‘To Louis One Cemetery I shall return, away from the fray of humans, looking to make a mockery of me, fawning over my body as if I were some kind of celebrity. Damn these people, damn them all to hell! In time, I shall see to it they meet the so called Maker much earlier than they expected.’
Ryland tapped the keys for the last words of his latest story and leaned back in the leather recliner, content with his work. “Brilliant. Just in time to post the latest installment before the weekend,” he sighed to himself and clicked the “x” button to close the window on his laptop screen. Satisfied with his work for the evening, he glanced at the clock in the corner and noticed he’d been writing for the last four hours straight, with no breaks.
Just one of the many benefits of being an immortal.
Ryland smiled to himself and gripped the golden chalice containing blood from his latest kill. He sniffed it first, allowing it to fill his nostrils before putting it to his lips. Type AB, excellent. Though he hated the being he’d become, he couldn’t deny the sweet taste of fresh blood from a human. After taking one sip, the warmth trickled down his throat, sending tiny bits of adrenaline to his nipples, making them pebble underneath his shirt. The slow burn settled in his chest, making him gasp. Immediately after, his groin stirred in his trousers, causing him to squirm uncomfortably in the chair. Ryland closed his eyes and held the chalice tightly, savoring every little bit of his victim’s blood. He sat it down and stared at it, admiring the tiny gems on the container.
Something about a young man’s blood, better than any other.
Ryland hadn’t been happy about his brother’s choice of existence nor the decision he made on Ryland’s behalf, but they were young and Ryder, who’d always been the most immature one, did what he thought was best so they’d survive. Besides, they’d spent the majority of their early childhood without a mother and father and only each other to lean on. Such a horrible fate for two young boys, still growing up and learning the ways of the world. Perhaps it was best to be taken under the wing of a vamp to be taught things from the other side. At least they had one person to guard and watch over them in the early stages of their lives.
When thinking about his parents, a small tear ran from Ryland’s eye down to the base of his cheek. Despite all of what he’d seen, he’d never forget that awful day when their world was torn apart during the Natchez War in the early 1700’s.
* * * *
A log cabin at White Apple, in Mississippi, late 1723
“Ryland, don’t cry. We will all be together.” Ryland’s mother Jean held him close to her firm bosom and caressed his head. “Take care of your younger brother. You must be strong like your papa!”
Ryland continued to wail and his younger brother stood in silence with his father. After Jean and Jacque Durand kissed them, both parents shoved the young boys into a door underneath the floor of their cabin so they wouldn’t be captured by anyone and taken into slavery.
“Shhh… Ryland, we must be quiet if we’re not to get caught,” Ryder whispered to his older brother, older by only minutes.
Still upset, Ryland sniffed and wiped his eyes, wanting so badly to be by his parents’ side. Something told him they wouldn’t be together as their mother had promised though he hoped he was wrong about his inclination.
Ryland and Ryder held one another when they heard heavy footsteps over their heads. Ryland shuddered and covered his own mouth and his brother’s.
It must be the French!
“Vous là-bas, femme! Venez ici maintenant! Est-il votre mari, cet indien?” (You there, woman! Come here now! Is this Indian your husband?)
Ryland and Ryder closed their eyes tightly. Ryland himself prayed to the gods above, hoping they would save their parents from harm.
In moments, the twins jumped when they heard two gunshots ring out.
“Nooo… vous l'avez tué,vous devez me tuer aussi!” (You killed him, you must kill me too!) They heard their mother’s loud crying and then heard rumbles and laughter from the Frenchmen mocking her.
They’ve shot my father and now they’re taking my mother! How could you, oh great one? Why didn’t you save them as I asked?
Ryland wept in silence as did his brother, who held him tighter against his chest.
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