John watched Hailwic’s jaws work on Peter’s throat.

He wanted to cross himself as he’d been taught to do to ward off evil. But his arms wouldn’t move. They felt like dead weights at his side.

Hailwic, blonde hair matted with mud. Face streaked with Peter’s fountaining blood. Stared back at him across the twitching corpse. Her eyes blank and bereft of expression.

Like a snake, he thought. A reptile’s cold unfeeling gaze.

As she drained the life from a boy who’d never harmed a single living thing for as long as John could remember.

He could feel Vasilja floating behind him, her arms around his neck. Hands draping his sternum but not quite touching skin.

She’d taken his coat and thrown it away. Thrown the rest of his clothes into the wagon. Left him to shiver naked in the cold.

He knew he should be afraid.

Knew he should be screaming. He could hear George screaming from somewhere in the forest. Screaming like the crazy one was tearing him apart.

And a distant part of him knew that’s exactly what she was doing.

Vasilja rested her head on top of his and sighed.

“Senka’s having so much fun,” she whispered. “Don’t you think, John? Do you think she’s enjoying herself with your friend? With George?”

John swallowed. A dry swallow.

Nodded. “Yes.”

“Hmm.” She stroked his cheek, Her fingers seeming to feel each bristle one by one. “She’s very impulsive, you know. She hasn’t got much patience. I don’t think it will be long before George stops screaming. He didn’t look like he was very strong, and she does need someone strong to keep her interest.”

Pop of something pulled from its socket. Sharp crack. Splinter of bone.

Wet tear of flesh.

Arm?

He shuddered at the thought.

Or leg.

Visions of unholy butchery danced through his mind on vivid sprays of crimson blood.

He heaved, wanting to vomit.

But Vasilja held him upright. “Now, John. Be calm. Be still. There’s no need to feel anything at all for your friend, is there? I know you were jealous of him anyway, weren’t you? He was getting between us, wasn’t he? Between you and I?”

He remembered the flash of hate he’d felt.

And that hate seemed to burn inside his chest again. A bright fire which made him draw his own lips into a snarl. “I would’ve killed him!”

“Well. Now he’s dead. And that means there’s more time for us to play together, isn’t there?”

There was a fog threading his mind.

He could feel it thickening.

Haunting him.

He knew it shouldn’t be there. Knew he should fight it.

But her voice was honey. And she was so beautiful. He wanted to turn around. Look at her. Wanted it more than anything in the world.

Hailwic’s baleful stare remained on him. Unblinking.

He nodded. “I’m yours, Lady.”

“Are you?” Purring of a giant cat. “Are you really, John? What is it you want? Do you want to please me? Is that what you want?”

Strangled gasp; “Yes!”

“I like when people want to please me, John.”

She slid her arms free and he felt an aching sense of loss.

But then she drifted like smoke, sliding in front of him. Bright red lips curving perfection.

His heart hammered its crippled rhythm and he wanted to fling himself at her. Wrap his arms around and squeeze.

Squeeze himself into her.

If only she’d tell him to do so, he’d do it. Without hesitation.

He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth as her eyes slid up and down his naked body.

Mocking eyes shamed him deep as she said; “Well, I can see you at least want to please yourself.”

Then she turned away and glided to where Hailwic lay across Peter. The blonde vampire watched Vasilja’s approach the same way a wolf might watch its rival.

Hailwic took another long leeching inhale and opened her jaws. Lifted her head, drooling thick lines of red from her chin as Vasilja smiled.

“How does he taste, Hailwic?”

Hailwic wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her fist. “It will do until we reach Vienna.”

Sound of flesh striking flesh.

Both vampires turned to the sound. Vasilja sighed. “It’s probably a good thing they broke my coffin. She was becoming unbearable. She really needed to bite someone, and we haven’t been through any decent villages in at least a week.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“What are you doing with these two?”

“John and Dimiti? Well, I haven’t finished with John. I think it’s only fair that I get to bite someone, too, isn’t it?”

Hailwic grunted. “You’re wasting time, then.”

