Blood pooled from the wound in his hand. Raphael’s body burned with agony, his every muscle sore, the thought of blacking out here was immense. Certainly, this must be the end.
“And done! You finish nailing that board in?” Jan yelled from across the rooftop they were sitting on. It had been an arduous day of work, with Raphael already recovering, his exacerbated by the manual labor. He had no reason to help, but extra funds, the chance to do some good and any opportunity to get away from his monstrous new housemate was preferable.
“I’m almost finished. Just give me a second.” Raphael carefully grabbed the nails Jan had brought. Jan was once again assisting with refugee housing along with some improvements for pre-existing buildings. His hands certainly weren't idle, though Raphael was welcomed to offer his own. Though Raphael’s exhaustion came much sooner, nor was his expertise as vast as Jan’s. He narrowly avoided hitting his own thumb several times, though he wished not to break the streak. Holding himself still, taking labored breaths, and swinging down with feeble might, it was enough, finally getting the last of the metal pins into their new wooden sheathes.
He fell on his back, the new wood of the roof laid hard upon his back, but he was too tired to ask for more accommodating options. Gathering his breath, Jan sat near to him, keeping some distance. “You’re not looking too good. Are you sure you’re fine?”
Raphael sat up slowly, the rays of the sun pushing down upon him. “Just tired.” He could sense the look in Jan’s eyes. “I don’t have the plague, I am certain. I am just recovering from some injuries.”
Jan looked at Raphael incredulously, who was covered in even more bandages than before. He seemed to believe him, as he said “Well, you aren't covered in boils or coughing, but if you do-”
Raphael interjected, “I understand. Not a soul here wants to be stricken with disease. I will not contribute to such maladies, I assure you.” His clothes hid the worst injuries from the battle with the overgrown toad, though his days spent in absence were a sign of some kind.
“I know you clearly have your own things happening, but I don’t see you for days and you come back injured, obviously I have to ask what occurred last time I saw you. Since you’re living like a hermit, I’d be the only one to know, you know?” His words were courteous, if a bit pompous. Raphael appreciated the sentiment nonetheless, as the story that unfolded was quite a conversation starter. What to actually tell him was a different story entirely.
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Raphael had awoken to the vampire huddled in a corner of the abandoned house, the light blanketing him in its protective veil while it watched from the darkness. It sat, watching him, as he awkwardly pulled himself up. The rest had done his body good, but he was clearly not moving without some difficulty for a while. He looked at the vampire, the single blue eye visible while the right one remained hidden behind the bangs. It unnerved him someone, the more he gazed, as he broke the ice with a dry throat. “Are you still hungry?”
The vampire simply kept watching, responding, “Always hungry”. This certainly did not bode well.
Raphael followed up, trying to gauge its answers, “Why not drink my blood now?”
The vampire shifted, shimming slightly away from the beam of light pouring in from outside, “You feed you. Then, you feed me”. He was the livestock as it were. The thought was somehow depressing more than horrifying. Though, a mutualistic relationship might be possible. That, and its manner of speaking showed definite improvements.
Trying to measure the vampire’s intellect, Raphael offered an inquiry, “Do you have any plans beyond that? Is there anything you can think of?” The vampire was silent, the stillness was the answer. “Well, I suppose things will have to be discussed later in that regard.”
Raphael tried standing up, his legs and feet sore and weak as he wobbled upwards. Looking around, he noticed the windows of the house did in fact allow for little room for the vampire. They had remained shut to prevent any bugs from making homes inside, but could be used to trap it for at least a while. Noting this unexpected advantage, Raphael tried speaking, before the vampire spoke of its own accord. “I don’t like.”
Raphael noted this change. “The light, you mean? Given what happened before, I suppose that makes sense.” This expression was peculiar compared to their scant few attempts at conversation. Or rather his attempts to get it to converse.
“Light. I HATE. That,” She pointed at Raphael, “Words. Thing, things, the ask. I don’t like.” Raphael posited what its broken sentences could mean. Hypothesizing for a second, he asked to his dismay, “Do you mean questions?”
The vampire replied, “I don’t like.”
Raphael noted this, asking again, “Why don’t you like questions?”
The vampire retorted, “Head. Strange. Make strange”.
Raphael wondered aloud, “How does it make it strange?”
It yelled back “I don’t know!”
Raphael noted the sudden burst in hostility. The vampire appeared confused, as though a fog presented itself in its mind. Raphael calmed himself, changing his approach. “I can see it bothers you. But I do not know more, if I do not ask questions, I cannot get better, and I cannot feed you. No questions, no feeding.”
The vampire’s eye focused on him, a plain look of worry had appeared. Discomfort versus longevity. The vampire sighed, disdain remained present but it did not raise its voice. “Ask. Questions”.
Raphael thanked his luck that the strategy worked, as he continued with his inquiries.
Noting the vampire’s change in demeanor, he wondered if she understood more than before. A name would be good to have. He looked at it, seeing the single eye returning the gaze while she sat. No, the vampire likely wouldn’t discuss it, as Raphael switched course. “What do you know about those jewels inside those creatures?” The vampire merely stared, the head tilting slightly. “Those red rocks, the ones you, err, ate.”
The vampire thought. Ate. Rock. She did not eat rocks. She ate. Blood. She ate only blood. His blood, more blood. Lots of blood. More. More. And more. Most. Chunks. Heavy. Denser. Bigger. Hers. Her blood. Hers. They were hers. To reclaim. To return. Remembered. She would remember. She ate, she remembered. “I eat. I remember.”
Raphael figured she understood the question, but insisted on clarification, “Anything else about them? Why did you eat them, what makes them important?” His confusion demanded answers, but the vampire only repeated the words. “I EAT. I REMEMBER.”
The human kept asking. She felt weird. She did not like it. His face looked weird. He was not talking. The light kept moving. She moved away some more, but more light kept coming inside. She would have to escape somehow, but outside was not safe. Had the human lead here on purpose. Was he smart enough to do that? Her fangs were bared, as she tried to think, at least thinking about thinking about what to do.
Raphael noted the vampire’s sudden rise in hostility. Under the wild assumption that it wasn’t imbecilic, its repeated words meant more than what he expected. Disregard what you thought, focus on what there is. Not that it remembers eating, rather, perhaps a causal relationship. If it eats, then it remembers? That might explain its changes, perhaps through consumption, the mental faculties may return. Whether for good or ill, at least being able to hold a conversation sounded preferable to this predicament.
His pondering cut abruptly upon realizing the vampire was baring its fangs at him, albeit from a distance and while scuttling away from the light pouring from the windows. She was on edge as much as he, perhaps moreso, though that was highly doubtful. Looking about the room, there were certainly enough objects to shield a human, or a vampire, from the rays of the sun. Raphael painfully stood up and pushed a cabinet aside, his muscles poking at him from every direction in doing so. He moved it in front of the window, as darkness filled the room once more, save for the bed.
The vampire moved about freely, looking around, seemingly taking it all in, at least that’s how it appeared to him. Raphael spoke up, “You feed me. I will feed you. I help you, you help me now.” He had its complete attention, though whether she still held ill will was hard to discern.
The human had made the light fade, most of it anyways. She could move. This was good. She walked towards him. She could hear it, the blood pulsing with him. It was savory, it was tantalizing, it was hers to claim. But it was weak. She wanted more. If he lived, she could have more. Her fangs drooled as she spasmed. If she waited, she would have even more. Patience sat sickly in her mind, anathema to the hunger. It felt wrong. But she could feel good soon. He had helped her. He would feed her. He lives; she will eat. She will live. She will not die here.
The vampire appeared to hold back the urge to eat, subtlety as absent as ice in summer. But she did not attack, thus Raphael placed his facade in front once more. Continuing the questions, he asked, “During the night, can you hunt food again. You take the blood, and bring back the meat. But no other humans. Agreed?”
She eats, he then eats, she eats from him again. She would get to eat even more. The human has good ideas, many good ideas. She would eat. “I will eat.” The human’s shoulders raised and lowered, she did not parse meaning from them.
This was likely the best he could get from it. Better than nothing, though he had more questions. “Speaking of eating, those gems. Since you ate them, were they made of blood as well?” Blood would cool and harden like other liquids, but into a large crystalline form? The absurdity was wiped away by witnessing it himself. But something about them. It scared him. In the instances where he saw them, and thought of them again. A need. A desire. An offering, something to take. It was greater in the battle against the toad, but his self-preservation placed it paramount to all other desires. Why was it so enticing?
The vampire spoke plainly. “Blood. Mine. To return.” There was something to be said about the poor diction, but given the previous questions, changing his approach seemed appropriate. Perhaps, given its connection and obsession with blood, the vampire held a particular relationship with such objects. As well, the evidence of its appearance and mannerisms changing, restoring its form somehow, had to serve some correlation.
A possibility bolted through Raphael’s mind. The gems were the vampire’s to begin with, it was reclaiming what was lost, somehow. How did it lose them? When did it? Were they a part of the vampire’s body? How could that be? The questions were many, but he stopped that detour. This was a hypothesis, one born from assumption. Given the speech patterns and limited understanding, the likelihood of further answers there was slim. Better to pivot once more.
“Do you know if there are any more of those, err, blood gems? Where they would be?” The relationship between the monsters that appeared and the gems was not clear. Something was there, but he couldn’t nail down what exactly it what.
She stopped to try and think. The human called them “gems”. They were many. She could smell them. They were hers. They were her. They were gone. She sent them away. She had to. She won’t not die here. She did that. Because------
“Many. Mine. I smell. I…….” The vampire seemed to struggle with the words, not in saying them, but rather something failed to make thought into words. Was it missing something? The abruptness appeared not deliberate, but indicative. Something wasn’t complete in its mind.
Raphael shrugged. No other questions came to mind. Grabbing a piece of fried jerky, he chewed and moved outside, leaving the vampire to ruminate. He was exhausted, he should not be moving, but he could not count of anyone else for aid. He would recover. Whether fast enough to dissuade the vampire from killing him? Perhaps only God knew that answer. Raphael shrugged. No use asking Him.
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Jan sat silently. He clasped his hands together before saying, “I’ll be honest, I don’t think anyone would believe you. I don’t think I believe you. Why a giant toad? Why not a rabbit, or a squirrel?” The story Raphael told him was absurd, let alone this foreign man managing to somehow kill such a beast. “And the body disappeared afterwards? That’s a load of shit if I ever heard it. I’m only believing it so far because you look so damn serious.”
Raphael figured his story wouldn’t do much. He had omitted the vampire’s involvement, as one monstrosity was enough to consider. Obviously, this would cause some contradictions in the story, but even with those, the tale seemed too farfetched even for him.
“That’s what I saw. And the gems…..” Raphael tried thinking about them more, he couldn’t get their involvement out of his mind. Crimson stones that sparkled in the light, but were dark like dried blood. The connection to the vampire was affecting his thoughts. It could not be shaken, unlike the mosquitoes that continued to harass him.
Jan sat silently, smacking a mosquito away swiftly and effortlessly. He spoke up, “Well. Here’s a thought for your story. Supposing, and I mean supposing of course, that these jewels or whatever you saw were connected to those monsters, right?” Raphael looked at him, awaiting the conclusion to the proposal. “What if you have it backwards. What if those gems are cursed or somehow? Think about it. You said a pig monster appeared in Zori, where from what I’ve heard, there was plenty of farming, and a toad appeared in the woods outside of town, where I know there are plenty of ponds. I know we don’t get large monsters, at all, but that would make the story more believable?” Jan commented, the story sounded much better this way, would be more fun to tell
Raphael thought about it. The sequence of events made more sense this way. If paired with his previous hypothesis, then the vampire’s gems, or whatever they are, are corruptive. Given the vampire’s insistence of finding more, the chances are that there are more out in the world. Terrifying power granted to even the tiniest of animals, what would happen should a more dangerous creature be afflicted by a blood gem?49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkAtwRgjlie
Raphael shuddered. Jan’s suggestion sounded like fun, at least to him. This guy was taking things way too seriously. “Relax. You’re fine. Worst case scenario, things work out, besides, if just one guy can handle those monsters, then Răscruce will manage. Hell, I could handle it no problem.
