"Pools Of Blood" by Lain Sakuraba

Pools of Blood

Lain Sakuraba

My name is Jovian. Easy for the mouth to swallow, Jo-vi-an. But my undead life is not easy to understand, or swallow. But lets say we start with the good old days, huh? I will show you a memory of mine, from exactly one month before my death. This is what I was like alive.

“All I’m saying is that she is hot. Okay? Leave me alone, I don’t know her well enough yet!”

“Ah come on Jovian! Ask her out! You want to hug her, you want to kiss her, and you want to love her!!!”

I punched Mercy in the head, but we both knew it was a joke because I really did want to ask her out.

“You know, maybe I should. Show her how kind the students here are.”

The girl we were discussing was Sheila. She was beautiful, with brown hair that fell almost shoulder length and had golden streaked bangs. Her eyes were black, coal black, showing no emotion, no feelings. Her smile was filled with perfect white teeth, and her nose was centered perfectly on her face.

“There she is… Go ask her now, I dare ya!”

I turned to her, and as I did, she turned her pretty eyes to me and said, “My answer is yes, Jovian. The movies on Friday sound great!” And with that she was gone, lost in the crowd of students, leaving me with a rather shocked expression on my face.

“Wow. She’s good at that!” Mercy exclaimed with a loud voice, making me jump.

“Dude, switch to decaf!” Brita was suddenly there, her brown eyes staring at me like a puppy dogs.

“What do you want Brita? Shouldn’t you be someplace else?”

“You know, just because your older than me doesn’t mean you can always boss me around. Oh and here. Mom said for you to buy dinner tonight.” She shoved a few crumpled bills into my hand then walked into her class, looking annoyed.

Quickly I counted the money and saw that I had enough for a fourth persons dinner. I went again in search of Sheila.

That is probably my favorite memory out of all those that I have saved in my mind. And now, I take you to the night I died. These memories shall be with me forever, the good the bad and the horrible. I can never escape my mind.

His end was near even I could see that. The old mans face was a ghastly white and his hair was a coal black. He lies there, staring death in the eye and spoke to me.

“Jovian? Come to me.”

Before I could express my shock at the old mans knowing my name, I was drawn towards him until I could touch the man. His hands grasped mine and no longer were we in a London alley, but in a tower, one of the tallest in London. And no more were the old man an old man, but a young healthy one.

“How…”

“Questions can wait. All you kneed to know now is that I am Seath and I am your past, your present and your future.”

He lurched at me then, and screaming I tried to free myself but found this to be hopeless. Despite my screaming and thrashing he pounced on me and held me lightly.

“Fool. At first they all try to run. But now you will see.”

Those were the last words I heard before I died.

Seath bent over me and bit my neck, and it took a full five seconds before I knew what was happening to me.

“VAMPYR!!!”

Returning my scream with a dirty look he slit his own wrist letting the blood drip into my mouth. At first, I refused it. Then the sensation became too strong. I wanted blood. I leapt at his wrist and began sucking and taking in his warm, thick blood. His blood cascaded through me, like a waterfall it started in my throat and made it’s way down to the rest of me, warming me, waking up my sense.

“You are a Vampyr now Jovian. You must always remember 3 things. 1. You are immortal but for two things, the fires in hell and the suns of Earth. 2. Never drink so much that you make the victims heart stop, if you do you shall suck their death into your own body and then you too shall be lost. 3. You are a child of the night. Use your power.

“With these words, I leave you my child. Do not forget what I have told you.”

With a turn, Seath was gone. In complete shock and mourning I wept. I wept for my family and friends whom I could never again see. And I wept for myself, my non-living self that would never again see the light of day.

I stole into the night, my hunger driving me away. I came quickly across a small house with an old man living inside. Tethered to the fence was a single horse. I decided that this house, this place, would be my first kill. Silently I crept into the house, wanting the old man’s eyes to shine with fear and fright. The old man was not in a bed, but instead sat upon a rocker, with his back to me. Sensing nothing, he continued to rock until I pounced. Screaming in terror the old man began to beat me with his walking stick. Almost as if it was a toothpick I picked it up and snapped it. His eyes became wide and horrified and no longer he did scream, rather stare in fright, and then began to murmur the old crucifixes. At first I was frightened and then realized that these words, these seemingly religiously pure words, and no effect on me. I was Jovian the Vampyr. Jovian the Devil. Nothing could harm me. Thus becoming clear in my mind I snapped the old mans neck and drank my fill before tossing him to burn in his own fire. Laughing as I watched his flesh melt away and his blood spill into the fire to begin bubbling and boiling and I realized it was time to test my senses. To see just how far this new power would take me.

