The Vein of Love is a paranormal romantic suspense about a druid, thirty-five year old Alexandre Baptiste, who was cursed to live as a vampire. Once transformed, Alexandre began his quest for vengeance, only to find his thirst for blood and slaughter his morbid fixation. Years later, Alexandre’s hope for deliverance no longer haunted him, and he relinquished his existence to the heartless creature that he had become. He then journeyed to his estate in Brunswick County, North Carolina in search for new prey.
Late one evening the Count saw his next victim, an ethereal sixteen year old catholic girl named Heather, who was more reminiscent of an angel than a mere human. Her innocent blood summoned him more than any other had before. Her flawless splendor appealed to his sensual fleshly nature, but Alexandre hesitated to take her life. He was fascinated by the spell she had over him. He craved to satiate his yearning to feed, yet her unadulterated wholesomeness left him mystified. But Heather was more than just an innocent naive beauty. She was a girl on assignment from her God to save him, as well as to save her people from his wicked intentions.
Will Heather have the courage to end Alexandre’s mission of death, or will she become his next victim? Will Alexandre sacrifice Heather’s innocent blood to satiate his need to feed, or spare her innocent life? From impassioned physical encounters to unthinkable bloodshed, The Vein of Love is a saga about the hideous nature of depravity and the celestial providence of deliverance and redemption. Within these pages unfolds a powerful love story where two people who are fated as soul mates go beyond heaven and hell to find a way to be together. Passage from The Vein of Love:
The Count moaned with enchantment as he peered down at the sleeping Heather. The scent of her sweet innocent flesh intoxicated his senses. As he considered her virginal nature he pondered upon the notion of mounting and taking for himself what no man has had before him, and his mouth watered upon the delicious contemplation of him being the first to taste and enjoy this beautiful specimen of unadulterated beauty and purity. He admired her delicate features, her face soft with youthful innocence, and Alexandre considered all the glorious things he could do to her - if only she were but a few years older.
The Count whispered, “Interesting…” he paused, “What kind of creature are you to provoke such thoughts within me? You are neither a druid nor a necromancer, nor do you worship that which gives such power of enchantment.” She left him fascinated, intrigued, and he carefully slid the gray woolen blanket from off her body. He admired her near naked figure, her soft girlish curves ethereal and delicate. The Count leaned down and smelled of her curly blond hair, the silky swirls still emanated that same rosy scent he had enjoyed earlier that evening, and he gently ran his fingers through her long silky tresses. He leaned down to her throat and inhaled the scent of her fair flesh once again, and found that her innocent blood called out to him more than any other did.
The heavy rainfall cascaded down upon the small village of Lurgan and the twilight sky overhead flashed with lightening. Thunder rumbled overhead and the heavens overcast with ominous clouds. The blustery weather whipped through the woodland with violent gusts that shook the trees across the land. Alexandre Christophe Babtiste rode horseback to his father’s cottage as the heavy rainstorm poured down upon him. His steed galloped at full velocity down the muddied woodland and splashed his way through the marshland. Alexandre held on to the reins with a grip of steel as he nudged his feet into the sides of his stallion. He continued to push his heels into the flanks of his horse, but the spotted brown and black stallion ran at full speed ahead.
Alexandre could feel his heartbeat build up momentum inside his chest and heard the deafening thuds within his ears. His blood rushed through his veins with an adrenaline high spawned by vengeance. He wanted to quench his thirst for blood and thought of little else. Alexandre's long black cloak was drenched with rainwater and it hugged his body like a glove. His six foot four inch frame was impressive as his wet muscular body rippled underneath the clingy black cloth that draped his hard physique.
Alexandre could hear his father call out to him in his memories. “Alexandre, you come here boy! I’m not through with you!” Alexandre winced as he played the voice to memory and nudged his feet into the stallions side once again, desperate to arrive at the destination that called out to him in his worst of nightmares. “I’ll teach you to mind me! Come here, you worthless stupid boy!”
