Page 46 of Fragile Wicked Things

Twenty-Two

B lanche was made into a creature of the night by my hands, conditioned never to leave my side, a companion for life.

Still, bliss was not to be mine. My nightingale ceased to sing.

My angel struggled with the darkness, with the hunger, and each night, she lay in our bed chamber doubled over and shrieking in excruciating pain.

She had become ghastly to me and no longer the face of an angel, but a savage.

Blanche would roll back her blue eyes exposing the white of her eyes, her lips swelled and darkened. Oh, great foul. What had I done?

The servants kept away, leaving food and drink outside our door while I cared for Blanche.

It was not difficult to have them believe a scourge was to blame for Blanche's suffering and they stayed away out of fear of catching the affliction.

Nights, I scoured the grounds in search of forest animals and offered them to Blanche in an attempt to weaken her passion for human blood with their blood, but she would have none of them.

The hunger was too strong and I feared that should I offer her one of the servants, she would suck their life dry.

I could not comfort her. Finally, she rested in the day when exhaustion overcame her frail frame.

During the night, she grew worse, and the quiet in the castle gave way to her screams, the horrendous sounds frightening the servants.

To calm her, I held her in my arms and whispered love poems into her ear, but she pushed me away—me who was her Creator, her Salvation.

She looked at me with such hatred and sorrow.

"I want to die!" she said.

How could I deny her when I myself had begged for deliverance? What I had created, I could destroy, but I rebuffed the thought believing she would overcome this darkness, one I believed could not be as strong as that which lives inside of me since she had never taken a life.

One night, I traveled again in search of more animals to offer my angel.

I knew the outcome would be the same and she would not feed, but I was obligated to try.

Hunting had become easy by then and I would wait for the moment to pounce and if they fled, I could travel as swiftly as any animal.

The forest was my kingdom, and I had no fear or reason to hide my true self.

Alone, I would run through the woods as fast as I could, leap up high to touch branches and feed whenever the urge overcame me.

That night, I spent a long time outside the castle and traveled far.

Later when I returned, I did not find Blanche in our bed chamber where she had been bedridden for weeks.

I threw open the window, peering to the grounds below, but nothing had been disturbed.

Quickly, I ran down to the lower level, searching from room to room, shouting Blanche's name and slamming doors.

I was about to wake the servants when I saw a figure sitting at the table by the unlit hearth.

I slid into the darkened room and my eyes pierced through the blackness towards Blanche.

Color was again on her cheeks and lips, her hair had regained its brilliance and there was an energy to her I had not seen since before I had turned her.

My angel had come back to me. I ran to her, threw myself down at her feet, kissed her hands which I held in my own.

"My darling, you are well. The sickness has passed."

"Strength has returned to me, my Lord. I see now the life which you have given me," she said.

"Do you hate me?"

"How can I hate you for lifting me out of the hellish despair I was in? I am free now."

She captivated me with her resonating light, a glow that cascaded from her smiling face.

I was so enraptured that, at first, I did not notice Miriam's wash lay twisted and soggy in a basket near the hearth.

Nor did I realize, given the fuss I had made searching for Blanche, that not one servant stirred. The castle was still.

"My Lord, there is a strange look to you."

"Where are the servants? Miriam?" I asked in a whisper.

"They are around here somewhere. I saw them earlier." Her eyes flitted away from me.

"Shall I get Miriam to fill a tub for you?" I said.

"She already has."

"Shall I get Miriam to bring you some tea?"

"She already has."

"Shall I get Miriam to do as you wish?"

"She already has."

My hands tightened around hers. I continued to stare, at first curious, but then anxiety took over me as she brought herself to look at me again. I contemplated her newfound resurrection, the quietness of the castle, and the chores left incomplete. I recoiled from her.

"What have you done?" I said.

"What do you think me capable of, my Lord? You created me to be a monster, fed me scraps of squirrels and then refused to have me live in a manner in agreement with my nature."

"Where are they?" I roared the question to her.

