From Light to Dark

Ch.1
Present day

Mara sighed leaning over the leather couch for the universal remote. True Bloods credits vanished off the 76” as her delicate finger released the button, leaving the undead woman in complete darkness. The house, well mansion, felt dead to her. No heart pumping, no lungs taking in air, no blood flowing through its veins... just quiet. All servants had been dismissed from their duties a few hours earlier and Hakan's soft snoring nearly echoed through the dark corridors.

Mara ran her dainty fingers up and down her smooth pale legs, closing her eyes and relaxing into the couch. She spread her legs apart giving herself appropriate room to play. Mara trailed her nails up her inner thigh as she attempted to tease herself, trying to get her body to react to her touch. With her free hand, she began to snake it up her purple David Button t-shirt cupping her plump breast in a stone-like grasp . Her nails slid up the center hem of her denim short shorts, vibrating the entire sensitive area. She pushed two fingers down the same small area between her legs rubbing herself in small forceful circles. Mara could feel her womanhood tingle through the pesky material of her clothing. The pressure sent ripples of excitement through her small body urging herself to continue. Meanwhile the vampire teased her erect nipple from beneath her shirt and bra by pinching and rubbing it roughly between two fingers. As the two sensations swam through her, images of Daniel and herself played like a slide-show behind her closed eyelids. How his large green eyes would roll into the back of his head when she would slowly suck the length of his cock, pushing his head to the back of her throat...the way he would moan after she would call out his name when her orgasm would rampage and sizzle every cell in her body...the way he would draw mindless designs on her cold bare back as they relax and let their bodies calm down...or the cute way he would talk in his sleep...

She missed him.

Mara removed her hand from under her top with another sigh and stood lazily shuffling her way through the dark hallways toward the staircase to go to bed.

Though, after only going up a few steps, the fearless undead creature stopped and peered up the dark winding staircase.

What’s waiting for you up there?
A cold and empty bed?
Downy scented pillows and blankets?
Not even close to what’s normally waiting for you...a warmed bed...the room overflowing with Daniels scent...mmm, how his cologne mixed perfectly with the sweet scent of his blood...how his eyes hungrily drank up your presence no matter if you are in the sexiest outfit or the baggiest track pants

Mara audibly groaned and turned heading back down the stairs.

She found herself shuffling toward the kitchen blindly, weaving her way through the maze of darkened hallways. She passed several family photos of Daniel and Hakan along with one recently added photo of Daniel and herself. She paused before passing the picture, looking over her lovers bright smile and the tight embrace they were captured in. It brought a small smile to her face; they seemed almost normal.

Mara wandered mindlessly toward the blood cabinet, dragging her small feet the whole way. Cracking open a bottle she threw it into the microwave pressing “Quick-on 36°”. The low hum was by all means relaxing, taking up the lonely silence of the house. As the seconds ticked by, Mara leaned against the counter as her pale eyes roamed over her “new” kitchen, taking in the expensive detailing of...everything.

What a fucking house...I didn’t even know houses came this big...

But her inner words were interrupted by the annoying beeping of the microwave.

Mara turned and grabbed the bottle from the heating device and swished the sticky liquid within its container trying to even out the heat. The artificial scent hit her instantly, initiating the familiar clawing at her core. How the sharpened talons of her monstrous desire for blood dug itself into her body...into her mind.

Like a tidal wave, the night she will never forget for all eternity crashed its way into her focus...

Caerdydd, Cymru, 1809

“Oh dear, Gwyneth look at the time, I must be going. My poor husband will be furious with me if he notices how late I have stayed out.” Amaranta stood, smiling politely at her dearest childhood friend. “Thank you so much for the tea! It was positively delightful; exactly what I needed on such a blustery evening.”

“You are very welcome Amaranta. You know you are always welcome here. My tea will be ever flowing to your company.” The pudgier young woman stood as well and with a large smile she escorted Amaranta toward the front door.

Grabbing her navy blue silk shawl, Amaranta wrapped it around her shoulders to cover her smooth pale arms from the autumn’s cooler night for her short walk home. As the two woman walked, Amaranta smoothed out her bell shaped powder blue dress. She inspected herself briefly as she passed a full length mirror, ensuring she was appropriately covered to be out in public.

“Ugh, this new bodice is the most vexatious item of clothing I own. My dear husband bought it for me, so I have no other choice but to wear it.” Amaranta sighed fidgeting with the excruciatingly tight piece of clothing wrapped around her ribs and chest.

“Well, Zackeriah adorns you in such lavish clothing…although I’m positive he would much rather see them come off.” Gwyneth chuckled lightly looking around nervously hoping her father did not hear such a comment escape his innocent daughter’s mouth.

Amaranta frowned at her friend. “Gwyn, how dare you say such a disrespectful comment. What Zackeriah and I do in the privacy of our bedroom is none of your concern. And, whether or not my husband enjoys my clothing on or off my body are questions you should-not-be filling your head with.” Her hushed tone was stern as she spoke her mind quickly. “Jealousy does not suit you well.”

