The Font

by Tracy St. John

  He gave her a slight shake of his head, assuring her of his lie. He would never let another taste even one drop of her blood. She belonged to him alone.

  Mollified, Naya went back to looking aloof. Later she would chastise him for offering such a thing, and he would apologize and reaffirm how he would forever look after her, keeping her safe as he had for almost twenty years. His profuse exclamations of contrition would even make her feel a little guilty that she had doubted him for even an instant. Heriolf had been dancing with Naya for most of her life now, and he knew all the steps. Leading her was as easy as ruling the vampires.

  As for anyone who did give him the information he sought, he would offer a few drops of another’s blood in a cup, some young child snatched from its bed perhaps. Young ones did taste the best, and who would argue that perhaps it was not Naya’s blood? No one that wanted to keep his second life going.

  And if someone suggested he was due a draught straight from the Font herself? Let the fools only try to sip from her and they will know a final death too horrible to be contemplated.

  Naya was his. Heriolf wasted no conscience on the ethics of double-crossing those who presumed too much.

  * * * *

  It was a battle to keep the grim smile off Elisha’s face. Randalf had gone to his final death as soon as he’d given up all he knew of the Font. Considering how he’d helped Heriolf kill so many, including Elisha’s sire, it was justice long overdue.

  As Heriolf’s ice-brittle gaze swept in his direction, Elisha concentrated on muddying his thoughts. He pushed forth false deliberations of how ironic it would be to eat at Heriolf’s table since the king killed his sire, how lucky he was he didn’t have to pay for his sire’s treachery against the mighty ruler. Perhaps he could find a way to ingratiate himself with Heriolf? Take the missing Randalf’s place?

  Heriolf’s gaze went elsewhere, and Elisha relaxed. He felt dirty from the false ruminations he’d put forth, for the pretended ill thoughts of his maker, the wise council member Thaddeus. Had Elisha loved his birth father so much? He thought perhaps not. Thaddeus had rescued Elisha from a life of pain and torment, a life of neverending sorrow. He had owed his sire so much, and the elder vampire’s final death had taken away all chances to repay the debt, save one.

  You will be avenged, my maker, Elisha thought. Or I will go to my final death attempting it.

  A long, spare vampire stepped to Heriolf’s side for a brief word. Elisha decided Lyndon, who’d been turned barely fifty years prior, must be Randalf’s replacement.

  After a quick consultation, Lyndon called to the congregation. “We will begin the ceremony. Let the new subjects of our master Heriolf step forward to swear their fealty.”

  About thirty vampires moved forward towards the seated self-proclaimed king. Elisha wasn’t interested in any of the supplicants hoping to join the Savannah vampires. He watched the stone-faced Naya, letting Lyndon’s nasal tones wash over him.

  “You who have joined King Heriolf’s realm this last year have drawn numbers. Let the first step forward and beg the master’s favor.”

  The first vampire, a very new member of the undead judging from the extravagance of his multicolored tattoos, took a step forward and knelt on one knee before Heriolf. “I come from the northeast region where vampires are bid to stay hidden and feed upon the blood of animals. The leaders there have forgotten our supremacy over the human cattle, upon which we should feed on exclusively. King Heriolf, you are known to keep to the old ways, where a vampire hunts his prey with pride and feeds well until it dies. I swear unto you my loyalty until final death turns my body to ash.”

  He looked ridiculous to Elisha with his black eye makeup and lipstick and all those garish tattoos, but his speech showed an educated mind. Too bad he wasted such pretty words on a lout like Heriolf. The old Norseman puffed up like a toad with self-importance, no doubt fed by the flattery.

  His gravelly voice boomed. “You are welcome on my lands to live as a vampire was meant to. I welcome you and bid you to feast at my table.”

  With an exaggerated sweep of one huge hand, Heriolf indicated the bound humans. The vampire stood, bowed deeply to the master vampire, and stalked over to the row of naked bodies lying on the floor. He immediately yanked up a young, comely woman who screamed around her gag. She struggled uselessly, her wrists tied tightly behind her back, as the vampire took her to a nearby banquet table and laid her upon it.