Alexandre screamed out in vehemence, his voice carried upon the wind, and his breath became labored with retribution as his memories continued to resurface. “Papa no! I won’t do it again, please!” Alexandre cringed from the remembrance of his own pitiable pleas and hated himself for being so pathetic. He despised himself for allowing his father the satisfaction of hearing him plead for mercy.
Alexandre seen his father’s cottage up ahead in the distance, Philippe Jean Boniface, and he rode into the vacant stable to dismount from his steed. He brought his long leg over the horse’s broad back and stood for a moment to catch his breath. His memories bombarded him with the horrific recollections of his life, the lashings, the beatings, the constant degradation of his existence, and his heart became burdened with a rage unquenchable. He gathered his composure amongst the den of thoughts that plagued him and groaned deep within his spirit.
Alexandre reached into the horses saddle and pulled out a long seraded edged dagger, it’s length six inches, it’s width that of two, and he stared at the blade with anticipated longing, with a desire to do nothing more than to use the beloved object to quench his thirst for blood. Alexandre's mouth upturned into a wicked smile as reprisal wafted over him. He could feel the little boy that still lived within him laugh with merriment, the prospects of eternal freedom a joyous temptation to fathom. With long strides, Alexandre neared the chalet. His body was clothed in black slacks, cloak and shirt, and once he neared the weathered wood door that separated him from freedom; he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It is time,” he whispered to himself.
Alexandre knocked and waited for his father to answer. When he heard the latch unhinge Alexandre's heart thumped hard with anticipation. Alexandre considered the middle-aged man that peered out before him and realized his stature no longer intimidated him as it once had when he was but a small boy. Alexandre chuckled with wicked intent as he considered what he was about to do to his aged papa. Alexandre squared his broad muscular shoulders and considered his father’s short stature. He was no longer the giant that Alexandre remembered as a youngster. Now his father had to look up at him.
The older man scrunched his face with disdain and bellowed, “What the hell do you want? I thought I told you that you were no son of mine. I want nothing to do with you, you worthless stupid boy!”
Alexandre cringed as he heard his father speak to him. It was the same irritating and demeaning tone that he remembered upon every recollection of his upbringing, and Alexandre forced a smile. “Papa, come now, must we let the past continue to burden us with unpleasant memories? At least let me come in for a bit so we can talk about old times.”
Philippe glared at his son with distaste and then opened the door, reluctant to let him inside his home. “Let’s hurry and get this over with. I don’t have all evening to waste on you.” He turned his back to Alexandre and walked near the fireplace to warm his wrinkled hands. His hair was the color of salt and pepper and although he was older, he still would have had an attractive appearance about him if it weren’t for the disgruntled wrinkle on his forehead and down turned mouth.
Alexandre sat down in a nearby chair and the worn timber creaked as his back rested against it. He fidgeted with the blade that sat snug in its sheath about his waist and he considered whether he should end the old man’s life now or later. “You know papa, they say time is a friend, but I beg to differ. Time is thought to heal all wounds, all trespasses that are done against a person, but I don’t think that is true in our case.”
Philippe turned to his son and a concerned wrinkle creased his forehead. “You speak foolishness boy, just like you always have.” The old man walked with an unsteady gait over to his wooden rocker and sat down. He turned his attention to a tattered leather whip above the fireplace mantle, it displayed above the chimney like a prized trophy, and chuckled with pretentiousness. “Remember that boy?” With an outstretched finger, he pointed to the threadbare whip. “I remember how I tied you upside down in that tree in the front yard and how I lashed you with that whip. Do you remember that, Alex?” he chuckled as a malicious grin went across his furrowed face. “I remember as if it was yesterday. I was able to do it then and I can still do it to you now, boy.”
Alexandre lowered his eyes as he remembered the painful memories of his childhood and gritted his teeth when he replayed his horrid past. His father received a sick pleasure from the pitiless torture he inflicted upon him as a child. Alexandre’s jaw tightened with a newfound rage. He then raised his hazel eyes and met his father’s with disdain, and a small impish smile graced Alexandre’s handsome face.
