Chapter 9 - Angel with Black Wings

The rest of the day Zexion was incredible nervous. Whatever he was doing, being it to scrub the tub or to deliver a envelope two streets down, his thoughts always circled around the events that would take place later that night.

"Master Demyx requested me to his room for tonight," he told Madam Mireille, who was currently arm deep in dough for the next weeks bread. Absently she turned to him, whipping white flour all over her face.

"He did? Well, that's good. I'm out tonight anyway, so I don't have to cook anything. Just grab anything you can get hold on to eat for today." Zexion had to admit that he was a little disappointed by the lack of caring from Madam Mireille. But on the other hand it was what he was payed for, wasn't it? The money he got on a weekly basis, and the Lord knows after that short time he had more money than ever before in his life, was for his service as a help for Madam Mireille in the household and for delivering minor papers for Artur or Demyx. For his blood he'd gotten revenge for his sister's death and his education.

As he knocked at the plain white door again later that night he heard again faint music from the other side, but this time it had a strange exotic character and sounded quite unfamiliar.

He entered the room after a muffled 'come in' and tried to control his racing heartbeat as he adamantly stayed under the door frame. Unlike the first time he was in this room there were only a few candles lit that illuminated the area around the brightly fireplace. Demyx sat in front of it with crossed legs on the thick carpet. The strange shaped blue instrument rested in his lap as he gently stroke its strings. His eyes darted over to Zexion briefly and he could swear that they somewhat glowed sea-green in the dark. But it could've also been the the shadow of the fire, in which Master Demyx' now stone like eyes stared.

"Come and sit here with me, Zexion. Take a pillow and don't be afraid to sit on the ground. I've been to Japan and there even the noblemen and the emperor himself sits on pillows." His voice was low as if his mind was elsewhere, at some point behind those flames. Zexion did as he said, but hesitated to place himself nearer to the vampire as a meter. The tune the vampire played was silent and low and sounded almost sad. It took some minutes to pass until Demyx spoke again.

"I think I have to apologize for my behaviour earlier this day," a faint smile played on his lips and Zexion mumbled something in response. "But I've been very tired and... thirsty from the travel. Though I think I should be used to it by now."

"Have you travelled much, Master?" Zexion found himself asking.

"Hmh," again that humming deep tone in the back of his throat. "You know?" he started, "I've been born in a very cold land. I'm sure you never have heard of it, a island so far north that's there snow nearly all the year. And I wanted to feel the warmth of the air and the water, and the earth. I travelled indeed to many different countries and met many different people, yet to just find out that they're all the same. At least during the end." The air around the vampire seemed to lower some degrees, despite the lively fire, as his unmoving eyes suddenly turned cold. Zexion tried to slide away without moving to much. He was sure he could see the monster he still called his Master clearly in the wild light of the dancing flames.

With a sigh the tension fell from Demyx and his eyes became stony again, the tone as luring as always. "So Zexion, tell me what you've learned during my absence."

The boy had to gulp a few times to gather enough saliva in his mouth to speak. "Uh, Ms. Venable told me the letters till the K. And Artur said I'm ready to calculate with bigger numbers now. And the result of the music lessons..." He trailed of as he saw Demyx' little smile.

"Well, I heard your efforts..."

"Master Demyx! I-" the boy stopped mid sentence as Demyx wrapped the hypnosis around his little mind like a hand killing the flame of a candle. The vampire caught the light child as he was about to crumble down and placed him in his lap. Zexion's head lolled back, exposing his white neck, and rested it on Demyx' shoulder.

Demyx sighed heavy as he embraced the child. "Ah, my dear little Zexion. You have to forgive me for what I do to you. You know? I've never decided to be what I am today. I never had a single chance... never..." The room was silent for some time. Though it was never really silent for Demyx, who could hear the cracking of the fire and the steady calm heartbeat of the boy in his lap as well as the low murmurs of Artur down in his office where he read some numbers out aloud. "I... want you to understand... I gave up on feeling awful for what I do to you humans... but you've awoken those feelings again. But even some dirty creature like myself just wants to live." He bent down and inhaled the sweet scent of virginal skin. "You really have to forgive me as I do not have any other chance... again..." And he bit down gently, his sharp lethal fangs breaking easily through the skin until they reached the much desired blood. Unlike the first time he could control himself, it was still very early and he hadn't put any hypnosis on a human before, which was still a energy sucking process.

