1 comments/ 23407 views/ 7 favorites A Sanguine Romance for the Dying Ch. 01 By: UnknownPleasures Katrina opened the window to her bedroom and felt the gentle rush of chill air greet her. No matter how tired or weak she felt this sensation always quickened her. Her brittle body shivered under her thin white nightgown as she looked down to the still busy London street. Carriages made a racket on the cobbled stones, horse’s breath steaming in the autumn cold. She could also see the upper class couples pass under her window, frock coats and high hats laughing and chatting with timid women in decent dresses, white-gloved hand clasping grey-gloved hand as their laughter faded and left Kristina alone at her window. She coughed and braced herself. Nowadays the coughing had worsened and before long she felt the grinding pain in her chest and reached for her handkerchief, coughing in it. Panting, she took the kerchief away from her mouth and looked at the tiny red stain that marred the delicate piece of cloth. The doctor had told her only last week that she might not see the New Year’s bonfires. The consumption had taken a firm hold of her body, and it had no intention of letting go. Katrina’s parents were complacent, realising they could not marry off their eighteen year-old daughter, leaving her be in her room and focusing on Katrina’s older sister instead, a school mistress betrothed to a banker’s son. Katrina lived through her eyes, looking at the bustling of passer-by, dreaming about what they would do, often conjuring up dark tales of murder, lust and deceit in her mind. When she was not too exhausted from coughing or struck down by fever, she would live her lucid moments to the fullest, having adventures in her mind’s eye to make up for the things she would so dearly miss now and in the non-existent future. And of course, there was the book. As she meekly sank onto her four-poster bed, she immediately reached for the book on her nightstand. The tome was bound in brown leather, with bold black letters embossed on its front. “Vampyre’s Malady, a Gothic Novel by Edmund Ruxard”…the title alone sent tingles through Katrina’s exhausted body. She had read the novel dozens of times while she slowly wasted away in her room, but the epic tale of a vampire gentleman falling in love with a baroness always made her forget the pain and illness, even if it was only for a short while. Simon, the tragic anti-hero of the story visits the unhappy baroness in her sleep but cannot bear to become a vampire as well to join her strange courtier. She dies from grief, and the vampire cries bloody tears as he greets the sun for one last time, hoping that God will forgive him and let him join his love in Heaven. Her family did not know of this book, which is full of sexual innuendo and rather explicit scenes of Simon seducing women so he can sate his thirst for blood, and they would surely take it away from her, had they even bothered to check up on her. Katrina opened the book, landing on one of her favourite passages, dog-eared and stained with fingerprints from countless times of reading. Katrina’s slightly raspy breathing increased as she soundlessly read the words to herself, quoting them more by heart than reading them. “With great care he lay the sleeping girl on the soft bed where the baroness lay looking on with a mixture of fear and excitement. Simon smoothed the auburn hair away from her face, raking his fingernails ever so gently across her cheek. Slowly, the nymphet woke up, glassy eyes looking straight at the baroness. “My love, this is proof of what I am. I hide nothing from you,” Simon whispered “this and more awaits you when you accept my cold caress.” The baroness could not utter a word as Simon opened his mouth and revealed two exquisitely white fangs and sank them into the neck of the unsuspecting girl. He suckled on her flesh, whilst his soft hands caressed her between the thighs, the nether regions where normally only uncouth men or stern husbands may dare to stray. The girl swooned and let out a small gasp, as her gaze faded once more and she closed her eyes, body trembling in a final throe of ecstasy before she fainted yet once again. “By God, what did you do to her,” the baroness exclaimed, trying to ignore the damp she felt growing betwixt her legs”, that poor girl…is she dead?” Simon merely shook his head. “My dear, she is now accompanied by demons disguised as angels in her dreams, where… “virtuous lust lulls her to a well-earned sleep.” She read those final words out loud, fingers still lingering around her mound. She brought her hand to her face and smelled her own female scent before lapping up the rank fluid. Lovely Edmund Ruxard. His words always moved her, often in very wrong ways. But what did she have to lose? She placed her hand back whence it came, a fingertip rubbing eagerly on her swollen clit. Crossing her legs, she cautiously entered the anteroom of her vagina, not daring or wanting to thrust through the hymen. The single finger probed gently, as she fondled her breasts, teasing the hard nipples through her nightgown. She moaned softly as she conjured up an image of Simon biting her neck, cupping her small breasts, blood leaving her body accompanied by the divine bliss of orgasm. That’s what she wanted; she wanted Simon to take her away from all of this in one final explosion of pleasure. Katrina gasped for air herself, as she fingered herself to a hard orgasm, arching her back to ride the waves as best as she could. As the sparks faded and her breathing turned back to normal again, she burst into an intense fit of coughing. She turned on her side and retched, every muscle in her body cramping. Another clot came from her mouth, leaving a red smear on the pristinely white bed sheets. She morosely tried to bring her breath back to normal, sucking on her wet fingers to keep the image of her fantasy lover alive. Shivering she pulled the spread over her body, trying to hold back the tears that inevitably show up after another self-exploration. For her bond with Edmund Ruxard went beyond the book. Ruxard himself had died at the age of twenty-four, months after writing the book. He died of consumption, struck down by the same disease that gnawed at Katrina’s body. She would often fall asleep with Edmund’s book clasped in her arms, pressing it tightly to her heaving chest. Maybe the spirit of the book would make the disease go away, but Katrina knew better. And tonight was no different, for she clutched the book closely to herself, turning away from the blood on the sheets and falling into a dreamless sleep. After some time, her eyes sprang open and she sat straight in bed. Her heart beat fast, but she had no idea as to what might have caused it. Could it have been a dream? She turned on the oil lamp on her nightstand, looking around her room. Shadows darted up the ceiling as the light came on, sprawled across the ceiling and the walls. The door was closed. No one would have dared, or bothered, to come in. Everything seemed to be perfectly in order. The boudoir was there, with her brushes and powders. Yet still Katrina’s heart beat frantically. Somewhere far off, she heard the noises of the city, ships coming into port…the window! She stared at the light pink curtains, flaring in and out of the room with the slightest gust of wind. There the shadow of the rocking chair. But there was another shadow there, unfamiliar and undoubtedly the cause of her fear, since her heart throbbed in her throat, as Katrina trembled from the cold and utter fear. She gathered the spread and covered herself with it. “Who is there? Should I call my parents, or the butler? He used to serve in Her Majesty’s army, he’s dealt with nasty men before, I’m warning you!”, Katrina said in a non-too-brave voice. There was no response. The figure shifted slightly, and Katrina swore she could hear the…thing laughing. “Don’t you mock me now! I will get the butler right now, he’ll show you!” Katrina said, her voice quivering. A gust of wind suddenly blew the curtains apart, offering her a glance of the mystery assailant. “No you won’t. You’re too curious, Katrina.” The thing knew her name! And it wasn’t a thing at all. Before the drapes fell back in place, she clearly saw the figure of a young man with flowing auburn hair sitting right there, on the windowsill. And he knew her name. Katrina tilted her head and drew back against the wall as the man stepped through the curtains, grabbing the book again and half-covering her face with it as if it were a talisman of some sort. She hated to admit it, but this midnight assailant was gorgeous. He was tall, taller than most men she knew, and his hair fell beautifully on his shoulders. His eyes were a sparkling dark blue, and his pale cheekbones made him look noble, a prince from an exotic monarchy come to visit London… “I’m not a prince, my dear. And thank you for the compliment”, the man said as he came closer to the bed, not making a sound. Katrina was baffled, but the soft smile on the man’s face made her forget all about fear. “Just who are you?”, Katrina asked with a meek voice, right before she coughed violently from the stress, her body shaking, making retching sounds. The young man rushed to her side and held her. Katrina leaned back against his greatcoat, closing her eyes for a moment as she held in her coughing. She felt weak, chest rising swiftly as she tried to breathe normally. The man carefully took the book from her hands, opening it at a seemingly random page. “The baroness wept for nights on end, grieving for her dark lover who would never return. Oh, how she would say different words now, how she would tell him to hold her, kiss her with all the love in his damned soul, to make her just like he is, to walk under the stars hand in hand for all eternity! Alas! It would never be, and that very night her heart could go on no longer and tears streamed down her face as she let out her last breath. And on that dreadful night, Simon did return. How he regretted the things he said! All during his day’s slumber he vowed to go back just once more, for he could not believe his ears the other night. She loved him, he knew for certain, and she belonged with him…that he knew. But as he stepped into her room, coming in through that blessed window, he found her lifeless on her bed, dried up tears ‘pon her face. He sank to his knees and looked up to uncaring Heaven: “Dost thou curse me again, God! Wasn’t one man’s suffering enough?” And blood streaked his face, and blood he no longer wanted…” Katrina looked up with wide eyes at the stranger. Tears welled up in her eyes. The way he spoke those words, in that solemn