Cantiana

“I told you not to go out at night!” the boy’s father yelled as he took off his jacket and threw it on the coat rack. The boy, who was still dressed in winter regalia, walked brusquely to the couch and slumped onto it, wincing. His black coat showed no signs of staining, but his white mittens were totally ruined; the blood flowered on them, making them feel even wetter. He kept his expression a cold, indifferent mask as his father continued his tirade. “I can’t believe that you did something so reckless! Do you even know how I felt when I got a call from your cell, heard laughing, and then heard the click?!”

The boy looked at his hands, folding and unfolding them, listening to the squishing sounds. He didn’t want to see Ulrich’s face turn twenty shades of red, and he didn’t want to listen to the mistakes that he knew he had already made. That vampire girl had been so alluring, and that was what had made the experience all the more frightening: he couldn’t have stopped himself, even if he wanted to. He had learned all of this from Ulrich, but his raging father continued to rant, drilling that into him again, as if he hadn’t listened in the first place. Maybe he hadn’t.

Looking out the window, he realized that the snow had started to fall again, like it had this afternoon. He shivered and felt himself wanting to go to sleep, wanting to get away from this all. His father had oppressed him, and he had left anyway, against his father’s wishes, against everything that he had been taught since he was a little boy… had he really felt that restless? He had needed to go out, to go do something, to just leave and be reckless. But why...? Were those his true feelings, or had someone implanted them in his brain, muddling his common sense and all of his old habits...

“Alec!” Ulrich growled, stomping to a stop in front of him. The boy looked up at the sound of his name, his eyes suddenly sharp and bright with anger. His father took a step back and sighed, shaking his head. “You aren’t even listening, are you?” The boy stayed silent, and Ulrich continued. “Fine, just... go up to your room and change. Then go to bed. I’ll check on you later, so no leaving, got it?” he told him sternly, and Alec only nodded, standing up slowly and heading upstairs.

The dingy shack was made out of wood, and it creaked as he went upstairs and turned on the shower. As he undressed and waited for the shower to get warm, the evening’s events came back to him slowly. He didn’t want to think about it, exactly, but it was inevitable, he knew, and there was no point in fighting it. Stepping into the shower, he closed his eyes to revisit the memory of dusk in his mind, faintly hoping that there would be no nightmares tonight...

---

His father was out. Alec was the only one in the house, and it had only started to snow outside, a faint powder of it littering the ground. Grabbing his scarf, coat, and mittens, he dashed out the front door and ran down the street, trying to get out. All day, he had felt a sort of restlessness, and the urge to just get out was starting to eat away at him. He had to act on it before it consumed him.

Soon he was in town, and the old buildings gave him a sense of comfort. He knew not to leave after twilight, but there had been no choice. Surely, he would get back to the house in time before Ulrich returned from his “job” that the pestering Elders had assigned him. The boy didn’t particularly care, his expression a cool mask of nonchalance, but somewhere inside, he felt extremely annoyed. What was with him? Who the hell had the sort of sadistic humor to give him the luck to be born into a family of supernatural hunters? It was pretty sick, he thought, and he didn’t like it one bit, although he was good at his job.

Alec was the perfect student: top in the class, with the best grades, not one under ninety-seven out of one hundred points. He had looks: his golden hair that shone in the light as if it were sunshine, and the porcelain skin that was unmarred by cuts or gashes. Only a few upperclassmen had managed to hit him in duels and spars, but none of them ever able to defeat him. At home, he poured over his studies and trained relentlessly in the backyard’s obstacle course that his father used. There were different levels, from one to fifteen, and Alec had slowly worked his way up to level fourteen, although presently, he couldn’t get past it.

Going through this in his mind, he began to wonder where, exactly, his purpose was. To exterminate the unnatural? To help the innocently ignorant? Where was that even fair? Why had he been the one to be born under an unlucky star? His parents had constantly congratulated him and urged him on his studies, and he had morosely complied, not really caring one way or the other.

But now; now...

He hugged his arms to his shoulders, trying unsuccessfully to keep warm. Night had fallen, and he had no way of getting back; it seemed that his feet had taken him into the most dangerous parts of town, where bars and illegal kiosks littered the street sides, while druggies and creatures lurked in the shadows, waiting for something. Who knew what? The air smelled heavily of smoke and burned something, although the something, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out.

