A few days passed and still the storm raged, keeping the three travelers inside Ryance’s dark castle. Ever since the travelers had shown up at the castle, Ryance hadn’t been killing regularly. Once again he held off the hunger pains for as long as he could. Vynera didn’t like this turn of events. This slowed down the production of more vampires, therefor slowing down her plans. There seemed to be a minor miscalculation on her part. While the curse did spread, it didn’t spread equally. Each successive ‘generation’ of vampire was weaker than the former. The vampires created by Ryance were similar to him in strength and mental capacity, but any further vampires were weaker and often ran on instinct only. Those that didn’t band together were easy prey for the vampire hunters.
Vynera knew she would have to do something soon. She depended on Ryance’s hunger and darker moods to reduce the population of the world until it was small enough to take over easily. To get Ryance to feed, she cast a spell on Ryance that drove him insane and caused him to obey his instinct to kill. It was a risky spell, but Vynera decided it was worth the drawbacks of losing Ryance entirely. It was true he had fallen fairly quickly once she squashed his hope, but the moment he felt hope again, he was just as quick to try and grab hold of it. She needed that hope to be crushed utterly, but simply killing the guests herself would only focus Ryance’s rage on her, not on himself or the world at large.
Struck with a hunger that defied reason, Ryance acted on an instinctual level. His mortal longing for Cesorpha translated into the darker thirst for her blood, and it was her scent he picked up first. During the height of the evening, when the impulse was strongest, he snuck into Cesorpha’s room. In his insanity, Ryance forgot to pull up his hood. At the sight of Ryance, Cesorpha screamed both from shock and fear, even before Ryance had a chance to bite her. But, that didn’t stop him; he didn’t have the presence of mind to resist. However, part of him was strong enough to nudge his focus away from the fatal vein, and he bit deeply into her shoulder instead.
Alarmed by the scream, Klarn and Larxer exited their respective rooms and rushed into Cesorpha’s chamber. Seeing the danger he was in, but unable to throw off his predator’s mentality, Ryance caught up Cesorpha in his arms and headed for the window with her. Klarn and Larxer gasped at the sight of Ryance, but none of them connected him to their humble host. Larxer’s immediate reaction was to draw a weapon, but he only had a dagger on him.
“Ryance! How dare you do such a thing to the one who loved you!” said Klarn, half angrily, half sorrowfully. He had never been entirely certain that Ryance had gone bad, but now he felt there was no other option. Ryance, hearing is name, felt his insanity waver. Deep down, he felt a stab of guilt for what he was about to do. Giving Klarn a look of regret, he jumped out the window with Cesorpha cradled against his chest, half lovingly, half possessively. Quickly he disappeared into the forest that surrounded his castle.
When the predator inside him felt secure enough, Ryance returned to the wound on Cesorpha’s shoulder. She had already passed out from the shock, both mentally and physically, so she was very quiet and still. Taking his time, he savored the taste of her blood; something about it soothed the howling inside his mind. Despite this, he was greedy for the taste, but he didn’t kill Cesorpha; even his insanity couldn’t make him do that. Once he was done, he returned the unconscious Cesorpha to her bed. Then he hid away in the darkest depths of his castle, his insanity gone and grief taking its place.
Meanwhile, Klarn and Larxer had searched the area for signs of Ryance or Cesorpha. Finding none, they reluctantly returned to the castle. To Klarn’s surprise, and relief, he found Cesorpha in her bed, moaning and tossing her head on her pillow. He was glad she was alive, but her pitiful sounds and pale complexion troubled him. He called for his host. When he heard the call, Ryance was reluctant to go. He didn’t feel he could face Klarn or Larxer again. Nor did he want to see the damage he had done to Cesorpha, the person he loved. The call came again. Ryance put on his hood and returned to Cesorpha’s room, each step feeling heavier than the next.
“What happened?” he asked, alarmed, upon seeing Cesorpha. He only pretended ignorance, but his sorrow and concern were real. Cesorpha looked pale and weak, even more so under the warmer light of the torches. Ryance hated that he was at fault, hated that he couldn’t do anything about it.
“She was assaulted by a vampire, Ryance to be exact. I doubt she can live through this,” said Klarn, trying to hide his fear and failing. His hand was on his sister’s forehead, pushing red strands of hair out of her eyes. Death alone would be traumatizing enough, but, if she rose as a vampire, he wasn’t sure if he would have the heart to kill her a second time. That doubt ate at him, but he pushed it down as far as he could.
“There may be hope if we are diligent and cautious. If the vampire attacks no more, there is a chance she will live,” said Ryance gravely. He had never spared someone he drank from before, but he wasn’t insensible to what other vampires did; some of them were less angry, or less thirsty, than he was. Other vampires, more careless than he was, were caught and killed in the act before their victims were beyond saving. Word of survivors had reached his ears, from time to time, though such cases were uncommon, and often these people were shunned by the population. Still, he knew it was possible. Whether it was likely, however, he had no way to tell.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Why didn’t you tell us there were vampires around here?” demanded Larxer, who had just entered the room, not bothering to knock.
