I will be adding audio soon! (I ordered a real mic finally.)
Check out Parts 1-4 here:
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
It took an unfortunately short amount of time for Alden to complete Lady Anastasia’s command. Even after cracking open the bones and sucking out every last drop of marrow, the cavernous hunger within him lingered. Now alone in deafening silence, Alden sat in the corner of that stone cell, beside a pile of cleaned bones.
He looked down at his hands. They were stained with crusty dried blood and his linen shirt was painted with a matching shade of brownish red. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms, desperately trying to wash away the memories of what he had done. Of who he had eaten.
A fire burned in his chest as he looked at the pile of bones. He stood from the corner and walked over to them. His heart was brimming with hatred as he slammed his foot into it. Alden resented the fact he didn’t get to face that monster while he was still alive. Unable to get true retribution, he settled on destroying every bit of the trader until nothing of him remained.
Alden understood now that this cure, or rather, his becoming a vampyr, involved some considerable changes. Obviously, there was his desire for humans and not simply their blood, but their entire essence. There was Lady Anastasias inky black power, her ability to command him. Then, there was his strength. He was too caught up in his moment of fury to recognize how strong he had become, throwing an entire carriage like it weighed no more than a feather.
This strength aided him in making quick work of the traders’ bones, shredding them across the rough stone wall until they were nothing more than a pile of dust. Though his mind wandered to thoughts of his newfound abilities, his heart panged with guilt. Lady Anastasia was correct; he truly was a fool for searching for her manor. Though her chosen punishment was reprehensible, he couldn’t blame her for demanding he pay for his actions.
Alden had unknowingly exposed his daughter and Lady Anastasias manor to a vile beast. His shoulders fell as he realized the trader could have easily attacked that dark and relentless night and he would have been incapable of protecting his daughter.
He sat back down on the rough stone floor and leaned his back against the cool wall behind him. Looking up at the ceiling in contemplation. He was anxious to see his daughter again, but terrified to face her. A deep shame sat in the depths of his ravenous stomach. Only days ago, Alden had deluded himself into believing that he had found a sanctuary. That he had secured his daughters safety and future. But that had been fantasy. He jeopardized his daughter’s safety in search of a fairytale that didn’t exist.
His chest felt like a sunken cavern, no longer filled with fluid from an uncurable ailment, but suffocating anguish. The loss of a hopeless dream. He was nothing more than a naïve fool who hoped for a brighter future for his daughter. He sat in his self-pity, replaying all of his mistakes as a father. All of the times he failed Emily. The page from the traders’ journal danced across his mind, ‘Malnourished.’
He let out a defeated scoff; he couldn’t even provide enough food for his daughter. His ailment and limited education forced him to travel between towns for work, preventing Emily from attending school. Years of lies started falling away. Lies that it was only temporary, he was doing what was best, that she was better off with him than at an orphanage. He was a selfish man. Desperate to keep his daughter by his side not for her sake, but for his.
A wave of hardened resolve washed over him. Dying in ignorant bliss would have been an easier path, but he was granted an opportunity to make up for his lifetime of failures. Though he knew not what Lady Anastasia had in store for him, she had gifted him with more time. He only hoped he’d be able to use that time for his daughter’s sake.
“A pathetic sight this is,” a voice rang from beside him.
Alden jumped at the sound as his eyes met Ophelias. She was standing before him, bright orange hair braided in an updo and dressed in riding clothes. In her hands she carried chains.
She shook them at him, the sound of rattling metal filling the once silent room, “Lady Anastasia has requested your presence. I was tasked with bringing you to her, though I’d prefer not to use these if at all possible.”
“Is summoning a man from a torture chamber an ordinary occurrence for you?” Alden asked.
“I haven’t the time to answer your silly questions, will you come along willingly or need I restrain you?”
Alden rose in answer.
She nodded, “Before we depart, I have been given permission to kill you if you attempt to flee. While you are likely aware of some of your new abilities, I assure you, I am stronger than you. If you wish to see your daughter again, you will not force my hand. Understood?”
“Understood,” he said dryly.
Ophelia tossed the chains to the floor then made her way towards the misty black door. Shoulders hung in accepted defeat, Alden followed. They made their way up the spiraling staircase before Ophelia turned and entered another mist shrouded doorway. Beyond it was a long cobblestone corridor with heavy oak doors lining each side of the hall. It was brightly lit, brass candelabra sconces sitting between each doorway flickered gently across the worn stone. Ophelia opened the first door to their right and motioned Alden to enter it.