A few meters away, there was a brightly lit building. What it was, he wasn’t sure, but he figured that he could get something to drink in there. That drink might just drown that uncontrollable urge to continue running and never stop.

Within a few moments of picking up his pace, he was there, and the interior of this bar was dimly lit. Old English lanterns clung to the wall, a few looking as if they would fall off any moment. Alec cringed at the dingy-looking walls, and the gruesome marble bar table that looked so dirty, a fly wouldn’t bother giving it a second glance.

Surprisingly, the air in here was clean, and warm, like Christmastime, and that puzzled him. He immediately put his guard up and eyed everyone in there. No one seemed particularly abnormal, so he took a seat. He made sure that he didn’t touch the table.

“Eh, wha’ wou’ ya like, li’le sir?” The bartender asked, cleaning a beer jug with a rag so dirty that it seemed that his job wasn’t to make everything sanitary, but to poison everyone who walked into the bar. His accent was off, and Alec had a hard time understanding him, but he sighed, frowning. In places like this, you needed to look sophisticated, and to successfully look sophisticated, you needed to feel it. All Alec felt was nervous and reckless.

He ordered some ale, knowing full well that he was underage. The bartender, though, didn’t seem to care about age: there was a little girl in the back of the bar with what Alec hoped was her father, for she looked about nine or ten, drinking directly out of a whiskey bottle. As he observed this, the bartender set a glass of ale in front of Alec, who took it and lifted it to his lips, sniffing it quickly. A faint trace of alcohol was easily detectable.

“Sir, I ordered some ale, nothing with vodka in it,” Alec tried to explain calmly, but his nerves were on edge. The bartender merely shrugged in response and tossed him a straw, which Alec frowned at as he stuck it into the drink. No way was he going to sip from that glass; not after what he saw that guy wiping the beer jug with. He decided against sipping it, having only wanted ale, and not wanting to get drunk. His senses were most easily controlled while sober, and he didn’t need a slight buzz to conflict with anything, especially tonight. If something went wrong (or more wrong than it was already), he knew that he would most likely need everything that he had, no distractions. That was completely out of the question.

A blast of cold air flooded the bar as the door opened, and a woman walked into the building. She wore a long blue dress with silver sequins, and wrapped around her was an expensive-looking white feather boa. Her neck dripped with diamonds, and her lips were full and crimson. What was most alluring about her though was her eyes: a metallic silver, sweeping the room with aristocratic practice. Her eyes fell on Alec, and he stiffened as she smiled, walking over to him.

Something was not right.

He eyed her warily, which he hoped seemed flirtatious enough to sate whatever strange fantasies she seemed to be planning in her mind. That was sort of scary, yet she still sat down next to him and ordered a peach schnapps for herself. Alec turned away and sipped again at his drink, making him splutter. He had forgotten bout the vodka.

“Water, you know, means ‘vodka’ in Russian,” she stated quietly to him, her voice a sultry whisper. He turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “It’s true. Although, I suppose you are not Russian.” She quipped, turning back to the bartender as he handed her the beverage. She merely stirred it as she studied Alec, a faint smile gracing her lips. “I am Cantiana, dear lad. Whoever might you be?”

He cleared his throat before answering, not wanting to sound hoarse, although he wouldn’t ever be able to pull off that whisper. “I’m Alec. Alec Goldman.” He told her, nodding his head in acknowledgement before sliding back his stool. Obviously, he was ready to leave, and he laid down two dollars on the table; there was no way that he was going to pay any more to a bartender who didn’t even listen to his order. The woman noticed the amount and added an extra dollar before putting down a five dollar bill next to her full glass of schnapps. She followed him out the door and into the cold night, right on his heels.

Frowning and pretending to be oblivious to her attention, he looked around, deciding to walk away from home, rather than to it. He figured that he could catch a bus to go back; it seemed like the sky would just open up and start to pour down snow any moment. But footsteps sounded from behind him, click-clacking of heels following someone. He pretended to look around once again, catching the lady in the blue dress – Cantiana? – behind him.

His pace quickened, and so did hers. They passed things quickly: a man sitting on the curb, singing some drunkenly slurred love song; a seemingly lost business man trying to jump-start his car unsuccessfully; a girl no older then twelve wandering the streets in rags, shivering, with her lips blue. Alec ignored all of this, and the lady’s stilettos were in sync with his heartbeat - click, bump. Clack, bump. Click, bump.

