Evaline | L. Lioncourt ✔

[19] Vengeance

The crossing was silent but a vigilant set of grey eyes flickered in the dark among the shadows as Lestat stood in wait for a particular group to reach there. And soon enough he spotted the carriage coming down his way and a satisfied smirk spread on his well chiseled mouth. The wheels of the carriage bumped against the pathway as it neared him, bustling along over the pebbles.

The sturdy iron nails strewn across the path had disrupted the speed of the carriage and eventually it slowed down, coming to a halt not far off from where he had concealed himself in the shadows. 

The driver got off the horse and noticing the iron nails, his hand reached for his gun immediately guessing that it was probably the work of some highway bandits. But he could not make the carriage steer forward for the wheels had been damaged.

Lestat savored the look of anguish on his features for it was almost midnight and the passengers were stranded in the middle of nowhere, far from their destination and left at his mercy.

Mercy, which they would not be getting.

He watched as one by one the passengers climbed out to check the cause of inconvenience, his eyes landing on each face as he ticked it off dead in his memory, his tongue brushing over his fangs that were poised to sink into each of their flesh.

At last he stepped out of the shadows, his steps calculated and his stance apparently harmless. The driver reached for his gun but he held his hands up to show that he was not armed hence he was not a highway bandit like they had suspected him to be.

In fact he was something much worse than a bandit but they were not aware of that yet.

One of the men spoke up, "Sir, what are you doing in such wilderness?" 

"I have been robbed and my carriage stolen by those accursed bandits. I am afraid I have no means of getting back to the city," his voice was soft yet calculated as if he had measured each word before uttering it out.

"Our carriage has been damaged as well," another replied looking over at the driver who was hoisting the wheels back in place, "but you may share a ride with us once the wheels are hoisted back. I hope it does not take much longer."

"Oh it will not take any longer. Your destination is not far off from here. Just a few more moments," he edged closer to the men, his eyes flickering from one face to another as if deciding which one to kill first. But he waited for the guard to go back in the carriage in order to fetch his tools and the second he disappeared inside, his grey irises sparked like a vulture's knowing that the time had come to strike.

And with a flash swift as lightening his hand reached out for the throat of the one nearest to him. As there were five, he had to be much faster and lethal than usual, getting to each one of them before they could even comprehend what had just happened.

Hearing the cries, the driver stepped out and was shocked out of his wits at seeing the sight in front of him.

Blood dripped from Lestat's mouth as he retrieved his jaw that was fastened on the man's throat, throwing him onto the bloodies mess of the four other corpses that were just as pale as if each drop of blood had been sucked out. 

His white shirt was stained with blood though he had been cautious not to let much of it spill on him. But of course the prey had struggled against him and he could not prevent the deep crimson hue from tainting his shirt.

Lestat's eyes lazily locked with the driver's who was so frightened that even though he was holding his gun aimed at him, his hands trembled and he could not take aim. Lestat inched forward and watched him step back, trembling in terror. His fist collided with his face, striking forcefully right at the nose and knocking him out.

The gun clattered on the ground along with his body that was sprawled slightly away from the mess of the corpses. Lestat piled all of them in the carriage, leaving only the driver out for he had no intention to kill him, though he had made sure that he had received a heavy concussion so that he would not clearly remember the night's events.

With the five corpses in the carriage, he climbed in the driver's seat himself, steering it to the destination he had in mind himself. The wheels were not properly hoisted so the carriage jostled and bustled violently along the way but Lestat paid no heed, the fire of vengeance cooling down by the gusts of fresh air that struck him.

He led it to the edge of the cliff nearby, increasing the speed and relishing the jolts and bumps along the way as the carriage headed closer to the edge. And just as the first two wheels left the steady ground, he jumped off from the carriage, rolling over to side, eyes watching as the carriage shot ahead all wheels launching in mid air. 

He turned his back upon the scene, a loud crash resonating in his mind as the carriage plunged down to its demise, hitting the rocky earth below.

A slow smile spread on his features as the sound of the crash died down. After so many years, Lestat felt as if he had finally drank until he was full and the satisfaction achieved by subjecting those five to death was an unearthly feeling.

A feeling one felt after succeeding in vengeance, putting out the terrible fire that burned from the inside.

Hell had gained five more wretches that night. And the world had been rid of them as a consequence.

Darkness engulfed him as he left the wilderness, cautiously slipping back to the streets he knew so well, making sure not to let anyone see him in his red smeared shirt. And just as he stepped through the door to the sanctuary of his house, he peeled off the bloodstained fabric and discarded it. 

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