Pudgy Gwyn lowered her plain brown eyes to the rug just before her oak door. “Forgive me Amaranta. You are correct, that was rude. My sincerest apologies my dear friend.”

“I shall see you in church tomorrow morning Gwyn. Have a lovely evening.” Without giving her round friend time to respond, Amaranta exited the humble abode and hurried into the darkened streets.

The streets felt dead. No heart pumping, no lungs taking in air, no blood flowing through its veins... just quiet. The echo of her low heeled boots against the cobble stone reminded her of a cow bell...how loud the noise seemed in the empty streets. Amaranta could see her house now on her short journey down , the front door just barely already coming into view.

“Oi, looky ‘ere at dis one eh! Oh, dis lass be pretty one! Dat witch was nah lyin’.” A man creeped out from the shadows of an alley just behind her.

Amaranta’s deep green eyes bulged at the sight of the dirty man as she turned behind her to look at him. Her eyes roamed over his dirty face, eyeing the sores around his cracked lips. His ripped and filthy clothes only frightened her more as she watched him emerge into the moon light. Her pace instantly quickened along with her heart beat as fear exploded within her small body. Before she could turn around, she walked straight into another human. This one, a woman with missing teeth and running makeup, grabbed at Amaranta’s shoulders squeezing her nails into the soft pale flesh. The woman’s stained and ripped red dress hung from her boney frame, looking as though it would fall off at the smallest of movements. She smelt of alcohol and men infused with strong body odour...the mix making Amaranta’s mind swim close to collapsing.

“OOOOO,” The toothless woman shrieked into Amaranta’s face digging her nails harder, “I betchia she be a clean one, eh? A screamer, das what chia is...”

“Release me!” Amaranta struggled pushing at the woman’s boney shoulders, causing them to separate.

“What...what do you want w-with me?” Her voice rattled with her body; shivering from the knowledge she’s about to die. The round green orbs in her small pretty face flashed between the two humans repeatedly waiting for an answer as she continued to back away from the both of them.

You can get out of this...think quick, be fast.

But then her shoulders touched against the smooth cold bricks of a wall.

Amaranta jerked and looked on either side of her; panic stabbing painfully through her body. Her heart pounded so hard in her ears she could feel herself becoming light headed.

There's no way out..I can’t run...I can’t...

“Awww, look at ‘er shakin’ der like a leaf! She be scared o’ya Phelip!” The woman laughed loudly at herself swaying dangerously from all the booze in her system.

The man smiled greedily as he nears Amaranta's shaking form. She stared at him dreading every step he took closer to her.

“ HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE HE-“ Amaranta screamed at the top of her lungs. Her velvet voice echoed against the cold walls before the man’s cold gruby hands covered her plump lips.

“Now, now lass,” The man sighed glancing around the group, “Ya dun wanna cause us any trouble...or else, I be bleedin ya throat right ‘ere.” His voice became low and serious as he leaned forward closer to Amaranta’s pale face. “Lass, ya do what we tell ya. Ya nah obey...” The sick man ruffled through one of his pockets and took out a rusting switchblade, “We make ya obey. Ya hearin me clearleh lass?” With a low chuckle, he ran his greasy nose up her tear soaked cheek pressing his body against her own. He pressed the sharpened blade down her neck to her collar bone, teasing her with the weapon.

Sobbing silently, Amaranta just nodded not trusting her voice.

“Der ya go lass, das what I want to ‘ear...” With his hand pressed roughly over her mouth, he grabbed at her cheeks and forced her off the wall and toward a dark alleyway no more than several paces away.
Amaranta allowed herself to be led toward the darkened space with wobbly legs. Her small human mind raced with possibilities of escaping...and of dying.

Ch.2

“Why do ya get’er first? I wanna ‘ave a go!” The abused whore whined loudly as the group shuffled their way into the dark alley.

“I get ‘er first cause I say so!” The man holding Amaranta’s face sneered back at the drunken woman. “She be a better fuck than ya, and I wanna make it count. Dis lass be screamin...beggin’ me to stop...” He chuckled and threw Amaranta’s shaking body into the darkness.

Amaranta stumbled and fell to the cold cobblestone tripping on her own dress. Skidding on her hands, she fell to one hip and turned to see her two kidnappers.

“ I..I have money...” Amaranta pleaded trying to avoid glancing down at her bloody palms, “Anything you want...I..I can g-get for you...”She started to sob harder feeling desperate, “please...I beg of you...just let me go.”

Amaranta trembled on the damp stones as the two humans bickered above her. She wiped at the tears from her cheeks; the sting of her bloody hands sending a slow throbbing sensation through her arms.
“Aye, ya are my wench. Along wit every other bloke in tha town.” The man tore his gaze from Amaranta to his filthy companion. “Now, I need ya to ‘old ‘er hands down.” He motioned with his head toward Amaranta on the ground.

Now! Go! Do something!

