"Innocence" by Sebastian A. Meusel

„I tell you something, something new.

You´re hearing nothing, nothing new.     

You´re killing me, I´m killing you.     

And I´m guilty too.“     

(Gravity Kills - „Guilty“)     

-„There he is !“     

-„Get him ! Kill him !“     

-„Over there ! There he is!“     

-„Kill the Demon!“             

With un wrath and almost unbareable loudness the screams echoed through his head. It seemed to him that he had been running for almost an eternity and he asked himself how long he was able to continue his flight. Despite his unbelivable and certainly demonlike speed, his pursuers had not lost him in the darkness, they were simply following his tracks in the deep snow. The exaustion of running had brought back the pain.     

It was no pain in the ordenary sense of pain. Like sore muscles or a broken bone. It was a kind of agony he had never felt before. It was writhing within him, strugling to break free, eating away on his concsiousness and his self. As if it wanted to break free and destroy his host.     

With every second the pain grew stronger and his pace slowed down to a hardly straight walk. He doubbled over with pain. For moments it had seemed to him as if he had been flying through the night, almost like a bird or one of those strange little beasts with their leathery wings.     

The world around him cleared from a blur to recogniceable forms. The trees no longer were dark shadows and the moon, wich had been a mere silver fleck in a black void, now again watched from the star spangled sky like a father watching the escapades of his unruly children and had taken on solid form.     

For a few moments it had all been so strange, as if time itself had slowed down to a trickle, or as if the whole world had taken to a grotesque mime-play in slowing and almost stopping its every movement and fooling him into beleving he was able to watch single snowflakes fall.     

On the fringes of his conciousness he had been aware of a large stag. It had been startled from its place of rest by the nightly hunt, he had noticed the deer only as a dark blurr in the moonlight. It almost seemed to him that he was still able to hear the blood rushing through the body of the great animal. Its heart beating in a steady fast rythm, filling the air with the stench of fear. He had been aware of every muscles movement in the stags body even before the it had taken one leap. But this nightly hunters were not out for the king of the forest, they were in pursuit of a newborn man, a newly made demon and an innocent beast.     

But now he only heard the shouting of his hunters. He could smell the fire of their torches and their sweat, partly caused by their fear and partly by the unsusual exaustion of running through the deeply snow covered forest. He himself wasnt even asweat, nor did he feel the cold. The only thing he felt was the pain inside him.     

It prevented him from running further, kept him from taking anymore steps. He pressed his body to the trunk of a nearby tree, he could feel the rough strukture of its bark, every single depression in the dark surface under his  fingertips. The dim light of the uncaring moon was enough for his eyes to see every movement of his pursuers following his trail in the silvery snow.     

There was one of them.     

A little to far away from the rest of the group. A young man from the village. He knew him, but that was not important anymore.     

Silently he advanced the man, wich held a torch over his head looking for clues to his prey. He was like a hunting wolf moving in for the kill, a flying arrow on its silent trip to its target, inevitibly bringing it to the next world.     

He could smell the nervousness of the boy, his fear.     

His Blood.     

Then suddenly, there was only one word for the pain inside his gut. It forced its way from the depth of his spirit to the surface of his beeing, he had tried to ignore its meaning, the implications of the unbareable agony, but now it was as clear as the moonlight on the snow.     

Like a dagger to the heart of an innocent victim he came upon the young man.

This fought the pain to its knees, forced the feeling back into his now dark soul, locked the beast again into its cage.     

Took away the HUNGER             

Reluctantly he let go of the now limb body.     

He was able to think again.     

The Hunger had ceased.     

The farmers son was dead.     

He felt stronger then ever before. Everything had changed. His vision seemd to be more clear than ever, so his hearing had increased a manyfold, he could have sworn he herad the soft murmur of  myriads of snowflakes hitting the ground.     

If not for the voices of the men out to kill him. He felt their presence and a part of his spirit came to the conclusion to flee, whereas a darker, more brutal, new part of his soul, the part wich had taken the life of the young man, told him to confront these peasants and to kill them all. He could do so. He knew it. He had done it before, that was why they were hunting him.     

