SV02-06. Slave to a Vampire

by Katrina Kahler

  Bastian bellowed his rage to the night and the shadows closed in around him, swallowing him whole. He thrashed at the darkness, desperate to save his true love, but somewhere in his mind, he knew it was too late. Far too late.

  Her blood was sweet, a voice echoed through the shadows causing Bastian to cringe. So sweet that I kept her alive for several more months, simply so that I could feed from her whenever I wished.

  “Be quiet,” Bastian growled, covering his ears. “I’ll kill you!”

  When I’d finally broken her and she begged me for it all to end, I told her of the life I could give her, the freedom and strength. I told her what she could do if she was as strong as the man who had taken her husband from her, the voice went on. She would never be vulnerable again.

  Bastian crouched down, shutting his eyes and praying for the voice to stop, but it did not.

  I drained almost every drop from her body, and when I turned her, when she awoke as a new creature of the night, I claimed her as my own. Just as I will claim Catherine when she comes for you.

  “No!” Bastian roared, lashing out in every direction. He saw nothing, felt nothing but rage filling his body, until it consumed him and he fell exhausted to the ground. With his chest heaving as he tried to steady his anger, slowly the shadows receded and he was able to lift his head, blinking against the candlelight burning too brightly for his eyes.

  As the tent came back into view, his memories of the past few days returned to him, and Bastian shifted his wrists, wincing at the raw flesh from his struggles against the iron manacles holding his arms high above his head.

  “I thought it was time you learned the truth,” the Master said from behind him and Bastian whipped around, trying to see him. “She wanted death you see. I did her a favor.”

  “You killed her,” Bastian muttered darkly. “You took away her life!”

  “I saved her from a suicide and a life of torment,” the Master shot back with a growl, standing barely a breath from Bastian’s face. “I did what you could not. I gave her a true life.”

  Bastian’s lip lifted in a snarl. “You took away her life, you bastard! You took away mine!”

  “I saved you both from old age and disease, from death itself! I destroyed your humanity so the man you were born to be could come forth,” the Master snapped. “One day you will understand that, just as Antoinette has. Just as Catherine will.” He glanced over his shoulder towards the tent flap and frowned. “The sun is rising soon. You may feed and then you will sleep.”

  “I will do no such thing,” Bastian challenged.

  The Master pressed the palm of his hand against Bastian’s forehead and he roared in pain as the Master’s voice penetrated every darkened corner of his mind. “You will feed and you will sleep until the sun sets again, Bastian.”

  Bastian did not want to submit, but within seconds, his mind had gone blank and his eyes stared straight ahead into nothingness.

  ***

  The Master stepped back from Bastian and called for Desmond, one of his most trusted vampires, to bring in Bastian’s meal for the night. The young woman cried and fought to be free, pleading that she would not share their secret, but the vampires did not hear her. The Master nodded and Desmond grabbed the woman’s head none too gently, tilted it and offered her neck to Bastian. Lost in his hazy state of mind and forced to rely on the most basic of instincts, Bastian had no control over how brutal he became.

  Snarling viciously, he bit down hard on the woman’s neck. She screamed in pain, but Desmond held her body still, and Bastian swallowed the blood down hungrily, sucking hard until the woman’s body grew limp and her cries were cut off. As her eyes slipped closed, Desmond pried the woman loose from Bastian’s mouth, ignoring the snapping jaws close to his face, and carried the unconscious woman from the tent. She would return to her cage with the others so she could regain her strength before being used again. It had been like this since they set out from the encampment days earlier, trekking through the wild swamplands, growing ever closer to their destination.

  The Master remained in the tent until Bastian’s eyes closed and with a grunt, he fell into a deep sleep.

  “Antoinette, I feel you lurking,” he called out. “Come inside.”

  The tent flap opened and she stepped inside. “Master.”

  “Something troubles you, my dear. What is it?”

  “I only worry you weaken yourself,” she said, sliding her hands over his chest and kissing him deeply. “You cannot afford it.”

  He smiled, pressing his body hungrily against hers. “You worry for nothing.” His grip tightened, and he wound his hand upwards until he had her hair in his grasp. He then yanked her head back, fangs running sharply across her neck. “Are you certain you do not harbor fear of what I do to your husband?” he snarled.

  Antoinette did not fight against him and her arms remained on his body. “No. I have no husband, no one I care for except you,” she said calmly. “If you do not believe me then kill me and be finished with it.”

  The Master chuckled and kissed her neck instead. “No. I saved you, Antoinette, and I do not save those I plan to kill. Come, let us turn in for the day. As the sun sets this evening we will move again.”

  “You think it wise to move again? Our supply runs low,” she told him, slipping her arm around his as they exited the tent. The Master smirked to notice she did not look back once to her late husband. He’d had his doubts before letting her see Bastian again, but she had proven where her loyalties truly lay and he relished in that fact.

  When he had Catherine by his side, however, Antoinette may not prove as useful, but he would deal with that issue when the newborn vampire came to him.

  “Yes, but I wish to return to our main camp before long. We do not know when the Hunters will arrive,” he told her. “The longer we are away, the more I fear they will find us out here without protection.”

