The Blood God

Chapter 6

 Time's passage grew meaningless. Josith knew only restless hunger punctuated by brief, intoxicating moments of satisfaction. Between feedings he paced, fretting at the bars of his cell, or lay in stupor, as oblivious to his condition as he was to the nameless faces of his prey. When would they release him?

Filthy, his hair a mess, his clothes tattered and unrecognizable, Josith lay on the floor. He had thought many times of his friends and family, and of Jezebel. He’d replayed their last day together in his head at least a hundred times, fantasizing about a multitude of ways he’d saved the town, killed the demons, and saved himself.

He had swum in the memory of the way Jezebel’s lips felt against his, the ecstacy of being inside of her, the press of her soft, warm body against his. And even more than that, he had imagined their future together. In his fantasies, they’d had children and were both happy. He’d even thought of names for their future children; two girls that looked like her and one boy that looked like him: Klara, Galina, and Petre he would call them. Jezebel would like those names; they almost always liked the same things.

Now, as he stared up at the ceiling, the deep ache that was once in his chest from his desire to find out if everyone was still alive, to be with them, had gradually disappeared when he realized he was never going to be able to go home. Even if they were alive, they would never accept him. Not after the things he’d done, not after who he’d become. From all the despairing he’d done, he was sure there was a permanent crease in his forehead now.

Josith ignored the creak of his cell door opening until the guard’s black-booted feet appeared next to his head.

 “Get up,” the man ordered. “Today is your lucky day; you are to be taken to see our leader.”

Alert at these words, Josith stood, now used to the new agility and strength he’d acquired. The guard presented iron shackles and Josith put out his hands. Anything was better than another day in this cell.

The guard escorted him through a multitude of sand-colored stone halls illuminated by torches and lanterns, then continued up several spiral staircases. The halls had no windows, and Josith noticed no other enslaved vampires. He could not deny that this worried him, made him feel as if he’d done something deserving of these chains. Not even the humans that passed him by were shackled, though they all avoided eye-contact.

Most of the rooms and hallways they passed through were so dimly lit he knew if he were human they would have been completely dark. His new sight filled the darkness in soft hues of blue and grey. Ascending to higher levels, Josith noticed fewer humans were seen, replaced by more vampires.

As they passed over a long, wide bridge of white stone above a cavernous pit, Josith felt very small. In his whole life, he knew only his little farming town of wooden houses. He’d never once dreamed of anything bigger. This place held architectural beauty the likes of which he’d never seen. In spite of his situation, he could not help but be in awe. He paused, looking above. He had expected to see sky, but large, burning braziers, strung up by chains spanning the length of either side hung above, revealing the stone roof of the cavern. It was an underground city unto itself. From the bridge, the nearest walls were at least a hundred feet away on either side. Multiple levels of wide walkways were carved into the cavern’s sides, with protruding half-moon shaped verandas. Some of these verandas held large pits of smoldering coals, where groups of vampires gathered around the glowing red embers. Dotted here and there were entryways to other areas.

The guard tugged on the chain attached to Josith’s cuffs, forcing him to keep moving.

The upper levels had carvings etched into their stone faces in the shapes of houses, with real windows, doors, and lines of demarkations that clearly defined the boundaries of each home. Down below, all eventually went black and Josith wondered how deep the city went.