Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ A Matter Of Choice ❯ The Waiting ( Chapter 3 )

The Waiting…

 

As morning dawned after a sleepless night Demetriov watched the sun rise through raw, red eyes. Salt stained his cheeks, marking the tracks of his tears. The dawn was glorious, the sun streaming in through the barred window. He turned away, not wanting to think of how little time he had to enjoy the beauty outside. He could not help but think about the lack of time. He had to savour what he had left. He took a deep breath and stepped up to the window. He didn't know if he had ever seen anything so wonderful. He had never noticed before the exact shade of green each tree or bush was. The extreme blueness of the sky shocked him, and he marvelled as the sunlight covered everything in a warm, golden blanket. It was if he had regained his sight after being blind.

 

He drank the experience in, trying to memorise every detail. It would be what he would try and think about when the executioner's axe fell. He couldn't believe he hadn't seen such beauty in a morning before. Had he been so preoccupied with other things? His mind wandered back to Avéa. This was the one thing she couldn't experience. She had often spoken of how she missed the sunshine. The vibrancy of colours lost in the night. That thought gave him a little satisfaction. She had no idea of real beauty.

 

He was roused from his pondering by the sound of footsteps in the corridor. Still, he couldn't tear himself from the scene outside. It mesmerised him even as he heard the key in the lock. He sighed as the door closed behind him once more.

 

“Demetriov?” The deep bass rumble of his ruler filled his ears.

 

“My liege.” He replied, turning to see the man that condemned him.

 

“I have to say this. I regret having to do this to you.”

 

“So there is no reprieve.”

 

“No. As much as I hate it I have to set an example. I cannot tolerate this from anyone. Not even you, not even for the right reasons.”

 

“I thought not.” Demetriov had already resigned himself to this.

 

“I feel it is my fault.”

 

“How my liege?”

 

“I should have listened to you. If I had I would have seen it coming. This wouldn't have happened. You have brought me to my senses. I should have known you would do everything in your power to stop bloodshed. You are a noble man.”

 

Demetriov heard all this, but there was one thing bothering him.

 

“My liege, why are you really here?”

 

“To apologise for doing this to you. It should not have happened. It seems unfair; unless it had been brought to my attention your actions would have gone completely unnoticed. I have been both blind and deaf. Can you forgive me?”

 

Demetriov found himself in a strange situation. His ruler was asking him for forgiveness, humbling himself before his subject. He found himself satisfied with this, but only for a moment. Immediately after he felt guilty for that satisfaction. He couldn't speak, but nodded his assent.

 

“The one thing I never realised was how much wiser you are than I.” The King continued. “You are very wise for one so young. Your father's death made you so. I should have known better. I'm sorry. I won't be there when it happens.”

 

“Thank you. I don't think I could stand to see you there.”

 

With that his ruler turned and knocked on the door, for the guard to let him out.

 

“Goodbye Demetriov.”

 

Demetriov didn't reply. He had returned to gazing at the morning outside. He barely heard the door slam behind him. He had become enraptured with the beauty that lay outside once more.

 

* * * * *

 

Demetriov stood and watched the day go by. He watched the angle of the sun change as morning became afternoon. He started to feel apprehension as the sun began to set. He felt sure Avéa would appear to taunt him. Sure enough, the sun had hardly set when she appeared once more.

 

“So you are willing to go to your death then?” She said, as she appeared to melt out of the shadows.

 

Demetriov stayed silent.

 

“Now he's ignoring me. How manly of him.”

 

“I have nothing to say to you Avéa.”

 

“Really?”

 

Demetriov didn't reply. He looked towards the locked door of his cell.

 

“Did the guards see you arrive?”

 

“Of course not. I wouldn't be so careless. Besides, as I discovered they are elsewhere, drinking themselves into a stupor. We are alone for the time being.”

 

Demetriov knew what was to come and turned his back on her. He had no desire to participate in her games.

 

“So, you are going to die. I did warn you what I was capable of. You now have two choices.”

 

“I've told you…”

 

“Do you really want to die?” She snarled, her eyes flashing with a darkness he had never seen before.

 

He stood slowly, facing her with all the courage and resolve he could muster.

 

“Tell me Avéa, is what you offer me really any better? An eternity of damnation and darkness? Taking the lives of others to survive?”

