Bloodletter

‘Twas a dark and misty night.

The moon was full, and riding high in her misty bower, the wind drawing the thickening murk into billowing, twisted shapes on the ground. I walked, slowly, not wishing to turn my foot in some unseen dip in the road.

I was, I will admit, a little worse for drink. I had recently moved into my estate not far from a rather rich bachelor with a fondness for throwing the most extravagant of parties – and had recently invited me to one to make my acquaintance – ostensibly to get to know his new neighbour, but I rather think it was to test the competition. Certainly he had made me feel welcome enough.

He had offered the use of his carriage to ward off the dampness of the lacy fog, his expression concerned as he bade me farewell at the door. Anything could be out there, he’d said, bandits, robbers, and on this night, more sinister thieves after things other then just gold. I had turned him down, believing a gentle walk would serve me better.

Certainly I enjoyed the brisk coolness the wind brought to my face, my overcoat closed tight against it. My mood was light, and I would have whistled if the softness of the moon did not cast a solemn atmosphere over all. Instead, my mind played over the pleasantries of the evening, specifically the conversation I had had with my host.

Lord Creed was a large man, a giant amongst his peers by all accounts and the most eligible bachelor for miles. There was some rumour that he had once taken a wife, but none had ever seen her and he never spoke. Thinking some tragic accident had befallen her, none asked about it – the man certainly seemed to carry some melancholic weight on his shoulders.

He did the rounds of the party, as any good host, easily picked out of the crowds – standing head and shoulders above them as he did, well-groomed golden hair lying in a glassy mane around his shoulders – and finally made his way to my side, appearing almost silently.

He enquired about my evening, apologising that he had not come to me before but was expected to see to the more tedious duties before he was allowed to enjoy himself. He said this as if to share some private joke with me over his glass of wine, and indeed I could not help but laugh and reply that surely I was on that list myself – an unknown nobody should have been barely worthy of a Lord’s notice, after all.

He’d looked surprised at that, before telling me in a low voice that I should not put myself down so, that I had rare talent in me – apparently he had been watching my recent arrival with some interest. I was a little disturbed by this, and as if sensing this, the man had switched to more normal conversation, wishing to be regaled of my life before I moved to the estate next to his.

We talked for some time, over several glasses, and not once did he bring up what he had said before. Not until he made good his leave as a lady wished for his attention, asking me in a most whimsical way what my thoughts upon All Hallow’s and the legends that surrounded it were.

I merely replied that it would take more then stories to scare me and that I was not some dumb farm boy. He seemed amused by this and left me to my thoughts.

I was brought sharply back to my present surroundings by the sound of movement in the undergrowth beside the road. Rather then stop and look, I pulled my coat’s collar higher and took a brisker pace, noticing as I did that the night had grown colder as I mulled over the evening. Unbidden a conversation with a guest was brought to mind, that strange things occurred on nights such as tonight around this area. I smiled at my own gullibility and carried on walking – the noise was probably nothing more then some vermin or other.

I entered into a lane that wound under the trees, and my pace quickened – for no other reason then I knew I was past the half-way point and wished to get home quickly, to a warm bed and a good night’s rest. The night grew darker and clung about me as the moon was obscured by the trees, the fog blurring the edges of shadow and solid and making me think of the stories surrounding All Hallow’s Eve – of the line between the living world and the dead blurring as reality and fantasy met and mixed. I smiled at my own fancy, before my thoughts were drawn to the invitation Lord Creed had honoured me with. He held exclusive masquerade balls, an invitation to which was constantly vied with – especially by the ladies who were willing to catch the young handsome Lord’s attention.

I had found myself invited to tomorrow’s personally, which had made me the envy of many a person who had witnessed it.

Another noise, the sound of wood breaking under a creature’s foot, made my back stiffen. I could not pretend that that had been some mere fox. Straining my hearing, I peered into the trees, searching the blurry shadows for anything. If it had been some robber, he would have shown himself by now I was sure.

Trying to push my fear aside as a close inspection brought nothing to light, I turned back to the road, shivering in the damp cold. I looked up in time to catch the moon through the leafless boughs, smiling at her cold beauty as she watched over me.

The cold fog seemed to press in against my back, thickening, as if trying to wrap me in its tendrils, the moisture clinging to my coat. I shuddered as I felt some breath of air brush my throat, imagination populating the world with horrors and quickening my pace. The moon hid back in her bank of clouds, plunging my world into darkness-

It was all I could do not to scream as I felt a cold hand on the back of my neck, clamping through the collar and stilling me. Then I felt a sharp pain, and then…floating until the night wheeled around me and blackness descended.

--

I woke, cold, dreadfully cold. It was slow, and painful, and I felt weaker then a newborn as I slowly regained myself.