The foreign man returned a haunted gaze, “I sincerely doubt that.”
Whatever, it was his worries, not Jan’s. “Animals are dumb, I figure us humans could handle that sort of thing easily.” He looked at his own hands, his callouses were rougher than usual from the last week of work. “Still, imagine having more of anything. I could get extra hands, could get so much more done.” A wistful look pervaded his eyes.
Raphael retorted, “How would you even manage having more arms?” His fear makes way for curiosity over Jan’s fantasy.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5pKhUhvs47
Jan smiled, “Because I’m me, I can manage just about anything.” Whether bravado or narcissism, Raphael could not tell what drove Jan. Regardless, he was useful, that could not be denied.
“Oh, speaking of creepy stuff. I heard some rumors as well, if you wanna hear.” Raphael sighed, there wasn’t much need for gossip, but there wasn’t anything better to do for now.
“Why not? Given what I’ve seen, I doubt much more could surprise me.”
“Well, the first one was that some man in town, couldn’t tell if it was a refugee or not, claims to have seen his dead uncle walking around in the woods, but the man died 5 years ago. He was a devout believer in God, and yet walked the land of living, though the body was decayed, it kept moving.” Jan said eagerly, the chance to spook Raphael was there.
Raphael was not impressed. Nothing comes back from death. That was the certainty of the world, without exception. Ignoring the obvious exaggeration by Jan, what was there to be scared by, an impossibility? “I suppose that would be terrifying.”
The foreign man appeared unimpressed, “Well, how about even more refugees showing up as of late. Apparently, some people are saying there are more monsters out there, would lend credence to that story of yours now, huh?” Jan spoke confidently, assurance in his voice belying the tragedy that occurred.
This was intriguing. Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. If there was perhaps another creature, related to a blood gem in fact, then that would solidify his hypothesis even more. Raphael took note, this was very concerning.
The foreign man seemed to be more invested now, truly a solid choice of information. Time to try a tricky finish. “One last one. Apparently, some kids spotted some markings made in blood around the town, with bloody rags around trees. Might be someone up to something.” Jan put up his hands. “I don’t believe it, but that would make for something to keep an eye on.”
Raphael felt his stomach drop. Someone spotted him setting the bait for the vampire. Of course, anyone without context would misconstrue it as something else. That was a stupid mistake. He noted his own desperation clouding his planning. It was too late for regrets, but never enough to make corrections.
Jan noted Raphael’s concern. That was admittedly the weakest of the rumors, sure there was witnesses, but it held up as flimsy as a rag in a storm. Still, the guy looked scared, considering the tall tale he told with monsters and jewels and whatnot. Though, such gems sounded awesome, what wonders they could hold. Never mind that, the foreign man was probably already shaken up from just living in a former plague house, and this was just making his nerves shot. Though, how he hadn’t contracted the plague was astounding.
“Well, never mind that. What I wanna know is how you’ve been doing in that house. You sure you’re fine?” Jan looked Raphael over, noting the bandages that weren’t there previously, but aside from that, he looked normal.
Raphael caught his breath. The last few days have been nothing but holding his breath whenever the vampire was around. He could barely rest with it present, and during the nights, it wandered off without anything he could do to stop it. From what he gathered, and what the vampire had gathered back to the house, it didn’t seem to be attacking any humans, which was good. It had acquired a fair bit of game, as he had his fill of fresh meat, not having to pay anything in return. Aside from his sanity, as the vampire would watch him wherever it remained in the house. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten up today; he still needed the rest. But his heart couldn’t talk going back to before around a monster.
“I have been better. I am just working on my convalescence as best I can.” Raphael gave a weak smile.
Jan furrowed his brow, the more illustrious vernacular throwing him off alongside the brief dismissal. “Well, what I will say is I’m not buying some of your story. You clearly aren’t doing great, you have the look of someone that wants to get out of town, and you managed to get yourself in one piece regardless. C’mon, spill the story.”
His boredom had gotten him to punch straight to Raphael’s core. Given the scenario, better to stick to the truth than pretend there isn’t a monster living with him. He sighed, replying “If you must know, I trained to become a doctor under my old mentor. He, passed away not long ago. Before he did, he told me I could receive teaching from an old associate of his in Bucharest. He made a letter of introduction before he died, and I’ve been on my way there ever since.”
The foreign man’s tale seemed absurd, but given the many people that passed through Răscruce, it never failed to fascinate Jan, nor did it sound impossible. “Well, my friend, you’re almost at your goal. From maps I’ve seen in my father’s study, Bucharest is a clear path from Răscruce. You’ll get there in no time.”
Raphael noted the positive attitude; it was welcoming to here after all this time.
But the thoughts still lingered. The monsters he saw did not escape his vision. The blood he lost, the blood he felt on him with each swing of his weapons. It was no fantasy, only a tangible horror that sought the death of all else that would encounter it.
The foreign man’s thoughts were still dark, it was too much to have lurking around, surely, he could fix that. “Well, also on the bright side, I think I did see that woman you mentioned before. Carla? Right. Dark hair, yay tall? She was over by the church yesterday, so maybe you could go see if it’s her.” This seemed to do the trick, as Raphael lifted his gaze.
“Really? Thank you for the information. I’ll be sure to head over then.” Raphael sat up, the wooden roof having begun to mold and press against his posterior for far too long. Carefully climbing down the ladder while Jan hopped without worry nor issue, he noted the direction of the church. The likelihood of getting an audience there today was slim, given the amount of refugees, but tomorrow would come.
Provided he made it through the night.
He walked off back to the old house, hoping his roommate had not grown hungry.
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The nights were where she thrived, and yet were painfully dull.
The human had made the suggestion that she kill something to feed him with. She didn’t like it. The blood wasn’t as good. But, so long as she would have his, it would do. It had to.
The hunger was definitely lesser than before. After eating the piece, the hunger was definitely lesser. Why? Unknown. It slept, which left her with nothing to do. Without the hunger, her mind……wandered. Where was she? Don’t know. Why was she hunting? To feed to human. Why? So he feeds her. Why not get other humans? They could hurt her. Could they hurt her? Unknown. Why feed the hunger? Because it hurts. What now when the hunger doesn’t hurt? Why? How? When? Who?
Who was she?
She stopped. The scent of a rabbit grew dimmer as it likely fled. IT was small, not enough blood. The questions tore at her. Foreign. Unnatural. She never had these.
Did she?
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How?
Why couldn’t she? Why couldn't she have remembered having these?
Remember.
Return.
She had to return.
Why?
She did not know.
The questions kept rattling, the collisions of queries near audible in the silent forest. Fangs crunched into fangs. Sounds grating broke the silence. She stomped out of the forest. Blood here not good enough. Find what worked. What didn’t need questions.
She found the woodline, where she had stalked before. It was the same. But she was different. Could they hurt her? They could.
But not if she drank them first. They could hurt her. But she was faster. They could not hurt her fast enough. Not hard enough.
She could drink, and drink, and drink. Eat the flesh, drink the blood. Familiar. Welcome. Instinct. Right. Survive. Always.
First thing. The one that gets lost. Quiet meals. Less hurting.
She watched and sniffed. A foul smell could be found, various places in the town. The blood was mixed, impurities tainted it. It would have to do. The impure ones were easy pickings. She smiled, senses and impulses flaring her nostrils. A talent honed was a talent known.
A human wandered out of a building. They looked similar, but hers smelled different. Better. Far more pure. She had a sense for his blood; it was hers to claim. But this one was less pure. But easy enough.
She stepped, lightening her feet, the worn boots against dirt were subtle. The human turned around flaccidly. His eyes caught hers.
“Hey, *hic*, Stela. You, you-” The human limply placed a hand on her shoulder. He held a thing in his other hand, she knew not the name, but it smelled like impurity. “You can have some, *hic* if you want some. I got plenty to share.”
She grinned, the fangs sharpening as the lips parted. Why refuse a fine invitation? The bite was fast, as she drained from his neck as quick as she could. Her hand grabbed his throat, silence was correct, it would mean less hurt. The human’s object was swung onto her head. A sound was heard; it broke open her skull. The impurities covered her face. But she did not care.
The human swung more, the broken object doing nothing. The ecstasy was small, but even impure blood had it’s uses.
Pain. PAIN. NO. NONONONONONONNONONONONO!!!!!
She felt pain like no other. The broken object had pierced her chest, pieces dangling from the skin. But she felt it. Pieces against her core.
Core.
Protect.
Life.
Hers.
Must. Protect.
She threw the human off. Vision blurred. Her arm outstretched, she dug into her chest, ripping off skin. The skin fell off, fading into red dust, revealing the facsimile. Blood pooled, as the wound showed more, a swirling miasma, with a red core inside. Pieces of the object touched upon the core.
Heart.
That was the word.
Protect the heart. The most important lesson.
She knew not how or why, but her objective was clear. She yanked on the pieces, ripping them off. They fell onto the dirt, pieces of moonlight reflecting off of them.
She looked to spot her prey. He was gone. The scent lost amongst all the rest.
She walked back into the forest, the risk too high for right now. Walking, walking, and walking again. She had returned to the house, picking up some animals to drain along the wat, a measly reprisal from a near-fatal failure.
The human still slept. He grew stronger. She would soon feed. The hunger had not yet returned. But it would always exist. It was always there, ever roaring, ever needing.
The time would come. A time that should never come.
She placed her hands upon her chest, the blood still stained the pale skin red.
That went terribly. It must never happen again.
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Heat rained down from the vacant clouds, the sun bearing its gifts on Raphael’s skin. For a while, he thought he would be cooked like fresh game, though perhaps that was from all the meat the vampire managed to capture for him. He was thankfully not hungry, though considering the vampire’s continued presence in his life, his own hunger wasn’t the concern.
Refugees surrounded him, in prayer or anguish, sometimes both. They sat around the church here in Răscruce, awaiting a priest, an angel, or a message. Again, perhaps all of them. Pushing past them as respectfully as he could, he entered into the church. No service was taking place, only whatever comforts could be offered in trying times. Confusion filled the air, as faith both grew and diminished amidst the hopeless.
Holding his breath would do no good. Raphael entered, looking around for a familiar face. Within the cacophony of the miserable, no acquaintance was immediately visible. Fingers twitched. An awkward chill ran up his spine. Lest he stand out among the lake of misery, his own fears kept away from sight, he did not wish to reveal his woes now.
Raphael shook his head. Confidence was a fine facade when finding it lacking. Recognizing the rooms likely to the left and right as side areas, he ventured there. Carefully opening a door, he spotted two older men, likely priests within this church.
“Ah, pardon the intrusion, Fathers. I appear to have been mistaken. By any chance, would either of you be aware of a Sister Clara, who came from Zori? I wished to speak with her if possible.” Raphael spoke; practiced tone and cadence made for ease of speech.
“No worries, my son. She is attending to those who seek guidance outside of her own volition, and should return shortly. And you are?” The older of the two priests spoke with experience. Raphael noted his introduction yielded no distrust nor intrigue, thus spoke, “My name is-
“Raphael.” He turned to see Sister Clara behind him, a look of surprise awash her visage. “You’re alive.”