Alexandre reached down to his dagger and removed the six-inch seraded blade from its sheath, and lifted it at eye level so he could admire it. He turned the blade to the right and then to the left, as the firelight danced upon the shiny metal. Then, as if a sudden thought had entered his mind, Alexandre turned his cold hazel eyes to his father and his smile faded.
“I’ve had a long time to think about what you did to me and my family papa, a long time to reminisce about the days gone by, and there are certain memories that I can’t seem to forget.” Alexandre looked at the knife and admired it again, then pointed it in his father’s direction. “But I was thinking of how to get rid of them, papa. I was thinking that if I were to kill you that somehow, miraculously, my memories of the torture you inflicted upon me and my family would somehow end.”
Alexandre arose from his chair and took a few steps toward his stepfather. “What you did to me as a young boy haunts me, it entering into my mind as I lay down to sleep at night, it coming to memory when I hear a screaming child in the streets or in the market place. In my nightmares I see the buckskin whip thrashed across my flesh as blood oozed from the open wounds. I can’t seem to forget how much pleasure you received when you branded my backside with your metal belt buckle, or how you received sick satisfaction when you killed my mother and my real father. With every memory of what you did to me it only feed’s my desire to end the very life that caused my affliction.”
Philippe stared at Alexandre with challenging eyes. “You don’t have what it takes to follow through with that threat, boy!”
“Really papa, you don’t think that I do?”
“You’re a coward just like Damien and your mama was.”
Alexandre chuckled, swung his arm back, and then threw the dagger into his papa’s chest. Alexandre stood there reflective as his father gasped with horror. His papa looked at the six inch serrated dagger that protruded out of his chest and Alexandre walked heedlessly over to him. “I think maybe you have forgotten that I am a hunter, papa. I have seen the life of many beasts snuffed out through various techniques. I have always wondered if that same horrified expression that rested in their eyes when they knew death was imminent would be the same expression in a human’s eyes when they too knew death was forthcoming.”
Alexandre studied his father’s fear stricken appearance. “I would have to say my theory was correct. You have that same wild look in your soulless eyes, papa. The only thing that I find different is that I always felt pity for the poor beast under my knife, regretful that I had to kill them and take their life, but I can honestly say that I have no remorse over taking yours. I suppose we are even now, since you didn’t have mercy upon my mother and father either.”
Alexandre walked over to his father and watched him take his last few breaths, but before death overcame him, Alexandre leaned down and whispered in his father’s ear. “Oh, by the way papa, once you are dead I intend to cut you up into tiny pieces and sell your meat to your best friend Hank. He is having the town over for festivities this evening. I hear he pays quite well for fresh meat. But before I do I am going to cut your heart out and eat it, ripping it out as you have done to mine over and over again.” Alexandre then met his father’s gaze and watched him take his last few breaths. “Goodbye papa,” Alexandre whispered, and Philippe took a few hard gasps and died.
Alexandre reached down and pulled the dagger out of his father’s chest. Blood gushed from the open wound and Alexandre considered. “You know papa, you never did have a heart. Therefore I’m most certain you won’t need this one.” Alexandre stabbed the blade into his papa’s chest and began to dig out the lifeless heart within, and Alexandre reached down, yanked it out, and lifted it up to examine it.
“Interesting, it looks like a heart, feels like a heart, but it never evoked emotions like a heart should have done, nor did it know mercy all of its days.” Bringing the lifeless muscle up to his mouth, he whispered. “Bon appetite.” Then, with every bit of his resolve, he bit into the bloody muscle. He ripped and chewed a piece of the very heart of his father. He squeezed the heart in his hand and Alexandre swallowed the disgusting flesh. He had blood on his face and on his clothes, and Alexandre threw the the mangled heart into the fireplace and watched it burn.
“Well papa, it’s time to make good on my word.” Alexandre walked outside for a moment and grabbed the end of an axe that was sticking out of a large piece of wood and yanked it free, then walked back into the house and shut the door behind him. He stood for a moment and considered how he wished to chop him up, and then swung back the axe and began to chop his father into chunks.