It had been a bright sunny, but very cold day and he had spent most of his time, listening to brother Peruis ranting on about the absolute nescetty to study the holly book. The old man had talked for hours about the importance of faith in this dark world and of how the belive in God and Angels and all those Saints was part of human nature, bread and wine for and the ultimate redemption of his soul. But he barely listened. It was nothing of interest to him. He longed to be back at his fathers house and in his room again. And to be again reading the books from his fathers library. These books his father had brought with him from his journeys, held more wisdom and knowledge of the world outside of France, more things dear to him then the whole church could hope to offer. Their knowledge lay not in things beyond the grave, it lay in living and seeing the wonders of the world. In theses books he found the comfort and inspiration he needed for in his life. But he too found them making him long for more. Making him wish to see these wonders with his own eyes. Oh, how he wanted to see these far of shores, to feel the wind of the desert on his face and to hear the foreign tounges spoken aloud.     

He could not help but feel bitter envy towards the crusaders and wished himself to be with them in the holy land, if that had not meant for him to pledge his life to the service of the allmighty. And maybe loose his life looking for these wonders fighting for something he had no faith in. Brother Perius would have been furious if he could have read the mind of his pupil, had he not tried to teach the boy the value of service to the lord and tried to deverge him from his worldly path to damnation.     

Whereas in these times a man should be trusting in god and the battle for the holy land was a mission every good christian should gladly partake in. The Black Death was spreading its Terror throughout the land and already had beautyfull Paris in his deadly, fatefull grasp. The „Wrath of God“ the church called it, caused by the masses straying from their path of good chistianity and belive in paganism or the unholy Sciences. Yes, he knew science. And had acces to transcriptions of books from far Persia and the holy land. How could the Men of the church condamn knowledge wich came from their „Holy Land“? Wich came from the same people that had brought forth their messia? And wich knew so much more of the human nature then them? His Father had brought the Books from Venice where he traded in silk and other fine cloth. Even a cure for the plaque was described in these writings. How could a human beeing be so blind and uncaring as to turn his belive away from things another human had seen with his own eyes and written down from his own experience. While they belived firmly and faithfully in acounts of others having heard from others having seen Angels and miracles. He could not understand such a thing.     

But now he had finally escaped the ramblings of the old monk and was on his way back from the abbey to his fathers house in the village. He could hardly wait to see the new books his father had brought with him from his last journey.     

Darkness had fallen allready and and the bright, not quite full moon basked everything in his silvery light. The stars looked down upon their reflections in the bright snow and frozen ponds scattered troughout the soft hills and valleys of southern france, making the snow glisten like billions of prescious diamonds. Lonely, solemn Willows stood by the ponds, their branches heavy with silver gleam and frozen like wheeping ghosts trapped in the unforgiving cold. Nevertheless he enjoyed the walk, his mind adrift in the beautyfull scenery.     

Then something caused him to halt his stride. A sound, faint but distinct in the freezing air. Hooves in full flight. Comming closer. Two horses. Panting heavily and doing their best not to stumble in the kneedeep snow. They were not coming along the path. The sounds were coming from behind a small hill to the right of him. The riders must have been unfamiliar with the terrain and lost the trail in the snow. As fast as he could he forced his way trough the snow. He followed the sounds up to the hills crest and watched out for the nightly travellers.     

A long, wild howl almost caused him to loose his footing with surprise. A pack of large wolves was almost upon the riders. They urged their steeds on with cries of fear and despair. Then a second howl came from the opposite side of the valley and filled the allready freezing air with icy dread. More beasts came down the hills to cut in with the route of their prey. The riders were trapped. And he could do nothing but watch. The wolves were the largest he had ever seen, there seemed to be six or seven of them and they were much faster and lighter than the heavy horses, wich now were almost up to their belleys in the freezing snow. The howls reached a high crescendo and then sank down again to dark and furious terror. Shivers ran down his spine as he watched one of the beasts tear into the first horse. These monsters must be starving to venture so near to a human village and to be attacking travelers. The high pitched whine of the first horse broke through the night like the scream of a childe and caused his blood to become like the snow, pure ice in his veins. The rider tried to leash at the wolf with his whip but to no avail. It only served to make the mad beast more angry and even more savage. A second wolf joined his companoin and sank his fangs deeply into the flank of the allready wounded steed. It toppled over and the rider fell to the ground. Within moments the wolves were upon him and tore into his flesh. His screams were cut off abruptly as one of the larger animals ripped out his throat, spattering his packmates with blood and wipping them into a feeding frenzy.     

The second horse bolted and threw down his rider at the sight of his fellow beeing ripped to shreds. The rider fell to the ground and vanished beneath a cloud of billowing snow. The wolves leapt into the back of the steed and ripped at his throat until it too died in agony.     

His heart filled with despair, he had come to late to help the two travelers, surely the second one would be dead within moments. There was nothing he could do for him.     