  She nodded, glancing around their makeshift camp. “The woman, she is ready to come back to you?”

  Haddie. The Master frowned as they reached their tent and he pushed the flap aside for her before securing it tightly behind him. He had several human men posted around the camp under his mind control, to guard them while they stayed out of the sun. Once they made a new camp, he would kill off these guards and find new ones whose minds were fresh enough to corrupt.

  “No, Haddie is holding out still, but I sense her sanity fraying.”’

  “Is that wise?”

  He turned with a growl of warning, but it faded when he found her, dress undone and falling from her shoulders. His snarl turned into a dark smile as he stalked towards her. “I need the power she holds within her mind,” he said, tugging Antoinette’s dress down the rest of the way until it pooled at her feet. “If we are to beat the Hunters, we will need her under my control.”

  Antoinette flashed her fangs and tilted her neck to the side. “As you say,” she whispered. “Then I will not waste the night away with needless worry.”

  “No, you will not,” he hissed and clamped his mouth down on her neck.

  Chapter 2

  Bastian’s eyes remained closed as the Master’s hold over him forced his body into a deep slumber, but his mind was wide-awake. For the first few nights in the care of the Master and Antoinette, a shock he was still reeling from, he fought to break free of the mind control placed over him. He’d been weakened from lack of blood and was ready to crumble.

  And then the Master let him feed and Bastian’s strength grew, bit by bit. Fully fed, Bastian allowed his thoughts to drift away from the camp and the manacles clamped to his wrists, away from the first woman he lost his heart to and believed dead these past one hundred years. As each new memory rose up, he pushed it aside, until only one face remained. Shimmering in his mind’s eye were the fierce eyes and alluring smile of the one he loved.

  Catherine.

  The last time he held her seemed so long ago, but when he closed his eyes he could feel her hands on his body, hold
ing him close to her even as he fought against the hold of the Master. He pushed his mind out through the camp, slowly and cautiously. He had yet to reach Catherine, but he was not going to give up. Thoughts of her were the only thing keeping him sane. Every night the Master showed him a new memory, a hellish scene he could not break free of. This was the second time he was forced to watch Antoinette kill herself. Don’t think of her. Focus, he scolded himself. Catherine…find her…

  As before, he soon was walking through the camp while the sun rose over the trees, his invisible form slipping easily past the human guards posted around the outskirts of the tents. Haddie was nearby. He sensed her fear and knew she was close to breaking. He feared getting too close to her mind and ventured farther from the camp, into the dense forest. He had no way of telling where they were or where they were headed. The Master had given no hint or indication and Bastian doubted he would be so careless, not unless he thought he’d turned Bastian.

  With each passing night, Bastian was able to move farther from the camp, but unless Catherine was within a few leagues, he was unable to push himself all the way to her as he had the first time. Though his strength was returning, he feared pushing himself too far, too fast.

  Bastian?

  Hearing his name caught him off guard and he paused in the sunlight filtering through the trees. Catherine. It sounded like her, but what if it were a trick? The Master may not be asleep and could very well be close by.

  He stretched out a hand, searching for the trail of emotion connecting him to Catherine, the deep love binding them together. She whispered his name again and he latched onto the strength of her voice, the desperation to hear him, see him again. Bastian didn’t intend to, but soon he was flying through the trees as he had done before and he abruptly appeared before her. Only this time her eyes were wide open and she stood in a familiar tent.

  “Bastian,” she said on a sigh and reached out for him, but she could not touch him.

  He smiled sadly and let his fingers trace down her cheek. Though he could not feel her skin, the pounding of her intense emotions was enough for him to feel her again. “Catherine, where are you?”

  “At the first camp,” she told him, and he noticed the tiredness around her eyes. Her whole face was tight with worry, but it was when he took in all of her that she saw him frown. “What’s wrong? Does he know you’re here?”

  “No,” he said. “Catherine, why are you armed?”

  She glanced down at her hips. “Yes Bastian, I am coming for you.”

  His lip twitched, flashing fangs as he growled. “No, you cannot. I forbid it!”

  “You forbid it? What are you going to do? Hit me over the head again,” she snarled. “I am not letting you face this monster on your own!”

  “He wants you to come after me! Don’t you understand that?” he snapped. “He is waiting for you to make that mistake so he can take you and make you his own, just as he did…just as he did…” Her name stuck on his lips and he choked over it, still trying to understand how it could have happened.

  Catherine’s face softened and she moved towards him as if to reach out and hold him. “Bastian, what is it?”

  “Antoinette,” he bit out. “He turned her after I left for the islands. He turned her and took her.”

  Catherine’s eyes widened. “She’s there with you?”

  Her flare of rage was not what made him smile, but the hint of jealousy beneath her words. “Do not worry, I want nothing to do with her. She is dead to me. This woman…this creature, she is not the Antoinette I knew. Far from it.”

  “Why is she with him?”

  “He believes he saved her,” he muttered darkly. “I watched what happened to her when I left, but Catherine that is not important. You cannot come after me, please, I beg of you.”

