Chapter 3 #2
I am processing my mother's words in my head. Of course, we have stayed in such towns and villages before. The supernatural is nothing new to us, but settling among them and establishing a more permanent residence is new.
Times like these make me crave the ability to look into other people's minds.
What is Mother thinking? A town designed to captivate humans, only to capture them?
Eat them, drain them. Why does she believe this city, which apparently is not even real, is a place for us to stay?
I cannot wrap my head around it. Mother gazes at us both.
I can tell she is trying to gauge our reactions to the information she has just released to us.
I notice tears slowly flooding from Harlot's eyes, and I feel some welling up behind my own eyelids as well. It feels like a betrayal from Mother's side. How can we settle down and meet human partners if we live in a trap designed for humans to be used and abused, and most likely killed? Are we supposed just to let that happen and look on from the sidelines? I hate the feeling of futility; it’s how I’ve been feeling for years now.
Seeing young girls being sacrificed, killed, and often brutally tormented, to justify whatever perversion the humans harbored.
Praying to the old Gods? Please. If anything, it’s an offering for the bloodsuckers crawling outside the towns to please stay the hell away.
I want to fight the men who practice these “sacrifices”, hurt them, and offer them up instead, but Mother would hold me firmly and tell me my soul is too soft for this world, how she hates to see me suffer like this.
If she knew what I wanted to do to those lowlifes, she would understand I am not too soft.
I swear to myself that the moment I become an adult, I will not let another girl undergo any form of brutality if I can prevent it.
If Mother tries to stop me, then I will never forgive her.
“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” I sneer at Mother. For the first time in my life, I raise my voice at her. “I am almost eighteen. I want to meet a human female. I want to explore. I don’t want to be stuck with a bunch of fucking bloodsuckers.”
“It’s going to be fine, Fynn. Perhaps you’ll meet a lovely vampire girl?” She muses, as if all of this—us living among the undead—is a joke.
Our lives and futures are reduced to mere jests by our mother. My mouth curls in disgust.
I even see Harlot glance at her in disbelief. Does Mother honestly want us to mingle with these vile beasts? I’m uncertain if she’s teasing me to lighten the mood.
“And how do you suppose that will go down, huh? They cannot even touch us, Mother. They can’t even stand to be near us because of whatever fucking magic you imposed on us!” I see red now as I do my best to control my rage.
Mother grimaces at my harsh truth, one that it appears she has conveniently forgotten. I love my mother to death, yet her stupidity sometimes makes it hard to hold on to that feeling.
I narrow my eyes at Harlot, her long, slim throat, and her porcelain skin.
I tear my gaze away from her, fighting against the sensation that coils inside me.
I’m not going to kill my sister just because I’m having a fit, I tell myself sternly.
I point at a house with green and white painted shutters and blooming pink gerberas on a border below the window as I feel the rage consume me.
“I’ll be staying there by myself! Leave me alone, both of you!”
I stalk off toward the house and slam the door loudly behind me, leaving Mother and Harlot bewildered on the pristine, clean, cobblestone street.
Inside the house, it’s dark, and it takes a few seconds before my eyes adjust to the shapes and furniture.
The interior is modest, human-like. It smells like red roses—a soft, powdery aroma.
The stench is so overpowering that it clogs my nose, making me feel queasy and leaving a sour taste in my mouth.
I quickly open a window, hoping the smell will escape the house.
A soft light dances into the house the moment the window opens, dust particles flying everywhere.
The sun feels warm on my skin, prompting me to wonder how they could even replicate such a sensation.
The window's hinges creak in protest when I open them, as if it were the first time they had been used.
I inhale the peculiar fresh air from outside to replace the rose scent.
A loud cackle startles me, and I turn to the sound. My figure casts a shadow on the floor as daylight surrounds me.
“Don’t you like the scent of blossoming roses, human? Most humans find it alluring and adore it. It is a flower of romance and passion, after all,” a soft feminine voice sings.
I scrunch my nose.
“It makes me sick. Why do you care, bloodsucker?”
I already know what dares to speak to me without seeing it clearly, hidden in the shrouding darkness. It’s the magic that keeps her from jumping on top of me and ripping me to shreds; they can feel it deep in their bones. Vile beasts.