With a sudden burst of desperate energy, Amaranta stood on weak legs and rushed the drunken woman on the far side of the alleys opening. Hands stretched out, Amaranta ran as fast as she could trying to knock the foul smelling whore out of her way. Amaranta reached the woman, even had her hands touching the cold clammy skin of the sickly female’s shoulders, but she missed the man’s heavy fist flying at her face. He landed his punch squarely in the side of Amaranta’s head, causing her to topple over and smack against the brick of the building beside them.

“Oi, get off a me!” The woman shrieked moving away from Amaranta’s limp body.

“SH! Are ya feckin nuts? Keep ya damned voice down woman!” The man lifted his fist to his companion, sneering at her.

Amaranta ricocheted off the brick wall and staggered backwards with her bloody hands holding her bleeding head. Her mind screamed at her as the world around her became dim and foggy. As she staggered, she fumbled on her own feet and fell back landing hard on her ass. Keeping a small hand on her pounding head, Amaranta leaned to the side supported by her left hand.

Stay awake! You go out and you’re dead! STAY AWAKE!

Amaranta groaned and tried to pull herself out of the unconscious hole she was drifting toward. She could hear the two criminals talking, but they were just muffled voices behind the slow ringing in her ears. Under her hair on the right side of her head was a large gash that had been bleeding into her silky brown hair. She could feel the pulse of her head continually push the blood out on to her scalp nearly causing her to gag.

Suddenly, she felt cold boney hands grab at her wrists, yanking her body down further onto the freezing damp cobble stones. Amaranta’s heart jolted with panic as her body was moved for her. It pounded mercilessly within her chest, painfully pumping blood furiously through her veins.

“No…No, please..stop. Release me! I demand that you RELEASE ME AT ONCE!” Amaranta shrieked and wailed fighting against the woman holding her wrists. As much as her head hurt, she was fully awake and extremely aware of what was going on around her.

The man who had been standing at Amaranta’s feet now was abruptly kneeling, placing his shins on her ankles keeping them from kicking anything important. Amaranta's tear-moistened left cheek was struck with a back-handed slap as the man leaned over her struggling body. The crack from the hit exploded in the dark alleyway, echoing all the way to the opposite end. Amaranta whimpered as the pain began to seep though the initial numbness of the hit. Within seconds of the hit, she felt her skin tighten and throb as her cheek started to swell.

“OI! Shu' up!” The man above her warned. Supporting his body weight with one hand, he grabbed at Amarantas face with the other, pressing his palm over her mouth and squeezing her cheeks agonizingly against her teeth once more. He continued to lean forward, now pushing down on Amarantas face, crushing the back of her head into the cobble stone. Moving off his supporting hand, he took the rusted switchblade from his pocket and began to slowly saw at Amarantas dress starting at the very small and modest line of cleavage in the center of her chest.

Amaranta squeezed her eyes shut as the surprisingly sharp piece of metal cut its way down her body. Cutting at her modesty, her dignity and her hope of getting out of the situation. Hot burning tears streamed down the sides of her pale face soaking the deep brown hair at her temples.

God of mercy,
you know the.....secrets of all human hearts,
for you know who is just and you forgive the repentant
sinner.
H..Hear...my prayer in the m...midst of destruction;
give me patience and h..h..hope,
so that under your protection....and with you as my guide,
I may one...one day be reunited with mmmy family and friends
in peace, tranquility, and love.
Grant this through Christ our Lord.

“ Oi me maker..look at dees....” The kidnapper on top of Amaranta's body whispered to his accomplice. With the switchblade in hand, he grabbed a dirty handful of her right plump breast quickly after ripping her once vexatious bodice open. He leaned all the way down and with a quick movement of his hand, he released her breast from it's concealment behind her corset watching with greedy eyes as Amaranta's small perfect rosebud nipple protruded in the cold night air. With an exaggerated lick, his diseased tongue flicked and played over her sensitive skin. He sucked on it, nipping roughly at the darker pink skin, pressing his greasy face down into her soft breast.


B..Behold me, my beloved Jesus,
weighed down under the burden of m....my..my trials and sufferings,
I cast myself at Your f-feet,
that You may renew my strength and my courage,
while I rest here ..here...in Your Presence.
Permit me to lay down my cross in Your SSSacred Heart,
for only Your infinite....good...goodness can sustain me;
only Your love cccan help me b...bear my cr...cross;
only Your powerful hand can lighten its...its weight.

Amaranta squeezed her eyes closed as her muffled sobs pressed against the grubby palm at her face. Her hands scratched at the whores wrists to let her free..but her struggle seemed to have no affect on the woman. Amaranta's cold and helpless body jittered against her human restraints as well as the cobble stones beneath her. Amarantas cries peeked as soon as the mans hot mouth encloses her protruding nipple. The normally sensual feeling made her want to vomit...she could feel the bile bubble deep down in her body threatening to be spewed up through her nostrils and over the mans hand at her mouth.

The revolting man opened his eyes as Amarantas muffled cries became louder. His hand eased up in her face as he leaned up releasing her breast from his mouth. But, before Amaranta could have gotten a decent scream, his fist came flying back down smashing squarely on her right cheek. Her head cracked to the side and her eyes rolled to the back of her head...she was drowning in pain...in confusion...in torture. Everything went black in Amaranta's vision, but she could still feel the pressure on her wrists and ankles keeping her pinned down.

