Two black shapes moved through the dense foliage of the forest just outside the mountain town of Lunestra. They pursued a thin man with dark hair and strange eyes that were fully black except for the radiant red-ringed irises. Eyes that weren’t normal to most people, but to these werewolves meant he was their mortal enemy.
A Crimson Vampire.
Something to despise ever since their inception long ago. And while this feud had been going on since antiquity, it had been reinvigorated by a small group of Crimson Clan supporters that wanted to change things to the ways of the old Crimson Clan Regime.
Well, these werewolves would not have any of that as they wanted to maintain peace and order even if the human beings they protected in the secrets of the shadows and during midnight hours would want to destroy them after learning the truth as human beings often want to kill what they fear instead of facing the reason for it.
The man stumbled and fell against the gravely and broken remnants of a crumbling castle that once was perhaps the personal residence of a noble back in the days when the Crimson Clan and Crescent Clan battled for dominion over the Mainland. Another thing long forgotten by humans, replaced by written word, illusion, and magic to protect them from the truth.
The man moved into the building, the light of the moon offsetting the darkness in an eerie and silent ambience. The shapes moved after him, stepping into the light of the moon as they revealed their menacing black werewolf forms, stalking forward and descending on him slowly to either side. One of the werewolves was larger than the other, bulky with rippling muscles; while the other was slenderer and curvier, but not for lack of tone.
Stepping backward, the man thought over his odds. While taking on one was perhaps a possibility for him, taking on two was not a winning proposition. He couldn’t outrun them, so perhaps a close quarters fight would work. He looked from one werewolf to the other.
“P-please,” he said, lifting his hands in a pleading gesture. “Just let me go. You don’t have to do this.”
The werewolves stalked forward cautiously, both letting out low snarls as they kept their eyes on him. He glanced from the werewolves to an opening that perhaps was once a large window, thinking of diving through it and running, but he’d easily be tracked or run down. He couldn’t match a werewolf’s speed, even with his own augmented agility.
“You killed our friends,” the bigger werewolf said in a low masculine voice. “You’ve killed innocents. Did you let them go?”
The man shook his head, his lip quivering. “I don’t want to die.”
The slender, curvy werewolf spoke in a feminine voice, giving a slight smile. “You were never really fully alive, anyways.”
The werewolves pounced on him, and as they bounded through the air, something odd happened. Some sort of shift that made things seem to move in slow motion for a moment, then the two of them tumbled forward as if moving through time and space, rolling against the ground of a room of blackness. They each came to a knee and looked around the darkness, their senses sharp and alert as they both snarled. The forest and moonlight and castle ruins had all but disappeared.
“We’re triggered a hex,” the bulky werewolf said as he looked around with concern.
The slender werewolf clenched her teeth. “Should’ve known they’d have a magician helping them. We got careless.”
“I can’t believe we missed the trigger point,” the bulky werewolf said.
“Doesn’t matter now,” the slender werewolf said. “Keep your wits about you.”
They moved back-to-back, both looking around, cautious and alert.
there was a long silence that eventually gave into the sound of echoing footsteps from the darkness, along with slow clapping. It was the same man with red-ringed irises. The Crimson Vampire that was pleading for his life before now had a satisfied smirk, his face sadistic and joyful. “Bravo, you two. You almost had me.” He looked different. In control, fierce, and proud as he spoke. “I think you two have lost your touch. I mean, the Crescent Clan taught you to never assume a Crimson Vampire works alone, right?”
“Don’t mock us,” the female werewolf snapped.
“We killed your companions,” the male werewolf said. “And we’ll kill you too, magic or not.”
“Oh?” The Crimson Vampire said with a tilt of his head and snap of his fingers.
Chains shot from darkness, moving on them with quick precision.
“Mary, look out,” the male werewolf said, pushing her out of the way, making it so the chains latched onto his wrists and ankles, pulling him taut as they restrained even his mighty werewolf movements. As the chains pulled his arms and legs out into an x formation, he tried to fight it, crying out in agony as they stretched him to the point of tearing him apart.
The Crimson Vampire smiled with deliciousness, tilting his head with an admiration. “You werewolves are resilient things, aren’t you? But not unbreakable.” He lifted his hand and was about to snap his fingers again.
“No, please stop,” the female werewolf pleaded. “What do you want?”
The Crimson Vampire, holding his hand steady, turned to her with a wicked smile and a low voice of concern. “We want you, my dear. Kindly come to me and I shall release your companion.” The vampire’s eyes seemed to glow brighter at the prospect of this outcome, and as he lowered his hand, the chains also loosened a bit, and the male werewolf let out a grunt of pain, his head bowed with exhaustion. “All of his pain can go away if you come to me.”