But the rider did not seem to be beaten yet. He picked himself up from the snowdrift and stood his ground against the approaching beasts. The wolves seemed almost reluctant to kill him as if they were unsure what to make of him or were taesing him with their presence. They snarled and barked and suddenly fell silent as the rider made a commanding gesture in their direction. The hood of the rider was thrown back and the eyes of the watching young man were drawn to the face of the most beautyfull thing he had seen in all his live.     

It was a woman.     

She shouted something towards the wolves and her commanding tone seemed to halt them in their tracks. Some of them still growled but most of them surprisingly rolled on their backs and showed their throats to the angelic abbaration. His gaze was drawn to her, he could not resist but look upon her perfection. To lift his gaze from this wonder would clearly tear a hole into his soul no amount of tears could fill. Suddenly he belived in Angels.     

And as if they too had found faith at this moment the wolves cowed before her. Whining and yelping in submission. Exept one of them. The largest of the pack. The Leader. He seemed to proud to be cowering before a human and stood firmly but with claerly depressed fury. In the light of the slowly wandering moon above his mane and fur almost seemed silver in color. Then the beast began to change.<be>

His heart raced. His mind seemed to crack with intense and agonyzing fear. He wanted to run. To get away from that scene of pure carnage. But the sight of the beautyfull woman held him at his point of silent and awed vigil upon the hill. His vision blurred and in the next moment a man stood before the angelic woman. Steaming with sweat and easily two heads larger than her he seemed to appear from within the deep snow. Slowly rising, like a giant made of ice, from his knees to his feet and gazing upon the woman with anger and fury written in his bearded features. His naked muscles flexed and moved with every deeply growled word he spat at her. His breast was wreaked with heavy breathing, expressing his difficulty not to submit to her. His will was not to be broken. Her answers were like orders and she seemed to be used to having every command obeyed emeieatly. Her words were filled with a force only known to him from the saints of the holy bible. The Giant turned to the wolves and growled at them. The beasts seemed reluctant to obey his command but as he barked something at them they got up from were they were lying and turend from the strange scene. Fleeing over the opposite hills into the night. As they were gone the giant warrior again spoke to the woman. His flow of silver hair glistening in the moonlight. He seemed to spew a curse upon the woman and then he turned from her. Allthewhile she had proudly stood her ground against him not even flinching at his rude words to her.     

His vision blurred again and a gigantic fist slammed down upon his heart almost stopping its pace. But it kept itself firmly going on the sight of the wonderfull creature wich filled it with awe.     

Then, were moments ago the proud warrior had stood, there was the large wolf again. Standing tall against the snow, slowly darkening with blood, and  finaly trotting after his packmates up the hills. As he vanished over the hills crest a howl errupted from the throats of the pack. Filled with shame and defeat it reached a fevers pitch and then again sank to a low menacing promise of fearsome retrebution and bloody revenge.     

Silence fell upon the valley like a blanket of death.     

He was able to move again. The „holy awe“ had fallen from him as the howl had supsided. The woman stood alone and lost amidst the carnage of dead horsers and companion, gazing fearfully after the wolves and then to the east at the direction of the dawn. He picked himself up from were he had knelt in the deep snow and slowly began his descend into the small valley towards the lone figure. At the sound of his approach she turned ,intently gazing into the darkness, surely expecting more wolves. As she recognized a human form her gaze spoke of astonishment and resentment. She nearly was as beautyfull as he had imagined her earlyer, for he truly must have imagined her beeing an Angel. No human could work such a miracle... or could she?       

She was quite tall for a woman, nearly reaching his hight. Her hair was black as a ravens wings and her eyes caught the moonlight in a truly memeorable way. Her skin seemed to shimmer in the faint glow. Despite the intense cold she wore only a light, dark red gown made from silk and gossammer, with a riders coat thrown over her naked shoulders. The wardrope of a noble woman. Exept she did not seem to be cold. Maybe her temper kept her warm for she spoke first to him.     

-„Who goes there? - Do you intend to finish what those beasts began? Are you a vigilante out for the treasures and the blood of a lonesome frightened woman? Then be asured that I am not so easily frightened and without defenses as it may seem to be the case. If you are but a peasant looking for something to loot from a fallen traveler then be asured that this is none of your business.“     

With these words a tone of true menace stole under her breath and he almost could have sworn he heard her growl softly. Reluctantly he aproached further, shaken by the fury in her voice but nonetheless intend on helping a woman in need. He was not a noble but a frenchman nonetheless.     

