15th February 2008 "Destructive Power"

Carver did not return for a good long while. And out of something between impatience and annoyance I followed him, without a thought that there might be something very terrible indeed, seeing as the stench was so strong. So when I did saunter after him it helped a great amount that I was not breathing, and there was no smell attacking my inner beast.

It was a blood bath. And not a descriptive term. Literally. Tens, maybe hundreds, of human bodies were scattered over the white white snow, and where they lay blood stained the ground with the colour of summer strawberries. Of the faces that were turned upwards I could see a variety of expressions, of ages, of gender, but overall they had one thing in common; they were pale like ghosts and every mouth was open as they screamed in frozen and everlasting terror.

Brother lay across lover, lay across mother, across great aunt Jessie, and I found myself gagging, not with pain from the thirst for blood, but with internal horror. This was a genocide, a world of death, where every  being had been drained of their blood, and then their bodies discarded into this pile of waste. This was not the controlled, ideal life that our kind had dreamed of, peace with what humans we could get our hands on. This was insanity; a vampire, or indeed vampires, who wrought this much damage woud most definitely have some bitter reason for hating the huamsn this much.

Carver shivered, not with cold, but with fear. As he heard my approach his eyes glanced up, wide and pleading. Silently, I indicated to my firmly closed mouth and gestured if he had a spare peg to hold my nose closed. Unfortunately he did not, so I just had to hope I did not relax and let in a breath of air.

"What sort of demon?" Carver whispered.

One with wickedness in their heart, I heard myself say.

And it was true. I had never seen this much loss of control, especcially, it had to be said, in Aristocratic Vampirism.

"And why?"

That is what I want to know, I sighed to myself. Then, teasing a hankerchief from my pocket I fashioned a mask across my mouth and nose, and pointed upwards to the castle.

"Might as well try there," I said thickly, not wanting to use much air.

Carver agreed with me, and unsurprisingly happily, he turned away from the massacre sight and joined me as we walked away and up to the ruinous entrance.

The very apt gothic castle towered above us. Directly beneath the main tower now I could see the ancient stones that gave the building its shape, the cracks that had grown over time. I stared upwards at the dank grey rocks against the pure white snow and light sky, wondering just how exactly all of this had come to be here, when a smell caught my nose. Then almost immediately it attacked my throat, savagely ripping across my taste buds, up to my brain, down to my stomach, sending my heart beating wildly.

I took one breath, and found it to be completely the wrong approach. The delicious, detectable, devastating scent of freshest human blood caught the flare of my nostrils, the alertness of my hunger. Not yet even dead the beautiful scent swam across like a destiny call, and as my nature drove me I was suddenly a slave. I knew that my eyes were turning black, my lips were curling back as my fangs got ready to drive themselves into soft pulsating flesh that I could drain of this sweet, sweet life juice . . .

'Aeatha?'

The crunch of snow behind me, and I was suddenly on guard. I tore around in a fury, eyes huge, body tense, only to shockingly see the form of Carver standing there. Knowing how I must look, and also realising that his abrupt interruption had also saved his life, I slapped a hand over my mouth and nose and instantly ceased to breathe.

'Carver,' I hissed tightly behind my palm, 'Don't do that ever again.'

'What is going on?' he asked, looking at me with concern. From all of his experience he knew what my problem was, he did not have to ask. But why I was such would solve his curiousity as well as his desire to be my friend.

Not wanting to waste the oxygen I had I shrugged, then jerked my head backwards towards where the original scent had come from. If I spoke it meant the air I had would begin to be used up, and from the extent of the power of the stench I feared what might happen if I dared take another breath.

Good thing then I was immortal and could go on without breath indefinitely.

Carver looked at me oddly, then sighed and nodded. Picking up his feet and knowing that I would not be satisfied until I knew the reason for all of the human blood, he walked around the tower, following the whiteness, until he had gone in a complete arc and disappeared entirely.

15th Feburary 2008 "A few days later"

Vampires do not feel the cold. But I could tell by the way Carver shivered that he was suffering from the mass of snow and ice around us.

