Blood Rage - A Paranormal Romance Novella

by Shuler, Tara

  “I have no family,” he said.

  “Oh. I’m sorry,” Esla said sincerely, pausing to reflect on what he’d said. “But it’s not safe for you here. Once they realize you’re gone, they’ll come looking for you. Leave this town, Richard. Leave, and never look back.”

  He stared at her for a brief moment, wanting to say something more. Still, he heeded her advice, and he ran away into the night.

  Esla felt proud of herself. Not only had she saved this poor creature from the miserable fate that awaited him, but she had directly defied Illyan. She smiled wickedly, hoping, in a way, that he would kill her for her defiance. She had no reason left to live.

  Chapter Four

  It was nearly two in the morning when Illyan and the others returned. Esla sat on a stool right in the middle of The Great Hall when the huge wooden door swung open. With a mischievous twinkle in her eye and a defiant grin on her face, she chuckled as she dangled the large iron key ring from one finger.

  “What have you done?” demanded Ayis.

  “It is none of your concern,” Esla mocked her, using the same phrase Illyan had slung at Ayis several hours earlier.

  “Why you wicked little…” Ayis began, starting to head toward Esla as though she would attack her.

  Illyan grabbed Ayis by the arm and said sternly, “Leave us. Now.”

  Ayis smirked at Esla, knowing Illyan would handle her insolence. She and the others headed toward their quarters, leaving Illyan and Esla alone in The Great Hall. When the last chamber door closed upstairs, Illyan turned his attention back toward Esla.

  Although Esla was fearful, she still secretly hoped he would kill her. A life without his love now seemed far worse than an eternity in darkness. For the first time since she was turned, she did not fear death. She welcomed it.

  He stared at her for what seemed like hours. In reality, it was only seconds. She showed no contrition or remorse. She showed only mocking disdain, and he was confused.

  “Why?” he asked.

  Esla said nothing. Instead, she crossed her arms defiantly in front of her and thrust her chin upward in a mocking motion.

  “Answer me,” he said sternly.

  Still, Esla remained silent.

  “Esla…,” his voice practically begged.

  She looked at him. For a moment, she felt penitent. The befuddled and worried look on his face concerned her. Just as quickly as the feeling of repentance came, it disappeared again. She was angry. She flashed a scowl at him and turned away again.

  He sighed. He could not allow this type of defiance. It would be a sign of weakness, and he could not allow that during such a critical time. Still, he needed her now more than ever. She was the only one with the gift of foresight, and he needed that to fulfill The Prophecy.

  Angrily, he grabbed her by the wrist and forced her to stand. Her eyes snapped as she glared at him, and she dared him with her eyes to kill her. In a moment of passion and rage, she lashed out at him, slapping him across the face with all the force she could muster. Her razor sharp fingernails slid through the soft skin of his cheek, drawing blood.

  He turned back to look at her, searching in her eyes for a clue to her behavior. He couldn’t understand this human emotion, and he was frantically trying to figure out the motivation for such an action.

  He twisted her arm and started to drag her down into the cellar. She did not struggle as he marched her through the cellar and down the hallway of the dungeon. Instead, she held her head high – clearly proud of what she’s done. He opened the cell in which Richard had spent the last few days and threw her to the ground, slamming the door.

  “You’ll stay here until you’re ready to tell me what happened,” he said hastily.

  Esla stood up and slammed her fists against the wooden door, glaring at him through the opening in the door.

  “Why don’t you just kill me and be done with it!” she screamed, her voice echoing down the hallway and ringing in Illyan’s ears.

  “I have no intention of doing any such thing,” he informed her.

  “Please! Just kill me! Do it!” she shrieked in a pleading voice.

  Illyan shook his head in amazement. He couldn’t understand her. He felt he would never understand her. Still shaking his head, he headed down the long hallway to leave the cellar.

  “I said kill me, damn it! Kill me! Please!” her voice followed him down the corridor and up the stairs, and it did not stop until he slammed the door behind him.

