple times to himself for his stupid act. He felt almost delusional, his blood thirst overpowering him like never before. The first thing he could sight of was a bear cub, which seemed easy enough. As he approached his target, he ran a tongue over his canine teeth that were starting to sharpen but they looked nothing like vampire fangs yet. As he grabbed hold of the cub with massive force, it let out the loudest cry he had ever heard, making his head spin. The next thing he saw was a large, furious mother grizzly bear, her large paw swinging like a bat at him, trying to knock Matthew off of his feet for an easier kill.
Matthew hightailed it out of there like a deer sprinting away from a hunter, wanting, no needing another day to live. He wasn't sure how or if vampires even died, but he didn't want to find out, not this way anyway.
He hadn't seen the French vampire since he had called him a monster and now the guilt was beginning to eat away and him, his mind calling him nasty names that made him feel even worse about what he had done. Francis didn't deserve that and he was going to apologize once he found him and if he got away from the angry grizzly that was hot on his heels.
As he was about to leap over a fallen log that had a variety of insects crawling among it, a blur came out of the bushes and slammed him down into the ground with full force. A hand was pressed tightly to his mouth so no noise could escape him and when he looked up, a pair of ruby red eyes were staring him down, making him shrink down into the dirt even more. The creature's hair shined under the beams of moonlight, his snowy hair falling gracefully around his head.
He could hear the large, heavy paws from the bear get softer and softer as she disappeared into the night and Matthew prayed he would never see her again. When the hand was pulled away from his mouth, he pushed the man away, his nose scrunching up in distaste.
"Your hands taste terrible!" Matthew said in a fit as he turned his head to spit into the bush.
An odd laugh, definitely inhuman escaped the man, scaring off most of the birds in the area as they took flight, circling around the starry sky and cawing warning to one another to watch out for the maniac on the ground.
"Tch, you get use to it after awhile," came the simple reply and Matthew frowned; he didn't want to have someone's dirt covered hand pressed against his mouth ever again. "Anyways, who the hell are you? I've never seen you around before," he said, leaning much too close for the Canadian's taste.
Out of response, he leaned back, not pleased with the albino's behaviour or his manners. "My name's Matthew," he said simply. As the man began blabbering about something about being awesome, he noticed the large fangs that prodded at his bottom lip every time he spoke. "You're a vampire!" he exclaimed after a moment.
"Well, no shit I'm a vampire. I was just telling you that," came the replied huff. "I was saying that my name's Gilbert and I'm the most awesome vampire in the land," he said proudly, puffing out his chest to make himself look bigger than he truly was.
If he was a vampire, then maybe he would know of Francis? Well, there was no harm in asking. And when he did, another strange laugh escaped Gilbert, making Matthew feel like his ears were bleeding at the annoying laugh. Was it truly necessary?
"Ja, he's part of the awesome trio than I made up!" said the albino, springing to his feet as he struck a pose like a superhero. "Gilbert, Francis and Antonio, sexiest vampires the world has ever seen!" he yelled before he snickered.
"So, where is Francis?" he asked, trying to get some sort of help to find the man who had turned him into a vampire in the first place.
A puzzled looked crossed Gilbert's face and he shrugged. "No idea."
Matthew ran a hand down his face as he got up, letting out an agitated sigh. This vampire was of no help, but his company was nice. "Oh, thank you for saving me from the bear. I'm really thirsty," he admitted, rubbing the back of his head.
"You need food? Well, come with me and I'll try to make you as awesome as I," he said, walking out of the bush and back onto the dirt path made for hunters to easily find their way around the forest.
As they were walking, Gilbert was telling Matthew about how awesome he truly was, when they saw a large buck run past, and they both paused, staring at each other, exchanging no words between them but they had the same objective; kill.
They took off after the buck with Matthew lagging behind a little but due to not being a fully fledged vampire yet, but he would be soon. He followed a trail of blood and when he finally caught up to Gilbert, he paused, seeing the buck laying on the ground, his eyes closed like he was in a peaceful slumber. Around his neck was the shadowed form of a familiar figure and beside him stood Gilbert, grinning proudly like he just won the lottery.
"Found him!" the Prussian exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air in success as a large grin plastered across his face.
Matthew's eyes saddened as he walked over to the two vampires, putting a smile on his face as he took a deep breath; he had a lot of apologising to do.