  As Heriolf’s newest subject bit into her neck, he freed his penis from black leather pants. He raped her as he drank her life, drawing blood with fang and cock. The watching company cheered him on as he took what Heriolf claimed was the vampire’s due.

  The poor girl had probably been snatched from a college campus or during a night stroll on the beach. As far as Heriolf was concerned humans were cattle, creatures existing solely for the pleasure of vampires. He had little concern that the growing predations on the local population would be noticed, putting the vampires of southeast Georgia in danger of discovery.

  Not to mention the destruction of innocent lives was just plain wrong.

  As the girl’s struggles weakened and her screams faded, Elisha stole a glance at Naya. Her pale blond head had turned from the disgusting display, and her tiny fists were clenched. Heriolf whispered to her, and she shook her head.

  Another burst of cheers from the vampires brought Elisha’s attention back to the feeding. The newly welcomed vampire rose from his now dead meal and joined the crowd as his victim fell from the table to the floor like a boneless rag doll. Human servants, thin, gray-skinned beings, scurried to remove her.

  Lyndon grinned like a game show host. “Let us have the next candidate.”

  A female vampire moved forward, her bobbed brunette hair and flapper-styled dress suggesting she last drew breath during the Roaring ‘20’s. Her white kid gloves were spotless. She took several steps forward, closing the distance to Heriolf. He smiled at her, but Elisha noticed how sharp his ice-chip eyes became.

  She offered a curtsey. “Glorious King Heriolf, I come to you in all humility to—”

  “To murder me and take my place.” Heriolf laughed into the shocked silence. “I hear your thoughts, fool. Have you not been told of my powers? Of my absolute omnipotence?”

  The female vampire didn’t wait to hear more. She sprang at Heriolf, a silver blade in her gloved hand. She was fast. Heriolf was faster.

  The Norseman seized the flapper in mid-air and ripped her in half at the waist as if tearing a sheet of paper. He flung the two parts to the marble floor. Blood sprayed, and Naya ducked the splatter by crouching behind Heriolf’s chair.

  His massive bare chest covered in the twitching vampire’s blood, Heriolf roared at the assembled. “I am not only your master, I am your god! Who else will challenge me?”

  No one spoke. No one moved. Elisha caught Sebastian’s gaze with his own. Moving carefully, he knelt and bowed his head. Everyone around him immediately followed suit, and less than a second later, every vampire, except the ones standing guard near Heriolf and Naya, had gone to their knees.

  There were a few moments of utter silence as the congregation awaited the tyrant’s next reaction. Heriolf had been known to go into murderous rages, killing off a dozen vampires at one go just because they were unlucky enough to be at hand when he lost his temper.

  Nothing can be as still as a vampire. Even their hair was motionless, refusing to acknowledge the occasional errant breeze.

  Heriolf’s voice rolled through the room like distant thunder. “Clean this up and continue the ceremony.”

  Human servants scurried out from the next room once more, collecting the two halves of the vampire. She twitched, too stunned to mount a defense before they tossed her into the mammoth fireplace. While other human servants quickly wiped blood from the floor, all were silent to listen to the would-be killer scream as the flames ate into her. Fortunately, she went up quickly and died within a minute or two.

  His 100-watt
smile dimmed to about 40, Lyndon still managed to speak smoothly. “Let us have the next candidate.”

  The ceremony resumed. Now on edge because of the failed attack, everyone’s nervous attention focused like lasers on the candidates presenting themselves. Heriolf and his guards were as wary as everyone else, and Elisha took the opportunity to ease himself to the very back of the crowd. He gained the dark hall of the manor with no one the wiser.

  His vampire-enhanced eyesight pierced the gloom with ease. He passed closed doorways on his way to the foyer, where the stairway led up to the second floor.