She hesitated for a moment, looking from her partner to the vampire, then slowly began to make her way over.
“Don’t… do it… Mary,” came the exhausted breathes of the male werewolf. “He’s going to kill us either way. Don’t give him the satisfaction of using his Connection on you and –”
The vampire snapped his fingers, and the chains tightened on the male werewolf again, this time pulling him back to his restrained position and he yelped in pain.
She stopped in place, looking at the vampire, wondering about these words.
“Don’t worry,” the vampire said in a reassuring tone. “I will let him go. You have my word. Only if you come to me, though.”
“Don’t,” gasped the male werewolf.
She nodded. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
She stopped, searching for a way out of this, then met the vampire’s eyes. “If you let him go, I’ll do as you say, you have my word.”
The word of a supernatural being, even though it had been broken in the past, was a powerful thing. He had given his, and she had given hers. So, it was pertinent to take this as good as they could get, even in their particular predicament.
The vampire considered, then nodded. He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. The chains unhooked, and the werewolf fell to the ground in a heap of coughing and breaths of exhaustion. After a moment, he leapt into action, a resilient beast with powers beyond measure. But as he flung himself at the vampire, snarling with intensity to kill, the vampire simply smiled, and the male werewolf vanished in a puff of magical dust. The vampire adjusted his well-fitted suit, then looked to Mary with outstretched arms. “There, he has been returned to that barren castle. I have fulfilled my end, now you fulfill yours and come to me.”
She felt herself shiver at the prospect of being so close to him, of being taken in by his cold being, of… things that would happen after that, especially in her human form, but nodded and hesitantly made her way over to him.
“Uh-uh,” he said, lifting a warning finger to her. “Be a good girl and transform back first. Then, come to me.”
She gulped and nodded, focusing her attention on her human side. Her body began to shift shape back into a womanly form. Once the transformation was done, she felt naked standing there in her adaptive outfit that clung to her body. While it was a durable and flexible material, it was thin, and she felt herself flushed with embarrassment.
“Come here,” he said, motioning to her.
And she did.
When she came within grasp, he reached out to her, grabbing her and pulling her to him, restraining her with his strength which was unmatched as she was not fully transformed anymore, even if she was stronger than a human. He stood behind her, one hand tilting her neck, the other one forcefully bending one of her arms behind her back as he pushed himself into her, moving his nose along her neck as he took in her scent.
“I don’t normally drink the blood of werewolves,” he whispered in a delighted and horrible deliciousness against her neck. “But you, my dear, smell wonderful. So, I think I’ll take a taste.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“But first,” he said, tilting her head so her eyes met his. “I must know something.” Those red-ringed eyes felt like a burning fire as he gazed upon her, probing her with his Connection. There was little she could do to resist, feeling like a hanging piece of cloth in the whipping wind. She convulsed for a moment, unable to look away, not just because he was forcefully holding her, but because it felt oddly good to be pulled into those piercing red-ringed, radiant irises behind the pitch darkness that all Crimson Vampires shared.
She felt her mind – her visions, her past, present, future, and her emotions – being invaded and taken as this vampire’s Connection was powerful.
“Good girl,” the vampire said with a savory smile as he took her in with his Connection, getting everything he needed and wanted, tracing his finger along the skin of her neck, feeling his anticipatory breaths and animalistic nature grow at the prospect of taking her blood.
“Now, onto better things,” he said, opening his mouth to reveal his fangs and biting her neck, sucking her lifeblood from her.
“Uh,” she uttered, her body jerking as she let out little groans as she weakly tried to push him back, to fight, but then they just fell limply to her side, like a dying animal in the jaws of a predator. She winced as her eyes twitched and turned about wildly as she whimpered like a small girl that feared the dark. Then, a warm rush of pleasure moved over her body that made her moan and hug him, pushing her hips against his as if she wanted more, her eyes glossing over with the delighted passivity of an addict indulging in sin. Her shuddering moans along with the arching of her back and leaning of her body into his pleased the vampire.
When he pulled away, she let out a whimpering cry much like a baby being separated from its mother. “Oh my,” he said with eyes alight and a little satisfied chuckle, wiping his mouth of her warm blood. “That was wonderful, my dear.” He let go of her, and she slowly slid to the ground, weakly gripping against his clothes and body without the strength to stop herself. She felt her body shudder and yearn for more as her lip quivered and her arms moved up to grab him with no strength in them but that of her dying desire.
