Twisted Games

Chapter 1

Metallic warmth coated her pale lips and slipped past to spread across her tongue, like finding a single droplet of water after a century in the blazing heat of the desert that left her achingly parched. Stiff limbs regaining their ability to feel as the blood coated her throat, slowly giving life to that which had been rendered inanimate for an inhumanly amount of time.

Golden eyes opened for the first time in too long, unfocused, and blurry but the sight of simply the crumbling concrete ceiling of the mausoleum made her tingle with excitement. Her tongue slithered past her cracked lips to swipe away the last bit of blood that stained her red.

"Easy, Vira. You've plenty of time to regain your strength."

Her lashes fluttered, words unable to escape her mouth that refused to work, too weak. The only thing that her voice could make was raspy, guttural laughter from deep within. Resurrected by Vlad, not her own father, boded well for her to return to Paris and paint it a gloriously deep crimson.

What fun would she soon have with this newfound freedom from eternal, restless slumber.

******

"Uncle Vlad, I'm grateful that you resurrected me. I'll assume my father has no idea you've found me," Vira sat upright on the slab of stone that used to be her resting place, the small vial of blood drained completely into her body and giving it the strength she once lacked. Though not blood related, the girl had spent so much time with the older vampire that she'd grown quite fond of him as part of her family. After all, he had been the one to side with her, believe in her, and allow her all the fun her heart desired.

The white-haired vampire extended his hand to her as his head shook in answer to question. Of course, her father couldn't know of his plans to bring the child back, or he'd surely have hidden her body somewhere less likely to be discovered. "My apologies that you had to endure such cruel torture from him, and that I couldn't rescue you sooner."

Vira placed her dainty hand in his, accepting the assistance in standing. The amount of blood given to her not near enough to quench the painful thirst of a century without that vital nectar. Golden eyes flickered to the two lingering by the entrance to the mausoleum. "Can I drain them?"

"We are vampires ourselves, under Lord Vlad." The taller one spoke with gruff and disdain. Though stories had been told of this wicked vampire, the priest found her lacking of the pedestal that he'd perceived her to be placed on. A dainty little thing, perfect for experimentation.

"So? Blood is blood, and I'm terribly thirsty."

Vlad tightened his grip on her hand after the first malicious step she took toward them. "Faust, there's no need to antagonize her. And Vira, darling, refrain from killing what's mine or I'll have to punish you." The point pushed by the pain from the bones in her hand nearing their breaking point.

The girl gave a resigned sigh with a pout on her lips. "Breaking my bones isn't necessary, Uncle Vlad. I wouldn't do anything to harm those that you are fond of. All you need is to tell me." Her head tilted to the side and the pout disappeared, slipping into a crooked smile. How long it had been since she last felt pain. Truthfully, it sent a shiver down her entire body to be on the brink of such an excruciating feeling. "Although, even if you say I shouldn't visit my dear father, I won't be able to resist. I owe him a little chaos for leaving me here."

Flashes of that night arose from her deepest memories. Hours upon hours of dripping crimson blood onto the floor, not from her doing but spilled from her body. A rancid smell as the feeling in herself faded into a sedated, comatose state. By his hand.