Kingdom Come

The Hiding

It was two in the morning and the Lonesome Maiden was quiet. Nikolas walked into the wine cellar and closed the trap door above him. He couldn't wait to taste the sweet blood of the Azrael. He hoped that the legend was true. He hoped that her blood would give him life; the life he had been absent of for over 500 years now. He knew that the transition, if there was one, would be painful, but that was a risk he was more than willing to take.

He walked past the wine racks and the barrels of ale to the far back wall where a large mirror was hung. Nikolas allowed his thumb nail to sharpen and made a small cut on his index finger. He placed his bloodied finger on the top right corner of the mirror's golden frame and the glass began to ripple like water. He stepped through the mirror and looked down at his finger to see that the cut was already gone. He smiled a little; although he had refrained from blood consumption for nearly a year, his powers remained, however weaker. He sat the crate containing his special order on the table in the secret room. He removed a bottle and released the cork. There was certainly something different about this blood, whether or not it was magical, he was skeptical. "Doesn't hurt to try..." he thought to himself.

Nikolas took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and prayed for this to work before pressing the mouth of the bottle to his lips and turning the bottom towards the heavens. He could hear his own pulse as his heart began to beat faster. He felt himself growing stronger with each swallow, each muscle swelling with beast-like strength. His senses were beyond perfect and certainly far above that of any human. The bottle was sucked dry within seconds, and he had to restrain himself from rushing into one of the upstairs rooms to take more blood from an innocent, paying victim.

His eyes shot open, and the world around him appeared as though he were seeing it through a red lens. Oh, how he missed this rush of power, this feeling of transcendence, this ecstacy; it was like being reborn. He had thought that the Azrael's blood smelled divine, but the taste... the taste was uncanny. He leaned his head back against the wall as he came down from his high. If there was any change within him, if any of his mortality had returned, he did not feel it. If anything, he felt his vampiric abilities even stronger. Maybe the change takes time. Just because the transformation to a vampire only takes a few moments doesn't mean that the reverse transition will be so quick... if at all.

He waited.

And waited.

And nothing...

"Perhaps, I should just sleep on it." He thought to himself, "Maybe when I wake up, I'll finally be free." He took a long look at the empty bottle in his hand before returning it to its spot in the crate. He walked back through the mirror and closed the glass portal. He stared at his reflection long and hard searching for any sign of life, any proof of humanity within himself but found none. He brushed his wavy brown hair back with both hands and pushed his elbows together in front of his face and then he let out a frustrated groan into his arms. He was running out of options. If this didn't work, he would be bound to this curse for forever. The very idea of being a vampire forever was maddening; in all honesty, he didn't think he could make it one more day.

Oh, sure, the power was amazing. The heightened senses, the hypnotism, and the ability to fly, all perks, right? But Nikolas didn't want them. He had lived long enough to see his kind go from merely being the subject of scary children's stories to ruling the Five Kingdoms. Of course, that was before the humans learned that the vampires could be controlled, their powers could be harnessed, they could be used as slaves.

Control the blood. Control the vampires.

It had been tricky, and many human lives were lost... but they won. Somehow, humanity won. They were a species bent on survival at any cost. Men are so selfish. The vampires never killed their blood slaves, not many at least, and never intentionally. The vampire rulers were very efficient. They recycled the blood slaves. Afterall, a shortage of humankind equalled a shortage of blood, and a shortage of blood equalled some really weak and pissed off vampires. BUT! The vampires let them live. However, in there fight against the vampires, humans were willing to allow a countless number of people die, so many innocents were destroyed... for what? Freedom? HA! The truth is, humans are more slaves to each other then they ever were to the vamps.

Still, somehow, by some miracle, they won. The roles reversed.

Now vampires serve all of humanity's needs. They farm their crops, they build their homes, they cook their food, fight their petty wars. A few are in hiding having been not yet discovered. They live among the humans as men and women, going about their lives as every other human does. Some of the vampires in hiding even go so far as to have vamp slaves of their own just to reduce any suspicion that might rise against them.

Some vampires plot to regain control. They rose from the shadows once, and they can do it again!

...Others just want to be human... to live this life as they have pretended for 150 years. To live, to fall in love, to be merry, and to die.

Nikolas Edmund Gerard, owner of the Lonesome Maiden, was a vampire in hiding, and he longed to be human again. He had seen so much death and suffering both in his kind and in those who were once his kind. Immortality sounded great, until you actually have to live it.

He walked into his bedroom on the main floor of the tavern and crossed to his bed. He threw himself down heavily and landed on the soft mattress with a loud thump. "This is my last option. I've exhausted all other resources and means of regaining my humanity. If this doesn't work, there is no other way." He clenched his fist and pressed his eyelids closed, tightening every muscle in his body, feeling the electric pulse of his great strength run through him from his fingertips to his toes. He held his breath. "Azrael, please..." he exhaled slowly, relaxing every muscle until he lay limp on the bed and drifted off to sleep.

*****

Nikolas woke up in the same position he had fallen asleep; he didn't move much in his sleep anymore because he was never comfortable anyways; 500+ years of living will do that to a man. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling waiting to feel some difference in his body, but he felt nothing. Grunting, he rolled off his bed and moved to the wash basin in his room where he took a knife and made a small cut on the back of his hand. Blue liquid began to rise and turn red as blood pushed through the slice in his skin. Only one drop managed to fall into the basin before the skin began to close and heal. The blood within him began to boil with the realization that his plan did not work. Azrael's blood failed. The legend was a lie. Hope was gone.

With one angry swoop, Nikolas sent the basin, water pitcher, and knife soaring through the air. He was sure that all of Westmina heard them crash against the wall but before he had time to regret his actions he heard a gentle knock on his door. He was at the door in a second and flung it open to find the shocked barmaid, Lette, standing before him. He immediately relaxed, dropping his shoulders, softening his features, and the anger splayed on his face changed to despair before Lette's eyes.

She was a young girl about sixteen and one of the few people who knew what Nikolas was. She had discovered in her time working for him that she was less afraid of him and more afraid for him. Lette was forever grateful for Nikolas; he had saved her from her parents and hidden her away with him when she was only a babe. Nobody knew her story or their history because if they did, they may believe that Nikolas had less than honorable intentions toward the girl, but this was far from true. Lette knew that without Nikolas' help, she'd probably be dead by her father's hand. Nikolas had become the father she never had, and he had come to see her as the daughter he never would have. She was one of the reason's he wanted... no... needed to become human. He had witnessed the loss of so many people he loved and cared for; the thought of losing her was too much.

"A-are you alright?" Lette asked softly, pulling her shoulders high and rubbing her left arm. "I heard som..." she trailed off when she saw the glass shattered on the floor and the knife in the wall. Nikolas pulled her into a strong embrace. She laid her head against his chest and sighed, "It didn't work, did it?" He kissed her on the top of the head before resting his chin on it and releasing a long sigh of his own. After a moment of silence between them, he finally answered...

"No."