Now I had to do what was requested of me by an unknown being who reached out to me in a dream that I don’t believe was as hallucinogenic as everyone else did. It couldn’t have been for I know it was true. If it wasn’t then how do I still remember it? Usually when I take acid, or any other kind of psychedelic, I don’t recall too many things except for the brilliantly painted visuals. So if that is factual then how is it I recall everything Domek Hadon proclaimed almost as if he stood in front of me in solid form? None of my other “drug trips” have been that way so this one had to be real. But what if it wasn’t and I was mentally diseased, or worse an addict, like everyone claimed? What if I just lost my wife because I wasn’t willing to stop my demented habit like she begged me to? I would die a million times if that were the case. Had I made an atrocious mistake that could never be erased? Oh, God… what have I done? There are so many questions that I am not entirely sure about and I fear that if I’m not already insane that I will be soon enough.
However, this might be a blessing in disguise. Yes, it certainly could be! Perhaps I can prove everyone wrong of their drastic opinions of me and make them believe that I am telling the truth about the alleged vampire. Maybe then, they will see how wrong they are and find it in their hearts to allow me back into town. Oh, my God… that is the best idea ever! So I will go look for the remains of Domek Hadon, reassemble his body from scratch, find blood for him to feast off of, reinvent his vampire existence, and show everyone in town that he is real and I’m not a brainsick fool! Oh, Benedikt Emory, you are indeed a brilliant man! Now if only I could get everyone else to view me as such… I know that I am not all here as I believe I am, God knows the drugs aren’t proving my innocence, but I will prove to everyone that I am of sound mind. I know this to be true and I will not rest until they know. But until then, I will be on a hunt for the remains of a true immortal!
Chapter III
When you have become an outcast in a land you once called home, your only option is to make the wrong things right until you can return. But who’s to say that you will be welcomed back with open arms? One can never tell, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t at least try. No, I can’t even say that with confidence. Unfortunately, I have been cast out of my home by my neighbors for reasons they believe to be factual, whereas I see them as flat out critical judgments. I mean, I know I’m a possible drug addict, but that doesn’t place me into the crazy category. Does it? Sadly, it does and, because of that, I have been branded as a mentally insane drug addict and I know that to return to my home, where I’m sure my wife has returned by now, would be quite imbecilic on my behalf. So with that being stated, I have decided to go out on my own and fend for myself while doing as Domek Hadon has requested. Yes, it is time for me to travel far and wide for the remains of my superior immortal and deem myself worthy in his eyes. It may not be easy, it may take a lifetime to complete, and it may raise my levels of being completely psychotic, but I know it is what I must do. For in this plane of existence, when a man has lost everything, he is only left with circumstances that others would label as trivial, yet he sees as the most significant as a whole. And now, as my journey continues with the hopes of finding my vampire master, who is dubbed with the moniker of Lord Heathen, I will not leave any stone unturned until I find his remains in full. Once that is completed, I will feed him properly and bring him back to the land of the living, where I pray he will embrace me into his world of vampirism. That may be wishful thinking, but still hopeful. Yes, it may take far longer than I plan, but seeing as how I have nowhere else to turn, to the time does not matter at all…
~ ~ * ~ ~
Days pass by like weeks and then to months as the sun and moon cross paths more times than is necessary. Or is it? At this time in my life, I am not exactly sure of the date, but I roughly assume it is late February or early March in 1976, as the air is still chilled, but not as badly as the beginning of early winter. That’s the feeling I usually had when my beloved Isotta and I took long walks below the maple trees in our neighborhood. Oh, how I miss my wild girl… I pray that she is safe and that the townspeople have not ridiculed her for her husband’s foolish actions. Hopefully, she stood up for me and decided to leave Hamburg, but I know deep down inside that she agreed with them all. It’s terrible that I can admit that, but as people say, the truth hurts, especially when it’s so obvious and in your face. And this particular verity was beating my face senseless. But how could I blame it? My wife had every reason in the world to leave me, I was rather maniacal with the decisions I made in life. I mean, who spends such a large portion of their life in a twisted series of drug-induced hallucinations? This man for one, but that’s beside the point of my tale. However, since that topic has been mentioned, I have found myself doing more experimental hallucinogens over the past few months as I continue my search for Domek’s severed body parts. It may not be in my best interest to do so, especially with my recent overactive use of DMT, but I know it is for the best. I mean, how else am I supposed to find a vampire in psychotic delusions if I’m not in a drugged state of mind? If anyone knows the answer to that, I’d like to hear it!