“Apparently so. I was wondering the same about you. I am glad to see we both made it safely.”
The younger of the two priests spoke his turn now, “If you don’t mind, we have some things to discuss….”
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“The monster, that, thing…How are you here?” Sister Clara asked quietly.
“To be frank, I am not sure myself. If you don’t mind, shall we discuss elsewhere.” The cries and woes that filled the church were by no means cacophonous enough to drown out conversation. Sister Clara nodded.
“Follow me then.” She led him outside, towards the church cemetery. A solemn place, but quiet. Rest and stillness were pleasant and plentiful. Raphael stood, while Clara sat on the grass, a heavy sigh escaping her lips.
“The last I saw you, that, that monster had you in its grasp. How are you here? Did an angel save you?” Her faith posited a potential miracle.
Raphael held no such sentiments. “I do not understand it myself. But, I had managed to, erm, convince it, to spare me. If it had some of my blood, it would not attack anyone else.” He revealed some of the bandages from under his coat, they needed changing, and the urge to pull them remained ever-present.
“And….” Clara stared, the disbelief worn on her face like the sun’s rays above, “Is it gone?”
Raphael gulped, the sound muffled consciously. “I, I don’t believe so, no. I had managed to make it to Răscruce, but I was saved and nursed to health. The vampire disappeared afterwards.” Truth. Albeit with omission. Such details could wait for now.
Clara felt haunted. The presence of gravestones had not done so before, but now the chill crept along her spine. She had seen the monster. Heard the screams. Felt the heat of fire against her, and the coldness of death envelop her. That thing, the eye of unnatural blue, did not fade from her mind.
Raphael spoke, cutting past the resurfacing memories. “Truthfully, I was hoping to ask for aid in that department. I know nothing about such creatures, only heard a story or two in a tavern or around a campfire. If you know anything about them, I humbly ask you to share whatever you may know.”
The request seemed innocuous enough. But there wasn’t much of an answer to give. Clara sighed. “To be honest, the most I know comes purely from rumors and superstitions. But, seeing that monster myself, I’m inclined to believe it’s real. But I pray to God it isn’t.”
Raphael waited for further clarification. “All I know are some basic warnings for vampires. Stay in the light, let no one into your home you do not know, check to see if strangers are indeed human, and ward them off with a cross or prayer.” Sister Clara sighed. “But, seeing what that thing has done, I fear those might not do it.”
Given the possibilities inferred from previous events, Sister Clara was possibly made aware of the vampire in the confusion at Zori before she encountered Raphael in the forest. Given Sister Clara was most likely at the church, then the vampire also likely attacked it. Apparently, the power of Christ meant nothing to such a beast.
Raphael spoke again, “Would there be anything else that comes to mind?”
Clara sighed again, his insistence on information was not unwise or untoward. But stress weighed upon her mind, as she had little to recall. “I remember some word of people checking for vampires, exhuming the bodies of the recently deceased. If the body was still there, which it most likely was, then they would pierce the heart for good measure to ensure the dead remained as such”. Clara placed her hands together. “May the Lord forgive me, but I have doubts towards such methods.”
She appeared distraught. Raphael could not blame her. The stress of aiding those with heavy minds and hearts would take a toll on anyone. The increasing number of which only exacerbated it.
Lifting her head, she spoke once more. “But, among the stories I have heard here, one does stick out to me. I have prayed for it to merely be hearsay or happenstance. But I cannot forget it.
Raphael noted her tone. She already spoke with a terror around her throat, but this went deeper. Either her fear had reached the tipping point, or the rumors of which she speaks necessitated such gravity.
“A few people mentioned stories they had heard in their youth. A monster that destroyed everything in its path, without mercy and leaving nothing but destruction. It commanding legions of monsters, and hordes of other vampires. A spawn of the Devil himself.” Clara felt the words escape her mouth, they longed to be released, thought she dare not utter such proclamations.
To invoke the name of the evil that despised God, for a nun to say such things, was a solemn sight indeed. Raphael said nothing. Sister Clara finished her words, “A vampire called the Night Queen, with a blackened heart an unquenchable desire for destruction.”
Raphael said nothing. Sister Clara was likely already stressed from everything she had to deal with in these last couple weeks. But the description lingered in his mind, that was certain. Wanton destruction in its wake, and avatar of evil walking the earth.
And yet, Raphael still lived.
He placed his hand on her shoulder. His smile was small while he locked eyes with her. “If such a creature is truly involved, then something must be done. I am going to try and spread the word about such a thing, can I ask for you to do the same?” His voice was measured. Compassion was a virtue, and a key to manipulation. For good or ill, it could get him what he wanted.
Clara swallowed, the lump in her throat lessened with the question easing the pain. “I can try. I am certain of it.” She wiped her brow, the sweat fleeing her skin. “Truly, I must thank you. May the Archangel Michael protect you.
Raphael simply kept his smile. She meant well, but such faith did nothing for him. His life was not spared by all such ilk, merely twisted fortune. “And you as well.”
Clara noted the curtness. Though his words were eloquent, the indication of a man who dared not speak dishonestly. “Do, you, not share faith the Lord?” Such a man, to protect another, to sacrifice oneself, surely, he must follow the teachings of Christ.
Raphael sighed. “If I said I didn’t, would you turn me away?”
He looked disheartened. Clara had seen many a solemn face, but in her life, and many more since that terrible night. Such a face was well worn; on Raphael it was apparent. “Do you not feel the presence of the Lord with you, his goodness in all things holy?”
He did not say much. “No. No, I do not.” Such a contradiction was unheard of. A good man, who hears not the voice of God. Worse, may he have renounced Him? But. She lived from his sacrifice. He aimed to be rid of the vampire, to undertake a holy task. Is he not righteous?
“Then what do you believe in?” Surely, a man such as he cannot live without virtue, without light to guide him. Goodness must come from without.
Raphael simply replied, “I suppose, I wish to believe in people.” He collected himself, standing up straighter, “I hope so.”
He then looked out towards the edge of the town. “Regardless I thank you for the assistance,” As he turned, spotting the sun setting. The domain of the monster approached, the sanctuary of the sun faded with every minute. Each day grew closer to a conclusion he could bear not to see. “But I will get going now. I hope to see you soon.”
Clara stood up, the weight of knowledge waning her responsiveness. “Will, will you be safe? Will you, destroy that monster?” She held her rosary, a silent prayer beckoned for the man that saved her life.
Raphael stopped for a moment. The road to Bucharest was merely a left turn away. Ahead of him lie the path to the derelict house, the trap awaiting his return. The forest around it, an abode for more monsters to emerge, with no one else the wiser. He is but a single man, not one who could stand against horrors. A selfish man, one who did not deserve praise or expectations. One whose life hanged in a bargain he held no power in. Could he try, should he try? What to change, alter, shape in favor?
With shaking legs, he walked onward towards his temporary abode, not saying anything to Sister Clara. Questions remained unanswered.
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Failure. Not good. Drink more. Yes. Success.
The vampire made her way around to another part of the town. The last human had a weapon. She did not plan for a weak one to strike her. Find more weak ones. Weak ones that won’t attack.
The moonlight shone upon the roads, even her place in the forest would be visible. She hunched, then leapt onto a tree. Claws dug into bark, hands extending, arms contracting, moving her up within seconds. She landed and crouched onto a branch. It shook. It was thin. She saw out towards the buildings.
Blood. Humans. They had it. She wanted it. The human would be ready soon. She did not want to wait. She was not hungry. But she wanted more. More. More. More.
A building’s door swung open. A human walked out. Female. Clothing barely on. Shaking. Shivering. The face had a look. Frustrated. Angry? Such things were familiar. Weak. A perfect target.
The vampire tightened her legs. The female wasn’t far. She could make it. Muscles coiled. Eyes dilated. Fangs sharpened. Anticipation shook even greater, the tension awaiting rapid release. Soon. SoOn. SOON.
NOW.
Her legs unfurled the energy from the branch, the energy discharged to propel her forward, sending equal force backwards onto the branch.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjQlo1gKqX7
*CRACK*
The view had changed. The human appeared to not be getting closer, if anything, the female appeared to be rising.
There was a crack and a thump. Iulia had managed to vacate from those ruffians thankfully, dignity notwithstanding. But she noticed the sound from the woodline. No animal she had ever heard of made such a sound. Perhaps a baby bear tried to climb a tree. A dangerous thing, but better for it to fall prone than to attack her.
And yet, her blood ran cold. Her gaze remained fixed towards the trees, the dark canopies covering the sights within. The darkness was a sharp barrier between what was and wasn’t seen.
But a single color could be seen in the darkness. Blue. A single point that glowed within the shrouded veil. It was deeper, yet brighter than anything she had seen before. It appeared to be moving, up and down, and yet, slowly growing in size.
Not growing, approaching. A pale tone surrounded the blue glow as it emerged by the dark, a face, wicked and evil. A jaw contorted and widened, with sharpened teeth aligned along its width, coated in viscous crimson. Mangled dark hair covered the creature’s head, with the creature’s right half covered. For a moment, from behind that curtain, Iulia could swear she saw a glow of red.
The creature had appeared before her, the wind moving as it approached rapidly. She stepped back, the cold weighed down her feet. Sharpened nails tore at her arm.
Iulia cried out, the pain could not be held back. The creature tightened its grip around the wound, and chomped onto it. She could not help but yell, but her throat was tightened. The monster had taken its other hand and tightened it around her throat. Her blood fled her arm while her lungs remained absent of air. Choking, she tried to pull on the creature’s fingers. With all her might, with anything she could muster, her force could nary lift a single finger form this monster’s grip. The darkness of night began to give away to a violent slumber, as the vision clouded over into blackness.
A crack could be heard. She smelt alcohol, right in front of her. Her vision returned, the air returning to her lungs immediately. She fell onto the ground, as she looked up to see the creature standing above her. It was covered in liquid; the smell must have been a hard liquor.
“Who the fuck, *hic* are you. She’s mine, unless you want some from ol’ Bodgan” The drunken wretch was a foul, lecherous scumbag. An unlikely and unwitting savior to be sure. The creature appeared to sniff herself, while Iulia back away. Bodgan lazily grabbed a lamp, swinging it around as he drunkenly stumbled forwards.
Iulia stood up, while the creature backed off, it turned to look at her, as whatever resolve she had mustered vanished in that instant. Her creature appeared to growl, before running off, returning to the darkness from whence it came.
“Ahh, who *hic” fucking needs you? Iulia, whe-where are you?” Iulia had left, leaving Bodgan alone, fleeing towards wherever the light could protect her.
Another failure. Another waste. She was covered in the awful smell. She knew. It made humans weak. They were weak. But she knew. She knew that she knew. She knew not how she knew. The potion of weakness could catch fire. If she were to catch fire, it would hurt.
Hurt.
Not hurt.
Did not want to hurt.
Another waste. She walked and waited more. Her tongue hurt the most. Her jaw clenched when she hit the ground, her fangs piercing her own flesh. Her own drawn blood filled her mouth, moreso than the human’s blood. How disappointing.
She gathered pieces of debris, and wiped away the smell. It would have to do, so the humans wouldn’t smell her. And so, she would not have to smell it. Tree bad. Weak branch bad. Do not jump off weak branch. Not again. Did not work. Find what works. Think? Think. Think what works.
Try again. Keep hunting. More food for human. More blood for her. There would be blood.
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“I know it sounds absurd. But I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
“Yeah, and I got eyeballs on the back of my head. Nothing ever gets past me”. The gruff man sarcastically retorted. His younger associate turned his head; his feigned ignorance only highlighted his apparent apathy.
