The Vampire King's Toxic Consort (bxb)

Chapter 9 It's not your fault

Lucius didn't know how he managed to drag Anton, who was probably 1.5 times his size, into the tiny shelter he clumsily put together with branches and boughs. Then he pushed the two dead neophyte bodies off the cliff in case other pursuers detected their tracks.

After all of that, Lucius also sneaked back to the car crash site and collected food, water, a first aid kit, Anton's phone, two guns and bullets before sunset and hastily trudged back to their hiding spot with a giant bag that almost broke his spine.

Lucius used the disinfectants from the first aid kit, cleaned Anton's wounds and bandaged the blistered areas as much as he could. Anton had a fever and shivered in the chilly night air, yet Lucius didn't dare to make a campfire for fear of exposing their location. He wrapped the two blankets he grabbed from the car over the young werewolf and fed him water. And then all he could do was sat there and hope Anton would be ok.

The night in the wilderness was long and unsettling. Without the familiar and artificial din of the city, the forest had its own eerie susurration. The sudden shuffling sounds in the shrubs. The hoot of the owls. The alarming grunting of some unknown animals. Combined with the swaying and shuffling shadows, layer after layer, gradually fade into ominous darkness.

Lucius huddled in the corner of the shelter, trying not to freak himself out by all the sudden noises and distant wolf howlings. He couldn't fall asleep even though he was drained.

Through the long night, he was left alone with his rampage thoughts. All those unprocessed emotions rushed toward him like a formidable tide, and he had nowhere to hide.

Did he really make the human slaves' lives even more unbearable? Was it all his fault? Did all human slaves that he tried hard to free hate his guts?

Why were they blaming him for what the vampires did? All he wanted was to end the suffering. How Come he only made it worse?

And what now?

He was sure this was not the end. Whoever wanted him destroyed wouldn't let him off the hook so easily. What if he got Anton killed, too? He would never have forgiven himself for it.

Moreover, even if he somehow made his way back to Anthor, what would happen to him? Would his country appreciate what he had done? Would his father finally be proud of him? Would his mother hug him and kiss him and love him as much as she loved his brother?

He had a hunch that might not be the case.

The moment people see the branding on his neck, he would become something unclean and tarnish in most Anthorians' eyes. He would be the whore who served the demons.

The more he thought about his future, the more desperate he became. There was no light at the end of the long, desolate tunnel but another wasteland.

As a deep, crisp blue crept up from the east and the dawn gently awoke the forest, Lucius noticed that the blisters were gone from Anton's leg and hand, and the gushes on his other leg and forehead had begun to heal. The fever also subsided. The werewolf was out of danger and would probably wake up in a few hours.

Lucius decided he should leave now. He quietly packed some water, food, one of Anton's two guns, and a box of bullets and headed west. Lucius wasn't sure what his plan was. Probably just kept going west as far as he could. His chance of making it to Anthor was slimmer than a strand of hair, but what other choice did he have?

Drinking Asmodian's blood?

After what the vampires had done to him and the human slaves he had seen on the road? What kind of coward would choose to become the perpetrator after all that? Lucius didn't think of himself as particularly brave or honorable, but that was a line he couldn't cross.