The inside of the small cabin was covered in splashes of crimson, the walls and furniture wet with the thick curdled liquid, and Alexandre continued to prepare his father’s meat as if he was dressing a wild animal after the kill. Alexandre began to pack the large chunks into sackcloth, wrapping them as quickly as possible, and when he was finished, he laid the bundle of fresh meat upon his horses back.
Alexandre found a can of kerosene inside the shed and began to drizzel the liquid around his father’s cottage. He then grabbed a nearby lantern and threw it against the side of the house. The old cabin burst into flames and Alexandre stood back and watched it burn to the ground. He then washed the blood off his face and hands while inside the shed. He mounted his horse and rode to Hank’s cabin out in the woods a few miles away.
Once he rode up into the front yard, he dismounted from his steed and knocked on the front door. He heard a man’s voice from within the log cabin call out to him, telling him to enter. Alexandre then walked in to deliver his package. He smiled and bragged. “I told you I would bring you fresh kill today. I hope it’s enough for the festivities tonight.”
The old man staggered over to the bag of meat and inspected it. With a wrinkled brow, he asked. “What kind of meat is this?” the man scoffed. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
Alexandre chuckled. “The best there is, monsieur.”
The old man looked skeptical, but handed Alexandre some coins for his trouble. “Here’s your payment. It had better be worth it. I’ll inform your papa of the matter if it’s not.”
Alexandre chuckled and considered the offering of payment, then shook his head. “Today’s your lucky day. It’s a gift, a contribution to the township.” He then turned and walked out the doorway, mounted his horse, and rode to his bungalow north of the metropolis.
Once Alexandre reached his homestead, he dismounted from his horse and unpacked his saddlebags. He then disrobed and walked naked to the creek bed. His tall six foot four inch build was impressive as his muscles flexed with every movement. He immersed himself within the water and washed away the dried blood from his skin and hair. He lifted his arms and ran his hands through his coal black hair, then lowered down into the cool water and let it swish about him.
He closed his eyes to reflect about what he had done. After a few long moments, he retreated from the brook and went inside his cabin. He grabbed a large cloth and dried his glistening flesh from moisture, then went to lay down, his body naked in the candlelight, so he could rest.
Alexandre's body was exhausted from the horrific act he had committed and he felt his mind would race out of control with the haunting recollections of what he had done. Alexandre scolded himself for having a conscience and hated himself for being weak, then screamed out into the quiet stillness.
“Never in all your days as a child did your father have mercy upon you! Why then should you have shown mercy to him? The town, they knew what he did to you, knew what torrment he put you through, and never once did they come to rescue you from the depths of hell that was your lot. Not once, not ever!” Alexandre roared with bitterness and closed his eyes to consider what he had done.
***
A week had gone by and Alexandre was still inside his cabin unshaven and unbathed. His face was no longer smooth, but rather thick with black stubble from a weeks worth of growth, and he sat at his kitchen table by the fire and carved into the wooden tabletop. A knock came to his front door and he turned to look at it with scorn. “Come!” he roared, finding the constant tapping annoying.
An older woman pushed open the door, peered in at Alexandre, and said with a vindictive tone. “I know what you did, boy. I know what you did to my beloved brother, Philippe! Beware, for you will not go unpunished for what you did to him.”
Alexandre tipped his head back and chuckled. “Come now, Josette, you can’t prove I did anything of the sort to your beloved Philippe.”
“Maybe not, boy, but I can still seek revenge for my brother’s death.” The old woman walked into the house. Her lanky frame appeared emaciated and her back was hunched over. Her long grayish hair hung about her shoulders in a ratty mess.
“Let me guess, Aunt Josette, you plan on casting one of those witches spells upon me, aye? Well, you go right ahead, for my soul was marked with a curse when I was born into this family. I can’t see how the situation could possibly get any worse.”