-„Bjen Avenúe Mademoiselle. Do not be to harsh in your judgement of strangers, for there are truly some who would come to the aid of a woman in dire need of help unasked. I myself are not of this ilk. If I may be so bold as to ask for your permission to be of assistance to you in this hour of need. I may be but a peasant, but your warm welcome showed me that you are truly a noble woman and shurely capable of fending for yourself. So if you do not accept my beg then I will leave you to your `business´ and go my way as I intended.“     

A hint of sarcasm never hurt to bring down angered spirits. He turned his back to her and made as if to walk back up the hill. And as he had expected he caught a look of absolute surprise on her face as he turned and only moments later felt her hand on his arm. Begging for help and cold.     

-„Non, excusé moi Monsieur. Please stay. - I beg you, pardón. - Surley you could help me find a safe haven for this night and the next day.“     

-„Ah, naturelement Mademoiselle. But are you sure you would trust a mere peasant to guide you to a truly safe place? It is a nice night and the scenery is quite pleasant. Are you sure you would come with me to a nearby inn and leave all this behind ?“     

He spread his arms wide, taking in his gesture the already cooling corpses of the steeds and her companion, the slowly freezing blood creating dark patches of horrible memories in the glistening snow.     

Now her mouth was agape and she stared at him with such a look of surprise and hurt pride on her face that he had to smile. As she relized that he had only payed her his dept for her rude welcome, a hint of admieration stole into her gaze and she smiled up to him. She had called him a mere paesant and a vigilante and he was right to be a little angered at her.     

-„Well, you are right. If you would be so nice and show me to that inn you mentioned. Maybe you are inclined to acompany me on the journey and afterwards so I can thank you for your kind advice and offer you a reward in return.“, her voice dripped with barely hidden sarcasm.     

-„I am not interrested in you money or anything else. But if you must reward me you could do so with your company and stories of the far Capital and news of other courts. You would make a lowly poet very happy.“     

She raised an eyebrow and nodded.     

-„Oh, Quí. I could tell you of other courts and of other countries and their capitals, if you wish so...“, she took his Arm and began to lead him away from the grisly scene.     

He followed her and soon they were on their way to the village.     

-„Hrmpf... you li´l bass´ard....,.... on´like u does not deserve a w´men like her. Arrogant bass´ard. Thin´s he´s somethin´ bedder th´n us.... *burb*“     

The heavily drunken Farmer had begun to spit obscenitys in their direction the moment they had entered the Inn together. He and his two friends were the only customers at this late hour. The innkeeper and one of his servant maids a girl of about thirteen years, endured their company out of nesiety to have a few Luidores more for the evening. And it seemed that these guys had paid well to get into their current state of drunken stuppor.     

The two unusual custumers had spoken shortly to the Inkeeper and he had ensured them a room and a meal for the night, after the woman had lain a golden coin in front of him. Her careless way of handling money made his stomach chrun in agony. Did she not know of the dangers one faced in such rural areas when handling to much money to openly? He made a mental note to remark that subjekt on her later in the evening. First he wanted to have a decent meal inside his empty guts. And for that she had paid more than enough in her carelessness. As the newly arrived made their way to a table as far as possiple away from the noisy Serfs, the three eyed them suspisiously. A woman in fine and expensive garb accompanying the son of a well known Trader made for a sight not often seen in such quaters. The biggest of them, his bodily odor and the little wet eyes in his rather unpleasant face  would have made every female pork on his farm go mad with lust, came over to their table. His walk a heavy stomp as to accomodate for the constand swaying wich was caused by the cheap brand drowning his brain in a cloudy white haze. He placed his large hands heavily on the table and begann to spew forth his wrath at them, wrapped in a cloud of stinking almost noxious breath. The young man stood up to show the serf away, but she beat him to it. The features of the young noble woman never changed as she seemingly untouched by his obsceneties stared right into the eyes of the farmer and announced in a flat and rather disinteressend tone:     

-„Sit down on your table and keep quite.“     

The large man stared at her for a long moment,  them mutered something incomprehendable. He turned and slowly walked back to his comrades who were regarding him with much surprise and astonishement. He had been ordererd to keep quite by a WOMAN?!     

Now they were talking amongst themself and the fat one was shaking his head as if to clear away the fog that enshourded his drunken brain. The Inkeeper smiled at his new customers and brought them two mugs of wine. Then he went over to the farmers and gave them a long stare. As if to announce his dissaproval over the uncouth incindent. He bent over their table and began a hushed exchange of words.     

