Cry of the Vampire

Cry of the Vampire

Tears seared his cheeks. Vampires weren’t meant to cry. He stood above his second and less merciful creator. The fires of hell and the wrath of Lucifer burned in him. The mock creator lay on the floor. One of them would burn this night.

It was not always this way…

Damon Wells was a martial arts instructor. He had studied and then taught various forms of martial arts; dedicated his life to fighting. He was into his second year of marriage, his wife Marie was the love of his life, and their son James just three years old was his pride and joy. Together they meant everything to him.

Damon was twenty-eight years old when the dark creator appeared in his life.

‘You are the warrior, no?’ the voice as chilling as death, had come from the shadows between his car and the park. A barely visible silhouette seemed to be leaning against the bars of the fence. Damon had come out of the sports centre where he trained; it backed up onto a large park, separated by a tall green bar fence.

‘Yes, I teach martial arts.’ Damon was surprised to hear a tremor in his usually calm voice.

‘A fighter, yes, but are you a warrior.’ His deep voice was fierce yet melodic. ‘Would you fight for honor, are you brave, would you face death!’ his final word was bellowed brutally. He laughed coldly.

‘Who are you? What do you want with me?’ fear gripped him now, a terror so pure he was shaking.

‘Who am I? I am the devil’s advocate, blood of Hades, son of Satan, child of legion, born of Lucifer to serve him always. I am pure, I am the first, I am vampire.’ 

‘What the hell-’

‘Hell! Home, oh how I miss it. Callous, that is my name now, for many centuries. But what do I want with you? Ah, now that is a question. I want you to die and be reborn; you lived a warrior and may die one. But live on you shall, a demon of night, feared by all, my dark apprentice. You shall be great.’

‘I’ll pass for now, but thanks.’ The power of the man’s voice had been mesmerizing, Damon had found himself believing. Now he was angry at himself but more amused than anything else, this man in shadows was very convincing. ‘I’ll be going home now, hope the next few centuries treat you well.’ Damon opened his car door. ‘Until next time.’

‘Say hello to Marie and James for me.’

Damon froze. ‘What did you say!?’ Fear was back in him, great fear.

Callous stepped out from the shadows. His face seemed to stay in darkness, but his silhouette was now easily discernible from the night. He was impressive even in such darkness as the November night presented. Callous was at least six foot four, a full four inches taller than Damon. He was thin and lithe, he moved forward with grace that seemed otherworldly, as if he needed no ground to walk upon he just walked on it to conform. He seemed to glide wraithlike through the darkness until he was only an arm’s length away from Damon. Still his face was in shadows, but when he spoke the moonlight glimmered off his teeth. Damon was not surprised to see fangs.

Damon was confused. Should he truly fear this man, this thing? Instinct said yes. He didn’t know how much of Callous’ words were truth and how much madness, but he knew that he was dangerous.

‘Damon my dear boy, I offer eternal life and the power to destroy, a power that only gods and tyrants have to this day wielded. You won’t be able to create us, that is a joy solely for me and the other elite, but power beyond mere strength I can grant.’ His calm voice was filled with unmistakable desire.

‘And if I decline your generous off-‘

‘- I will kill you. I will kill Marie and James, and make them slaves, damned and powerless for all eternity.’ Callous’ voice was as calm as if he was ordering a coffee, although coffee probably wasn’t his drink of choice.

Damon’s fear became anger. A deep pool of rage began to bubble. He preferred this rage to the helplessness of fear. He knew how this would have to end, he would kill Callous, vampire or not. Damon was an extremely capable fighter, he had devoted his life to the arts and understood them truly. Callous would fall.

‘Ah you wish to fight. Very well, this will be interesting.’ Callous turned and ran towards the six-foot fence and leapt over it, his feet touched the top of the bars and propelled him upwards he seemed weightless, as he glided down landing of the dry grass of the park silently. ‘Your house for dinner tonight, I assume. That is, unless you stop me.’ He laughed into the night.

Damon ran and bounded over the fence, not with half Callous’ grace but he made it over unharmed. He looked up. No Callous. There was nothing but darkness. The meager light of the moon revealed little. Had he dreamed it all, was this but a nightmare of a tired mind-

‘I am no nightmare, no imagining, no matter how you may hope it.’ The voice echoed from all directions, and then from only one; directly behind. Damon turned, Callous stood there now fully illuminated. His face visible.

Damon couldn’t help but be struck by Callous’ looks, he was truly striking. His black hair fell neatly over his pale face; huge night sky eyes shone with a terrible light, the moon couldn’t touch them. They pierced his soul, peered deep into his mind, they were ferociously beautiful. His skin was perfectly white, so smooth that the most attractive supermodels would have been deeply envious. But his beauty did nothing to hide the truth of him, the horror, the blackness, the vampire.