As I opened my eyes for the first time, I was aware of voices and a blurred canopy that was not my own. I felt lethargic, unable to move nor speak as the low murmuring played along the edge of hearing.

“He’s awake.”

“I will fetch the master, then. He requested we call him when he awoke.”

Master? I tried to push myself up as the door was opened, only to have the room spin around me. I almost fainted again, falling back on the pillows and gasping. Where was I? The voices were not ones I recognised, nor was the room. Indeed, when the white mist cleared from my eyes I could see this was not any room in my humble estate, the quality of the decorations far above my level of wealth. And yet, it looked oddly unused, the room too clean and bereft of personality.

A guest room, perhaps.

My dreamy musings were interrupted by the door opening again. I looked at it and nearly forced myself up again.

A strong hand immediately place on my chest, and Lord Creed gently pushed me back down, his expression one of concern as he sat on the chair beside me.

“Please, do not overexert yourself on my behalf.” He said quietly.

“M-my Lord-” My voice was pitifully weak next to his, a thin reed compared to his deep baritone. He smiled, cutting off my words.

“Please, my name is Victor. I would not have my friend use a title that means little to me.” He lifted his hand off my chest once he was satisfied I would not be attempting to move again. Oddly, I felt as if he’d left something there, a strange weight against my heart. “You were missed at your house last night. After your housewoman came to me in your carriage, I took some of my staff and came looking for you.” Something changed in his face, drawing in the shadows. “And it was good fortune I did. Something had attacked you, my friend, and our timely arrival had scared it off before it had time to finish the job.”

I suddenly remembered the pain from the night and my hand flew to my throat, meeting a bandage. My eyes went to Lo- no, he had requested I name him – Victor. Barely had I opened my mouth before he had held a hand to silence me.

“Be calm. As I said, we found you in time – though you were perilously close when we brought you back here.” Again, shadows flickered across his features, before they had fled. He put a hand to my shoulder. “As of now, you are my guest – and my patient – until you have strength enough to leave. I will brook no protest.” He stood, smiling at my dumbfounded look. “I feel it was my fault for not pressing my carriage on you. Please, enjoy your stay. If you call, my servants will get you anything. I have pressing business, but I will endeavour to return as soon as I can.”

It struck me, then, watching the huge man walk to the door and not having the strength to call after him, that despite his huge stature…he walked like a ghost, making no sound and barely disturbing anything.

-

The door shook as the slight man slammed against it, staggering and catching himself on the wall before he wiped his hand across his mouth. He stared at the blood before hissing at the other occupant.

“How dare you.” The other man, torchlight sliding over bare muscle, flexed his hands as if wishing he could wrap them around the other’s throat. “How could you, even you be so stupid?”

“I don’t see why you couldn’t just kill him.” The man replied petulantly, probing his teeth with his tongue and spitting out blood. “And it’s not like he saw me. I’m better then that.”

“That is not the point!” The huge man pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and taking a steadying breath. “This is not what we planned.”

The other sneered. “As if I care for that. You brought home a tasty morsel and expect me not to notice, dear brother?”

“I expect you to show some courtesy in my home.”

“Oh please, Victor.” The man snorted. “Alright, I will play your little game. But all I did was speed up the process. You cannot say you would have left him alone for long.”

Victor growled, stalking forward, hand around the smaller man’s throat and lifting him bodily off the floor, bare muscles shifting. “I have more restraint then you, Jacob. I am not some animal who listens to my instincts over logic.” He hissed. “I would have, in time, and it would have been done properly. Now you have forced my hand before I was ready!” He threw Jacob hard into the door again, turning his back and raking his hands through his hair, heaving a deep breath.

Ignoring the choking man, Victor walked to the other end of the room, picking up the glass that was there, blue eyes flicking over his sanctus sanctorum somewhere deep within his large house as he swirled the liquid. Jacob had made this difficult at best. He raised the glass, sipping the drink, the blood almost black in the torchlight. He looked at tonight’s victim, sadness going across his eyes.

At least the young lad had not ended up in the girl’s place.

“Sentimental, brother?”

“Leave me be, Jacob.” Victor said quietly. “We go through this every time.”

“I realise this, Victor.” Jacob’s voice was quiet as he stood beside him, dwarfed and overshadowed by the huge man. “It’ll be good, though.”

“Mmm.” They had been so many, once…he placed the glass of blood back on the table, and walked to the girl tied to the wall, her head lolling as she groaned. “Are you sated, child?”

“After last night? Incredibly.”

Victor cast a disgusted glance over his shoulder before tilting up the woman’s head. “Shush now, my dear.” He murmured. “Be still.” With that, he leant in, and almost tenderly sunk his fangs into her throat.