tone…he was Simon, he was the mourning baroness. She looked up at him, and saw that he was staring at her, a sad smile upon his face. “I’m glad you like my book, although I think you’re the only one who does.”, he said in a level voice. Katrina blinked. “You are…?” “Edmund Ruxard, that is correct”, he said. He took her hand and gave it a courteous kiss. Katrina swooned, her favourite writer kissing her hand, a cold kiss, in her bedroom. It was almost too much to bear. She shook her head and drew away slightly. “How did you get here? And why?”, she asked, with an indignant tone in her voice. Edmund laughed, a sonorous sound that was warm and comforting. “Well I came through the window obviously, and why?” He shifted slightly, folding his hands in his lap. “I heard you reading from my book and I…was curious. It had been a long time since I heard those words. Ages ago, it seems.” He bent his head, the smile gone from his face for an instant. Katrina pondered this. “You say you’ve heard me, but how? I was only whispering!”, she said when something sprung to mind, and she turned red at the thought of it. “Just for how long were you watching me? Did you see…did you?” She felt so ashamed to say what she had done, little closet libertine that she was. Again there was that wonderful laugh. “Yes, I did see that,” he said “, and I was…surprised by it. But I heard you all right. I can hear anything nowadays.” He leaned in close to her face, his odourless breath falling on her eyelashes. “Do you remember when Simon could hear what the maid was saying about the baroness, and the baroness did not believe it? When the maid was summoned and confessed to it all before Simon took her?” Katrina nodded. She remembered, it was one of the myriad saucy scenes in the book. She loved the near-divine command of Simon, her erotic hero, and now Edmund here… “Is just like him.”, he said suddenly. “I’ve become what Simon is in that book. Not quite dead, not quite alive. A vampire.” His blue eyes shone down on her like a pair of moonbeams. Somehow she felt he was not lying. His eyes had something of a predator, and as she gazed in them she felt the same mixture of curiosity and fear she once had felt when she saw the tigers at the zoo. And the same sensation she felt when she woke up. Yet his face had nothing of a predator in it at all. He looked glum, as if he had committed some horrible crime. There grew a silence between them, and Katrina felt the urge to break it. “So you drink blood, sleep during the day?”, she asked. “Yes, all that and more.” He turned away from her. Katrina looked at the pages of the book and saw red droplets on them. So just like Simon, she thought to herself. Despite the weariness of sleep and decrepitude of illness, she righted herself and placed her hands on his shoulders. Only now did she feel the cold beneath the thin cloth of his coat, a general feeling hanging around him like an aura. She rested her head upon his shoulder. “I’m dying. Consumption. Your book…it’s the only thing that comforts me at night. I read it time after time. Somehow…” She paused briefly.”…somehow your words touched me. As if you knew what I am going through. You do, don’t you?” There was no response. He seemed a statue, uncaring. Katrina felt all hope run away from her. This was not how it was supposed to end. Not like this. “Take me. Do to me what the baroness never felt. Passion from the undead. I want it…it is my dying wish.” She bit her lower lip, nuzzling her head on his shoulder. Suddenly he turned around, his marble face streaked with tears. Red tears. “You don’t know what that passion brings along. How can you ask for it!” He seemed agitated and despairing at the same time. Katrina scowled slightly, stifling a cough. “Then how can you dare to write about it, and now live the very same…life that you depicted oh so dramatically in your novel! The doctor said I wouldn’t see the new year. Now are you going to deny your most devoted reader this wish? Well, are you?” She was crying as well and fell back in Edmund’s arms. He embraced her tightly before laying her down carefully on the bed. He smoothed her soft hair and kissed her gently on her lips, lingering but a moment. Katrina shuddered as his cold lips touched hers and before she realised what she was doing she pulled him close to her and kissed him passionately, her warm tongue seeking his. She heard Edmund whisper her name in between kisses, and let out a small gasp as his icy hand sought the warmth between her legs. Katrina felt a cramp in her belly and looked surprised as Edmund showed her his finger. It was streaked with watery blood, which he sucked up unblinking. Again she felt a cramp and knew that her period had begun. Edmund merely smiled, his eyes dreamy and seductive. “You…you may have it. My gift to you” Katrina whispered hoarsely, as she felt her own fluids mingling with the menstrual blood. Without a second thought Edmund lifted her nightgown over her head and kissed all of her body. Katrina swore his lips felt slightly warmer and succumbed to pleasures, her breathing fast and superficial, pulling off his white brocaded shirt and running her pink hands over the snow-white flesh of his back. Edmund let his tongue swirl around her nipples, making them a flustered red from arousal, hard and firmly pointing upward. He traced the fragile curves of her body and Katrina let out a deep feral cry as his tongue met with her clitoris, licking her lips as Edmund lapped at the cream that seeped out of her vagina. Edmund’s licking became more intense, grabbing her by the legs and lifting her slightly off the bed as he goaded Katrina to her first orgasm. She gasped for air, sweating profusely as she clenched her eyes shut, determined to ride out every surge of orgiastic pleasure. Edmund looked up and met her gaze as she finally opened her eyes again, her breath now raspy as it always is after such bliss. A trickle of blood ran from her mouth, but she did not care about that now. He would welcome it, and indeed Edmund leaned in and licked it away. She could see two small fangs, felt them graze her skin. His face was a bit flushed now, looking very much like her own diseased countenance. “That was…lovely…a great gift,” he said “now let me give you something of my own.” With that he took off his trousers and lay on top of her. Katrina smiled, covering him in kisses. Edmund rolled her on top of him, and put her on his lap. Katrina saw his swollen cock, his pale shaft rife with thick veins and crowned by a wonderfully formed glance, a single drop of dark blood pearling on the very top. Her eyes grew wide, and as if in a trance she wrapped her hand around the shaft and stroked it delicately. Edmund grunted and grinned with surprise when he saw some of his own predatory nature in her eyes. With great care, she straddled Edmund and very slowly guided his cock to her still soaking wet love mound. As the head made its way inside her, Katrina let out a low moan and let herself fall onto it, his full length leaving her hymen torn to tatters. The mixture of pain and pleasure drove Katrina mad, and as she moved her hips up to feel it slide out again partially the muscles of her cunt clamped Edmund’s cock tightly, the orgasm sending shocks through her body. Edmund thrust back, his hands cupping her small breasts. They now fucked each other in a slow rhythm, Katrina leaning back to support herself on his legs. Gyrating her hips, she felt every inch of Edmund’s cock explore her insides more thoroughly than any finger or tongue in the world could. Edmund righted himself and kissed Katrina, his tongue coiling round hers, and he pulled her back down. He pumped her faster now, lifting his own body from the bed as Katrina moaned and called out his name. “Oh Edmund, yes! Take me, fuck me!” Katrina was beside herself with lust, forgetting the clock that ticked away her final days. All of that meant nothing now. This was eternity. Edmund was unrelenting, sliding his cock in and out of her body for the good part of an hour, sending her into new heights of passion each time as she came. Katrina felt her body grow weak, wary of the numerous climaxes. Edmund laid her on her back, never leaving her body and kissed the nape of her neck. “Now…my gift to you” he said in a tone of voice more a growl than a whisper. Katrina gagged as she felt two sharp jabs in her neck and when a whirlwind of ecstasy claimed her she knew what he was doing. She could hear her own heartbeat, and with every pulse she felt the blood, that diseased fluid, flow out of her body and into his mouth. She swore she could hear his heartbeat now, beating faster and steadier with every drought he took, as her own heartbeat became nothing more than a distant drum, no longer of any importance. Still he fucked her, truly fucked her, and the sensation became more intense as she felt life slip away from her. With a grunt he drew away from her neck, his face flushed and eyes sparkling with delight and bloodlust. He increased his thrusts, and Katrina beheld him with glassy eyes, ready to die. “No, you shan’t die, Katrina dearest. Heaven doesn’t deserve you. All the world will marvel at your beauty as I…as I make you what I am.” With that he groaned without sound and pulled Katrina’s hips close to him, shuddering in a tremendous orgasm. Katrina felt liquid fire rushing through her insides, spreading through her body and she seemed to cave in. Screaming, she dug her nails in Edmund’s warm flesh. The flow never stopped and he leant in and kissed her, the same magma now running down her throat. After what seemed an eternity of this sheer rush of pleasure, Edmund let his body sink on hers and they both lay still. A Sanguine Romance for the Dying Ch. 01 Katrina opened her eyes. The room seemed to be brightly lit. Edmund now lay next to her, running his fingertips across her arm. Instinctively she felt at her neck, but the flesh was unmarred. She looked at Edmund, who merely smiled. Katrina got up from the bed and looked at herself in the mirror. There was the same naked body she had seen for eighteen years. But it looked different. Like and old friend she had not seen in years. Her face was pale, but so beautiful. Flawless. Her eyes shimmered and for a moment she was afraid she could not stop looking into those deep ponds of mystery. She felt her nipples, paler than before. She shivered, but she felt no cold. She did not feel much at all; even the old convulsion of coughing had gone from her. She turned around to see Edmund standing there, fully dressed, and pulling his greatcoat close to him. On the bed lay a suitcase, her suitcase. Some of her most precious dresses and