Black Hellebore

by Maya Shepherd

  “Oh you know who I am, what an honour,” Tru taunts him as she easily dodges his attempt to attack her.

  “I can smell the vampire in you. You’re an abomination” he tries to hurt her feelings as he is unable to administer any physical pain.

  The wooden stake in Tru’s hand flies past the vampire’s ear, making him cheer for joy, but his joy is short-lived, as Tru takes the silver stake in her left hand and rams it deep into his thigh, while simultaneously head-butting him. He lets out an animal howl.

  “How’s Orlando?”

  The vampire looks at her in irritation, and momentarily forgets about the pain.

  “Orlando? What do you want with him?”

  Tru uses the distraction to stab the wooden stake into the vampire’s shoulder, pinning him once again to the wood behind him. He gasps for air like a fish on land.

  “Alright, alright! Orlando is counting his last hours on Earth. They have sentenced him to the sun because of the girl.”

  “What did he do with the girl?”

  “He changed her without permission, making her blood poisonous, and the queen is lying in her death bed.”

  Now it’s Tru who is looking puzzled at the vampire. It would be new to her for a human’s blood to become poisonous because they have been turned without permission. Why did that witch Chasity want to drink her blood anyway, if Lia had already been turned into a vampire? Or did she not know? Tru gets a hard blow to the left shoulder which forces her to her knees. The pinned vampire sees his opportunity and knees her in the stomach, while his partner pulls Tru back by her hair. Since when do vampires go hunting in pairs? As well-dressed and pristine as the suit-wearing vampire is, the opposite can be said for the company he keeps. Rotting yellow teeth flash in front of her eyes while his long greasy hair tickles her nose. His breath is insufferable.

  “That’s just too bad.” He smiles as he pulls harder on her hair, giving Tru no other option than to follow and expose her throat to him.

  “I want to go first!” the suit-wearing vampire says, but his wishes fall on deaf ears, as the revolting vampire possessively tears her even closer to him. A wooden stake flies through the air, grazing the newcomer’s ear. Taken aback, his gaze fixes on the large bins.

  “That’s just too bad.” Lindsay says with more courage than sanity.

  “Ah, that explains the delicious smell. Monstrosities like this rarely smell or taste any good.” The filthy vampire says, while casually touching a finger to his wounded ear, and then licking the blood with a sneer.

  Lindsay reloads the crossbow while Mike just stands feebly behind her, holding a wooden spear.

  “Let her go or we’ll shoot again.” He challenges the vampires. The dapper one finally manages to get himself free again, a satisfied smile forming on his face.

  “This is going to be a veritable feast!”

  Lindsay’s stake hits the wooden facade. In the time it takes her to reload the weapon, the wretch is standing right in front of her. With a single swipe of his hand, the crossbow is flying through the air and hits the wall, shattering into several pieces. Tru takes the opportunity to go for the dapper vampire, but this time he is ready for her and dodges her attack. Mike stands himself protectively between Lindsay and the wretch. As the vampire goes to grab him, Mike pushes back surpisingly hard, but still the vampire manages to take the spear from him, throwing it against the wall like he did the crossbow. With that, he pushes Mike hard, making him stumble backwards and hitting his head against the wall behind him. A few short seconds are enough for the vampire to go for the unprotected Lindsay. She ducks, but he manages to grab her from behind by her hips. Lindsay kicks and screams with all her might. She twists and wriggles her body, determined not to give the vampire the opportunity to bite any exposed skin. It actually proves difficult for the vampire to get a grip on her. His tongue eagerly moves inside open mouth, as he struggles with his prey. Again and again he snaps at Lindsay’s skin, without success. He is so engrossed in her deliciously sweet, candy floss-like smell that he doesn’t expect another attack, leaving him all the more surprised when the wooden spear pierces his torso. His face is a study in disbelief and surprise before all that remains of him is a pile of ash, dirt and lumps of flesh. Lindsay moves her gaze away from the pile of remains towards Mike’s terror-struck face.

