Alcingeria

Chapter Eight: A Daring Plan

Chapter Eight A Daring Plan:

Wednesday June 23rd 1690

"Alright. I'm going to hand you the jars. I need you to put them on the ground somewhere out of the way so we can tip the shelf over and break the legs off. Do you think you can do that?" Asked Don.

"Shadow, I'm an experienced thief," I grinned, "not a butter fingered child."

"Well, we don't call you 'Kid' for nothing." Robert chimed in.

"Yes, yes. I understand; my alias suits me. Now, let's do our job and get out of here."

"Right then, time to move this stuff out of our way."

Macalister reached up to the shelf and started grabbing jars from the uppermost part of the shelf. He took two in each hand and handed them to me.

"How's it going?" Asked Don quietly from across the room.

Macalister stopped and turned to talk to Don.

"Good, we've almost cleared the shelf out. Is there any sign of Ignacio?"

"Not even a footstep. He must be asleep."

"That's good," Macalister nodded, "we need to finish up quickly, in case he wakes up and finds us trying to escape."

He resumed passing me the jars of blood and I placed them behind me. Each time I looked at the viscous red liquid within the jars, my stomach turned.

"This is disgusting!" I whispered to Macalister.

"I know. We're almost done."

He handed me the last one.

I reached out and hastily grabbed the jar of blood from Macalister, but in the dim light of the room I misjudged my reach and my fingertip hit the jar. Feeling that I had touched it, Macalister let go, thinking I'd grabbed it. The jar began falling towards the floor.

"Shit!" I cried in a fierce whisper.

I scrambled to grab the falling jar, but it was no use. A second later, it hit the floor and smashed, sending glass fragments and blood everywhere while producing the piercing sound of glass shattering. Fear spread throughout my mind and seemed to paralyze my limbs. I didn't even dare to breathe. I heard no footsteps above. Maybe Ignacio didn't hear it?

"No one move!" Robert quietly ordered from across the room.

Just then, the sound of shattering wood filled the air, light flooded in and Don and Robert were sent sailing across the room. They both hit the ground and stood up when they landed at the other end, ready for a fight.

"It's Ignacio!" Don shouted.

I looked to the vampire, his cloak was still on and his hood still obscured the upper half of his face. He stood with his feet planted, obviously intending to be an obstacle, but his body language was contradictory, as though he was indifferent.

"Yes, it's me." He said dryly. "You're trying to escape, aren't you?"

"Why wouldn't we?" I yelled. "Is this the first time your prey has risen against you?"

"Don't flatter yourself," he grinned. "This is hardly an uprising. Four little mice in a hole, with the cat bearing down on them. I'd say that it's more of an impending slaughter."

"By the way, how's your thirst?" Don asked. "I'll bet it's a little distracting."

Ignacio was silent for a second or two. It was as if he was pondering something.

"Well now that you mention it, my thirst is returning. Which one of you wishes to die first?" He asked, his posture turning a little more hostile.

"It'll be you who dies first!" Shouted Macalister.

"Well, it seems as though I must kill you all by force," he shrugged apathetically, "I was looking forward to the systematic approach; it makes things so much easier, but so be it. Come on then, let's see what you've got in store for me."

"Come on, lads!" Robert shouted. "Ignacio isn't going to claim any lives today! Let's give him all we've got!"

"You. I'll claim your life first, seeing as you really think you can stop me." The vampire leveled a finger at him. "I'll make an example of you, and then I'll kill your friends. I'll enjoy drinking your blood."

Again, he had that certain way of talking about killing that sent off a weird message. It wasn't that I didn't believe him, I knew that he'd kill any one of us, especially now that we'd given him ample reason aside from sustaining himself. No, there was something about the way the words fell off his tongue, like a youth swearing for the first time. There was just something about it that set off a bell inside your head.

"Hey! Stay back! I'm warning you!" Barked Robert.

I looked over to him and saw that Ignacio was quickly backing him up against the wall of the cellar. Robert was running out of time!

"Suck on this, Ignacio!" Macalister shouted.

With that, he bent down to the ground and scooped up one of the jars from behind me and hurled it at him. It hit him on the side of the head, shattering and sending blood across his cheeks, lips and chest. He yelled in pain and I saw the glass had cut the side of his head where it shattered. Robert took Ignacio's pain to his advantage and ran back to Don, who was already running to regroup with Macalister and I. In a few more seconds the three of us stood together, ready to oppose Ignacio.

In less than another second, Ignacio whirled around to face us. I saw that his hood was now completely off, so I could see what he looked like. His shoulder length black hair billowed out behind him as he whirled around, his pale skin seemed to shine in the light. I noticed something that erased any doubts from my mind that said Ignacio wasn't a vampire: I noticed his luminous blood colored eyes in the darkness. He avoided the patch of sunlight let in by the small window above. His facial features were smooth. I also saw that the cuts on the side of his head that had been caused by the shattering glass earlier had almost vanished.

His tongue darted out of his mouth and licked the blood off of his lips and cheek. As he did this, the wounds on the side of his head rapidly healed. In the stories that my father told me as a boy, vampires could heal quickly if they drank blood.

"Troll, get that shelf on its side and break the legs off! We need stakes!" Robert turned back to the vampire. "The rest of us will hold off Ignacio!"

Macalister ran over to the shelf that we had cleared of the blood jars and he pushed it onto its side. I turned my attention back to Ignacio, who was already re-composing himself.