Balthezar stared at the wall across
from the one he was chained to, wishing the sun would set, already.
The thirst during the day was far worse than at night, he discovered.
Though none of the sunlight that came in from the giant windows above
him touched his skin, it was reflected harshly by the slathered on
white paint, making it harmless, but still very painful. Cuffs made
of a mix of steel and iron were clasped very tightly around his
wrists, sapping his strength and causing him constant pain,
suspending his arms above his head with nowhere to rest his body,
he'd dangle in agony while he tried to let his legs rest.
The thirst was only part of his pain.
He hungered intensely, his stomach at war with itself constantly,
growling and moaning. They'd denied him blood thus far, but he
wouldn't mind other food, either. He tried not to imagine all the
good food he'd eaten in his long life, it only made his pangs worse.
Being a prisoner of The Community was not the way he'd envisioned his
days ending, that was for sure. He knew, now, why Michael had done
what he did, and as much as the ancient vampire wanted to be angry,
he couldn't. It had taken weeks of torture, starvation, beatings, and
ceaseless questions to open Balthezar's eyes. He swore he'd never
close them again.
Pain was nothing to the vampire, but
the thirst was all but unbearable, cracked lips split open every time
he moved. His mouth was coated with sand, his throat felt like
paper, even the memory of a drink was something he could barely
recall. The iron restraints sapped his abilities, the reflected sun
weakened his already waning will, and the news he'd learned made the
dark nights an enemy, instead of his home. Balthezar swore vengeance
upon the ones who did this, silently, over and over. It became a
mantra of hatred and pain, etched in his mind forever. He counted, in
his mind, the ones he needed to kill, then counted the ones that he'd
kill for sheer pleasure.
Quietly the sun set, the white paint
reflecting orange for just a few moments, then darkness fell.
Balthezar sighed with relief as his naked body no longer felt like it
was on fire. He didn't care if the cuffs bit to the bone, again, he
sagged against the solid concrete wall, letting the coolness of it
drop his body temperature. It was a painful, but easy, decision to
stay there, hanging like that, for a while. Suffering was but a
distant memory for a while, and sleep came. Dreams were a luxury,
comfort a tax, peace of mind a wish, the vampire in chains could
afford none of them, even tears were too much to ask for.
Blood, or at least the scent of it,
brought him awake, slowly he came around, his nose working to find
the source. 'Another cruel trick, another form of torture.' he
thought to himself. But the smell was strong, and fresh. Curiosity
and hunger finished waking up Balthezar, his senses on high alert, on
his aching feet, he tried desperately to find the source, but the
iron wouldn't let him. Another splash came, this time so strong he
nearly lost control, the blood seemed to be right outside his cell
door. He fought back every instinct inside himself, no matter how
loudly it screamed, and waited.
The world seemed so still, but his
thoughts raged, 'Who was outside? Why did they spill fresh blood? Was
it his executioners? Did they finally come to collect? Were they
baiting him? Were they wishing for him to give into the beast
within?' If they were, they were near their goal, his control was
slipping quickly. His vision was blurring, the edges of the world
were beginning to tint red, even the iron restraints were just a buzz
at the edge of his perception. Tired, ached muscles began to awaken,
straightening and straining themselves against the crippling cuffs.
Somewhere, in the misty fog of his mind, Balthezar bade farewell to
his sanity.
The entire room shook so hard dust was
knocked out of the creases in the stone walls, the vampire lost his
footing, the chains bit deep and pulled him away from the edge.
Balthezar stared at the thick iron door in confusion as another shock
rocked the small cell, causing more debris, and even a heavy stone to
crack with an earsplitting report. It seemed like gravity was
distorting the door, twisting and pulling it here and there,
misshaping it. The metal screamed and collapsed upon itself, the door
vanishing in a plume of dust and concrete. The vampire prisoner
stared with wide eyes, not knowing what would come through the hole.
A man stepped through, ducking his head
beneath the top, thick with muscle, a beard, piercing eyes, and hair
down his back. In one hand he carried the keys to the restraints, in
the other was a human guard, barely conscious. This was no man, but a
Lycan, Balthezar noticed. With a flick the man was tossed into the
center of the cell, then the wolf focused his attention on the
captive, “Good evening. I am Raecien, Guardian of the Word, and my
master asks you to join him for dinner.” He gestured at the moaning
heap in uniform on the floor, “Consider this an appetizer.” With
a single step the distance from door to restraints was closed.
As gentle as a man his size could be,
Raecien undid the cuffs, then stepped back as Balthezar fell to the
ground in a slump. Abilities began to come back, like opening
shutters for the sun to come in, slow at first, but then all at once.
The vampire stared at the giant man, his emerald green eyes fixated,
but the rumbling in his stomach and the burning in his veins made the
human too appetizing to ignore any longer. It was the most savage
bite Balthezar had delivered in a very long time, but it made
draining the man quick. Reinvigorated he stood and faced the Lycan,
wiping his chin of the excess, “And who is your master, Raecien,
Guardian of the Word?”
A low growl came from the wolf and he
hesitated, but answered as if someone were twisting his arm to do it,
“Master Michael of the House of Tor.” Belthazar's eyes went wide
as saucers with the realization of what this meant. “And how do you
propose to get us out of here, Master Raecien?” All the wolf
answered was “Hold still.” as he wrapped his giant arm around the
vampire's waist and leaped through a giant window above where the
cuffs were chained to the wall. The back up arrived at the cell just
as the remnants of the glass window danced across the concrete floor
and their drained comrade, their arrival too late.
As they ran through the woods, in the
rain, under the bright moon, Belthazar smiled at the feeling of dirt
under his feet, leaves and all of nature against his naked body. He
vowed he'd never complain about the rain again.
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