This snippet is shorter than usual, but I'm still putting a fair chunk of it under the cut!
Lucien shifted his weight from one wing to the other. He had paced around the little room several times, had parted the small curtains to look out the window (which was a mistake since it was in fact daylight outside), had cradled the resulting minor burns on his hand, and returned to the little bed at the back of the room. It was during this stretch of time that Lucien’s hunger made itself known.
The door creaked open, and Dr. Bracy entered, followed by Nurse Seward and someone Lucien didn’t recognize. Human, by the looks of him. The rounded ears and lack of wings or fangs gave him away.
“You’ll feel better once you’ve fed,” Dr. Bracy said.
He grabbed the poor soul by the arm and dragged them closer. The scent of his blood assaulted Lucien’s nostrils.
A numbness spread from Lucien’s mind, replacing his initial panic with heavy silence. The fog weighed down his every thought.
“..Ien? Luc..!”
Was someone calling his name? Lucien didn’t much care to answer. As a matter of fact, Lucien didn’t much care about anything going on around him at all. He slipped further into the heavy mist, letting it swallow his consciousness whole.
…
“I think we found a trigger,” Dr. Bracy sighed.
“Feeding?” Nurse Seward asked in disbelief, “what kind of vampire goes cataleptic from the thought of feeding?”
“Prepare another dose from vial sixteen, stronger this time.”
“What shall I do with the thrall?” she asked.
“Return him to Dr. Maudsley,” Dr. Bracy said, “I told him I’d only take Fleamont for a few minutes, you know how Bennick worries about his humans.”
“Yes; odd quirk, that.” Nurse Seward took the human by the wrist, “come along, Fleamont.”
As Ailsa left with his colleague’s thrall, Dr. Bracy prepared a syringe. After filling it with the contents of vial sixteen, he held Lucien’s arm out and injected the dose into his system.
…
Lucien sucked in a breath as the brume around his senses lifted. He blinked rapidly, nearly falling over. Dr. Bracy steadied him.
“Easy, easy,” he said, “come along back, there we are.”
“What happened?” Lucien asked, “I can’t remember much, there was…”
“Ah ah, no,” Dr. Bracy said, “don’t strain to recall anything. The important thing is you’re back now.”
The doctor held Lucien’s wrist and watched the clock in the corner. Lucien shuddered; he could feel his own faint but present pulse under Dr. Bracy’s fingers. It unnerved him.
"Given your current state, I don’t want to overwhelm you with too many tests or procedures at once. For now, I want you to rest until nightfall, at which point I will have my colleague, Dr. Maudsley, come in and give a small evaluation.”
“…What kind of evaluation?”
“He’s going to look for what could be causing your cataleptic spells,” Dr. Bracy said, “and also assess if there are any other, underlying issues. Afterwards, we can make a diagnosis and formulate a treatment plan. Don’t fret, it’s all very safe.”
Lucien didn’t feel convinced. This sounded like they doubted his sanity. Well, to be fair, Lucien wasn’t always too sure of his sanity in the first place. Living under the thumb of the Ancient Vampire for seven hundred or so years would do that to a person. Regardless, he couldn’t let anyone find out just how deep the mental trouble went. If they did, he would never be free from the place. Although… a vacation from Erythros was indeed tempting.
“I see,” Lucien said slowly.
“Very good.” Dr. Bracy smiled, “I’ll be back in a few moments, then I’ll let you rest.”
Lucien watched the doctor cross the room and exit through the door. Once again, Lucien was in solitude. With any luck, he’d convince them during his evaluation that he was perfectly fine, of sound mind, and that he could be discharged by the next morning.
“There you are!” She scowled over at where I stood hesitantly in the doorway. “Where have you been? I’ve told you not to be out so late, and without even trying to let me know where you were.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, the words strange in my mouth. The sting of the usual scolding felt muted, at least a little bit.
“Well, what are you standing there for? Come in!” She turned away, and I took a careful step over the threshold. “There’s work to be done. Did you think you’d get out of it if you slunk off somewhere? With your sister out of the house now, there’s more work for fewer hands, so you’d better put those notions right out of your head.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again. The words came more naturally now, but still not quite right. “I’m sorry, I— I encountered a vampire.”
“You what?” she shrieked, spinning to stare at me, horrified. “What on earth possessed you to wander into the territory of those creatures? You could have died!”
I closed my eyes, swallowed against the terrible thirst, felt the strange, unpleasant shifting of my teeth.
The man standing across the room did not smile, but the corners of his eyes tightened in satisfaction. “As I suspected,” he murmured, and stepped forward, careful to keep his holy symbol in front of him.
I edged back, lips curling involuntarily at the sight of it. Unfortunately, this gave him a glimpse of fang, which elicited another quick nod from him. He stepped forward more confidently this time, making sure that the rope held in his other hand was clearly visible to me as well.
The rope that trailed up to the boards covering the large window high above, which I could now tell were not fastened as securely as they had seemed at first.
