Sacred Circle

by Claire Thompson

  The taste of her blood was indescribable. It was, quite simply, the most lovely and perfect thing to ever have passed his lips. Nothing before or since could compare, though he had traveled the world many times over in search of that elixir.

  But for that moment, he drank his fill, sucking at her wrist like a starving babe while she held him in the velvet embrace of her sex, rocking and soothing him. Julian felt himself changing there in her arms. If it was bizarre to be sucking the blood from a lover, the lover who had just pierced his throat and stolen his life’s blood, then so be it.

  Nothing had ever felt more right, and Julian actually cried when Adrienne finally pulled away from him, denying him another suckle—oh, just one more kiss! Sleep now, my love, she whispered, still not moving her lips. He heard her plainly and answered, “Yes,” before falling into a dreamless, fevered sleep that would last for three days.

  * * * * *

  When he awoke, his family had been hovering anxiously about him, but La Comtesse Adrienne had vanished. Julian’s first words upon awakening were for her. He felt a slow pulse of need, as if she had replaced his very blood with her own essence. When he was finally coherent enough to ask for her, Andre told him she had left two days before, on some urgent business.

  Julian was bereft, inconsolable. It was beyond mere passion, beyond first love. Without understanding why, he craved her as a submissive dog longs for its master. He fingered the two little marks at his neck, now almost healed. He remembered the sweet taste of her blood. Of her blood! Ah, for some blood. Instinctively he knew that only human blood would do. The soul is lodged in the blood—these words came unbidden into his mind. Blood—the source of life. He knew that his own life now depended on the blood of the living. What was he to do with this knowledge? What had she done to him?

  Julian sensed that he mustn’t share these peculiar thoughts of bloodlust with his family. Instead, he focused on the woman, demanding from his father where she had gone, and how to contact her. His father was at first indulgent, assuming his oldest son was suffering from puppy love, but grew angry when Julian refused to let the matter drop. “That fever has addled your mind, boy! I admit, she’s a lovely woman, but be realistic! Why would she, a countess of wealth and power, stoop to an affair with a country boy?”

  Julian bit back his retort. He desperately wanted to confess that not only had she stooped, but she’d conquered, and now she was all he could think of. Julian realized he would have no allies among his father’s household in his efforts to find Adrienne and somehow win her back. He vowed to himself that he would find her. Against his father’s wishes, he packed his things, embarking on a journey that would take him all over the world a dozen times or more.

  Chapter Two

  She had left him a letter, which he still kept in his possession. He had had it recopied and then laminated, as the original paper had disintegrated. He recalled the words now, which had long ago been committed to his heart.

  23 May 1712

  My Dearest Julian,

  I have committed a crime, and I will pay for that crime. Yet, I am not sorry, even now, as I flee from you, and from the Elders of my Circle, who will surely kill me when they find what I have done. Julian, though you now only have a glimmer of what it means, I am a vampire.

  I know you cannot possibly understand what has happened to you, but in a moment of weakness, I have taken your pathetic human existence, and bestowed upon you a vampire’s life. We vampires are not immortals, as your folklore may have persuaded you. But we do have the gift of extended life, greatly extended. I myself have seen many decades and hope to see many more. Your father and his entire entourage will become nothing but a dim memory of a time that once was. But you, my love, you will continue—I have given you the gift of the sacred kin!

  Yet, what I have done is a crime. It was truly a crime of passion, my love. It was as if I were possessed. It was not merely your perfect young body, far from it. I have had my fill of beautiful young men, I can assure you. But there is something different about you, my Julian. Something special. I sensed the mark of greatness upon you, and I was overcome with longing.

  Your spirit is so strong and beautiful! Oh, to think I shall never see you again! Because I must not. They will be tracking you now, in hopes of finding me. They most likely already know what I have done, as we in my Circle are psychically linked.