“O...D..Divine..King, Jesus,” Amaranta whispered...the words flew past her lips in weak desperation. Her head lolled back and her eyes continued to roll in her head as she forced herself to keep conscious. “whoes...hea..rt is so com...pass..ion...ionate to....the..a..af..afflicted...” Blood spilt from the swelling cut on her face. It lazily rolled down her pale skin and began to collect in her ear. Her world was spinning: nothing was how it should be.


“Phelip...Phelip..she be prayin'...” The drunken woman’s face lost it's grin and was instead replaced with nervousness. “Maybe...ya needa stop, eh? Ya be 'itin' 'er hard...look at 'er. Da poor tings brains be scrambled....”

The man hovering over Amaranta's now limp body just grinned, pleased with himself. “Aye..now she na be fightin' so 'ard...” With hurried and clumsy movements the man moved his body, sliding his legs up to around Amarantas hips to steady his balance. With a free hand, he grabbed a hold of the waist band of her skirt and started to saw down the powder blue material with his switchblade in the other.

“I..I wish to...live in you...” Amaranta's voice gained some strength as her mind untangled itself from the darkness trying to creep over her senses. “sss...suffer and..die in you...Oh..L...Lord...at my hour of...hour of death..b..be my..hope...hope and...be my..rr...refuge..”

The man threw his switchblade aside and resorted to ripping her skirt the rest of the way. The tearing of material stabbed at Amaranta's consciousness...warning bells started to go off inside her confused and numbed mind. Her mindless praying ceased and her unfocused eyes tried to watch what is happening at below her waist.

“Wait...p..please..don't..s..stop it..” Amaranta started to stir again. Her once immobilized limbs now gaining more movement since the plainly disturbed man atop of her now leaned higher up her body.

He hissed as Amaranta's movements kept him from reaching his goal quicker. “Oi said,” The man lifted his thick fist and brought it down colliding with the side of her small body with a sickening crack. Two fragile ribs fractured under the powerful hit. Amaranta screamed as the jolt of pain woke her from the haziness her mind was in. “Shu'up!” He swung his hand down again, his time in a more karate-chop style to Amaranta's slender neck. From the painfully accurate hit, Amaranta's eyes widened and her body tensed causing her frame to want to curl as the excruciating pain stabbed at her mind and will power. A disgusting gurgle rippled from the back of Amaranta's throat as her voice became lost within her swelling neck. Her hands tightened around the, now scared, whore's wrists as the throbbing pain spread through her neck. Amaranta struggled to take in oxygen as the agony of her ribs and the tightening of her windpipe difficulted such a simple task. “No more of ya prayin either. Do oi look like a 'oly man to ya?” He snickered watching her squirm in pain under him. His cock throbbed against his filthy pants as he watched fresh hot tears stream down Amaranta's temples.

“Phelip...ya be one sick fecker...I dun wanna do dis no more..she be dead by the time ye finish..” The woman holding down Amaranta's hands whined. Her face was contorted into disgust as she watched Amaranta's helpless body gasp, gurgle and squirm before her.

Our F..Father who...art in...Heaven,
hallowed be...be..thy name...

Amarantas body stopped fighting...her mind seeped lower into the darkness of the pain swallowing her consciousness. Her breathing came in low shallow gasps and her eyelids refused to open. Her mind was lost in a sea of hurt, a sea of regret and humiliation. Amaranta didn't even bother to whimper as she felt cold, dirty hands slide under her clean undergarments toward her sacred womanhood.

Thy...ki..ingdom come,
Thy...thy will be..done,

With greedy stubby fingers, the mans hand smoothed over curly untamed hair pushing past the natural barriers of her folds to the inner warmth of Amaranta's body. With one quick shove, the man forced two fingers into her bone dry hole. Her body reacted even if her mind is preoccupied with the throbbing sensation around her body by jerking at the uncomfortable skinning feeling of her sensitive area.
“Oooo, ya didn't like dat eh?” He grined maliciously, “Lemmy try again...”

On...on......earth...as..i...in Heaven
Give....this...our..dai..daily....bread..

His grime covered fingers stabbed repeatedly deep into Amarantas sensitive and small womanhood. Liquid...moisture of some sort eased the tearing feeling making the violation of her body less agonizing regardless if she knew whats happening to her. He watched Amaranta's face like a hawk as he forcefully plunged his phalanges deeper and deeper, wiggling them around to try and get some sort of pleasurable reaction of his beautiful, bleeding victim.