  “Are you ok?” he asks worriedly. Lindsay can only nod.

  “Good work!” Tru says as she walks towards them pleased with herself. There is a similar pile of ash behind her in which some remains of the pinstripe suit are visible.

  “It’s a shame our conversation was so rudely interrupted. I bet I could have got much more interesting stuff out of him.”

  “Do you think it’s true that this Orlando guy turned Lia into a vampire?” Lindsay asks unsettled by it all.

  “He spoke of a girl, but that doesn’t mean it has to be Lia.”

  “But that would explain her disappearance.”

  “And where is she then?” Mike asks now, rubbing the back of his head. His hands are red.

  “You’re bleeding!” Lindsay yells out in a panicked voice. Tru stares blankly at Mike’s finger. There is a twinkling in her eyes that doesn’t go unnoticed by Mike.

  “I’m warning you, stay the hell away from me.” He yells hysterically. The light in her eyes recedes and she looks at him cooly. She hands him a bandage from her jacket pocket.

  “Here, somehow I knew that we wouldn’t get out of this situation without some kind of injury. Funnily enough, I somehow knew it was going to be you.”

  Embarassed, Mike stares at the ground and murmers; “Thanks!”

  - 23. Orlando Moundrell -

  The wounds which Orlando sustained in his capture and subsequent struggle for freedom have healed. They already had the same night they were inflicted. But they have left scars on the inside. Every night he is tortured by his thoughts, and every day he can’t sleep out of worry. Not even the thought of his imminent death sentence can distract him from his singular question; is she still alive?

  1475 AD, England: Her breathing was heavy and she was suffering from a hellish fever. The people had already started talking, saying it must be syphilis because she was a whore.

  Orlando dabbed his mother’s forehead with a damp cloth. Maybe she really was a prostitute, but even if that were the case, it wouldn’t have been out of free will, but rather because she had no other choice. At the age of fifteen, a rich lord had impregnated her, and then promptly left her. He couldn’t have cared less about the bastard child or his poor useless mother.

  After the child was born, she was left alone with him, with no family or friends to speak of and was barely able to feed herself; let alone another hungry mouth. She didn’t want to put him into an orphanage either, and so she had no choice but to work nights while her son slept.

  It had started with hives, and then she was struck by a flu of sorts, and then the ulcers started appearing. After a while it got so bad that she couldn’t walk because the pain in her joints had become so unbearable.

  Orlando knew that she didn’t have much time left. For days he kneeled before her and begged her to reveal the name of the man who had conceived him. A lord would after all be able to give them the spare change out of his pockets to pay for a doctor for his mother. He owed her, as well as Orlando this small kindness.

  “I beg of you, tell me his name. Only he can help us now.”

  She swung open her watering eyes and stiffened her lips.

  “We don’t need any charity.”

  “It is his duty. Give me his name!”

  She stubbornly shook her head, making her blonde hair stick to her sweat-covered face.

  “You are getting worse every day mother. If you don’t tell me his name now, then you will soon not have another chance to do so.”

  His words were harsh, but he hoped to finally get through to her. Her face was full of hesitation.

  “We loved each other once, but money changed him. I was no lon
ger enough for him. He is not a nice person Orlando.”

  “I don’t care about that; his money will be enough for us.”

  “Your father is the lord of Warwick, Richard Moundrell.”

  He tore his eyes open in disbelief. His father was the richest man in England and yet he and his mother lived in the poorest area in the land. They had to count every single penny and his mother even had to sell her body to make ends meet. He swore to himself that he would personally break this man’s neck if he dared to refuse money for his mother’s medical care. She was everything he had ever held dear.

  He pressed the last of their savings into his neighbour’s hand, just asking that she would go and feed his mother every day and make sure that she drank enough. She was a good woman, a mother of ten, and always felt compassion towards him. She knew about women’s needs, and so she would take good care of his mother. Orlando was certain of this.

