The pain of the vampire’s bite never comes.
A flash of light erupts beside his face, right in front of the vampire’s eyes. It screeches out in pain as patches of the skin on its face boil as the luminance touches it, quickly turning to ash and flaking off. The vampire jerks back and lets go of Cashew, who drops to the ground like a sack of potatoes, his body still frozen by the creature’s enchanting gaze.
It retreats into the shadows of its cell, covering its face with its hands as it seethes with pain and frustration.
“Cash! You okay?!” Demy says, reaching the fallen Halfling first. He scoops Cashew up in his arms protectively, stepping away from the cage. Cashew’s body is stiff; his muscles are locked up and his eyes are dazed.
Kaz steps up between Cashew and the bars of the cell, hand held out at the bars of the cage, fingers splayed out. Her hand glows with the same bright light that halted the vampire’s attempt; the light illuminates part of the cage and the creature scoots further away from it in fear. Kaz says nothing, merely staring at the vampire with cold eyes, unblinking.
Wren runs over to Demy and Cashew, their demeanor serious as they simply ask, “Kaz?”
“Undead. Vampire, likely,” she answers.
“Did it bite him?” Dahlia asks, making her way over calmly. Addy follows along, looking worried.
Wren lowers Cashew’s cloak hood and checks his neck while Demy continues to hold him, grimacing at what Wren might say. When they finally announce, “No bite, it just charmed him,” Demy lets out a shaky sigh.
“Can you fix him?” He asks, looking over at Wren with pleading eyes.
Wren gives him a reassuring smile before turning their attention back to Cashew. They hold their hand out toward him, focusing their intent upon him as they reach deep within, flexing the “muscle” in their mind that draws forth the magical energy that flows through their veins. Their eyes glow white, with the light of the twin moons above, showing them the magical aura of the enchantment.
Much like the magic upon the door to Tarn’s bedroom, the spell upon Cashew’s mind fractures and sways, the aura breaking apart into a million pieces and scattering back to the aether as raw mana, raw arcane energy.
Cashew gasps, taking a deep breath as he twitches in Demy’s arms. His chest heaves and his eyes flick around, wide and scared, until he realizes where he is. His breathing slows and he sighs, tiredly leaning against Demy.
“Heh, not meeting with Elyphiss today,” he chuckles weakly, downplaying the adrenaline rush of fear still coursing through him.
“Not today, friend,” Demy says with a small laugh, hugging him tightly. Cashew hugs him back, shaking slightly.
“If you got bit, you wouldn’t be meeting her, anyway,” Dahlia says flatly.
“Are we sure that it’s a vampire?” Addy asks, trying to peek through the bars of the cell at the creature huddled in the corner. She is held back by Kaz, who keeps her attention on the figure in the cell, ready to react without any hesitation.
“Held in a basement that blocks out sunlight, burned by holy radiance, mesmerizes victims,” Dahlia begins listing.
Wren takes over, “The bodies down here are all drained of blood. Add that on to what we found in the house, with the books about magical curses and diseases, and the note from Tarn about trying to find a cure.”
Dahlia motions toward all the alchemical equipment and notes nearby, explaining, “Which is what all of this is for. The notes are mostly failed experiments, looking for a cure to the affliction. The old human was working on it up until he died, it seems.”
“That makes sense,” Addy mutters, still trying to get a good look at the vampire despite Kaz’s prevention. “Mister Tarn had this manor built for his research. It’s quiet and secluded, so there’s nobody to get curious or get him in trouble for harboring a vampire. Maybe he was like you, too, Dahlia!”
“He was looking for new ingredients to try,” Dahlia says, nodding a little.
“So why did Tarn care about some random vampire? He built this place on some dangerous new land, spent a fortune, and even killed a bunch of people just feeding it?” Demy wonders aloud.
Wren and Cashew exchange glances, but it’s Kaz who finally speaks up for the first time since discovering the creature: “Because it’s his kid. That’s Andrew.”