“I presume you can no longer smell yourself, so please, before I am forced to accompany you any longer, clean yourself up and be quick about it. There is a fresh shirt on the bed,” she said before quickly shutting the door.
Alden heeded her orders and gladly washed away the bloody memories of before. After replacing his shirt, he opened the wooden door where Ophelia was waiting. They returned to the spiraling staircase making their way up to the main floor of the manor. Alden anticipated the scent of human blood to overwhelm him, but it now whirled around him like a playful perfume. Tantalizing still, but no longer unbearable.
Ophelia navigated through the sprawling halls of the Manor until they managed to make it outside. It was a clear night, stars sprinkled the sky. Alden inhaled the fresh air as he took in his surroundings with breathtaking clarity. A waning moon peaked just above the evergreen treetops. Shining a dim light across the untamed wilderness below.
“Like a babe in the woods,” Ophelia chided under her breath bringing Alden’s attention back to the task at hand.
They followed a gravel path away from the manor to a small stable, housing two saddled horses. Ophelia began untying the horses from their hitching posts. She reached out to hand Alden a set of reins.
“Where are we headed?” he finally asked as he took the reins.
Ophelia placed her foot in the stirrup and swung her leg over, “As I said, I am bringing you to Lady Anastasia.”
Alden rolled his eyes then mounted his horse.
“Follow me and do not fall behind,” She ordered as she took off in a gallop.
Without command, Alden’s horse followed, rushing into a gallop behind Ophelia. Though much of the underbrush of the forest was untamed, the horses needed little guidance, making their way out of the dense wilderness and onto the main road effortlessly. The brisk night air clung to Alden as he realized their destination. They were headed straight for Easton Burrough.
As they drew closer Alden expected to see plumes of smoke billowing from chimneys. But the normally bright and bustling town was drenched in darkness. As they drew closer to the towns edge, Alden noticed a wall of crystalline tendrils that reached up at the sky. Droplets of darkness melted off them as they flickered around in search of something to grasp onto.
Ophelia galloped right past the barrier and Alden’s horse, which seemed to have a mind of its own, ignored the tug at its reins and followed. Alden shut his eyes in anticipation as he rushed the barrier. Moments later, his horse came to a complete stop. Alden opened his eyes, realizing they were stopped in front of the town church.
Photo By: Robert Hoover
He glanced over his shoulder at the tendrils and shivered, grateful to have been granted passage. Though it was late, the town of Easton Burrough carried an unsettling quietness. The lights that typically casted a warm flickering glow across the gravel roads were out. The only sign of life came from within the church. Alden could hear the rumble of chatter from inside. He dismounted his horse and followed as Ophelia approached the church. She pushed open the large wooden doors that whined with age.
Inside, the old church pews were filled to the brim and at the center near the altar sat Lady Anastasia. Dressed in a black floor length gown with a fitted bodice and high collar she looked like a queen upon her throne. A line of townsfolk stood before her and the room was alight with excited chatter.
Photo Also by Robert Hoover
Ignoring the stares as they entered the room, Ophelia made her way to Lady Anastasia. Trailing behind Alden scanned the room recognizing many familiar faces, though not one spared him a second glance. Once at the altar, Ophelia took her place beside Lady Anastasia standing at the ready for her next command. Alden joined them at the pulpit, silently taking in scene before him.
“I’ve got two boys, six and nine, both are skilled with farm work. Good strong boys ready to work,” a man said to Lady Anastasia.
Alden recognized the man before them as the town tailor. He knew little of the tailor but had heard rumors he suffered from a terrible gambling problem.
“What price do you seek?” Lady Anastasia asked.
The man looked to the trembling woman beside him who shook her head in desperation, quietly pleading with her husband.
The man ignored his wife and said, “A shingle a piece.”
His wife grabbed him by the collar, “Alfred you musn’t. They’re mere boys.”
Alfred ripped his wife’s grip away focusing on Lady Anastasia response.
“Two shillings it is. Alfred go to that side,” she said as she pointed to the right, “Your wife will take a seat over there while we handle our affairs,” she finished as she gestured to the left.