It didn’t take long before he felt her heart stutter, slow and then stop, her body hanging limp as Victor pulled back, wiping the blood from his mouth.

“Dispose of the body.” He ordered. “I have a patient to see to.”

--

It seems almost strange to me, the roll of the centuries. They slide past as light does through a window. I can remember many a time where I spent years merely thinking as if they were hours to a mere mortal.

Sometimes I can make it almost seem like I no longer miss her.

Strange, isn’t it, how something so fragile and fleeting should hold our attention for so long. She was like a butterfly, nothing but a pretty flash and a feel of wings before she burnt out, but ah…

Selfishly, I think I should have turned her. Taken her like she begged me to, make her mine completely but…I know that is nothing but the beast thinking, as much as it breaks my heart to know. But logic and calm thinking is what kept me alive for this long, when others of my kind have fallen through their own folly.

I would not have had her become yet another cursed immortal.

And yet…and yet…

I watched him sleep, as I had done every night he has taken shelter under my roof. He knew little of me, for which I was grateful – as if he were to find out…

He was pale, in the moonlight that falls through the window. One could almost believe he was already mine, the black lashes against white skin, hair bleached of colour and spread on the pillow. I did not feel as I felt for my butterfly, but he stirred a longing, some dark depth of me I had not dared touch for…for decades.

I had known of him for many months, seen him come and go from his estate. He seemed so…alive, yet apart from the others. So much like I was, before I was turned. I had to know him.

And once I knew him…I had to have him.

I think I had forgotten what it was like to be alive compared to him. I surround myself with people and pick victims like fine wines, but I am always alone, detached, even from those of my household like Jacob. He…he wrapped vitality around himself, hid himself in energy and light…and it was intoxicating.

I moved closer to his bed, footsteps silent, masked by his heartbeat. His breathing was slow as I approached, his posture relaxed, unaware of the predator beside him. I wondered if this is how my maker felt, all that time ago, when I awoke to find him beside me…

I pushed the memory aside as I knelt, smoothing back hair from his neck. The bruise from Jacob’s attack was still there, fading slowly. A surge of obsessive protectiveness surprised me before I shook it off, gently tracing the healing wound. The ripped punctures from where I had all but torn the vampling from him were almost completely healed, and I almost…almost leant in, the urge to taste him near overwhelming me.

Good then, that he stirred, breaking his spell and sending me back to the shadows.

Too soon. I wondered, briefly, if I would be able to wait much longer.

-

It had been fully a week since Victor had loaned me use of his rooms. I felt almost completely returned to my natural strength, the wasted tiredness retreating rapidly under his caring if slightly melancholic hand.

It turned out, interestingly, that he had studied to be a doctor at some point, although time and circumstance had caused him to give up the practice. I attributed this to the possible death of that elusive wife, although at no time was I brash enough to even consider opening that particular Pandora’s Box. I did, however, question as to when he had accomplished this, as he seemed uncommonly young to have studied for as long as he claimed.

He replied with a laugh that he was older then he appeared, although he would take that as a compliment.

Victor was, as ever, an enigmatic man during that entire conversation. As I improved in his care, he took to spending many hours with me, discussing a wide range of topics from contemporary science to ancient history – a subject he knew an almost obsessive amount about. Were it not for his age, I would have respectfully referred to him as a Professor, but still…

The house was almost as mysterious as its owner. To tell the truth, I had never had as good a night’s sleep as I had in that room – no sooner would I blow my candle out then I would be asleep, and I would not stir from my bed until sun rose to blind me. And oh! The dreams…some strange being watching over me, promising me such…

But they melted as ice does when the sun is on it, once I was awake. Still…I felt very much comforted by them.

Victor came in to interrupt my thoughts, smiling as his blue eyes flicked over me, always the doctor. “And how do I find you today, good sir?”

“Much improved on yesterday.” Always I felt timid in his presence, though he did not try to better me in the least. “I may be able to return, at your leisure, sir.”

“My dear De Noir, I would hear nothing of the sort.” He smiled, sitting beside me as was his custom, his servers leaving us alone. “I enjoy your company too much.”

“Then why, Victor, do you not consider poisoning me to keep me longer?” I smiled back.

He ducked his head, a secretive, considering smile creasing his face as stray strands of hair fell into his face in a most agreeable way. “I had not considered that. Perhaps I shall, in future, season your food with something a little less palatable.”

“And perhaps I shall starve, knowing that.” I laughed, as he did a moment later. Our conversation returned to lighter things, and as usual the hours slipped by.

As the sun was beginning to set, Victor seemed to become more animated then normal, though he seemed oddly agitated by what we were talking about – the scientific impossibility of immortality. He argued that – if such a thing was possible – it would be more of a curse then a blessing, watching the world change and die around one. At one point he startled me after I had made the point (admirably, I thought) that it would be wonderful to witness history in the making – who wouldn’t have wanted to talk to Shakespeare? – by catching hold of my shoulder.

