Categories > Original > Horror > Angel Moon
Play: Moonlight ~ Yiruma
I sat at the dining table and watched her, Belle, for most of the day, sat infront of the door that lead to the basement. Never going in, just sitting with her back against the door, exhausted. Every time she heard a crash, or a cry of pain from the dark basement, she would shake, trying to block it out. Valentine was still down there with him, so which of them it was being injured, was unclear. The house was silent bar these outburts, every half an hour or so, but when they came the sound echoed nightmarishly though the very stone. Logan and Lucretia stopped every so often to talk to her, but she never answered with more than a word or two. Her eyes sparkled, but never once did she cry. Every time they walked past, I was given a respectful nod, but no words were exchanged. Lucretia cleaned the bloody mess from the kitchen quickly, the smell wasn't favourable at the moment.
Caine was losing grip of things again, first Ursula, and now this. I knew what he felt. He felt that he wasn't as good as the rest of us, that he was weak. But quite the contrary, he was fast, subtle, and a hell of a lot more morally sound than I was. Comparing myself to Caine and Valentine was like comparing Jack The Ripper to Casper The Friendly Ghost. It annoyed me, how he couldn't see it. He was in the constant state of belief that he was a monster. Last night, how he'd drank so much, had just reinforced it and now he hated himself. As the sun came up he'd started to burn, and so we had to force him into the basement.
His injuries were terrible. The damage to his back from the initial attack was quickly becoming worse. He was still spitting the foul black liquid, but it seemed to have calmed down. In a rage in the mid morning he'd started clawing at his own skin, his blood boiling, frustration mounting. Valentine had assured me that there would be scarring to his upper body, arms and neck, and also along his jaw line. I hadn't ventured down there, I knew I wouldn't be able to take it.
I stared down at my hands. As a vampire of 224 I'd be used to waiting, but this set me on edge. For years I could have sat here and not given it a moment's thought if a day passed. But now every minute was tedious, a horrible statement to the irony that I had all the time in the world. Footsteps on the basement stairs. They were quick.
Move.
Belle caught my eye and did so, just in time for the door to bolt open and Valentine to shut it again. He was breathless, covered in all manner of blood and blackness, looking tired yet alert. His blonde hair was covering his eyes, and he looked mildly frightened.
"Zane, Zane..." he paused for breath. "We'll need to get some silver to bind his hands with, before he sees his eyes. He can't cause any more damage to himself, he'll start cutting himself up again."
I knew what we had to do. We had to move. We needed help from some one who knew what would happen.
"Where's Dorian's from here? How far?"
Valentine thought about my question, his eyes darting about at the ceiling, trying to think.
"Not far, we could run it in three hours."
I nodded, taking a deep breath in.
"Then we go, nightfall, you have two hours, get him ready. I'll settle things here."
My brother nodded back at me and retreated once more into the dark. I turned, and Belle faced me, a determined air about her. I waited for her to say something, and when she did, it was exactly what I had been expecting.
"I'm going. So are the others. You need potection." she said bluntly, thinking she had to convince me.
"Thank you. We leave in two hours." I said curtly, and she looked mildly surpised that I'd agreed so quickly. Nothing, not even pride, came before the need to save my dying brother.
I sat at the dining table and watched her, Belle, for most of the day, sat infront of the door that lead to the basement. Never going in, just sitting with her back against the door, exhausted. Every time she heard a crash, or a cry of pain from the dark basement, she would shake, trying to block it out. Valentine was still down there with him, so which of them it was being injured, was unclear. The house was silent bar these outburts, every half an hour or so, but when they came the sound echoed nightmarishly though the very stone. Logan and Lucretia stopped every so often to talk to her, but she never answered with more than a word or two. Her eyes sparkled, but never once did she cry. Every time they walked past, I was given a respectful nod, but no words were exchanged. Lucretia cleaned the bloody mess from the kitchen quickly, the smell wasn't favourable at the moment.
Caine was losing grip of things again, first Ursula, and now this. I knew what he felt. He felt that he wasn't as good as the rest of us, that he was weak. But quite the contrary, he was fast, subtle, and a hell of a lot more morally sound than I was. Comparing myself to Caine and Valentine was like comparing Jack The Ripper to Casper The Friendly Ghost. It annoyed me, how he couldn't see it. He was in the constant state of belief that he was a monster. Last night, how he'd drank so much, had just reinforced it and now he hated himself. As the sun came up he'd started to burn, and so we had to force him into the basement.
His injuries were terrible. The damage to his back from the initial attack was quickly becoming worse. He was still spitting the foul black liquid, but it seemed to have calmed down. In a rage in the mid morning he'd started clawing at his own skin, his blood boiling, frustration mounting. Valentine had assured me that there would be scarring to his upper body, arms and neck, and also along his jaw line. I hadn't ventured down there, I knew I wouldn't be able to take it.
I stared down at my hands. As a vampire of 224 I'd be used to waiting, but this set me on edge. For years I could have sat here and not given it a moment's thought if a day passed. But now every minute was tedious, a horrible statement to the irony that I had all the time in the world. Footsteps on the basement stairs. They were quick.
Move.
Belle caught my eye and did so, just in time for the door to bolt open and Valentine to shut it again. He was breathless, covered in all manner of blood and blackness, looking tired yet alert. His blonde hair was covering his eyes, and he looked mildly frightened.
"Zane, Zane..." he paused for breath. "We'll need to get some silver to bind his hands with, before he sees his eyes. He can't cause any more damage to himself, he'll start cutting himself up again."
I knew what we had to do. We had to move. We needed help from some one who knew what would happen.
"Where's Dorian's from here? How far?"
Valentine thought about my question, his eyes darting about at the ceiling, trying to think.
"Not far, we could run it in three hours."
I nodded, taking a deep breath in.
"Then we go, nightfall, you have two hours, get him ready. I'll settle things here."
My brother nodded back at me and retreated once more into the dark. I turned, and Belle faced me, a determined air about her. I waited for her to say something, and when she did, it was exactly what I had been expecting.
"I'm going. So are the others. You need potection." she said bluntly, thinking she had to convince me.
"Thank you. We leave in two hours." I said curtly, and she looked mildly surpised that I'd agreed so quickly. Nothing, not even pride, came before the need to save my dying brother.
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