Callous was behind the gate he had just scaled. There was no way he got back over! Damon stared at him shocked. Callous laughed again and his face contorted sadistically, he ran straight at Damon. The fence did nothing to impede his sprint, he phased straight through, like a ghost. He was unbelievably fast and Damon had only just moved his hands up to guard himself when Callous crashed into him. The force of the blow as callous’ shoulder hit Damon’s chest was tremendous, Damon flew backwards and fell onto the floor, he felt ribs were broken and was winded so deeply he was sure he would never breathe again. He struggled to his feet.

‘Do you see? Do you see the power I can give you, the power you could have.’

No! Damon wasn’t so weak, he knew the stories, and he knew that he would be giving into sin. No power however great, was worth such cost, such complete damnation of the soul.

‘Humph, very well!’ Callous had once again reached into his thoughts. His voice was filled with an anger that Damon feared more than death itself. He pounced at Damon again, who was ready this time, he sidestepped and swung his elbow with great force directly in Callous’ face. His elbow stopped dead when it made contact with Callous’ jaw, he felt the fangs bite into the flesh of his forearm. He tried to twist out of the bite but Callous’ hand found his throat. The long fingers wrapped around his neck and a crushing pressure began to squeeze the life out of him, he was lifted off the floor. He became limp; oxygen wasn’t reaching his brain, he could barely move. Callous’ fangs withdrew from his arm; he pulled Damon’s neck toward him and bit down. Damon Died.

He drifted, drifted through darkness. There was nothing but the dark, and then a light, small at first but growing. Closer, closer it came. He could see shapes in it. Shape in the light. As it came closer he recognized them as people, one small and one large. They were his wife and son. He was dead, did that mean they were dead, as he got nearer he saw they were covered in blood. Tears ran down their faces, tears of blood.

‘Help us. Kill us. Free us. Please.’ Their beautiful voices were full of sadness and pain, tears touched his eyes.

He could not move or talk; he could just watch, just watch their anguish. He tried to reach out to them with his mind. He tasted blood, metallic and warm. He realized he was dying with thirst, he swallowed. His thirst was slaked, it tasted like paradise, like perfection, like sin. He felt knowledge flow over him; he suddenly became aware that drinking this forbidden fruit would result in something terrible, he would become something terrible. He knew that his wife and child were dead. He could fight the urge he could die. He knew he wasn’t given this choice by Callous but by a greater power, it was given to him by something good. Callous wouldn’t have given him a choice. Take revenge, come back, stop the demon from destroying more lives. OR he could die, be released from life, find peace.

He drank.

Damon’s eyes opened, the world around him was dark. He was on his back. His whole body was in agony, his broken ribs flamed and his neck felt like crunched up paper. He took a deep breath. The cold air stung his throat; the taste of blood was still strong in his mouth. Suddenly the pain in his joints and muscles disappeared. He lay there feeling nothing, seeing the stars become visible above as a cloud dissipated and rain began to fall.

As soon as the first droplet of rain touched his face, a horrific pain shot through him. Body and soul broke. His skin was ablaze with a tremendous invisible fire. His muscled were impaled by tens of thousands of unseen daggers. He writhed on the grass of the park, the torture stretched every second into an eternity of intense suffering. He felt his mind filled with darkness, his heart plunged in blackness deep, his soul tainted. The darkness spread to his body immersed every nerve ending. The pain was gone. He felt his ribs healing, his neck becoming strong again, stronger than ever. His whole body became stronger than ever before. He felt free and strong and powerful, definitely powerful. He could kill, destroy, and feed. He was a vampire.

NO! HE WAS A MAN! He was a human, but the thirst for blood he now felt wasn’t. The power in him wasn’t either, in fact it was completely inhuman. He rose to his feet with similar grace to that which Callous had shown. He felt weightless. Wow he felt great.

‘uhhhh!’ he fell to his knees, it wasn’t a pain in his body this time it was agony of the soul. He became aware that his soul was no long bonded to him as it should be. It was trying to being ripped from his body, leaving the unholy shell it was left in. He fought to keep it and felt how easy it would be to let it go. Once more he was hit by knowledge; this chance to save his soul was not given to other vampires, it was a blessing from the same greater power that had allowed him the choice to die. He used the mental image of pulling a white wisp of smoke back into him and focused with all his will, the wisp seeped back into his flesh. His soul returned, and bonded with him once more.

The memory of his wife and son covered in blood came with his soul. He had to get to them. He looked around he could get in his car but he instinctively knew it would be faster to take advantage of his new vampiric power. He run in the direction of his home and leapt into the night. He relaxed and ran and speed impossible was his. He moved through the park like the wind itself flowing between trees and over lakes.