'Do you not have anything warmer?' I asked.

The vampire-slayer-turned-researcher turned to me, scarves piled up to his nose, which was very obviously blue. He had possibly around eight layers on, all soft, cosy and very warm. But still, he shivered.  He tried to say something, but it only came out muffled underneath his two hats, ear muffs and scarves.

'I guess not,' I responded cheerily. If someone had been standing with us at that time, perhaps they would have known something was odd about the pair of us. Especcially as we were standing in the middle of fair England, and one of us was dressed in only a pair of jeans, a t-shirt supporting the band "Death and Blood" and a pair of old trainers. I did not wear a hat. The mass of constantly falling snow created one for me.

I gazed back up at the ancient castle, its towers tall and crooked, the masonary crumbling in many areas. Its whole architecture resounded gothic and screamed "vampire" to the four winds. True-to-myth, able to die and sleep vampires, that is.

'I still don't get why we are here,' Carver at last managed to struggle his way out of the fabric and wool, raising his chin as high as it would go to be heard.

I shrugged, 'Medes said it had to do with his children.'

'What, can't he deal with them on his own?'

Slowly I breathed, then tossed my head to rid myself of the "emo" fringe that cascaded over my eyes. It was easy in this century to be able to dress like a vampire, and still get away with being human.

'Because their leader has just been killed, and his heir dethroned, his whereabouts currently unknown.'

'Ah, and because you are an expert in getting rid of pretender monarchs, he asked you to help with this bloody mess.'

I did not choose to answer. A bloody mess it certainly was.

9th February 2008 "Insomnia"

Life can be hard, but immortality is harder.

I arose that night in a terrible mood. I had tried, once more to sleep, despite the fact that I knew I couldn't. No matter how many times Il'divou reminded me of our "incapabilites" I could not help but ponder the facts that Medes had opened to us. In truth, I longed for sleep more than anything, and the idea that beings similar to our kind, different, yet the same, could rest, had to rest, confounded me. Eerily, it delighted me also, and I grew near insane at times, wishing for the ability until my eyes popped from their sockets.

Il'divou very idiotically stormed into my depression, all hands in the air and shouting. My reactions were swift, and mostly reflexive. We finished one point three six seconds later with him pinned to the wall, his hands still high above him. My lips were drawn back, my fangs clearly revealed, as he just looked at me blankly, very nonchalant, used to my mood swings.

Silently I drew back, releasing him slowly, and letting myself swim back to reality.

Il'divou waited until I was "myself", licked his lips, blinked his fine amber eyes, and began, knowing I would only pay attention if I was satisfied.

'There is an urgent matter which requires your attention, sir.'

I grinned, turning my back to him, looking around the wide circular room that resembled a wine cellar. It was also my bedroom.

'When is there not a matter which requires my attention?' I asked, knowing it to be true. Ever since I had dethroned Narcissus, I had found I was very popular indeed. Every moment someone wanted to consult me about something.

The butler-vampire was not amused. 'A very urgent matter, sir. It comes from Medes.'

I stopped, my eyes just having reached the huge four-poster bed that was mine (that was curiously also shaped like a coffin) and I was surprised.

'Medes?' I asked, my voice high, but not cold. Despite my almost constant grumpiness, I always felt a certain small joy whenever certain names were mentioned. Primarily it concerned "Delphina", but two others were "Eachann" and at the moment "Medes".

Il'divou smiled behind me. It was obvious from the way the shift in atmosphere changed from freezing to mildy happy.

'Yes, Medes. And about something rather important.'

'As you have said already,' I grumbled.

There was silence as Il'divou waited. Then I sighed, as humanly as I coudl achieve and turned back around.

'Fine,' I said, my shoulders aching to grow wings and fly. 'But this better be worth my while.'

'Oh believe me,' Il'divou said, joining my side to urge me into walking up the concrete steps. 'This will be worth your while, my lord. Especcially as it concerns his children.'

I stared at him. Shocked.