Gothick

Chapter Two

Flames flickered within their lampposts, casting shadows over the Nördlingen streets. Wind howled through cobblestone alleyways as the moon reached its zenith. One sound echoed down the deserted road-the crunching of wheels against stone. A black stagecoach made its way through the cobbled lane, rocking to and fro lightly. Its sides were crafted with intricate curves and oval windows made of blue stained glass. Two horses pulled the lone stagecoach-their coats so white that they looked akin to ghosts in the moonlight.

Within, two men gazed out at the sleeping town.

"Too long, I've been away Balthazar," Leon said. His gold eyes stared with a reserved excitement. A narrow smirk slid across his pale face, revealing two long and pointed canines. "You weren't here last I was, I think."

"I don't believe so," Balthazar said, his eyes heavy. The tip of his graying goatee touched his breast as his head bent down.

"Come, come, Balthazar," Leon said, voice deepening. "You mustn't be weary now, upon our arrival."

"Aye," the older man said. "But not all of us are...gracedwith your affliction."

"You have a loose lip, old man," Leon retorted. "Pray a time never comes that I no longer need you."

Smirking, Balthazar shrugged and changed position. Leon shifted his eyes back to the distorted glass. Just now, he could make out St. Georg's Church. He pictured the grand structure in his mind: the open sanctuary, where walls were painted with such a white only acceptable to Heaven. How he once stared at those tall, vaulted ceilings with their wooded beams, so intricate that it was as though he gazed up into the web of a giant spider. His skin prickled as he recalled the feel of a summer morning's sun atop the adjunct Daniel Tower. There, one could only see the orange rooftops and the green trees and the lush plains beyond the city wall. One was free there.

The church he had once known and the one that existed today were two different structures, forever changed by time. What now stood in its place was nothing more than a shell, boarded and derelict. Is this how King Arthur would feel returning to Camelot? Would the king of old be shocked to find the once medieval markets had now become storefronts and hotels? Would his once great castle be reduced to a museum? He would be a ghost, Leon thought.

"Are we staying for a while?" Balthazar asked. "I would like to start up my practice again."

"Yes," Leon said. "I think so."

"Good," Balthazar said. "A man robbed of his work is no man at all."

"You and I have two different ideas of what a manis, Balthazar," Leon said, turning toward his companion. Though, when the older man saw Leon's face, his brow furrowed. Leon didn't need to read Balthazar's mind to know what he was about to say.

"You haven't fed lately, have you?"

Leon grunted. A crimson and black bruise marred the skin beneath his left eye. As soon as Balthazar mentioned it, Leon's stomach twisted. His taste buds demanded for the welcome taste of blood.

"I haven't thought about it," he said.

"Come here then," Balthazar said, undoing his neck tie. "That's no way to present yourself to the landlord. Besides, you better get your fill before bed. Lord in Heaven only knows what I'd do if I have to acquire another cattle for you to drain."

"Enough of your nagging," Leon snapped, but leaned forward. Balthazar pulled aside the tie and the collar of his coat. Two sets of fading puncture marks were visible against his white skin. Leon opened his mouth, lip curling to make his canines more pronounced. Like a viper, he brought his head down and sank his teeth into the side of his companion's neck. Balthazar grunted and shuddered at the breaking of his own flesh.