~ ~ * ~ ~
Time keeps passing by, or so it seems as I grow rather weary searching for Domek Hadon. I am exhausted beyond belief and have barely eaten a morsel in at least a week or two. I have, fortunately, been able to stay hydrated when luck strikes me and I have come upon a pond such as when I traveled to Bavaria, Saarland, and Bremen. But that is not often, or at least I’m not looking in the right locations. Oddly enough, I have even begun drinking small amounts of blood from wounded vermin so as to “keep connected” with my master in the hopes that he will embrace me into his realm once he returns. Not necessarily the sanest action to commit, but one I feel is appropriate… at least that’s what the psychedelics want me to believe and the taste isn’t too bad. All in all, the best news thus far is that I have found several potential victims for Domek to feast upon when he awakens, except I have not been able to catch them as of yet. Perhaps my luck will change once I find the remains and put them back together, whenever that might be. Hopefully, it will be sooner rather than later because the dehydrating hallucinogens are wearing me thin and I am beginning to lose hope in this mission completely. “Oh, fortunate and humble lord above or below… please spare my life and sanity and show me the way towards my new master!” And I swear as soon as I said that, or perhaps I believed it to be so, I found a dank cave in Lower Saxony that I had never noticed before, even though I had been to the area numerous times beforehand. “My God… that’s where you are!” I shrieked joyously and literally skipped into the cave with the hopes of bringing back Domek, if he was there at all, that is.
~ ~ * ~ ~
Hours later, I find myself crawling towards the darkest part of the cave, as instructed by Domek in my delusional state several times before, and begin clawing at massive amounts of dirt and clay where my lord is supposedly buried. The heinous odor inside the deepest part of the cave is enough to make me choke on my own vomit, large chunks rising rapidly in my throat, but I know I must ignore the stomach churning feeling and proceed with digging. It is all a grueling and torturous task to endure, certainly one I will never forget. Luckily, the more I throw particles of soil around for what seems like far too long, I find myself touching what feels like a fragment of bone. “Is that you, Domek Hadon, or another of similar qualities?” I jokingly say aloud as I begin tapping on the odd matter repeatedly and sure enough it is indeed bone that I am touching and what I hope is part of Domek’s body. How unfortunate it would be if I found someone or something else! Alas, the deeper I dig, the more I find pieces of a skeleton with what looks like a gaudy ring placed upon the right hand as foretold to me by Domek. I couldn’t help but gasp with intrigue as I carefully removed the skeletal remains from the tainted earth and began placing them together like a bewildering puzzle that I fear cannot be solved. My mind is frazzled instantly for, unlike most puzzles I arranged as a child, this one did
not come with a picture as reference. “You just had to make this harder for me, didn’t you, Domek?” And yet again after what seemed like hours upon hours or quite possibly days, I finally completed the full skeleton. My hands are torn with bruises and small cuts, but I know it will all be worthwhile once I am blessed with the gift of immortality. With that thought running around in my head, I am now ready to bring him “back to life.” But how exactly am I going to do that when there is not a drop of blood anywhere nearby? “What am I to do now, my lord?” I howled and as if from literally beyond the grave, I heard a familiar voice…
“Bring me the woman they call Isotta and let me drain her of her blood…With hair as auburn as can be and lips as pink as the petal, a true beauty in all forms… Only she can bring me back to the realm of human attachments. And if you can accomplish that successfully, I will bless you with the gift I possess.” Domek spoke in my brain almost as if he were in that cave with me in spirit.