gowns were in there. “The world awaits you, Katrina. A new world.” Edmund said in that delightful tone of voice. Katrina went to the suitcase and picked out a very lovely red evening gown, not bothering with slippers. She threw her arms around Edmund and kissed him deeply. He drew back with a small scream as he felt a prick in his tongue. Katrina smiled, two tiny canines sparkling in the light of the moon coming from the open window. “You saved me”, she said lovingly. Edmund merely nodded his head. “No, I only saved what I need, what the world needs.” He offered her his hand and together they left the room through the open window, greeting the deserted London streets, offering Katrina back the world she had so dearly missed as she had glanced at it from her window. Now the world would look at her. And miss her. A Sanguine Romance for the Dying Ch. 02 Katrina opened her eyes, ready to greet the world again. For a moment she relished the cold and dank of the coffin in which she slept. She climbed out, her hair a tangled mess and her satin nightgown crumpled, yet still lovely. Katrina was not surprised to find Edmund waiting for her in the cellar. He was sitting on a simple wooden chair, charcoal and sketchbook in hand. "Hold that pose," he said," keep your hand on the lid, that's excellent, dearest." Edmund had taken up drawing ever since he had joined the ranks of the vampires. In those wonderful first nights of Katrina's adjusting to vampiric nightlife, he told her many stories. About how he was seduced by a young woman on his deathbed, how she had arranged for a fake funeral and how she taught him how to survive well beyond any human years. He also told her that writing did not capture the emotions of people as well as drawings and paintings do, so Edmund had switched to drawing instead. Their rented rooms were covered with charcoal sketches of the banks of the Thames, still lives and Katrina. She watched his hand dart across the paper, eyes flicking to and fro as he sketched with abnormal speed. Katrina waited, keeping her pose and the heavy lid perfectly still. Strain or weight no longer mattered to Katrina. This was confirmed every time Edmund gave her another goblet of blood or let her drink straight from him, two creatures of the night caressing and feeding from each other. She could lift the heavy dining room table if she wanted to, and this notion made Katrina feel even more revived, compared to the brittle creature she once was. Edmund's hand stopped moving and she got out of the coffin, stepping behind him to look over his shoulder. Katrina looked at the stunningly accurate sketch of herself, a waif climbing out of a coffin with a surprised look upon her face. The pin-stripe delicacy of the charcoal lines made her shiver. It was as if she was looking at some kind of demon familiar, a carbon copy of herself in another dimension. She wrapped her arms around Edmund's neck and kisses his fiery hair. "Let us bathe now, Edmund. You promised to take me out hunting this evening." She purred the words in his ear, and a fanged smile graced his pale face. "The bath is steaming and ready, my love," he answered. With that he dropped the sketchbook and charcoal on the floor and pulled Katrina up on his back, who could only giggle as she was swept off to the bathroom, where the porcelain tub let off hot steam, the water smelling of sandalwood and roses. Edmund let Katrina slide off his back and turned to face her. For what seemed to be an eternity they simply stared into each other's eyes, mesmerized by the river of thoughts floating between them. Katrina had found out that the art of not speaking is widely practiced among vampires. Well, Edmund loved it anyway. Their minds instinctively found each other, embracing each other at the end of their auras, telling each other their darkest desires and confiding in each other's immortality. As if ordered to they began to undress each other, Katrina unlacing Edmund's very much-outdated brocaded shirt and unbuckling his trousers, watching them fall lifeless on the floor. Edmund took his time with taking of Katrina's nightgown, slowly pushing down the straps of her nightgown until they were both naked. Edmund stepped into the tub and offered his hand to Katrina, who deftly let herself being guided into the tub with all the grace of a ballerina. Both of them smiled contently as the heavy fragrance clung onto their statuesque bodies, and began to wash each other with their bare hands. Katrina sighed as Edmund's hands passed over her breasts, making the nipples rise to attention. Grateful, she slid closer to Edmund, lifting him slightly out of the steaming water so that his cock hovered around the surface. With deliberately slow gestures she poured water over Edmund's half-hard member, washing it with her fingertips before Edmund closed his eyes and let his cock come to its full hardness. She began to stroke it intently, eager for him to orgasm. She was young. And hungry. Edmund knew this. Each night as they bathed the same ritual took place and he had no intention of breaking this newfound tradition. He clutched the edge of the bath as he brought his body further upwards, signalling Katrina to come claim her reward. Without a lost moment she leant in and placed her mouth around the throbbing pale head, moaning loudly as the hot blood spurted against the back of her throat. Her eyes, blood-shot, narrowed to feline fierceness as she sank her teeth in the flesh of Edmund's cock, wanting only more. Greedily she made sure every drop was safe inside her mouth, before Edmund's orgasm had wavered and had healed the puncture wounds in his flesh. Katrina moved herself up and put her head next to his, closing her eyes. "Who needs hunting when I can feed like that?" she murmured fondly. Edmund threw his arm around her. "I might not always be around to feed off leisurely. God knows what could happen," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "You're never, ever going to leave me," she retorted curtly "and God has nothing on us." Edmund merely sighed and pulled himself up out of the bath, offering his hand again to Katrina as she giggled slightly, her undead heart fluttering at the impending excitement. She had not seen Edmund hunt yet, and she was curious as to how he did it, yet she was also afraid that she could not do it. To force someone, to hunt someone down until they were cornered and could only serve as food to her, and killing...she shook off the thought and gratefully accepted Edmund's gentle rubbing of a soft towel on her back. Both dry, they donned fancy clothing and gazed at themselves sin the ornate mirror in the centre of their drawing room. Edmund, looking like a nomad artiste in his brocaded white shirt and tight black trousers with added mystique through his grey boots and greatcoat. Katrina wore her favourite outfit as of late; a widower's ensemble, complete with a black veiled hat and a tight corset. She loved the look of the seedy widow, bereft of all and giving the hint that she might perform unspeakable acts of sin in order to make ends meet...but that was just Katrina's delightfully sick mind. The streets greeted them heartily. London's infamously thick fog congregated around the musty gaslights that struggled for prominence in the ever-dark night. None of the gentlemen or composed ladies were around at this time of the night; the nights of London belonged to the derelicts, the shivering beggars on the wet pavements, the wide, nervous eyes that lurked in the numerous alleyways and to the laughter and banter of burly labourers in the taverns and inns. This was Katrina's and Edmund's world, this was their London. Their beauty and majesty crowned them as king and queen of all that could hear the bells of St. Mary Le Bow, and whoever sampled every vice and decadent luxury on the East End would someday yield to their opaque and hidden reign. The night was forever there for the taking. They let their feet follow the murky Thames, both of them silently marvelling at the beauty of nocturnal London. When they had stepped down to the banks of the Thames, in a district where no sane gentleman or lady would dare to tread, Edmund suddenly halted and looked around. Katrina noticed that he seemed to be sniffing the air. The bestial gesture surprised her, and she could not repress a slight giggle. "Just what are you doing, Edmund?" she asked gaily. Edmund held out his hand, as if to halt her. Again he sniffed at the air, and his eyes took on a yellow sheen, mimicking the moon above. The hand he held out withdrew save for his index finger, which slowly moved toward the horizon until it came to an abrupt halt. Edmund smiled. "Look, there is our host for the evening." But as Katrina followed his finger, she could only see the churning waters sprawled across London. She turned to Edmund, her expression positively bewildered. Edmund laughed and laid an arm over her shoulder. "Darkness or distance no longer keeps you from seeing what you want to see, my love. Just listen to the sound of my voice, look for the things I tell you to see. Command all your senses and your blood to strengthen your vision. A black house, more of a hovel really, the laughter of women can be heard on the streets, the smell of brandy and absinthe clings to the lace, sweat and semen add to the cocktail of..." Katrina soon became mesmerized by Edmund's solemn voice. Her eyes became fixed upon the very spot Edmund pointed out, and his words tickled her senses. She could see a lady take a swig from a mug of brandy wine, smelled the seed of many men between her legs, saw the dim light inside of the house where she lay on a dirty bed. And then she saw it as clear as she could see Edmund looking admiringly at her, yellow eyes looking into yellow eyes. "That place...am I to hunt there? I thought...I thought you would pull people off the streets and then just...what are we going to in that place?" Katrina felt her mind racing with thoughts; her young undead mind still not that much different from the dying girl who had rubbed herself to her lover's lurid Gothic tales. Edmund offered his arm to her and gently guided her further along the banks of the Thames, closing in on the house. " It is very taxing to just pull someone of the streets nowadays, my love. Besides," Edmund added with his coy smile, "just because we call it hunting, it doesn't mean that it's a gruesome act. You can make it as enjoyable or as sombre as you want it to be." Katrina nodded, but she did not quite understand what he meant. Edmund noticed this and his voice took on a more scholarly tone. "We'll be visiting an old friend of mine, Slouching Roderick. He's