Bound By Blood

by C. H. Scarlett

  She knew the signs she was suffering. Once a Vii felt hunger such as this, her Awakening was upon her. She would give off the scent which would attract the one who would bring it about. No ritual or potion could stop it now. Nature had found its course.

  Her horrified eyes sought out her sisters. In the one moment that her body crossed the threshold of its change, so did theirs. She could smell them and their sweet bouquets rising through the air. She had triggered in them what she feared they would trigger in her. She almost cried. She started to die inside, or she felt like it-- or that was her mind trying to hold onto what was left of her because everything else was enslaved by him and his blood? She welcomed her own death. Her body backed up even closer against the stranger who held her and her eyes showed no more fear. She was ready. Let them come! Let them come! Let death come!

  Within an instant, the Nosophoros started to spring forth, bringing their attack and within that same instant her body was thrown down. She never once closed her eyes. Not once did she hide her face from death. She knew the stranger would be able to fight off only so many. She knew the rest would be able to trample and claim her. Not once did she look away. Not once did she try to defend herself. She was ready to feel their jaws upon her flesh. She remained still, waiting.

  But death did not come, for the same white light as before, scorched against her eyes the second they were on the attack. It pained her nocturnal vision as if she had looked directly into it. Painfully she clenched her burning eyes shut. When she opened them, she saw the bodies of more than a hundred Nosophoros burning. It was blurry and her eyes clearly stung, but nonetheless, she could smell their flesh cooking and the ashes falling just as it had before. It had happened so fast that she had to explain to herself that it did happen. Here she was prepared to die and then nothing, nothing.

  The rain stopped again and the fires were rekindled by their previous chant. Her powers returned; she felt them flood over her. The blood which took control over her true nature had faded. She was normal again as if nothing had ever happened. The smell from her sisters was gone and so were the birth of her new fangs. She instinctively moved her hands over her eyes, which were still stinging. She whispered healing chants to help bring back her keen sight. She felt her sisters gather around her as she still sat on the ground fighting the pain.

  Once she opened her eyes again though, she found that the very arm which held her against him, now offered to help her up. The same frightening eyes she had seen at the Tavern and forest were looking down at her, again making her gaze their prisoner. She was sure her heart completely stopped now if it hadn’t before. In fact, it must have, for she could no longer breathe.

  ~Chapter 7~

  The Claim

  ***

  Invoke the claim.

  Summons the gift.

  Vanished now and fade with mist…

  ***

  He had long black hair, which hung down a muscular back. His skin was bronze, and thick like that of most warriors. His large upper arms were tattooed with strange tribal marks and symbols. Power emanated from them. His face was chiseled and seemingly perfect. He had deep cheekbones and a strong jaw. His large penetrating indigo eyes were compelling and his ample mouth was alluringly dangerous. His brows were arched, giving his gaze a devilish but tempting edge. His heavy, long, lashes encompassed his glowing eyes and intensified them. His body threatened a strength, which could snap ten men as if they were nothing more than dry twigs and she had witnessed this with her own eyes. He was a giant or perhaps god or he seemed like one. It wasn’t just his size but all the things about him combined, such as his power, gestures, and his mere presence.

  Her mind had never registered these things before with all that was happening. She had noticed little things here or there, if at all, but there was no time to truly accept them. Now she was taking notice as she tried to decide on whether or not she would take his hand.

  Decide? She wanted to laugh if she could. Sarcasm spread through her mind like a wild fire as she fought to remain in control of herself and her actions, wrestled with his power that proved to be more than just dominant. To decide something meant that you had a choice. Did she have a choice?

  “Daŕēus?” Kaléé’s voice choked on what could possibly be nervousness or surprise. Kaléé never choked, nor did she express any emotion that showed her being taken aback or completely floored. But she did so now, which was enough to stump Samanthŕa. She wobbled towards him slowly, balancing herself with her staff, with her head slightly bowed. She moved in a way which questioned if he was real or merely a ghost-- and what was even stranger, other Lycãons followed. Rameŕas, becoming man again, also bowed as if he knew whatever it was that stole Kaléé’s attention. The others, as confused and unknowing as Samanthŕa, simply stood back and looked on with utter dismay. The sisters were literally frozen.