Raphael sighed. Ten times today, ten times of failure perhaps eleven would be his lucky number. But luck was hard to come by here.
He was no fool. He had no evidence, no corpse to show off a beast felled in battle, no witnesses to stand beside him, no reasoning for what caused such occurrences. Purely a tale that could spur imaginations, but no more. That and a torn-up section of forest, but there wasn’t a chance of anyone wanting to follow a foreigner telling tall tales into the woods.
Raphael understood his position. He appeared as a blithering fool to the people of Răscruce. But that was no reason not to try.
“Even so, I will implore you. Please whenever you can, see for yourselves the site where it happened. But only during the day, it is much safer then.” The last thing Raphael wanted was giving the vampire even more opportunities to grow stronger and harm others. His conscience was already buckling from its current load.
“Welp, we got work to do during the day, if you hadn’t noticed already.” Raphael had noticed, but said nothing. It was better to not interrupt him right now. “So, I ain’t gonna do nothing right now. Emil on the other hand could go, no problem.”
“Up yours, Anton.” The younger man made his thoughts well known, his bushy black hair, brushed aside as it dangled from his head.
“Hmm. I wonder if dear ol’ Tasha knows where that rabbit stew she was making went. Such a shame, yeah, a real shame.” The older man scratched his chin, while the younger stamped his foot in the ground in defeat.
Raphael noted the dynamic. He said nothing, as Emil turned away in frustration.
Anton spoke once more towards the foreign man. “Wouldja swear on the Bible?”
“I would solemnly swear, so help me God.” Whatever it took to show his earnestness to these people, he would do. Regardless of his distaste. Raphael noted Anton’s visage. The older man quit his scratching.
“Well, we’ll about it then. Now scram, we got work to do.” He kicked dirt towards Raphael’s shoes, worn from his walking and talking. He noted the abrupt end to the conversation, but left with his last word.
“I thank you nonetheless.” He withheld the urge to bow, and walked off. Heading to behind a townhouse, he sat on the dirt. His throat parched, his legs tired, his mind sore and drained. Eleven times, eleven attempts, only half a success at best. And the last one was the best one yet.
He placed his head in his hands. This was too slow. Too inefficient. Each day he recovered, each day the vampire would feast again. How much longer until then? How much longer until its insatiable hunger returned? Each struggle to find aid was fruitless and barren. Desolate hopes grew bleaker.
Raphael laughed weakly, was such a thing even possible?
It didn’t matter.
Do or die. Not the words of defeat. A warrior’s creed.
He laughed again. He was no warrior. Such fantasies were reserved for those who did not see death. But even so.
Raphael stood back up. The sun would set soon. He would have to return, lest the monster be prone to escape its lair. He was the bait, the chain to keep it restrained. He couldn’t bear the burden, but even less the alternative.
Wandering the streets of Răscruce, Raphael noted more people than before. Faces of despair and confusion continued to flood his vision. The only solace was that he shared their countenance, despite differing contexts. Or perhaps not. If what he thought was true was the case, there are worse things out there awaiting more destruction.
Rumors circled his ears. The information swam in his head. A deluge of data to sift through as he walked.
“A demon. I saw it with my own eyes! The town was completely taken over.”
“Let us pray for mercy. This is a trial from Heaven above.”
“You’re just going to get yourself killed.”
Finer details were scant. But a pattern existed. Different people from different places. Converged and convinced in one large town. Was this land a crossroads, or a cage?
Raphael recounted his first attempts. He found some of the people from Zori, asking for their aid and testimonies. Sadly, the false rumors of his involvement in the town’s destruction prevented any cooperation. He would have to thank Sister Clara once again in preventing such rumors from spreading further. But it still wasn’t enough.
“What in the blazes were you thinking then?” An older voice cut through Raphael’s contemplation. A sharp beratement meant someone was due for a reckoning. He noted an older man taking considerable umbrage with someone. That someone being a familiar Jan, who was making his case.
“You can use the new space for even more food storage, there’s already a ladder and I even added some pulleys to make it easier for you.” Jan spoke with confidence and assuredness. Raphael spotted the project of debate. A food storage shed, likely for both winter months and for the occasional produce, now renovated. Or perhaps more accurately heavily modified. The structure of the original was visible, but it lay beneath layers of wood placed on and around it. While it looked expertly done, it was large, ostentatious, and probably weighed more than the shed itself. Raphael could not but wonder how many trees have to have gone into such a ludicrous project.
“On a shed that’s prone to collapsing, and using all that time and wood on it! We didn’t need a darn refurbishing; we just wanted the holes fixed!" The old man berated Jan, the aloof man giving his best smile. Raphael noted a facade of assurance.
“Well, it’s better than it was before, I can guarantee it, and it looks much nicer too.” He replied, likely with some attempt at appeasement.
“That much weight on a roof and it’ll kill anyone who so much as touches it!” The older man pointed out.
“Then don’t touch the roof, I can always repair it later.” Jan made his case nonchalantly. The old man’s brow furrowed. Any harder he might have torn the skin from his forehead.
“Damn buffoon, you aren’t a magician, not a miracle maker. You cannot wave your hands and fix things so simply. Lord, please grant me strength.” The older man turned away from Jan.
Raphael noted the tense conversation, with Jan standing alone, cursing under his breath. The cursing was, and he approached nonetheless, “I am guessing things did not work out the way you wanted?”
“Apparently not. Old bastard has no idea the work I put in. Ungrateful, that’s what they are.” Jan crossed his arms. “I swear, I could do more work in half the time and they would still find ways to complain.”
Raphael took another glance at the gaudy construction. While technically sound for its proposed purpose, it resembled a house of cards. A simple nudge would collapse it. Was he not aware of it, or did he refuse to see it?
“Well, at the very least, you should consider that with the amount of work on you, it might be best to work on the basics first. You can always modify things later, am I wrong? It isn’t like you have enough of yourself for everything in town.” Raphael made his suggestion, a proposal of creation to be postponed, not aborted.
Jan lifted his head. “You’re right. I can find some other stuff. Might be good to take a detour.” It was hard to tell whether he took anything Raphael said to heart. Well, better to assume the best for right now.
“By the way, I do have some good news for you. I managed to convince my father to gather the other elders to hear you out with your, shall we say, prognostications.” Raphael noted the sudden shift of vernacular, likely done to seem more impressive. Jan was well read at the very least, a far cry from being just a simple carpenter.
“I must thank you nonetheless. What time would you estimate this meeting to take place, and where?”
“Ehh, should be tomorrow night at the church. Had to get some of the robefolk in on it thanks to the, juicier details”. It was at least in a familiar place. Nevertheless, good fortune had graced him despite the multitude of failures that occurred today alone.
“I must thank you once again. Hopefully this will do some good against such monsters.” Jan noted the foreign man’s gratitude. Given how he heard people mocking Raphael behind his back, the thanks was likely genuine.
Of course he would have earned such recognition, not anyone can get such meetings. Though, believing his story was one thing. But he never joked or lied. So, what was out there?
Jan turned and walked off. Raphael could sense more weight in his steps as he left. Some newfound focus or drive pushed him forwards. To what end, he did not know.
Raphael made his own exit, his captor kept placated by the promise of his blood. Hopefully soon such a nightmare would be behind him. Hopefully.
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Twitching, thrashing, violently seeking release. Both she and her prey shared such senses, but for very different reasons. The deer breathed its last, as the vampire savored the meal. It is not as satisfying. It irked her so. The hunger had not yet returned, but she must feed. She would feed. There was only the urge to feed.
Her attempts within the town were utter failures. The human kept a stern gaze. He was her cattle, yet he spoke his ideas into her mind, getting her to agree. How did he do it? Did humans have some power she did not know?
Was that why she savored their blood. Was it why she remained ever wary? Was it? Why? Why is it? Why did she not know?
Questions.
Questions.
QUESTIONS.
Her fist impacted a tree, the branches shaking as the bark exploded off the trunk. Why was she angry? She did not know. Why did she hate the questions? She did not know.
She yelled, with no one else to hear it. Her screech went unanswered, as though it did not exist. Her shoulders slumped. She was upset.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSKxDLMyn61
Why?
Why?
Forget why.
Forget why?
Forget.
Remember.
Something to remember.
Something to return.
Return to her.
To return.
More blood.
She must remember to return more blood to her.
The human needed to feed for her to feed. She would get more food for him. Soon. Very soon.
She grabbed the carcass; it would have its uses like the rest. She sniffed the air. Another was not too far. She swiftly retreated to the house, and tossed the carcass into a fresh pile. The human would eat well, and so would she. The moonlit forest heard her dash; the dirt pounded with every step.
She returned to the forest. She had to go further and further, she had gathered so much already, the prey became harder and harder to find. They ran fast; she could be fast. They could hide; she could hide and wait. Finding them was hard.
Why was it hard? She could sense things from so far away, discern prey from entire hordes of humans.
She could.
Could she?
She sniffed the air again. Only a single thing of prey was present. Animal. Not human. Not as good. Good enough for the human.
Could she do what she thought?
She recalled doing so.
When?
How?
Why?
Why not now?
Thoughts swam in her head, a murky reflection offering no clarity. She thought of ponds with fish, that seemed similar.
What was she thinking?
Thinking?
Not hunting.
If not hunting, then what?
Questions.
More questions.
Confusing.
She growled, biting her lip. Hunt, more food. Now.
She ran and ran. Further and further to find the prey. The scent faded faster and faster. She kept going, the scent nearly gone.
No.
She would have it.
Hers.
Hers.
Mine.
MiNe.
MINE.
She felt a scent incoming, the proximity shrinking with every kick of her feet against the earth.
Closer.
Nearer.
Warmer.
Immediacy took center stage. She coiled her fibers in her leg. She was on the ground, not a branch, it would not give way beneath her again. She had this. The scent was behind a large bush. It could not see her, surprise was hers to wield.
The vampire lifted herself off the ground, a sudden burst of power propelling her. She could taste her victory, as she flew right towards it.
A loud sound could be heard. It was incredibly fast, faster than he had ever heard. It was certainly no deer, too fast to be a bear. It was close. Very close. Too close for comfort, that’s for sure. The sound came from behind a large bush. Whatever it was, it likely couldn’t see him. Better play it safe, as he dove to the ground just in front of the floral screen. The wind brushed over him, as something whizzed by.
A large impact could be heard. He inhaled, finding no pain in himself. That was good. He looked to his left, spotting a large tree parallel to the bush, now sporting a large series of cracks and crenels within the bark. Underneath, laying haphazardly on the ground, appeared to be a woman.
She blinked her eyes. The right one always obscured, but it did not hinder her sight. The other always saw, barely different from the other. Her vision returned, seeing the strangest thing. A human man was there. Not her human. She knew her human. His scent anyways. This one’s scent was only now evident; it was mixed with other forest scents. The faces were all the same. This one however was upside down. As was his head, it was down, while his feet were above, pointing up, where the ground was.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuvHhQ14Ilg
Something seemed off.
“Are you okay? You sounded like you were running from hell itself.” The human spoke. He seemed strange, like her human. They were more talkative than the rest. The rest mostly screamed or stayed silent.
This was certainly a strange woman. Disheveled hair, older woman, ragged clothes with what looks like soot stains, covered in what looked like dried blood. He’d never seen anyone like her in Răscruce before.
“Name’s Jan. Hopefully you didn’t knock your head open. Who’re you?” He spoke confidently, offering a hand, but never getting closer to her himself. Her skin was pale, was she a foreigner like Raphael? Maybe not from the same place, but definitely not from here.