The woman holding Amarantas wrists looked away as her partner in crime took complete advantage of the woman out cold on the hard cobble stone. The whore winced as she felt Amarantas body move in unresponsive rhythmic jerks as the mans fingers worked between her victims legs. The show before her sent chills up her spine...like a memory she suppressed was coming back, burning it's way into her mind.
But, Amaranta had been sucked too deep...sucked down into the pits of Hell themselves to thankfully be aware of what was happening. Lying there getting weaker as more blood is pumped from all her wounds, including the bleeding torn mess between her legs, she let go of herself...let her grip of life, of sanity go. Amaranta felt her mind slip through her fingers, departing from her broken body. For the first time since leaving pudgy Gwyns house, Amaranta felt calm and safe as she waited for God, her Savior, to guide her into the light.

***

Far off in the back of the darkened alleyway, bright red pulsing eyes watched the small group of humans...calculating....yearning as the curiosity of the beast pushed it's undead form toward them masked by the shadows of the night.


Ch.3

“Phelip...oi Phelip ya killed her.” The panicking whore's face contorted into a state of shock. Short nervous gasps began to sharply exit the woman's mouth as she stared down at their unmoving victim.

“She nah be dead.” Phelip mumbled as he continued to wiggle and slide his blood covered fingers in and out of Amaranta's body. His cock pushed annoyingly against the dirty cotton of his trousers; aroused at the illusion of her submissiveness. “I can feel 'er pulse. She just nah fightin'...” He grinned, the muscles in his hand and forearm burning from its constant pointless movements. “She knows dats best...knows who be in charge.” His manhood throbbed again at his forced dominance.

The woman's greasy locks jerked stiffly as her head quickly shook back and forth. “Phelip, me done 'ere. Dis nah be right.” Her voice, though smooth with booze, spiked with emotion. She stood on wobbly boney legs, scurrying backwards to keep from falling over.

“OI! Get yer arse back 'ere and 'old dis cunt down!” He sneered up at her, his hand unmoving for the moment. Piercing dark eyes glared at his accomplice. “You tink she be messed up, ya will see what I can do iffen ya dun get back 'ere and 'old 'er wrists.”

Knowing Phelip, the whore just shook her head “no” again and turned running out of the alleyway as fast as she could; away from the painful scene and raw memories of her past.

“Fecken useless.” He mumbled retuning his attention to the beauty before him. “Ya better nah be runnin' from me too.” He snorted in amusement as he spoke to Amaranta, his fingers thankfully sliding out of her skinned, raw channel.

His bloodied hand steamed in the crisp night air from the amount of blood and natural liquid he forced from Amaranta's body. He brought his hand closer to to his face, examining it under the pale moon light. Though the blood did nothing for him, the mixed smell of her arousal with the blood got his stomach muscles to tighten along with another throb from down below. His dark eyes moved past his wet hand to Amaranta, studying her through lustful eyes.

The half unconscious woman lying on the ground before him was gorgeous. Her smooth olive toned skin, bright large green eyes, deep chestnut hair, petite body frame added with the luxury of naturally superior curves made Amaranta physically near unforgettable. Her kidnapper knew this from the moment he saw her hurriedly make her way from her friends front door. Even now, with her face red, blue and purple, swollen from the beatings and bleeding from the sliced skin on her cheeks, he still thought she was beautiful. Her long hair was haphazardly arranged around her head and shoulders with a section slowly darkening from the gash in the side of her head. Her neck was matching her face, swollen and bruising from the hit to cut off her praying. He looked past all that however, concentrating on her full lips, on the smooth skin not yet tainted by bruising or blood. He also noted on the way she oddly seemed calmly at peace. His eyes slid down from her face to her exposed chest. He bit down on his lower lip involuntarily as her puckered rosebud nipple slid into his focus. The top of her dress had been cut and torn away from her chest. Lying open, it revealed her corset with a cream coloured breast removed from its place. His cooling hand ached to touch...to grope what was rightfully his to take. His hands moved, though not toward her body, but to his own. Quickly undoing his cheap cotton pants, he manoeuvred his hard length from its cotton prison squeezing it with a blood soaked palm. The sudden rush of cold liquid made his large frame jerk, but soon after the motions began, he relaxed. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as his mind wandered in anticipation. Licking his diseased lips, his eyes peeked open to finish their trail down Amaranta`s body. Her skirt was sliced then ripped down to her knees along with her small clothes and underskirt. He let out a grunt of need as his hand slid over his sensitive swollen member eyeing the dark curls through the opening of her clothing. Not wanting to let go of his warm, stiff and blood smeared cock, his free hand began to slowly peel Amaranta`s skirt down her hips watching intently as inch by inch her smooth pale skin was revealed to him.

***

Shadowed by the darkness of the alleyway, a man once known as Vincent DePaul, slid long a wall toward the group of humans. His unnatural glowing red eyes stared intently at the scene further up the cramped, narrow space. Every precise footfall landed silently and completely unnoticed by the small group as he neared them. Though he has no heart beat, he struggled to keep his breathing calmed and controlled. He gulped several times on his slow approach, downing mouthful after mouthful of paralyzing venom.

Placing himself behind some staked creates, he listened in on the small action several feet from him. Closing his eyes he could smell the fear, arousal and booze drift down the small space with the chilly nights breeze. In his perfect hearing, Vincent heard the muffled cries of the two kidnappers victim. Her agony and humiliation fueled his dark need for corruption. He was a monster, he knew nothing else than the glory of taking what he needed and wanted: much like the man facing away from Vincent was doing.

