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Soldiers with spears guarded the front line. The vampires filled up some of the seats but it was difficult to see their faces in the dimly lit space. However, I recognized some of them from the tunnel area where they were having the orgies. No family or children gathered.
Go clean up the filth in the tunnel and teach them to be civilized. We’re vampires, not savages.
Above the people, six council members wearing hooded red cloaks peered down at me. No sign of Victus. But Markane, Abacus, and even Nadira and the woman who watched over her sat above the councilors.
One of the councilors in the center rose and extended his lanky arms outward. “Welcome, my people. You’ve been chosen to witness a special day, history in the making. The being before you is a Seraphim.”
The crowd gasped.
“How can you tell?” a woman from the top far end hollered.
The council member who had just spoken sat back down. “Do you not see the dried golden blood on her dress, and the hematite cuffs?”
“Show us she is what you say she is,” a male voice came from the left side.
Markane smirked and waved a hand. Soldiers dragged in two vamps from the same door I had entered, chains bound on their wrists and ankles. These two had bumps all over their faces and necks instead of a vampire’s usual glassy skin. They growled like wild animals, jerking their bodies from side to side with their fangs exposed trying to bite their captors.
What kind of disease changed an immortal being? I had never seen such a curse.
I backed away, but the soldier with curly hair held firmly to my arm. I peered up to Nadira and the woman next to her. For what? They couldn’t and wouldn’t help me. I wasn’t afraid to lose some blood, but I didn’t want to get bitten.
When Markane nodded, the four soldiers pinned the two vamps on the ground. One soldier each sat on the sick vampire’s chests, the other on their knees while the vamps continue to fight and snarl.
Thick black veins, like the vines on Dawn’s and Snow’s cloaks, wiggled like worms under the sick vamps’ faces and down their necks, likely all over their bodies too.
The soldier with curly hair took out a dagger from his waist, tugged me closer to the shorter vampire, and held my hand above his face.
The shorter vamp thrashed and hissed, but stilled when the soldier sliced my hand with a dagger. I hissed, but that was nothing compared to other wounds I’d had before. The shorter vamp sniffed like a dog and then parted his lips. Gold liquid dripped into his mouth. He licked his lips and swallowed greedily.
The crowd gasped when the shorter vamp began to convulse so violently that the soldiers on top of him were thrown off. I backed away, worried for my life. If he died, then what would they do to me? But then the tremor eased and he opened his eyes. The thick veins and bumps disappeared.
The short vampire rose and patted his face. He examined himself as he raised his tunic sleeves and ran a hand down his arms. He didn’t look like a hideous creature, but a vamp disguised as a human.
The mass applauded and some even stood.
“Do you believe us now?” Abacus stood and glanced at the citizens.
The cured vamp looked at me, but offered no smile or expression of gratitude, and ran out the door.
“Thomas. Thomas. Thomas!” the audience chanted.
Thomas must be the other vamp, growling. But he seemed to understand what had happened to his friend. I didn’t want the soldiers to cut me again so I squeezed the half-healed wound over his open mouth. Torchlight radiated on my dripping blood, like the sunlight shimmering across the ocean.
Now that the vampires had witnessed the power of a Seraphim’s blood, they would keep me prisoner for a lifetime, and they’d hunt every one of us. I feared for my people more than ever before.
Thomas convulsed as expected, but he didn’t stop shortly after like the cured one. His body continued to thrash and I held my breath. The horde patiently anticipating remained silent, but the snarls from Thomas got louder.
“What did you do?” the councilor who spoke last time accused.
I shook my head, taking a step back. “I didn’t do anything. I don’t know why it didn’t heal him.”
“Liar!” a female shouted.
“She killed Thomas!” another hollered.
Markane rolled his eyes. Abacus leaned back and crossed his arms without a care. Nadira lowered her head, and the lady put her arm around her shoulders.
The audience hissed and growled, and crimson eyes illuminated as they bared their canines. Thomas turned to the two soldiers guarding him and attacked, tearing through flesh, muscle, and bones, black blood splattering.