I leapt out of the house and rather than run, I hopped onto the horse that was tethered to the fence post. The horse was naturally frightened, animals can sense the dead better than humans can. Alas, this horse had but little chance as I forced it to a gallop. But as I rode to the city, a light began to creep over the far away hills. I turned and rode swiftly back to my castle in the sky. Upon reaching the castle I discovered something I had not before noted. In the back lie a stable, empty but for a single farm boy.

“You! Farm Boy!”

“Yes sir?”

“I am your new master. You shall do as I say.”

“Yes Master”

“Take this horse and tie him up. Be sure that he is cared for properly.”

With those words I turned and left for my castle, and up to the tall tower of my birth. As I entered I saw a stone cold coffin lying in the middle of an ice cold room. Using my new strength I lifted the lid and sank into the coffin.

Rising the following night I entered the city. As I had not done the night before, I tested my powers now. I could see further than a hawk! Things hundreds of miles away could be seen clearly. Stars millions of miles up seemed almost touchable. I could run faster and leap higher than ever before in my life. Rooftops were cleared easily in a single leap and I could bounce between the tallest buildings in the city without hesitation. My taste buds had all but left me, with only one remaining. One taste bud that made my mouth water. The taste for blood. And touch! To be able to touch! As I touched things I suddenly understood them. Grasping doorknobs, I could feel the sweat and blood that went into the making. Brushing past table tops I could feel the individual grains in the wood, I could almost see the tree it once was. But my favorite new sense was hearing for I could hear all. Normal voices were magnified to ten times the normal volume. And I could hear other things also, unspoken words of the living and the dead. To my surprise the dead did have thoughts. The final thoughts that they died with. But I could also hear live thoughts. Those who had open thoughts they were easy to hear. But those with locked minds, souls and hearts became harder and harder to penetrate. In the end I always won. Each kill was glorious and gave me ever-lasting life. Humans became almost pitiful in a way. I could sneak up on anyone of them faster then they could sneak up on each other. Each breath they took in turn fed me.

And feed on them I did, returning only to my castle to sleep the day away. Yet as I awoke one night the stable boy was in the sitting room, waiting for me to rise.

“Sir, I have a message for you.”

“Go on then, read it!”

“Jovian,

What has happened to you these days? Why can we not find you when we drop by your house? I have sent this message with the best in London he will find you. Please, Jovian, if you still live please contact us. We miss you greatly.

Your mother, Miyu.”

Laughing I shredded the note. I had no family, and I was a long way from being “Alive.” But as I laughed, something else began to happen. Shrieks filled the room, some high, others low. I began to run, to dizzy myself for these shrieks hurt my ears, my delicate hearing. Finally when I could no longer stand it I let out a horrifying scream that echoed off all the walls until at last there was no more screams. I lifted my head and saw an image that this shrieking allowed me to see for only a moment. She was beautiful, that she was. Brown hair nearly to her shoulders and coal black eyes, so full of life.

“I am the image of Sheila. I am waiting for you.”

Without a trace she materialized into nothing.

“Nooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” I bellowed, running towards the spot where my hallucination had once stood.

There was nothing. The shrieking thing had left, and with it Sheila. Thousands of questions burned in my mind. Who was she? What did she represent? Where had she come from, where was she waiting? What the **** was that shrieking thing? Would it come back?

I could feel in my bones the daylight that drew near so I silently left, hoping for a quick kill. Quick kill it was not, for it took me nearly an hour to find a decent meal. My search left me in a churchyard with sun rising over the near by peaks. Seeing no other choice I stepped into the church expecting the hand of God to strike me at any moment, and yet it did not.

Relief cascaded through my blood, but left as the sun peaked through the stained illusions on the windows. At the alter there lie a stone crypt, no doubt used for services. Seeing no other choice I dove in and pulled the top shut, seconds before the sun hit the very spot I had stood seconds before. I lie down inside of that religious crypt and let sleep wash over me like an ocean wave.

Awakening at dusk was unpleasant, as I listened to a voice above speak of a God.

“****.” I swore, realizing where I was and what was going on around me. Hunger drove me to the conclusion, not at all surprising, that I had to get out now.

Throwing back the lid and bursting from the stone crypt it was hard to tell whom I had frightened more, the preacher or the people. As the voice had become clear I had hear “We are the only Holy Church remaining. In joining us you have saved yourself from a fate worse than death, for no evil can enter the walls of this place. The last remaining place the Devil and his minions cannot penetrate.”

I must say, when I emerged I must have looked like Lucifer himself, for after not eating for more than 48 hours my skin had paled to an almost transparent white and my eyes a bloodshot red. Fleeing in a blind terror the congregation fled leaving me with a trembling preacher.