The old woman snickered with wicked intent and pointed her crooked staff in his direction. “Oh they can get much worse than this, boy. Beware of the night, Alexandre, for it will be your lot in life. The human blood you took will be the very blood you must live upon for the rest of your days. It will be your punishment. It will be your hell. I know you hate your life, Alexandre. You hate the very existence that you have had to endure, but your punishment is never to escape it. For I plan on making you remember what you’ve done forever.” The old woman snickered, her malicious cackle disheartened with retribution, and headed toward the door to leave.
Alexandre called out to her. “You may be a witch, Aunt Josette, but you aren’t powerful enough to conjure up such a spell as that.”
The aged woman turned to Alexandre and pointed her staff at him. “Maybe not, boy, but I know a small number of people who do possess such an authority, a power of old.”
“You speak of the Druids. What makes you think they would help the likes of you?”
She snickered. “I have something they want. Let’s just say it will be an exchange of services. How befitting it will be to have you marked by one of your own kind. Be warned, boy, that you will be manifest with a curse.”
Alexandre stood up and met his aunt’s cloudy blue eyes. “Then let me be marked.”
“Worry not my boy, that you will be, that you will, and very soon.”
***
Two days had elapsed and Alexandre was preparing for an outing in the woodland to hunt for food. Alexandre was a skilled hunter and his strapping muscular physique built for the task. He saddled up his steed with bow and arrow and daggers for dressing the kill. Alexandre had become famished, his stomach a constant rumble of hunger pangs that left him insatiable, which plagued him more often than usual, and his hands began to shake with a nervous tremor.
He didn’t understand the strange sensation that had overcome him. He had never experienced hand tremors before, but surmised that since he murdered his father that perhaps he was still edgy from the excitement. Alexandre pulled on his leather cow-skinned coat and mounted his horse. He grabbed the reins and tapped his heels into the horse’s side. The stallion took off into the woodland, his hoofs crunching the fallen leaves of yellows, reds and browns.
Alexandre enjoyed the peaceful stillness that surrounded him and he tried to find peace within his soul after the recent events. Night began to fall, the clouds overhead swift as they rolled in, and Alexandre stopped his steed and peered overhead at the full moon that shone above him. Alexandre felt a wave of nausea overcome him and he leaned forward and groaned. Alexandre feared he would throw up at any moment and he dismounted from his horse and almost fell to the ground in the process.
An unfamiliar smell permeated the air and Alexandre inhaled the strange scent. The more Alexandre inhaled the more he felt alive deep within him. He turned his head to the right and then to his left, but could not see anything around him that could be responsible for such an aroma. At that moment, a searing pain rushed through Alexandre’s body and he fell to his knees in a trance.
He screamed as the pain consumed him and his heartbeat went wild inside his chest. Alexandre crawled on his hands and knees as he tried to escape whatever it was that was attacking him from inside out. Alexandre didn’t make it far before his hands began to shake with violent spasms and he sat back upon his heels and lifted his hands in front of his face. His eyes widened with dread. “No!” he screamed in horror, as long dagger like nails began to protrude out of his fingertips where his nails once were. “Josette!” he roared. “What have you done to me you old witch?”
Alexandre tried to stand to his feet, but he felt a dizzying vertigo that left him confused, and he sat back down upon his heels and prayed. “Oh God, what is happening to me!” he screamed again. Tears began to surface up in his eyes as he realized that the curse his aunt had threatened him with was now becoming a harsh reality. “What kind of monster am I becoming?”
Alexandre then spread out onto the ground with his arms out at his sides, and lay on his back. A throbbing sensation was inside his mouth and Alexandre screamed in agony as long fangs began to protrude out of his upper and lower teeth. Blood was running down his face and he reached a shaky hand up to his mouth and felt the long dagger like protrusions sticking out from underneath his lips.
Voices began to surface within Alexandre's mind, the undistinguishable sounds a den of memories and confusion, and Alexandre put the palms of his hands over his ears and curled up in a ball upon the ground, his head pounding with the thoughts, feelings and fears of numerous people. Alexandre pushed himself up, staggered over to his horse, and grabbed the reins.
He slid on top of the horses back and steadied himself as best he could. He tapped the reins and began to journey through the woodland. Alexandre determined that he would find Josette and make her transform him back to being human. He would make her change him back or he would kill her as well. After he journeyed an hour through the darkened woodland, Alexandre found himself hungered and cold.