-„They´re not finished with us.“, she said. „The Keeper is in leaque with these Brutes. They´re already discussung what to do with our money. They plan to ambush us in our room and to kill you. My fate shall be not this quite nor that fast I fear. The Keeper is arguing to your benefit, for he knows your father, but the others are indifferent. Right now one of them is prompting not to wait any longer and to do the deed right here and to have the maid join in the fun with me.“     

At this moment a slap sounded through the dim interior of the inn. One of the serfs held his face and gave the Keeper an angry stare.     

He was rather surprised to hear these words from her. How could she hear the words that were spoken serveral feet away on the other side of the inn? Before he could say anything in response she announced     

-„They´re comming for us now. Ready yourself for a fight my friend.“     

She remained seated her back to the serfs but gestured for him to get up and in front of the large fireplace. He tried to move as casual as possible and went over to the blazing fire. Staring into it he tortured his brain for an explanation of her strange behavior. Maybe she had hit her head whilst falling off her steed? Maybe she was a madwoman? Or a Witch? Maybe the encounter with those wolfs had caused her mind to fail?     

Something itched inside of his mind. The wolfs... There had been something about the wolfs...     

He pushed the thought aside with a fearfull shiver and continiued his musings about her state of mind. Maybe, if she had realy heard those words, what if...     

A strange bubbling noise caught his attention. It sounded like a liquid boiling over a fire, but there was no kettle in the fireplace. The Sound was almost as if a child had put a hollow straw into a pond and was now bubbling the water. The he heard her voice:     

-„Petty Muggers! Who do they think they have before themselves?!“     

He turned.     

And almost froze inTerror.     

One of the two smaller serfs was standing before his angel. Clutching at his throat with a bright red hand. Blood ran like water between his cramped fingers trying to stop the red river wich flowed from his torn out windpipe. Small bubbles came forth from between his fingers as he desperately tried to breathe properly. But to no awail. He gargled and choked a few times then fell foreward on his face. He twitched and then lay still. Underneath him a red puddle, getting bigger and bigger with each passing moment.<br)

His companions stared silent shock at he grisly scene. The young woman that had just murdered their friend only stared back at them. Cold and indifferent like the snow out in the fields. In her left hand she held a rusty knife wich she had taken from her assilant. The blade was clean exept for the rust. Her face was pale like ivory and only a tiny red dot on her left cheek broke the image of a devlishly cold china doll. Slowly she raised her right hand to her face. It was covered in blood. Sluggishly it dropped to the floor. Regarding it with sparkling eyes she began turnig her hand in a slow arc to keep the precious drops of the vile liquid from falling down. Then before the unbeliving eyes of her audience she slowly let out her toung and in a lasting, deliberate, sensous motion licked the red drops from her palm and fingers. Then she regarded the serfs.     

And laughed.     

The maid was the first to regain her conscious thoughts. Her scream tore through the dumpfolded minds of all present. Like they had been freed from a spell the other two would be muggers stormed through the room. The big one knocking down tables and chairs on his way to the fireplace. To him.     

He folowed the first thought wich came to his mind and grabbed a burning log from the fire, throwing it right at the advancing behemoth. The large man was unable to detour his rampage and with a loud yelp of pain and flayling arms he was hit square in the chest by the blazing log. His cheap Booze drenched clothes instantly caught fire and bellowing his rage and pain he stomped through the Inn, trying desperately to quench the flames on his chest with his pare hands.     

The second man carefully advanced on the noble woman, wicked looking knifes protrouting from both of his fists. She just smiled at him.     

And then suddenly stood behind him. Faster than the eye could see she she grabed him from behind and lifted him up. His mouth dropped open in astonishement and pain as his neck was slowly crushed beneath her iron hard fingers. Her nails dug deeply into his soft flesh drawing blood and slowly crushing the bones of his spinal column. His struggling ceased abrubtly as, with a final flick of her wrist, she tore through the soft tissue and brittle bone of his neck. Severing the connection of Brain and body. Then with an almost dancelike fluid motion she threw his limp body against the far wall. His skull giving a sharp popping sound as it slammed against the solid wood. Leaving a bright red smear, the dead body, almost languishly, slid to the floor.     

All this happened within a few short moments.     

The young maid still screamed and now the words „Witch“ and „Demon“ had found their way into her hysteric rantings. This had to wake the villagers.     