“Am I? I like to think I have patience, sister. I sometimes think I’m the only one who does.”

John didn’t understand what they were saying. Knew they were talking about him, though.

His cheeks flushed red and he endured Hailwic’s open stare.

Even when she dipped her head to lick at Peter’s torn throat one more time.

“One of your pets should hitch the wagons, Vasilja,” she said. “We shouldn’t stay here for too long. If the locals find the bodies, they’ll know what’s happened.”

“They won’t find anything. Dimiti will make sure of it. Won’t you, Dimiti?” She reached a hand to the old man, who stumbled through the mud and took it. “You’ll bury the bodies, won’t you? And then hitch the wagons?”

Jealous rage made John let out a canine growl as Vasilja wound her fingers through Dimiti’s own.

Like a lover.

“But they’re my wagons,” he managed to rasp. “Mine. I can serve you better than he can. I’m younger, ain’t I? I’m younger, Lady. I can give you more!”

“More?” She turned the word thoughtfully across her tongue. “I know very well what you’d like to give me, John. And I have to say it doesn’t interest me even a little bit. Besides, Dimiti is much more experienced with these roads. Aren’t you, Dimiti?”

“Yes, Lady,” the old man said. Tone empty and void of emotion. “I know every inch. I’ve been travelling since I was born. My ma and pa were Travelers, you see. We have Romani in our blood. I was bonded to the road. It’s why John hired me.”

“But he’s right about one thing, Dimiti. You are old. You even have wrinkles. I don’t really like wrinkles on a man. They remind me of what it’s like to age. And I never want to grow old. Do you know how old I am, Dimiti?”

“No, Lady.”

“I am over three hundred years. Would you believe that?”

“No!” Fierce denial made the old man’s eyes flash with emotions he’d been missing. “That can’t be! Why, you look so young. And too beautiful. You can’t be that.”

She reached out and cupped his rugged face in both hands. Giggled. “You’re a precious man, Dimiti. Very precious. Now, I need you to do something special for me. Would you?”

“Of course. You know I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“I know.” She lifted her wrist closer to his mouth. Touched a sharp nail to skin and drew a thin line of red. Ignored his gasp and pressed it closer toward his mouth. “I want you to drink a little bit of my blood. Not too much. I’ll tell you when to stop and then you must stop. Do you understand?”

John shook with anger.

Wanted to rampage across the mud and fling the old man down.

Strangle him with bare hands. Beat him to the ground. Rip his face off. Tear his head from his neck.

Dimiti nodded. Licked his lips and moved closer to the cut.

Paused just above. Looked at her. A puppy to its mistress.

She nodded. “Go on, Dimiti. You can do it. It’s not very hard at all. And it will make you feel so much better about everything. I promise.”

He drank.

And, from the mountains, thunder called to the heavens to witness.

But only the Devil was watching. Of this, John knew for certain. His addled mind could almost smell the rot of brimstone and sin.

“Lady…” John closed his eyes.

He couldn’t bear to see Dimiti’s lips touching her perfect skin. She wasn’t meant to be touched by folk like Dimiti. His kind were hardly better than dogs.

But John?

His family was rich.

Sure, they weren’t all rich right now. His uncle had most of the fortune held in his greedy fingers.

But John would be rich again someday. Besides this, his great-grandfather had been of noble blood. A Duke, it was said. In every way, he was a better man than Dimiti.

Every single way.

It should have been him standing there kissing her arm.

The growl in his throat continued.

When he opened his eyes, Dimiti was standing apart, fingers to his mouth. Eyes shining. Staring at Vasilja with reverence and awe.

“I’ll kill you,” John snarled between teeth. “Fucking kill you. You don’t deserve her. You’re just a fucking gypsy. You’re filth. Slime.”

But Dimiti wasn’t listening.

The old man swayed, mesmerized.

Vasilja floated toward John, turning slightly as she approached. Reached back to Dimiti and crooked a slender finger at the old man. “Dimiti? Would you come here, please?”

“Yes, Lady.” Voice firmer.

Something in him had changed.

John could see it in the way the old man walked.