“Do you have any idea, my friend, what that would be like?” He had said urgently. “Spending the ages alone, unable to dare to interact with man as one should for fear of watching your dearest grow old and leave you? To love and then to lose?”

“But surely, to have loved and lost is better then not having loved at all.” I quoted at him, trying to make light of his statement, but the look of sheer pain that reflected in his eyes made me regret those words instantly. “My Lord, forgive me.” I placed my hand on his as he bowed his head.

“You are already forgiven, friend.” He murmured quietly. “You…you do not know why it is that hurt me so.” He let go of my shoulder, reluctantly I thought, and smiled sadly at me. “I pray you never will have to learn the way I did. I would have rather never loved then to have loved and lost.”

“Your wife?”

He hesitated, then nodded. Prudently, I let the matter drop, having no wish to disturb our friendship.

--

It was now running on to two weeks under Victor’s roof. I had completely recovered, taking walks with the Lord through his estate. He had been established here for years, by all accounts, well loved by his household – who seemed unaccountably fascinated with me. When questioned about this, he merely smiled and told me he usually did not entertain, beyond the fabulous parties he was fond of throwing.

So for the Lord to have a guest such as I was unusual…for some reason, this made me feel uneasy.

Pure coincidence, when coupled with such feelings, can lend the imagination excuses to people the world with fantastic things. For instance, I had made plans to leave exactly two weeks after the accident, when the most horrendous snowstorm came early and raged for a full three days, blocking all routes from the estate.

I could not but feel something was conspiring against my leaving Lord Creed’s home, no matter how much I tried to brush off the paranoia.

I did not mind so much – my stay was a pleasant one. But as the days wore on, and three weeks came and went, I could not help that I was becoming less of a guest and more of a prisoner.

-

He sleeps less easy these days. I watch him, wrapped in shadow, as he paces in the moonlight, glancing occasionally at the ice-painted glass, the cold glow contrasting sharply with the warmth of the fire in his room.

He believes me unaware of how uneasy he has become in my home. If only I was…damn Jacob. Damn him and his impatience or jealousy or…whatever it was that drove him that night! I would have rather spent the months, maybe years needed to draw this man to becoming a friend and now…well, now I cannot let him go.

He has become my distraction, a new thought to banish the pain of the old. I find myself turning to him for his interactions, seeking his warmth now that the winter has hit in earnest.

And the more I spend with him…the more I want him. All of him.

I watch as he sits, picking up a book he borrowed from my library and reading it to stave off the hours. He is not aware of my presence – never is – and I feel comforted, watching him in privacy, much as it makes me feel as if I am intruding.

Perhaps…perhaps there is a way to draw him to me. I have many arcane rituals at my fingertips, but I refuse to entice him falsely. I would rather he came to me of his own accord. But yes…yes, there is a way.

I allow myself to fade, my consciousness scattering, sighing out of his rooms with less noise then a wandering spirit. I did not dare take form outside his door, choosing to drift to my own, incredibly private ones instead.

I am old. I have learnt many things in the centuries since my turning. Not the least was how well the tool of subtlety can serve in times of need.

-

I could not help but like Victor, despite my reservations as to his motives. Never have I found such a willing conversationalist amongst my peers, nor one as willing to discuss matters such as philosophy and politics as well as the less esoteric. In short, while eager to get back to my own home the more convinced I became I was being kept here, I was reluctant to lose what I had come to see as my first friend in a strange area.

He bade me stay another week, as he had a masked ball coming up that he’d be honoured to have me attend. How could I refuse? I have heard rumour that people had been trying for years to get an invitation to these prestigious, exclusive events, and the stories told…

Well, I could not say no.

He made his best tailors available, and would not hear my protest when he refused payment. Indeed, he seemed delighted that ‘new blood’ would be walking his floor, despite my misgivings. I am a bachelor and, judging from my host’s station, it was unlikely I would find myself a partner that would be anywhere near as low as my station in life.

If not for my great-grandfather’s folly, I would not have a worry.

But I digress. Victor was quick to attempt to dispel my misgivings.

“You will find yourself the guest of honour, Robert.” He chuckled. “I daresay you will be complaining of too much attention before the end of the night.”

“And what of yourself, Victor?” I smiled in return. “Will you spend your night lurking in the shadows, watching us all in melancholic joy?”

He actually smiled at me that time, and I saw something in his blue eyes that sent a light shiver down m spine, as if someone had opened a window into the icy chill outside. His words made the shiver worse, and I have yet to decide if they filled me with a dark excitement or dread.

“I believe I will find my entertainment, sir. Indeed, I believe the night will prove most…fruitful.”