This woman gave him the chills. No clue why, there was something off about her.
There was something off about this human. Definitely too talkative. Most humans would be yelling already. She felt around with her hands, searching for the ground, then pushing herself off. Her head pulsed, pain finally making its unwelcome intrusion. She stood up, raggedly but successfully.
The man was in front of her, though he kept his distance. She could drink him. There was no one else around to stop her.
Past failures resurfaced. Hasty actions had failed her before. Her face still twinged from the unexpected wooden kiss. Wait? She would wait. It was already unbearable. But she would wait.
What to do while waiting? Nothing came to mind. Sitting. Not good. Human was in front of her. Any prey would make themselves scarce in due time.
What to do? Nothing much came to mind. She could walk. Human was here. Last time she was in the woods, her human talked. Asked questions. She didn’t like the questions. She didn’t know why. But.
What if she asked the questions? Less for her to think. Gain info-, infam-, infirma-.
Information.
Useful. Her human liked it. He was useful.
She would get it.
It would be VERY useful.
Jan watched the weird woman with her visible eye slightly glazed. The color was entrancing. Blue, bolder and brighter than he had ever seen. Beautiful, seemed like a waste on an oddity of a person. His question remained unanswered, but perhaps for the best. He put his foot behind him, then another, making steps to retreat from the stiff air that surrounded him.
“I am, hungry. What are you?” The woman spoke. Her accent seemed native, yet, not at all. Older, mixed, hard to tell. Kind of like her.
“Umm, well Mrs. Hungry, I am Jan Nemes, a measly carpenter in Răscruce. I don’t suppose you live out here.” Conversation worked better on lighter moods. An opening slice to ease tension, humility to ease the other person’s approach. The strange woman stared at him; her features were striking. Perturbing even.
“No. Where do you live?” The question seemed unorthodox, or perhaps poorly though out. It was hopefully not meant to be rude, but perhaps she merely suffered from madness.
“I told you, I live in Răscruce.” The woman cocked her head, almost like a hound. Was it curiosity, or stupidity?
Răscruce. What was that? It was "crossroads", correct?
“But, humans don’t live on roads, they live in houses.” Most of them anyways.
“How very astute of you. I would say my house is fine, nothing grand like a castle, but it is bigger than most”. Ugh. What was with this woman? How is something so obvious something worth repeating? Was she a vagrant? It might explain the clothes and lack of understanding, but not what she was doing here specifically
Aside from that, her distant stare was off-putting, she wasn’t looking at his face, looking below it somewhere. Was she looking at his chest? It was certainly fine; he’s heard the whispering among some of the women in town. Who could blame them?
His neck was wide open, but it could wait for now. Hopefully. Probably not. But perhaps….
“You live in big house?” She asked. Humans were more important the bigger their house was, they dressed funny and looked weird, but they were treated as important. He must be important.
“Oh yes. Very important. Very impressive. I do lots of work in town, getting praised for my ideas.” The human spoke highly of himself. He must be very important somehow.
Important humans. Not important humans.
They all were the same.
More to drink, more to eat.
Important ones had more humans to call.
They fought for the important ones.
Made hunting harder.
They all tasted the same, all offered the same thing in the end.
But-
Too much trouble.
He was alone here.
But humans can find out if one goes missing.
Then they hunt her.
They try anyway.
She has failed before.
If she fails again, her plan may fail.
If she fails again, her human may run.
NO.
NO.
He was hers. He would feed her. She needs him.
No. Don’t eat this one.
But, if not eat. Then what?
New questions arose.
Then what?
What happens next?
Next?
Future.
Future?
What is the future?
Unknown.
Too unknown.
Too hard to think.
Do not think.
Plan.
Make future.
Humans plan and make future.
They make houses. They make food.
She would make food.
She could get more food makers.
“You are very important.” Another question arose. Important humans stayed where it was safe if they could. “Why out here then?”
The human spoke, his words taking more time than previously. “Well, you can say I was searching for something. Wasn’t sure if it was here.”
Humans lose lots of things. Their bodies. Their appearances. Their lives. Their stuff. Guess this one lost his stuff. No matter, it was his stuff. She would search for her own stuff.
Her body.
Her appearance.
Her life.
She had no clue where hers was. Instinct remained. To feed. To grow stronger. She would wait.
Yes, wait.
“Find your stuff then.” There was no clue as to how a human would lose his stuff out here. Maybe he was dumb.
“I’ll see to it then.” Maybe she was dumb. Pulling fibs out of his ass was one thing, but that impact seemed to have knocked her senses away hard enough to not question him further. Jan was not one to pray for other’s misfortunes, he would say to others. But in this case, he was ever grateful for it.
“Do you know lots of humans?” The woman asked him. An odd question, was it rhetorical? Of course he would. Any person would, him especially. Lots of people know him.
“I mean, obviously. People stick together after all. But yeah, I’m quite well known in town, as a matter of fact.” Hopefully that would resolve the strange question. The woman’s face was still hard to read. Jan imagined her head was like gears turning by a water wheel, slowly grinding towards some conclusion.
He knew lots of humans. He?
This human.
Jan
He was called Jan.
What does that mean?
Whatever. Not important. He is important. What he is called isn’t.
What was her human called again?
Did he tell her?
She couldn’t remember.
Right, remember her goal.
“You show me, lots of humans?”
“Uhhhh, sure. Yeah, I suppose.” This woman was getting creepier by the second. The mannerisms and speech made no sense to him, the impression of her being a foreigner was no longer holding water.
Jan felt a spark ignite in his mind. “Well, I can’t actually do so right now. I’m very busy you see, gotta find my things here in the woods, can’t do much else until I find them.”
The woman’s stare continued. Jan swore he felt a drill slowly turning into his skull. “When will you find it?” Truly a foolish question. He gritted his teeth, giving a wide smile.
“Can’t say I know when. Maybe in a week or two, who knows, maybe even more.” Hopefully this would get her off his case. He had things to find and little time to do so.
“When you find it, you show me more humans. Alone.” The words held a dry tone, yet, they dripped over his skin. Jan found himself flustered, despite his way with words. She held something over him. A threat? A command? No. It was fear, plain and simple.
“Well, I’ll see what happens when it happens. Hope to see you then.” He grinned as he spoke, leaving his hands by his sides and his muscles loosened, despite every urge to do otherwise.
The woman’s stare continued, only now blinking, as the dread washed away. She simply looked, before turning and heading elsewhere, running as fast as she arrived.
Jan’s buttocks landed straight to the ground. There was no way that should have worked. Well, for anyone else anyways. But he hadn’t failed before, he wasn’t going to now.
Patting himself off as he stood, he noted to get more material to mask his scent, didn’t want to run into any predators out here. That would be dangerous, even he couldn’t survive those.
But that may yet change. He ventured deeper, his elusive prize yet to be found, and hopefully the weird woman to never be found again.
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Raphael approached the church with trepidation. Nothing had changed in his approach. He had no evidence, as sad of a scenario that was. Only his word and a destroyed battle ground. He went and checked it himself in the morning. The signs of destruction were still evident; not even nature could recover quickly from such demolition.
The church grew ever closer. He knew nothing about the people Jan had somehow managed to acquire to hear him out. The only certainty was the location, and supposedly the presence or involvement of Jan’s father. Aside from that, a complete unknown.
He sighed. Dismay sunk into his bones. Was this better or worse than returning to the impromptu lair of a vampire? Considering being eaten alive, or put in jail or maybe executed, neither was pleasant.
Apprehension jostled his stomach, butterflies trying to escape. He pat his chest to ease his worry. Though perhaps that was just all the meat he’s been having thanks to the vampire’s hunting. It was certainly very effective in finding prey, though a change in diet would be nice. Though he had no grounds to complain. Food was food. It’s not like he wasn’t used to a hunter’s diet.
The church was soon upon him. Raphael cursed himself for getting distracted. He would have to talk and push and plead to whatever ends to get aid. The things he’s seen could not be ignored. The creature that held him hostage….
Betray or not betray? That is the question. Would it be wiser to remain a captor, a sacrificial lamb for a beast unknown to others, to offer himself for lives that would forsake or forget him? Or would it be better to surrender himself to eternal sleep? To not suffer the agony of failures and fear, to never worry about the despair that haunts him so?
Raphael slapped himself. Focus was needed right now. Action had to be performed, not a soliloquy. Whatever choice he makes, he must do everything he can, only then can he earn his rest.
Stepping upon the stone of the church, he stepped aside to make room for some vacating worshippers. Tears and dismay painted their faces. How he wished to wash it away. The chapel remained full of sorrows, but they were at best tangential. He searched for a priest or anyone who might offer aid.
Clara noted the familiar man, her prayers having not found their answer. She approached and spoke softly. “Father Gheorghe said he would speak with you privately. Please follow me.”
The foreign man politely obliged. He did not speak, his eyes worn and his gaze appeared distant. A mind frayed behind an amiable visage. She approached Father Gheorghe’s door, knocking thrice before speaking.
“Father, Raphael is here to speak.” She said quietly. The church was full, even here. She prayed that whatever discussions that may occur within this room would be quiet but fruitful.
Especially to be rid of that monster that haunted her vision.
A voice gently replied from the other side. “Thank you, Sister Clara. Please see him in and make haste towards the chapel”. She opened the door, spotting Father Gheorghe and two other unfamiliar men. Let Raphael inside, and shut the door. Her place wasn’t to speak. But she prayed all the same, whatever good may vanquish the minions of the devil that lurked beyond the town.
Raphael looked around. Only three other men were present here, and Jan wasn’t one of them. Was he flaking him, or busy? Might be good to ask, might be seen as trying to detour the conversation.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡziybI5KJPH
Still, Sister Clara seemed tired. This ordeal was getting to her. Him as well, but no one could know that. Not yet anyways.
“Please sit, we have much to discuss.” The reverend spoke firmly. His head was shaved, though bits of brown could be spotted trying to resurface with close inspection. His spectacles were well worn by the looks of it, not a common implement, whether a gift or something acquired using church funds, it was hard to tell. Raphael had seen him a couple of times before, likely the head priest here. Though his demeanor was serious, either he’s taking this very seriously or the stress of the refugees is getting to him. Best to not get on his bad side. Or all three of them for that matter.
The man sitting to the left appeared like an older version of Jan. Worn skin and hands that bore the callouses and scars of manual labor. He had an indifferent tone about him as he leaned his chair back, the legs slightly rising off the ground. Father Gheorghe seemed to be consternated about that. Raphael guessed that Nemes Senior was well aware of the chair limitations, but that was only a guess.
The man on the right was more well dressed, an immediate air of importance to some degree. Likely nobility, given the expensive clothing. Not an unfamiliar sight, just not something to be expected. Though, given the circumstances, even nobility ought to be aware of the events unfolding. The man bore a usual painted smile, but it was thin. The worry bled through; the chosen portrait this nobleman presented aged and cracked with every second.
Raphael took a seat, the wooden chair being rather uncomfortable, an irritation that would surely get to him if this lasted too long. Before he could speak, the reverend beat him to it. “I have been told by Jan that this was of vital importance to the town. Do you swear to God on such claims?”
Such seriousness was expected. Despite his misgivings, there was no reason to refuse. “I do, Father.”
“Very well. Please speak freely, we shall see what comes of it.” Gheorghe noted this foreign man. Detestable. Something about looking at him felt wrong. He had heard rumors from the survivors of Zori, seen him asking questions, and could sense this man’s nature. It was, heretical. Gheorghe knew. This man could be a liar, someone who seeks no absolution, only to slither in and whisper lies to corrupt the flock. He shall stay his hand, lest he judge the man prematurely. Surely, should he not sin, then he can be welcomed by God.