“You can’t be here! It’s impossible!”

“Impossible? I think not, for I am not Satan, Yet I shall serve Satan until my tragic demise.”

“Well if you’re not Satan, what are you?”

“Funny that it’s what and not who… Ah well you foolish mortal you shall find out in due time.”
          Backing away to a wall in fright the fool tried to run. Yet strong and fast as I was, it was no contest. He was fallen before he even tried to rise. Sinking my teeth into his wrist I looked up with blood dripping down my chin and spoke in a hellish tone of voice.

“I am the Night Childe of the Eternal Darkness. I am the Demon of Starlight. I am your greatest fear, worship and adore me. I hold command over light and dark. No one can stop me, no man, no god, no prince.”

The look in his eyes as I lowered my mouth to the main artery of his neck will follow me forever. The look of pure terror and fear, the look of pain and suffering.

As I drank I noticed how delicious each blood cell was, how rich and thick each gulp tasted. How warm each cell was, slowly dripping down my throat. Pushing him away to let his heart die on his own may have been the hardest thing I have ever done, yet it must be done.

Now full on blood I set out again to explore. After only a few hours it became clear to me that London was not the place for me. Every where I turned there were Vampyrs glaring at me, and the small shrieking noises now seemed as familiar as the cool breath of wind on my face. Finally, unable to bear any longer, I began to search for a new home. I knew I couldn’t go back to my castle. The money that was there would stay there until found. I had no need for the trivial issues of money, not when I was dead.

I went down to the one place in England where I had never taken time to thoroughly examine. The port, the pier, the waterfront. The few times I had ventured this direction I observed the ships coming and going. To my pleasure there was a ship nearly ready to deport. Next to the ship was a large pile of coffins. This was odd, for large ships typically cars, not bodies. And when they DO carry bodies, they typically were alive.

“It’s a death ship.”

Jumping out of my skin I spun to see who my tormenter was. Much to my surprise it was somebody I knew terribly well.

“You recognize me. When you stopped writing, I grew worried. I sent a Private Investigator out to find out… He told me you were dead.”

“But…”

“As you can see, I am here now, and you seem to be alive. Or perhaps you were given the same gift of eternal life that I was.”
          “No…”

“Yes. I am Miyu, your mother. Although not your Sire, disappointedly enough. And look who I found as I was coming here! She seems rather fond of you, can’t imagine why though…”

 At that moment Sheila stepped from the shadows looking frightened, young and beautiful. As she did it all clicked. The shrieks had been my mother’s pain at the news of my death. The hallucination of Sheila had been meant to cause me pain and suffering, as it had. And now mother intended to kill her to deepen the pain she had caused. 

“Now you will pay for leaving me!!!”
          Like an image from a horror novel, she picked up a knife enclosed in her folds of clothing and struck Sheila’s perfect heart. And as I had predicted, the pain in my body was enormous, like my heart was being ripped directly from it and cut it’s self.

“How could you?”
          “Does one Mortal matter so, even in your time of demise?”

“My time of…what the hell are you talking about now?”

“The only way to kill you is with fire, right? Being the childe of Seath and all…”

“Of course! Oh ****…”
          No sooner had the words left my mouth then my mother charged at me, torch in hand. Leaping from building to building, my pain grew, knowing that in order to end this hellish game of tag one of us would have to prevail in the end.

The only way she could kill me was fire, which was what she was trying to do. But how could I kill her? What could I use?

And finally it hit me. I would have to use the same bit of fire she intended to use on me. She was fueled by hatred, so that was all that would work. As she stood before me, finally because I had stopped running, she began to smile. She thought she had won.

“I’m sorry you know, but it’s for your own good.”
          “Oh and I’m sure you’ll use that on yourself once you’ve killed me.”
          “Of course not! Fool…just as foolish as those Mortals.”

She suddenly charged at me, fire and all in a straight line. At the last second, the second before eternal death when they say your life flashes before your eyes I dodged it. She fell off the tall building we had stood on, failing her arms as she fell stories upon stories. Alas, as she fell the hem of her dress caught fire. As oxygen only fuels fire, as she fell it grew. More and more painful I must imagine, but I was lucky it wasn’t me. Finally she was only a small speck of fire blazing on the ground.

Lost in grief over Sheila’s demise and loosing mother, I looked for a coffin amongst the pile. Finally finding one marked “Funeral over, bury upon receiving” only made my internal pain worse, as this person obviously didn’t have people who cared… Just as I didn’t anymore.

With a sinking heart I opened it and lowered myself inside preparing for a long slumber under the cold hard ground.