Alfred nodded and his wife let out a pitiful sob, nearly falling to her knees. Alden scanned the room, searching for the boys who were sold so heartlessly. But there were no children to be found. Alden furrowed his brow in confusion and glanced to Ophelia.
She glared back at him, “Listen and observe, quietly,” her voice echoed in his mind.
The next in line was an elderly woman who stared at Lady Anastasia like she was a parasite, “You ought be ashamed of yourself. Buying up the next generation of Easton Burrough. What gives you the right,” she scolded.
Lady Anastasia let out a deafening laugh, stunning the entire room to silence. She leaned forward and met the woman’s eyes, “Surprised you made it to your ripe age with a tongue so sour.”
The woman scoffed, “Your beauty will betray you one day.”
Lady Anastasia smirked and waved her hand to the left, dismissing the woman’s complaints. The woman huffed giving Lady Anastasia one last dirty look before taking a seat. The atmosphere in the left pews carried an ominous weight of horror and fear. It stood in stark contrast to the other half of the room, that bustled with jovial chatter.
Alden’s eyes grew wide with realization; this was an auction. Lady Anastasia was doing exactly what the trader had planned, but she was doing it in plain sight. Methodically revealing the dark underbelly of Easton Burrough. To the right, Alden recognized several of the men to be members of the town council, including the mayor. Most of the towns influential class sat on the right. Landowners, barons, and even the town priest chattered amongst themselves in excited anticipation.
After a few more offers, at last they reached the end of the line. An older fellow baring a cane and dressed in proper church attire waddled his way to the front of the room.
“What is your request?” Lady Anastasia asked, her tone effortlessly enthralling.
The man smiled as he laid eyes upon Lady Anastasia. Then he glanced at Alden and his delighted grin fell, “Alden Cain is that you?”
“Harold? It’s great to see you again,” Alden said warmly he took a step forward to shake the man’s hand.
“You greet your daughters’ buyer,” Lady Anastasias voice echoed in his mind.
Alden’s grip tightened and the old man grimaced, “My-Alden it seems you’re doing well.”
Alden released Harolds hand and gave a tight nod, “Indeed I am.” After an uncomfortable pause, he added, “Carry on, apologies for the interruption.” He feigned a small bow, returning to his place beside Ophelia, heart now ablaze with fury.
“Behave yourself,” Ophelia whispered.
Alden nodded as he gritted his teeth.
“I ask again, what is it you seek?” Lady Anastasia repeated, her tone sharp.
Harold bowed his head, “Well I know not what your plans are for the children; however, I am in desperate need of assistance. You see, I had no children of my own and my old age is getting the better of me,” he paused and let out a dramatic cough before continuing, “I seek a child to aid me in my final days. Someone to ease the journey.”
He gave a smile to Lady Anastasia that made Alden’s blood boil. Harold had employed him several times over the years. Alden had believed him to be a kind but capable old man. As he ran through his memories of Harold, he thought back to the disappointed looks he wore whenever Alden didn’t bring Emily along with him for a day of work. What Alden had taken as grandfatherly behavior now carried a weight of eerie intention.
Alden had to restrain a scoff, watching Harold put on the act of a feeble old man. Only a month ago, Alden watched this man load and unload an entire carriage of lumber singlehanded. The man was in better health than he had been before his cure.
“Tell me exactly what you’re looking for,” Lady Anastasia said, her tone reflecting her waning patience.
Harold nodded, “I’d much prefer a girl. Young enough to train. About six or so. She doesn’t need to read or write, so long as she knows how to tend to wounds and cook. That is all I ask.”
Bile rose to the back of Alden’s throat as this man described his daughter. Violent visions of ripping out Harolds heart played in his mind. It took every ounce of strength he had not to attack Harold on the spot. He was grateful his fear of Lady Anastasia was greater than his rage in that moment.
“I believe we have one that fits your request perfectly,” Lady Anastasia said smoothly. “Mister Cain, little Emily fits that description exactly, wouldn’t you agree?”
Alden stood frozen in stunned silence. Eyes growing wide as he looked to Lady Anastasia.
Her typically cold eyes met his but carried a gentleness behind them as her voice echoed in his mind, “Play along.”
Clearing his throat he turned back to Harold, “Indeed she does. In fact, she has become quite the little chef.”
Lady Anastasia glanced over her shoulder at Alden as he spoke, looking him up and down briefly before nodding and turning back to Harold, “Would little Emily suffice?”