Frantic, he turned down an alleyway, looking up at the sky. There was no moon; it was shrouded by the clouds that had started to powder snow upon the world. He frowned and dug into his pocket, fumbling until he got frustrated and just ripped a mitten off. After he dialed Ulrich’s number – he had to be home by now, right? His clock had read ten at night – he had tugged on the mitten again. His breath was coming up in front of him in little white clouds, each pant holding some sort of desperation. He wanted away, away, but away from this place, away from this stalker.

“Ah, Mr. Goldman... what are you doing down here?” the female’s voice called, a smile vibrant in her voice. He whipped around to see her sauntering down the narrow alleyway, her movements like a cat’s. He listened to the monotonous ringing in his ear, mentally begging for Ulrich to pick up quickly. Please, please, please, Dad. Please help me. I’m sorry.

Cantiana stood in front of him now, snatching the phone away and letting it clatter to the ground. For a moment, he thought that she would stab it with her heels, but she didn’t, instead heading towards him. Alec had no way out. The back was sealed up with a brick wall, and there were no cartons or boxes to climb atop of so that he could reach anything. The buildings around him weren’t apartments, and there weren’t any ladders to help him. Cantiana’s long brown hair moved behind her in a quick gust of wind, and he saw her face clearly for the first time. Her smile was twisted, demented, revealing fangs.

A vampire. Part of the supernatural. Someone that he should extinguish.

She reached out and slammed him against the bricks, making a thudding sound and listening to his back crack. She started to laugh hysterically at Alec’s attempts to stave her away. They didn’t have any use, and he was starting to get desperate. The snow was falling in clumps now, littering everything, making everything hazy and dream-like, although this was far from a dream. The phone was the only light in the alley, and the glow subsided as he looked at it. Stupid power-save mode... he thought viciously, realizing that the call had been dropped. He hadn’t reached his father in time.

Cantiana’s fingers slid across his cheek, her knee on his knees, making sure that he couldn’t move. She had an ugly smirk on her face, and suddenly he felt a ripping on his collarbone. She had pulled down his coat collar and stuck her nails through his shirt, drawing blood. She jerked them out of him and licked her fingers, laughing again. The wounds were wide open and bleeding freely. The pain blinded Alec, and he lashed out with his foot, kicking her in the stomach at her gross distraction. She stumbled back, and Alec nearly stumbled forward himself, barely holding himself up. He immediately put his hand on the four holes to staunch the blood, but it was coming out quickly. Was there some sort of poison on her...?

She growled now, angry. Her eyes were a furious molten silver, her teeth bared. The snow that was on the ground was spattered with blood, and Alec’s mind went spinning at the stark contrast of the two colors. Cantiana’s eyes were those of a predator: cold, indifferent, and hungry. He knew that he couldn’t hold her off for another attack, and started to think about what had happened that day and what he wished that he could do later. This was going to be hard, to let go of life. How foolish he had been.

But as Cantiana approached him again, he saw a figure behind her, leaping out of the dark. This person surprised her, wrapping a silver chain around her and subduing her, shoving her down to the ground and putting his foot on her. That pretty blue dress was ripped and dirty now, and the white feather boa was bordering on a stale grey. His father looked at him sternly, glowering with anger and power.

“Go to the front of the alley, and do not move from there.” Ulrich ordered, and Alec could only numbly obey, looking down at Cantiana, who was still struggling. Her teeth snapped at nothing, her eyes a cold, mad stare. Before he reached the entrance of the alleyway, he heard a wet crunch and one last shriek before a thud and a sandy whisper filled the air around him.

Dead.

---

Alec stepped out of the shower, shuddering and holding himself. The holes were still there, he noticed as he looked in the mirror. Those wouldn’t go away anytime soon, but atleast they weren’t paining him. He would need to get them bandaged, and possibly stitched, unless he wanted four holes in his collar for some sort of sick decoration.

He dressed up in red flannel pajamas, drying off his hair one last time and throwing the towel on a rack. He went into his room that adjoined to the bathroom and threw himself on the bed after turning off a small lamp that Ulrich had probably turned on for him. Kind, but there was a scrap piece of paper next to it. Alec had only needed to glace at it before he passed out, feeling slightly irritated, but knowing that it was completely justifiable in Ulrich’s case.

“You’re grounded until time runs out.”