Rouge de Sang: Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

“Dividing the prey, to every man a damsel or two.” – The bible
Judges 5:30


Jamaica, Queens, NY May 17th, 2004


Julien stared blankly into Onlhar’s eyes marveling at how he knew what he was. He was trying to adjudicate whether or not to go along with what the young elf was querying. His eyebrows seemed to knit together as he asked the question “How did you know?” he asked faintly. Onlhar grinned and lifted his glass, turning it with his hand before putting it to his lips and taking a sip. “I can read people pretty well.” He turned and scanned Julien’s face a second time. “It’s quite obvious actually.” He chuckled. “Who goes to a bar and doesn’t even order a drink?” he held his laughter as he said it, taking another sip from his drink.
“A person that doesn’t have anywhere else to go.” Julien replied, dropping his eyes. “Or maybe a blood thirsty vampire, searching for an innocent human to eradicate” Onlhar snapped back, placing his drink on the table and tapping Julien on the shoulder. “Look over there.” He leaned in close and pointed to a young blond sitting at a table in the far end of the bar. “She’s drunk, and desperate.” Onlhar laughed silently. “Listen, I’m not looking to hunt tonight.” “I filed my fangs down in order to go out this morning.” Julien replied silently, still staring at the young blond. His hunger was almost unbearable.

“You go out during the day?” he said, astonished.
“How is that possible? The sun is baleful to your kind.” Onlhar said moving closer to Julien in interest. “I’m only half. I carry limited vampiric traits; like the thirst for human blood for example.” He said, licking his lips at the thought.
After a moment Onlhar answered “very interesting.” He said. Julien nodded, and continued to stare at the blond. “You know, it couldn’t be too hard to kill her with filed fangs.” Onlhar whispered into Julien’s ear. Julien sighed and tightened his fists as he got up out of his seat. He ran his tongue along the top row of his teeth, feeling his already growing in fangs. He got up to the table fairly quickly and sat down in front of the blond. “Hello.” He said leaning in toward her. The blond ogled Julien, taking in his beautiful aroma and staring straight into his dark auburn eyes. He knew by the look on her face, the blond would do just about anything he wanted.

They talked for less then a minute when he offered to walk her to her car. Onlhar was watching silently from the bar, awaiting the moment carefully. Julien opened the back exit into the parking lot and a brisk night breeze blew gracefully past the two. When he got outside, his eyes easily adjusted to the inkiness of the black parking lot. The darker it got, the more sophisticated his eye sight got. The blond was in front of him, pointing to a dark blue 1992 Buick Skylark when he grabbed her. He held both her arms in his hands with pure brute strength and pulled her close to him. His skin was icy and his grip made her whole body frigid. “W-what are you doing?” she stuttered, almost unable to speak as he brought her close to him, his inclement breath lingering on her neck. He nudged the side of her jaw with his head, pushing hers to an angle at which he had full and easy visibility of her pulsating jugular. She squirmed a bit when his semi-sharp canines pierced her skin, but it was all over in less then twenty seconds. Her body was limp, lifeless; Julien placed her behind a dumpster in a nearby alley as he wiped the blood from the sides of his mouth, he turned the corner to re-enter the bar when directly around the bend Onlhar had been leaning against the wall. Cigarette in hand he said “Full?”

*

“Cruel as death, and hungry as the grave.” - James Thomson

Seathwaite, The Lake District, Britain October 22nd, 1770

Végtelen kor – it’s supposed to be an honor. It was two years since Zarico’s “last birthday”. Now it was Razaru and Rishic’s time for endless age. Rishic had nightmares for weeks after Zarico was turned, He remembered the day it happened so vividly that his dreams were almost exact replicas of the event. Zarico lay in bed for hours, screaming in torturous agony. Rishic remembered being by his side, he remembered Zarico’s veins pulsating rapidly, faster then he’d ever seen. He remembered his eyes as they changed from dull sepia to a curdling raven black, and his skin; which was a deep copper tone seemed to drain its color as the venom drained his life. The scene was blood-curdling; Zarico’s muffled voice that which howled “Let me die now!” still replays itself in Rishic’s mind from time to time. After a day of this, Zarico was settling. Rishic was sure he was dead, but he awoke his slumber giddier then ever. He could pick up both Razaru and Rishic with merely one arm. His personality had changed for the better, he no longer exclusively bantered about himself in conversation. His haughty human traits had dispersed; he was likable.

It was a day before Végtelen kor and Rishic lay in his bed emotionless. He remembered the day after Végtelen kor two years before, Zarico had left. He had never returned nor written letters. He just fell off the face of the earth, it was as though Rishic imagined him waking up from his eternal slumber, as though he’d actually died in his sleep the night they turned him. The night was restless, on his last night of sleep Rishic dreamed of his mother, with her bouncy black hair. He wondered where she was, if she ever thought about him. He wondered if his mother was dead… Rishic finally found out what his fear was; he feared death.

“Young Rishic, come.” Berusai said calmly, holding his hand out in adherence. Rishic obeyed and walked toward him. “It is time; I presume that you accept the honor of Végtelen kor.” Berusai asked a rhetorical question. Rishic swallowed and stared up at Berusai, who was a good foot and a half taller then he. “Yes.” He managed to say. “Good.” Berusai placed his hand on Rishic’s shoulder and led him to a small cot. “Lie down, and stay calm.” Berusai ordered. Rishic did as he was told, and attempted to mask his fear as he lay down willingly on the diminutive cot. Berusai sat next to him on the cot and stared at Rishic unwaveringly. He leaned over and gently pierced Rishic’s neck with his cutting ivories. Rishic’s blood pressure rose exceedingly high, as he twitched and held back the impulse to scream.

Before long, Rishic awoke to excruciating pain in his neck; which began flooding through the rest of his body. His heart pounded in his chest, he could see his chest rise and fall with each beat. His fists were clenched firmly and held straight across his sides. He could feel his temple pulsating and when he opened his eyes, his vision was obscured, and he was unable to focus. He managed to let out a loud yelp, but received nothing in return. He could feel death present in the room, in the shadows he thought; anticipating the moment his heart would stop beating. He shut his eyes tight, to the point where it hurt with strain. After a few moments, Rishic’s skin became arctic to the touch; his breath iced his throat as he exhaled. The discomfort faded slowly, as his heart beat got sluggish. He lifted his tongue to call out to anyone listening and nicked it on his now salient, knifelike canines.