an entrepreneur...well a pimp, really. He has helped me out quite a few times when I wanted to dine out, so to speak. And I have arranged a meeting for us so you can hone your skills at seduction in a safe environment." Edmund's matter-of-fact tone truly baffled Katrina. They were going to a whorehouse? She had expected better of him. She stopped dead in her tracks and looked Edmund hard in the eye. "Do you really expect me to just walk in there and drink from some tarts you bought for me? What kind of woman do you think I am? And what kind of sordid little creature are you really?" Her lips were pressed together so that what little colour was left in them was now completely gone and her eyes spat fire at her lover, who apparently was not of such good breeding as she had previously thought. But Edmund merely burst into a fit of laughter that shattered the relative calm of late-night London. "I had no idea that a lady who used to finger herself while lying in a bedroom of an upper-class London manor and who hours ago made her lover cum in the bathtub, rather skilfully I should add, would find a brothel repugnant!" He calmed himself again, but his grin did not vanish, canines glittering in the moonlight. Edmund placed his slender hands on Katrina's tensed shoulders and planted a kiss on her forehead. "You have trusted me until now, and have I ever let you down?" Some of Katrina's tension and anger flowed away under the touch of his hands and she shook her head. "Then trust me now, and know that nothing will happen to you, or to anyone else for that matter...unless you want things to happen." With a whoop of you he picked Katrina off her feet and swung her around in the air, and she giggled and screamed for joy. He was right...nothing would happen to her as long as he was with her. As he set her down on the ground again, she whispered her apologies against his chest and pulled him close to her. "Now show me what you have prepared for me, my love." she muttered huskily before planting her lips on his, two lovers defying the night to defy all that was sensible to the good people of London. A musky heat rushed out to greet them as Edmund opened the door of the black house. The rough-shod place was filled with all sorts of men of low disposition, burly labour men playing cards, lewd women on their laps who poured them more cheap liquor and whispered vices in their ears, vices Katrina could heard clearly and even astounded her. A small fat little man with a grimy beard and brown pig's eyes who sat at the bar promptly slammed the bar and rushed toward them, his grin missing some teeth. "Ah, Mr Ruxard, my favourite patron! How delightful it is to see you again, milord!" Roaring laughter bellowed up from his round torso as he slapped Edmund roughly on his shoulder. Edmund merely nodded and shook the man's hand. Then he pushed Katrina to the fore. Roderick's beady eyes lit up with thinly disguised lust at the sight of Katrina. "Bleedin' hell milord! Your taste in women never ceases to amaze me! I am Slouching Roderick milady, humble owner of this little massage parlour that I call home. It is a pleasure to cater to your needs this evening." He then proceeded to kiss Katrina's hand, and she clearly smelled the alcohol on his breath and heard the greed in his words. Edmund cleared his throat as to interrupt Roderick's adulations and took a bundle of money out of the inside pocket of his greatcoat. He gave it to Roderick and moved past him, dragging Katrina with him. " We will be having the normal room, Roderick?" he asked half-heartedly, already confident that the answer would be affirmative. As they both darted through the room they went past a black curtain and entered a little oasis of cleanliness and ambiance amid the squalor of the rest of the whorehouse. The undoubtedly grimy walls were covered with red fabric, and a large mattress was laid down upon the floor, graciously framed by large pillows, all purple, red and black. Arabian oil lamps were fastened upon the ceiling, sensually lighting the room just enough for Katrina and Edmund to see two ladies lying upon the floor, smoking and drinking. They were dressed scantily, as one would suspect in a brothel, but compared to the aging wenches in the hall, they were true goddesses to behold. A curvaceous dark-haired nymphet looked up at them with glazy brown eyes, her white negligee offering Edmund and Katrina an excellent view of her heavy breasts. She shook the leg of the other girl, a thin blonde with big blue eyes. She stayed on her back, her blue eyes widening as she saw her paying guests standing over her. Katrina could see her nipples pressing against the fabric of her black nightgown and she felt her cheeks flush with excitement. She tried to compose herself. Never had she looked at women that way, but she had to admit to herself that the sight of these two...whores excited her. Besides, she felt something far more intense than lust deep inside of her. Again she smelled alcohol, but a sweet, almost herbal aroma had saturated the drapes and pillows as well. But when she went beyond all that, there was but one scent that overwhelmed her senses utterly. Blood. Thick, sensuous blood. Blood that was hers for the taking. And she was not the only one who was savouring that forbidden smell. Edmund had places his hand on her buttocks, was squeezing her cold flesh and was licking his lips while watching the two women. The plumper dark one sat down on her knees. "So, you're the Ruxards then? The ones who lost their child?" Her stare was fixed on Katrina, who looked at Edmund with astonishment. Then she heard his voice in her mind. "We always need excuses. Our existence is as much a lie as that it's a truth that we're walking corpses. I knew you'd wear your widower's outfit, so I had Roderick instruct these girls. They're all yours to mother tonight." Katrina found it hard to repress her amusement at Edmund's penchant for drama, but composed herself. Her face turned sad and stern as she sat down on the mattress between the two ladies. "It's been so hard for us lately...I miss my darling daughter so much. I can remember how I used to nurse her, tickle her tummy." She pulled the black veil further down over her face to hide her smile. The blonde one clambered up now and looked at Edmund. "I thought we'd be having you tonight, guv'nor! Have you paid Roderick already?" Her cherubim face had a malicious glare, and it was directed at Edmund. He played his part well however, and knelt down at the edge of the mattress. "Yes I have, and my wife needs the attention I cannot give her. She has instincts she cannot express anymore, and she is in dire need of doing so." He gave the suspicious girl a trusting smile. "I'd be ever so grateful if you two would give her the opportunity." But the blonde was still not content with what was going on, and the dark-haired one had lit a pipe and took a big drag off it, the herbal scent Katrina had smelled emanating throughout the room again. The blonde one lay down again, crossing her legs. "Well, I'm not a charity-worker. You'll have to pay me more if you want me to go and comfort some little mum." Katrina felt a pang of rage shoot through her veins, wanting to hurt the slattern. But Edmund merely smiled, reaching out to her thoughts again. "This is the lesson...think of how a mother feels toward her children. Let all the love and gentleness reach out, work miracles, Katrina!" As Edmund drew back and sat down on a rickety chair in the far corner of the room, Katrina did not know what to make of his words. But somehow the feeling of them had touched her, and she set out to do what he had told her to. She briefly closed her eyes, saw herself in a sunlit house full of people, and they all gave her praise and came to embrace her, she was the focal point of everyone's attention. Then she opened her eyes and looked at both of the girls. She touched them both lovingly on their bare skin and the carelessness of opium and bitterness of malcontent drifted away from their eyes. They both sat upright and kissed Katrina on her cheek. The plumper one took off Katrina's hat, letting her lustrous hair flow freely past her shoulders, smoothing it with her hand. The blonde started to unlace Katrina's corset and further relieve her of her clothes. Katrina merely smiled lovingly, and let her girls have their way. The blonde one let out a sigh as she unveiled Katrina's tight breasts, and curled up in her lap, her mouth suckling at her nipple. Katrina moaned softly and placed her hand between the girl's thighs, where wetness greeted her. Delighted she let her fingers slide across the girl's slit, who promptly cooed as she sucked hard on Katrina's nipple. The dark-haired buxom girl had taken off her negligee, and cupped her breasts, looking admiringly at Katrina. She gestured the girl to come closer and let her tongue swirl briefly around one of the dark, big nipples. She squealed and stroked Katrina's hair. "Oh mama, how sweet you are," she moaned, and then joined the blonde, suckling at the other nipple. Katrina graciously accepted the affection and repaid her in kind, her free hand enveloping the plumper girl's mound, and Katrina was now fingering both girls in the same rhythm. The girls moaned and whimpered and Katrina felt her own crimson fluids gathering between her thighs, lust causing her to breathe. She shot a glance at Edmund, who was watching Katrina in her role as loving seductress and nodded his approval. Delighted, Katrina let herself fall back amidst the pillows and let her mind reach out to the blonde one, who shifted the attention of her tongue from Katrina's breast down to her crimson-coated cunt. The girl lapped eagerly at the heady blood that came from Katrina's pussy, while the dark-haired one massaged Katrina's breasts and kissed her hard. "Yes, my lovely girls, show how much you love me, oh yesss," Katrina groaned, straining to look up at Edmund, who had sat down at the edge of the mattress again. A Sanguine Romance for the Dying Ch. 02 He had undressed himself, and his marble chest shone brightly under the Arabian lanterns, his auburn hair like a blazing fire of passion curling around his face and shoulders. He lay flat on his back and lifted the blonde slightly, his tongue darting for the young girl's juices. As his tongue landed on her clit, the girl let out a cry and sucked at Katrina's inner sanctum. Katrina grabbed the girl's head and made her bury her face in her pussy, laughing as she moans under the attention of the blonde's tongue on her clit and the other girl's on her lips. As the blonde looked up to see if she was pleasing Katrina, she saw how the