A beautiful, pale-looking woman appears in the shadows, avoiding the light. Clearly, not a day walker. She cocks her head as she takes me in with her blood-red irises. Her silver bob-length hair moves with her as she makes the motion.
“You possess a distinct difference,” she says as she keeps her distance from me.
She licks her plump, red lips as she looks at me, her fangs gleaming. Her eyelashes are unnaturally thick and black.
“Don’t bother,” I tell her as I step toward her. She hisses in return, baring her complete row of pointed teeth, her canines dangerously sharp. I smile back at her, baring my own teeth. Stupid cunt.
“What are you, human? The scent should have dazed you, yet you’re still standing,” she taunts as she slowly moves from left to right as if we are in a dance.
I take another step toward her, and she backs away from me with each step until she stands firm against the stone wall. Her eyes dart around, looking for an exit in case she needs it.
“Your worst nightmare if you keep bothering me, bitch. I’ll kill you, break your fucking neck if you even dare to look in my direction again. Clear, you vile piece of shit?”
Her dark red eyes latch onto me, narrowing, confusion ridden, all over her face. Without saying a word, she disappears into thin air. I scoff. That was almost too easy, but threatening her felt pretty good, taking some of the edge off my outrage.
A loud cry, followed by a snarl, awakens me from my deep slumber.
I rub my eyes and see the silver-haired, female vampire, just as I did this afternoon, with the once-pale skin on her hands and arms burned away.
Pieces of charcoal—what used to be her skin—fall to the floor.
The injuries won’t heal—or at least it will take a while for them to heal because of the magic that was inflicted on them.
Blood oozes from her open wounds. With a furious gaze, she fixes her eyes on me, her face twisted in agony.
I smile at her viciously, then tsk as I wave my finger at her.
“Naughty little vampire, didn’t I tell you to stay away from me? Why is it so hard for your kind to just leave us humans alone?”
She glares at me as she spits the word I’ve heard so often in disbelief. The answer to her internal question of what could have scorched her so badly dawns upon her.
“Aurum… You carry Aurum on you, young human! How is that possible?!” she hollers.
“That’s right, you bitch, you never stood a chance!” I yell as I crack my knuckles, jump forward, and reach for her.
The injury makes her slow, my frontal assault taking her by surprise.
My hand latches onto her neck, and her skin instantly melts, flesh bubbling under my touch.
As she instinctively grabs my arm to pry me off her, her hands start to burn, making it impossible for her to stop me.
In a desperate attempt to save herself, she tries to bite me, but a layer of protection around me breaks her razor-sharp teeth on impact, and I hear the enamel crack as her mouth becomes a bloody mess.
She bellows as I listen to the haunting sounds of her canines breaking in two.
I can’t help but maniacally laugh as I burn my hand through her skin and muscles until I reach her windpipe and crush it.
My hand functions as a knife, slicing through her skin, and as a torch when it comes to her bones.
A loud pop, followed by a thud, arrives as my hands burn through it all.
Her head falls on the floor. Blood is spraying everywhere; ashes are flailing through the air like a snowstorm.
Blood splatters onto the wall, the floor, and my face.
I hope her screams terrify every vampire living in this human-bait-like town.
My mother will not be happy with my little stunt, but I don’t care; this is something I will not regret.
Slaying the vampire eases some of the tension within me; it feels good.
Feeling and hearing the snap of her neck bones is a hauntingly beautiful symphony.
The searing and blistering of her skin is a sight to behold.
I don’t know how it all works, the magic, but I’m indifferent.
All I know is that it is highly effective against these creatures, and for some reason, they have difficulty staying away from us when they sense and smell us.
It’s probably the Aurum mixed with our blood that drives them to some sort of crazed state.
Mother never really explains much about it, always hesitant to tell us more about our heritage.
It’s one of the few things Harlot and I have in common: Mother leaving us in the dark.
There is a thirst for knowledge to understand the magic, our past, and what happened to our father—because despite having a father, we never had a dad—who died just a few days before our third birthday.
But Mother submerges everything into a cloud of mystery. It’s irritating.