  Her hand rested on the dagger at her hip and the fire in her eyes glowed a deep crimson. Bastian could see that he was staring at a woman very different to the one he had left behind. Fierce pride swelled within him to see her ready to do whatever was necessary to get him back, but at the same time, he feared what would happen to her. He could not lose Catherine, would not...and knowing she was looking for a fight caused his fear to grow.

  She was in this situation because of him, because of the bastard who turned him all those years ago. But then again, if he had not been turned what would have happened instead?

  “Bastian? You’re fading,” Catherine said, moving forward. Her hands reached for him, but as before, her face fell and he knew she felt nothing. “Where are you?”

  “I don’t know,” he said quietly, strength waning. “I don’t see where we walk. They cover my head. Catherine please, do not come looking for me.”

  “I can take care of myself,” she insisted, her hands curling angrily at her sides.

  “Not against him. If you have any love for me at all, you will not come,” he implored, but she shook her head. “Catherine, my love.”

  “No! You do not get to decide this! I will find you and I will kill anyone who is in my way,” she swore. “Even if I have to kill the Master himself, I will get you back, Bastian.”

  His mind waning, he stretched out his hand and caressed her cheek again, stepping closer and lowering his mouth to hers. The brush of her lips against his, lit a fire within him and a desperate need to make her stay, but there was nothing he could do, not like this. He ran his fingers through her hair and smiled sadly down at her before he was slammed back into his own mind, far, far away from his Catherine.

  As his mind fought to remain conscious against the Master’s control, Bastian’s body sagged in the chains, hanging painfully from the pole in the center of the tent. Seeing Catherine gave him hope, but at the same time, he did not want her anywhere near the man who could so easily penetrate the minds of others, control them at a whim. The Master would take Catherine, use her, maybe even kill her if she resisted for too long. The life he pictured with her by his side fell farther and farther away and he feared what this would do to his innocent Catherine, the woman he loved. There had always been a fire inside of her, but seeing it continue to manifest, her rage pouring over him like waves of flames, told him he had only ever caught the faintest glimmer of what truly resided in her soul.

  Catherine was more than he first believed, more of a warrior, stronger, passionate, and she would come for him.

  And he feared that this would lead to her death, all for him.

  Inside his mind, Bastian raged, needing to be free, to escape this place before Catherine found them. Though he did not know where he was, he knew enough of the path taken underfoot to find his way back to the coast and the temple if need be. If he could pick up Catherine’s emotional trail again, it would bring him straight to her…

  Or lead the Master to her instead.

  The thought rushed through his mind and Bastian cursed. What if he’d already led the Master to her? Bastian was able to feel everyone else in the camp, but not the Master. What was to stop him from sensing what Bastian was doing and follow the trail all the way back to Catherine?

  Terrified, and hating himself for not considering this possibility before, Bastian bit back the rage building within him as he realized what he would have to do in order to keep Catherine safe. He could not seek her out again, not even just to see her, to know she was alive. He could do nothing, but try to find a way to escape on his own.

  “I’m so sorry, love,” he whispered to the night, and then frowned. He had not been able to speak the last time the Master had put him under for the duration of the day.

  Bastian focused on his hands, and his fingers shook with the effort to move them, but still it was a movement, a vast improvement from the past few nights. He concentrated on his eyes next, struggling to lift one eyelid to see his surroundings. If he could manage just a glimpse of something, anything, he could find a way to contact Catherine, maybe one last time before he cut off communication with her completely. Or…his mind racing with ideas, he continued the fight to open
an eye, uttering a determined snarl, until finally his right eye snapped open and he was able to quickly glance around his surroundings. If he could figure out where they were headed, he could leave a sign here, one that she would find when she reached this place.

  He noticed that the tent was the same as before, though smaller and the canvas heavier to block out the sun. It pressed in around the fabric and Bastian grunted at how it weighed on him, but he was protected well enough. Although with the flap closed, all he could see was the inside of the tent.

  He kept his eye opened, not wanting to lose the hold on this newfound freedom over the Master’s mind control, even if only for a few moments, and sucked in a deep breath, scenting the air. The tangy taste of salt told him they were still close to the coast, though he was sure they had continued to move inland. Another deep breath in and he tasted the mud of the swamps, the stench of the human captives and the men patrolling the camp. He needed something else, something specific…gunpowder. Were they already so close to St. Augustine? He needed something else to know for certain how far north they’d traveled. A new smell drew his attention and he sniffed deeper in shorter bursts, eye narrowing. The new smell was close, very close.

  Bastian glanced down, shuffling his boot as much as he could over the ground and the white flowers there. A plant was in the tent with him, small and trampled, but it was there all the same. The same plant someone had told him about a long time ago. He had tried to cultivate it on his plantation...for its strange beauty.

  “Devil’s Walkingstick,” he whispered and grinned.

  That plant only grew in the far north of La Florida, Spanish territory and very close to St. Augustine.

  Bastian kicked several of the white petals and let out a brief sigh of relief. If this plant was still blooming then not as much time had passed as he’d assumed. It was still late summer, maybe August by now. If the Master was taking them far north, they had time until winter set in and made travel even more difficult.