Fear was in him like nothing he had ever felt. What would he find at home? Damon didn’t want Marie or James to see him like this but that didn’t worry him, as long as they still lived.

He reached his home, the door was closed. He looked at his home with fear for the first time in his life, fear of his own home. It was a white bungalow, small but nice. Something caught Damon’s eye (his eyes were faster at spotting things now, everything clearer). Blood, blood was dripping out from under the door. He had a sudden urge to drink it, he hated himself for it. Then after putting that thought out of his mind with disgust, he connected the blood to his son and wife. He slammed through the door. On the floor lay James his skin pale contrasted to the dark red puddle of blood he lay in. His eyes glazed by death. A tear fell down Damon’s face; it seared the skin where it fell. He looked up from his son’s corpse to Marie. She was on the bed naked, covered in blood, dead. Tears now streamed down his face in floods, his skin was actually burning at their touch; vampires weren’t meant to cry. Even as the skin burnt it began to heal, he would have no marks.

He picked James’ body up and laid him down on the bed. Down next to his dead mother. Marie was so beautiful, even in death. She seemed even more stunning in death, ethereally beautiful. Too beautiful. Something was wrong, even more wrong than just finding your wife dead. Her hand twitched, her eyes opened, they were as cold and beautiful as the eyes of Callous. A new wave of tear fell down his face. He understood their plea now. “Help us. Kill us. Free us. Please.”

Her eyes found him, there was no recognition in those eyes, only hunger. Marie rose, naked, covered in her own and their son’s blood. She walked toward him, as seductive as a thousand sirens. He wanted to kiss her. He would have to kill her. She sensed his intention. She attacked; her speed and strength were inhuman. Damon was faster, much faster. He caught her hands at the wrists she tried to wrench them free. His strength was far greater then hers. He sensed this extra power was not a gift of Callous, but of that greater power he had sensed.

‘Callous.’ She must have plucked the word from his mind. ‘Our master.’ Her voice was beautiful. Callous, how he hated him.

‘No, he is not my master, never.’ Pulled her towards him, wrapped his arms around her back and crushed with a devastating strength he had never before. She scratched at his back drew blood, he tightened his crushing hold.

‘No.’ She struggled to say the words. ‘Don’t, we could be together. Love each other forever, all time eternity. I love you Damon.’ Those words were ten times more seductive than any siren song could ever be. He crushed tighter. She died. He felt her heart stop beating.

‘I love you, always.’ Damon lips touched her ears as he whispered the words, a tear fell into her hair. His lips began to burn. He released her. She fell to the floor skin igniting. By the time she had hit the floor there was nothing more than ash to mark her existence in the world.  He fell back to the bed and picked his son up. His heart broke once more as he crushed the life out of James. And sat by as he burned.

Damon left the house. It was no longer his home. As he stepped out of the house he was again struck by knowledge. He suddenly learned of where to find the vampires, to find Callous. There was a castle; the vampires shared it with Humans who they would one day allow the gift of damnation. They called it the Blood Ring.

Damon ran. He just went with the wind again. He knew it would take him to the castle, to the Blood ring.

He ended up facing a huge castle type estate. He had traveled miles and the sun was coming out. He didn’t know how much of the legends were true. When the sun touched his skin he felt no pain, he ran towards the castle and leapt towards a second story window. He had jumped to about a height of twenty-five feet, it was as high as he would be able to go, he could tell. He smashed through the window. He landed silently on his hands and knees. He looked up; a vampire and a human must have been having sex, they were entangled and naked. He was disgusted. The woman was human, the man, vampire Damon could tell, he didn’t know how. The vampire rose from the bed pushing the woman off him viciously. He looked angry. As he moved towards Damon, Damon darted forward grabbed his wrist and wrenched it violently. The vampire was flipped over from the wrist twist; he landed hard on his back. Before the vampire could rise again Damon grabbed his head and broke his neck with a brutal snap. The vampire began to burn and was soon but ashes. The woman ran away screaming.

A minute later two more male vampires ran in. Damon launched himself at them he grabbed the first by the shoulders. The look of fear on the vampires face when he felt the strength in Damon’s hands, gave Damon a great, masochistic surge of satisfaction. He launched him out the smashed window into the deadly sunshine. He punched with all his furious might into the second vampire and crushed through his face. Blood exploded from his head. He burned just like the first.

He heard the cold laugh of Callous, and saw him appear in the doorway. Before Damon moved Callous was on him, his darkness engulfed. Damon fell unconscious. 

The laugh again, the evil laugh. Damon struggled to open his eyes, not yet too weak.

