Tudor Rose [BoyxBoy]

Chapter 11 - Drain

Michael watched as Henri placed the silver spear in the hole they had dug in the forest behind the academy. The weapon was useless to a vampire, and while Michael liked the idea of Henri having something to protect himself with, there was nowhere to discretely hide a spear.

"What did you mean before, about there being someone out there who wants to kill me?" Henri asked as they began to fill the hole.

Michael's eyes narrowed. He was not sure how much he should tell Henri. "The story starts in the 1400s, when Vlad the Impaler was made the first vampire," he said, looking off into the forest. "Do you want to hear it?"

"I suppose so," said Henri, his emotions shifting constantly.

"To protect his nation from invasion by the Ottoman Empire, Vlad Dracul, the Prince of Wallachia and Transylvania, sold his soul to the devil in exchange for power. He was granted inhuman strength, speed, and senses, the basic powers that even the lowliest of vampires have. There was one other power he received, the ability to control the minds of others. All of this power came at the cost of an insatiable thirst for blood, and a weakness in the light of day. He discovered quickly that he could make vampires, ones who would burn in the sunlight, but who would submit to his every command. With an army of vampires, Vlad destroyed the invaders, earning him the title, the Impaler."
"What does that have to do with me?" Henri asked as they finished with the hole. Michael could tell Henri was getting cold. His face was red and there were dark circles under his eyes. He looked so vulnerable, never more like prey. "I don't want to scare you," he said.

"I can handle it."

"You want to leave," said Michael, not aware why he was talking like this. "You want to go home to France."

"This isn't right," said Henri, gesturing toward the academy, and Michael. "I don't want to be a vampire. I don't want any of this."

"You can't run from this, Henri." Michael was moving closer to Henri, whose pulse was quickening. He could see the blood pumping in Henri's jugular, and his fangs were threatening to extend.

"Tell me the rest of the story!" said Henri.

"Follow me, first." Michael led him into the academy.

"Where are we going," Henri asked as they entered the dark and empty building. The sun had come up and as it was Saturday, hardly anyone was walking the halls. Michael was taking him to the room where the portraits of the heads of the eight families were kept. He wanted him to know the faces of those he could not trust.

When they entered it, the room was dark. Michael lit the candles lining the walls of the room with a candle from the hallway. The firelight illuminated the many portraits hung from floor to ceiling. The largest of these belonged to Vlad Tepes. Henri seemed to recognize this and they both observed the painting of the man with eyes as red as blood and hair as black as night.

"He is my grandfather," said Michael, finally. He could feel that Henri was not surprised because of the obvious resemblance.

"He wants to kill me?" Henri asked.

"They all want to kill you," said Michael, gesturing at the dozens of paintings. "Some of these people are dead now, killed in the various wars over power. When I say power, I don't mean it in the political sense. The Eight Families have a truce that purebloods will not kill other purebloods, especially for the purpose of absorbing their powers. My grandfather, as king of the purebloods, demanded a sacrifice from each of the families so that he would have every power of the pureblood. First he took the power of control over the natural elements from the Romanovs, next the ability to transform into a swarm of bats or a wolf from the Tudors, then the ability to fly from the Hohenzollerns, the ability to become mist from the Medici, and finally the ability to produce a toxic venom from the Borgia. Your ancestor, Louis Valois, once a king of France, refused to make the sacrifice, and died defending himself from my grandfather."