Liberty Stafford

Marko had led him unwittingly to the fox's corpse whose eyes were beginning to fog over with the first advances of death. Daniel pitied the dying animal whose mouth had frozen open in a cry of pain, but Marko's presence was taking away all of his compassion. Drained him of it ounce by ounce. Marko picked the creature up by the scruff of its neck and it dangled like a useless piece of meat in a butcher's window. Its glorious tail hung thick and full between twitching legs. Daniel marvelled at the myriad of colours in the pelt, orange and red with flecks of gold, its black tail as if dipped in ink. Delicate white cheeks painted his petite face.

Blood dripped from the bullet wound. Marko held the injury before Daniel's eyes. Blood dribbled down the coarse hairs, changed the colours of the pelt, running free and warm like rich ruby claret. Marko's canines slithered from their shields. His face creased into heavy bunches around his eyebrows. His cheeks emptied of any plumpness. Marko revealed his inner beast.

"Taste it," Marko demanded in demonic tones.

"No," Daniel replied, but could not avert his eyes from the droplets of blood.

"You have been a slave to humans for too long. It's time to rediscover your destiny. Become one of the family. Say yes to your true fate."

* * * *

For a long time, Daniel glared at the fox. Pity glowed in his eyes at first, but his countenance darkened. Katarina noticed dark shadows cover his brow which deepened in circles under his eyes. She had never witnessed his vampire side until this moment when a grotesque mask covered his beautiful features. Wrinkles furrowed his skin. His paleness tinged with grey. Animalistic teeth erupted past the lips she loved to kiss.

Katarina floated away. Hid behind a tree. Turned her face and wept. She wanted to disappear. Yet she knew, if she deserted him, he would be lost forever.

Daniel prowled closer to the fox. He sniffed around the body as saliva drooled in a string from his lips. Shaking, he lengthened a finger and reached for the seeping wound.

"What happened here? Are they what I think they are?"

"Probably." Daniel assisted her into a standing position. "Come on. Talk later. Move faster. They are still hungry." He urged Katarina to move as Stefan began to stir with a shake of his shaven head and blink of his bleary, bloodshot eyes.

"I can't go any faster," Katarina replied, out of breath, her mind still fuddled with the fog of Niko's tricks.

"Then hold on to me. Tightly."

Daniel had no idea how flight would affect Katarina as his passenger. He focused on the swirling, dense cloud cover that twisted at the edge of the midnight sky. His coat blurred, as if the fabric dissolved into separate particles and hovered around him like murky steam until it melted with the midnight clouds. This undulating miasma coiled and coated them in the spectral mist.

Stefan looked on with a perplexed expression not too different from his usual confused appearance.

* * * *

Wrapped in the hazy coverlet of vapour, Katarina gripped tight to Daniel. Her fingernails dug into the fabric of his coat as her heart dug into his. His thin, muscular arms wrapped around her like a lifebelt holding her safe. She nestled her hands into the cool crease of his elbows. She laid her face, against the firm slab of his chest. No warmth was available to comfort her, but without it she was still secure, even when her feet were no longer upon the ground. They whirled together in the blurred ribbons of fog, spiralled away on the mysterious zephyrs to the furthest edge of the park, away from danger. Giddy, light as a feather, but not nauseous, Katarina would have believed anything, even that time had stopped. Beneath them was the blackness of the whirling cloud. His gaze, vivid and sparkling, held her steady. It pierced her core. The reality of a nearby housing estate seemed to them to be part of a different world while they searched one another's souls in the spinning colours of their eyes.

Once more their feet touched ground. Under the safety of an ancient yew tree, Katarina looked at the pale face before her, a princely shade of white. "How did you do that? No, don't answer. Just, thank you for saving me." She glanced around to ensure Niko hadn't followed and turned back to him, too bashful to hold the gaze of his vivid irises.

"We are safe here," Daniel spoke with tenderness.

"How do you know?"

"I just know."

"Niko, is he…a vampire?"

"He wasn't always. But yes, he is now."

"What was he before?" She realised they were very close and had their hands upon one another's forearms.

"He was my cousin," Daniel answered.

"And you?" Katarina sighed, fearful of his reply. "What are you? You can't be a vampire, can you? I'm not afraid of you. But you feel cold." She released his arms.

"I'm a dhampir, a half vampire. I mean you no harm."

"I know that," she answered and lifted his hands. "Somehow."

Peter had taken a late dinner date with Lady Hertford at her grand mansion on the outskirts of the city. Her husband was away on business and Peter had designs upon winning his latest bet. Both money and his reputation depended upon it and he had to amuse himself somehow before the ball.

“Do you like my husband’s brandy?” the older, attractive, brown haired lady asked him directly across the small luncheon table.

Peter swirled the warm liquid in his hot palm, “I do. Your husband’s possessions are fine indeed. Can I pour you another glass of wine?”

“I shouldn’t,” she replied demurely, “although it is very fine. His taste has always been for the finer things in life. Pour, do.”

“Is that a squirrel in the garden?” Peter asked, peering through the French doors towards the sweeping greenery.

“Oh, where!” Lady Hertford asked and did not notice the white powder nimbly slipped into her glass from Peter’s ring. When she turned around, any trace was already vanished.

He passed her the beverage, “My mistake.”

Over the pristine white linen tablecloth, their eyes met lustily and Peter began to wonder if he had needed to introduce the drug after all.

“My, my,” she swooned, “is it hot in here?”

“A little. Perhaps I should open a window?” Peter watched her reactions closely. Her eyes had begun to bat languidly.

“Not necessary,” she smiled weakly and took another sip of wine.

“A turn around the garden perhaps?”

“No, sir, suddenly I feel rather tired.”

Peter measured his words carefully and let them fall heavily and deliberately from his mouth, “Then perhaps you should lie down? May I be of assistance?”

Lady Hertford took his offered hand. “I thought you would never ask.”

“Yes.” Peter softly laughed. “Gentlemanly behaviour will be my downfall, everyone claims it so.”