  You now have the power. I have turned you, Julian. It is forbidden to turn a human into a vampire, without consent from the Elders, and without a clear understanding on the part of the human involved as to what will occur. This turning is rare now. Indeed many vampires, unlike myself, tend to keep their distance from humans, only coming out at night to take the weak. I never fully understood this hesitation before now, for I never felt the overwhelming temptation to turn a human as I did with you. I didn’t prepare you. You had no warning and no say in the matter.

  It was my own weakness, which led me astray. I could have killed you, my love. I should have. There are no vampiric laws against killing humans. You are such fragile beings, and so easily disposed of. There are so many of you, what is one more or less?

  Yet, I dislike the casual killing of humans. I have become very fond of some. Your father was among them, though now I must never visit him again. Other vampires call me sentimental, and I suppose I am. They will slake their blood-thirst by sucking out the life of a human, then tossing its husk aside with barely a thought.

  And yet, we are forbidden to “create”. Only the Elders decide, and this code is inviolate. Hence, I must flee, my love. We shared but one night. I hadn’t meant to turn you. I only planned to make love to that perfect body.

  You can perhaps blame yourself, my love, for it was your perfection that turned a woman’s heart, and cost her her judgment and now her freedom. I am doomed, from that one kiss, to spend the rest of my days hiding, in secret, never again to see those of my Circle. An outcast.

  I know I shall come to regret it, but for now, with the sweet taste of your blood still on my lips, and the lovely, ragged pain of the cut at my wrist, I regret nothing. Perhaps one day things will change, and we will be reunited. But for now, my young lover, my Julian, we must part.

  The Elders will find you when it is time, and you will learn all you need to know. Though rigid in their edicts, they are also fair, and they will not leave you to wander the earth without guidance or understanding.

  I must fly, as the hour when the dawn turns the mountains golden is at hand.

  Take care!

  Forgive me. Adrienne

  Julian sighed a little as he recalled her words, written so long ago yet still with the power to wrench his heart. The pulsing rhythms of the modern music around him brought him back to the present day. He was standing very still against a wall in the crowded ballroom. Normal humans wouldn’t notice him there unless he moved. He had the vampire’s art of becoming almost invisible at will, blending into the shadows like a half-forgotten dream.

  Silently, he surveyed the room, searching with his psychic powers for the presence he had felt a moment before. Perhaps he had imagined it. It was rare to encounter another of his kind these days, especially in this country. Though, if he were going to, it would probably be here in New Orleans. He felt lonely for a moment, something he rarely allowed himself the luxury of feeling. For what was the point?

  He liked humans but they aged so quickly. He rarely became attached, as he hated to watch them wither and die, while he himself barely seemed to change from year to year, century to century.

  The first hundred years or so after he had been turned had been exciting. Instead of hating Adrienne for what she had done, he had been thrilled. To be forever young! His strength, already formidable as a mere human, had increased fourfold at least. His powers of perception, of sight, sound and smell were heightened, giving him the advantage over mere mortals.

  The Elders did find him. Two stately men contacted him. He came to know them as Gustav and Augustine. They sent a
message, inviting him to a local tavern. Unlike Adrienne, still full of vitality and bursting with sensuality, these two men were staid. Their skin still had the luminous quality he would come to associate with his own kind, but it was thin, almost papery. It was clear they were very old and yet, their faces were smooth, their eyes keen. That was what had confused him, he realized. He’d been expecting the sagging, wrinkled skin of someone ancient. Vampires, he came to learn, aged differently.

  “Adrienne has committed a crime,” Gustav told him solemnly. “When we find her, she will die.” Gustav went on to outline the nature of her crime, and why she must pay with her life. Julian had tried to focus on their words, but that threat was all he could hear. His beloved Adrienne, who had given him this new life, was to die.

  “It is not your fault that you’ve been turned,” Augustine said. “We will take you into our Circle and teach you our ways. Though it was without your consent or understanding, you are now one of us. One of the true kin. We are a solitary people, but the Dark Circle, our coven, will always be there for you now.”

