Chapter 1: Ready to Die Then?
"So, to wind up that insanely amazing speech, being a vampire is one of the most rewarding experiences in life."
The boy doesn't look convinced. His face is only half visible, the dense trees shielding the Sun. The shadows dance across his face, the scars, both scabbed and fresh, barely visible now.
"You didn't answer my question though. Do I have to drink blood?" His voice quivers
I don't look threatening, do I? Perhaps this red and black ensemble wasn't the best choice. Alden said the colors oozed evil. But I couldn't help myself, right of personal expression and all that. Besides, after four centuries of existence, you'd think I'd have earned the right to dress however I please.
I sigh. My choice of location wasn't the wisest either – these trees, standing like millenniums old sentinels have a way of making even the most harmless conversations eerie. Choosing your own undeath has to be an ominous situation, though, even in the Garden of the Gods.
"I don't want to hurt people..." His eyes turn watery. I guess he took my silence for a resounding yes.
"You won't. Or well, you can’t. I believe you’ve heard of Donor Enchantment?
“The one Gallant Lord Enakso bestowed upon Vampirekind?”
“Bestowed? More like cursed!”
The boy takes a step back.
“Apologies. Shouldn’t have raised my voice. But yes, the one Ghastly Lord Enakso bestowed. And you should get used to the new nickname, wouldn’t want your Kin hearing you called that bastard gallant. The curse creates a bond between drinker and donor. We must fulfil a wish that our donor makes. Or we die. This time permanently. You get to choose, and so do the donors. Believe me, it is important to choose well. You fall for a human’s sob story and next thing you know you’re charged with burning the village chief alive while your donor sits on his throne.”
He looks conflicted still. Have to up my game.
“Look at it this way, you've been in my company for the past hour or so, right in the middle of the Dreadwoods – I mean, the name should clue you in not to come hunting in here. Food? You won’t find a living creature here that won’t eat you alive or dead, or both. To your greatest fortune; I am not them. They offer death, I offer life. Or afterlife, afterdeath? Undeath? No, let me try again. I offer hope. Yes, now that sounds inspiring.”
“Why me, I’m nothing.” He believes it. His voice gives it away.
“You are. Nothing of what humans are, that is. Cruel, greedy, savage, or all of those. You are the very image of what such people would hope to crush. The whole bunny teeth and doe eyes add to the picture. But here I stand, offering power and you suspect me of treachery. I would never." I finish my speech with an exaggerated huff.
"I wasn't trying to upset you. It's just a life altering decision." The wind rustles through the leaves, carrying with it the scent of approaching rain. Perfect atmospheric timing, truly.
"I understand. You don't want to spend your 456th birthday thinking what your life would have been like if you had made a different choice. I speak from no one's experience ever, because there shall be no regrets. So, want it or leave it?" I try to keep my tone light, but there's an edge of urgency I can't quite mask. The moon is rising, and with it, the window of opportunity grows smaller.
"How would it work?" Elias asks again, his voice trembling but laced with underlying curiosity. His heartbeat, quicker now, but steady – the rhythm of someone on the edge of change.
I smile, biting my lips and feel my fangs, lengthened slightly in anticipation.
"It’s simple, really. I cut my wrist and bite you. The moment you feel your vision blurring, you drink from me. I drain you. Voilà—you're dead. Or undead? I really need to work on that. Anyways, coming back to the Vampire know-how. The first and most intense feeling after you wake up will be of hunger. Like you’ve been starved for weeks. Then, burning. You’ll feel your inside turn to fire and ice, but you'll come out the other side stronger, faster, sharer." I pause, partly for dramatic effect, partly to make sure the boy takes it all in. Understanding dawns in his eyes, alongside something I didn’t know he had. Determination. And to think I knew well. Two decades are not enough I suppose, barely anytime, but can’t back out now.
Lightning flashes in the distance, illuminating the clearing we stand in.
The boy startles and trips over a rock.
I quickly grasp his hand, before his fall.
“Thank you. It is not common here. The Teller in our village said, it was a sign of The Fates displeasure.”
“Yes, and I’m quite sure he also said he’d cure people of the Demonic Voices in exchange for fifty silver coins but those fools pierced their own ears before they could convict this Tailor of Lies.”
“Thirty coins.” It was his first retort, a timid one, but one nonetheless. I’m already brushing off on him.
Another streak of lightning punctuates my chuckle.
He was right about one thing This wasn’t common. I'd suspect the Warlocks but they won’t be caught dead in this part of the Dreadwoods. Not that much could kill them. It was only the lowly creatures who dwelled here. Regardless, it is better not to stay here much longer. The unknown us a bigger threat than any monster, living or dead.
“Ready to die then?” I could’ve been more eloquent but no matter. I have an eternity to make up for it.
The kid frowns, his fingers absently tracing patterns on his wrist. "What if I don't want it after?"
"There is no going back on this, once I bite, it’s turn or die. An unfortunate circumstance of centuries of dependence on vials. Blame the Gluttonous Lord Enakso." I reply, crossing my arms. The fur of my jacket tickles me softly. "Trust me, you don’t want to turn it down. Immortality has its perks. The hunger doesn’t take long getting used to. I'll be there to help you through it." My gaze softens as I add, "I chose you. Hundreds of thousands of mortals have begged me for my blood over the centuries and yet you’re the first who’ll get a taste of it."
Something flickers across his face. Quick before it returns to it dormant expression of now diminished fear. Mortals sure do love their firsts.
He lets out a nervous chuckle, but there's a flicker of trust in his eyes. "Okay," he whispers. "Do it. Now please."
I step closer, brushing a strand of hair from his face, revealing a scabbed scar. My fingers linger for a moment over the strum of flowing blood, the warmth of living flesh. "Fair warning. This might sting."
