The Vampire Guard

Vampire Guard - One Shot

My family were Vampires, if you could call us that.

You see, we didn't need blood to live, but we could consume it. It was like an energy drink that some of our ancestors had gotten addicted to, leading our family to be ostracized and isolated in a small village in the mountains, lost to the rest of the world.

Not that we minded. We knew the sins of our ancestors, and we made do.

We carved stone, made art, grew our own food, and had each other to laugh with. Life was good.

We were constantly watched over by a group called the Society, though—they monitored us, checked in, and made sure we stayed in our little village. They were annoying, sure, but mostly harmless.

However, the newest member of the Society sent to watch over us had been getting on everyone's nerves.

He was frighteningly tall and wore a dark cloak. The lower half of his face was covered in a silver metal canine jaw, the top half in a black metal mask. He carried a large, curved sword, which hung at his side like a deadly reminder of who he was and what he stood for.

We called him the Reaper.

I didn't mind him much myself. He was fearsome, sure, but he never did any harm. He mainly came and talked in riddles. He especially liked to tease the children, tricking them out of their sweets and outsmarting them with mischievous glee, laughing at their frustration.

For such an intimidating figure, he had quite a happy laugh.

One day, as I was setting out the laundry to dry, I saw him kneeling before a kid, the child hesitantly handing him the remainder of his steamed bun.

"Excuse me, sir," I said, jogging down the small hill that separated me from them. "Do you want a steamed bun? I would be more than happy to give you one of your own."

The masked man turned his attention towards me, his lifeless eyes unreadable behind the mask.

I glanced at the sword at his side, praying I hadn't overestimated his personality.

"One of my own?" his husky voice hissed as he turned towards the boy before him. "Well, this one is my own. Isn't it, Jord?"

The boy gulped, his eyes darting between the two of us.

"Yes. It is his now."

"Hmm..." I hummed, unconvinced. "But it looks to me that the bite mark in the bun is much too small to have been Reaper's..." I put my hands on my hips. "Jord, did you eat the Reaper's food?"

"No! It was my food first! That's why I took a bite," Jord exclaimed fearfully.

"Ah, so why is it now Reaper's food?" I asked the small boy, feeling like a teacher breaking up a schoolyard fight.

"Well..."

"No need to concern yourself, Miss..." Reaper trailed off, not knowing my name.

"Miss Ivy."

"Miss Ivy. I simply made a wager with little Jord here, and the winner got a steamed bun."

"Ah huh," I said, still unconvinced. "Did you only make the wager when you saw he had a steamed bun you wanted?"

"Right, you are, Miss Ivy," the masked man said, smiling. "But it was a wager, just the same. Jord didn't have to agree to it."

"Yes, well. Anyone might agree to anything you ask when you carry a sword twice their size," I said, nodding to the blade at his hip.

The Reaper let out a laugh, amused.

"Why, I guess that is true. I hadn't quite thought of it that way."