The Inkeeper shouted something like an order to shut up to the girl an began fishing for something hidden under his desk. He produced a big curved knife and made as to jump over his bar. But the demon was faster. Out of nowhere she appeared behind the struggling man and grabbed him by his hair slamming his head into the polished wood of the desk with a almost playfull motion. His face shattered and left tiny bits of fragmented bone between the wooden splinters as he slid down behind his workplace.     

The fat one in the meantime had managed to extinquish the flames on his body and know stood there like a demon from Hell. His face and hands red and covered with blisters and his clothes still smoldering and smoking. As he took a look unto his fallen friends and listened to the screams of the girl, something akin to realisation dawned on his pigish face. Slowly he edged his way backwards to the far door. But to no awail. Again she was much faster than the human. In a Blurr, as fast as a hawks dive down from the sky for its prey, she was behind him. Barring his way to the safety outside. Still laughing like the devil herself she stood there and held out a hand in front of the great mans bulk. He stopped. With an expression reminding of a rabbit, who knows of the impending doom waiting behind his back in form of the snake that had crept up on him and had just sunk her teeth into his back. His bewilderment only showing in his dropped and drooling jaw.     

She almost seemed fragile and small against his massive and still smoking form. Like a dark dove before a great ox. But her stance betraied her true intentions. She stood there like a predator ready to strike. Every bit the noble woman and the cold blooded beast. She locked her gaze with his tiny eyes and his jaw dropped a few inches more. Spittle running down on his smoldering chest. Motionless he stood there and she came to him. Reaching up and placing her hands on his cheeks she ordered him to kneel before her.     

The big man did as he had been told and sank to his knees. His face know level with hers. She held his head in her hands. Almost like a lover admiring the features of a loved one she caressded his cheeks and began to hum a tune between slightly parted lips. With her eyes closed she begann to sway before him lifting her face to the ceiling and forcing his frightened masque to follow her motion. Now he found his voice again and begann to babble incoherently. The words God, Devil and Mercy found their way out of his throat. He was praying. But neither God nor devil answered his plea. Only the dark Angel before him was there to grant him relieve. And that she did. One last time she looked into his eyes and softly continued her humming as if to ease a frightened childs fears.     

Then with a loud snap she wrenched his head around and made his face look away from her. His mouth slowly shut and opened for the last time like that of a fish caught on dry land. Than he dropped foreward on his belly. His muscles twitching and jerking uncontrolled in vain atempts to flee, his eyes still staring at the grime covered ceiling, he gave one last gurgling sigh and died.     

The maid know screamed even louder and no more did she have sufficient words to describe her horror. The noble Woman watched her. Hunger gleaming in her eyes. Slowly deliberately she strode towards the young girl.     

       -„Be still and do not move!“             

She told the girl and it imediately obeyed. Still like a puppet she stood there and the dark angel aproached her like a great cat its prey. Slowly she circled the girl and with sensous hands began to touch her. The eyes of the girl seemed to be the only parts on her that were able to move and they folowed every movement of the cold hands on her lithe body, inaudibly screaming in spiritual pain. The hands of the monster were everywere. Touching parts that never had expirienced the pleasuer of anothers caress. Than her dark lover was behind her. Touching her neck with fingertips like needles made of ice. Cold lips touched her young flesh, a toung flicked out and drew a thin snowwhite moist line upon the dirty marble of her skin. Her body tensed and begann to shiver like under intense pleasure. But it was panik that caused the spasms in her muscles. Sheer and utter terror fought with feelings never before known. The instinct to flee fought a desperate fight against a much older force, that same force wich had brought the urge into the world millenia ago. And lost. She stood still like a flower rooted to the floor. All the while a long red tounge had licked an area of her neck clean from the grime of work and life in the gutters of society. Two long daggerlike fangs protrouted from the upper jaw of his dark angel and with a quick sharp jab she drew two tiny pints of blood into the snow covered valey of the girls lower neck. He realised that she was looking at him as if to test his mettle against such an obscene display of develish power and hunger. But he held his ground. The girl too stared at him. Pleading for help and her eyes filled with unparalelled horror and mute despair as he did nothing to come to her aid.     

Than the noble bit down on the girls neck and her motionless struggle ceased. It almost seemed as if some strange ecstasy had taken hold of her young body. She moaned and her breath became slow but forcefull. A shiver came over her form and her hands began to sensously caress the body of the woman behind her. No more was there any urge to flee, just unparalelled and never before known pleasure that she wanted to last for eternity. Her dark lover kissed her neck and never let go of her holding her tight and save. Then her motions became sluggish and slow. Her arms dropped to her sides and her legs bent in the knees, her whole body going limp with one last sigh of deadly pleasure.     