girl's eyes suddenly widened and she heard Edmund groan loudly in that feral way uniquely to their kind. The girl's breath choked in her throat and she buried her fingers in Katrina's snatch as they both raced towards an orgasm. Before long, the blonde collapsed, fingers limply inside of Katrina. Edmund laid her aside, his mouth covered in crimson and his cock throbbing. The head pearled with blood in the dim light and his eyes locked Katrina's in a ravenous gaze of lust. Katrina tore the dark-haired girl off her mouth and squeezed her clit with her thumb and index finger. The girl exclaimed a guttural moan and clasped Edmund's cock with her hand, guiding it towards Katrina's cunt, rubbing the swollen head on her clit before sliding it inside of her gently. Katrina pulled Edmund closer to her with her legs, making his cock nestle deep inside of her. "Let me taste you, my love" she whispered hoarsely to the girl and let her straddle her face. Edmund looked on, slowly rocking back and forth as he watched how Katrina stuck her tongue into the girl's pussy, small canines slowly protruding from her hungry mouth. The girl moaned and leant in to kiss Edmund on the mouth, and he welcomed her tongue as he greedily grabbed at her big tits and started to fuck Katrina faster, his balls slapping against Katrina's well-formed ass. Katrina savoured the taste of the girl, completely casting any previous inhibitions aside. For she knew what waited for her, what she could take whenever she wanted to. She let her teeth graze at the soft flesh of the girl's love mound and then let the teeth sink gently into the pinkness, rich blood mixing with the girl's moistness. Katrina hissed loudly as the godhead filled her mouth, that divine bliss heightening the lurid sensation of Edmund's hardness ravishing her faster and harder. Edmund had bitten down hard on the girl's tits, blood pouring down his face as the girl climaxed in Katrina's mouth, who was lapping up all of the delightful fluids as Edmund fucked her yet to another orgasm, the three of them reeling with sheer pleasure. Having had his fill, Edmund licked the wound closed as Katrina did the same to the girl's mangled cunt, ravished by her sharp teeth and greedy mouth. The girl fell down groggily next to Katrina, looking bewildered at Edmund. Katrina cupped her tits for Edmund, who was panting and near climax himself. The girl started to lick Katrina's nipples again, looking up to Edmund with true slattern's eyes. Katrina pulled Edmund out of her and stroked his cock fast, and the girl aided her in doing so. Edmund arched his back and shut his eyes and with a wordless groan he came hard, pinkish blood spurting from his cock and splattering down on Katrina's breasts and on the plump girl's face. Edmund let himself fall on Katrina and started to clean her up, licking his own blood from her nipples, her belly. The girl went down as well, rubbing her succulent breasts over Katrina's, covering her in a crimson sheen. The three of them licked each other clean and collapsed onto the pillows, exhausted and saturated. Katrina snuggled close to Edmund and kissed him with red-coated lips. "What a marvellous lesson that was. I had no idea that we could do such a thing. Making people feel exactly what we want them to feel." She cupped Edmund's balls, playing with them as Edmund smiled, looking up at the Arabian lanterns. "It comes natural to us. We bring them bliss and pleasure, while we get to see another night. Sounds like a good deal, doesn't it?" "It does my dear, it certainly does," Katrina replied. She looked at the two girls, the blonde lifeless and the plump girl still playing with her breasts, and rubbing between her thighs silently. "Will they be alright?" she asked Edmund softly. Edmund narrowed his eyes. "I think I have worn the blonde out. But she deserved it anyway." His stare was feral again for a moment, but it then softened again. "As for her..." pointing to the dark-haired one," I think she never will appreciate opium again now that she's sampled the perfect drug." Suddenly Roderick reared his ugly, sweaty head, eyes fixed on Katrina's perfect features. Katrina could sense his mind going mad, and clearly saw something swell in his trousers. They exchanged pleasantries as Katrina and Edmund got dressed again. Edmund started out without saying goodbye, but Katrina halted, standing close to Roderick. "Thank you for offering me some consolation," she said meekly, batting her eyelashes at the amazed pimp as she let her hand slide down his trousers. She grabbed his cock hard and jacked it off violently inside his trousers. Slouching Roderick's eyes seemed to pop out of their sockets as his hard, tiny cock got the best wank he'd ever have in his life. As he grabbed Katrina's ass and ejaculated all over her hand, the only thing he could utter was a weak "Thank you, milady" as he was left trembling by Katrina, who joined Edmund who was waiting outside, licking the man's thick seed off her fingers as they vanished into London again, nourished and satisfied. A Sanguine Romance for the Dying Ch. 03 Edmund stood in the great anteroom of his, no their London home. Amid the deep red plastered walls and mahogany furniture, he seemed to be part of the decoration. A statue of a naked young man, with a morose look on his face. Yet the statue could move, and the statue held an envelope in his hands. Edmund willed himself to move, to look at the envelope again. But the only written word upon it, his name, still had not changed. The letters were still in the same narrow-set, curling handwriting. With a snarl he tore the envelope to shreds, clenching the remains in his hand. Upon passing their opulent drawing room Edmund could still see the sunlight fading on the horizon. He moved downstairs to their sleeping cellar, and found Katrina laying lazily in her coffin, the lid pushed to the side. Her eyes sparkled, deadly and endearing, at the sight of her lover. "Good evening dearest, shall we bathe?" Katrina said, followed by a girlish giggle. But Edmund did not reply. Instead he sat down on the edge of the coffin, pursing his lips and staring hard at the floor. Katrina sprang up and put her hands on his marble shoulders, hard fingernails tracing the outline of his muscles just the way he liked it. But there still was no response. Katrina rested her head on his shoulder, whispering in his ear, lips grazing his ear as she did. "My love, is something the matter? Are you hungry, perhaps?" She uttered those last words in a husky tone of voice, one of her new qualities as a huntress and seductress. But Edmund pulled away and stood up. The speed of his movement made Katrina look for support on the coffin's edge, and was greeted by an angry statue leering at her. "There is something the matter indeed, Katrina" Edmund hissed ", and I highly doubt it you can spare the time to listen to it." With that he picked up a ruby red robe and marched back upstairs. Katrina's jaw dropped. She cringed at the sound of glass breaking upstairs. Edmund had never said a harsh word to her in all those years. For a moment she shrank back inside her coffin, feeling much like the little girl she was before she met him. Before he saved her life by making her undead. But that girl had died a long time ago. Despite not looking like it, she was a woman now, a strong woman for that matter. And no one could put her in place like a child, not even Edmund. With a determined scowl she ascended the stone steps and strode towards the drawing room, straightening her nightgown. Edmund sat on a sofa, staring blankly in front of him, surrounded by smashed coffee tables and broken porcelain. Katrina tried not to flinch, but it was hard to see your loved ones in anguish. She walked up to him, crouched so she could look him in the eye. " So, you decide to smash up everything we own like a stubborn toddler because you think of me as a child?" She rested a hand on his knee. " Equals for eternity, remember?" Edmund's eyes softened and focused upon her. "I do, and I am sorry. But it is eternity that I worry about." With that he handed her the pieces of the letter. Katrina tried to make sense out of the ripped pieces of paper, but a single name made a lot of things clear. "A letter from Messalina. But why? I thought you...you had been allowed to leave her." Katrina's spine seemed to freeze. Messalina was the one who had made Edmund a vampire and although she had always been kind to Edmund and had learned him a lot, she had always been something of a stern stepmother to him. And a ferocious killer to others. She was Edmund's mirror image in a way. Where Edmund loved mortals and relished in the thrill of seducing them, Messalina enjoyed to watch them suffer, to feel all of the wrath a vampire can incur. Edmund could not put up with this and told her he wanted to eke out unlife on his own. So why this letter, and why now? She tossed the letter aside and crawled in Edmund's lap. He caressed Katrina's hair and smiled, but his face looked worried beyond anything Katrina had ever seen. " There is something I have never told you. The only unwritten law of the vampires I have not told you, since I'd never think I have to." Katrina looked up, hands squeezing Edmund's flesh. Her grip tightened at what he told her. "The relation between a fledgling vampire and its maker is sacrosanct. When the young one has learned enough, he can start to carve out his own niche in the night. But the one who made him can always call for his descendent to return and act as the pupil again. An unlife of servitude. The Beckoning." Edmund yelped, pushing Katrina's hand away. She drew back on the sofa, face frozen in horror as she put her hand to her lips, licking his blood off her nails. Edmund looked down at the wound and saw that it was already closing itself. Katrina was shivering. Blood pooled down her face. "So you are going.....going to leave me?" There was no emotion in her voice. Her words were a dry statement. Edmund grabbed her hands, put them to his own face. Katrina blinked once, as if the sudden feeling of movement brought her back to her senses. "Yes I am going. And you're coming with me. Rules be damned, I will not be shackled like some undying slave. And I will not desert you. Equals and lovers for eternity, remember?" Edmund forced a smile upon his face as Katrina nodded and buried her face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. He wrapped his arm around her, smelling last night's oils still in her hair. "I will not let you be taken away from me. I...I will fight for you." Katrina's determination rang sharp and clear amidst the sobs. Reverently she kissed the place where