There is a moment of silence as the six take in this information, which hangs heavily in the stale air around them. To some this is a complete surprise, but the suspicion has been growing among the group as they gradually uncovered the secrets of the manor: The mystery of the manor being built in the first place, the correspondence looking for some kind of cure, the literature covering afflictions like vampirism, the hidden basement designed to keep out sunlight, the drained bodies. Only someone desperate would go through all this, meaning the vampire in question must be someone important. Someone who Tarn would spend his fortune for, would kill for.
“But I thought he died in some battle–” Demy begins to ask, but stops. Phyleris is his home and its dangers are something he knows all too well. There is a reason that most of the books come from Phyleris, which is that such afflictions run rampant in the bogs and marshes, where few dare to tread and disease spreads unhindered.
An old wound aches on his shoulder, but Demy fights the urge to touch it. “They probably ran into a feral vampire. Or maybe even one of the Phylerian soldiers,” he says softly.
“He did die. Kind of,” Dahlia says. “The old man lied so that his son wouldn’t be destroyed.”
“That means Mister Tarn was working on a cure for at least ten years, before he died,” Addy says, thinking.
Wren shakes their head in dismay. “Which means that he’s been down here for what, ten years?” They ask, looking over at Addy.
“A little over eleven,” she corrects.
“Stuck in a cage, alone in the dark, for eleven years? How has he not starved?” Demy asks, baffled.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Vampires can’t starve to death. They go through withdrawals and become crazed and feral without it, but they won’t die,” Dahlia explains.
Demy frowns and looks at the cage. Softly, empathetically, he says, “Pretty sure that’s worse than dying.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Kaz says tersely. She draws her sword, the glow from her hand seeping down the metal blade once again; she holds it out toward Andrew, who hisses and scoots farther into the corner, away from the light. The door to the cell is directly to her side and she grabs it, finding it to be locked. “Cashew, open this door.”
Cashew carefully slides out of Demy’s grasp, steadying himself on his feet. He hesitates, however, looking from the door, to Kaz, to Andrew, and says, “I mean, I know he tried to bite me and all, but are we really going to kill him?”
“He is already dead,” Dahlia says.
“Exactly. We’re just putting him out of his misery–and everyone else’s,” Kaz says, gazing back at the pile of dead bodies in the corner.
“Miser Tarn tried for years to find a cure, though,” Addy says sadly.
“He just wanted to save his only family,” Wren mutters, staring through the bars at the huddled figure. “It isn’t his fault he’s different, now.”
Demy stands tall, expression stern as he says, “Red’s right, it’s not his fault that he got infected. You should be trying to help him, not kill him!”
Kaz glances back at Demy, her expression just as stern and serious as his own. Calmly, she explains, “He has lived in misery for years. There is no cure and he is likely to infect others. Look how close he came to biting Smalls, that would’ve infected him too.”
Cashew rubs his neck, letting out a small groan of uncertainty before he says, “I’m not happy about that, no. But they’re not wrong, it’s not his fault if he got infected. Aren’t vampires supposed to be, like, evil, though?”
“False,” Dahlia says in her usual flat, matter-of-fact tone. “It might change your outlook, but being infected doesn’t cause a personality shift directly. They are driven to feed off blood and spread the–disease or curse, however you want to think of it–and if they don’t, they go crazy and spread it anyway.”
“So it’s not their fault, but they can’t help it!” Addy exclaims.
Kaz lets out an exhausted sigh, turning her gaze downward as she explains, “Look, this isn’t a witch hunt. I’m not saying we kill–destroy–them out of malice. They’re sick. They’re infectious. It is not an easy decision or one to be made lightly, but letting a vampire go free to spread the sickness is not something we should do. He’s dangerous, even if he isn’t trying to be.”
“Then your answer is to just kill him?!” Demy asks through gritted teeth.
“That shouldn’t be our first solution,” Wren says in agreement. “We should try to think of a way to help him control himself. There has to be another way.”
