Made in Death's Image 03

"You fucking bitch," Vero snarled, slamming his hands into the table and standing.

"Sit down Vero," Pavel commanded as he reached into his jacket conspicuously.

"Forgive me," Vero replied, sitting back down and speaking in broken English, "It comes to mind however, Codrin always seemed to produce weak and pathetic heirs. Do you remember that daughter—what was her name? Olivia, killed in Hungary but a hundred years ago like a winter hare- shot full of bullets!"

The room howled with laughter.

"We must remember those old days—it is those days our lord, Pavel, will return to us!" Vero roared with passion, "This world will fear us once more!"

They cheered their glasses, and Grace said nothing as they began to reminisce upon long dead days of glory. To her, it seemed like old men who never truly could let go of the past. In a way, it gave her peace because she knew men who refused to get over their time would always be dead men. The future would always be victorious over the past.

TWELVE

The dinner dragged out, and once the wine was all but gone, and the vampires laughed and spoke without a worry in the world all while Grace could feel the all consuming hunger take up every thought she tried to hold. The noise of the room seemed distant until she noticed a maid quietly approach Vero to whisper into his ear. He hummed, holding up his hand which silenced the room. A gleeful smirk on his face. He waved his hands around in such a performative manner to quell the conversation in the room.

"It seems our meal has arrived," Vero mused joyously.

As Grace turned her head towards the heavy twelve foot doors that swung open, her heart sank. Being pulled into the room tied and naked was a group of humans—scared men and women- beautiful and bruised. Her eyes widened as the slaughter began. The doors were locked, and the vampires moved with speed, grabbing onto their desired victim and tearing their fangs into the soft flesh of their necks. Grace was so very hungry as she watched all the vampires indulge with yells of joy and the sounds of violent sucking. She did her best to not watch- she couldn't stomach feeding and slaughtering these poor people but she couldn't deny the need within her. In her efforts, she didn't notice Pavel appear at her side, a smirk on his face.

"I'd suggest," he purred, thrusting a terrified woman onto Grace's lap, "You enjoy your meal, who knows when you'll get another."

The woman looked up at Grace, hot tears dripping down her rosy colored cheeks. She was young, just barely an adult, her fingers up in defense and her body trembling. Grace inhaled slowly, she could hear the woman's heart beating fast like a hummingbird's, hammering so loud and quickly. Grace closed her eyes, and showing the woman mercy, she snapped her neck with one fluid flick of her wrist. Then, she pulled the lifeless body towards her, her fangs piercing the woman's throat, warm delicious blood slipping down her throat with a burn like the smoothest of liquors.

The echoes of Pavel's laughter haunted Grace more than those terrified screams. Even now in her desperations and claims of difference he had broken her desire to spare lives.

Michael jolted awake, his eyes wide as he looked around. It calmed, as he realized he was in the car. Lorenzo had taken over the driving, and Michael had moved to the backseat unexpectedly falling asleep. Through the rearview mirror, Ceil caught his gaze, her concern sharp.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly.

He nodded, licking his dry lips and looking out the window. They were passing a town, the moon high and the city lights bright. It was a pleasant distraction, calming Michael's racing heart. He couldn't remember his nightmare, but the cruel fear lingered all the same. His thoughts turned to Grace, and he sent a small prayer into the night, hoping she was safe, pleading for her to be alive and ok.

"We should stop soon," Lorenzo said after a moment, "We all need to eat."

"You need to hunt," Ceil said, corrected.

He glanced at her, his hungry eyes calm, "I don't kill when I don't have to."

"What situation constitutes when you need to?" she replied, straightening her body and keeping her gaze steady on their ally, "After all this I might just kill you when I catch you being out of control."

The vampire laughed, "Enemies of enemies make allies, but they still stand as enemies. I kill if they're trying to kill me with any sense of efficacy. I think self defense is permitted?"

Michael interrupted their next debate on morality and quiddity to existence when he looked back out the car window, "How about that place? It looks open still, and there's parking."

They pulled up, Lorenzo parking the car, and they slid out. As they did, Ceil's eyes scanned the perimeter of the restaurant and bar. She carefully tucked a silver stake into her jacket before moving over to Michael, who slipped out of the car and stretched his legs briefly, readying himself for anything that might turn up in the night.