As the seconds passed, she began to shiver and shake as if an icy chill had come upon her, curling into the fetal position. The vampire leaned down and smiled, brushing strands of hair out of her face and whispering. “Thank you for your service, my dear.”
He brandished a purple-bladed dagger from his body, twirling it in his hand and admiring it for a moment as he traced a soft hand against her cheek. He plunged the knife into her heart. She jerked as the tip pierced her, then groaned with wide eyes as the blade penetrated her chest and tore through her heart in that quick, striking motion. Her weak eyes looked to the vampire with the innocence of a fearful child, pleading for him to stop, but as he twisted the dagger, just like his twisted smile, a crunching noise resounded, and the light in her eyes faded.
“Yes, let the end embrace you, my dear,” he said in a low whisper as he held his eyes on her and felt her body become limp as she died.
And then, she was gone.
He pulled the dagger from her lifeless body and licked warm blood from its blade in slow, sensual motions. “It is a shame,” he said, frowning down at her. “You would have made a wonderful pet.” She couldn’t hear him, of course, but he continued anyway. “But there are things in store for Lunestra that we cannot have you interfering with anymore.”
He stood, leaving her lifeless, wide-eyed form staring up at the darkness as he disappeared into the expanse of magical blackness that had ensnared her.
. . .
The male werewolf fell on his face, jumping up immediately to look around, frantic in his movements. “Mary, Mary? Where are you?” He was bewildered for a moment. Then, as he blinked his eyes thinking he was mad, he was able to bring himself back as he realized he had been released from the hex trap, which was a dizzying thing to go through. He looked around to the familiar site that was the castle ruins he was in before. Only him, though. “No,” he said in a low whisper of defeat.
He turned as a voice came from the darkness. “Sarah’s gone, my friend.” It was that Crimson Vampire they were supposed to kill, moving into the light of the like a shadow of death, a sinister smile on his newly vibrant face which meant only one thing – he had taken Mary’s blood. He felt his fury break loose.
“Bastard,” the male werewolf said, spinning on him and snarling, hatred in his eyes.
“Oh, my,” the vampire said, feigning a shiver as he placed a hand over his heart. “That rage, that fury. If only Ginga could see you now.” He smiled and snapped, stepping backward toward an opening in the ruins, moving in and out of darkness and light that pierced the building through the surrounding trees. Two hulking werewolves with gray fur came into the light, descending upon the male werewolf. He spread his arms as he stood between them. “I present you the same odds you were going to give me. Two against one.”
The male werewolf prepared himself, his eyes staying on the cursed Crimson Vampire as he disappeared into the darkness of the night before saying, “Farewell, friend.”
“I’m not your friend,” the male werewolf snarled as he thought about lunging after the vampire and taking him out even if it meant his own life. It wasn’t worth it, as he had to focus with all he had to try to beat these odds, and so he leveled his eyes on the two gray werewolves stalking toward him with low growls and hungry eyes.
“We don’t have to do this.” He thought he’d try and reason with the beasts, even though he knew – and saw – that the gray werewolves had given into their own Beast Minds, their own madness, their animalistic nature with glossed over and maddened eyes. There was also the ongoing bitter blood feud since the time of the Crimson War. And bad blood even lingered to this day.
“You look tasty,” one of them said in a low, guttural voice, looking like it hadn’t eaten in a long time, saliva dripping from its snout, its crazy eyes zoned in on the male werewolf.
“Yes, very,” the other one said in a similar beastly tone. This one also had a scar over one of crazed eyes.
Typical of gray werewolves to give into the Beast Mind and let it run the show, the male werewolf thought, which doubly reminded him of why Grays were so dangerous. They had probably been held captive by that Crimson Vampire to the point of starvation, which was also typical of Crimson Vampires. They could never be trusted.
Either way, he was in trouble as this was probably his end. But he wouldn’t go without a fight, and so he charged, unleashing his full battle rage as he cried out, and they met him with ferocious intent.
The fight didn’t last long, and while he gave a valiant effort, he was quickly subdued, falling to a knee after one of his arms was ripped from its socket, his body beaten and torn to a bloody pulp with scratches and bites and tears all over. He knelt there, teetering on the edge of passing out, his strength failing him.
One of the grays moved forward with a satisfied grin. “It’s time to eat.”
The male werewolf was unable to hold them back, and they quickly descended upon him, knocking and pinning him to the ground. They devoured his flesh and being and essence, blood flying from the massacre as they tore and bit and destroyed. He cried out in agony, until one final snapping noise was heard from a pair of jaws biting into his throat in a crunching motion. The only thing left was the snarling and snapping of jaws and squelching of flesh as it was torn from body and devoured. Eventually, they couldn’t keep to themselves, and turned on one another, snapping and clawing at each other with bloodied snouts, each of them wanting full reign over the fresh flesh. This is what happened when the Beast Mind took control.
