The Vampire's seal lll : Love over immortality

No Willpower

Michael

It had been silent for a while, but there it was again.

The cry of an infant.

I snapped my head around from the still women to look back at Freya's enlarged stomach. Despite still being inside the mother's womb, the baby's cries were as loud as day.

And then I saw it. The pile of liquid that had accumulated by Freya. Sniffing at it, I realized my worse fears.

The liquid wasn't pee.

Freya's water had broken before she had died.

Damn it!

Whining in distress, I tentatively opened Freya's legs apart and positioned myself in between them.

While I didn't understand how exactly a dead woman could give birth, I remembered that Freya was a half succubus, who were made to reproduce.

Like it or not, this baby was coming. 

Marceline

After being guided through some twist and turns, we had finally reached the ballroom. Red ordered me to wait in the middle of the room so that he could go off and spectate the battle on the hidden balcony from above.

Once the jackass was in the balcony, he used a whistle that was meant to attract gold eyes, or to alert them.

I didn't think Michael was stupid enough to come find the source of the sound. I mean, if a mysterious whistle comes from deeper inside the horrifying castle, where an evil mastermind was plotting, a person in their right mind would turn tail and run. 

Then, I felt the idiot's presence.

You've got to be kidding me. Are you really that dumb Mike?

I felt my body stiffen when Mike's aura drew closer.  Then, I felt my skin grow cold and hard, and my mind clear itself for one goal- the kill. I began to feel the mindset I had whenever I was determined to kill someone. But it wasn't my fault.

It can't be my fault. It's not like I want to kill him...

Right?

Before  knew it, the mask's reach had begun to control  my mind. Some things, not even I could control.

I began to grow afraid that if this continued on, I wouldn't even be able to think for myself. And when thinking is the only form of freedom a person has while being imprisoned, it tends to drive them over the edge.

The edge of insanity.

That's why I wanted to cry out when I saw him. To scream. To warn. To do something.

Anything.

Because when I finally laid my tired, possessed, and bloodshot eyes on him, I wasn't afraid for myself.

I wasn't afraid for Michael.

I was utterly horrified for the tiny infants that he carried in his arms, and what Red would make me do to them if he saw them.

I was a murderer of people. Not innocent babies.

R...run dumbass...

That's when I noticed that my thoughts were finally slipping from me. My psyche wanning, I was loosing myself. All I I could possibly hope for now was that Michael would kill me, before I killed him and his offspring.

Michael

Walking into the huge room, I sighed when I felt the cold air. I looked at the little ones in my arms, and smiled when I saw one of them look up at me.

I don't think I'll ever understand why I ever felt the way I did. The swelling sense of pride deep in my chest... I don't get it. All I know is that when I looked into my baby's eyes for the first time, I felt something.

I wonder what Freya would say if she ever found out she had given birth to two beautiful twins.

My son. My daughter. My two children. One of them moved around, face wrinkled, and I made made a small smile. My cold kids.

I took off my coat and wrapped them around it before setting them down near the entrance of the balcony.

I'm not having them getting caught up in this. No way in hell.

After setting the down, I looked around for the source of the whistle.

Then it happened.

At first, I didn't realize what had just happened, until it happened again. It was a punch. It came out of no where and struck me by the side of my jaw.

Staggering up to my feet and wiping the blood off of my lips with my sleeve. I looked around annoyed, and tried to figure who slugged me.

Then I paused. "What the hell?"

What... what am I looking at?

It was the messed up version of all of my dreams. A woman in a dress, but instead of her crying in the center of a blue room, she was beating the hell out of me in a ballroom.

The girl was wearing the dress from my dreams, but the bottom was all torn up, almost as if it had been ripped. She had a dark wooden mask on her face, slanted slits for holes for her eyes. She had disheveled brown hair, was slightly shorter then me, and had pale skin.

So familiar... do I know this chick?

She swayed side to side as she waited for my next move. What was even more disturbing about her, was her occasion jerked movements, and the blood that oozed from the mask.

I'm sure that's not healthy.

I looked at her, spit the blood out, and put my fist up. I felt my an energy shot to my brain, then opened my eyes, feeling them glow.

After I had done that, I saw a pair of red lights brighten through the eyeslits of the wooden mask, before quickly being restrained and eventually burnt out.

I felt a strange sense of nostalgia when she had done that, and before I had time to think, I was uppercut into the air.

Whoever she is, she's beating the hell out of me...

Did I just enter a fight with no hope of winning?