"I'm going to do a check inside," she then said to the two, "Come Michael."

Lorenzo nodded, "I'll do an outside check then feed. I shall meet you inside."

"Be... subtle," Ceil snapped at him, "We don't want any problems."

Lorenzo sent her a nod before disappearing into the night. Ceil then turned to Michael, he looked at her and noticed how her stance relaxed noticeably as Lorenzo left. She sighed, rubbing her tired face. Michael frowned.

"We don't need him," he said softly.

She smiled tiredly, "I wish I could agree but I think we do. Even with him it's a tough situation, two hunters, one horribly untrained, trying to take down a man like Pavel?"

A pang stabbed Michael's heart, "I can pull my weight."

Her eyes widened and guilt crossed her face, "No, I know that I didn't mean it—"

"—Yeah, you did," he replied, feeling hurt, "Come on, let's go."

Saying nothing more, the two slipped into the restaurant and bar. It was a small little place, with a full dance floor of happy drunk people, and many tables of happy patrons. Ceil put Michael on table duty, and she did a walk around the extremely busy restaurant. He found an empty table, and a waitress slid him a menu. Michael thanked the woman as Ceil came back. The two ordered food as Lorenzo returned, more energy in his step.

"Tres Ambar," Lorenzo said to the waitress.

She smiled and nodded.

Ceil frowned, "Maybe I don't want a beer."

Lorenzo winked at her, "We both know you do."

Her eyes rolled, but she didn't argue.

Michael tapped his fingers against the table, "Ceil, can I borrow your cell?"

She nodded, handing it over, "Calling home?"

"Yeah," he replied, stepping away from the table, "I'll be outside for a second."

Ceil smiled, patting his arm, "Be careful."

He left, sliding out of the restaurant and called Fran. The phone rang only once before Fran picked up. His heart hurt for his adopted family he knew she was worried about him but she also understood that this was something Michael had to do. He had been calling her from Ceil's phone, and even when Ceil changed phones to keep from being tracked, Fran always knew when Michael called. It was a mother's intuition, she'd always say laughing but Michael knew it was because she was so terribly worried about him.

"Michael," she breathed, "Are you safe?"

He smiled, "Yes, I'm alright. I'm safe, I'm ok. I-I can't tell you where I am but--"

"—no," she replied sternly, "I don't need to know, it's alright. All I need to know is that you're ok, and that you are being safe. It's ok Michael, I worry but I know what you're doing is important. Do not worry about me."

"Thank you Fran," he whispered, a burn in his eyes, "I am so close to finding her, and when I do, we will be back to normal and we will disappear so no one can hurt us. It'll be all over soon."

"I pray every night for you, I pray you and Grace will find peace. I know God loves you—you are both loved, and so I know you will be ok."

Her words had a heaviness lifting from his heart, he wasn't all too religious or up for the hokey spiritual talk but in light of all that was happening in his life he couldn't help but wonder if there was a god, "Thank you, Thank you so much. Listen, I have to go now, but I love you Fran, and I wish...I wish you had been my mom instead."

Fran sniffled, holding back tears, "Don't be stupid, you are my son. Which means, if anyone hurts you they will have to deal with me. Go now, I love you too, be safe."

He thanked her, hanging up the phone before slipping back into the restaurant. It was loud inside, Spanish music playing through rusted speakers. Over near their table and on the dance floor was Lorenzo and Ceil, laughing softly as he spun her. Michael paused, startled at their closeness but slid onto his chair and sipped his beer. The scene reminded him of Grace, and their first date. Their love, and dancing under the night sky, Michael's fingers curled around his bottle and he found excitement in his heart. He couldn't wait for their next dance, and he promised to himself that it would be soon.

THIRTEEN

After the dinner, Grace was taken back to her room. There, locked inside again, she pulled off the blood soaked gown and sat on the bed. Physically, she felt great, she hadn't felt this energized in months. Pavel had fed her nothing but scraps. Only ever enough to keep her functional and alive. However, she loathed herself? She had drunk that poor woman dry. Squeezed all the blood out of her like a tube of toothpaste. She looked to Pavel seeing if he'd revel in making her murder an innocent but he watched her totally unenthused. She kept hearing the scared and frightened cries of the woman as she drained her dry.

