A Tender Hand from a Violent Crest

The Moonlight that bleeds

It was quiet that night beneath her gentle light. My every muscle lay broken and bruised. I felt a deep searing pain in my chest as liquid flowed beneath me onto the concrete below. All I could see any more as my vision began to fade was the moon sitting so beautifully in the sky.

Fluid began to dip down the sides of my cheeks as a prayer rippled through my chest to her. To be given one last chance. Not for myself. No. I could die and be satisfied with the life I had.

No. My prayer was for my lost fiance, whose blood grows cold on our carpet at home. My prayer was for vengeance for her. For a chance to take what they had stolen from her. Their lives.

As my gaze locked on the moon, I felt something begin to squirm beneath my flesh. A cold twitching like one, two, and then hundreds of worms digging and crawling beneath my skin. The feeling was unbearable, sudden, and intense. It was then the light finally gave out in my eyes as the Moonlight bled away from my vision. That was my last moment alive.

Cassandra sighed quietly, staring at the garden outside with a look of annoyed worry. A call had come in from the lady mother, telling her to put the castle on lock down. She had gotten word of some creature, hunting down people in Europe of standing, and she wanted to ensure the family was free from such worries until she got back from her trip. Which meant no hunting, no traveling, and no fresh victims!

Bela had locked herself up in her room the instant she had gotten home, and Daniela was pacing the halls nearly twice as bored as Cassandra and very vocal about it. Cassandra accepted the reality that she was going to be stuck, ensuring Daniela didn't go running off in the middle of the night. The very idea annoyed her to the core, but it was a needed step to ensure the little naive child she called a sister from hurting herself with a wild thing in the loose.

It was agonizing hours of chasing around the rambunctious and bored Daniela until she finally managed to exhaust her and convince her to lay down for a while. Now Cassandra was alone, left to look out on the garden in the moonlight.

She leaned back against the small stone bench, hands resting behind her for support. The moonlight was lovely, she had to admit. The garden Bela had taken such care to make for us all. The great trees built off of excess flesh mingled with extra mold to form great and gorgeous trees that bled red sap and grey vast black dusty leaves. Surrounding each trunk were decorations of arms, broken and peeled into lovely little flowers and preserved with touches of the fluid we used like water for the plants that acted as a healing agent. The cobblestone walkways that led across each pathway made entirely from brickwork formed out of bone dust, and extra teeth formed the way mud would otherwise be. Formed in a pattern that resembles a gnashing pair of jaws from every angle.

Along each walkway were decorative little fences, barely 2 inches tall, made out of shattered femur and finger bones. Cassandra remembered the day she got to make them. It had been hard work, and it took quite a few bodies to get enough, but she had taken the time needed, and a smile crept across her face at the result. A small detail that did so much to bring out the beauty of it. Just beyond each were the flowers and fungus themselves, open rib cages with the flesh peeled in such a way to resemble large mushrooms, surrounded by skulls that were blossoming with wild flowers like impromptu vases.

Each one had been made by hand and taken time to ensure they lasted for years, chemical work, and extra touches that she was behooves to admit had really been worth the effort. She sighed contently, smiling over the garden view. Maybe things weren't so frustrating. After all, once the lockdown was done, she was definitely taking a well-earned trip to Paris. She may have to sneak out to do it, but the kind of fun meals and sights she might finally get to see would have to be worth it!

Her senses suddenly sharpened as she noticed the moonlight seem to turn red, and the hairs along the back of her neck stood on end. She started to stand, only for a hand to firmly slam her back down onto the bench. The strength she felt in that hand was immense, as was the wetness of what she suspected was blood that soaked its fingers. Even the Lady mother had never shown such a display of power, as the very bench beneath Cassandra cracked when she was pushed back down. The air went from a mixture of corpses and flower aromas to overwhelming her senses with the strange yet intoxicating aroma of oleander.

"Who..." The question died in her throat, unable to choke through the strange, creeping fear that threatened to swallow her whole. Cassandra had never felt such an overwhelming sense of dread, as the very presence of this creature behind her felt as if their shadow itself weighed on her like chains. Her hands trembled, and her breathing began to pick up pace as she sat there on the cracked bench, awaiting either an answer or, as she feared, death.

"Whatever name we had before died. You wreak of privilege and intoxication sadism," the voice was strange and beautiful, yet haunting and terrible. Never had such a sound crossed her ears, and it only worsened her quaking terror. Her mind was spinning with all the little things she had wanted to do, to see, to feel, as she felt as if her death was coming once more, and this time it may just stick.

"P... please..." her voice just barely managed to croak out.  She hadn't even seen this thing yet, and its voice and hand along had practically plunged her into the depths of terror. It was the first time, in a very long time, that she was on the receiving end. So many screams she had drawn using these same tactics now felt like they had reformed in her own throat, yet lay trapped beneath her own terror like the plug in a drain long since overflowing. It shook her in a way she hated. She hated being weak, more than anything in the world.

"But you are not what we hunt. So consider this your one chance," as that voice slowly whispered hauntingly into her ear, "Cassandra."

It knew her name. It knew who she was. It could find her whenever it wanted. This castle was more fortified than any building, yet it had gotten in so easily that she had even started relaxing when it caught her. A slow and deafening chill ran up Cassandra spine. It terrified her. It rattled her. Yet deep inside as the grip tightened ever so slightly on her shoulder... it secretly excited her.

"So do better... or we will be back." As the touch disappeared, leaving the shaking little vampiress on a cracked bench surrounded by the scent of blood and her own quivering terror.