“No… you cannot possibly mean my beloved bride. Can you? She is all I have left in this world. Anybody but her, master…I can bring you the blood of twenty virgins, but not my wife, anybody else, but not Isotta… I’ll sacrifice myself wholeheartedly before I give Isotta’s blood to you!” I wept and continued to beg Domek to choose another to feed off of, but he already had his mind made up.
“Perhaps at a later time, but not the present… you will be mine when the time is right.” He breathed heavily, all the while appearing as a phantom voice rather than an actual body. “Nevertheless, until that instance arrives, I crave the blood of Isotta Emory and shall wreak havoc on you if I do not get what I want!” Domek screeched and I do not know how this was possible, threw me across the cave violently to where I cut my back viciously upon the jagged walls. I wailed in gut-wrenching agony and began yelling at Domek with intense fury in my tone.
“There – are you happy? I am bleeding, you can take me instead!” I screamed, splashing my own blood onto the walls with the hopes that Domek would see it all as enough to tide over his insatiable bloodlust. “Drink it, my lord, drink! It is enough to bring you back, isn’t it? Or are you a selfish bastard and want more from me? Is that what it is? Have I not done enough?” I squalled in a hostile tone as I continued to spray my blood all around. Unfortunately, I had to stop within a minute or two for I was becoming rather weak and eventually dropped to my knees. “What more do you want, master?”
“I want her! She is the only one that can reanimate me… bring her to me posthaste or suffer the consequences of what I could do to you! I shall heal you for the time being until you bring me what I desire, but you will be punished until then as a reminder.” Suddenly, I felt the sensation of my heart being crushed by someone’s hand as I looked all around and sensed that Domek was closer than I believed and not just in the realm of lost souls. He had kept his promise and telepathically healed my wounds, yet it was not enough to make me feel whole again. And once he repeated himself with phrases I cared not to hear, I followed his orders like a mindless drone and departed on the next train towards Hamburg with the feelings of weakness from the blood I lost…
~ ~ * ~ ~
Days later, on a locomotive of a rather large size, I found myself near my homeland and sadly found my darling bride at the local market, still looking as radiant as ever. As soon as I was able to regain my strength to the best of my ability, I approached her with fear in my heart. “My God… Benedikt, is that you?” she whispered, looking around to make sure nobody saw us together as I nodded my head. “Where… where have you been, mein Liebster? I have been so worried, it’s been many months since I’ve seen you! Where…”
I immediately cut her list of inquiries in half and whispered to her in frightened tones. “There is not enough time for that, my darling…” I clutched onto her dainty body, held it tightly close to mine, and continued speaking. “I need you to come with me now. Would you be willing to come with me for reasons… reasons I cannot explain to you now?” She nodded with a smidgen of horror painted across her face, but knew I had no intention of ever hurting her. Or at least that’s what I wanted her to believe. I was a horrible husband on so many levels and this most recent one was no exception as I took my innocent bride and boarded a train back to Lower Saxony to perform a slaughter of unimaginable proportions.
~ ~ * ~ ~
Yet again, days later, we arrived at our appointed destination and traveled several miles towards the cave where Domek’s bones laid. I was completely heartbroken at what was to occur next, yet I found some comfort in the situation as I prayed Domek would be kind and embrace Isotta into immortality as well. At least I hoped he would, but as we entered the cave, I sensed an emotion of rage coming from my lord and knew that he would not approve of what I prayed for.