As they fought over the meat, they were interrupted by a whistle as the same vampire came out from the darkness accompanied by a figure in a red hooded cloak.
“Gentleman,” the vampire said, extending each word as if he was talking to civilized beings. “Your fight is not with each other.”
They didn’t stop, and so the man snarled with anger, his red-ringed eyes becoming radiant as he yelled. “Stop this at once you pathetic mutts or you will both be nailed to a stake and burned to death.”
They stopped and turned with little whines as if being scolded by their master, finding a semblance of sanity as they cowered and moved to their knees, looking down to the ground, a mixture of blood and guts and saliva dripping from their snouts.
After realizing he had lost his cool, he smoothed his well-fitted suit, then rubbed a hand against his forehead, muttering to himself. “Ginga, save me.” His smile returned as he let out a little sigh. “When you are done… devouring him, I expect you to return to the manner, or else this will be your last meal. Understand?”
They both let out obedient grunts, then moved into action, turning to the male werewolf’s mangled, lifeless body and exposed ribcage, and continued to devour flesh. The vampire turned and ushered the cloaked figure outside, moving into the brightness of the full moonlight.
The figured pulled back its hood, giving light to a beautiful woman with flowing green hair and pink feline eyes. Her skin cast a radiance of its own, pale like the light of the moon, and her ears were slightly pointed at the top.
“Werewolves are such mangy things,” the vampire said with a disdainful tone. “They have their uses, though.” He turned to the woman, and smiled. “Now, where were we?”
She opened hand, lifting it to him, her face expressionless. “My dagger?”
He revealed the purple-bladed dagger, holding it out in front of him in an admiring fashion. “The Elysium dagger that Agatha Ashland once wielded.” He held it out to her, and as she reached for it, he playfully pulled it back, which made her frown deepen, as she despised games. “A Great Weapon of Power,” he continued, his eyes admiring her as well as the dagger. “A one of a kind, much like yourself.” Her face darkened as she narrowed her eyes in an unpleased fashion.
“One day,” he said with a shrug and a smile as he placed the knife in her hand. “You’ll have to let me know how you got your hands on such an item.”
She eyed him with her cat-like eyes, a feral smile crossing her face. “No, I don’t.” With a sleight of hand, it disappeared under her cloak.
He chuckled, clearly enjoying himself.
The woman glanced back into the castle ruins, the sounds of tearing and eating of flesh and breaking and crunch of bones emitted from inside. “What about their son?”
The Crimson Vampire frowned. “How did you know that?”
This time, she smiled playfully. “You’re not the only one with tricks.”
“You are quite the woman, Narcissa Dormanhein,” he said with a wide smile. He looked at his sharp nails absent-mindedly, not a care in the world. “We don’t have to worry about the boy. He’s just a clueless child, unaware of his beingness and the supernatural.”
“Are you sure about that?” Narcissa said, raising an eyebrow. “Agatha Ashland, even before her prime, performed many amazing feats as a so-called child.”
“A different place, and a different time, my dear,” the Crimson Vampire said with a smirk. “This is why I love having you as a companion, Narcissa. Things are never… dull with you around.
Narcissa rolled her eyes.
“Agatha Ashland,” the vampire continued, “was born into a world of darkness and necessity. The boy knows nothing, and is nothing. He has no drive. Even if he comes into his own, he will be easily dealt with. He is of no concern to me.”
Narcissa said nothing, letting the silence linger. She may not have approved, but he didn’t need her approval, just her assistance and companionship.
“The pieces are falling into the place for a new Crimson Uprising,” the vampire said. “He’s one of the last black werewolves, as we have effectively eliminated most of them. They are simply pests, nothing but a bug waiting to be smashed. We have enough Grays weaned to our side, and plenty of Crimson Clan loyalists – you and I among them, sweet Narcissa. If all things go well, and they usually do, you won’t have to lift a finger, as all the pieces have been put in place.”
She sneered at being called sweet.
“With our infiltration of Crescent Academy, it’s only a matter of time,” the vampire said. “A little more patience, and we will have everything we need to take action for a new Mainland Crimson Order and to rid ourselves of sulking in the shadows like silly beings as we assume control to what was always our destiny and right as the superior beings of the Mainland.
Narcissa nodded at this, seemingly pleased at his words.
And with that, they turned and disappeared into the darkness of the forest.
. . .