  Illyan climbed up the long stairway to his chamber and entered the room. He changed into his nightshirt and got into bed. It wasn’t quite time to sleep, but he was exhausted. Esla and her bizarre behavior had worn him out, and he fell asleep with a strange feeling that something wasn’t quite right.

  Meanwhile, Esla was curled up in a ball on the cold, hard floor of the cell. She wanted to cry and scream, but she would not give Illyan the satisfaction. She bit her lip to suppress the emotions, and wondered what he would do if she never gave in. Would he leave her down there starving? Would he finally give her the release she wanted by killing her?

  For a brief moment, she wondered what he was doing. Perhaps he was in bed. She longed to be there with him. Then she shoved the thought out of her mind, annoyed with herself for even thinking such a wretched thought. Her stomach churned as emotion raged throughout her, but still she kept it inside.

  She lied down in the musty straw, which was damp and reeking with the waste of prisoners that Ayis felt it was beneath her to clean up. She curled into a ball and shivered, trying to keep her mind clear of all thought. She simply couldn’t bear to think of him.

  Many hours later, she heard the dungeon door creak open. Footsteps echoed down the hall, and her cell door opened. Illyan looked down at her – small and pitiful on the floor.

  “Are you ready to tell me what happened?” he asked Esla.

  She glared at him through narrowed eyes.

  “Please don’t do this. Just tell me what happened,” he pleaded.

  She scooted herself around to face the back wall of the cell, refusing to even look at him.

  “Very well,” he said.

  The door snapped shut and the footsteps grew quieter and quieter until the cellar door closed with a reverberating clang.

  She was growing hungry. The last thing she’d eaten was the scrap of bread she had before she found Richard in the cell. Her stomach gnawed with a mixture of emptiness and anger.

  Ayis met Illyan at the top of the stairs. She had a look of bemused satisfaction on her face.

  “So you finally put her where she deserves to be, eh?” she said smugly.

  “Not now, Ayis,” Illyan groaned.

  “No, now is the perfect time,” Ayis argued. “I told you she would betray us to the humans. She let one of them go!”

  “I said not now!” Illyan hissed, flashing her a look that dared her to continue.

  “Fine,” Ayis snarled. “But you know it’s true. She’s still just as human as they are, and she always will be. She’s disgusting, and why you keep her around I will never know.”

  Ayis tossed her hair and turned to leave, but Illyan grabbed her elbow and twirled her around to face him.

  “I keep her around because we need her gift,” he growled, looking deep into Ayis’s eyes. “Not that I need to explain this to you yet again, but I’m growing tired of having to get into this with you over and over. We need her, and as long as she is useful, she will be here. So get used to it!”

  He shoved her away, and she almost lost her balance. She started to scream at him, but the look on his face told her she was better off letting it go for now. She skulked away to get ready, as darkness was coming and feeding time was almost at hand.

  Chapter Five

  Illyan was now determined to get rid of the human emotion in Esla. While he’d recently begun to think it might be the key to her gift, he now hoped that if he got rid of it, she would be free to use her gift unhindered by the weight of a thousand diffe
rent emotions pulling her back and forth.

  The first step was to get her to abandon the silly notion of eating human food. He left her alone in her cell for days. He did not visit her, nor did he bring her anything to eat or drink.

  Finally, on the fifth night, he brought her a gift. It was a young woman he’d captured in the village – a young, dark-skinned servant girl of about eighteen from one of the large farms. He opened the door and shoved the frightened, crying woman to the floor in front of Esla.

  “Enjoy your dinner, my dear,” he said, slamming the door behind him.

  Esla listened to his footsteps traveling down the hallway, and the cellar door closed behind him. In the darkness, she could see the terrified woman huddling in a corner. The woman shivered in the cold, and she wept.

  “Do not be afraid,” Esla said. “What is your name?”

  The woman was so afraid, she could not speak. Esla moved closer to her and placed her hand on the woman’s trembling arm. The woman recoiled in terror.

  “Please,” Esla said. “I won’t harm you. What’s your name?”

  Her voice quivering, she stammered, “M… M… Mary”

  “Hi, Mary, I’m Esla.”

