The Morganville Vampires - The Mystery Of Amelie, Bishop, Oliver and Myrnin.

Chapter 4 - Myrnin

1124 – Myrnin

 Darkness.

 I flailed violently, scratching the walls ferociously until my fingernails turned to blood-shod stumps, hanging uselessly at my side, chained to the wall.

‘Monster!’ they had called me, ‘Satan’s child!’

But they didn’t understand, no one did, I wanted to devour their very essence, their soul, but why?

 My memory was shards of darkness and agony, needing to be pieced together. I’m insane, I thought, but what was truly the definition of insane? If I was, then would I question it? Or would I simply dismiss my madness? I didn’t have much time to ponder on the thought further as the heavily enforced door was ripped from its hinges and tossed straight into me, sunlight flooding through the dark room. My eyes stung, the sensation spread to my skin as it itched uncomfortably, painfully even-

 I screamed like a newborn as my skin burned under the sheer heat of the light, as two figures glided towards me effortlessly. I’m going to die, they’re going to kill me, what use am I anyway? Taking up room in a place for the devils children, what had I done wrong for God to punish me?

 ‘Hello,’ spoke a female voice with a slight French accent, ‘what are you doing in a place like this?’ She reached for my chains, it burnt on contact, as she gritted her teeth and broke the it into two uneven lumps of metal. Her grey eyes rested on my own. ‘I’m not going to hurt to you, I promise.’ Something about her terrified me, I was frozen in a state of shock, and as I studied her closely, I noticed how unnaturally pale she was. ‘You’re not much of a talker are you?’ She smiled, ‘Well then, come with me, I can help you.’

 Her partner approached, a middle aged man, quite tall. He put my arm around his neck to help balance me, as I realised I may have actually forgotten how to walk, Jesus, I thought, that would be embarrassing.

 We made our way down a mildly lit hall until we reached a door, heavily guarded by men with swords. Upon our approach, they drew them at the sight of me, Satans child. They smiled in triumph, clearly outnumbering us.

 The first one lunged, and the French woman ripped his heart out, ripped, I stared in utter disbelief, as the rest came forward, her companion dodged and sank his teeth into another. Reinforcements came, at least twenty of them, as the woman’s eyes coated themselves completely white, the guards screamed and writhed in agony as their ribs broke inwards, piercing their hearts. When the woman was finished, she dropped their lifeless bodies to the ground, their faces frozen in contorted pain, as she smiled with sad eyes.

 ‘What,’ I croaked, finding my voice for the first time in years, ‘on earth was that?’ Her dangerous gaze fell on me, I expected her to turn me to dust, or smoke, could she do that? ‘That,’ she whispered, ‘is the terrible gift from my father.’ She walked away, her partner dragging me along with them, past the mangled corpses of their most recent victims, already forgotten.

There will be more Myrnin! I promise!