When Night Comes

13. 𝓒𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝓟𝓾𝓷𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽

Tw: gore

A soft knock echoed through the room, yet it was met with a disheartening silence. Undeterred, he entered, his presence a commanding force in the quiet space. "You cannot confine yourself in your room all night," the vampire declared with stern authority, a hint of frustration lingering in his tone.

She responded only by rolling in her bed, seeking refuge under the covers. He tried to ignore how this reaction crushed a small part within him.

"Tell me," he pressed on, "what did you expect to get out of this? Did you wish to die in the cold?"

His mind revisited the events of three nights ago. She had almost died. That was the cold harsh truth. It was sickening, horrifying even. It had terrified him in a way he hadn't expected. Scenarios of what could have happened made dread gawk at his inside. The fact was that he had been lucky to find her, Dorian could have tried searching for her in the opposite direction. She would have been attacked and there would have been no one to protect her from that vermin. After bringing her back, he had remained by her side all day as she slept, the events of the night having left her completely drained of any energy. He had listened as she let out soft expirations, as her mortal heart beated and watched as her chest slowly rose and fell.

So weak...

Her existence was so ephemeral.

That night, as these thoughts had crossed his mind, Dorian had inched closer to her neck. He could fix this. He could make her better and everlasting; eternal. His daughter – his sweet doll – could forever remain safe and unaltered by time. But he didn't. He couldn't turn her at this instant, no matter how much he wished to. It was forbidden to do so to a child her age. He had to wait.

Tonight, as he stepped into her room, he wanted to tell her that, had he not been there to save her, she might have met an untimely demise. That this was the reason why she hadn't been allowed to go out. Yet, the words remained trapped in his mouth, sealed between his lips.

Resigned to the persistent silence, he seated himself on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixed on her form cocooned beneath the covers. "It didn't hurt you. It is gone now," he spoke with a gentler cadence, seeking to comfort.

Dorian liked when the child was calm and well behaved, but this depressing silence was not what he had wished for. Her response was an unyielding silence, prompting him to rise with a sense of resignation.

"What," she started with a scratchy voice, breaking the silence, "was that ?"

He halted, turning back to her with a glimmer of hope at the sound of her voice. "What do you mean, starshine?" he inquired, his tone inviting conversation and relieved that she was willing to engage.

"The monster," she whispered, a tremor of fear evident in her voice.

He sighed, grappling with the decision of whether to disclose the truth. Eventually, he settled back down, choosing to take advantage of her sudden willingness to speak. Refusing to answer would only make her retreat into her shell once again.

"To complete the process of turning a person into a vampire, that person must drink the blood of the vampire that bit them. A Sanguini, the thing you saw, is what results if that last step isn't taken. Slowly, these creatures turn into ravenous beasts, going mad with bloodlust. They aren't vampires, but rather something far more disgraceful and pathetic. The shame of our world."

Silence persisted as she absorbed this revelation. The vampire lifted the covers, unveiling her tear-streaked face. His fingers traced the contours of her cheek as he admitted, "I feared for your safety," his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability, emotions surfacing against his intentions.

She turned her back to him. "I want my mum," she mumbled.

His hands clenched involuntarily, resentment tinged with regret at how even in death, the woman retained significance for the girl. "I am here," he declared, the unspoken words 'And she isn't' hanging in the air.

Her response was silence. "You have me," he asserted more firmly, his fingers gently threading through her hair. "And you need me," he added, a subtle plea beneath his words. She needed him. Just as much as he needed her.

⊱ ────── {⋆☾⋆} ────── ⊰

The atmosphere hung heavy with a somber hush, disrupted occasionally by the clatter of utensils against porcelain as she quietly partook in her meal. Her eyes would intermittently dart toward the vampire sharing the table, yet they swiftly retreated back to the contents of her plate. It marked their first shared dinner since the harrowing incident a week ago. As she cautiously chewed her food, the unspoken tension in the air lingered. Did the vampire across from her anticipate a gesture of thanks? Did he expect acknowledgement for his actions, or was he simply indifferent to her feelings? Gratitude, however, was a complex sentiment to navigate when mixed with the knowledge that he was also the perpetrator of her parents' death.

Leaving during the cold winter night had been reckless, even perilous. The storm's cruel embrace had slowed her journey, and she found herself fortunate to have escaped the clutches of the biting cold. The storm had slowed her down and she was lucky she hadn't died from the cold... or that awful beast. She finished her meal in silence, rising without uttering a word. As she moved to leave, he halted her with an unexpected announcement.

"I have something for you."

With a subtle yet firm touch, the vampire guided her towards the door of the basement, a realm she had yet to explore. There was an air of mystery about the descent into the lower levels, an uncharted territory that piqued her curiosity. Descending the stairs, she couldn't help but notice a serene smile gracing the duke's face, adding an enigmatic layer to the unfolding scenario.

The pathway, illuminated by the flickering light of torches lining the walls, exuded an eerie chill that seemed to cling to the air. As (Y/n) and the vampire continued their exploration, a distant door loomed at the far end of the corridor shrouded in shadows. However, they never reached it. The journey paused at a second door.

The first thing that came to her was the putrid smell. Next, was the figure slumped against the wall opposite to her. The duke widened the door, ushering light into the room.

She recoiled, a futile hand pressed against her mouth, but the horrified scream still erupted. Mary, the servant who had unwittingly aided her escape, lay there. (Y/n)'s eyes collided with vacant sockets. The girl slumped in the corner, bathed in blood. (Y/n)'s gaze trailed down her face, fixing on the throat. A crimson grin seemed to mock her. The slash across her throat emanated more life than her lifeless, gaping mouth.

One arm and one leg were bent at awkward angles as though she was a marionette that had been carelessly dropped. The remaining limbs lay a few meters away, severed from the rest. Entrails spilled unceremoniously on the floor.

(Y/n) crumpled to her knees, legs weakened. The world around her blurred as waves of anguish crashed over her, threatening to engulf every ounce of composure she possessed. In the midst of her torment, she unleashed a guttural scream of pain and despair that echoed through the emptiness around her. Tears streamed down her face as uncontrollable sobs wracked her body.

Two hands steadied her shoulders. "Take this as a warning," he declared, the words carrying a weight that extended beyond their immediate meaning. His grip on her shoulders tightened, the pressure a physical manifestation of the gravity of his words. "Actions have consequences, my dear."

The vampire leaned closer until his lips almost touched the girl's ear. His voice, low and intense, carried a chilling warning. "Don't you dare try to leave again," he hissed, the words spoken with a sense of finality. The proximity of his threat sent shivers down her spine. "I will find you. I will always find you. And everyone involved will have to pay for your foolishness," he affirmed, the weight of those words emphasizing an unwavering determination

He rose, leaving her sobbing in the wake of his departure, the door closing behind him.

(Y/n) clutched her chest, sobbing harder. This was her fault. She had brought this upon a poor girl who had done nothing wrong. And here she was now; forced to confront the consequences of her actions. She wept until no more tears flowed, until her voice became too hoarse to continue.