“I see you have come back to me, Benedikt, and with the prize I so eagerly requested…” Domek sighed seductively as Isotta looked all around to figure out where his voice was coming from. I sadly nodded my head at what he uttered and, without warning, Domek telepathically forced me to slice into my dearest wife’s throat with a nearby jagged rock and drip her blood onto his skeletal remains. “More… more… more, I say! Give me more blood!” Domek hissed and just as quickly as Isotta’s blood began “quenching his thirst” almost to the last drop, Domek’s fragile remains miraculously sprang to life and began regenerating flesh and muscle tissue from his head to his toes. Unfortunately, my wife was his first victim and he didn’t seem to care, but I still did!
“I have done what you demanded of me, you heartless bastard! Now you keep up your end of the deal and turn me so that I may have a chance of saving her before she takes her last breath… you owe me that much and you promised as well!” I hollered quite angrily, but as much as I hoped Domek would consider my offer, he spoke of other plans that were not so inviting.
“Oh, you simple mortal…” He chuckled under his breath. “Have you not learned by now not to trust an immortal?” And before I could object to anything he said, his newly reformed body lunged towards me with fangs bared and fed from me in the most putrid way possible. My blood gushed throughout Domek’s body rapidly and I sensed he was not done with my blood alone. He soon dropped my nearly lifeless form next to my wife’s and I dreaded his last words were not ones of kindness, as I never heard from him again thereafter. “Thank you for everything, Benedikt Emory. I shall now take your delicious blood and carry it with me on my future path of eternal destruction…”
About The Author
BellaDonna Drakul is an international horror novelist and vampirologist from Tulsa, Oklahoma. Dubbed as "the next Anne Rice," BellaDonna is an active member of the horror community, with such famous fans as Stephen King; Sid Haig (Captain Spaulding from "House Of 1,000 Corpses"); Courtney Gaines (Malachi from "Children Of The Corn"); Lucky McKee (director of "May"); and James O' Barr (creator of "The Crow"), and is currently working on her sixth and newest novel, A Stroke Of Death. Her five book vampire series, The Drakul Diaries include:
The Vampire Collection: Short Stories for the Vampire Enthusiast
The Immortal Memoirs
The Kindred Confessions
The Undead Journals
Chronicles of the Ancients
http://www.facebook.com/BellaDonna.Drakul
DARK HEARTS
By
Sherri Jordan-Asble
The massive castle stretched up into the darkening sky, casting shadows through the surrounding forest. Inside, a dark silence settled over everything. Penelope noticed this strange stillness as she woke for the night. Her vampire senses reached up the shadowy flight of stairs before her actual body. The senses told her the kitchen above stood empty.
The stairs creaked as she walked up them and pushed the old wooden door aside. The old-fashioned kitchen gave her a cold welcome with its stone floors and granite countertops. The chandelier loomed overhead, unlit. Her skirts danced across the floor as she entered the kitchen on bare feet, not feeling the cold of the stone, only roughness. Her b
odice was cinched tight and her hair fell to her shoulders in ringlets, always perfect as it had been since the moment she had been turned. Her servant, James, had told her she looked like a doll. Where was he?
“James!” she cried out. The man was completely devoted to her. “James, where’s my breakfast?” How unlike him to forget.
The metallic scent of blood wafted through the kitchen. James? She looked up to see a figure standing in the opposite doorway. Cameron stepped into the light that was cast by the moon through the window. His riding boots led to leather pants and a loose shirt, unbuttoned at the collar. Her brother’s dark hair against his pale face was set in an eternal contrast. Penelope swallowed hard. Cameron’s looks also reflected his dark heart. She wanted nothing to do with him, yet she could smell blood and see it dripping from his chin, and her call for her servant went unanswered. She did not want to admit it, but Cameron would shove it in her face, wouldn’t he?
“How did you get here? What did you do with James? You bastard!”
Cameron laughed and stepped closer. He had blood on his hands and smeared down his shirt. “I’ve come for you, sister.”
Penelope grabbed a knife from the counter beside her and held it, pointed it at Cameron, and lunged toward him. He dodged out of the way and grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward him.
Vampires Romance to Rippers an Anthology of Tasty Stories Page 8