“Thank you, Father. I have reason to believe that there is some connecting element between what happened in Zori, and possibly what might be affecting other towns.” Raphael spoke; his words offered a bold claim. How to get him to slip though? What would the Lord do to unveil his intentions?
“And what may that be my child? How would you know of such a thing?” A direct method veiled in curiosity. Truly effective, as Christ would have done.
“When I was at Zori, I had awoken to screams from within the town. I found the town in flames, along with its citizens being attacked by a monstrosity. It bore resemblance to a large pig, approximately the size of a house. And, I do swear, it could speak. Only a few words, but it did speak.”
Gheorghe kept his face firm. Such an absurd tale, and the questions had only started. How hard would it be for anyone to give a straight answer unless they were lying. This man was bold indeed, to commit falsehoods in a temple of God. But the foreign man presented a face of honesty, a most impressive quality for a sinner.
He pressed further, “And what came of the beast? Surely you did not fell it yourself? And how come such things were not mentioned by the refugees in this very church?”
Raphael spoke plainly, “I did engage this monster in combat, though I had to resort to dodging it and leading it into fires to damage it. I barely survived, and I am grateful to be here to say as such.”
Gheorghe pressed further, as the foreign man was about to say more. He could sense it, the wicked ways in which this Raphael skirted the truth. To speak truth, but not fully. He could tell in some way, he must have. He spoke faster than before. “And then how did you make it here to Răscruce? You were not seen amongst the other refugees?”
“I had to flee separately; I wandered the woods until I made it here by chance.” This priest was persistent, as if he had something to prove. How annoying. Still Raphael withheld his tongue. Mentioning Dragomir and Clara’s testimony would be helpful.
But, the mention of the vampire would become inevitable. To betray her was to invite destruction. He swallowed at the thought. What to say, what to do?
…..
Cezar sighed. He had hoped Jan wasn’t rubbing off on this guy with tall tales and embellishments. He could tell Gheorghe and Costea had their own thoughts, but this didn’t concern him in the slightest. Either get to the good stuff or just leave.
But still, this Raphael character was unusual, regardless of Gheorghe’s obvious misgivings. A man his age should have a wife and kids by now, he is clearly well past 20 years of age. Yet, given how he has been traveling as far as he has, he is on some kind of mission of purpose. An ordinary man could not, and would not do that. Regardless, this story still wasn’t worth skipping out some quality ale.
Costea was enthralled. This man was not some ordinary traveler. The other two would not realize it. But he saw the mannerisms. The posture of his legs, the etiquette of his speech. Not a simple traveler, not a low born man. Was he the son of a merchant family? It would explain the higher standards the man possessed despite the shabby appearance. And the story he told, while ridiculous, could make sense. At least in how nearby towns have been bombarding him for aid. Costea patted his sweat away with a handkerchief. He mustn’t show weakness nor enthusiasm. Despite what his face belied.
The nobleman spoke “Then, perchance, may you indulge us in further detail? I presume there is more to the story, as there is no proof of any abominations elsewhere.” A lie on his part, at least partially. He had to listen to the wails of the refugees and downtrodden, they were beneath him but their stories shared commonalities. Either there were beasts, or they were all mad. This Raphael character seemed earnest, but even so, any patrician must be meticulous and not leave things unfinished.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBDVDgdnggj
“Yes sir, there is. I have been managing barely here in town to gather funds to leave safely, I noticed something in the outskirts of the woods. My curiosity got the better of me, and I bore witness to a gigantic toad, or something that appeared as such. It moreso resembled a monstrosity, with multiple tongues and dozens of eyes adorning it’s back.”
Curiosity compelled Costea’s next question. “Well, a toad, however big, should have no interest in trying to harm anyone, correct? They sit in ponds and eat flies.”
Raphael retorted. “Sir, I assure you, I saw the bodies, it had attacked others who were traveling in those woods.”
Cezar now spoke, “What? Did you fight this one too?”
Raphael replied, “Unfortunately yes. Its form and abilities were not just that of an ordinary toad, I saw its tongue pierce through solid stone, akin to a whip with a barbed tip”. Cezar noted the details and particularity. Either this man had an impressive imagination or he bore witness to such absurdities. Still, there was more to the story, so he kept silent.
Gheorghe was happy to take charge once more. “I presume there would be a body, otherwise such a tale sounds like a farce, or perhaps even, blasphemous.” The holy man’s disinclinations were becoming less subtle, but Raphael stayed firm.
“Unfortunately not. This is part of the reason that I deemed this to be an urgent matter. Upon the slaying of both monstrosities, their remains were, how do I say it? They were contorted, twisted and compressed, into these large red crystals. I dared not touch them, for I thought them to be cursed in some capacity.” Raphael put in the emotion here.
Father Gheorghe went to speak, but Raphel beat him to it. “I, believe that these gems, are some sort of cursed object, as, blasphemous as it may sound. The creatures appeared where normal animals ought to, but a pig farm and by a natural pond. Thusly, it stands to reason that perhaps these objects, by means unknown to me, transmogrify animals into monsters, and if there are more of them, they might be the cause of these incidents. I would strongly implore that you please be wary of them and to warn others as well, at the very least to have innocent people keep away from anything of the sort.”
Gheorghe scowled. Such a preposterous notion was ridiculous. The Lord would never allow such a thing to exist, the Devil’s work was in the temptations of man. If such hellions were to exist, then He would guide the way for the believers. This man before him was not to be trusted. But Cezar and Costea, they were of little faith. Logic would have to sway them.
Cezar spoke up. “Yeah, that’s all nice and charming for a story around a fire. You got any proof aside from your word?” A man could feel the world in his hands; words alone can do a lot but what you can see and wield in your hands was paramount. Cezar honed in on this foreign man. He wasn’t much for storytelling, but he had to be more to it yet.
Raphael sighed. “I must shamefully admit that I do not. I can lead the way to where I encountered the toad creature, and perhaps there may still by traces of the porcine creature in Zori. But I will not lie and say I have more than that.” Costea noted the air of honesty. This man appeared to be pouring his heart out, to know he has little to offer and still seek aid. Gheorghe surely must be open to a wandering soul.
Gheorghe’s brow threatened to rip off of his forehead. This man had nothing to offer aside from his word, and to beseech aid whilst affirming to blasphemy. An absurdity at the minimum, a disgrace to God on average. Gheorghe held his tongue, lest he bite it in twain.
Cezar could sense Gheorghe’s anger. He made for a shitty priest, but he was Costea’s brother-in-law, fucking morons. No wonder the church was a joke. “Still, do you have any suggestions there, Raphael? Or are you just the messenger or ill tidings?” He looked at Costea, his attempts at ‘sophisticated language’ purely to mess with the trite nobleman.
Raphael spoke once more. “As far as I am aware, such beings will attack people indiscriminately. Unless I learn more, all I can suggest is for people to stay away from the forest, especially at night.” Gheorghe noted the foreign man’s tone in that; there was something more to it.
“And God forbid should such a creature appear; all I can say is to run as fast as you can.” Costea could feel the tension; Raphael meant every word. He must’ve been living in fear ever since Zori. This poor, noble man, doing such sacrifices and enduring such hardships. Surely Gheorghe could offer even the tiniest relief.
No relief would be given. This Raphael character was suspicious. But he had already made up his mind. Gheorghe calmed himself. Better to show the charlatan for who he is. “That is quite the story, my child. Would you mind indulging in a few more questions?”
Raphael replied, “I do not see the harm.” A neutral expression lay on his face. How long it would last was the question.
Gheorghe clasped his hands together and went first, “If I may ask as to your background, what is a foreign man such as yourself doing here? I know God’s children are free to travel and spread the good word when necessary, but it doesn’t look like that is the case.”
Cezar kept watch over Gheorghe and Raphael while he thought of his own questions. Raphael responded to the priest, “I am traveling to Bucharest alone. I seek to learn from Traian Cernea, a doctor in the city and my teacher’s associate.”
This foreign man was studying medicine? Gheorghe would have a row with this Raphael character already, but anything even slightly out of the church’s teachings would make him see red. Cezar immediately interjected, “So, what country did you say you hailed from? And to be sure, have you been aiding my son in his work for pay?”
Raphael replied simply, “My home country is France, and yes, I have been helping Jan on his work. I am planning to save enough coin to continue my journey.”
Costea wiped away a tear. This man was both noble and pragmatic. Truly, a man of quality. But even so, he wished to know more. “It would take too much to make such a journey. Have you need for more coin, or are you staying here in Răscruce to keep spreading the word of the abominations?”
Raphael spoke, “Truthfully, I would say both reasonings are applicable.” His words held true. But something lied beyond them. Unspoken words were tantamount to lying.
Gheorghe knew. There had to be more. He shall follow in King Soloman’s footsteps, to find the correct path towards judging this sinner. “Then, shall we inquire about your story prior to arriving in Zori? Though you say this incident started in Zori on that dreadful night, perhaps there may be more evidence that was present prior? I am sure my fellows are wondering the same.”
Cezar gritted his teeth. This priest was a narcissistic prick. Sure, he wasn’t wrong, but he ought to know when to not speak for others. He resembled Jan a bit too much, however frustrating it may be. “Yeah, what he said.”
Costea nodded his head. “Certainly. Anything and everything may help in this situation.” He looked towards the noble man, gauging his reactions. A trained skill, necessary in conversational warfare. To know when to speak, when to not, and when to simply observe. This man weaving a tale of terror appeared as no novice, he was certain of it.
Raphael seemed to shiver just a bit. A sense of fear in his body. Though his form remained as it was, his eyes recalled some unknown horror. Costea knew, this man walked a tightrope of dread, choosing his words as best he could. There was more to it, Gheorghe was likely already aware. Cezar though, he was but a carpenter. Perhaps this Raphael character was being threatened somehow. It would take great courage to speak here and now if that is the case.
”I am presuming you are questioning my credibility. By whatever means available to me, I shall ensure I speak the truth.” Raphael responded, his words firm but his spirit wavered.
Costea inhaled. No need to push too hard, honey traps more flies than vinegar. At least that is what his servants have told him. A great idiom, he ought to get some more. “If you may, please describe more about yourself. Surely a trustworthy man has an unambiguous history.”
The noble was a foolish man, Cezar thought to himself. Better to get to the point and not waste time on other shit. But, this Raphael man showed hesitation. Like a client with ulterior motives or things they haven’t mentioned. Not like a liar. But certainly not like a truther. He stayed his tongue and watched, whatever this foreigner would say, he would catch it.
“Well, my history does not seem relevant to the current dilemma, but I shall keep to my word. I hail from Auriteaux in the northern areas of France. My family was, decently stable in terms of finances, better than most I would say. I didn’t follow in my family’s footsteps and took on an apprenticeship in my later years. My mentor passed away not too long ago, and instructed me to go to Bucharest to meet with his acquaintance, Octavian Banciu, for further learning.” The foreign man caught his breath. Though his speech was controlled, a clear sense of weariness crept into his words.
“Was that satisfactory for you?” The foreign man asked, a faint air of innocence in the words.
Gheorghe was beyond certain. It was absolute. This man was hiding something. He must be, and it shall be brought before God. “And you have been traveling ever since then? Surely a man with some connections and means would be able to do so without need for coin nor aid.”
Raphael spoke once more in response to the questions of the man of cloth. “I have been living away from my family and by my own means for many years, I travel under the notion that and can both sustain myself and offer my services for fair compensation.” A fair notion, Cezar noted. Nothing wrong with that at all.
