(Downtown Svetyland. The werewolves territory. . .)
•T–––M–––V–––P–––L•
Standing at the front of a huge door was Damien as he glanced at his back, sighing in relief when he couldn't see the girl that claimed to have met him before, when he knew she was talking about his brother.
Placing a knock on the huge door there was a response from inside the house, and instantaneously, the door fell open.
A bulky man who looked like he was in his late forties stood by the door with a poker face as he stared at Damien. "And what is a zombie doing at my doorstep?" He asked, now adorning a smug smile.
"I'm here to seek for someone," Damien said, ignoring the man's statement about him being a 'zombie.' "Is there anyone who bears the name Gabriel?"
"Why do you want to know?" The bulky man asked instantly with a scary frown on his face.
Damien rolled his eyes. He was already getting tired of the man's questioning and unappealing visage so he decided to do what the Master had warned him against — which was to compel the answer out of him, most especially since he was acting all stuck up. However, before he did, he decided to ask the man the same question again. "I ask again, is there anyone here who goes by the name Gabriel?"
"And why should I give you a response, zombie?" Damien groaned, he wasn't actually thinking the man was going to give him a response. "I want you to leave. Now. I wouldn't want maggots at my doorstep—"
"Is there anyone here bearing the name Gabriel?" The bulky man was compelled by Damien, who was tired of him beating around the bush.
The man stood straight, the smug smile he had on wiped off his face as he stared directly at Damien. "Yes, sir," he replied.
Damien smirked on seeing how submissive the man had turned all because of the compelling. "Nice, invite me in as your Master."
"Alright master," the bulky man moved away from the door, providing space for Damien to enter. "Please Master, grace my abode."
Damien adjusted his suit blazer and entered the house. The house was large and colorful; Damien wasn't a big fan of colors. After all, his favorite color was black. "Call Gabriel for me."
The bulky man nodded and left through the stairs while Damien waited patiently by the doorway. Within some minutes the older man came down with a younger version of himself. The resemblance was uncanny and one could easily tell that they were father and son.
"And how may I help you?" Gabriel asked with a really condescending tone.
Damien smirked as he heard what Gabriel had to say. He was the same as his father — both had a rude tongue. He also remembered Elizabeth had believed he defiled her. Damien didn't waste any time before he compelled Gabriel into answering his questions. "Speak, what happened at your party? What happened to Elizabeth?"
"I really know nothing; but that night, I was with Freya," The softness in his tone seemed different from the Gabriel that had spoken just seconds ago. "We drank wine and talked about macarons. She later excused herself to use the toilet. . .and that was the last time I saw her."
Freya? Oh, he remembered her from his little 'conversation' with Elizabeth. Best friend, she'd called her. However, what could have really happened?
"Give me her address and what she looks like," Damien requested.
Gabriel wasted no time in telling Damien the answers to his question, and once he was done Damien cleared his throat as he stared at both father and son. He decided to punish them, specifically Gabriel, for whatever he could have done to Elizabeth that made the girl which oddly resembled his uncles past lover scared. "One thousand push-ups. Ten thousand bicycle. Hundred thousand backflips. You're to do all those things on your front porch, naked. Only after fulfilling all that would my grip on your minds loosening."
"Yes, Master," The father and son duo replied with a how.
Damien smirked in satisfaction as he turned on his heels and stepped out of the building. His grip on the men's minds would only loosen once they've done all what he'd ordered, and even after that they weren't going to remember anything that had happened within the few minutes he was at their house.
YEAR 1850. . .
•T–––M–––V–––P–––L•
Camille's body was sprawled on a bed in a quiet dark room — the only source of light was the reflection of the light from the chandelier in the foyer next to the room, and Elbert moved closer to the bed. He gazed at Camille as she slowly opened her eyes and crouched next to the bed she laid, caressing her now pale cheek. Her honey brown eyes were dull with confusion and hunger. It was what usually happened to fresh vampires.
"Look at me, my love. Everything is alright," Elbert softly said, sitting down on the bed as he carried her fragile body to his lap. She looked weak and Elbert knew exactly what she needed — blood. "How do you feel?"
"I—I am thirsty. No, hungry. Elbert?" Her voice wobbled as she spoke. Her mouth was open and two canines were beginning to come out from her gums as she slowly raised her hand to her temple. She was burning up. "Everything burns. I feel hungry. Why do you look so red?"
"It is okay, my love," Baring his neck, he said to her, "Drink."
Her eyes widened in realization. "Did you. . .?"
"Yes."
She licked her upper lip, unsure. "Elbert, I-i can't do this. I can't bite you."
"You cannot remain in this state for long, Camille. Drink from me otherwise you die."
In a flash, she shot up from his hands, as if possessed by a spirit. She brought her lips to his neck, grazing her teeth on his skin.
Yes, Elbert thought, feeling the sharp fang gently pierce his skin. The argument with his parents was still fresh in his mind. They hated Camille, even after he'd turned them into one of theirs. Still, he wasn't going to ever let her go even at the cost of his daylight ring.
Holding her in his arms, he patted her hair and softly whispered into her ear, "Slowly, Camille. I am all yours."
Her one good hand roughly grabbed his hair as she bit down harder and ran her teeth on his neck, sucking blood from him. She continued sucking blood from him for more than three minutes.
"Camille?" Elbert called onto her when she did not stop. He drew her away from him quickly, and looked into her glowing red eyes.
Did newly turned vampires have glowing red eyes? He knew the answer to that and it was no.
Elbert watched her lick her lips once more, eyeing his bleeding neck.
A few minutes passed and her rapid heaving chest finally slowed. Her body began to cool. Her eyes dimmed in its ghoulish red glow and turned back into honey brown. "Oh!" She exclaimed, staring into his eyes while Elbert cleaned the traces of blood around her lips with his tongue, and when he'd done that finish, she added, "I'm sorry if it hurt you."
Elbert touched his neck and realized it had healed up. He smiled and cupped her cheek into his hands. "It is alright, Camille. You know I heal. Always."
"Still, I am sorry about that."
"It is okay. Everything that is mine is yours," His eyes fell to her beautiful eyes in the dark. "Camille," he whispered.
There was a brief silence between them and Elbert knew that she'd noticed her bad left arm. It was obvious, with the way she kept staring at it. She seemed sad, wanting to speak but rather chose to remain quiet. And as if suddenly remembering something, her eyes flashed with fear. "Elbert, your father—"
"It is okay. We will be together now."
"Will your father be okay with it?" Her eyes darkened with concern.
"Yes." The lie fell from his lips.
Camille sighed in relief and grinned, her pale face lighting up with joy. "I love you."
Elbert cupped her face in his hands with a smile on his lips. He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. Bursting with affection, he drew her closer and nibbled on her lips.
He felt her small nimble hand draw on his back as she sighed in his mouth.
Nothing, he thought, will take Camille away from him. Not even death.