Für Sarah

Trilogy

Krolock cursed under his breath as he watched his numerous guests float and flutter in a sensual waltz below where he stood on the grand staircase that lead to the floor of the lavish ball room.

His swearing had not been quite enough, for he heard a deep sigh behind him. Krolock turned with a flick of his cloak to see who had approached him.

"Oh, Herbert." The older Vampire relaxed slightly, giving his son a small smile.

Herbert tilted his head slightly, his soft long, platinum blonde hair cascading down one side. "What troubles you, Father?"

Krolock scoffed, "This. All of it." He waved his lengthy hands at the scene below. "I have nothing but a measly farmer to give them."

"Perhaps if you had not struck a deal with that village past the woods, we'd have more-"

"Gah!" Krolock interrupted the young vampire. He cringed at his tone and glanced at Herbert. His pride and joy. His whole world. Well, his world besides a certain maiden who was at this very moment celebrating her seventeenth year locked in a room on the second floor of the Chagal Inn. The elder vampire took a moment to breath in the sight of him.

Herbert was a beautiful creature, sharing the same sharp features as his father, but in a more gentile sort of way. He had the clearest viridescent eyes and dark, thick lashes. Shaded full lips and hair paler than gold.

"What a Father am I? Keeping you away from an evening of flirting and dancing." This roused a laugh from the young(er) vampire. Krolock gave him a special look. "Do you have anyone in mind for your affections this evening?"

Herbert's emerald gaze trailed down to the whirling gowns and handsome archfiends engaged in a stunning dance to haunting music. "Sir Robert McNeil has caught my eye." And he pointed a long white finger at an attractive man with dark hair.

Krolock nodded. "He is handsome. Go down there and ask him to dance."

His son flashed him a grin- fangs and all- before bowing and descending down the stairs as if he were a roman god of old in the direction of Sir Robert McNeil.

The Midnight Ball continued through the twilight and soon complaints rose to the host why they had not been fed. It was to Krolock's most sincerest regrets to present their meal of one pallid mortal man.

Nonetheless, the hundreds of undead and bloodlusted guests tore the man lim from lim to have a taste of the scarlet liquid which flowed through his veins.

Krolock did not taste the mortal, not wanting to deprive the rest from a meal however small.

He disappeared from the chaos and wandered around the dark and empty halls of the castle, nothing but thousands year old portraits for company.

He wanted Sarah. Oh he wanted her so very badly. He pinned to possess her body and soul, to hide her away in his shadow and keep her for himself. He longed to dance with her. To sink his fangs into the soft, malleable column of her neck and drink from her sweet nectar.

Just a year more.

Krolock's heart that hadn't made a beat in nearly a hundred years seemed to shrivel. He suddenly had the strangest urge to kiss the tender spot on the edge of her jaw.... perhaps another thing to add to the lengthily list of all the things he wanted to do to her.