  No one challenged him. His co-conspirators had cleared the way for him, and he silently mounted the marble stairs with the hand-carved polished wooden rails. Even his clothes did not rustle with movement. Vampires learned quickly how to mask all sound from their passage. All Elisha heard was the continuing drone of voices from the hall, and the very, very distant traffic that one never seemed to escape in this day and age. The twisted trail that led to Heriolf’s abode was hidden from the roads by an overgrowth of palmettos and the rampant kudzu that blanketed old pines and oaks. Most had forgotten the once popular Seward mansion even existed, and death waited for those intrepid historians who sought it out.

  Once in the second floor’s hallway, Elisha headed to the door at the end where flickering light seeped around its borders, keeping an eye on the closed doors he passed. He barely noted the archaic but still deadly weapons that served as decorations on the walls: a mace, swords, shields, a brutal double-bladed axe. Heriolf may have well carried all these arms in his Viking career before being reborn as a vampire.

  The lit room beckoned: Naya’s chamber. Elisha opened the door cautiously, ready for an attack. But no, his fellow rebels had indeed sought out and removed the vampires who guarded Naya more closely than Heriolf himself. The only thing that rushed out at him was the soft, sweet scent of young human woman. Elisha inhaled appreciatively. The living always smelled of warm vitality, and the remnants of Naya’s aroma was richer than most. It made him wonder, as they all had these past weeks, what made her so special among humans.

  It would not do to be caught hanging about outside her room, the light from it casting him in silhouette for all to see and report to Heriolf. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

  Alone in Naya’s bedchamber, Elisha looked around to get a feel for his enemy’s secret weapon.

  There was a four poster canopied bed, the wood ornately carved, the curtains sheer. A bedside table held a water pitcher and glass as well as the flickering hurricane lamp that cast dancing shadows on the light blue flowered wallpaper. There was a vanity with a mirror, the reddish-brown wood polished to a high gloss. Her hairbrush was made of ivory. A few of her blond strands wound in the bristles. There was little in the way of makeup; only two tubes of lipstick and one of mascara. Elisha found himself nodding with approval at the Font’s apparent disdain for heavy makeup.

  He went to the black walnut armoire and opened it. It was full of dresses, all long and made of light, almost gossamer fabric. It was a rainbow of pastels, all suited to flatter her fair skin and pale hair.

  Elisha went to the bed and drew back the thin veil of the curtain. A mountain of soft pillows awaited the head that rested there. Before he thought about what he was doing, he bent over and inhaled her scent.

  So fresh and electric, yet somehow subtle too. She smelled of the woods, of nature, of life. It aroused him, and for the first time Elisha wondered if Heriolf had visited the pleasure of Naya’s bed. He thought of the lovely creature lying here, her long slender body naked, her thighs parting to admit a man…

  Elisha made himself stop. He was to steal her from this place, to take her away so that Heriolf could no longer add her power to his. The woman was a means to an end, no more. Elisha vowed he would only taste her blood to verify she provided Heriolf’s strength. He had no interest in her otherwise.

  Chapter 2

  Naya listened to the dying sobs of the latest human victim, sickened to her limits. She didn’t care for the excuse that these people were the worst of society, that each and every one of them had left a wake of destruction and despair behind them. The ceremony was without conscience. She had every intention of privately insisting Heriolf not allow them to occur anymore. It was beneath him as a leader.

  Fortunately, the swearing-in portion of the ceremony had finally ended, the last new member of Heriolf’s contingent added. Keeping her eyes down so that she wouldn’t have to look at the feeding supplicant, she leaned close to her guardian. “My lord, since the formalities are concluded—”

  She didn’t have to finish. With magnanimity, Heriolf said, “Of course, my dear. Retire for tonight. I will see you tomorrow.”

  Naya didn’t have to pretend gratitude. “Thank you.”

  Just as she started to flee the room – she wouldn’t do anything so humiliating as actually run, but she knew fleeing was what she was doing nonetheless – Heriolf caught her hand. She looked into his ice-chip eyes. He gazed intently at her, seeming to seek her thoughts though she was the one person whose ruminations escaped him.

  “Good night, dear girl.” He stroked her cheek, and Naya had to suppress a shudder at his look of possessiveness. Yes, she would marry him, her guardian, her protector, her friend. But Naya could not lie. The thought of being his wife in the physical sense made her stomach twist with fear.