  “Are you… going to kill me?” Mary asked.

  “No, Mary,” Esla replied. “I’m not going to kill you.”

  “Then… why did he tell you to… enjoy your dinner?” Mary said with a gulp.

  Esla sat down beside Mary and put her arms around her.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Esla said. “He’s trying to frighten both of us, but we’re not going to let him do that to us, are we?”

  For several days, Illyan left Mary in Esla’s cell. He checked in once each night to see if Esla was ready to talk, or if she’d given into her hunger, and each night he went away disappointed. The only thing Esla would speak would be a request for food and water for Mary, which Illyan always denied.

  Mary and Esla would talk for hours. Mary would talk about her life as a servant, and how her master would beat her and rape her. Esla was outraged that Mary had been treated so horribly. She felt herself growing close to the poor girl.

  When they grew tired, they would sleep. Esla and Mary would often cling to each other at night. The cellar was terribly cold, and Mary would shiver. Esla’s human blood still felt cold sometimes, and it was nice to have someone next to her as she slept. Sometimes she thought Mary’s scent was intoxicating, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of her fondness for the girl, or because she was growing more and more starved with each passing day.

  Finally, six nights after Mary arrived, something changed. Mary was weak from starvation and dehydration. Her breathing was labored, and her lips were cracked with dryness.

  “P… please…,” Mary begged. “I can’t… hang on. Please… kill me.”

  Esla’s heart ached. Her hunger was reaching a boiling point, and she now she could hear Mary’s weak pulse echoing through her veins. With every faint beat of her heart, Esla could hear the rush of blood through her body, and it was maddening. She’d been without food or water for nearly two weeks, and she was nearly overcome with bloodlust.

  “It… hurts…” Mary said. “Please… please do it.”

  That night, in the pitch black of the cold, damp cell, Esla took Mary into her arms and cradled her. Tears streamed down her face as she mourned for the poor woman. She stroked Mary’s face. Mary’s chest rose and fell with each weak breath.

  Esla was overcome with hunger and with empathy for Mary, and she could no longer contain herself. In an act of mercy, she bent her head to Mary’s neck and sunk her fangs deep into the dark, smooth flesh. Mary shrieked in pain, and then quickly relaxed. A flood of pure bliss washed over Esla as she filled her stomach with Mary’s warm, precious blood – thick and weak from dehydration though it was. She had never felt such an incredible sensation, and she never wanted it to stop. Esla drew more and more blood from Mary’s artery. Mary’s limp body grew weaker by the moment. When the blood no longer flowed, she let Mary’s body slump to the floor.

  Seeing her companion lying there, she suddenly felt remorse. She lifted Mary’s body and shook her gently, hoping to see some sign of life. But there was nothing. Mary’s body fell back to the floor, and Esla collapsed on top of her, sobbing and squeezing Mary with all her might.

  A few hours later, she was awakened by footsteps. Illyan peeked inside the cell, delighted to see Mary’s cold, stiff body.

  “Did you do this, or did she starve?” he asked.

  Esla refused to answer. He peered closer at the body and noticed the fang marks in the neck. That was all he needed to know. Chuckling, he opened the door to remove the body.

  “No!” Esla snapped. “Don’t you dare touch her!”

  “What? Why not?” Illyan asked, confused.

  “She’s mine!” Esla hissed.

  “She’s dead, Esla. She’s no good to anyone, anymore!”

  “Get away from her!” Esla yelled, pushing him back.

  Confused, Illyan backed off. He couldn’t understand what had gotten into her. After just a couple of weeks in confinement, she was even more befuddling than she’d ever been before. Perhaps she was going insane.

  He closed the cell door, and Esla lied back down beside Mary’s body. Illyan was now quite certain he would never figure her out. He watched her lying there beside Mary’s body for a few moments, and then he left.

  When Esla woke up a few hours later, Mary’s body was gone. She was furious. Illyan had taken Mary away while she slept. Mary was only person she’d been able to talk to, confide in, and lie down beside to sleep. Every time she’d slept next to her, she remembered the feeling of the night she’d spent in Illyan’s bed. The memory of that night was all she had left to cling to in the dark, lonely cell.