His dark Angel let go of the corpse and looked into his eyes. Her blazing gaze forcing its way into his soul and holding it tight.     

-„You are quite valorous. I must say. Know then that no mortal, who bore vitness to what I have done just now, before you, had even had the guts to stay dry in his already filthy pants. Every last one of them turned and fled, as they noticed what they were facing. They fled, but in vain. I came to all of them. I caught them in mid flight. I came to their beds, in wich they were lying, drenched in their foul sweat and piss. I came to them right into their churches, were they thought themselves save from my wrath. All of them fled. Fled from their nights mare. From the only proove that they were not in fact the hight of creation, as their God had promised them. There is more in the world then those stuffed Priests, Cardinals and Popes can get a hold of within their feelble minds. They glance at the truth but it always remains out of their sight. For those horrors are as real as are their wonders and holy saints. Humans create their own horrors. Devils and witches. With tales of those they try to explain the unexplainable. They tell tales of my kind as well, but not with so much abandon as of the Warlocks wich curse their crops or spoil their food. We are the creatures of the night. Those who are better not spoken of. Only few know of us and survive. And a few of us have come to aknowledge these, as hunters or as friends and complices. I must say that I for once admiere the bravery of a man who can overcome his ancestral fear and gaze upon my unveiled beeing.“     

She then placed a gentle kiss upon his lips. Flushed with stolen warmth as they were. He licked a few drops of precious blood from them her gentle touch had left behind and tasted the live of the joung maid. A rusty and heavy taste. But filled with exitemend and promise of undreamt wonders. The wonders of the world he so admired and longed to see. A taste of strange coasts and foreingn Countries. He looked into her eyes and saw there the scapes of lost citys and the skies of lands unknown. Lands that his mortal eyes would never see for themselves.     

Unless...     

-„Help me.“, he said.     

Her face showed unchecked surprise.     

-„What? Did I not just spare your live? Save it to be right? I could as well take it if it took my fancy. And you beg of me to help you? I do not understand. Explain.“     

It was an Order, not a request. Her gaze never left his eyes and he explained.     

Her eyes grew wide as he ended his tale. Her bewonderment clearly showing in her faetures. But before she could say a word the door of the Inn was slammed inwards and crushed to the floor. Two bid men came hurtling after it. Their Shoulders against the wood and their momentum carrying them much to far into the room. As they struggeld to regain their balance angryly shouting voices from the outside told of rage and burning torches. Very suddenly the young man and his dark dove were reminded of the carnage that surrounded them. Broken Bodys lay strewn across the floor of the Inn like discarded bloody puppets.     

He felt her Arms around his waist. Felt himself beeing lifted of the ground and carried off into a blurr of motion and swirling colors. The cold crushed down on him like the hammer of an avanging god. He gasped for breath and found no voice to speak. The air rushed by him almost to fast to breathe. He heard nothing he could discern. Only the rush of the cold air. And then his feet touched ground again. Air was back in his lungs. Cold. Stinging like a million daggers. He cept his eyes closed but knew they were somewhere outside in the village. Maybe behind a barn or a small cottage. His head spunn and almost he lost his balance but firm hands stadied him and the cool voice of his deadly Angel spoke to him.     

-„Do you realy want this? I am not risking my existence for the fancies of a young boy who knows nothing about what he is begging from me.         Do you really want it!?<b/>“     

-„Y... Yes!“, he stammered. But the as his lungs became acustomed to the outside air he spoke more forcefully and with more confidence.     

-„        Yes!       “     

She then came close to him. He felt her lips on his neck. He felt a sudden rush of unbaerable pleasure and exqusite pain. He herd his own voice moan. Felt his deadly dove enshroud him in her silken, bloodsoaked wings. Felt himself beeing drawn into her dark shining from before his minds eye. He had already tasted the love to women but it was nothing against this. It was as if an Agel and a Demon both togehter pressed their lips opun his flesh. Sweet and fiery painfull and lulling. He felt every drop of his live drain into her. Felt every beat of his heart wich pumped the precious liguid over her tender, cruel lips. Felt her gratefullness for the strength he gave her and for the confidence he had placed in her. Her reward would be Eternity.       

Then - nothing.     

There was light. Beautyfull and warm. Promissing peace and forgiveness. Beconning him and greeting him.     

Then came the pain.     