She awoke to the cold grasp of silver. Letting out a startled noise, her eyes flew open. Her sight cut through the dark room as she flexed her hands—only to find them tightly bound by silver cuffs to the head of the bed, her legs in a similar fashion were cuffed to the bottom of the bed and sitting on the edge was the figure of Pavel.

"What-" she seethed, the pent of hostility revealing itself through the hiss, "do you think you're doing?"

He looked over at her, and she froze, suddenly nervous about the situation.

"You looked beautiful tonight," he then said—softly, so softly, "You look beautiful naked. It is a body I could never dream of forgetting, one thing I do not regret from those memories of the past."

Grace swallowed the lump in her throat, "Why am I chained?"

His head tilted, "Did you ever love me?"

A gasp slipped from her lips, "W-What?"

"Did you ever love me? Back then."

Her eyes searched his face for the answer he wanted to hear, for the answer to why he was asking but she found nothing. He didn't seem to care whether she said yes or no—there was no true deeper meaning to his question so she decided to be honest. Even cuffed and chained like an animal, it was honesty they both deserved from each other.

"I don't know," she admitted, "I think back and maybe I did, or maybe it was a stupid illusion I held out of fear of Codrin. I-I was so confused and manipulated back then, I was nothing but a pawn and even a whore and Codrin convinced me of that."

His face darkened, building with rage, "I threw away everything—you took my humanity, my life! I was a loyal servant and did whatever was asking until the Cold war ended and then I was abandoned like nothing. Can you even imagine what I had gone through?"

Grace knew it was better not to reply, staying quiet.

"I was thrusted back into a world I had been taken from. And you expected me to just go back like I hadn't been changed? I was confused and displaced. You had thrusted an enlightenment onto me and then taken that world away. Like I had never existed to you in the first place—but I had! I had breathed and killed for you!" he snarled, standing suddenly, "I had given you my soul and in return you used me like a tissue!"

"You think I lived peacefully as Codrin's pet? You think I lived unused? Independent? Like a person?" she replied, unable to hide the pain that had been dredged up.

He laughed bitterly, "However you lived could never compare to my suffering! At least you threw him out in the end, at least he showered you in appraisal. But me? I was left to rot among the pathetic humans that I had been freed from! I had had everything taken from me once again."

Grace closed her eyes, pushing her own soul away from the fit of this childlike vampire. She imagined Michael's smile, the way his dimples pulled up upon his face, and his eyes crinkled with delight as he comforted her. She could remember the scent of his body, the way his blood smelled like the sweetest honey, and the feeling of his warm flesh.

"Look at me!" Pavel raged, forcing her eyes wide open as he grabbed her throat, mounting her, "Look at me. I could kill you right now, I could dispatch your head from those pretty little shoulders right now and be done with you. I feel nothing towards you, in the place you stole my soul simmers a hole filled with only rage and disgust. Thank whatever god you wish that I still need you for one final act."

She tensed her body, staring up at him, using every fiber of her being to not move. To keep her gaze emotionless and cold, but inside, there is a cold, brutal fear. The fear that never again will she feel Michael's soft yet firm lips upon her, never will she feel his tender embrace or hear his silky, strong voice. Then he pulled away, pulling a small, silver dagger from his pocket.

"I hope you lay here tortured by your thoughts, by your past and by the sins you have done to me, lay here chained and in pain like you had left me so long ago," he said slowly, a smirk on his face.

Before she could question him, he thrusted the dagger's blade into her shoulder. A curling scream let her lips as hot pain seared through her skin, her back arching as her flesh seemed to be away from the pain. He left the bed, a sudden satisfaction on his face.

"Enjoy the night," he hissed before leaving.

Hot tears dripped down Grace's face and she bit her lip to keep from screaming again. She didn't want to give Pavel any sort of satisfaction. Instead, she racked her brain for a plan, her eyes flicking around the dark room for any sort of answer, and then it dawned on her. A bloody smile pulling onto her lips.

"Pavel you stupid bitch," she whispered almost gleefully.