  But this Daŕēus . . . as Kaléé called him . . . never took his eyes away from Samanthŕa. He still held out his hand for her to take it. In some strange way, she held his attention. In a very obvious way, he held hers.

  His power continued to move through her, consume her, and intrigue her. It caused her hand to rise and for some reason she could not fight it. Did she want to fight it? Was her misfortune of being so curious finally working against her?

  No, she thought, if her thoughts were her own, I do not want to fight it. He was too interesting, too bright, and too mysterious. His power was too intoxicating, familiar even though it was so new. It made her senses tingle, her hunger soar to unreachable depths. She was too comfortable to fight it, too enthralled to desire a fight.

  Her fingers grazed his and an electrical current tickled the tips of them. White light sparked as his large powerful hands slid past her palm. She trembled, but not from fear. His light was rapture, drawing her up and into him. The world stood still, time froze again; only instead of slow motion, all else disappeared and faded. Everything around them became hazy blurs and the only distinct outline was his face, his eyes.

  She thought to withdraw, if she was able to think at all. His blood, his power, had triggered the first signs of her Awakening before. She needed to withdraw, she repeatedly screamed at herself, but couldn’t.

  Dear Goddess, I can’t-- and she didn’t. She took his hand and felt him pull her up to him. She felt him pull back his power slightly though, so that the dizziness and drunkenness she’d begun to feel receded. What is he? She kept wondering. She had never sensed an immortal like him. Not even ones like Dĩas or her mother wielded such power.

  She still sensed his blood, even if the wound had healed; it was still freshly upon his skin. Her fangs were peaking again. Her beast was still struggling.

  “Who are you?” she managed to whisper. His head tilted as if her question either amused him or intrigued him. It was hard to tell. "What are you?"

  Voices came from the forest. They were loud voices which were mixed with shouting, growling and calling. Out of the forest’s throat, Dĩas and the more experienced Strygĩ warriors appeared.

  "Curse you Dĩas!" Kaléé spewed with hate. "How dare you show now, after we barely survived!"

  "Stop your accusations cursed crone!" Dĩas yelled back. “We came as soon as word entered the Higher Realm that the Lycãons were under attack. Our magic was affected, so we had to take horses, until finally whatever hand of power worked against us let up enough so that we could mist.” Dĩas wasn’t happy. For once, his expression showed it. His unhappiness only became grimmer once he saw Samanthŕa and then the one who stood by her.

  Daŕēus’ hold of power let go of Samanthŕa completely. She nearly lost her footing when a new dizziness caused her to sway.

  His head snapped around towards Dĩas and he let out a low warning growl. Whoever he was, he clearly did not like her father. Whoever he was, her father clearly did not like him.

  Samanthŕa came back to her senses as if someone suddenly slapped her awake. She tried to shake the blurriness from her head. Her luck seemed
so foul this night. First, she was in peril at the Tavern, then in the forest, and then she was attacked on the sacred grounds of the Lycãons. This giant, this large massive beast of a god-like man was gleaming over her. This force of nature she failed to understand; who Kaléé seemed to know-- and now Dĩas. Dĩas was possibly worse than all of tonight’s events put together. She pondered that for a second, too. Yes, she was sure of it. Dĩas was worse and whatever wrath he would plague her with would seem like nothing compared to the battle she barely survived.

  And, just as she expected, her father began to storm towards her. The weight of his armor was crushing the soils below. His face tightened and his energy was horrific.

  “I’d have been better off if the Nosophoros killed me.” Samanthŕa hissed low from beneath her breath, without thinking. She quickly looked at her sisters who were shivering behind her. She told them in their minds. “You only came here to bring me back home. You found out I snuck away and came only to fetch me. Tell him no different!”

