The Abbey, early 1432
“The boy is dangerous! You must see it, Jermaine,” wailed Bastian in the midst of cleaning up the kitchen from Kayleb’s earlier rampage.
No one had any inclination why the young man went crazy. The friars had done all they could to keep him happy. They fed him, clothed him and gave him everything he ever asked for, so why had their son acted so rashly against them?
“Bastian, please try and calm yourself. Kayleb was just hungry and in need of his elixir,” said Jermaine, defending their so-called son in spite of his recent moody behavior.
“That’s a likely excuse. And stop calling it elixir! We know it’s blood. ”
“Help me, Bastian! Jermaine, make him stop,” cried Alexander, the victim of a blood-driven monster who had destroyed all of the furniture in his home. Both Bastian and Jermaine dropped what they had in their hands and became astoundingly alert to the manly scream from the next room.
Alexander ran into the kitchen looking for help but was caught by the collar of his robe. Kayleb’s grip was tight like that of an angry avenger as he lifted Alexander four inches off the floor. “I am going to venture out tonight,” Kayleb declared with a heavy Transylvanian accent, much like the others had. “I will not be kept up in this desert-like, poverty ranked building!”
“Kayleb, please do not be so harsh. We understand your feelings of repression, but this is for your own good,” stated Jermaine soothingly.
Kayleb lowered Alexander to the floor but didn’t release him. “’Myowngood,’” he sneered, reaching a high level of anger. “My own good would be for you to part with what feelings you have for me and let me out of this imprisoned hell you have shut me up in. I have lived with your excuses for keeping me in here for the past decade and a half and I will not stand for it any longer!” he shouted, his clear blue, gem-like eyes screaming out his immortal suffering. His lonely soul burned from within for its first chance at freedom.
“There is absolutely noway we are letting you out of here,” Bastian yelled in frustration, redistributing the trash pile he and Jermaine had neatly made.
Kayleb smiled in mockery, his pearly white teeth and fangs glistening in candles’ light. “I have discovered my inhuman strength and I am stronger than you will ever be, Bastian. There is no way you can stop me.” He stared mesmerized at Alexander’s neck watching the veins throb with fresh blood.
A vicious hunger crept up on him. He could feel its painful gnawing in his stomach, and the burning sensation within his heart and veins from the lack of blood. They howled with sharp jolts of pain for him to quench their hunger for the living mortal drink.
Kayleb tried to ignore the cries but they were too intense and too loud to try and repress. There is only one way to stop it, he thought and sank his incisors into the pale, wrinkly flesh of Alexander’s throat.
Bastian and Jermaine stood horror-struck unable to move to save their own lives let alone their friend’s. For how could they stop one who was greater in strength, power, and speed?
Kayleb looked at the two paralyzed men as he dropped their brethren to the floor. Not wanting to speak to them he fled to the door, yet he perceived by some sense, that his business was not quite finished.
Bastian turned his fear into untamed rage. “After all that we have done for you, to keep you alive and safe… I can’t believe you would dare treat us this way,” he exploded, climbing over an upturned table and chairs to stand physically up to the dark warrior.