‘You have failed. You are weak.’ He spoke joyously, but still there was a shade of regret in his voice, a definite loss. ‘I admit. I wanted you. Wanted your power, I sensed your strength and lusted for it. You have failed. You are not one of us. You are not pure. You are not vampire. I gave you the blood, but what you took was tainted, stained, and infected. It was infected with light; don’t take this to mean you are an instrument of God. No my friend, you are still dark, still part vampire. Just dirty a speck of light in otherwise pure darkness.’ Callous was passionate, he truly meant every word.

Damon opened his eyes. He was not one of those putrid creatures, not completely. Thank God. He looked around he was strapped to something that was strangely similar to an electric chair. He was in a large hall, it was dark. The room was lit by sparsely spread candles. The candles provided enough light to illuminate tapestries that covered the walls. They showed images of death and horrors beyond imagining, Damon recognized a portrayal of Vlad the impaler aka Dracula. The hall was full with at least a hundred vampires, no humans were here, they were not allowed in this sacred place. They stood admiring their master. Damon tried to move his arms from the chair, the straps were too strong.

‘I am debating whether to kill you now or leave you down here forever.’ Anger was discernible in his deep voice. His handsome face showed no emotion though.

‘I’ve decided to kill you.’ Damon spat.

Callous laughed, the vampires laughed with him and the hall was full of cold laughter, a laughter that cut the ears like broken glass.

That sound awoke in him an instinctive, terrible anger

Damon ripped the chair apart and stood up, the arms of the chair had stayed strapped to his arms forming two stakes that protruded from the inside of his forearms. He swung at Callous. The stakes hit nothing. Callous was gone. The vampires shock wore off they all ran towards him. He jumped into the air and landed in the middle of them. He spun and hooked his leg in a huge arc, he spun a full 360 degrees and his heel connected with all the vampires surrounding him, they fell to the floor. He had snapped some of their necks with the kick and those vampires began to burn. With sight blurring speed he ran round plunging his arm-stakes into the hearts of the fallen vampires.  More vampires came at him and Damon ended them one after the other. Stabbing, breaking, crushing, destroying.  The last two jumped at him and he caught them on his stakes, impaled, they burnt to ash in the air. The arms of the chair were now covered in the blood of the undead, and blistered by their fiery deaths. The hall was alight with flames of his dead enemies, candles had fallen and the horrific tapestries that decorated the walls were aflame.

There was the sound of clapping.

‘Impressive.’ The slow rhythmic clapping continued. ‘You are strong; it is too bad you are impure, so no matter how enticing your strength is you must die.’

He glided from the shadows, Damon swung at him. He missed. Callous’ nails sliced Damon’s face leaving five cuts running along his face.

‘Your wife cried for your son’s life. Your son wept, wept and called for his father. And when you finally came to him, what did you do then. In the end they begged for death. I gave it gladly, slowly, painfully, but gladly. But one death isn’t enough. Oh no, you proved that, you doubled their suffering murdered your own family.’ The words brought the fiery tears to Damon’s face, incensed Damon’s rage.

‘You killed my family!’ Damon roared. ‘You turned them into monsters! I was too late to save them, but not too late to free them!’

‘Believe what you will, a slow death is the only solace I will grant! ’

Callous leapt from the darkness again, Damon spun round with speed he had so far not even been close to reaching. He swung the stake, it made a deafening contact as it smashed Callous’ skull. Callous crumpled on the floor. The wood of the stake had broken over Callous’ head. He shrugged it off his arm. It was his left arm; his right remained armed with the spike.

Tears of rage seared Damon’s cheeks. Vampires weren’t meant to cry. He stood above his second and less merciful creator. The fires of hell and the wrath of Lucifer burned in him. The mock creator lay on the floor. Callous would burn this night.

Callous rolled onto his back, blood streaked his perfect face. ‘Wha- that was fast. Too fast. How- what are you?’
‘I am the light, I am the good, I am a warrior!’
Damon lifted Callous by the throat with his free arm. Callous dangled his face had darkened from beauty to the demonic beast inside. The skin was pulled back, dark shadows were under his eyes, and his whole countenance was evil. Damon powered his right arm, stake and all, into the vampire’s chest.

‘So… this is how it ends.’ He laughed one last time; this laugh was weak and choked.

Damon dropped the monster to the floor. Callous began to burn with a fire so dark it was almost black. He laughed madly as he burned, laughed and burned. Damon left that place of death.

Damon stepped into the daylight; it felt nice to be in light. He felt almost human. He sat on the grass staring at the sun’s beauty. He raised the stake and held it above his heart. He tensed, ready to pull the stake into his heart. He was suddenly hit by the knowledge again. He saw another vampire lair, another master vampire like Callous, another path to take. He once again had a choice. He dropped the stake. He went to his destiny.