Harold’s eyes grew wide, “I-I couldn’t. Alden, Emily is your pride and joy is she not?”
Alden scoffed, “A few shillings are of much more use to me.”
The lie felt like fire on his lips. But he spoke it effortlessly adding a shrug of nonchalance. Garnering the approval from the lively group on the right who let out several chuckles and sounds of agreeance.
“Name your price,” Alden said, feeling the skewering glares from the left.
Harold glanced between Lady Anastasia and Alden, as if searching for their bluff. Then, after being lured into a false sense of comfort he spoke, “Would three shillings suffice?”
Alden maintained his composure despite the growing hatred inside and nodded, “Deal.”
Harolds eyes lit up with excitement, “Deal.” He gave a toothy grin to both Alden and Lady Anastasia as he spoke, “I assure you I will treat her well.”
Alden restrained himself from lunging at the man. Instead, giving a tight nod as Lady Anastasia gestured for him to join the others on the right. Then she rose from her seat, addressing the entire crowd.
“I am truly grateful to you all for attending this unexpected event,” she spoke with charismatic warmth. Her presence captivated the room.
Lady Anastasia scanned the room methodically as she continued, “I never imagined I’d be welcomed by the entire town when I announced this auction. The mayor and councilmen welcomed me with open arms.” She gave them a beguiling smile as she continued, “I assure you all I will take good care of your children.”
Murmurs of excitement and dread filled the room. Lady Anastasia paused, allowing the tension to grow before adding, “Some of you may have heard rumors of a strange Manor deep in the woods. I am the Lady of that Manor.”
The room fell suddenly quiet at her introduction. Several of the men and women sitting to the right now wore pale expressions, their eyes locked on Lady Anastasia in knowing anticipation.
She continued with her charade, “Who here is familiar with the Trader, Warner McGrath?”
Several of the townsfolk, including most of the councilmen, hesitantly raised their hands. Their enthusiastic mood shifted to uncertainty. Alden smirked at their now obvious discomfort.
The elderly woman from before spoke up, “May god damn him to eternal hell! That sick bastard.”
The townsfolk in the pews beside her nodded in agreement. Though the crowd to the right shifted in their seats.
Lady Anastasia continued ignoring the outburst, “The trader came to my Manor, not but a week ago. In fact,” she lifted her hands, releasing a gust of wind that blew out the candles and slammed the front door closed. “He came to my manor in search of merchandise,” her once affectionate tone now dripped with animosity.
The townsfolk all gasped at her display, glancing around the room frantically as dark figures began lining walls, blocking every exit. Alden recognized the cloaked figures. They were attendants from the manner. Their typical attire now replaced with matching black cloaks. They stood like grim apparitions around the room in wait for their master’s order.
Photo by: Stockcake
Lady Anastasia casted her hand in an upward motion, pulling those crystalline black tendrils from the border up through the center of the room. Dividing the townsfolk.
Her voice bellowed, “You will all come to understand the weight of your sins. Either from your participation,” she looked to the right, “Or from ignorant complicity” she finished as she looked to her left.
Cries echoed throughout the church. The translucent tendrils flicked in hunger, snapping at townsfolk on either side. Lady Anastasias icy laugh filled the room, her sinister smile reflecting the cold moonlight. Several of the cloaked figures moved forward. Skittering out of the shadows like cobras. Striking at the townsfolk on the right.
The townsfolk on the left huddled together, crying into each other’s arms as bloodcurdling screams erupted. The attendants began cutting down the buyers and sellers in malicious delight. The scent of fresh blood filled the room and the urge to hunt overwhelmed Alden, who stood obediently beside Ophelia.
Lady Anastasia glanced over her shoulder at him, eyes glimmering with iridescent darkness, “Mister Cain, that one,” she pointed to Harold who was backed against a wall, watching the massacre unfold, “Is yours.”
Without hesitation, Alden lunged forward in unnatural speed, grabbing Harold by the throat shoving him against the wall.
Eyes wide with fear, Harold choked out, “P-please don’t. I-I promise, I meant to take good care of Emily.”
Alden’s grip tightened, “Do not dare speak her name.”
Using his free hand, Alden shoved his fingers into Harolds mouth, grabbing hold of his tongue, yanking it free with ease.