 

“A small price to pay for the power and virtual immortality that I offer you.”

 

“No-one should be allowed to decide who deserves to live and who deserves to die.”

 

“So you would rather die!” She spat, stepping up to him.

 

“What you offer me is not better than death!”

 

“Is it not?” She inquired with a quiet voice, her tone turning dangerous.

 

“I would deem it a fate worse than death.”

 

“ENOUGH!” She roared.

 

Before he knew what was happening he was flying through the air and crashing into the wall at the other side of the cell. He hit his head against the wall and fell in a crumpled heap, dazed. Avéa laughed at him.

 

“You see at last my strength. People would have me down as a weak little woman. You could have this strength, this power. Think of it, immortality, healing from the worst of wounds in minutes. Still you are telling me that you do not want this?”

 

“Yes.” He replied, picking himself off the floor.

 

“You are a fool Demetriov.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Reconsider.”

 

He stayed silent.

 

“Well!” She demanded.

 

“My answer, as it has always been, is no.”

 

Avéa screamed in frustration and dived at him. Demetriov tried to dodge but she adjusted at lightning speed. He hit the floor hard as she pinned him down. Before he knew what was happening she had grabbed a handful of his hair and forced his head back. He struggled against her but he was no match for her unnatural strength. She caught her breath and homed in on his throat.

 

“NO!” His shout was hoarse, fighting against her still.

 

“I swore I would have you Demetriov, and frankly, you have left me no choice!”

 

Demetriov felt a flash of pain in his throat as her teeth pierced his flesh. Tears rolled down his face, crying with pain and frustration. Something was building inside him, a sensation filling his body, sweeping the pain away in a wave. It took him a moment to recognise the sensation as pleasure, an ecstasy he had never known. It grew and grew in sweetness, taking him over. He forgot Avéa; he forgot she was drinking his blood, aware only of the beating of their hearts and the ecstasy that had filled him.

 

Avéa detached from his throat and he moaned as the ecstasy died. She took a knife from her belt and opened up a gash in her throat. She lifted his body and brought his head to her throat, offering the bloody wound to him. This time he did not fight her and closed his mouth over the bloody fount, the desire for the ecstasy was so strong, a force he could not fight. As the blood rushed into his mouth he gasped, a deeper ecstasy filling him. Once again he heard her heart beating in time with his, the sharp pleasure taking over all rational thought. He couldn't help but drink, his body slave to the pleasure it gave. It was unlike any blood he had tasted. He knew the hot copper taste in his mouth that came after a fight. This was different, a sweet elixir, and he could feel it seeping into his veins. He felt something rush through him, unaware of the change that had been started inside him.

 

All too soon it seemed, Avéa laid him to the floor and pulled away from him. He let out a small, quiet moan, making her smile.

 

“Oh I'm undone.”

 

“Indeed you are. What will you do? You are mine now.”

 

As the pleasure faded a pulsing started in his veins. Demetriov felt apprehensive, a rushing having started in his ears.

 

“What is happening to me?”

 

“The change is coming. Soon it will fill you, are you ready?”

 

“I don't know.”

 

Heat began to pulse through his veins, growing hotter and hotter. He tried to stand but he found he could not, paralysed by weakness. The heat turned to pain as it started to burn. Demetriov writhed, trying to ease the abhorrent sensation. He curled into a ball, all the time the pain growing. Incessant and unstoppable, it filled every corner of his body with searing agony. He tried to stifle his cry of pain in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut. Still the intensity of his torture grew, hot angry fire engulfing his skin and muscles. Flooding into his internal organs and searing his brain.

 

He opened his eyes screaming as the fiery pain blasted them from within. In the moment before his vision blurred he saw that Avéa was gone. Closing his eyes once more, lights flashed in the darkness behind his eyelids. The agony was beyond unbearable, unable to scream any more his throat was so tight. He longed to die; he would embrace death if only this torment would stop. In that moment, close to losing consciousness he heard footsteps approaching his cell. The guards had no doubt been alerted by his screams. They burst through the door as the pain reached a terrifying crescendo, his back arcing in uncontrollable spasm.

 

Then there was nothing. He lay there panting, reeling in the complete absence of sensation. The experience almost as intense as the agony he had just suffered. He opened his eyes and saw with a new clarity. Slowly he rolled onto his hands and knees and began to rise.

