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The vampire sighs, acting as if he’s disappointed in his own child. His attitude towards his servant strikes me as strange—perhaps closer than it should be or than I imagined it would be. “My house is your home, Kellen, you know that. You’re free to do as you please—even if I do find this obsession of yours a bit strange. But whenyou knowwe have a prisoner…”
Kellen swallows hard again. “The lock was secure—”
“Was it?” the vampire asks with another chuckle as he shakes his great mane of midnight black hair. Then he looks me up and down, a question in his gaze. “Just how—”
I waggle my bobby pin at him, imagining the feeling of his cold blood washing over my hands as I choke the life out of him—hey, they say it’s good to picture the goals in your life before they come to fruition.
“As locks go, I’d say that one was one of the easier I’ve come across,” I tell him, and I can taste his final lifeless breath on my tongue. Oh, yes, I’m most definitely going to kill him. I can feel it. But I’ll need to find a goddamn stake first and last I checked, I forgot to pack one.
“I suppose I will need to fortify my prison cells,” the vampire says with a shrug.
“Master,” Kellen nearly interrupts him. “Are you… are you wounded?” Then he gestures to the bloodied part of the vampire’s shirt, the place where I nicked him with my flying knife.
“You could say our… most ungratefulguestdid quite a number on me.”
Kellen gasps.
“Master…” he says breathlessly, eyes wide in shock and disbelief. “You’ve bled!”
“Calm yourself, Kellen,” the vampire says not unkindly.
“B-b-but… I thought… youcouldn’tbleed… unless…” Kellen looks at me with an expression of astonishment on his twisted face. Without so much as another bitter glance in my direction, Kellen then scurries off, up the stairs, and into the last remaining empty corner of the octagonal room. He stares straight forward, but I can see the fear in his eyes.
What the hell was that about?I wonder, only slightly concerned. The majority of my concern still lies in two different subjects: escaping and murdering the vampire.
As to the undead still standing before me, he’s most probably already healed by now. Vampires don’t stay hurt for long. Such a shame.
The vampire now turns all his attention to me.
I do the same to him, trying to make my less than impressive height appear a little more impressive.
What to do, what to do, what to do,I think to myself.
Yes, I want to murder him, but no, I can’t strike now. I don’t have a stake or sunlight or anything that could feasibly take this bastard down. And that means I have only one option left to me: I need to escape, to find my bearings and make a plan. Now that I know where the bastard lives, I can come back when I’m ready. And the second I have a stake in my hand, I will be.
“You know if you’d stayed in your cell,” the vampire says, conversationally, as he begins walking away from me, only to pace back again, “then you wouldn’t have had to get hurt, nor would Kellen and his people have gotten hurt. Much unnecessary blood spilled.”
“And you certainly can’t stomach unnecessary blood spilling?” I spit the words back at him.
“They didn’t mean you any harm.”
This conversation isn’t going as it’s supposed to. “Says the undead bastard who didn’t see even a second of what happened.” He chuckles at that, which makes the fires of my indignation burn even brighter. “Release me,” I say in my most stern voice. “And no one has to get hurt… again.”
The vampire gives me a look, considering me and what I’ve said with an oddly open expression.
“I’m afraid that won’t work for me,” he says finally.
“Then, what, I’m just to remain your prisoner?”
He clears his throat and doesn’t seem like he wants to answer the question. I give him an insistent glare and then raise my eyebrows as if to say:answer me, you undead son of a bitch.
“My name is Derith,” he says finally, as if answering a question I’ve asked. I have to wonder if he might be lacking in the mental department. “Derith D’Or…”
“I don’t care what your name is,” I finish for him, crossing my arms against my chest and glaring at him. “All I do care about is that I’m on a contract right now.”
“A contract?”
“Yes! And that means I have a job to do, and you’re getting in the way of my ability to do that job.”