  Daŕēus turned his head back towards her. It slightly tilted to one side as his eyes studied her words-- and thoughts. Did he hear her mind speak? How was that possible? Was it even possible? Maybe he only found amusement in what she spoke out loud. Yes, that had to be it. Her voiced words were what amused him and his mouth exposed a fiend’s grin. His attention seemed shattered, though, once Dĩas came too close. Daŕēus sounded off a warning growl.

  Her father froze. “Samanthŕa, move away from him!” Dĩas barked his order. He started to reach for her when Daŕēus stepped in between them and started growling even louder. He was like a wolf protecting something from another beast or showing his strength before another blindly challenging him. The sound was deep and ferocious. It made Samanthŕa freeze. A chill latched onto her neck and ran repeatedly down her back.

  Is he Lycãon? She wondered, as she became all too aware of the fear in Dĩas’ face. That disturbed her more. She had never seen fear in Dĩas before. She took a few steps back, truly weary of this Daŕēus now. She remembered her first thoughts when she’d seen him this night. How frightening he was. In fact, she’d kept that opinion until just now. What had changed it? Was she ignoring her instincts?

  “It is you who should move away from her.” Daŕēus spoke. His voice was deep and penetrating just as it had been in the forest. It was hypnotizing. She had to shake it off. She was being drawn by the power. That had to be it. Power like that was addicting. She had never experienced it before but she had heard stories from Dĩas and the Elders about it. It was the kind of power that drove fools like Monéaklá off the edge of a cliff.

  Monéaklá couldn’t survive this kind of power, she thought. The worthless wench would try, though.

  "It is you, Daŕēus!" Kaléé sounded far too emotional, but only Samanthŕa noticed. The two males before her could not see past their hate.

  “Do not dare to give me orders!” Dĩas roared. Fear lurked somewhere in his voice still, a hint of nervousness, flustered and with a touch of reservation. He raised his staff of power. Daŕēus didn’t budge. Samanthŕa shut her eyes but her pesky curiosity opened them again. She didn’t want to see what might happen, but then again, she knew she couldn’t miss it.

  “That’s enough, Dĩas. Put your staff down for he is the Father of the Blood. He is the thirteenth bloodline!"

  A gasp came from the many throats watching. It spread like a wave of water.

  "That is right!" Kaléé spoke even louder. "He is what I say and what I say he is means you couldn’t kill him if you tried, Dĩas, something which you learned a long time ago already. Do not play the fool twice.” Kaléé hissed this as she put herself in between them. She took her own staff and pushed Dĩas’ down with the end of it.

  Everyone else rambled away with blurred whispers. Samanthŕa, whose mind was fumbling upon the words, Father of the Blood, the thirteenth bloodline, nearly choked. How could he be the Father of the Blood? How could he be the thirteenth bloodline? That would mean he was a Dracuŕa and if that was the case then he did not exist, or he wasn’t supposed to exist. The bloodline was destroyed with the ancient world. It was forbidden to even speak of them, ask questions about them, or search out their history. Samanthŕa was astounded. She knew now why his power was so intense. Her thoughts were running a million miles a minute. Her last thought: No wonder his blood forced the signs of my Awakening to emerge. He is not my Awakener. His blood is merely that pure.

  Her Awakening-- she began to quiver and felt ashamed as the memory of the rest of her dream came back to her.

  The words, No force on this earth can prevent me from finding you. We will be one again, caused her to blush.

  How could she mistake his power for that of her true Awakener? How could she be such a fool? She didn’t want to think about that right now. She couldn’t. Not with Dĩas so close. If he knew…she shuddered to think about what would happen to her.

  “I will not tell you again, Samanthŕa; move away from him.” Dĩas snarled.

  “Samanthŕa, stay where you are.” Chymeŕah’s voice came out of nowhere. Everyone’s attention turned towards her. She was the exact image of her daughter; except her hair was a chocolate brown and her eyes were darker than the lack of light. She had a more mature look about her though, and she worked her charms more effectively. She moved gracefully, smoothly, as though she slithered like a serpent. The train of her crimson robes faded into a trail of mist. Nothing was more beautiful, Samanthŕa thought.