 

“Lord Wirrnächte?” The first guard asked.

 

“We heard screaming.” The second added hurriedly.

 

Demetriov was on his feet, his back to them. He brushed himself down and took a deep breath.

 

“Do not concern yourselves.” He replied. “I believe I am all right.”

 

With that he turned to face them, and could not miss their sharp intake of breath. Both men whispered words to ward off evil. It was at that moment Demetriov realised that he had to get out of there. It was obvious that both men saw something that scared them. Combine that with the screaming and no doubt they thought he was possessed. Perhaps they were not far wrong. Still, he had to get out and the only way was through them and out of that door.

 

He chose the smaller of the two and dived at him, throwing him to the wall with all of his strength. He gasped in amazement as he flew out of his hands faster than Demetriov could ever have imagined possible. The guard's head hit the wall with a sickening crack, the force of the impact splitting both his scalp and his skull wide open. His broken body slid slowly down the wall, leaving a trail of blood. Demetriov and his companion stood frozen by what had happened. Demetriov looked at the fatal injury he had caused, blood flowing freely from the obscene rent in fragile flesh. The sight awakened an intense desire in the pit of his stomach that flowed downwards into his groin and consumed his internal organs.

 

The second guard did not miss the sharp intake of breath that accompanied this rush of sensation and turned once more to Demetriov. He shook his head, his dismay plain to see.

 

“You… how?”

 

Demetriov saw the indecision, eyeing up the door behind him. The guard finally made his decision and went for Demetriov. Demetriov caught him easily, still surprised by his new-found strength. His captive tried to scream, but he clamped his hand across his mouth, his eyes on the open door. As his captive struggled he pressed his wriggling form against the wall. Slowly and deliberately he grasped the man's throat and squeezed. Guilty desire filled him once more, but he refused to grant his body's will. Tighter he squeezed, his captive gasping for air, clawing at the hands that were strangling him. With an audible pop Demetriov crushed the guard's windpipe, and with a final gasp his captive died.

 

Demetriov stood frozen horrified by what he had done. He looked about him, panicking at the deaths he had caused. The open door brought him to his senses. He had to escape. Hurriedly he dropped the second guard's body and ran out of the door. He took no heed of his surroundings, fleeing up the dungeon stairs. He did not pause as he flew through corridors and the entrance hall. He flew into the courtyard, aware of voices behind him; people had seen him fleeing He ran to the stables, the stable boy fleeing in alarm when he saw Demetriov.

 

Demetriov found his horse in the stables, but the voices of a crowd of people were drawing closer. Quickly he bridled his horse and mounted, the saddle would take too much time. His horse was frightened but he pushed him on. They fled into the forest, his steed flying like the wind. He had no idea where he was going, but anywhere seemed good right now. They galloped into the night, lit by the full moon. The rhythm of hoof beats filled his ears, the sound almost a comfort after the distressing events that had gone before.

 

It did not seem long before the trees had begun to thin and he came to a lake. He knew it well; he had visited it many times as a child. It lay on the outskirts of his lands. He hadn't been there for some time. He slowed his horse and drew it to a halt. He dismounted and patted the tired beast's flank. He had galloped like the wind for what must have been some time. This lake lay a good few hours ride from the castle. He walked to the water's edge and collapsed to his knees in despair.

 

“What has become of me?” He asked the night.

 

He knew the answer all too well. He was a killer. He was also a vampire. The reality of that dawned on him looking back on the events of the night. The look on their faces, the strength he had never possessed before. That deep and guilty craving at the sight of flowing blood. He couldn't bear to think of the horrific deaths he had caused. Utterly without mercy, for his own ends, he had taken their lives. The guilt threatened to swallow him. He heard soft footfalls behind him. He whirled around only to find Avéa stroking his horse.

 

“That was some escape Demetriov.”

 

“It's not like I had any choice.”

 

“True, but you didn't fight me when it came to it.”

 

Demetriov remembered that with considerable shame.

 

“Do not let it bother you. I do not think there is a single person in existence that has fought when the process has started.”

 

“That doesn't help.”

 

“But you must accept what has happened cannot be changed.”

 

“No. It cannot.” He replied ruefully.