she had hurt Edmund, her tongue playing upon the flawless skin. Then she felt his swelling sex press against her small breasts, Edmund's long and slender cock with his rich blue veins there for the taking. Without any hesitation she lifted her nightgown and threw it off, straddling Edmund. Katrina purred, the sheer thrill of two naked preternatural bodies sliding against each other still as intense as ever. Edmund kissed Katrina hard, his tongue as cool as a mountain spring in her mouth. She pressed her hips against his, and with a simple gesture of her fingers she was deep inside of her, the walls of her vagina shaped to envelop him perfectly. Edmund's muscles flexed as she gyrated her hips, back arched and looking down upon her troubled lover, who forgot his problems for a while. A sheen of blood sweat covered both of them, Edmund moaning loudly, his hands resting lovingly on Katrina's buttocks, squeezing the supple flesh as she kept rising and falling onto his cock. Katrina had her eyes closed, swaying as she willed her body to move faster, seemingly melting around Edmund's hardness. She thrust her body down hard and dug her nails in Edmund's chest as she fell into the throes of a deep and all-encompassing orgasm. Her cunt muscles twitched and cramped up and as Katrina let out a crooning moan, Edmund pulled her body close to her and came inside of her. Blood for blood. Happy to be in each other's arms, they lay amidst the debris, frozen in their love, the restless beast of fear and anticipation running amok inside of their hearts. You can have anything you want if you want it desperately enough. You must want it with an inner exuberance that erupts through the skin and joins the energy that created the world. -Sarah Graham- Fog covered the London streets. Even this metropolis quieted down at this hour. The police surely would have halted and interrogated the two strange figures who strode to the outskirts of the city with bold strides. Katrina was dressed in a dark purple dress, sleeveless and her ankles showing. She had fashioned it after the garments Greek women used to wear. Her hair was braided, the thick braid flapping after her as she walked fast. Edmund had donned a grey suit for a change, looking very much like a contemporary gentleman if not for his thick auburn hair that rested on his shoulders. The click-clack of his cane bounced off against the high walls of the factories they were approaching. More and more of these stinking juggernauts marred the London landscape where there had once been lush heaths and trees. This is where Messalina had set up shop, according to the address they had found on the scraps of paper. Edmund scowled at the sight of this place. Somehow it seemed to fit perfectly with Messalina's attitude towards people. Haphazardly built houses were clustered together, their façades already grimy from the factories' smoke and fumes. The people inside were all fast asleep, faces covered in filth and looking almost as pale and drawn as Katrina...and himself. In the dim light of the moon he a crucifix hanging upon the wall of one of the hovels. The countenance of the Christ flashed brightly, yet He gave no hope to the poor people clustered in the cramped living room. You have died for their sins, but where is their Saviour now? But no everyone was asleep. Edmund broke free of his sombre musings and saw that Katrina stood some distance away from him, bathed in the scarce light coming from the factory. It was the place where Messalina now dwelt. Men, women, children...they all lumbered toward the factory doors, or away from it, tired faces gazing at the street, all bent backs and broken lives. Katrina seemed a purple-clad goddess, her arms slightly lifted, her gloved fingertips lightly touching people that come close enough. But as Edmund stepped closer he saw that she was none of the sort. Her cold gaze was fixed upon the factory, ears twitching slightly. "I hear movement below ground. I suppose Messalina has dug herself in." She turned to face Edmund. "Do you think she will let us go, after you have told her you refuse the Beckoning?" Edmund looked glumly at the weaving machines clattering inside of the hall, the children crawling under them. The scent of spilled blood filled his nostrils, making him queasy. What a waste, a sin to die so uselessly. "I don't think she will let us walk away once she has heard the news," Edmund said "do you trust your powers enough by now to use them?" Katrina nodded, but was not sure. Over the years she had grown stronger. She loved walking the streets alone, punishing lechers and muggers who dare to bother her. Yes, she was strong. Edmund had told her of stranger things. Some legendary vampires he told, were able to fly or even change their shape into an animal. He had also told her that Messalina was far older than any vampire in the city. Vampires never reveal the full extent of their powers, but Edmund knew that Messalina was a fierce creature and a torturer. "I'm ready to kill anyone who stands in our way, my love." Not a soul looked up at them as they walked inside the huge hall. The entire place reeked of sweat and chemicals. Katrina took Edmund's hand and he lead her deftly to the far end of the factory. Katrina had not noticed, but small "M's" were left on machines, on the floor, even on some labourers. Edmund knew where he had to go. He halted suddenly, his mouth open in surprise, long canines springing out from his jaw. Next to a door decorated with a far larger sign, stood a small man. He was dressed immaculately: A black coat with a red trim, black suit cut in the latest fashion, red shirt underneath it. His hair was greying at the temples, and a few creases showed around his uncaring eyes. He smirked at the sight of his mistress' guests. "Alaric," Edmund whispered. But he was sure he could hear him. Katrina stepped between the two. Somehow he felt wrong, no heartbeat. She wanted to protect Edmund, yet was tremendously curious as well. The first other vampire she had ever seen. But as this Alaric stepped closer she hurried back to Edmund's side. The man did not walk, he hovered, his feet barely touching the floor. "Edmund, my brother in blood and spirit," the man said as he embraced Edmund. A mock embrace. Edmund pushed him away gently, which did not amuse Alaric. "So have heeded the Beckoning?" Edmund asked dryly. Alaric nodded. " Merely paying what the Devil's due, brother. Come, she's waiting for you below. Edmund grunted and nodded, leading Katrina to the door. She could feel Alaric's eyes burning holes in her back. "Edmund...is he really?" "My brother, yes. In a sense. Messalina made him centuries ago. He was an inquisitor." Katrina nodded in consent, finding it hard what to think of creatures that old. As they walked down steel steps, she kept asking things about Alaric. Edmund could not tell that much: he was Messalina's first fledgling, and after a big row he had gone overseas. She received letters sometime back when Edmund was still under her care, and she would be irritated for nights on end. Yet now he had returned. Edmund grew silent. There were noises coming from below, metallic sounds. And screams. Katrina got that frosty feeling on her spine again. And then hell opened its maw to welcome them. The stairs ended in what could only be described as a lair. A great heat came from an open fireplace in the centre of the room, flaring up wildly, casting a bright orange hue all over. The walls were covered in blood and unidentifiable smears. Fire and blood, Katrina thought, our greatest adversaries have come to fight us. There were horrid tableaux everywhere. There were benches with people strapped onto them. Men, women, children. The very people who gave their all in the factory above just to stay alive. Their screams rang through the room, necks, wrists and chests bitten, mauled, mutilated. Some hung naked from the walls, and were pleasured and hurt at the same time. A young girl was going down on a bloated old man, sucking on his cock while she sobbed. Her thin naked back was covered in welts. The hooded man who held the whip kept lashing out, and she sucked harder. Yet the fat man did not enjoy it: blood and pus seeped from his left eye socket, tears streaming down from his one good eye. Katrina could not help put cover her mouth at the sigh of so much anguish and sheer horror. She was so much in shock that she nearly fell in the middle of a terrible orgy, right on the floor. A beautiful woman with honey blonde hair was being roughly taken by four men. She was forced to suck two cocks at the same time while another would pound her pussy. Another merely jerked himself off over her until he came all over her heavy breasts and walked away. Soon another man came and took his place. The woman barely moved, her hair and face stained with cum, glassy eyes looking up at the ceiling. Katrina heard her heartbeat slowly dying out. But Edmund paid no attention to it. All of his attention was turned upon the stage at the far end of the room. The stage was filled with soiled mattresses and people were either fornicating or forced to do so. Three large men with whips, brass knuckles and knives made sure the action kept going, beating anyone who dared or could not go on into submission. And in the midst of it all, on a large red chair, there sat Messalina. She sat there motionless, her hands pristinely folded in her lap, smiling at Edmund and Katrina. She wore red lipstick, further expanding the fullness of her lips. She wore nothing more than a large piece of light-red see-through fabric, her full breasts with large, dark nipples clearly visible. Her hair was as black and curly as the first time Edmund ever laid eyes upon it, spilling down her back. Katrina threw an arm around Edmund's waist as they both ascended the wooden steps to Messalina's throne. Messalina grinned broadly and spread her legs, revealing her perfect fold. Instantly, one of the men from the mattresses came crawling over and lapped eagerly at his mistress's mound. Her grin became a fond smile as she exclaimed a low-pitched yelp. She caressed the man's hair as her green eyes went back to Edmund and Katrina. "My darling writer has returned," she cooed " , and oh! With a mate!" she licked her lips, those hypnotic green eyes seemingly undressing and dissecting Katrina, her body shocking slightly as the slave still sucked on her clit. "Does this mean I'll be having two new chosen ones in my paradise?" She laughed hysterically, pushing the man's face down hard, locking him between her thighs. Her eyes turned to the ceiling as she muttered to herself. "Oh those endless nights of nothing to do...so