  Even though Bidford was not that far from Warwick, the trek was still quite arduous. The fallen snow had caused the tide in the Avon harbour to rise, and transformed the path into a quagmire. The river was lightly frozen, but the ice cracked under anyone trying to cross.

  Orlando avoided the roads, as he knew very well that thieves made their living there. It wasn’t as though he had anything they could have stolen, but they would take his worthless life in a heartbeat if they thought he was hiding anything.

  He spent the first night out in the open. In fear of both robbers and wild animals, he climbed a tree and tied himself to one of the thicker branches. Every time his eyes closed, he was jolted awake by any little sound. When morning finally came, he had hardly slept a wink. He continued on his journey, exhausted from the sleepless night.

  He arrived at Warwick castle in the late afternoon with a rumbling stomach and tired feet. To his dismay, he found out about the untimely death of his biological father Richard Moundrell at the front gate. A large black flag swayed in the wind, marking his death. The estate had been inherited by his younger brother John Moundrell.

  Orlando could only hope that his uncle would take responsibility for his brother’s neglect. But he couldn’t just walk into the castle and speak with the lord of the manor any time he wanted. He had to make an official appointment, and the next one was five days away. His begging and pleading proved useless, but he knew he couldn’t possible survive five days with no food, so he got a job in a tannery. The master was always looking for strong men who would be willing to skin animals for him, but he wanted to shoot the animals himself, which was not a problem for Orlando. The work was very bloody and after a few hours, his clothes were stained with blood, the red liquid even running out of his hair. His face was splattered with the stuff and his body stank of rotting flesh. The pieces of meat that didn’t go to the butchers were divided amongst the workers. They all slept together in the barn with the animals, lighting a fire in front of it in the evenings.

  The days flew by. Orlando worked hard and he would quickly fall into a dreamless slumber every night. On the fifth day, he scrubbed himself by a fountain so all the blood was washed from his body, but his clothes remained dirty and foul smelling. He was ashamed to have to step in front of the lord like this, but maybe his poverty would tug at his uncle’s heart strings.

  The inside of the castle was huge and beautiful. The walls were bare and the icy wind whistled through them. The soldiers standing guard had scowling faces. Candles and torches provided some heat, as they flickered in the large rooms. The lord only took visitors at night. Nothing in the castle was as Orlando had imagined. He thought there would be loud parties, elegant ladies, the delicious smell of food and golden decorations. Instead there was only a bitter cold.

  Even John Moundrell’s throne had seen better days. It stood in the middle of an empty room, in whichthe once colourful windows must have been shattered some time ago. Several rows of tables blocked his way, all of which were empty. No flowers, no food, no crystal chalices, no gold plates, not even any guests.

  He bowed low and waited for permission to speak. It remained quiet.

  “I’m sorry boy, but you stink”, a dismissive voice rung from the throne.

  Orlando remained in his submissive stance while he answered.

  “I was working in a tannery while I waited for an audience with you my lord.”

  “Then let us quickly get it over with. The smell is making me feel sick.”

  Orlando stood like before with his body bowed towards the Lord of Warwick, and the longer he stood in this uncomfortable stance, the more his hope of getting help dwindled. But then a lovely voice broke the cold silence.

  “Father, let the man stand up straight first. He has waited a long time for an audience with you.”

  Orlando furtively raised his head to see the compassionate creature that had spoken in such a charming manner. She had long black hair, as smooth as silk and her eyes were such an intensely deep violet colour, that they shone brighter than the Avon at its purest point. Her scarlet dress made her look like a queen. At least there were noble ladies present in the castle, but this one was not just noble; she also had a good heart.

  “Rise, and thank my lovely daughter Chasity for her grace!” John Moundrell growled while Orlando thankfully stretched his back.

  “I am in your debt, my lady.”