  Julian spent many days with these Elders, learning secrets shared only among their kind. When they parted, Julian had a large leather pouch filled with gold sovereigns and precious jewels. He was also given papers that would gain him access to the larger European banks, and an account that would satisfy his needs as long as he roamed the world. “One thing we have is time,” Gustav had explained. “We have investments that date back centuries. Our combined wealth is unparalleled in the human world. Even we vampires need homes, lodging, clothing. As you are now part of our Circle, you will never want, at least financially.”

  Finally, Julian parted from the Elders, beginning his quest for his first love. The Elders had tried to advise him on the safest ways to use humans without undue harm. Their interest was less in sparing human lives, which neither of them seemed to hold in very high regard, but more in how to avoid drawing attention to oneself. It wouldn’t do to have people suddenly dying from loss of blood whenever you appeared in town. It was admittedly difficult to avoid. Humans were, after all, such fragile beings. Thus, they advised him never to stay anywhere too long as eventually suspicions would invariably turn toward him.

  The memory of his first killing was still fresh even now, almost three hundred years later. It would be some time before he learned to quench his thirst without taking a human life. Each time he did, he swore it would be the last. But the bloodlust came upon him like a fever. During those times, his finer senses were forgotten as he focused on his next victim.

  It was dusk, and Julian had only ridden a few hundred leagues from his father’s lands. A farmer was cutting his grain when Julian came upon him. He’d accidentally cut himself rather badly with his scythe and was sitting in the middle of the field, holding his shoulder.

  Julian, riding on the path nearby first smelled the blood, his senses pricking up sharply at the pungent glorious scent. Veering his horse to track it, he came upon the hapless man, bright red blood spurting between his fingers. The man’s face was gray with pain.

  Leaping from his steed, Julian knelt to help him. Though he’d never been attracted to another man before, Julian was no longer the man he had been. The smell of blood filled his nostrils like something tangible. He breathed it, sighing deeply, and his penis engorged and distended of its own accord.

  It wasn’t the man himself that aroused Julian, but the promise of blood, beckoning like a lover. At first, he tried to help the man, tearing a piece of his own clothing to staunch the flow. Tying off the cloth tourniquet, he saw that the bleeding was actually slowing. Blood had soaked the man’s pants and the ground beside him. It became clear that the cut was too deep and the man was dying.

  Abandoning any efforts to save him, Julian instead seized his chance. He must drink before life fled. The Elders had taught him that the human prey must be alive for the blood to quench his vampire’s thirst. Sitting down on the hard dirt, Julian took the poor farmer onto his lap, cradling him like a child. He was insensible now and made no protest.

  The white linen that tied off the wound was red-soaked, but Julian wasn’t interested in the wound itself. He wanted the throat, he realized. The delicate jugular. Leaning down, he bit, piercing the flesh, which yielded like butter to his kiss. He felt the blood fill him like liquid fire. It gushed against his teeth, filling his mouth so that he had to swallow quickly to keep from choking. Later he would learn to moderate the flow, making the kiss last for hours at a time if so desired.

  But now, he sucked greedily, feeling his sexual lust rise as his blood-thirst was slaked. When at last Julian released the man, he fell back lifeless, his pulse gone, his eyes open to the darkening sky.

  Julian pushed the dead man from his lap. After closing the unseeing eyes, Julian stripped, balling his bloodied clothing and stuffing it into a saddlebag before retrieving new. He mounted his patiently waiting horse and went in search of a wench to satisfy his other hunger.

  Her name was Vivien. A sweet little lass, though not innocent in ways of the flesh. When he’d arrived at the nearest town, he found an inn that could lodge his horse and give him a room for the night. When the serving girl came to his door with fresh bedding, Julian eyed her soft bosom. Her cleavage was deep above the simple cotton gown she wore. Unlike the noblewomen and landed gentry, peasants couldn’t afford the fancy corsets and bodices that would hide and restrain a woman’s natural offering.