However, Gheorghe continued. “As your services entail what exactly?”
Raphael offered a plain response. “Manual labor and bodily inspections. I am training to become a doctor. Though I may be a novice I still wish to offer aid wherever possible.”
Veins pulsed with blood on the priest’s forehead. “Surely you do not think the church would be able to handle such matters. Over a thousand years of knowledge has been collected by the Lord’s faithful servants.”
“If there was anything you could teach me, I would happily accept it. But I digress. I fail to see how this is relevant to matters of life and death.” Raphael spoke, with Costea noting his brother-in-law's temple growing redder. Surely this man would speak well enough to calm Gheorghe’s ill temper.
“My child, it may have everything to do with it. We have refugees missing their homes, livelihoods and even loved ones. If you were to deliver falsehoods in a temple of God in such crises, you would be punished accordingly.” Cezar kept his arms crossed, Costea left his in his lap. Gheorghe was not the judicial authority. But wrath knew no limits.
Without hesitation, Cezar interjected. “How about we talk about your teacher and more about that, Raphael. Maybe just to get some better understanding. From one specialist to another.” He kept eyes on Raphael. He didn’t need to look elsewhere, the hole boring in the back of his head made his position quite evident.
The foreign man seemed to agree, though the supposed necessity of such derailments was clearly not accepted. “If you insist.” He kept his posture firm nonetheless as he recounted.
“I was living on my own for some time after separating from my family, practicing various trades as best I could. I had unfortunately been stricken with influenza, and due to lack of funds or support, I would have died. Enzo had crossed my path when I was begging on the street, took me to his home and nursed me to health. Like Christ aiding the sick, he had no need to do so. After I recovered, I pleaded for him to teach me, so I can also help others just as he had. I owe him a great deal that I wish to repay by following in his good deeds.”
A straightforward answer, no doubt. Cezar had no immediate complaints. Moreso, what was there to ask? I didn’t know nor did it concern him. Better to not take action if he wasn’t up to it.
“Was this Enzo a devout man of the Lord?” Gheorghe asked, his mouth concealed by his crossed fingers.
“As far as I can recall, no, he was not. He had mentioned a falling out with some members of the Church and was exiled, but that was apparently a long time ago. I do not have many details of his past.”
“Then how could he have possibly healed you? Influenza is not an illness so readily cured. And for you of all people to be given aid by an excommunicated heretic seems preposterous.” Gheorghe spoke, venom dispersing slowly but surely.
“Not a chance!” Raphael interjected, emotion breaking through practiced posture. “He was a good man, no Devil worshipper or heretic.”
“No man not beloved by God cannot be virtuous, only through the Lord can we be cleansed of sin!” Gheorghe’s voice rose further, the pulse of his speech vibrating the items present in the small room.
“It wasn’t sin, it was influenza!” Raphael retorted. Cezar noted a crack at the end of the sentence. Costea wished not to speak, what could he do before Gheorghe’s acrimony. Though, poor Raphael, has suffered enough, what good would come from rejecting him? What good would there be to disbelieve an honest man?
“No man who back stands towards God shall be allowed to spread vile works nor shall he be granted salvation. You, a follower of such evil, had no place to speak here!” Gheorghe’s mask crumbled, his words no longer belying his thoughts.
“Enzo was a good man! Following the Lord isn’t a prerequisite towards kindness, nor virtue!” Raphael spoke, his practiced posture failing him as his chest stood firmer. “And that isn’t the point of any of this! There are threats to the people of Răscruce, far more important than myself and must be addressed!”
“Then how can you speak of virtue as a man clouded in suspicion and evil. You say you make way for Bucharest, yet you have no proof. You speak of practicing medicine, yet you are a novice without proper guidance. You defend a heretic, without restraint or the fear of God. You say you made it to this town, but was it your plan all along to spread more terror? Do you have anyone who would stand and testify on your behalf?! You are a dissenter, a heretic, a foul devil of a man! With wicked and blasphemous lies you dare cover our eyes and tell us of evil, when it is you yourself that perpetrates such malice?!”
Costea could not speak, as Gheorghe could not be stopped now. The words were certainly escaping the confines of this small room, while its lowly king echoed on. This was a failure of the highest order; a wasted meeting when he has documentation and dismay to corral.
Cezar saw Gheorghe go on one of his tirades before, to happen again was bad luck on his part. Nothing new, nothing anyone wanted to deal with. What a fucking prick.
But he saw Raphael’s hands. Veins popped and muscles tightened. The posture from the foreign man had taken a dangerous form, like a snake coiled to lunge. His eyes. Where exercised composure was once present, was a predator’s gaze.
“ENOUGH!” Cezar thrust his voice above all others. Raphael’s eyes looked towards Gheorghe. Gheorghe’s eyes saw not what fate awaited him.
“Gheorghe, focus on your job, we all have shit to do.” He turned to look at Raphael; both men’s hands primed towards their tools. “Your word isn’t enough to get the town to act, end of story. Do you think this current course of action is enough?” Cezar let his arm go slack, resting by his side. He watched the tension leave Raphael’s body; regret filled his brown eyes.
“I guess not.” A saddened look fell upon him, as Costea adjusted his posture to appear taller than he was, from the safety of the chair he sat in.
“You shall leave his holy ground and are never to return. Leave immediately.” Gheorghe mustered his voice to be as soft as possible, though the echoes of thunderous rage bellowed in his tone.
Raphael turned and walked; his presence no longer welcome. Before exiting, he asked, “May I only ask that you heed my word, in case of the worst coming to pass?”
“OUT NOW!!” Gheorghe screamed. Raphael held his tongue as his heart sunk. He opened the door and exited. The stares of the refugees pierced him. Gazes of scorn and fear sapped the warmth from his bones.
To make an enemy of the church was to be sentenced to a slow death. Not the first time. It was never any easier.
Raphael walked from the church grounds, back to the lair of the wicked that held him prisoner. The shackles of his own making, the price was his to pay, lest all pay instead.
Idiots. That room was full of nothing but absolute imbeciles. Ones that wouldn’t listen or think ahead. With all that power, yet too scared, arrogant or misguided to see things done.
Raphael sighed as he stepped across the road leading to Bucharest.
Would it be soon? Hopefully.
No. Hope wouldn’t do it. If he wanted it, he must take it. His to claim, his to achieve.
Though the vampire would not wait. How much longer until its hunger returned? Hopefully never, but hope never granted salvation.
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A solemn day for a solemn week. Teodosie stepped carefully, his trusty bow in hand. Catching game around town was a messy business. You never knew if some bastard was sneaking around, or if someone was trying to get to town outside of the roads. Trying to shoot them with his bow was difficult indeed. Some kept so still and cowardly, they weren’t much different from deer. Others skulked and were unruly bastards, like a wild beast, they deserved to take an arrow or two.
Of course, such eagerness to fire tends to backfire. He nearly hit Dragomir in the eye in his youth. Such an embarrassment tempered his bowstring, while anticipation pulled on his arms.
But the tracks he noted. They weren’t no deer. And they weren’t no cowardly folk or devious bastards. Not with these tracks. What looked like bootprints had etched themselves into the dirt, the faintest of outlines amidst the thick roots that covered the forest floor. The dry air tingled Teodosie’s nostrils. These prints certainly weren’t fresh, but they were rather deep. A deep print meant weight or force. There was a lotta force. But the steps looked off. Like someone barely able to walk right.
That just doesn’t seem right. A slight disparity caught his eye, a coloration in the dirt and leaves that differed from the rest. He looked, poked with a stick, and got a whiff. Dried blood. That’s either really good or really bad. There was game to be found, or a body lost to nature. Maybe both. Only one way to find out.
Walking and following the prints were certainly irregular, a hint of toeprints crept onto the prints here and there. Whoever was wearing shoes out here was certainly wearing them down. He looked more and more, noting bits of blood having followed along these tracks. Something was bleeding, but this had to be a while ago.
He looked up, looking to find where the tracks lead. But the prints stopped at his feet. The prints were smaller than his. A young man’s, a woman’s? Never mind that, where did the prints go?
Teodosie turned around, the forest in its summer heat either blinding him with creeping light or obscuring vision through the thick protective canopies.
The prints had stopped in their trail. They had clearly come from this way, and yet they could not be found. Why?
Questions, questions, questions. They were good. It meant there was something ore to clarify, something to make way towards action. He knelt down, his bad knee hating it with venomous ire. The last set of prints were deeper in to the dirt than the rest. If chasing deer had taught him anything, perhaps a leap was taken. But to where? There were no obstacles impeding the path, the ground was free of debris and obstruction.
New thought. Ignore the why. Just the where. Still, no place on the ground showed more prints. Drat.
New thought. Imagine the jump. From where the prints pointed, the launch off the ground. Teodosie looked it over, the arc of travel visible in his mind’s eye. All that would await a leaping person was a face full of a large tree. How unlikely was it? Who knew. He looked over at the tree. Upon the bark lay loose pieces of dirt. Someone clearly got that face full of bark.
Teodosie chuckled to himself. This mystery person was clearly a fool. Or perhaps a magician, capable to travel across trees without issue. He laughed, his bellowing belly filling his gut before escaping like the wind into the clam forest. His vision cleared as he wiped away the tears, he thought he was certainly funny.
What was also funny, with small indents along the bark. Long but not too deep. Teodosie looked up, noting more of them, spaced out in regular intervals. Like tracks. The faint pieces of dirt followed along these markings. This person jumped and climbed the tree somehow, without much in terms of handholds, just the markings. Each set had five markings, spaced apart horizontal from each other, the chest length of a young man or a woman. These were clearly claw marks, but what kind of person had claws? He’d seen some nasty nails, but these were definitely not ordinary.
Something wasn’t right in these woods. Teodosie could discern seriousness, though he was not one to concern himself. From the strange stories he had heard from refugees, to whispers of monsters attacking towns, or even some sad sack warning of a great evil encroaching upon Răscruce. But now more than ever, a chill crept in his throat.
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He was Teodosie. He had hunted bears before. Some ugly crazy woman-beast can be slightly manageable. He could always retreat at the first sign of trouble; no one would ever know.
He looked up towards the top of the trees. It was hard if not an absurd task to try and see any more markings. The way this creature had moved, Teodosie thought it might be a massive oversized squirrel wearing shoes. The humorous image remained in his mind as he kept walking. The trails kept going and going, upon where he saw the treeline began to thin. He was on the outskirts of town once again. Unsure of where exactly though. From the edge of the treeline, he spotted a lone cabin, all by its lonesome. The footprints had made it off the trees and back onto the dirt. Along with lines through the ground, like something, or somethings, were dragged.
Teodosie gulped. Something of note was in there. No smoke was seen. No sound cut through the air. Only dead silence echoed in his ears, the stillness shaking his senses. ……..
A chill gripped his heart, as the summer heat bore down upon his head.
The thing looks like a person, or has a similar shape. That’s the guess he’s going with now. It can leap and climb very quickly. Should it give chase, he will have to flee on foot and be evasive. It was running around the forest for some reason. Why? Who knows. Can’t be anything good.
He approached the house. There appeared to be some signs of recent use, with a discarded pile of animal bodies present outside. Was the thing feeding itself? No sounds were present. Whoever-, rather whatever was living here doesn’t seem to be present. He clenched his teeth, while his grip loosened on his bow, the sweat lubricating his fingers more than he wished.
Teodosie opened the door. Nary a sound was welcome her. It was an old place, likely with some history to it. He stepped inside, noting the state of the interior. There was an unoccupied bed to his left, a pot that looked like it finished cooking a while ago, a bowl left out and likely already used. A single person called this place home by the looks of it.
