Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
ORPHEUS
Of what do vampires dream? Of times gone by, when they once walked as humans, when they ate, drank and made love as mortals do.
During such times, when enclosed within naivete, life was simplicity itself.
Alex dreamed of Jadeon and Catherine as all three played within the castle walls, no cares other than that of avoiding their parents and stealing time together. The all-consuming nightmares came, too.
Alex had dismissed all the staff within the castle. Many of them had worked there for most of their lives. The task had not been easy, and despite not wanting to alarm them, he told them his father had died of an infectious disease. For their own safety, they left.
Alone and bewildered, Alex walked the corridors.
He longed for Jadeon, and despite all that I had done he still pined for my company.
Wandering St. Michaels’s he was lost within its vastness, trapped by what he had become.
He dared not venture out, afraid of everything and nothing.
He would wait. Jadeon would return soon.
Then and only then would he explore the changing world that lay outside the castle.
Alex had made a room for himself after removing all evidence of the Stone Master massacre.
Here he could sleep in safety, engulfed in total darkness during the daylight hours.
His bed now lay in the corner of his dark domain.
An ironic twist of fate that he had once been forbidden to even enter this room.
A noise startled him and he awoke from a troubled slumber. Three weeks had passed since Jadeon had left his side and for a moment he hoped it was his brother. Alex detected more than one person within the castle walls.
“Pirates!” Alex jumped up out of his makeshift bed. Unlocking the door, he made his way toward where the men had now gathered.
He listened carefully to the voices within the large dining room, detecting several men, and was shocked to discover them busying themselves stealing the silver cutlery.
He pushed the door ajar and watched the burglars place their finds into the hessian sacks they had brought with them.
The men were large of frame, rugged in appearance, and dressed as sailors with dark breeches and dirty white shirts.
Two of the sinister buccaneers wore bandannas.
Alex’s urgent need to feed partially distracted him from his fear.
Their human odor intensified his hunger.
“Gentlemen,” he announced, standing at the doorway. “You are trespassing. Leave immediately.”
The men appeared startled to find anyone at all living within the castle.
The largest of the three, the apparent leader, neared him. “We had heard news that this place lay empty now.”
“I live here, and those things which you are taking belong to me. Now leave.” Alex entered.
“I very much doubt you can take all of us on.” The pirate scowled.
“What makes you think I live here alone?” Alex asked.
“Lord Artimas is dead. You must be one of his sons. You live here alone, no servants, no guards. Everyone who once lived here has disappeared.”
“Care to join them?” Alex asked.
The imposing man sneered. “This is how it’s going to be. You will allow us to proceed unhindered, and we will leave you alive. How does that sound?”
“Get out of my castle!” Alex yelled.
He staggered, stunned by the jab in his abdomen. He looked down, horrified to see the silver tip of the pirate’s weapon protruding through his stomach, blood flowing readily.
He fell.
The fourth man, initially undetected, now stood behind him and had run his sword through Alex’s body. The sword was yanked out, causing his blood to spurt. Alex struggled to rise. Using all his strength, he lurched and pushed his attacker out of the way, shocked to view his blood on the sword.
Alex fled.
He moved fast but they followed. The telltale trickle of blood that poured from his injury guided them to him. They followed him down the stairs, past his room and along the corridor where the many dark cells of the dungeon were lined on either side.
They walked into each ready to finish off their victim. The trail of blood now ceasing, they split up, each searching the cells for him separately.
One of the men continued along down the dark corridor and into the last cell. Finding nothing he turned to go, but on hearing a scratching sound, stopped to investigate. The pirate was thrown back by the wall that swung out and knocked him to the ground.
Alex appeared from nowhere, pulling the man into the secret vault that led to the castle’s clandestine underground pathway.
He dragged him down through the dark passageway used before on so many occasions by Lord Artimas.
The wall grated closed behind them and silence now replaced the man’s screams. His colleagues ran into the cell, startled to find it empty.
With the struggling pirate cradled in his arms, Alex stood upon the dirt floor as he—the aggressor now—leaned into the man’s neck.
The full force of his victim’s blood poured into his mouth, and for the first time, he felt fortunate.
His eyes rolled. The man weakened, surrendering with the loss of blood.
Alex could feel the mortal’s heart beating, and though it slowed he continued to drink, quenching his thirst, savoring.
He dropped his dead victim to the ground.
Alex gazed at his bloody shirt. He lifted the wet material to examine the fatal wound upon his abdomen, which to his relief, healed before his eyes.
Impossible, yet it happened, just like everything else in this nightmare unraveling around him, sometimes tilting, just barely, in his favor.
He shoved open the stone doorway and sauntered toward the center of the line of dungeons. He used his new refined senses to locate the three remaining men. He could see the pirates standing at the end of the corridor and noisily entered one of the cells, glancing back to ensure he was followed.
Alex readied himself for them.
They soon trapped him at the entrance, their menacing expressions taking Alex off guard.
They drew toward him, snaring him in the corner of the dark pungent cell.
Alex rose up into the air and scampered along the dungeon’s ceiling.
Within a moment, he stood on the outside of the cell, slamming the door with a clang and placing the rusty padlock in place, sealing the men inside.
A howl tore from him, laced with amusement, twisted pride, and a sharp edge of agony, for the abominable gift that thrilled and tormented him in equal measure.
“Wait!” The pirate’s hands were wrapped tightly around the jail bars, his knuckles white.
Alex faced him.
“You must let us go, boy. We have a ship anchored just behind your castle. Set us free or others will come to look for us.”
“Really?” Alex’s eyes grew large. “I think that’s probably the best news I’ve heard for weeks.”
Alex was gone.
Soon, he told himself, Jadeon would be beside him once more, and when that hour came soon, they would laugh at this absurdity. They would cradle it as only brothers could, finding strange joy in the madness they had endured.
But it was not Jadeon who came to him in that hour of stillness. Instead, what folded itself around him was a silence so profound it felt alive—a loneliness that crept in like mist, cold and without mercy, the kind of sorrow that even nightmares dare not speak of, the kind that lingers in the soul.