“I believe I did. I distinctly mentioned there were many evil creatures around here. Besides, you were the ones who told me you had been hunting vampires; I could only assume that you were aware that they had spread throughout the land.” He could barely hold in his contempt. “You should have protected yourselves better,” retorted Ryance. He regretted not killing Larxer when he had the chance.
He turned to Klarn, determined to ignore Larxer unless it was necessary to do otherwise. “Garlic broth will help some. I’ve seen it do wonders. She’ll also need lots of rest. I’ll move her into an inner room where there are no windows. That will stop attacks from the outside,” said Ryance. “Feel free to move into one next to her. In fact, I would advise you to do so.” Then he sat next to the bed where Cesorpha lay. “How do you feel?” asked Ryance, his voice low and so gentle he surprised himself. This angered Larxer, but Klarn gave him a look that told him to be still. Reluctantly Larxer held his tongue.
“I saw Ryance. He was so rough; his eyes were so empty, like he was hardly there anymore. I.. I think I blacked out. My neck hurts, and I’m so very tired,” said Cesorpha weakly. She sounded like a little child who had woken up from a terrible nightmare. In a way, she had, but this nightmare was real, and might have cost her life.
“We’re going to make you some broth. You may not like the way it tastes, but it should help you get better. I need you to drink it all up,” Ryance said, keeping his voice soft and low, not making any sudden movements or increase in volume.
“You’re so kind, just like Ryance was long ago. Why can’t I see your face?” asked Cesorpha absently. Ryance looked at her in alarm; why would she want to see his face, if he reminded her of the very person who hurt her? Even though they were one and the same, Ryance saw no evidence that any of his three guests suspected his identity.
“I’m afraid, my dear lady, that the sight would not be to your liking,” he said sadly, delivering the truth in a deceptive fashion. “Now I’m going to move you to a safer room. Can you put your arms around my neck?” It was difficult, being so close to her, especially since it mimicked the earlier attack, but Ryance knew he deserved to feel the shame that coiled painfully in his chest. It couldn’t come close to all the penance that he must pay.
“I think so.” Cesorpha lifted her weak arms and wrapped them around Ryance’s neck. Carefully Ryance lifted Cesorpha off the bed. He carried her to a nice room deep inside the castle. Klarn followed behind them, both to carry Cesorpha’s belongings, and to keep close to his sister. Not that he distrusted the man he believed to be a servant, exactly, but he didn’t care to take the risk.
“Do you have any silver with you?” Ryance asked. He wanted to make sure he couldn’t endanger her life anymore.
“Yes, in my cloak pocket.” Ryance rummaged around in the cloak. His hand touched something cold, round, and smooth, but the chill didn’t last long before he felt a burning pain. He grasped the object and it quickly began searing into his palm. He winced in pain, but managed to pull out the medallion.
“What’s wrong?” asked Cesorpha, seeing Ryance’s body flinch in pain.
“Just a twinge in my wrist; nothing to be concerned about.” Ryance dismissed the issue as he handed her the medallion, carefully so she wouldn’t see the mark that had burned into the flesh. “Hang that around your neck and never take it off. It should protect you,” said Ryance. With that he left, bumping into Larxer in the hallway.
“Well?” Larxer impatiently demanded of Ryance. Although the question was extremely vague, Ryance could only conclude that he meant one thing: he was asking about Cesorpha. But he couldn’t detect any hint of actual concern for the woman he had once pursued. It sounded more like Larxer was looking for an excuse to pick a fight. Ryance was tempted to provide him with one.
“If she isn’t attacked again, she has a high chance to live; she’s weak now, but that’s to be expected. The fact that she’s able to speak and recall information is a good sign. However, I am highly allergic to garlic, so I can’t make the broth myself. One of you will have to do it. Luckily for the girl, I have some garlic in the cupboard.”
“How do you know so much about vampires and their victims?” His voice was blatantly accusatory; it could not be mistaken for a simple inquiry born of curiosity.
“Listen, I have seen more dying vampire victims around here than you ever will. The towns around here are full of terrified citizens and the ailing victims of vampires, so I think I should know about them,” said Ryance defensively. The question caused his guilt to bubble up within him; he had seen so much because he caused it. Larxer’s suspicious tone and attitude would have bothered even the humble servant he pretended to be, so he didn’t feel as though he were betraying himself.
“I’ll make the broth, just show me how,” said Klarn, interrupting before the tension could build too much between Larxer and their host. Turning away from the belligerent Larxer, Ryance led Klarn down to the kitchen and instructed him on how to make the broth. Ryance had gotten the recipe from the blind woman. He had seen it work on his victims; although he had killed many of them deliberately, some had simply been left for dead. And, as much as Ryance had told himself he didn’t care about his victims, he almost never forgot a face.
Soon the broth was done and Ryance went to his room, leaving Klarn to take the broth to his sister. He didn’t feel like putting up with Larxer any more. He knew that Cesorpha was in good hands. Klarn nursed his sister skillfully. Cesorpha’s health improved over time, though it seemed painfully slow at first. The three travelers saw very little of Ryance during this time. He knew that Larxer would constantly make rude remarks and act like he was in charge of everything; the mix of anger combined with the temptation of blood made being in his presence almost intolerable. Whenever Larxer did see Ryance, he insulted him every time he spoke. Ryance only bit his tongue and played humble.