Kaz considers this, reaching up to rub her talisman of Kelathorne between her fingers in thought. Finally, she says, “You’re right, sentencing him to death should be a last resort. But if we can’t find another way to help him, then that’s the only option, apart from just leaving him locked up down here.”
“Well, first thing’s first, he’s kind of crazy from a decade of blood withdrawal. Can that be fixed or is he just broke?” Cashew asks, leaning against the nearby stone wall.
“From what those books said, a vampire can go without blood for however long, but they’ll go crazy and feral. Feasting on blood again can snap them out of it, though!” Addy explains.
“I’m not letting him bite me,” Cashew complains.
“I mean, we all have surplus blood, right?” Wren says. “Make a little cut, collect some in a bowl to give to him. Kaz or Dahlia can heal the wound up after.”
“Man’s gotta eat,” Demy says, happy that the conversation has moved away from outright murder. Cashew gives him a look and shakes his head discreetly, though, causing Demy to frown in confusion.
Kaz, on the same page as Cashew, elaborates to Demy: “Giving him your blood might not be a good idea. Considering, you know. Your condition.”
“My what? I–oh. Oh!” Demy says, finally understanding.
“‘Condition?’ Are you sick, Demy?” Wren asks, looking worried.
“Oh, uh, it’s a long story,” Demy says sheepishly. Wren huffs up at him and he relents, saying, “I’ll tell it when we get back to town, okay? I’ll tell everyone.”
“Promise?” Wren asks, almost a command.
“Promise, okay?” Demy replies, holding his hands up in surrender.
Cashew looks over at Kaz, squinting. Kaz nods, but says nothing, indicating that she knows of Demy’s situation. He scoots over to her, careful to stay out of arm’s reach of the cage.
“How much do you know?” Cashew whispers.
“No specifics, but I can take a guess,” Kaz whispers back.
Cashew scowls at her, arms crossed. Instead of getting defensive, however, he quietly says, “Demy’s a good guy. He just needs help, like our vampire buddy over there. Most people don’t get that.”
Kaz looks over at Demy and Wren, nodding slowly. “It’s a lot easier to hurt than it is to help, sometimes. A lot simpler. You were right to challenge my decision.”
Cashew shrugs and says, “You were doing what you thought was right. The fact that you listened makes me feel a lot better about our whole arrangement.”
Kaz’s attention turns to Addy and Dahlia, who are having a quiet, in depth conversation apart from the rest of the group. “Do you two have any ideas?” She asks.
Addy looks up with a smile, “We might have an answer to helping him calm down and a long-term solution.”
“Wait, did you find a cure in his notes after all?” Wren asks, looking around Demy at the two.
“Nope!” Addy says cheerfully.
“Then, what–” Cashew starts to ask.
“Tarn wanted to save his son’s life. Even though he never found a cure, that doesn’t mean he didn’t succeed,” Dahlia says, a small smile spreading across her face. She turns back to the laboratory bench with Addy and the two begin work.
The others watch curiously until Kaz’s attention once again drifts and she asks, “So, are we going to address the numerous murders that transpired in order to feed Andrew?”
“They were probably assholes,” Cashew says with a shrug.
“Upon carefully, uh, investigating their belongings, I can attest that most of them were probably pirates and sell-swords of dubious morals,” Wren says.
Kaz squints at them both and says, “We’ll let Andrew explain himself if and when he comes back to his senses.”
“Say, you were going to share all that investigated belongings with the rest of us, weren’t you?” Cashew says slyly, grinning at Wren.
They flush slightly and look away, explaining, “Well most of what we found was just old gear, nothing really of value.”
“What about all the coin and jewelry, though?” Demy asks.
“Demy!” Wren hisses.
“Ah-ha!” Cashew says, pointing an accusing finger at Wren. The two begin to argue over splitting the findings while Demy and Kaz do their best to keep the confrontation from becoming physical.
On the other side of the room, Addy and Dahlia busily toil away at what they hope will result in some life-saving science!