DEAD SEED (AKA "Vampires Don't Exist")

EIGHTEEN: Aimeric's Plan

Aralyn was hanging from her wrists. They were tied together and the rope holding them had been placed on a hook that hung from the ceiling, leaving her dangling and vulnerable. A silk blindfold was over her eyes. Her chest heaved with her gasping breaths. Sweat glistened on her forehead.

Her muscles clenched and she moaned loudly as she shuddered against Aimeric's mouth. He had both her legs on his shoulders as she hung from the ceiling.

"Naughty girl," he said. "You weren't supposed to come yet."

"I'm sorry, Master, I didn't mean to," she gasped.

"You'll have to be punished," he growled.

Aralyn felt him drop her legs and heard him go to stand behind her. He paddled her a few times, though the smacks were weak. He wasn't truly angry; this was just a game they played and one she had learned to enjoy.

A few months had passed. Spring would be arriving soon, though one couldn't tell if they went outside. The ground was still covered with snow. It had been one of the worst winters they had had in years. Blizzard after blizzard had struck, keeping Aralyn mostly indoors.

Once their game was over, Aimeric left Aralyn to hunt. He had fed quickly from one of the prisoners in order to play with her, but now he wanted real sustenance; he wanted to hunt. He kissed her before he left as she lay there, still naked on the bed, reveling in her sixth orgasm of the evening.

When he made her feel this way it was hard to remember how much she hated him.

But every time he left, the feelings of disgust returned, and she was happy to see him gone. Happy to have the time alone so she was free to do whatever she wanted.

After lying there for a while, she got dressed and went to wander around the mansion. The remodels were mostly finished now. It even smelled nice inside the house. Scented candles lit the path along the hallways. The scents were most of her own requests to fit the season; mostly apple cider and winterberry smells. Once spring was here she would request orange cream and beach scents.

Claire had gone out with Aimeric that night. She sometimes stayed in with Aralyn to keep her company, but it had been several nights since she had had a real meal (according to her, the prisoners weren't real meals) and she wanted "fresh meat" in her words.

It was below freezing outside and Aralyn didn't want to go out in it, so she walked around the mansion for exercise. She had explored almost all of it by now, though most of the rooms were locked, belonging to the individual vampires of the house.

One place she hadn't been yet was the attic. She wondered what might up there. Was it just boring storage or was it another horror scene? She went up the twisting staircase that was now beautifully polished, reflecting the soft light of the chandelier that hung from above.

The top of the stairs was where the cleanliness ended.

This part of the house was seemingly untouched by the remodels. It was dusty on the floor when she reached the landing; insect corpses lined the baseboards. The corridor was dark. There were several paintings hanging crookedly on the walls. Other paintings sat on the floor.

She squinted in the dark, trying to get a closer look at some of them. When her eyes adjusted, she saw horrific images of blood and terror, people being bit into and torn apart. Some of the paintings weren't so horrible. Some depicted classic gothic scenes such as a castle on a hill surrounded by fog. However, there were some paintings that seemed even worse than the bloody ones: images of sinister looking men and women with creepy eyes that seemed to follow Aralyn. The eyes were oddly bright against dark backgrounds. They looked demonic and sent shivers up Aralyn's spine as she walked by.