Each time the mans hand flew down and collided with the woman's body however, Vincent’s own body jerked forward. Pain. He could feel the victims pain as though it were his own. Not used to the hypersensitivity of his newly acquired undead senses, he frowned as each strike to her was like a strike to his once whole humanity. He could feel their victim was losing all hope...her will to survive diminishing with each panicked flutter of her heart. He could sense the adrenaline pumping painfully through her pinned limbs, aching to punch, kick, claw, anything to get away from the other two.

Vincent's muscles tensed as he began to hear the victims prayers in her mind. He hissed quietly feeling his skin crawl with the words he too was taught long ago. His hands clenched into fists as her words drifted to an echo in his own chaotic mind. A low rippling growl bloomed in his chest, his eyes widened and he curled back his lips, revealing a row of unnatural sharpened humanoid teeth.

The newly undead man crouched, calculating the best approach to take down the weak man and his sex smelling accomplice when the whore stood unexpectedly. Vincent's bright eyes studied the woman as she trembled in the moonlight. His features frowned for an instant, assuming the fear he felt was from their victim. He waited watching as the two humans conversed before she ran , holding her filthy dress in both boney hands.

Vincent's attention was drawn back to the man and his trophy as a strong breeze drifted down from the opening, carrying the powerful gust of pheromones and blood. The smell of a human man did nothing for him, but the bittersweet tang of the woman's blood sent Vincent's senses into a frenzy. His entire body tensed again, resisting the urge to kill her first. He would slowly teach himself some discipline with his feeding, or he would become a helpless immortal found and staked before he could really enjoy his new life.

Taking in another uneven breath, Vincent moved away from the crates and lunged forward at the man, flying several feet before colliding into his back. The man, which smelt no better than the musty smelling prostitute, called out in utter shock as his body was propelled forward. From the force Vincent used, the two men easily flew right over the nearly dead woman on the ground. Landing in a heap, Vincent easily pulled and tugged the trembling confused man in which ever way he needed. Not bothering with introductions, Vincent roared and sank his sharp white fangs deep into the mans neck sucking back a mouthful of diseased blood. At the first taste, Vincent ripped his mouth off the mans neck tearing a large chunk of hot, steaming flesh before spitting it out with a low grunt. With a disgusted frown, Vincent eyed the dying man with distaste.

“You taste worst than you smell.” He sneered wiping his bloody mouth on his arm.

The man screamed out in agony as his flesh was penetrated savagely, every muscle in his body tensed in sheer terror. Landing painfully on his stomach, the man uselessly tried to push himself up then tried to ram a pointed elbow back at his attacker. His attempt was futile as the venom coursed through his human body paralysed him stiff. Another gurgled grunt forced itself from his mouth as his world quickly faded to black in time with the deep red liquid gushing from his open wound.

Standing, Vincent turned his attention to the sweet smelling woman on the ground behind him with an evil, manipulative smile.

***

Her body felt feather light as her blood seeped from her body onto the cold stones beneath her. Amaranta welcomed death as it made its slow approach, knowing she would be accepted into Heaven without a second thought. After all, that was the only reason she agreed to accompany her parents to church nearly every day.

In her last dying moments, she heard some shuffling then a muffled scream and instantly the pressure that was about her thighs disappeared. Amaranta's instincts kicked in and she tried to push herself back into a more focused state of mind. Her head hurt, it pounded under her skull so intensely that it threatened to bring her under once more. Her limbs that were intent on fighting till her last breath seemed heavy and numb: too cold to be useful. Breathing hurt too as she tried painfully to keep the cold oxygen flowing in and out of her lungs. She felt so tired, so drained of life, love and hope that she resisted the urge to live. Amaranta felt a presence beside her...hovering over her form, causing a low, painful heart ache filled with understanding.

Fresh tears swelled behind Amaranta's closed eyes ,seeping through her thick black lashes. Although her mind was far from resurfacing, she understood what that presence was. What it was doing at her side. It felt unworldly and unnatural to her subconscious mind, yet soothing in an odd way. With little strength, Amaranta replayed the prayer she had heard at the funerals she had attended, being forced to learn each and every prayer.

Most...Sacred He-Heart of Jesus,
I accept.....from...from Your hands whatev...er kind of death
it may please Y-You to send.....me this night
with, with all its pains, penal-penalties and...sorrows;
in reparation for.....my sins,
for the the ssssouls in Purgatory,
for all those who will d-d-die today
and for Your greater glorrry.
Amen

With her memory now come and gone, Amaranta gladly released her soul for the angel at her side to take.

I am not your God, mortal one.

A foreign voice penetrated her foggy, collapsing mind.

Though, I am your savior. I shall bring you forth from the death that surrounds you and grant you immortal life, my childe.

Pressure.

All Amaranta could feel at first was pressure on her swollen neck, then to her lips. Dangling at the very edge of death and life, she stays in this hazy limbo for what seemed an eternity.
Back and forth. Neck to lips, neck to lips, neck to lips.

