My Beloved [IN MASSIVE REVISION]

That Deep, Red Crimson (New Version)

14th Century; Paris; December 24, Christmas Eve

His fangs penetrated my neck. She felt the blood starting to leave my body, the feeling was irresistible. He sunk his fangs in deeper and the woman moaned with pleasure. Her legs started giving out and at the moment his arms wrapped around my body tighter. Everything else didn't matter anymore, not the ball downstairs, the hundreds of people there, not even this beautiful room she was in, just him.

She felt her body grow weaker and weaker the more he swallowed down his throat. Then the pleasure was gone; replaced by coldness and her body dropped on the floor, She didn't feel the pain. The girl had no more blood to give, she had used the last of her strength to lift her eyes and stare into his, those sapphire blue eyes, and think of his name one last time, Damien. Then, everything was black.

He felt the last bit of her body give out, and he let her go. A deep thunk as the body hit the carpet motionless. 

This had been the second time he slipped up; the second time he gave into the desire, the seduction, the lust, the deep red crimson poison that seemed to quench his soul.

The thirst became too much, it was as if his tongue had become sandpaper rubbing harshly against his mouth. He had tried to alleviate the pain with multiple forms of liquid: water, wine, beer, even that sad excuse of a substitute they had been cramming down his throat. He had to have it and now that he had, he may not go back.

The man stood at the window blood dazed, too buzzed to remember the chaos and madness that seemed to engulf the town. "The Black Death" they called it, for it left black boils that oozed bodily fluids out on people's faces, deforming humans to an inhuman degree. Their blood and body were infected; it seems to kill all those who come into contact with the ill, killing everyone, including them.

They had tried to stave off their hunger for survival, but it seemed to hold no prevail. Their kin died right alongside the infected because of gluttony. He knew the precautions, the consequences, the ends, but he needed it, he had told himself.

She clung to reality. Through darkened vision, her eyes drifted across the room that once gave her comfort, though its warm, comforting attributes seemed to disappear; as if it knew the events that were to come to alter its very nature for death. She didn't even recognize it anymore. It appeared to be a different room than the one she had been in five months ago.

Five Months Ago; Le Chateau Exsangue; Marie

"Welcome to our humble abode, Alchemist. I shall take you to the masters."

"Don't fret Marie. We don't want to keep the masters waiting." Croix had told me as he followed after the old-strange looking man.

I walked behind him cautiously, yet filled with wonder. Our steps echoed throughout the multiple hallways for what seemed to be forever. My eyes drifted from one antique to another, from floor to ceiling, from door to door, unsure of where to cast my gaze upon. Designed carpets covered the cobblestone floor. Tapestries and portraits clung to the wall,  illuminated by the waxy candle chandeliers that filled the home with artificial warmth. The engraved doors appear connected in design, yet shut to divert yearning eyes to the life inside.  Not a speck of dust could be found, no bug or crawler in sight, and it seemed to appear lived in, but the hallways were empty, not a sound to be heard as we walked deeper into this unknown.

 I shivered at the thought, for all this space, what is it for?  It could serve as a fortress to the unaffected of the plague, isolated from the terror, and death; yet I had not heard of this place until my master had accepted the job. My mind wandered as we continued to travel. 

"We are here," said the man as he gestured his hand to a grand double-doored entrance, crafted from reddish-brown wood. 

The door opened with ease and grace, slowly revealing to us the first of the house's secrets. The walls lined with bookcases filled to the brim, reaching the ceiling. A candélabre illuminated the wood's glossy texture and the pristine carpet that mirrored the castle's beauty. A fireplace burning brightly to the left fills the room with the scent of wood and ash. 

"Hello, my name is Croix and this is my apprentice, Marie," Croix said as he extended his hand toward the man in the chair behind the wood-carved table in the center of the room.

"Hello Alchemist, I thank you for agreeing to join us here at Le Chateau Exsangue. My name is Lucius Ward." The man had said, as he got out of his chair and stepped into the moonlight, unveiling the mystery that held in the dark. He had angel-like hair, sun-kissed like golden hay, but cold, black onyx eyes that pierced into the soul. He seemed to look around my age, of average height, but his voice rang with prominence and grace, with an ability to steal the ears and arrest the attention of everyone in the room. He reminded me of one of the old demon stories my ma would tell me when I was young, the ones with voices that lured women and men away from their homes in the middle of the night and ate their souls. 

His movements were quiet, yet quick. He shook Croix's hand briefly, but firmly, with finesse then moved onto me. His face looked younger from afar for as he moved in to kiss my hand, wrinkles had appeared through the gloss of his youthful glow, age entombed in his black eyes. I couldn't look away. Even after he walked back to his seat. 

"Now that we are done with introductions, let us get back to business. I must apologize, Gregory can you escort Marie to her room, while the Apothecary and I conduct business?" Ward had said.

"Indeed, sir" Gregory had replied. 

"This way." He said to me as he walked toward the door, ushering me toward the double door once again. I looked back and Croix had given me a reassuring smile as the man who led us here, closed the door and led me down the daunting hallway once again. He never told me what happened in that room, and after looking at the darkened smile that passed over his face as he remembered the instance, I never asked him again. 

************_____________________**************

Cobwebs had grown in those corners of the fireplace that once bursted with flame and dirt in between the waxy candles of the chandelier that once flickered with radiance. The shimmering hardwood mahogany floor brimmed in dust, and white sheets covered the lush furniture.

The moonlight replaced the sunlight (connects to enter more stuff) and past had become present. It beamed into the chandelier, illuminating the room in a eerie, light blue glow.

The door busted open, numerous feet shuffled across the hardwood floor. His body slouched against the window frame, blood dripping from the grin that grew across his face, blending into the burgundy carpet yet
unresponsive, head tilted up toward the cascading light as numerous voices filled the room in protest, in agreement, in agony.

Voices filled the room, shouts, screams:

"We should've just locked him up!"

"This is your mess, Lucius. Deal with it."

"At least he had the guts to do it. We've been starving for weeks with a feast in front of us."

"Marie!"

"Back away, Apothecary. This is for the best."

Then nothing.

Then she was dragged away, never to be heard from again.

Author's Note: 

So that is the remastered version, can you guys tell me what you think? 

Your input is crucial for if you want me to continue adding onto the chapters like so, then I will continue doing this process, hopefully at a quicker pace, or just to continue the story end it, and then rewrite. 

Thank you for those who read, commented, voted or just sneaked a peek at this and enjoyed. I am happy that you guys like this and I will do my best to fulfill your expectations. See you on the flip side!

SHOUTOUT! DestiniLewis5 :P