Her face twisted in anguish and she brought her hands up to her ears. "You promised you'd never be angry with me. I didn't mean to kill the little birdie, just to toy with it a bit, but it could not withstand..."

"...the torture. The bird was no accident. Miriam? The men?"

"It was no accident by any means." Blanche put her hands down, and a wicked smile sprang to her face. In a child's voice, she whispered, "Go see."

Within seconds, I took flight up the stairs, dashing up two, three steps at a time.

Behind me, Blanche's laughter followed. When I reached the top, I threw each door open, calling out the servants' names, but no one answered.

Finally, I came to the chamber at the end of the hall, put my palm on the door and pushed it open.

I found them all—bloodied, lifeless, tortured.

Some had been piled atop of one another in a corner; the youngest of the men who had once been my father's guide, had been torn limb by limb and my Miriam—decapitated, her head placed on a pillow on the bed.

Blanche was not my salvation.

Somewhere among all that death in the room, I heard someone stir.

It was the newest servant, a girl of no more than seventeen, who clung to life and lay near the foot of the bed.

I hurried to her side, down on my knees and tore a strip from the bedsheet in an attempt to save her if it wasn’t too late.

She looked at me; her body gasped for air, and her eyes pleaded with me for help, but then she looked past me and her eyes widened.

"I left her for you." I spun around to find Blanche behind me. "How long has it been?" she continued.

Blanche knelt behind me, wrapped me in her arms, moved her hands down my chest, licked my ear, played with the front of my pants and there I sat, helpless, desperate to feel her touch. Then she reached out towards the girl, wiped her finger along the servant's bloody neck and held it under my nose.

"Can you smell her? She's pure. It's intoxicating," she said.

Blanche trapped me in her embrace. I could have freed myself at any time, yet I did not wish to.

The girl's smell was sweeter than Miriam's, and I had always stopped with Miriam and the others, I had always retreated before the darkness took over.

It was that last moment, that final gasp for air, that remaining drop of blood that gave us the greatest power, the final climax.

Grabbing Blanche's hand in mine, I thrust her finger into my mouth and sucked the blood clean. I wanted more. I knelt towards the girl, bent over her and stared at those pleading eyes. Reaching up, I covered her eyes with my hand and moved towards the wound on her neck.

"Yes, my Lord, take her," Blanche shouted in ecstasy, crawling atop of me and my little servant girl, running her hands underneath my shirt to claw at my backside.

My tongue licked the girl's wound in gentle, circular motions. She whimpered. My teeth ripped into her, her unadulterated blood flowed into me, the girl writhed and moaned, her fear aroused all my senses until I was satiated and she lay there dead.

* * *

When nightfall next came, I stood with Blanche by the cliffside and we tossed the servants' bodies into the North Sea below.

The foamy waves crashed against the rocks, the bodies disappeared into the mist and all evidence of what we had done was swept away.

I attempted at some nonsensical sermon for their souls, but Blanche only laughed at me and turned away, heading towards the village.

The North Wind came from behind me with a fierce gale capable of throwing me over the cliff to a watery grave.

I should not have fought it. Certainly, Mankind would benefit.

For a moment I considered floating with the wind, a peaceful journey over the cliff and with any luck, would land on a jagged rock, penetrating my heart and crushing my bones.

But I'm a weak creature and chose myself over Mankind. I followed Blanche into the village.

The servants had satisfied us for some time, but eventually, we searched for others.

Each kill met with the same watery grave and each time no words were spoken between Blanche and myself during the rituals by the cliffside.

It had become a habit like brushing teeth or combing one's hair, an action given so little thought to.

As time went on, I grew worried that the village would notice the missing and, during one of the burials, I broke the silence to share my concern with Blanche.

"Nonsense."

Dismissing me had become effortless on her part, and I grew increasingly enraged by the cavalier act. "You know not what it means to be run out by the villagers, their dogs biting at your feet."

"They cannot harm us."

"We are not indestructible!"

To illustrate my point, I picked up a branch that lay on the ground near me, its limb cracked by lightning and held it to her chest, driving the point into her flesh. I had the strength to crack through her sternum and rib cage.