FOURTEEN

When Grace found Raven at the bottom of the staircase, she was rotted beyond human recognition, a horrific look of fear upon her face. It was the moment Grace had decided to run far, far away from humanity and into the arms of Codrin's promise. Humans were fragile and pathetic creatures, they died as easily as they breathed and were constantly tormented with a bundle of emotions- mostly fear of that death that manifested in all their little actions. There was nothing good that came out of a human life, only sorrow. And yet, there the vampire lay. Bound, stabbed in the shoulder and tormented by her own feelings. It was only after meeting Michael that Grace had learned the truth—vampires are just as fragile and afraid in their own ways.

However, Grace was determined not to die.

A scream tore through her lips, as she writhed in her pain. The sharp blade slowly being forced to cut through her flesh like butter as it worked its way around her wound. It burned like hot oil being poured into her veins. That was the power of silver, but she refused to let her fight end here.

"Come on you stupid fucker," she snarled carefully, as to not alert any guards.

It continued its path through her flesh, all the way up her arm. Then, near her wrist, the blade gave out. Falling from her skin. She let out a gasp, jerking her body upwards. Her fingers grasped wildly at air, and with a bit of luck, they gripped the handle to the blade. Turning it around in her grasp she schimied it up and down vigorously. Her enhanced hearing could hear the silver coating of the knife peel and scrape away as it worked on her chains. With a wretched shriek of metal against metal and her supernatural strength the chain snapped. Grace took a deep breath, she collected herself.

Once Grace freed her hands her legs were no task at all. Slowly, her mangled bleeding arm began to heal, and she sprang from the bed. Worry settled in her, she knew Pavel or the guards could return at any second and time was not on her side. She had to make her play now and in only her blood soaked undergarments they'd smell her escape immediately. She remembered Codrin's training.

Don't rush into things, she could almost hear his voice as if it sat in her ear, use your charm, your body, your mind, your will, most opponents underestimate you at the slightest appearance of a disadvantage. What's your next move?

Moving behind the door, she breathed out slowly, dipping her stance into a fight position.

"I-I'm bleeding t-too much. P-please- Pavel will kill you-," she cried, putting fake weakness and terror in her voice, "P-Please—"

The door swung open, and two guards walked in.

"Where is she-" one said as the door closed.

Grace sprang, stabbing the knife into the first's neck before dragging it down from his neck into his heart. The snap of each rib bursted into the room until the guard turned to that fleshy pile of sinew. While the second knew it was a trap by now, he didn't have any more of a chance to survive. Grace dropped low, using her alternate hand to deliver a punch to his gut and the second vampire guard went flying. He slammed into the wall with a groan. Grace used her speed and was on the guard before he could react. Using both hands she dove into his heart with the knife. He burst into sinew instantly before Grace fell into the wall barely bracing herself in time.

Grace collected herself and stood to meet her next challenges.

Grace moved like a wraith, skulking across the room on her toes and slipping out of the room and down the hall. Making her way into a large living room where there was a fireplace burning peacefully. She paused, her eyes widening as she watched the flames for a moment. It was then all the anger and pain that Pavel had put her thought built. She ran to the fire, but not before grabbing a handful of thick curtains, she swung the curtain into the fire and used it to grab a bundle of the roaring firewood before throwing it across the room.

She paused and realization dawned on her. The entire living room was on fire, mirroring that all too familiar anger in her. Inhaling once more, she continued on her way, determined to find an out of the now burning mansion.

There were no windows not covered in thick panels of silver thus far, and no doors to the outside. Behind her smoke and fire billowed, quickly catching up. Finally, after what seemed like far too long, she came across a large room full of large windows, a few floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with old texts, a large amount of flowers in pots and in the middle a tea table. She paused, her eyes wide as she froze. Sitting at the table enjoying what seemed to be a teacup of blood was Vero.

He blinked once, then stood. Rage filled his face as he charged at her. A gasp caught in Grace's throat as he slammed her into the ground, pinning her to the floor. His large hands grasped her throat as he choked her, and as her eyes rolled back, she noticed two things in the doorway. First being the large amount of smoke that eagerly licked across the hall, dancing around the archway, and the second being Pavel standing in the doorway with a surprise on his face. Grace could feel the strength leaving her, a look of peace passing on her face. She royally fucked up, to be killed by a sycophant and then to be devoured by flames. She couldn't even laugh.