After some gulps he quickly healed the wound and carried the limp body into the little chamber the boy called his room. Very gently he lay him down, covered him in the sheets and as he closed his eyes with the silent order to sleep now he asked himself, not for the first time, what his children would've been like, if he ever had had the chance to meet them.

As he stepped down the stair he was light flooded and a little tune formed itself into his mind. He had to write it up later. But not now. He allowed his feet to give in the temptation to run at full speed through the streets, over a bridge, down to the dirty slums, following a heavenly sense he'd caught up the moment he left his house's doors behind.

She once has been so beautiful. And it was that sense of beauty that had lead him to her. She, that was a hooded figure that leaned weakly against the corner of a house, bathed in the sick yellow light of the light street lamp.

And she would die that night.

Not because of him, but of the fever that raged in her tiny body. The fever that made her once pearl-like skin grey and ugly and her bright bright eyes so fogged it was sickening. Her hair clung tightly to her sweat wet face in thick and thin strands of blackness, it kinda looked as if her doll-face had broken up in scattered pieces. And the smell of death surrounded her like mist.

It was that smell, the mixture of disease and the sweetness of sanies and beauty that made her an angel in his eyes. He stepped in front of her, blocking the yellow light and throwing a shadow over her. It took her clouded and fogged mind to react to him, but finally she looked up and met his eyes. For an instant they grew wide and clear, but it was so fast even he couldn't be sure of it. She had recognized him as what he really was.

"Are you finally here?" the voice was just a shadow of its former beauty, but he could still detect the traces of light and nice tones, though all a human would here was a low caw. Now standing on front of her he could smell the source of her disease. The sickening sweet sense of rotting flesh told him the way down her arm into the delicate bud of her hand where dark blood and dirt equally had gathered into a lightly deep cut on the inside of her hand. Perhaps from a knife or a scissor or even just a splinter of glass. He didn't know, but what he knew was that humans were such fragile creatures and on the same time so difficult to kill. How could such a young woman die on something as simple as a cut on the hand, and how could an old warrior, who seeks death in the fight, being the last man standing on a battlefield filled with the corpses of his brothers? He'd seen it all.

"Are you my angel?" His eyes started glowing. Something knowing in her voice was like food for the beast inside his dry heart and his hunger started to roar.

"I am no angel." He answered her sincerely and picked her up. She was very light, the fever had eaten away everything from her. Her eyes rolled around uncontrolled, but her whisper was strong.

"No, you're not. You're my angel of death.... are you... are you here to... take me there?" Those simple words seemed to have exhausted her, since her breathing went heavier. He'd carried her away from the crowded street into an empty backyard. Her body fitted perfectly in his lap as he embraced her like a lover would do. That smell made him more and more thirsty.

"That's perhaps what I am." The sound her lungs made as she inhaled the air was even for him, who could no longer feel like the mortals do, painfully and threatening. He gently stroke the strands out of her face and looked her once again in her eyes before he slowly sank his teeth in the crook of her neck.

Her last words, mere whispers of her parting soul, were low, so low. Oh, my dear beauty. You're mine tonight. You're the princess of the wolves, lay down and sleep my beloved one.

'Thank you' and her soul was away. Leaving a now cold body. Death had taken the look of pain and exhaustion from her face and given her some of her old beauty back. Demyx arranged her body gently, turned his back on her and in the next instant he'd vanished.

'Thank you'

So, sorry for this one being so short, but I just had to write it after watching some vampire movie.

At the moment I'm chatting with a friend about our bottle spinning sins. Truth or Dare, in short. He had to go in 14cm heels, while I had once danced a springdance naked around our cherry tree on new years eve ^____^