The pitch-black darkness I woke up to was so complete it almost convinced me I'd gone blind. I blinked hard and shifted on a cushioned surface.
Panic surged through me, my heart racing as I jolted upright, only to be yanked back by a sharp tug at my wrists.
Chains!
Heavy, unforgiving chains restrained my hands, weighing them down and limiting my movements.
The clinking of heavy metal echoed through the air, a hollow, hopeless sound that solidified the reality of my captivity. I strained against the restraints, rose to my knees and then sank back into what seemed like a bed.
This was futile.
I could not escape.
I shifted back, as far as the chains allowed, and I recoiled as the back of my head connected with a hard wooden surface.
I whimpered from the dull pain and surveyed my surroundings. It took a while, but I managed to make out the outlines of a few pieces of furniture. Even though the room seemed far darker than when I had first come in. The shadows seemed to move on their own. The air felt colder than before. Every corner held the potential presence of Lord Fashire, watching me, and revelling in my plight like a caged animal.
My temples throbbed in panic.
The vial!
I gasped. The potion was still in my room. What if Lord Fashire discovered it? The other vampire Lords could trace it back to the village and, ultimately, my father.
"No. Stop it!" I rammed my head down into the bed, the covers muffling my voice. My heart raged in my chest. There were so many things that could happen now. He could kill my father. I wasn't close to my aunt, but he could kill her too.
I shifted to lay on my side. What would I do? I had to do something. The air grew oppressive, heavy, solid… breathing became a difficult task.
I wheezed, attempting to bring myself under control. Uncertainty ripped at my soul, tearing the little resolve I had built up to shreds.
How could I escape this? Of all the vampire Lords, it just had to be Lord Fashire.
I hunched over, straining my ears for any sound. Silence enveloped the chamber aside my weak attempts to breathe.
Wait. What about the boy?
Sitting up, I called out, my voice hoarse, "Hello?"
No response came, and the absence of any sound beyond these walls made my skin crawl. I tugged at the chains once more, and drew my hands towards me. I felt my way around the smooth metal encircling my wrists. There were no crevices, no gaps to exploit.
I paused and caressed the metal again.
The effects of the potion had already faded. Even my sight had gone back to normal, yet why was my sense of touch still sharp?
I tugged at the chains once more. I went still. The vampiric strength was still there.
'What is happening?'
Also, why did the potion wear off so quickly?
A soft, wooden creak resounded in the darkness. Footsteps.
A brilliant flash of light blinded me. I flinched, instinctively raising my hands to shield my eyes from the onslaught.
"Look at me."
His voice cut through the glare. Harsh, commanding. My mouth dried up, and against my will, my hands lowered. Slight tremors flooded my system as I lifted my head.
He stood at the foot of the bed. The chandeliers high above bathed the chamber in a golden glow, casting an ethereal radiance upon him. He dangled the tiny bottle between his fingers. The pear-shaped vial swayed, its crimson contents swirling hypnotically against the thick glass. A momentary distraction from his penetrating gaze.
"Mind telling me what this is, 'servant'?" His words dripped with venom, and something far colder.
My muscles seized. Lord Fashire tilted his head, and his voice dropped, "Don't even think of lying. I would know."
My heartbeat thundered so violently I was sure he could hear it. Could he really tell if I lied? I pressed my lips tight, terrified that one wrong word would doom me.
But would he truly know if I lied? I could weave a different tale, something that would deceive him. It was a daring thought, but what choice did I have? I did not want to die. Not now, not here, and certainly not by his hands.
The pain he would inflict would be neither swift nor merciful. And what would become of my father once I was gone? Even his own sister-in-law would not care for him.
I parted my lips to speak, and before I could test the thought, he lunged forward, a blur of motion that materialized at my shoulder. Shock briefly registered before a searing agony radiated through my body. Ice-cold fangs pierced my skin, latching onto my flesh.
My body went rigid.
The burning pain came next.
I let out a violent scream.
I arched against his grip, thrashing and scratching in a desperate bid to escape. He rammed me back against the unforgiving headboard. Pain flared at my shoulder and spread through my body like liquid fire. I hunched over, tears blurring my vision as I clutched my bloodied shoulder.
A sharp hiss tore through the air, and I quickly clamped my mouth shut, stifling my sobs. I looked up at Lord Fashire's enraged yell. A fresh surge of agony wrecked my body at the sudden movement. I doubled over, struggling to contain the pain.
He darted to a corner of the chamber in an instant, and hurled a divan at the wall with a thunderous crash. The once-ornate piece shattered into splintered fragments, leaving an indelible mark on the polished stone surface.
Time seemed to stand still as I watched the high and mighty Lord Fashire hunch over, his hand pressed to his bloodied mouth. The sharp ache from my wounded shoulder paled in comparison to the sizzling hiss of his burning flesh.