Amaranta found herself moving into the pressure at her lips, knowing it always came after the pressure at her neck. As if being tugged by her mind, slowly she began to slip back into her own skin. Feeling began to regenerate into her once numb limbs and her body began to tremble from the cool night air.
Neck to lips, neck to lips, neck to lips.

As the sensations around her body begin to awaken, a low tingling throb tickled at her body. It started in her core, like an itch she can't scratch. It warmed her against the nights breeze, radiating like the heat of fire.

Now being able to move her limbs, Amaranta groaned harshly, only recently remembering how swollen her throat was. Her mouth tasted bitter with a foreign sticky substance coating her tongue and lips.

Peeking her eyes open, she found herself staring right into bright red glowing eyes. Amaranta sucked in a sharp startled breath to only cringe and curl her body at the sudden pain in her side as her fractured ribs expanded then contracted within seconds. Her eyes squeezed shut as the excruciating pain flares to life. Instantly, Amaranta becomes unnaturally alert of her surroundings. Painfully gasping for air, she took a quick look around. Firstly down at herself, where she quickly fixed her clothing enough to cover exposed areas.

Amaranta was very aware of the glowing crimson eyes still staring at her back. Once covered, she whipped her head up to stare back at the being. Her body ached all over, even from her lying position. Though it ached, the pain was manageable. She wasn’t crying or moaning with discomfort, which was odd for Amaranta. She stared at the creature as it stared back, saying nothing. He seemed to be studying her...watching her reactions like a hawk. Crouched beside her, his head cocked to the side as those bright red orbs burned into her skin.

Burning...she felt the pain intensify within her core. The tingling had gotten worse with each moment, radiating and stinging at her cells. Amaranta frowns finally as her inner organs began to throb. She lets out a small cry and tore her stare form the being beside her to look down at her body. She squeezed her eyes shut as the throb intensified, burning through her centre then down her thighs and biceps all the way to her toes and fingertips. Amaranta curls herself into the fetal position gurgling through hyperventilation. A sheen of moisture covers her pale skin as her body boiled from the inside out.

“Wh..at di.. y..you...do..t...me?” She asked through a clenched jaw before she lets out another painful scream of agony into the darkness of the night.

Ch.4

“Where is that woman?” Augustus St. Clair wondered aloud at his son-in-aw once a cloud of light cigar smoke floated above his field of vision.

“Your daughter went to visit a friend, Gwyneth, several hours ago.” Zackariah explained glancing up at the grandfather clock in the corner of the cigar room.

“My daughter should know better then to keep her husband waiting.” The older man huffed reaching for his brandy.

“Indeed. I shall give her another few minutes before I go over and bring her home myself. It s not like her to be so disrespectful.” Zackeriah followed his father-in-laws example and finished off his own brandy. He disliked the burning the alcohol had on his insides, but would not dare refuse a glass from Augustus. The bitter taste left in his mouth was lost however on the sweet knowledge that his pretty newly-wed wife was surely dead. He fought the urge to smile, knowing her parents fortune was now all his. With her older sister out of the picture and happily unmarried, the St. Clair's would soon be dead as well leaving him with riches beyond his immortal imagination.

He'd been playing this repetitive game for far too long. Going from rich family to rich family becoming a suitor then husband for countless pathetic girls who just want a man to look after them. Catering to desperate parents who would do anything to ship their daughters off with any decent man was easy enough. All the man needed was money and some table manners.

He was a genius at playing with human minds, manipulating them to do whatever he requested. It was a far too easy task when he threatened to rip out Phelip's throat with his bare hands unless he kidnapped and killed Amaranta on her way home. He was a born actor, never once giving away the fact he had been immortal for centuries. Feeble minds were easily manipulated with his uniquely strong mind control abilities; making them believe whatever he wanted.

Child's play.

Amaranta was not a special case to him in the least. She was gorgeous, which made it easy for him to agree to be around her, but her smart wit and annoying outlook on knowledge and information was draining. She was a skilled lover, which was a bonus, but he would still be glad to find her bleeding on the cobble stone in a few minutes when he decides to “search” for her.

“...and you know what I said? I told the bloody man to speak to my lawyer and walked out.” Augustus laughed, his large body bouncing with the jolly roundness of his frame.

“Did you now? Ha, Augustus you sure know how to put a man in his place.” Zackeriah feigned amusement and smiled at the man as if he was actually paying attention to the lengthy pointless story. “I think I shall go and find your daughter now, since she has apparently lost track of time.” Zackeriah stood, straightening out his hand tailored suit jacket and vest. “Perhaps you and Mrs. St. Clair should head on off to bed? It is rather late. Your daughter will make it home safe and sound, I promise you.” Zackeriah locked his eyes with Augustus' and pushed his thought into the hot-headed humans mind.

There was a haunting silence that hung in the air for several seconds until Amaranta's father stood abruptly. “You are absolutely right, my boy. Have a good night and please tell my disrespectful daughter I wish to speak with her in the morning.” With a slight nod of his head, Augustus left the cigar room calling out to his wife that it was time for bed.