He looked up into the distance and saw Josette’s hovel, with smoke clouds overhead from her lit chimney. Alexandre shivered with an uncontrollable quiver as the blood rushed through his veins like rivers of ice. He tapped the reins to hasten his steed onward and neared her portico. He dismounted from his horse and plummeted to the ground. His weakened body was no longer steady as his condition paralyzed his body. “Josette…” he roared. “Come out here, you old witch!” With every ounce of strength he could muster, he pulled himself upon the veranda and stood to his feet. With a rounded fist he pound upon the door. Alexandre heard the latch upon the door unhinge and Josette peered at him through a small crack through the doorway. She studied Alexandre’s appearance, his face bloodied with fangs that pushed from underneath his upper and lower lips, and noticed his hands bloodied with long dagger like nails.
Josette snickered with an animated tone and boasted, “My my, look what we have here.”
“Let me in!” Alexandre demanded, his eyes probing into hers for answers.
“No, I’m no fool! You think I’d let you inside my home after what I’ve had done to you?” she cackled.
Alexandre mustered all of his strength and pushed open the door with force, and Josette stumbled back and peered up at him in horror. She was cautious, not certain if she should trust Alexandre after she had him changed into a creature of the night, but soon realized she had no alternative but let him inside her home. Alexandre was physically much too powerful for her to control. Josette surmised that Alexandre was much too weak from his transformation to do her harm.
“Very well, boy, but I’m warning you, behave yourself,” she snickered and got out of his way so he could enter within.
Alexandre staggered to the warm fire, sat down next to it, and raised his torn bloody hands up next to the flames. He looked over at Josette and demanded. “What have you done to me?”
Josette sat down in her old rocking chair and studied Alexandre with satisfaction. “The Druids said it would happen fast, but little did I know it would be this quick.” she snickered again, satisfied with the obvious outcome.
“What has happened? I demand to know what it is you have done to me.”
“I should have done this year’s ago to your weak human mother when she first met my brother, Philippe. Instead, he chose to keep her though she was in love with another man. Worthless harlot! Now look at you. You’re Damien’s bastard child. Because of you, Philippe is dead! Yes, you will pay, my boy, for your mother and real father’s sins!”
“So, it comes to this?” Alexandre mused. “Though you have killed both my parents your hatred for my Christian mother and Druid father still rushes through your veins. I pity you, Josette.” At that moment, Alexandre groaned from anguish. “What have you done to me?” he demanded once again.
“There’s an ancient curse that was cast upon you by a very wise and wicked Druid friend of mine. I told her what you had done to my beloved brother Philippe and since she owed me a favor she cast a very dark spell upon you. I told her about your Christian mother and her affaire with your Druid father. We came up with a very interesting curse tailor made just for you.” Josette cackled and slapped her hand on her knee.
Alexandre lowered his hands from the flames and studied the dagger like nails with confusion. “I don’t understand what I’ve become. What am I?”
“You are a creature of darkness. You will live by the moonlight and sleep during the sunrise. You will hunt and feed upon human prey, primarily the fairer sex, compliments of my distaste for your mother. You will live upon the very blood that gives them life in order to save your own from eternal damnation and torment. You Alexandre are no longer human, but rather a living abomination. You are a vampire.”
Her confession shocked Alexandre. He had heard of such myths, such curses, yet never thought them real, only a make believe story to scare little children. “There are no such things as vampires, Josette.”
“Really boy, are you so certain about that? I’d say from the looks of you that you are indeed a vampire already.” Josette laughed wickedly as she saw Alexandre consider his lifelong fate.
“You forget, Josette, that I am also a Druid. I am powerful in my own right and I will find a way to rid myself of this curse, whether you choose to help me or not.”
“Not possible,” she boasted. “You see, it is a very special curse, my boy. I know you are a powerful Druid and a high priest in your craft, and that you are very capable of releasing yourself of this burden. Your father, Damien, saw to it that his last breath was to bless you with his powers, relinquishing his gifts to you upon his death. So the curse was created for it to be unbreakable by you or anyone else, other than the one who gave it.”
