Vampire Hunter D Fan Fiction ❯ Innocent Souls ❯ Prolouge "Child Wraith" ( Prologue )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer:Vampire Hunter D is the property of its creator, Hideuki Kikuchi. I do not own D or any of the characters related to the novel series.

Author's Notes: After a two year hiatus from fan fiction for writing my first original novel, I return. The novel's done, and as I'm waiting for it to be proofed for me so I can edit it, I decided to write a fan fiction so I wouldn't go insane.

Rating: Mature. This story will feature violence, language, adult themes such as racism and ethnic cleansing, and sexual content.

Contact: All feedback is welcome at slayerbrat@yahoo.com

Innocent Souls

Prologue: Child Wraith

By: Elf

He screamed.

The little boy shrieked in pure, unadulterated terror. He stumbled backwards over a chair. He started to fall, but he twisted unnaturally nimbly and grabbed the desk in his room to pull himself up.

The boy looked up with huge eyes at the looming specter before him.

It was black, solid blackness and wide spread, reminding him of his father's cloak. It wavered by some unseen breeze. A pale, glowing, strangely beautiful hand with long, delicate fingers topped with nails like opals reached for him.

The boy stood there, collecting his fear. Part of his brain was shutting down, making way for a colder, predatory, more rational way of thought. The thing smelled odd, not bad, but the child's keen senses smelled ozone and juniper.

Magic, he was smelling magic thick on the air.

The wraith drifted towards him. The moonlight from the huge window behind the boy seemed to be sucked in by the creature's darkness. All save for that pale, glowing hand that stretched out.

The wraith gained a more humanoid shape and form as it approached. Its face was hidden by a hood as dark as the rest of him. There was a faint glimmer within that hood, like eyes.

“It's better if you do not resist me, child,” the wraith said in a soft, whispering voice before lunging at him.

The child rolled out of the thing's way. He sprang up to his feet and ran towards the door. He screamed, “Papa, Momma!” He ran surprisingly fast, but his room was too large and the wraith too fast.

It sprung in front of the boy, hovering slightly off the ground. It reached that hand towards him. The boy hissed instinctively and bared small, but rapidly growing fangs.

The door sprang open.

The wraith spun around and the boy stepped back. Standing in the doorway was a woman with long, tumbling chestnut curls haloed by the candle she held. Her sorrel colored eyes widened at the sight before her.

“Nae. Ye shall not have him,” the boy's mother hissed in her lilting accent. In her other hand she had her sword. It was a rapier with a shimmering blade and pale stones set into the hand guard. The candle lit the other side of her face, revealing a long, jagged scar running from her forehead, curving around her cheek, and ending at her chin.

The boy cried out, “Momma!”

“Cedric, get to your father,” Cedric's mother replied before rushing at the creature, her white night gown streaming behind her.

The wraith dodged from his mother's myriad of strikes. Cedric leapt over the chair and started to dart out of the room. He knew he shouldn't look back. If there was trouble, he was never to look back and only run.

Then he heard the scream.

Cedric's fangs throbbed as a sweet, coppery scent filled the room. He spun around to see that glowing hand sticking out through his mother's back. She coughed and red froth bubbled out of her mouth. She turned her head to look at Cedric.

“Run, Poppet, run,” she whispered before the thing jerked his hand out of his mother's body. Her scream echoed through Cedric's ears before she fell onto the ground like a broken butterfly. Blood colored her nightgown crimson and she stared ahead with glassy eyes as the wraith swept past her. The sword lay on the ground forgotten.

Cedric screamed as tears streamed down his face. The wraith laughed in its whispering voice and Cedric hated it. He focused on the hatred, let it bubble up and boil to the surface as the sweet smell overwhelmed him.

His tiny hands formed sharp claws. His dark sorrel eyes glowed crimson in the darkness. He bared long, sharp fangs and snarled at the wraith.

Then he sprung forward.

******

Lord Malcolm Blackmoure snarled in pain.

The noble vampire was being swarmed by countless winged humanoid creatures no higher than his knees. Some where bald as a babe, others sported long, stringy white hair that swayed with each movement. Their skins were the color of stone and their eyes glowed golden in the darkness. Their tiny hands ended in razor sharp claws, and their mouths were filled with sharp, pointed teeth unlike a shark's, all the same even size and serrated to get a better bite.

Their mouths and teeth tore ragged chunks of flesh and drew cold blood in crimson rivulets on the vampire's white skin. He heard Cedric's screams and snarled at the things trying to devour him. He jumped back and grabbed one.

He jerked it hard and its neck made a satisfying crack. He tossed it to the side before throwing another one into the wall. He hissed, “Do you think such lowly creatures could stop me from reaching my child?”

His fingernails grew into claws. He jabbed his hand through one of their skulls. The winged creature's skin felt like stone, but Blackmoure was now beyond the point of pain or reason. There was one desire on his mind as his fangs bared and his eyes glowed.

The thing twitched satisfactory on his hand. He tore into the creatures, scattering them apart. Then he took to the air when another of Cedric's screams broke the sounds of the things' inconsistent chatter.

He flew down the hallway, a blur of darkness.

As he flew closer to his child's room his eyes widened in horror as a familiar scent reached him.

No, no, no . . .

“Moira! Cedric!” the noble screamed as he touched down and threw open his child's bedroom door.

His beautiful, fierce Moira, the hunter that had come to kill him years ago, but had captured his heart instead, lay on the ground like a broken doll. Her white nightgown was crimson with her blood. Her scarred, beautiful face stared blankly up at the ceiling. Her sword lay beside her forgotten.

“No!” Blackmoure bellowed, causing the windows shake in grief.

Then he saw it.

It was hovering slightly off the ground, hunched over something. It was vaguely humanoid in shape with a head and seemed to be wearing a flowing cloak. Blackmoure saw a glowing, delicate hand clasping and unclasping his fingers over a very familiar curly black head.

Snarling, Blackmoure lunged himself at the wraith.

The thing turned and threw Cedric's limp body at him. Automatically, Blackmoure cradled the child close. The wraith laughed before spinning rapidly, becoming smaller and smaller until he was gone.

Blackmoure threw back his head and felt icy blood tears sting his eyes. He bit his lip and howled out in grief. He cradled Cedric to him as he fell to his knees.

A slow, easy sound filled Blackmoure's ears.

It was a soft, repeating beating rhythm beating slowly. Blackmoure's eyes widened as he looked down. Cedric's tiny chest rose and fell with each breath and his heart still beat.

However, those sorrel eyes looked at nothing, empty and blank as glass.