“Too late for that old man.” Zackeriah snorted making his way through the empty house to grab his coat and head out into the night to find his beloved.

***

She wished she was dead.

Death would have been easier than whatever was happening to her.

Amaranta's body curled and twisted as she burned from the inside out. She was screaming as loud as she could as every cell in her body began to mutate. Spikes of unholy pain clawed and stabbed at her organs as they died inside her body. She couldn't think...couldn't feel...couldn't even breathe. Her mind was a scramble of every emotion, every thought and dream she ever had mixed with the simple searing pain of transforming. She was conscious enough to feel the torture of becoming reborn. She had no room in her chaotic dying mind for fear and desperation. All she could think about, dream about and worry about was the pain.

***

Yes, it hurts. But I can assure you my childe, the pain you feel will be gone before long.

Vincent watched as Amaranta screamed and withered before his red eyes. The transformation process was a simple task, though it needed great concentration to not kill the human host. Vincent had transformed several other humans in his immortal lifetime, though none were as beautiful as her.

He winced as a high pitched scream rose from Amaranta's mouth, piercing his unnaturally superior hearing. Thinking quickly, he reached over an broke off a section off a wooden crate nearby shoving the dirty piece of wood into Amaranta's mouth.

It would be wise that you keep your voice controlled for you risk being caught and killed instantly.

Vincent knew she probably didn't hear his voice in her mind from the tremendous amounts of pain she was in, but tried to warn her anyway. He stood and grabbed a handful of her warm brown hair and began to drag her deeper into the alleyway.

Now, where to put you? I suppose I can make room along side my coffin perhaps. Indeed, you are a beauty my childe. You shall become useful in baiting our meals...

Vincent tugged the screeching, curling, dying woman by her long hair further into the darkness of the alleyway. He could feel her hair being slowly pulled out by the roots as she squirmed against the rough cobble stone. He knew she would thank him eventually....saving her from death and to be brought into a world of mystery and power. She will be unstoppable, fearless and powerful. Vincent knew, looking down at her as he dragged her forward, that she will be something special to the world of the undead.

He would make it so.

Coming to the end of the alleyway, Vincent stopped dead in his tracks. He smelt someone at the opening of the small space between the buildings. It was another immortal. The smell of the bleeding man at the opening must have drawn the monsters attention. Vincent, still holding Amaranta's hair growls defensively knowing the other undead will hear him.

This one is mine....

He projected into the others mind. He would not give the other undead what he created....she was a gem he was to keep for himself.

A throaty, aggressive hiss echoed back warning Vincent of what may be fall him if he does not let his childe go.

“You moronic waste of decaying flesh! She is not yours, she is MY wife.” Zackeriah's lip curled back as his body lowered into a crouch, daring the fledgling to fight him.

Vincent weighed his options carefully. This woman, painfully dying in his grasp had the ability to be a masterpiece of the undead world; a hauntingly beautiful specimen capable of anything. He knew she had potential....but was it enough to risk his own immortal life?

His glowing red eyes befell upon Amaranta for the last time, watching her squirm and writhe in torture. He observed her gorgeously symmetrical face be lined in blood spilling from her mouth and ears. Such a shame he would leave her...leave her with no hope to fulfil her destiny.

Vincent relaxed and straightened, letting his grip of Amaranta's hair go, causing the screeching woman to fall fully to the ground curling then spazzing where she landed.

Very well. Take her...but, do not take this gem for granted. She will be better than all, I can feel her destiny will be great.

“Do not talk to me about my wife's destiny you low life, rat sucking ignorant monster! What happens to my wife is by my choosing only, she will be what I choose.” Zackeriah snarled back, unworldly rage licking his body. Although Zackeriah wanted his pretty wife dead, she was still his. He owned her.
Vincent felt his body react to the threat, inching backwards like he coward he is. With a final snarl, Vincent turned and headed down a separate alley, leaving his treasure in the hands of the other undead.

***.

Watching the younger vampire drop Amaranta sent ripples of anger through Zackeriah. She was his and only his, how dare that filthy monster touch his wife. In a heated stride, Zackeriah was right at Amaranta's side looking down at her blood covered squirming body. He sighed as thoughts of his own transformation sank into his chaotic calculating mind. He weighed the outcome of the sudden ironic turn of events.

He'd never transform anyone and although Amaranta really wouldn't have any actual bonds to him, he could manipulate her to think he was her Sire.

She could come in handy---

Whether it was guilt or curiosity that made him save her life no one would know, but with an impatient sigh Zackeriah bent and picked up Amaranta from the cold cobblestone hulling her over a shoulder regardless of her withering and muffled screeching. Without a single word to his wife, Zackeriah ran at full immortal speed back to their house several miles away, where he tied her to the bed just waiting for the transformation to be complete.

From deep within the darkness of the alleyway, Amaranta's life changed. Where her God had left her to die, Evil had taken her and given her a second chance.