  "Stay out of this Chymeŕah!" Dĩas growled without looking away from Daŕēus. "If you know what is good for you, you will--"

  “He has triggered her Awakening," she told Dĩas with much satisfaction bursting with expression. Another gasp spread through those watching. "So she is no good to you now."

  Samanthŕa nearly died. Why in all of Hadãe had her mother said that, of all things? Did she not know what would happen to her by doing so? No, she wouldn’t, Samanthŕa thought. No one knew what they had been doing to prevent the Awakening. No one knew about the curse.

  “Can you not smell the scent coming off of them?” Chymeŕah continued. “All of them? Samanthŕa and her sisters, and every Vii that stands here this night?” Chymeŕah was overflowing with pride. "That which you tried to suppress has caused every flower in the garden to bloom. My daughter, High Priestess, has triggered the release in every female here. Blessed be the Goddess for such power." Chymeŕah was amused that her daughter had triggered every Vii’s Awakening, from this realm to all the rest. Her daughter’s knack for causing chaos made her so very proud and Chymeŕah made no secret of it. She was a beautiful, unpredictable creature to Chymeŕah and no matter what Dĩas did, he could not destroy it. “Your efforts have failed. The Father of the Blood has returned and your daughter will have her Awakening. A new night has fallen upon us. A prophecy is invoked. I suggest you prepare yourself.”

  Samanthŕa panicked. Was this the prophecy that she heard whispers of in the Tavern and the hint of what Kaléé spoke of before? What prophecy, aside from her forthcoming doom? She noticed the irritation stream across Dĩas’ face. It scared her almost as much as this Daŕēus person.

  “No, no he hasn’t. See? See father, I am fine.” She tried to move out from behind Daŕēus but he was just so large. "I have no signs of Awakening. See?"

  Daŕēus's attention turned towards her again. He looked at her oddly as if he didn’t understand her reactions. And why would he understand? Again, they had kept her curse a secret. Those strange warrior eyes began to study her energy though, and she wondered if he was the Father of the Blood, how long would it take him to find out? How long would it take for him to find out she had resisted her Awakening . . . used herbs and potent to poison her sacred body . . . to defy the will of the Goddess within herself?

  Nervously, “I am fine. I’ll go with you now, father. I’ll go,” she tried to say, when Daŕēus took a step towards her. She stopped dead in her tracks as his eyes caught hers again. This time he did not hold back h
is power. His soul reached out and grabbed hers without mercy. It was the same intoxication as before, only now, ten times stronger. It flooded her. Her thoughts touched his slightly while his mind searched hers completely. He wasn’t trying to hurt her, which was the only reason she could fathom as to why her body did not resist. Touching her mind with his, she understood his actions. He couldn’t understand the fear in her heart concerning him and the Awakening. He was displeased with her panicking.

  His mind held her there and she was unable to move. An inebriated power filled her up and embraced her. She felt as though she was floating. Barely had she heard Dĩas’ angry voice.

  “These are your tricks; Chymeŕah! You hunger for power as always! You wish your daughter to be bound to him because you think it will benefit you somehow! This will not happen! I will not allow it!” He started to raise his staff when the effects of Daŕēus’ power caused Samanthŕa to faint. It was the same as a mortal drinking until they passed out. His power was that effective and she was no match for it.

  ***

  Without effort or straining, Daŕēus caught her in his arms. He turned swiftly; holding what was his. Without mercy, a force of invisible energy left his eyes and hit Dĩas in the chest. Dĩas went flying a good twenty feet and his body slammed down, denting the soil with its imprint.

  The Strygĩ warriors drew their swords, but the fur and fang Lycãons and Daŕēus's six Brothers headed them off. Those who had the skill, those like Dǒntáe shifted into their beast but only if their beast promised to be more dangerous than sword. Steel, fang, and brawn bucked up against its match, each side daring the other to make the first move, brother against brother, blood against blood.

  Another rasping sound came from mostly Vii, mostly Phãegen, who watched with horror and utter dismay.