He’d always had the hint of a limp. And had often kept a hand to his hip. It ached more in Winter, Dimiti had told him.

But now he walked with the easy stride of a youth.

The lines across leathered cheeks looked shallow. Less defined.

And his eyes had lost the smoky haze of a man who’d seen too much. They were wider now. More open than they’d been before. Bright and alert.

What gift had she given him? He didn’t deserve it.

Fury belted John across the gut.

“Kill you, Dimiti,” John spat. He writhed, pulling at invisible chains which kept him locked in place.

“Do you like the gift I’ve given you, Dimiti? Does it make you happy?”

“Aye, I feel young. Like I was just born all over again. I’ve had this awful pain in my shoulder this past few days. And it’s gone. My knee. It bends proper. Even my hip doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“You’ll be able to hitch the wagons on your own, now. And hopefully you can move the coffin back without breaking it this time.”

“Aye, I’ll do my best, Lady. Really, I will.” Looked to where the coffin lay open. Eager to please. “You want me to shift it up now?”

“No, Dimiti. Not yet. First I want you to help me kill John.”

John struggled to get loose. Suddenly frantic. His eyes captured hers and he almost howled. “But, Lady! I’m better than he is. And they’re my wagons. Mine! I paid for them. You can’t take them. You can’t do this to me, Lady. Please, I beg you. I can serve you better than he can. Serve you better than anyone. And I want to. I want to serve you. Can’t you see?”

“Dimiti? He’s talking an awful lot.”

“Aye, Lady. He always was one for talk.”

“You have a knife, don’t you?”

The old man nodded. “Aye.”

“Is it sharp? Do you keep it sharp?”

“Aye. It’s sharp alright. A knife is no good to a man if it’s got a dull edge.”

“Then I want you to use it. I want you to cut out John’s tongue.”

Dimiti whipped the knife free of its sheath on his hip. Looked from the steel to the terrified eyes of his friend. Hesitated. “Like, all the way out, or just a little?”

Vasilja floated up behind Dimiti and wrapped her arms around his chest. Pressed her cheek against the back of his shoulder and purred. “You know, Dimiti. I always said if you are going to do a job, you ought to do it properly. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, Lady.”

Dimiti’s gnarled old hands grabbed hold of John’s jaw. Firm.

No hesitation at all.

“No,” John croaked. Tried to shake his head loose. Couldn’t. “Dimiti. Please don’t do this.”

“Best you stay still, John. It’ll be a lot easier on you if you stay still.”

He opened his mouth to scream, but Vasilja reached out across Dimiti and touched a fingertip to his lips. The frozen touch stole his breath and left him silent. “I thought you said you wanted to please me, John. That’s what you said, wasn’t it? Did you lie to me?”

“No! I’d never lie to you, Lady.”

“Then, please me. Let Dimiti remove your tongue.”

John felt the rush of horror slide through his body like a gelatinous ghost.

Shudders shook his spine.

As with terror shrieking inside his skull, he opened his mouth.

Stuck out his tongue.

And did little more than sob as Dimiti sawed it free.

Blood gushed across the old man’s hands.

Vasilja’s eyes narrowed into tight little slits as she moved around the old man’s working arms. Her hands pressed lightly against John’s bare chest. Sliding through rough patches of hair and rivers of blood now pouring down from his mouth.

She started at his belly and worked her way up, tongue scooping his blood and swirling it between her teeth.

Swallow.

Until she came to his chin.

His mouth.

Which she kissed, melting his fear into a lassitude of acceptance and relief.

A kiss he’d waited so long to receive.

She withdrew a little, eyes burning like coal embers. Her tongue wiped her lips.

Clean.

Pure.

She sucked a small breath.

“You see, John? It’s so much better for you if you please me.”

He nodded.

Couldn’t say anything.

His mouth was on fire. Agony kept his jaw hanging loose.

She was killing him. He knew that. And he’d never been more satisfied than when her mouth reached for his neck.

And then never more horrified as her fangs bit deep.

His final scream was that of an animal.

Guttural and wet.

It didn’t last long.