It was a well-set trap, I had to acknowledge, if only in my own mind. He had driven me to this place cleverly, methodically, and there was nowhere in this particular room that would be free of sunlight if he pulled those boards, and we both knew it.
I continued to back up anyway, slowly, reluctantly, until I felt my back touch the far wall.
He paced me, the rope growing more taut with every step, until the boards overhead creaked and the tiniest sliver of sunlight broke through.
I flinched against the wall, just a little.
“You have terrorized the innocent for too long, vampire,” he said, halting his steps before the rope pulled any more, holy symbol still held as a barrier between us. “You will do so no more.”
I snarled wordlessly, and another not-smile of satisfaction in return.
“I’ve waited for this,” he said calmly, and yanked the boards over the window free.
Sunlight broke over me, hot and bright.
Confusion broke over his face, when I did not immediately burst into flames.
“And I’ve waited for this,” I told him, allowing myself a fanged grin before I lunged for him, sweeping his holy symbol aside with ease.
“How?” he choked out, terrified, as my hand (now clawed and violet-skinned) closed around his throat.
“You see what you expect to see, human,” I told him, “but demons are not vampires, no matter how we choose to appear.” It had been easy enough to play the part of a blood-drinker, even if that was not how my kind usually sustained ourselves, and entertaining to see how well I could mislead my human pursuers.
“Here,” I said, shifting my appearance back to that of the vampire I had seemed to be moments ago. “Let me show you!”
Blood was not quite so fulfilling as other things, I had come to know, but as a delicacy here and there it appealed.
I feel my claws sinking into soft earth, as i scrabble at the ground, as I sob, screaming out the name of a lover who was never really there.
these dreams... hallucinations... are getting worse. or at least, it seems that way.
I curl into a ball, not sure where I am. (but I have an inkling.) not sure why I'm even in a physical place.
I shudder, imagining the feeling of blood dripping past my lips. my stomach growls with hunger.
a hunger that shouldn't be there, because it's wrong, it's wrong.
I shouldn't be hungry, not when I'm dead. not when I've gone so long without food, at least in this place.
but I am. because I'm not completely dead. not all the time, at least. that's what they implied when they looked under the microscope, at my ever-changing molecules, at the evidence of my unstable existence.
so I'm hungry. but I don't want to be. can't let myself be. because the cost is too high. especially if...
especially if that one dream wasn't a dream at all.
my throat feels dry. maybe from being parched, or maybe just from disuse.
I look up at the sky, and my suspicions are confirmed when I see the thick canopy, only cracks of inky blackness showing through, not a star in sight.
"i thought there'd be stars," my own voice echoes in my mind, a scrap of bitter memory fresh amongst the cobwebs.
my dirt covered claws scrunch up the fabric of my sweater vest ever so slightly. the satiny feeling of my sleeves rubs against the scars on my wrists, and I rip them at the elbows before tearing the offending fabric off.
the tattoos along the sides of my forearms stare at me, challenging, and I throw my head back to meet the ground again. I swallow harshly, blinking away tears.
I see the branches above me again, so very high, too high to ever hope to reach.
I know that I'm only here to torture myself. and yet, I can't bring myself to move.
a faint scent of vanilla spiced soap enters my mind, and the tears start falling freely. I'm hallucinating that now, too? the one sense I can usually rely on?
saliva gathers in my mouth again, and I want to scream. I'm so hungry.
it's quiet here. deathly quiet, one might say. except all the dead are gone now. (and they weren't much quiet anyhow.)
all gone except for me.
I roll onto my side again, back aching.
my back always aches. for many reasons, I suppose. but the reason that took place here always left my skin burning.
it burns in a different way, now. in a way that longs to be soothed, to be touched.
I miss them. sometimes I wonder if they know how much. because I know I certainly don't show it.
I miss her freckles, her ears, her laugh. the look in her eyes when she softens just enough for me to remember that they hold the weight of the world. the stony look upon her face when she is determined, or hiding her pain.
I miss his soft eyes. the way his muscles flex when he does something so impossibly gentle, the way it feels to be held by his girth as I weave my fingers into his hair. how he looks at me like a puppy, just happy I'm there. (even though it breaks my heart.)
I miss her hair. flaxen and long. her lips like petals, parting as she speaks, impossibly tender words and giggles leaving them. how she towers over a room in her calm, though she is much shorter than many others.
I miss his hands. long fingers delicate yet calloused, telling the stories of music and blood that his reserved demeanor won't. his nails polished and short, ready to pluck at strings or stir a whisk. a tattoo to match mine.
I miss his pale expanse of skin, his long neck, the way his eyes glow gold. I miss his smell. vanilla spiced soap, a myriad of herbs, the underlying thrum of magic crackling and blood pumping within him. I miss his stern looks of concern and his witty remarks and the way tears look falling across his cheekbones, and...
and.
and I am alone, and I am hungry.
filled with nothing but questions, about reality, morality, and love.
