The sounds of dripping liquid woke him, what he could see was blurry. The nasty smell of the mattress he was laying on terrified him, Where was he? Wasn't he walking home from the docks? The warmth of something sticky and wet rolled down his neck, his energy gone. He wanted to scream but couldn't gather the energy to even speak. His arms wouldn't move without great effort as he tried to pick himself off the crusty and decaying bed.
No avail, his arms buckled from the stress of his weight and not having the strength anymore to support it. The pain of landing on an exposed spring made him wince slightly, the pain of the puncture causing his body to try to react but being able to due to his paralytic condition. The sensation soon faded as his mind reeled at the numbing of his senses, so this was death? he mused to himself.
Darkness began to set in as his vision blurred, was this how he died? Somewhere unfamiliar and alone? The Fire in his heart to be diminished at such a young age? No, he was only thirty-five years of age and had so much more to accomplish in his lifetime, he hadn't even married his beloved. Let alone had started a family, he wasn't ready to just give it up right then and there.
He wanted to yell out for help, but his throat parched only the rasp of a gurgle came out, soon the words 'help' escaped his mouth, just barely a whisper. The sound fell on deaf ears as he realized he was truly alone, his heart quivered in its final moments, and he waited for his life to flash before his eyes as so many claimed would happen, nothing but darkness.
The sound he heard next removed all hope from within him of any sort of rescue, a burst of hideous laughter from the shadows, feminine in nature. He couldn't see her but felt the wind on his face as she opened the blinds of the window. The light shafted illuminated his body in the pale luminous light through the bottle glass windows that were so common in port towns.
The night air smelt of salt and the coal burning in the fireplaces of the nearby neighbors and the businesses in the streets below. The rush of the cacophony of noise that the night brought to his ears was almost hypnotic, but his mind brought him back to the present situation before he could be lulled off to death's final embrace.
Her silhouette outlined by the moon was beautiful as far as his clouded eyes could see. He was without his glasses, and he needed those for any form of vision. The Salty sea him pine and desire to back on the waves working the ships that had helped him learn the value of hard work and goals, anywhere but here, dying in misery and self-doubt.
"Do you want to live? I could just leave you here and let you die, the Coppers would find you eventually, but not before your handsome face would rot away." Her demeanor was cold and her voice sounded so far away from him, he was fading away. The last thing he remembered was his croak of a reply, 'Yes.'
That moment he felt a burning as his life slipped away and the taste of Iron flooded his senses, overpowering his mind as the liquid was forced down his throat, his thoughts telling him he needed it to live. He drank greedily, and soon his insides burned as if he was poisoned.
His last sight was of the woman, her hair falling over her shoulder as she watched him with a smile, pity in her eyes. She placed a hand on his chest, the heat from her touch sending shivers down his spine, she stared into his eyes as they closed, and he knew he was dead.
She left the room, leaving the door open behind her, and he lay motionless on the bed, unable to move or breathe. Soon the scent of burnt flesh filled his nose, and the sound of footsteps approached from the hall. A pair of feet stepped inside, followed by the figure of another female wearing a long black dress and high heels. It was her.
"You are finally awake?" Her voice was sweet and soft like honey, but it caused goose bumps to rise on his skin.
With great difficulty, he managed to roll onto his side and look around. As the faintest hint of moonlight filtered through the dirty curtains, he saw that it was early morning; maybe two o'clock in the afternoon.
It took some time for his head to clear enough so he could focus properly, "where am I? What happened to me? How did I get here?" With each question answered, he became angrier until his anger was focused on one person—the witch who put him under her thumb.
Without warning, his arm moved towards the floorboards underneath the bed, searching desperately for anything sharp he might use to defend himself should anyone enter the bedroom. Nothing, damn! Now is my chance to escape, but will I have the courage? He thought.
A knock on the door interrupted his train of thought, he froze upon hearing the sound, fearing that someone else entered the room. But no, it was the same woman, she spoke again, "I don't think you need to worry about the Coppers now."
He looked at her with disbelief, still trying to process the events that transpired since the previous evening.
After a few seconds of silence, he asked, "How do you know who I am?"
