Fangs To My Blood. Virginie T.

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      In the remote lands of Russia, life is already difficult of origin, in the Middle Ages. However, life in the service of Lord Vladimir is a real hell. He does not realize all the privileges granted to him by the tsar. He has wealth, women and food in abundance without even lifting a hand, while his people die of hunger and cold working in the fields, but nothing is ever enough. It’s really an impossible mission to serve someone who is never satisfied like Vladimir. He always wants more and more, and it is up to me to make sure that his wishes are totally fulfilled. Unfortunately, this time is no exception, he is never satisfied at all.

      – Once again! I am disappointed again, Zoran. Do I have to ask you each time to do your job properly?

      The Lord’s voice raises high so that my humiliation is complete. Whenever he intends to mistreat a servant, he invites his vassals into the great hall. He likes to make public stoning examples to establish his power in this isolated country. He does not need it because no one dares contradict his authority or even think to do so. However, I suspect he enjoys these debasements he does in public.

      – The people are poor, my lord…

      – Enough pathetic excuses. If they can’t afford money to pay the tithe, they only have to send me their daughters as compensation.

      His obscene smile scares me. These poor women… their pleading eyes haunt my nights.

      – My Lord, they have already sent you all the young girls who are old enough to please you, there are only little girls left…

      – Little girls can work until they’re old enough to suit me. You make no effort, Zoran, and the other servants begin to think that they will risk nothing to disobey and provoke me.

      My fellow wretches can never think that way. I always see them walking along the walls of the castle, with their heads down, silently praying not to be the next to suffer Vladimir's wrath. As I understand them. I wish I were in a less uncomfortable place myself.

      When it comes to punishment, my lord has a great sense of imagination. He has a deep affection for ear amputation or tongue piercing. Beheading and the pyre are also his favors. So many torments suffered by servants who have only the misfortune of having found themselves in his path. For these same absurd reasons, I have already lost an ear and my tongue still feels the warmth of the poker that pierced it. I begin to tremble, worrying about the devilish smile displayed by Lord Vladimir. What part of my body is going to have to suffer his wrath? How much more pain am I going to have to endure without flinching and reacting?

      – I’m tired of your mistreatment and your flippant attitude.

      I see from the corner of my eye Vladimir's most faithful vassals approaching me, encircling me and thus cutting me off any possibility of retreat and escape. My tremors are intensifying. I know for a good reason that amputation will not be appropriate this time. Cutting off my second ear would be of no interest and cutting off one of the four main limbs would prevent me from performing my tasks. Vladimir followed the same stream of thought.

      – Mutilate you won't make you any more effective. So, I'm going to make you a visible example to everyone in the country.

      My stomach starts clenching. I am afraid of what’s going to happen. Yet, I could not have imagined my punishment, even in my worst nightmares.

      – Zoran, by the power I have over you, I sentence you to death. You will be led outside the ramparts at nightfall, then tied up by the four limbs, upside down, and left there until death ensues. What remains of your body will then be thrown into the dung pit, where you belong, if there is anything left after the feast, of course.

      I pray that the ball that clogs my throat will kill me before the sentence is carried out. I would not do him with the pleasure of begging him to save me. Too many servants tried and their deaths were even more horrific. Vladimir was increasing their sentence with each plea. Although in my case, I don't see how it could be worse. I'm already on death row. Being driven outside the enclosure means being thrown into the pasture of hungry wolves lurking at night, in search of fresh flesh to devour in these times of winter devastation where no prey remains.

      My death was even more painful than my mind could have imagined. The vassals of Vladimir took a malicious pleasure in slashing my body in multiple places so that the smell of blood would attract the wolf packs in a herd. My anxiety became disproportionate as the grunts grew closer. Then the jaws began to snap into the void, each canine wanting to plant its fangs first in my body and fighting between them to have the biggest piece of my person. I prayed that the wolves would fight amongst each other and forget about me. I obviously did not have that chance. The first bite was a real heartbreak for my soul. After all the sacrifices and bad deeds done on behalf of Lord Vladimir, this is how he thanked me. Wolves tore my skin and flesh, feasting on me until I succumbed, to the end. I knew that my soul would go directly to hell after being in the service of Vladimir. One cannot work for a devil man like him as long as keeping his soul. I did not expect to wake up in the dung pit. In fact, I didn't even expect to wake up, at all. Ultimately, death is just the beginning of another life. A life where the prey will become the executioner. Never again will I let a person think they are superior to me. From now on, I would be the sole master of my destiny and the world would tremble before me.

      As far back as I can remember, Koudykina Gora has always seemed grim to me, but it is taking on uncontrollable proportions. Obviously, we are in the middle of winter when the polar cold reigns over the city and this could have had something to do with it. But the problem is not the temperature. Throughout more than two centuries of existence, I have never seen the city so deserted. From the top of my observatory, I see that there are no longer souls living for miles around and boredom threatens to make me fall into a catatonic state. Only mine walk the cobblestone streets, probably looking for their lunch, but there is nothing and nobody to hunt in these places. This doesn’t bother me. I don’t really have the same diet as my people which is a secret that I treasure very carefully. My father already locks me in my room far too often. Learning my peculiarity will certainly not improve our relationships and will probably not be my ticket out for the outside. A deep sigh breaks my lips when I think of my father. He is not really my father, not in the strict sense of the term as humans understand it. But, undoubtedly, he is my father. Vampires have no children, they have descendants. Finally, they did. I was the last to be created. The last vampire born, the last transformed by the original vampire in person: Zoran. As far as I know, I'm also the only female vampire. Zoran had, until me, only converted men. When I asked him about the reason behind this choice, he replied tactlessly that women are too fickle and that such power should not be in everyone's hands. I personally believe that he refuses to have to share his power with a woman and that he therefore did not want to transform them at the risk of succumbing to the charms of one of them.  Today, СКАЧАТЬ