“Then there is only one way to rid myself of this. I will kill myself so I will not have to live the life you have created for me. In death I will find peace.”
“I’m afraid you will not find comfort in death, boy. You see, you can’t die, not now or ever, at least not death, as we know it. You are immortal, forever immortal, living as you are today forever. For the rest of eternity you shall suffer with the very memories that drove you to kill my brother Philippe. You will never escape what you’ve done, for that is your punishment.” Josette snickered with a heinous grin upon her face.
“But if I refuse to kill and to feed then I would not have sustenance. I will eventually die.”
“Yes, you will eventually die a very painful and tortuous death, but the end result will be even more dreadful than the curse you bare. You will never know death, Alexandre. You will only know torment and pain. I have seen to it that even in hell you will be punished for your crimes against my brother Philippe!”
Alexandre felt his stomach churn and knot up into a ball of spasms, and he wrapped his arms about his waist and leaned over. He screamed in agony as he continued to be transformed into a creature of the night and then as if a wave of peace surfaced within him all a once, Alexandre released his arms from about his waist and lifted his eyes over at Josette.
Alexandre smelled that same intoxicating scent as he had before, the same aroma that made his veins rush with excitement. With a calm voice, he asked. “Tell me Josette, how can I be released of this curse you have had the evil Druid put upon me? As a Druid I know there is always a way out of any curse that we inflict upon another. It is our way. If you don’t tell me what I need to know I will have to kill you.”
Josette sneered. “Kill me boy and the curse will never be lifted, because the cure will die with me.”
“So there is a way to be released of this curse?” Alexandre stood up, his body tall and muscular, and the sickness that afflicted him moments earlier no longer affected him. He studied Josette with his piercing hazel eyes and found her thoughts revealed to him. He probed her mind and searched for the answers. Josette shrieked from pain as he neared her, his mind control ruthless as he ripped through her guarded thoughts.
“You think you can get the answers from me boy? There is a way the curse can be broken, but I will never tell you how. Never!”
Alexandre walked over to her. His body was no longer weakened from his transformation and he grabbed the back of her head and lifted her up to his face. Her legs dangled above the ground as she kicked and screamed. He peered into her cloudy blue eyes and searched her mind for the answers, and he soon realized that she didn’t know the cure for his affliction nor did she know who had conjured the curse. He bared his fangs. “I understand now, Josette. It all makes sense to me now.”
Alexandre chuckled, the irony of killing the one who cursed him to live this life of hell pleasing to him. “From this day forward I am no longer human. I am no longer a part of the race that has forsaken me since birth. I am now free, free to live my own existence without the trappings of the human condition. Instead of being the victim of human cruelty and hatred the tables have now turned in my favor.”
Alexandre threw his head back and laughed once again. “The very curse that you inflicted me with to be my prison is the very thing that has set me free.” Alexandre bared his fangs, pulled Josette to his mouth, and sank his teeth deep into her throat. He could hear her heartbeat race out of control, feel the fear from her emotions deep within her, and Alexandre chuckled with wicked satisfaction as he fed because Josette would soon be dead and no longer alive to hurt him or remind him of his father, Philippe.
After only a few moments of feeding Alexandre felt his aunt Josette fall limp in his arms. A new surge of energy rushed through his veins, a high unlike anything he had ever known before, and when he was satiated, he dropped her lifeless body onto the ground. He licked his lips and delighted in the taste of her blood, and looked down at his aunt’s dead body.
“All I’ve ever wanted was to escape my life. To forget the torture inflicted on me year after painful year. Now, I find myself cursed to live with the memories of my existence, but now I have something else to sustain me. The very people who caused my suffering will all perish. From this day forward, I forsake human kind to live a life that no longer holds me prisoner but sets me free. Since this is the curse cast upon me by humans then let it be the curse that will help me seek my revenge upon them. From this day forward humans will taste my revenge.”