Asking questions seemed to make her happy, and she replied, "Oh, we met once before. You didn't remember because of your drunken stupor, but when you first arrived here at the inn, I gave directions to you. Do you remember? We talked briefly, though I never got a name from either of us."
Tears formed in his eye sockets as memories flooded his brain, but none were pleasant ones, especially after meeting her. He shook his head slowly, hoping that whatever he said would bring him relief instead of further torment.
But he was wrong, she smiled and continued, "Your friend told me where to find you, and the rest is history. I must say, I really enjoyed our conversation, and yes, I was curious why such a nice man would choose to stay in a place like this…but I suppose curiosity killed the cat, huh? Oh well, I guess I shouldn't ask too many questions, lest I end up like you," she paused and chuckled lightly, making him feel nauseated.
Now was the perfect opportunity to attack, but he held back, afraid of losing control of his body and allowing her to take advantage of his weakened state. So, he chose to wait and watch her, letting his instincts guide his actions.
She turned and walked toward the kitchen area, taking a seat at the table across from him as she sipped her coffee, enjoying herself immensely watching his every movement.
When she finished drinking, she stood up and went to the sink to wash out her cup while humming softly to herself. Returning to the chair opposite his own, she leaned forward resting her elbows on the tabletop as she rested her chin in her hands and sighed deeply.
He remained silent and unmoving, waiting for the right moment, which he hoped would come soon. If he could capture her attention and keep it, perhaps he could slip away unnoticed.
"Oh my dear, you wouldn't want to escape right now. You would be eaten up by the wolves in the forests nearby." she purred out in an absolutely menacing voice, calm and dominant, the Redheaded woman sipped on her glass of what must have been wine, as it made her lips seem redder than they were before.
"...and besides, you won't go far anyway. There are no roads leading to the city limits, so you'd probably wander aimlessly for days and starve to death along the way unless you found some kind soul who offered to feed you. Or better yet, turn yourself into their meal to save them trouble!"
This was it, he knew that tone of voice and inflection perfectly. This bitch was the vampire who sucked his life force dry! She laughed loudly as if she had just seen the funniest joke ever.
Blood rushed to his head as rage overtook him, he lunged at her legs knocking the stool backward and crashing against the wall. The impact knocked him unconscious, but not before he broke free of his paralysis and she threw him to the ground.
Lying on top of him, she pinned him to the floor using both forearms pressed firmly against his shoulders and her knees digging painfully into his sides as her foot dangled above his groin. He struggled beneath her but to little effect as her full weight bore down on him. He cried out in agony and fear, but all he received for his efforts were chuckles and snickers from the otherworldly beauty towering over him.
Finally, the pressure eased off somewhat, freeing his arms so he could push himself up and attempt to break away, but her grip tightened on his wrists as she rose higher off the ground.
His movements ceased altogether as he felt lifted off the filthy carpet, his limbs stretched tautly as she carried him through the house and out to the balcony overlooking the ocean. Once outside, she laid him down gently on the wooden deck and sat beside him looking out over the dark waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Moonlight reflected brightly on the surface of the water, creating dancing reflections of the clouds in the sky overhead.
Once again, the smell of iron reached his nostrils, causing him to gag slightly as vomit threatened to pour forth from his mouth, but he fought valiantly to hold back the bile. His eyes watered profusely as tears rolled down his cheeks, mixing with the salty seawater. Blood dripped from his lip onto his white shirt as he bit down hard on his tongue to stop the flow.
There was something different about the way she tasted tonight compared to all the others, it was like the blood had gone bad somehow. It wasn't foul but more metallic tasting, almost rancid, and there were traces of copper mixed in with the flavor. Like the blood of a corpse. He tried to spit it out but failed miserably as his body refused to cooperate.
Despite the pain and discomfort that consumed him, he stayed conscious throughout the entire ordeal and listened closely to the words that escaped her lips. When she finished speaking, he wanted nothing more than to scream and yell for help but knew that doing so would only cause him to lose consciousness quickly and allow her to continue torturing him.
Instead, he simply waited patiently for the inevitable end as he lost track of how much time passed before she spoke again, interrupting his thoughts.