Chapter 22: Child of the Blood Moon
Asher's heart hammered in his chest, and cold sweat slicked his skin. The creature—a twisted vampire—hung over the unconscious man, its grotesque pale skin glowing eerily under the full moon's light. Its red eyes glinted with predatory hunger, fixed on the frail man's shallow breaths. The stillness in the room was suffocating, punctuated only by the occasional rasp of the man's breath, who remained unaware of the horror stalking beside his bed.
Asher's thoughts raced, each more frantic than the last:
What if I just let it happen? What if I walk away and leave him to die?
But even as his mind led towards the idea, he knew he couldn't.
No matter who this man was, I can't just stand by and let this creature claim a life.
I won't let anyone die when I can stop it!
"Hey shit-bag, get the fuck away from that man!"
The monster's head slowly turned toward him, its grin wide and sickening. It hissed, showing off jagged teeth, claws flexing in anticipation. Asher could feel its hunger in the air—thick, toxic, and suffocating.
He wasn't a fighter. He'd never been one to engage in combat, but he couldn't abandon a life in the balance.
His eyes darted across the room, landing on the stick propped against the wall. It wasn't much, but it was all he had. He grabbed it quickly, feeling the weight of it settle into his hands. Solid. Heavier than expected. As he gripped it, a strange surge of strength flooded his body, a raw power emanating from the very wood itself.
It was as if the stick gave him something— not just strength but a sense of confidence.
He held it in front of him, trembling, but steady. "Hey, what's wrong, McFly? Chicken?!"
The creature hissed, and in an instant, it lunged.
Asher barely had time to react. The vampire's claws slashed toward him with terrifying speed. He swung the stick up just in time, meeting the strike with a force he hadn't known he possessed. The stick groaned under the impact, splinters cracking from the pressure, but it held firm.
The vampire let out an animalistic growl, its claws digging into the wood, tearing through it with unnatural strength. Asher grit his teeth, pushing back, but the creature didn't relent. It twisted, dragging its claws across the stick, splintering it further. His arms burned with effort as he fought to hold the line, but he could feel the wood weakening with every second.
"Kaspar!" Asher shouted, his voice cracking. "Wake up! Please!"
Kaspar stirred in the corner, blinking in confusion. He rubbed his face, eyes half-lidded as he took in the chaos around him. His gaze locked onto the vampire, and his face drained of color.
For a moment, he seemed frozen—too stunned to react. Then, his eyes met Asher's, and the urgency in Asher's voice seemed to pierce through his fog.
"Gods… Monster?" Kaspar whispered, his voice shaking.
"We don't have time for this!" Asher's voice cracked again, his frustration clear. "Help me, Kaspar!"
Kaspar's eyes flicked wildly around the room, his panic rising. His hands fumbled, finally settling on the gun he'd acquired earlier. He clumsily aimed it at the vampire, but in his haste, he pulled the trigger—and heard only an empty click.
"Damn barrel… barrel no bite!" Kaspar swore, cursing as he tossed the useless weapon aside.
In desperation, he reached into his satchel and pulled out several of his mechanical creatures—the clockwork animals meant for amusement. With a quick flick of his wrist, he hurled them at the vampire.
The tiny automatons skittered and buzzed around the vampire's feet dancing with a harmonious hum.
The vampire screeched, swiping at them with terrifying speed. Its claws tore through them with ease, smashing through metal and gears, leaving nothing but shattered pieces scattered on the floor.
Kaspar's face twisted with grief. "Carla, Fred… nonononononono..." he muttered, his words coming in jagged bursts, overcome with emotion..
The vampire's attention snapped back to Asher. Its glowing red eyes narrowed, and with a sickening hiss, it lunged again, claws extended, its mouth opening to reveal razor sharp, jagged fangs.
Asher stepped forward, tightening his grip on the stick, the surge of strength still coursing through his body. "Fucking bastard," he spat, voice trembling with determination. "We have no choice but to fight."
Kaspar's face faltered, his eyes wide with terror. "Asher, no—this madness!"
But Asher didn't waver. He wasn't going to let this thing hurt another soul.
The vampire struck in a blur of movement. Its claws tore through the air, slashing across Asher's side.
Pain bloomed instantly, sharp and biting. His shirt shredded as its claws left bloody tracks along his skin. The pain was intense but manageable. He gritted his teeth, refusing to buckle, and raised the stick once more to block the next strike.
The vampire paused, its eyes scanning the bloodied wound. It sniffed the air, its red eyes widening with hunger. A sickening glee spread across its face as it stepped closer, its anticipation palpable. The air around them thickened with its hunger.
Euphoria.
Asher saw it in the vampire's twisted expression, the unholy joy as it prepared to feast.
Terrified, Kaspar clutched the music box Otto had given them. The once charming trinket now felt like a fragile thread connecting him to sanity. His hands shook as he held it tight against his chest.
"Sorry… I sorry, Asher…" Kaspar's voice broke, thin and ragged as he turned toward the door, his feet faltering with each step. "I can't— I can't…"
His words trailed off as he fumbled with the music box, his trembling fingers turning the crank on the side. Its faint melody filled the silence, but it was clear the song wasn't meant to calm the situation.
The room seemed to gain an invisible presence with this action.
"Otto… get… get here... come... it… emergency... need... now…"
His voice was a broken plea, wrapped in a rhythm too erratic to follow. He pressed the music box harder to his chest and bolted for the door, running for salvation.
Asher barely registered the words before the air around him seemed to freeze.
The shadows deepened, and a terrible pressure bore down on the room. Kaspar was halfway to the door when the vampire reacted. From the darkness, a shadowy shackle shot out, chains snapping with lightning speed. They wrapped around Kaspar's legs before he could react.
The vampire's wings—formed of swirling darkness—unfurled in an explosion of movement. It was too fast, too powerful. As Kaspar lifted his hand, trying to defend himself, the vampire was upon him.
In an instant, it tore through Kaspar's hand with a sickening crunch, severing it with brutal precision. Kaspar screamed, a sharp, agonized sound that echoed in the air. The music box fell from his grasp, tumbling to the floor, its faint melody stopping abruptly as if silenced by the carnage.
Asher's stomach churned, his mind racing in panic as Kaspar crumpled to the floor, clutching his bleeding wrist. His eyes were wide, filled with disbelief and raw agony. The vampire stood over him, grinning with twisted delight, savoring the destruction it had wrought.
And Asher—helpless, terrified, and unable to do anything to stop it—was left with the crushing realization that things were spiraling well beyond his control.