  Mary had been a poor substitute for Illyan. Lying beside her, putting her arms around her, talking to her… it was what she’d always wanted from Illyan, but had always been refused. In Mary, she found a small amount of solace. But now, she was gone.

  Although she felt rage and bitterness toward him, she still longed for him. It twisted up in a knot inside her stomach and made her sick. How could she love a man she loathed so completely?

  Later that night, Illyan visited. He had with him another young girl, this time a thin, fair-skinned girl with beautiful golden hair. He held her by the hair, and each time he tugged at it she cried out in pain.

  “I’ve brought you another gift, my dear,” he mocked. “Are you ready to talk?”

  Esla was torn. On one hand, she felt she would welcome the company of this pretty, young thing. She missed Mary, and she was growing terribly hungry again. But she also knew the fate that awaited the poor girl if she didn’t give in to Illyan. Overcome with sadness for the girl, she finally spoke.

  “Fine,” Esla said. “I will tell you what happened.”

  This wasn’t exactly the answer Illyan was looking for. He was hoping it would be a while longer before she cracked. He wanted more time to drive the last drop of vile humanity from her.

  In a last ditch effort, he ripped the girl’s top, exposing her bare breasts. Then he opened the cell door and shoved her onto the floor beside Esla. Instinctively, Esla wrapped the frightened girl in her arms. The girl began to cry.

  As she cried, her breasts moved up and down, teasing Esla. The flesh was tempting, enticing her to bite it. Esla was starving, and she found it unbearable. She lowered her mouth toward the girl’s exposed skin. Illyan watched in eager anticipation. Esla’s mouth hovered above the girl’s skin, but she stopped. She could not harm the frightened girl. She would not.

  “What is wrong with you?” screamed a very impatient Illyan. “Have you learned nothing?”

  “Let her go and I’ll tell you everything,” Esla said.

  “No!” Illyan yelled, slamming his fists against the cell door. “Take her!”

  “I will not!” Esla yelled back at him. “Send her home!”

  Trembling, the gir
l suddenly clung tightly to Esla.

  “Please don’t send me back!” the girl pleaded.

  “What? Why not?” Esla asked her, confused.

  The sobbing girl said, “My husband… he… he beats me. He locks me up sometimes, and he does horrible things to me! Please don’t send me back there!”

  Esla knew the fate that would befall the girl if she remained in The Manor. If Esla didn’t feed on her, someone else would. But how could she send her back to such a grim life at home?

  Without thinking, Esla sunk her fangs into her own wrist, drawing a mouthful of her own blood. She placed her mouth on the girl’s mouth and kissed her, allowing her blood to infiltrate her. The girl kissed back, despite the sharp, salty bite of blood she tasted on Esla’s tongue.

  “Do you know what you have done?” Illyan demanded.

  “Of course I know what I’ve done!” Esla spat back at him, blood still dripping from the corners of her mouth.

  “You know that no vampire is allowed to turn a human without permission!” he hissed.

  “Then give me permission!” Esla shouted. “Give me permission and I’ll tell you anything you want to know!”

  “Fine!” yelled Illyan. “You have permission! Now tell me what the hell you were thinking when you let that human go!”

  Esla drew the sleeve of her dress across her lips, cleaning the blood away.

  “Not here,” she said.

  She looked back at the girl who was still sitting on the floor of the cell in the darkness. She knelt beside her and took her face in her hands.

  “I will be back for you,” Esla said.

  The girl nodded in acknowledgement, and she left with Illyan. Esla followed Illyan into the courtyard where they would have some privacy. She sat down on a bench and sighed, happy to be breathing the night air again. The cell was damp and miserable, and fresh air was such a blessing.

  “Talk,” Illyan demanded.

  “I let him go because Ayis wasn’t giving him food or water,” Esla said.

  “So?” Illyan retorted. “Who cares? He was food, not a pet.”