annoying. But then I found my true calling, to give mortals pleasure, to give them one last rush of sensation before they pass away..."She looked straight at Edmund, jade eyes burning with something akin to madness. "...and I have you to thank for that, my darling little scribe." Edmund's eyes seemed to be on fire. He tightened his grip on Katrina, and she saw veins swelling up in his neck and face. He was ready to lash out. " What has become of you? Do you really think I'll join you in here in your own private little cesspool? Beckoning be damned, I will not be a part of this! Nor will Katrina!" but Messalina merely held out her hand to Katrina and looked at her with those great big eyes. The edges of Katrina's vision turned green. Everything took on a jade colour, and Messalina's eyes were the very centre of it all. She felt her soul being swept from her feet, and it drifted toward her, away from Edmund. Messalina's eyes were loving her, love and lust and all that is improper overcame her like an autumn storm. Katrina's lips touched hers, a warm tongue greeted hers. Her dress fell off, and Messalina's hands were teasing her nipples, her lips moving down to her belly. Somewhere, someplace far away, she heard a familiar voice, calling out to her. But Katrina did not want to become distracted. She focused on hands parting her thighs, fingers slipping inside of her, gentle female fingers that knew where to touch her. She moaned, leant down to lick at Messalina's lips again. Messalina would take care of her. Would love her, for all eternity. Equals for eternity, remember. Distraction. All she wanted to hear was Messalina's moans, because she was cumming. And she was making sure that Katrina would cum with her. Mmmm, what an honour to cum together with Messalina. Katrina. Katrina. No, not now. So close. Oh God, that's her tongue, yes, yes! She's making me...Katrina! No! It seemed as if Katrina has been keeping her eyes shut for quite some time. Everything was in black and white, and colour only slowly returned. But the reality of the situation quickly became plain to her. Messalina was lapping at the blood that trickled from between her thighs, and she gasped as she saw her own naked body, nipples hard with attention, wafts of pleasure clouding her senses. Green eyes. Edmund was screaming her name, and she let herself be pulled back, caught her dress in her arms without even thinking. Messalina pouted like a small child, licked her fingers clean quickly and grabbed the licking man by the hair, ripping a big chunk out of his scalp before kicking him off the stage, sending him flying halfway through the room. Her eyes had turned red at the edges. Edmund stepped forward, clasping Messalina's throat. He brought his face close to hers, snarling with his fangs bared. "You utter slag! You must have gone mad, torturing innocent people who toil hard just to survive! Who do you think you are, The Impaler! I curse your house and all who support it!" Messalina laughed the madness pooling in her eyes as she clamped her hand down on Edmund's sex. The grey trousers were quickly soaked in blood. Katrina lunged forward, but was picked out of the air and greeted by Alaric's smirk. "This belongs to me, as does your little undying fucktoy. I conserved you for eternity, and I shall reap the rewards of it for all time. All time, Edmund! And I'm sure she's not going to object to it." Messalina spat the words right in Edmund's pained face, but she did not expect Katrina to break free Alaric's grasp. Her fingernails struck true in Alaric's face, digging deep in his eyes, at which he dropped Katrina to the floor. In a blur of movement she was upon Messalina, pushing her pathetic thrown over, freeing Edmund from her vice-like grasp. Alaric flailed around in panic, hearing his mistress's shrill cry as Katrina lunged at her, burying her fangs in her neck, sucking at her blood. She is not worthy of eternity. Within moments, Katrina felt the rush vampiric blood causes. But Messalina was not easily thwarted and pushed Katrina away. As she hit the ground, a plethora of Messalina's followers were upon her, trying to pin her down. Katrina got up and spun around her axis, her nails raking at forsaken flesh. But the throng was too big and she was dragged back to the ground again. She called out Edmund's name, desperately hoping that their tale would not end here in this place. A Sanguine Romance for the Dying Ch. 03 Edmund recovered from the unexpected fall, his sex already healing. He was greeted by a hissing Messalina, her eyes blood-drenched and demonic. He leapt upon the stage, soaring through the air, and threw aside his jacket. Messalina's cloth had come undone and she stood before him naked and wanting. She glanced to her side and three men clambered upon the stage, charging Edmund. He dodged them with the greatest of ease, scooping up his cane where he left it and hitting his first assailant hard in the head, solid oak crushing skull. The second one got in a punch in the gut, but was astounded at the preternatural hardness of Edmund's torso. Amazement would be the final look in his eyes as Edmund wrung his neck into an unnatural angle. The third set off on a run, only to be dragged down by a mob, hunched over a body. Katrina. She would have to defend herself. He had more pressing matter to attend to. Messalina lumbered forward, a torn-off chair leg in her hand. "If you do not heed The Beckoning, you are outcast from all that our race can give you Edmund, do you understand? We will have your heart on a plate!" Her delirious eyes flitted to and fro, and in the blink of an eye Edmund was on the floor, with Messalina on top of him. Drooling blood all over him, she waved the makeshift stake in front of his face. " Nobody refuses my gift and lives to tell the tale, my darling little boy. And how ungrateful you are, first surrendering your heart to my loins, only to stab me in the back!" Edmund struggled under her strength, but then he felt all fear and anger fall away from him. He smiled. "You never had my heart. Kartrina holds it, and takes better care of it than you ever did, cursed or not." He closed his eyes and called out for Katrina, surrendering himself to the call of his blood. Katrina did her best to fend off the pawing hands, the kicking feet. There's just too many of them. She bared her fangs and tore at whatever came close to her mouth, sending some of them away screaming. Despite her peril, she closed her eyes and focused upon every muscle in her body. She felt her strength grow, blood flooding her muscles.....and the waif threw off five grown men and women. She rushed to Edmund's side, seeing him pinned beneath that whore Messalina...but froze halfway there. Edmund slowly...dissolved, his features seemingly vanishing from sight. Mists soon enshrouded Messalina, a sickly green fog. Green. Like her eyes. Revenge. She started toward the fog, but was cut short by blinded Alaric getting up to his feet and facing her. She stopped again, not making a sound. "That bitch....where are you? I will feast on your womb and leave you to brighten a sunset!" Her glee was unparalleled as she grabbed him like he had done before and sent him crashing into the wall, her blood's strength still fuelling her vitriol. The strange sensation of incorporeal form confused Edmund, but he laughed soundlessly as he saw Katrina enter the mists, enter him. Her nails, claws, caught the forlorn Messalina unawares, slashing her throat, leaving her oblivious and as prey to Katrina's thirst. He did not quite register what had happened, wanting to revert to his true self, but so hooked on the feeling of weightlessness. As the mists gathered and became Edmund again, Katrina was crouched amidst a pile of ashes, The very ends of her hair caked in what was left of Messalina. Katrina fell in Edmund's arms. The sweet taste of blood filled her every fibre. Edmund spoke words to her, sweet words surely, but she did not hear him. She felt the warm and steady flush of blood coursing through her veins. A slave and a mistress, within the span of minutes. Together they headed towards the stairs, with Katrina looking at the chaos as if saying goodbye to an old friend. Katrina halted upon seeing Alaric, huddled in a corner. Before even uttering a word, Edmund broke free and lifted the wretch looking down upon his maimed face. "Edmund? Edmund! If that's you, what has happened to her? Is she....gone?" Blind eyes looked at nothing, fear emanating from his wounds. Edmund walked toward the blazing fireplace, flinching at its heat and potential danger. " Her reign of terror is done. But you did nothing to end it, you lech. Your Beckoning comes from the fires." He ignored his screams as he tossed him into the pyre. Katrina merely smiled as she guided Edmund toward the stairs, away from what once was home...to someone. Whoever is unjust, let him be unjust still. Whoever is righteous, let him be righteous still. Whoever is filthy, let him be filthy still.Listen to the words long down, When the man comes around. -Johnny Cash, When The Man Comes Around- Edmund had not said a word in two nights. Katrina had been out hunting, replenishing nothing, but enjoying it still. Her victims still were the same, but she enjoyed the thrill of the hunt a bit more now. She realised the full extent of her powers. On the second night she found Edmund as she had at the beginning of the evening, naked in his coffin, drawing frantically. All of the drawing were of that wretched place, a blind Alaric, his brother, Messalina in her naked glory, dying under her fangs. Katrina's powerful fangs. She watched him, wearing her widower's outfit. She shook her head. "Do you grieve for her, or are you afraid to keep on going now?" She asked dryly. Edmund seemed startled, looked at her as if she were a stranger. He laid down his paper and charcoal, stepped out of his coffin. His tomb. His eyes betrayed him, the sorrowful look made Katrina spill a tear. She pulled him close to her, ruffled his hair. "Then I will grieve with you. My love, my Alpha and Omega." The steam from the tub clouded the entire bathroom. Leaning on the tub's edge, Katrina's body heaved and shook with every thrust of Edmund's hardness. He greedily grabbed at her breasts, as she urged him on to take her harder. She felt frustration in his thrusts, but relished them nonetheless. She turned around, taking his pale shaft in her hands, stroking it as she looked with mesmerizing eyes. "You will cum in my mouth." Her whisper was a command, and Edmund merely nodded. Her lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, and her tongue danced on the blood-coated flesh, sucking