  But Chasity just gave him a compassionate smile. Even though he had never hoped to find any family in Warwick, he immediately felt a natural affection for his beautiful cousin.

  “My lord, I come to you with a heartfelt plea. Just know that your decision will be the difference between life and death. But also know that I will take your decision with grace, whichever way you may decide...”

  “...come now boy, stop beating around the bush and tell me what you are here for!” John Moundrell interrupted him brashly, to which his daughter gave him a reproving look.

  “My beloved mother is laying on her deathbed in Bidford, but I am sure that a doctor could help her.”

  “Where would we be if we sent a doctor to every dying woman? Many people get sick in this world, even my beloved brother died not a few weeks ago.”

  “That is the reason I came to you, my lord; you brother was my father.”

  “A bastard!” John Moundrell spat in disgust.

  “The son of your beloved brother. My mother is a proud and honourable woman, she never burdened him for anything. She never asked him for money, and so as she lies dying, I have come in her place. Please my lord, without a doctor she will surely die.” Orlando chose his words to be as urgent and heart breaking as possible. He even had tears in his eyes.

  The lord reluctantly looked him up and down. The corners of his mouth hung downwards, making his face look both stern and tired.

  “My brother will be happy to see her again.”He said coldly and looked past Orlando towards his guards. With a simple hand gesture, he gave them the signal to escort him out.

  Desperately, Orlando threw himself to his knees in front of the throne. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

  “Please my lord, she is all that I have, please help her! A doctor could cure her.”

  “Next!” John commanded and the soldiers grabbed Orlando by his arms and dragged him out of the room. As soon as they reached the castle gates, they threw him face first into a puddle of mud. Dirty water flooded his mouth and washed away his tears. Orlando spluttered and gasped for air, his throat felt as if it were fused together as he sat in despair. He left his mother alone on her death bed in hopes of finding help for her. He took her dignity when he begged her for the name of his father, and she could have already died while he was gone. All the while he had been tearing the skin off animals, bathing in their blood and all for nothing.

  There was no more holding back; he sat in the middle of the street and cried his heart out like a little boy. The people looked at him in disgust. That is not how a man behaves.

  Suddenly a shadow appeared, blocking the moonlight from his face. He raised his head and gazed into c
old eyes of liquid gold. Orlando remembered having seen this lady standing beside his stunning cousin. But as opposed to her, there was no warmth or goodness in this lady’s face. Her face was as uptight as her tightly pulled back hair. The silky brown dress she wore was the softest thing about her. She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

  “My mistress would like to see you. Follow me!”

  She didn’t wait for a response and quickly turned on her heel, but instead of heading back into the castle, she headed towards the exit. What did he have to lose? He rushed behind her out of the courtyard. They crossed the Avon Bridge and stepped into the dark forest. The woman always seemed to be one step ahead of him, although she didn’t look like she was rushing in any way. While he had to run to keep up with her, she seemed to be casually sauntering. He could barely see his own hand in front of his face in the darkness, when the woman suddenly stopped in her tracks. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw a light at the end of it all. Red silk shone in the moonlight; while Chasity’s beautiful face seemed to be beaming.

  “Beloved cousin come closer.” She summoned him kindly. Her friendly nature seemed eerie to him all of a sudden. Her father had thrown him out of the castle not a few minutes before.

  “Pardon me my lady, but I do not feel beloved. Your father has taken away all hope I had of saving my mother. He wrote her death sentence.”

  “You must forgive him. Your father was never the loving brother he had wished for, and you remind him so much of Richard. You look so much like him, down to the very last hair.”

  “That is no reason to let my mother bleed.”

  “No, truly it is not.” Full of compassion, she steps towards him and her face turned up into a heartwarming smile, with tiny dimples appearing on her cheeks, making her look a lot younger than her years.

  “Even though my father might see it differently, I would like to make you a part of our family. We are of the same blood.”

  Her companion took a sharp breath.