No sign of some unusual creature however. There was a cabinet pushed in front of a window, and a box resting on the floor, but aside from that, nothing else of note. The drab nature of it was not much better than his own abode. Though this place was certainly strange. A house on the edge of town, with no one in it, surely at least someone, anyone would have said something about it.
Sweat pooled onto Teodosie’s brow. There was a rumor, a story going around town. The old farmer family, the son who became a leatherworker. They lived on the edge of town, and all got the plague and died.
The sweat began to pour. No wonder this place was infested, only something cursed would live here. It was a mistake to come here. Monster or not, every breath could bring the plague upon him. No glory or good deed was worth that. A chill feel upon him, his blood ran cold. Did he have it already? Was he cursed for his mistake, for a plan ill-thought, with a prize of illness gained? A mutter filled his ears. Surely, he was hearing things that weren’t there. It made no difference, a second longer was a day of lifetime that might never be.
Teodosie turned to flee, as sharp nails tore his face. He stumbled back, the pain only now registering. He felt the warmth of blood kiss his cheek, while the rest of him turned cold. For only a moment, he saw the monster. Wild dark hair, pale skin, ragged clothes, a jaw lined with fangs, and a clawed hand dripping with blood. Not claws, fingernails. Not that it made a difference. But the eye, he one he could see, while the other was cloaked under the hair. A blue unlike anything seen before. Mesmerizing, and dangerous. Very. VERY dangerous.
He grabbed an arrow, focusing as the pain alerted him. The creature lunged, faster than he expected. The right hands of the beast gripped around his throat, while the other grabbed his arm. Her weight and force met his, far stronger than him despite the difference in size. Tedodise fell onto his back, the floor shaking from the combined weight dropping upon it.
Breath evaded his lungs like the prey he used to hunt. His other hand was free, as he went to grab an arrow. The creature extended its leg, landing her foot onto it, crushing his wrist with its heel. Both his hands and neck were now restrained and crushed under the strength of this creature. His mind thrashing violently while his body could do nothing. To be on the other end of the hunt, such a painful irony. But his prey managed to get away before. And he could do the same. He brought his legs up, pushing his hips off the floor, throwing the creature off balance just a bit. Its foot loosened off of his wrist, though its grip on his neck was about ready to break it. He grabbed an arrow, thrusting it immediately and violently into that beautiful blue eye.
“RRRRAAAAHHHHH!!!!” A bestial shriek roared within this cursed cabin. The hand around his neck loosened as it went to comfort the damaged eye. As his vision returned from the darkness, Teodosie could see the monster being trying to yank out the foreign implement. Such an opportunity shouldn’t be ignored. He grabbed another arrow, jamming it into the other wrist holding him in place, then shoving the creature away in one swift motion. He stood up, looking towards the exit. It was faster than him, better to deal damage before fleeing.
Looking around, he noted a large cabinet placed in front of the window. Better than nothing, as he grabbed it and shoved it onto the creature. It fell swiftly; clattering metal and wood could be heard from within the plunging furniture. The monster was knocked prone onto the floor, the weight on top of it clearly being enough to topple even such an ungodly beast.
It lay, restrained from the pincered position between the wooden floor and the heavy chiffonier. Yet, its arms pushed off the floor, the heavy piece of carpentry not debilitating it, merely an inconvenience. Teodosie readied an arrow, aiming for the knees. The light that now permeated the room made the shot as easy as any hunter could hope for.
Such guiding light held another advantage, as the creature’s skin made contact with it for but a moment, before burning and igniting. It screeched in pain, thrashing and rolling away from the light, trying to put out the flames. Teodosie saw a natural weakness, and recognized opportunity. He opened the remaining windows, the light either scorching it further or forcing it into a strategic retreat within this confined space. Its options were limited, as it glared at him.
He saw the eye, damaged and destroyed; he was certain the other one had to be usable given its fixation in his direction. Yet, that bloody hole began to become coated in blood, blood pouring out of the wound and emerging from underneath the skin. It pooled and congealed into the wound, and Teodosie saw the same blue eye return as the blood faded away like dust.
This thing would not die easily.
This was not a hunt; it was a twisted game of survival. The creature stood, glaring at him. The light stood tall between them, while Teodosie remained in darkness himself. He kept his arrow ready, the door within distance. The creature shifted its legs for but a moment, and Teodosie released his fingers, the string vibrating as tension vanished.
The creature had begun its mad dash towards him, just as an arrow struck its knee. A clean shot, as Teodosie readied and fired another one for the other leg. Another clean shot, as the creature fell onto the floor, the light burning away at it once again. Teodosie ran and leapt over it, like the deer he chased for years before. The perspective of being the prey was not something to expect, but proved vital nonetheless. He heard the creature’s screams, as he ran. His heart raced further and further, his legs doing the same. There was a monster in town, whether anyone believed him or not, people need to know they are now the prey.
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The long road out of town felt shorter than before. The sunset cloaked him in orange hues, though it brought no comfort, no invitation to rest.
Raphael stepped towards the abandoned house, and was shaken alert. There was blood on the wood, leading outside. He swung the door open. The cabinet that was blocking a window was on the floor. Bloodstains were present as well, though the source remained unknown. The windows were open, and broken arrows lay amongst the debris on the floor,
The vampire was huddled in the corner, away from the light. It had not a look of fear, the light’s deathly embrace was not a danger, it would fade very soon.
Raphael immediately searched the room, checking beneath the shabby bed. His satchel and its contents remained, untouched by whatever commotion had occurred here. He breathed a sigh of relief. But inhaled once more as he turned his head. The vampire remained in the corner. Waiting. Not patient. But definitely waiting.
With trepidation, he asked it, “What happened here?”
The monster replied curtly, “Human entered. I bit him.”
A cold sweat formed from Raphael’s head. “Then what? Where is this man?”
The vampire retorted, “He hurt me. He ran.”
This was a turn of events that boded nothing but ill omens. He was shunned by the town, dangers existed without anyone else knowing, and now the vampire’s existence is known. Raphael put his head in his hands. Maybe if he spoke of its existence. Maybe this would be over. To betray a monster would be no betrayal at all.
It was too late for regrets; his failings were his own. This cage mustn’t hold him, not when he’s come so far, so close towards his chance.
But the monsters both near and unknown would not evade his mind’s eye. He could not look away. He turned towards the vampire once more, as the sun’s setting blanketed it in the comforting darkness. His blood ran cold at the sight of the blue eye, veins bulging as the teeth sharpening.
It had a look that foretold its primary directive. The hunger. Insatiable. Endless. Eternal. It had returned. Raphael saw that expression before. His body froze as its mouth curled into a vicious grin, the teeth out and ready for feast. “Hungry…….”
Raphael stepped back. He had little time to act, but the vampire sprung forward, knocking him on his back. His vision faded for but a moment as his head throbbed in pain. From blurry eyes he saw only the outline of the black maned beast as it swiftly descended from view. Only a moment’s respite allowed him to regain his thoughts, before pain pierced his brain.
Blood. Savoring. Delicious. Both ambrosia and elixir that sustained her life. The hunger returned to her, and her human did so just when she needed it. Truly, a good human. The veins in his neck held her prize, as her teeth pierced the skin, and ruptured the vessels. She sucked, drank and absorbed. Everything she could. It was delicious, it was tantalizing, it was never enough.
More and more entered her mouth, joining her essence, her thoughts clearing only slightly. Such bliss to be given what she wants, the hunting and effort rewarded after all. She smiled, truly what a lovely night.
A blunt pain impacted her throat. Her teeth loosened from her prey as she swallowed the last of her prize. She had no need for air, but the reflex to inhale burst from all the same. The human held his weapon; the pointy side faced away from her. It looks like he hit her with its bottom. Why? How dare he? She was hungry. HUNGRY.
“HUNGRY.” She growled at her human. Why did he refuse her, his blood was hers to take. Hers. Drink. More.
“You had your fill. I cannot give more.” He stood up, swapping the weapon to point to her. His arms shook, the blood still dripping from his neck. He placed his hand on it; humans did that when in pain. Pain. Pain is bad. He hurt her.
Was he in pain? Her teeth are pointy; his weapon is pointy. Hurt. Both?
Hungry. Need. More. MoRe. MORE. MORE. MORE.
He dies; he gives no more blood. More blood. Need more. He give more. Now. If now, no later. After later? More later, more blood.
He won’t die now. He will not die now.
“You. Not. You do not die now.” Her words slurred, both unbearable need and unparalleled ecstasy blurring her mind. She walked over to her human. His body shook, his eyes shaking. She grabbed his hand, licking the blood off of it and his wound. It would close like the ways humans heal. She turned, as the sun’s vacancy invited the moon’s gift. Her time to hunt. Hers and hers alone.
She burst out the open door and ran towards the woods. There was no time to waste. To feed and feast, despite the pain tearing her mind, it was a wonderful night indeed.
Raphael sunk to the floor. The pain in his neck and the massive blood loss were on thing. But this day alone was the worst of all. He placed his head in his hands, no one above to hear his pleas. Like the setting sun, he found himself awaiting the darkness, with nothing but the moon gazing upon him.
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Brush, leaves and dirt kept pressing against his feet. It had been days of searching blindly. From what he gathered, the best place to look would be where no other creatures dare. He was ragged and tired, work was a pain, the old man was a drag, and it was always something going on. Never appreciated. Always having to clean up mistakes.
He wasn’t wrong. He couldn’t be. But it was always the same. You can do better’, ‘What were you thinking?’, ‘Think about what others want’, ‘You have the ability, but no foresight’. Of course he had the ability. No one else was like him. They had to be lesser; he had to be the better one. Otherwise, what sense would it make?
The pondering halted itself, as his blood turned cold. He could feel a presence creep into his bones, his heart pumping faster and faster. He saw not what beckoned him. He turned, his legs shaking as he noted some brush in front of a tree. It looked like something had cut through it, though likely from a decent amount of time ago. Gingerly placing his hand on the brush, he pushed it aside, and saw the perpetrator.
Crimson coated and enveloped the crystal, a dark yet reflective finish that showed his twisted face back to him. Splinters of wood had carpeted the ground below; the jewel had likely impacted the tree with great force. It appeared stuck in place. No way that would stop him. He pulled out his chisel and mallet, carefully chipping away at the bark. It was deeper in than he suspected, perhaps the gem’s true size was much larger.
He kept swinging the hammer. The gem reflected with every motion, the light catching his eye every time. He looked upon it; his gaze being lost enough to hit his thumb a few times. A momentary distraction. He doesn’t make mistakes, but here, no one would know. He kept going, and going. The mistakes were more frequent, the speed increased. The sheen was tantalizing. His thumbs bled, broken and bruised, but he kept going and going. His blood fell upon the crystal, and seemed to coat its glimmerous form and become one with it. How beautiful.
He swung with wild abandon; his prize was there for the taking. His. His. HIS. Wood and splinters showering the ground, his body covered in bits of bark, but he did not care. It called to him, a promise of reward like no other. It must have. It must be. For him, and him alone. He would have its beauty, a boon like no other.
A thump alerted him. The crystal had come loose, fallen onto the ground beneath him. Night had fallen long ago already. He looked at his hands. Red, blue and black. Bone could be seen protruding from the skin, muscles dangling like string.
It did not matter. His prize was here. He knelt down, curling painful fingers around the gem. An allure like no other, a promise of life and plenty, one that God could never give.
How wonderful.
He was hungry. So very hungry.
It did not matter. He would not be hungry anymore. Saliva poured from his lips onto his prize. His jaw loosened, as his teeth clamped upon his reward.
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