 

She stepped up to him smiling softly. Demetriov was surprised at the softness of the smile; it was almost tender. He had never seen her like this before. He had only ever seen her as hard and cruel. She placed a hand on his shoulder. To his surprise it gave him some small comfort. He smiled weakly at her.

 

“What you do not realise is that you are now an amazing creature. Strong, almost nothing can harm you. Not only that, you are beautiful.”

 

“What?”

 

“You don't think I've always looked this way? I was a plain peasant girl with rags for clothes and matted hair. Being a vampire changes that. Take a look at yourself.” She pointed to the lake.

 

Demetriov stepped away from her pensively. He stepped out onto a slight overhang and dropped to his hands and knees. He leaned over to see his reflection in the still water. Moonlight framed his face, seeming incredibly bright. His now loose hair fell in silky curls. The pallor of his skin did not surprise him. He felt the canines in his mouth with his tongue. Yes they were long and sharp. Tentatively he drew back his lips from his teeth to see them, gleaming white in the darkness.

 

He took in all this with resignation but he wasn't ready for the shock that was his eyes. The pale blue of life had been replaced with an intense cobalt blue that absolutely shone in the night. They picked up every scrap of light and shimmered iridescently. They gave him a strange kind of beauty. Human, but not quite. It was this appearance that had scared the guards and marked him as one of the immortal undead. He could only wonder what Avéa had looked like before her change.

 

“So what happens now?”

 

“We sleep. The sun will rise soon and it is murder to any that stay out in it.”

 

“Where?”

 

“I have a place, I have prepared for you.”

 

Demetriov sneered.

 

“Of course. You have been plotting my downfall.”

 

“You may think like that now, but you will come around in time.”

 

He stepped towards his horse but Avéa stayed his progress.

 

“You will have to let him go. His prints will lead them straight to us. People will not rest with a demon on the loose.”

 

“Yes, I guess that is what I am.”

 

Sadly he stepped up to his steed, stroking his neck fondly. He nuzzled his nose into Demetriov's stomach. Demetriov smiled.

 

“I know old friend. Find your way home. They will look after you there.”

 

He slapped the animal's flank and his horse whinnied in reply before trotting off into the forest.

 

“Come.” Avéa said laying a hand on his shoulder as he looked into the forest, sadness in his eyes. “It is not far.”

 

So they walked. Demetriov barely took in his surroundings, overwhelmed by the sensitivity of his senses. The night was filled with a myriad of colours he never knew existed. There were smells he had never come across before. Sounds were amplified in a way he thought must hurt but never did. The sky began to lighten as the sun started to creep towards the dawn. The lighter it became the more tired Demetriov felt. His limbs were slowly becoming more and more leaden. Fortunately they did not have far to go.

 

On the outskirts of a settlement lay a small cottage. Wooden shutters covered the windows. Demetriov looked to the village anxiously but it was obvious there were no signs of people waking. It was to this cottage that they were heading. Avéa turned to him as they approached their resting place.

 

“It will do for now, but we will have to move soon. They will be looking for you.”

 

“Frankly, I am not surprised. Not after what I have done.”

 

“Traitor and murderer on the run.”

 

“You know, you sound like you think its fun.”

 

She laughed gently as she led him inside. As she shut the door it cut out all light. Despite this fact he could still see, his eyesight now extremely acute. He looked around to see blurred shapes, the lack of light still not allowing him to see accurately. Avéa struck tinder and lit a candle. The meagre amount of light revealed some poor furniture and two large chests at the end of the room. Both were solid and heavy and the size of a grown man.

 

“That is where we sleep. They block out any stray sunlight and prevent us harm. They are also very convenient for travel.”

 

She stepped up to the one nearest to them and opened the lid. He didn't need to see her beckon to walk over. Pensively he stepped in and lay down. He felt apprehension as Avéa closed the lid, but it only lasted a moment. An intense tiredness enveloped him and very soon he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

 

 

 

Author's notes:

Mwah ha ha haaaaaa! Demetriov is now a vampire! Step one toward my three central characters becoming mercilessly entangled with each other. If anyone spots any mistakes please do let me know. I have tried to be thorough in my proof reading but I am a mere mortal and am known to make mistakes. Anywho. Now the fun REALLY begins…