Harold tried to scream, but all that came was ragged wet gasps. Alden wanted to restrain himself to prolong Harolds suffering, but the unbridled hatred in his heart screamed for retribution. Throwing the mans tongue to the side, Alden reached into his mouth again, forcing it open. Harold let out pathetic whimpers and grabbed at Aldens arm in a feeble attempt to defend himself.
Alden dug into the soft underside of his mouth. His fingers pierced out the bottom of Harolds face curling around the jawbone, tearing it slowly from its socket. Alden pulled his hand away, leaving Harolds ravaged mouth hanging wide. His jaw now dangling like a morbid swing from his skull.
Harolds eyes began to roll back into his head as Alden lifted his body off the ground by his throat.
“We trusted you,” he seethed, staring up at Harold with blazing crimson eyes.
Harold squealed in terror, his feet kicking aimlessly in the air.
“Years I worked for you. Believing you to be a gentle man. A kind man,” Alden continued. He brought Harolds face to his, locking eyes with the man who stared back in horror. “Rot in hell,” Alden spat.
Then, Alden tightened his grip around Harolds throat until the bone cracked and blood and fatty tissue squeezed out from between his fingers. Harolds eyes became lightless voids as his body went limp. Dissatisfaction rippled over Alden. Frustrated that his death had been a mercy, Alden threw Harolds lifeless body to the tendrils in the center of the room. They hungrily whipped at the body, slicing away pieces of flesh. Turning it a sickly grey color before melding with the tendrils, becoming one.
Alden stood back, watching the chaos around him. Blood and limbs scattered the pews as the attendants made quick work of the townsfolk, tearing them limb from limb and feeding them to Lady Anastasias tendrils. Gurgling screams filled the space and blood painted the stained-glass windows. The rush of his kill faded leaving behind an emptiness he had never known. Slowly, Alden walked back to the altar, returning to Lady Anastasias side.
Looking out at her orchestrated massacre she asked, “Do you not wish to continue the hunt?”
Alden shook his head. He had never killed a man before, but now, he had killed without question. Lady Anastasia didn’t command the kill, she offered and he willingly accepted. Though he did not regret his actions, he longed for the simplicity of his past, his lost ignorance.
Lady Anastasia nodded, “Very well.”
They stood at the pulpit watching the massacre in silent satisfaction. Slowly, the chaos came to an end, the attendants returning to their place at the perimeter of the room in silent obedience. When the last body fell, Lady Anastasia raised her hand, then swung it down in a sweeping motion. The tendrils at the center of the room dissipated into black mist.
The townsfolk on the left who had been huddled together in frantic terror screamed as the mist subsided, revealing the bloodbath.
“Silence,” Lady Anastasia commanded.
The room grew silent.
“Each of you has a choice to make,” Lady Anastasia continued. “The town of Easton Burrough will fade into oblivion tonight. Its children will come to my manor where my attendants and I will care for them until adulthood.”
“Where you’ll eat them!” screamed a trembling woman.
Ophelia stepped forward, “The Lady will do no such thing,” she shouted back. “You petulant human, know your place.”
The woman cowered at her words.
Lady Anastasia put her hand to Ophelia’s chest. Ophelia sighed, then nodded in submission, returning to her place between Alden and Lady Anastasia.
“Your choice is simple, die here tonight with the town of Easton Burrough, or serve me at my Manor.”
The elderly woman from before stepped forward, speaking firmly she asked, “Tell me, what kind of beast are you?”
Ophelia began to step forward but Lady Anastasia stopped her, then said, “You label me a beast when it was your kin who sought to sully the innocence of your youth.”
“They were no kin of mine. Not all carry the power you hold, nor the ability to lure out the monsters in disguise. You called us complicit, but weakness does not equate culpability.”
Lady Anastasia let out an amused laugh, “Tell me your name so I might address you properly.”
The woman stood proud, “My name is Doris Eade.”
“Well Misses Eade, you are a fearless woman, so I will grant you an answer. Your people call us as Vampyr.”
Shouts erupted from the crowd, but Doris put her hands out to silence them, “Is that what the children are to become?”
Lady Anastasia shook her head, “I would not subject the children to the cruelty of eternity. However, if you choose to join me at my manor, that curse will become your burden.”
Doris gave a small bow then looked up with tear-filled eyes, “Then, Lady of the Manor, I would be grateful to carry this burden alongside you.”
***
The Grimoire Vault 
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