Embrace Ch. 01

"You're nothing but a monster. You're nothing to me!" The fear flares to anger in Amelia's heart. "You don't know the meaning of love, you're a fiend!" Now would be the perfect moment for Felix to act, but he doesn't. Panic threatens Amelia's composure.

"Who said anything about love?" The vampire sneers. "I will have you, one way or another."

The angelic face twists into a snarl of rage. The blue eyes flash red with demonic fire, and Arabella screeches a frenzied howl as she springs.

Amelia hadn't heard the priest. He throws himself between her and the vampire with no regard for his own safety, and brandishes a crucifix that seems to glow with the fire of heaven. "Run child! Run for your soul!"

*

"You didn't do anything." Amelia whispers in the dark of her bedroom. "You would have let her..."

She imagines he's laughing.

*

She waits for a midnight summons but it never comes. Instead, three days later, an extraordinary letter is hand delivered at dusk. She takes it to Franz, and for once he joins her at the table.

"You should set your affairs in order." His eyes are sunken from exhaustion. He rests his hand on hers. "It's not good."

"I should... I should set my affairs in order?" She is incensed. "It's just an invitation to a salon at the palace, not a court summons."

The words he cannot say are written all over his face.

Nevertheless the next morning she makes her best effort to impress. No-one can fault her flawless appearance as she is taken by royal carriage to the imperial household, and invited to take in an afternoon's entertainment with the very height of society. It's like a dream.

An hour after sunset the Duke makes his appearance. He snaps his fingers, and like marionettes the royal women stand and leave. Their eyes have the same glazed look that Franz had as he went off on his midnight jaunts.

Amelia's heart is pounding. She stands, but he gestures at her and she sits back down. He's like a puppet master.

"Have you enjoyed your last day as one of the cattle?" He saunters over to the sideboard and pours a single glass of claret. He offers it to her, and she accepts it with a trembling hand.

"Forgive me..."

"I forgive you." His eyes are hard. "Don't imagine I'm unaware of the extent of your failures."

"Sir..."

"Sire. You may call me sire."

Her throat closes up, and not a word can she breathe. She sips gratefully at the drink and lowers her gaze to his ornately embroidered slippers.

"Bless me." He shakes his head and sits opposite her. "I had my reasons for bringing you into all this." He watches her as she drinks as slowly as she can. As though the remaining liquid were the sands of her life running through the glass. "It certainly wasn't for your towering intellect."

She sets down the glass and finally finds her voice. "Sire... is there anything I can offer you to save myself? I beg of you..."

"Not now, childe. You misunderstand your situation. You have been elevated above your insignificant peers. How can one be saved from the burden of opportunity?"

She cannot answer that.

"You must take the knee and make your oath to me. You must take the blood." His smile is cruel. He must yearn to watch her squirm in ignorance of the truth, as she comes to terms with the monstrous nature of his kind. "My gift will elevate you to heights you could never dream of."

"I won't drink your blood. Sir. I will not."

He bristles at that, and clears his throat awkwardly.

"Be that as it may, you do have a choice. You may take the knee or not as you see fit. You've been made aware of the secret workings of society, and from that there is no return to blissful ignorance, you can be sure. We live a life beyond death because we are destined to rule our lessers and guide them through generations of progress. It is a sacred duty which I undertake gladly, despite the personal cost. You may accept that duty and join me or refuse it and die by my hand. The choice cannot be denied."

"What a nauseating explanation."

From the recess near the window steps an emaciated man. His body is scarred and twisted with old wounds and his eyes are wild. Time seems to stand still. Even the candle flames stop dancing. Amelia springs to her feet and darts behind the chair she was sitting on.

"Oh God! This is what you wanted all along."

Felix frowns and shrugs his shoulders.

"I can't remember if I wanted it in the beginning, you know? When the moon started trying to get through to me, it was all I could do to hold on and wait. It's going to be fine."

"I don't want to be like her, please Felix." She shudders, remembering all those heartless summons in the dead of night, and the duke sneering at her as he fed her his... "He made me drink his blood before. In the gardens. I don't want to be like him, I'd rather die."

"Shut up now. You're going to make it angry again. You won't like it when it gets angry. Nobody wants to be dead. it's not like your stupid fairy stories. There's only loneliness, and darkness, and you're scared of the dark you ungrateful little shit!"

"God help me. Please don't do this... spare me please somehow if you have a heart..."

"You want to live?"

"Of course I want to live! Help me, get me out of here!"

"Can't be done I'm afraid. The prince would have your head."

Her heart is like a lead weight in her breast. "I can't bear it. My life is over before it's even begun."

He seems to soften a little at that.

"Now then kid. You're not paying attention." He crosses the room, takes her firmly by the hand, and leads her over to where the Duke is sitting. "There's a purpose. Always. Just look at him."

She takes in the Duke's cruel sneer, the superior tilt of his chin, the flat eyes, like taxidermy, the sincere belief that his monstrous existence is of benefit to mankind.

"He's asking for it. He's ready for it. There's so much for him to learn, it's all down to you to teach him."

He guides her down onto one knee, and suddenly with a whoosh of air, everything begins to move again.

"Please don't hurt me." She watches his mouth fill with teeth, long and sharp, and a predatory light fills his eyes. He grasps a handful of hair at the nape of her neck and pulls her head back.

She begins to scream as he pounces on her. The breath is knocked out of her lungs, and the sudden sharp pain in her throat is excruciating. He crushes her windpipe with a sickening crack as he bites down, and then jerks his head back, tearing away a mouthful of her neck and spitting it out with a snarl.

She can't remember hitting the ground as she stares up at the beautiful plaster of the ceiling. There's a sound like water draining away. That sound is the clicking bubbling unscream that her ruined throat gives out as it tries to breathe. She struggles, helpless as the strength melts out of her limbs. Her head falls to the side. The pain fades away as she watches the pool of her lifeblood obliterate the bright pattern of the Turkish carpet. The Duke curses that his clothes are ruined. She feels hot tears pour from her eyes. Then she feels...

Weightless.

A drum pounds in the dark, slower, slower, then nothing.

Gradually, she begins to fall.

All that's left is a mouth full of blood.

Drink.

Drink.

Live.

It runs into her like fire, cutting a new path in her once mortal flesh; her eyes burn as she opens them. Wolf Dietrich is there, yes, and she feeds from his wrist as he looks away in distaste. Behind him Felix seems larger than life. The old man has opened up a dire wound across his heart, and from it pours a cascade of sacred vitae, black as the night and full of stars. It rains onto her body, soaks into her very soul.

*