  “Good night, my lord.” She gave him a smile that she felt tremble on her lips.

  He released her. Naya swept out of the room, her guards following silently behind. She breathed easier and her tense shoulders sank with relief as she gained the hall.

  Lyndon’s voice rang in the room she was quickly leaving behind. “All may now join the feast in honor of this great night!”

  Screams hardly muffled by the gags stuffed in the human victims’ mouths followed Naya up the stairs. Male and female, the feast was being devoured and raped, a double indignant end to life. Naya kept her mind a careful blank, and not because anyone could read her thoughts. It was enough that she could.

  She gained her room and shut the screams as well as the silent guards out with relief. She looked around the chamber that was both sanctuary and cage.

  Not for the first time, Naya wondered what it would be like to live in the human world, among others of her own kind, far away from the vampires. To have someone she loved at her side, to go to a job, to have friends. Not that any of that would happen. She’d been among vampires and their human servants since she was five. After nineteen years she knew she wasn’t capable of making a go of it in the outside world. Heriolf had protected her, yes; but his adoration had crippled her as well. She’d been homeschooled by the adoptive parents he’d intimidated into caring for her properly, had been kept from other children, from the social mix of humans who didn’t serve the vampires. She had no job skills, no career prospects. She existed in a strange gray world that held no true peril, but offered no vibrancy either.

  Naya sighed. Without Heriolf, she was nothing. She had nowhere else to go, nothing to call her own, no one else to help her. Loneliness seemed to be her lot, but she felt she’d made peace with it.

  She went to her armoire and swung the doors open. The dress she wore, as light as a dream, came off to be hung with the others. Naya wore no underclothes. She felt best nude, unfettered by the nuisance of clothing. Only when her skin was exposed did she feel she could truly breathe. With Heriolf having already taken his taste of her blood this evening, she wouldn’t have to put anything on.

  Relaxing, she went to the vanity and brushed her hair, hearing it crackle with static. Removing the miniscule dash of makeup she wore took only seconds. Still a bit downcast but feeling so much better to be free of the celebration downstairs, Naya went to her bed. She lay on freshly laundered sheets for a few moments, not covering up. She felt safely cocooned within the sheer curtains of the bed.

  I’ll spend tomorrow in the woods. The whole day. Autumn was
in the air, releasing summer’s humid stranglehold. Naya hoped the air would be crisp. She knew the woods around Heriolf’s mansion like the back of her hand, but every day brought new discoveries nonetheless. It was the one place she felt truly home. And once out of sight of the mansion and its retinue of human servants, she would shed her clothing and be at one with the natural world, the way she felt she was meant to be.

  Naya sat up, ready to put the lamp out. Her hand reached for the curtain to draw it back, and she paused. Hadn’t there been a slight movement on the other side of the bed? She slowly looked over her shoulder.

  The handsome vampire she’d glimpsed in the hall below stood there, silently drawing the curtains back. She opened her mouth to scream.

  The next instant his face was only inches from hers, his gaze capturing her, swallowing her in their brown depths. She had a moment to think she hadn’t made the mistake of looking into a vampire’s eyes in a very long time.

  His voice was a calming purr, taking all thought from her mind, replacing her fears with a soothing ocean tide of placidity. “Silence, woman. Lie down and do not fight me.”

  Naya did as she was told, sinking onto those clean sheets with him hovering over her. His fingers gently brushed her hair from her face and throat, and his head tilted to one side. Then his face burrowed against her neck. The pain of his bite was far away and unimportant, submerged in the wave of arousal that swept over her as he began to feed. His body covered hers, and she felt his excitement, the press of unrepentant masculinity against her naked sex. Her lower body spasmed, sending a gush of warm wetness from her.

  The terrible yet wondrous need made her heart pound all the faster as he drew and drew on her. An enormous aching emptiness opened inside her, as if a black hole had burst into existence within her belly. It yawned great and ravenous, begging to be filled. For the first time, Naya wanted to know – no, needed to know the strength of a man inside her body.

  * * * *