  Julian, still fiercely aroused from his first human blood, felt the fire burning in his veins. He leaned down, boldly drawing his finger across one supple breast. “Well, sir!” Vivien said, feigning horrified surprise. In fact, Julian, handsome even before the change, was subtly altered by Adrienne’s gift.

  His large dark eyes now sparkled with a fire that made whatever woman he chose sigh and open herself to him without reservation. His dark shiny hair curled seductively over his fine, high forehead and around the back of his strong neck. His mouth had a new sensuality, a hint of cruelty blended into a smile that had lost its innocence when he lost his human life.

  Bending toward her, he whispered, “Tell me your name, pretty girl.”

  “Vivien,” she whispered breathlessly. Reaching around her small waist, Julian drew her into the room.

  “Please, sir,” she had protested weakly, “I must go. My father is waiting.”

  “No, you will stay. I will explain to your father that you are detained.” He dropped his mouth to hers, kissing her with a passion fueled by the powerful bloodlust still coursing through his veins.

  Again she tried to protest, but her words were muffled by his mouth on hers. Not realizing his own newly made strength, his attempt to open her gown resulted in his tearing it from her body. Vivien was completely naked underneath. She screamed, trying to pull away from him.

  He could feel her heart beating against him as he held her warm naked body to him. Covering her mouth with his hand, he whispered in her ear, “Quiet, quiet, silly girl. I must have you. You are so lovely. Don’t worry, I’ll replace the dress with three new ones. Don’t resist me. Hush.” He pulled her head back so that he could see her face. She turned her frightened eyes toward his, her mouth still covered by his strong hand.

  All at once she relaxed, her eyes still locked on his. It was his first brush with the knowledge of his power over humans. He could control them with his eyes and bend them to his will.

  More slowly came the psychic powers, the ability to enter another’s mind. At first, he could only distinguish feelings—the fear, the rage, the desire of those he “chose”. But slowly, with much concentration, he learned to untangle the jumble of psychic chatter and random emotion, distinguishing thoughts and learning to separate them from feelings.

  With Vivien, he was still new and untested. He could sense her fear mingled with a rising desire. Effortlessly he lifted her, dropping her onto the large feather bed in the middle of the room. Her ample breasts were heaving and her mouth gaped open as she tried to draw a
shuddering breath.

  Julian dropped his hands to her legs, forcing them apart. He pressed a finger into her entrance, feeling it slick and wet, despite her fear or perhaps partially because of it. He sensed her arousal. She wanted to be taken—to be raped!

  Julian’s lust was fueled by the fact that he was taking her by force. A gentle man before the change, he found himself emboldened by his lust. With a primal growl, he pulled his own shirt from his strongly muscled torso. Unbuttoning his leather breeches, he kicked off his boots at the same time.

  Vivien’s eyes dropped to his erection, rock-hard and perpendicular to his flat stomach. “Do you want it, wench?” he demanded, his voice husky with lust. “Do you want this big, strong man to take his pleasure, to use you like a common whore?” He didn’t wait for her answer, didn’t care what she had to say. The words incited him further, as he hoisted himself over her.

  No tender kisses, no murmured sweetness. Guiding his large cock with his hand, he found her entrance, still wet but tight, and pressed into her. Vivien squealed, trying to close her legs. “I’m going to take you, wench, so you can either lie back and enjoy it or suffer. It makes no difference to me.”

  In fact, it did make a difference. He realized as he spoke that it was her fear, more than her desire or her beauty that excited him. Her squeals of terror and pain as he forced his cock into her made him as hard as iron. “Take it!” he cried, as he thrust himself deep inside of her. He felt his own power like a drug. He would travel the world, taking what he wanted, feeding his own bloodlust and his sexual appetites. Vivien was the first of many who would fall prey to his passions.