The pain. It was unparalelled by what any mortal had expirienced in every livetime ever lived. Claws made of red hot iron tore into his very beeing and soul and rend it apart, kept him from reaching the light. A thousand tiny pieces of his self drifted upon a searing wind back down into the cruel unforgiving world. Only to be made wohle again. To be forced down into a dying almost liveless body. He now felt how his heart stopped beating. One last beat and then it lay painfully still. A stone in his chest. Unmoving and unfeeling. His breathing stopped. His last breath left his Body with a sigh as loud as a doves gentle wings. Blood spilled over his lips. Burnig and freezing like hellfire itself.  He allready had tasted human love, but this was something entirely else. It was as if an Angel and a Demon at once pressed their Lips against his Body, biting and caressing at the same time. The Angel gave his parting Kiss, the Demon swallowed his heart. It was like nothing he had ever felt before, yet he welcomed it. He welcomed the dark essence wich now took over hs body and soul, for it would make him her equal.     

He opened his eyes and saw her looming figure over his body.     

-“ Hush, my darling. Don´t struggle. It will only hurt the more.”     

And the Pain came, as feces and lately taken Meal forced their way out off his now undying body. At the same time as he was still writhing in agony at her feet he became aware of a dark and silent shadow wich slowly crept up on his new Mother from behind. A menacing Figure came out of the darkness. Holding a Club with both hands and starining not to make a sound. The pain did not permit him to speak and her whole thoughts were focussed on her new begotten Childe.     

The wooden Club made a loud cracking noise as it hit the back of her head. The blow surely would have killed any human soul but she merely gave a groan of surprise and dazed by the sudden impact spun around. But not fast enough to avoid another blow. She dropped to her knees and a shrill moan escaped her dead lungs.     

 Pure Terror gave the farmer the sternght he needed to beat her down, again and again. He did not stop and begann calling out for help against that Monster wich had just before his eyes killed another young man. He had found them by sheer luck and he hoped he was not to late to save the life of the merchants Son.     

The young Vampire heard the call for aid issued by the lone farmer and struggled to gain conciousness again. They came. Four of them. They were shouting his Name and that of the farmer who had “saved” him.  The fell upon her like the wolves had attacked her horses earlyer that same night. All he could hear was the soft, wet thuds of clubs beating down on his belovedth flesh. He screamed for them to stop. He begged for her life to be spared. But no sound escaped his undead lips. His body still frozen in the Change that death had brought upon him. He roared in agony as he could do nothing to save her exept listen to his own screams in his own head and  and her low moans of agony that slowly faded and finaly stopped. As the Mob cleared his Angels still body he had regianed as much of his composure and stability to fool them into thinking he was merely harmed by the Monster but not too sevrely hurt. Slowly he reached for the nearby Wall and pulled himself up on it. As he was standing the came deeper into dark Alleyway. He was ready now. He was full of anger. He was HUNGER! They came for him and he greeted them with open arms.     

The first one he almost bit in half. Diving for the Mans throat and sucking at his Jugular with feral brutality. The second one he slammed into the near Wall, breaking his spine. The third and the fourth went flying out of the alley to the dark frozen street. They hit the road with audible cracks. The fifth ran, screaming for help. He had to hurry.     

He  bent over his Mothers broken body, smelling the rich scent of her Blood forming a puddle on the dark frozen earth. It called out to him. Beconned him to taste it and to help her. Help her gain Life again. He looked into her broken eyes and and saw a last flicker of understanding. A small smile seemed to part her torn lips. Her smashed Ribcage quivered in anticipation and her sensous, mauled hand reached out for him one last time. He ripped away the  remaining shreds of her govn and beheld her crimson beauty. As he buried his face in her chest she stardeled her newborn Son.     

Now he was alone again. Alone in a World that was at once his own and entierly new to him. He was on the run. They were chasing him. He had killed. More than once. And he would kill again. He was still himself and more. He had Power. He would leran to controll it. He was himself and less. He was Beast. He was Hunger. But he would controll the beast. He would controll the Hunger. He was not going to kill anyone of them again now. He had to get away and form a new life for himself. From the Ashes of his old life and that of his Mother. He had left her for the Wind to blow her remains away. He would run now. He had gained enough strength from hhis last murder that he could easyliie escape his pursuers. He turned away from them into the darkness. He had become what he wanted to be. A man who would see the world with the eyes of eternity. He would see every Part of it. And he would carry a part of his mother with him to wherever he went. He was not the cold Monstrosity that she had been, but he was her son. He was Part of her. She was Part of him. But he was still himself.       

The Man called Gustave de´ Taranier.     

So he went into the night.     

Loney.     

Newborn     

Innocent.