it deep inside of her mouth. He let out a hungry grunt and before she knew it, his sanguine seed gushed into her mouth. She swallowed and lapped up the reward greedily, knowing that nothing would stand in her way of having this night after night after night. For all eternity, remember? A Sanguine Romance for the Dying Ch. 04 A Sanguine Romance for the Dying Ch. 04 Boots clicked on the cobbles from afar, out there where the fog still obscured everything from sight. And the girls knew they were expensive boots: they knew the stately way of walking from countless encounters in cheap inn rooms and alleys. They halted, and waited for the man (for who else would walk around carefree in the middle of the night?) to come closer. They saw a man clad in black approaching them, twirling a cane in his hand. His top hat and coat were beaded with dew, and his face was covered by a black scarf, save for his piercing blue eyes. The ladies took their usual stance, side by side along the old gas lamp near the entrance to the abbey. Fanny, lacking sleep and a clear state of mind, bared her breasts, still round and firm with small pink nipples, and grinned as the man's boots click-clacked to a halt and stopped right in front of the women. He held out a black-gloved hand, then turned it to the ground. Ample coins fell onto the cobbles, which cut the usual bidding openings for the ladies off as they stared in awe at the massive amount of money sprawled before them. Fanny's jaw dropped, and a trail of spittle trickled down from the corner of her mouth, while Daria prodded Tessy in disbelief. "Just make it fast and worth while. All three of you", the man declared curtly. From the many black folds of cloth he pulled free his massive hardness, the tip round like a plum and almost as white as marble. Tessy got down to her knees, looking at her friends for a moment before her hand snagged her share of the bounty. She then showed why she got her nickname and swiftly had the stranger's shaft sliding in and out of her mouth with the skill of a professional. The others reached up on tiptoe to kiss their client, rubbing their bodies up against his with all of the feigned passion common to their trade. He gloved tugged at Fanny's swollen buds gruffly. She did not budge, instead she brought the man's cane between her legs and grinded her snatched against it, leaving it glistening with her teenage moisture. He pulled the cane back slapped her upside the head, his eyes narrowing above the scarf. 'you will not use my attire as toys. Play with her" he grunted, pulling Daria's hair and throwing her on the ground next to Tessy, who gummed his cock diligently. Fanny made her hand vanish under Daria's skirt, pawing at her clumsily as she leant into kiss the man's balls. Daria followed suit and before long, all three of them were licking and caressing the man's shaft. The man screamed, a hoarse cry and the women giggled, expecting a royal tip in the form of the man's seed, but instead he dropped his cane, grabbed the outer two's heads and slammed them both into the sides of Tessy's head, who clamped her gums down on his pale head in a violent response. Fanny fell back, knocked unconscious while Daria cursed all the saints as she clutched her head. The man swiftly took his cane and brought it down hard on the toothless wench, the blows coming faster and faster, not even giving her the time to scream. "Bastard!" Daria roared as she sprang to her feet, but a kick in the stomach made her double over. The last thing she saw were black thumbs pressing her eyes deep inside her sockets, black blood mingling with the satin before he snapped her neck and left her head lolling askance on her neck before her lifeless body crumpled onto the cobbled stones. When Fanny opened her eyes, She saw the man towering over her. It was as if an angel had donned the man's clothes, a face more beautiful than any she had ever seen, struck with both joy, hunger and endless melancholy all at once. Then he fell upon her, felt a wave of bliss that made her tummy tickle, and... "My God I'm dying". Her last breath was spent on her first words and her epitaph. A guttural cry filled the grounds of Carfax Abbey, then booth clicked swiftly away into the night, fading as the church bells all over London chimed the end of the night and the impending arrival of dawn's first light. ***** When the sky turned orange, a slender figure skulked in the last remaining shadows of the night. The stupor of sleep tried to cajole her into making her abandon her vigil, to just go inside and sink into oblivion, but she had to wait out until he returned. Soon her struggle was rewarded. Carrying a bundle under his arm, he strode toward the house, slipping in and out of view. It was a new trick he must have learned, one that made it hard for Katrina to see what he carried with him. Sleep made it even harder for her to focus, but she did see him leap up and into the open window. She heard him descend into the cellar, heard the familiar sound of the oblong box creaking open and shut, followed by a sound alien to her ears. It was metallic. Relieved at finally being able to give in to her instincts, yet agitated at the fact that her lover (or tormentor? slave?) moves about without her knowing what he is up to, she hovered over to the front door and went downstairs as well. The bundle was nowhere to be seen, and when her body had fallen into her coffin, she lazily hissed at what she beheld. There was a lock on Edmund's coffin. She collapsed and closed the lid without an active thought. Nobody refuses my gift and lives to tell the tale, my darling little boy. And how ungrateful you are, first surrendering your heart to my loins, only to stab me in the back. Katrina's eyes shot open one last time, before she lapsed into nightmare. Naught but silence and unspoken grievances lingered. A Sanguine Romance for the Dying Ch. 05 Slick cobbled stones made it hard to run on bare feet. Portia kept losing her footing as she tried to get away from the brute that stalked her. The labyrinth of alleys held no secrets for her, and she sighed a sigh of relief when she stumbled into Carouser's Alley, a narrow street with dozens of small pubs with small lodgings on the upper floors. The throng of people, reeking of alcohol and opium were greeted by Portia as the second coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. She looked over her shoulder, body trembling and short of breath, but she saw no sign of her black-clad assailant. She felt some groping hands, but not even these could cause her any real distress after what the man had tried to do to her. She knew she had been very lucky indeed. It had all started off as a normal night; he was customer number three. With the semen of her second patron still partially nestled in her pubic hair, she had sauntered off to a quieter place, not all too far removed from Kensington, hoping for a wayward dandy to hire her for an all-nighter. With her coquettish clothing and frilly bonnet on her head, she looked girlish and demure, and she always made sure she was as clean as possible; a feat not all too common among the other prostitutes around. A lot of them had vanished as of late. The stories of the man in black which killed whores relentlessly and without leaving any trace whatsoever had become the talk of the town, and people saw him everywhere. Everyone, from London Bridge to Bromley and even in Kent, everybody knew of the man who was dubbed the Ripper by the newspapers. But all Portia had heard was about a knife-wielding maniac who had red glowing eyes, stalking the grounds of Carfax Abbey and sacrificing whores for the Devil. She had no idea the man she curtsied to was that very monster. He froze in his steady pace, and tilted his hat at her, icy blue eyes taking her in. They had exchanged few words. "You do not belong in Kensington, correct?" he said. Portia flashed her most innocent smile, making dimples appear in her rosy cheeks and when she shook her head, her blond locks wiggled from under her bonnet. "I'm afraid not Sir, but I sure wish I could live here, in one of those adorable houses. I sure wonder what it's like to live there." She averted her face and sniggered for a moment. She could not recall how often she had said this. It was usually the prelude to a night spent in one of those houses, succumbing to whatever whims one of the more esteemed members of the Queen's society had bred, and she had bred some perverted fiends indeed. A heavy bag of coins made her forget all about the man's strange appearance in his black cloak and face hidden by an equally black scarf. He had rented rooms, and although she had seen more opulent residences, it was still far more impressive than the dingy room she shared with her perpetually drunken father and three sisters, who were all in the same line of work as Portia. When they had entered the main room, she tossed her bonnet to the floor and let her dress drop as well, revealing her pale, but otherwise rather supple and voluptuous body. The man scowled, his hands wringing on the knob of his cane. Portia got aroused despite herself; she brought her hand between her thighs and rubbed at her clit, her fingers greeted by her own juices, she massaged her left breast. "I do hope I meet up to your standards, good Sir" she said in a husky voice", I would not want to see you disappointed." The man removed his top hat and scarf, a flowing mane of auburn curls falling onto his shoulders and an angelic face, all smooth curves and marble skin, with the gaze of a demon prince of hell boring into her eyes. "You..." he said in a voice more like a snarl than anything else, "have already disappointed me to no end, my darling little harlot!" She had heard of common people gaining enormous strength at times of great distress, and the only thing to which Portia could thank her life was this very thing. The man was fast, ridiculously fast, but also very clumsy in his anger. He brought his cane up high and screamed like a beast, but he had forgotten all about the door which he had left open. Every hair on her naked body stood on end as she leapt through the door, dress in hand, and fought a battle of equilibrium with the top of stairs for the barest of a second before she lost her footing and tumbled down the steps and into the hall. Every inch over petite body seemed to ache, every bone cracked and she clenched her teeth until they gritted, refusing to scream out in agony when she needed every bit of her wit to escape this man. She haphazardly threw her dress on, but she already heard the hurried footsteps of the man descending the stairs. She froze as she heard his snarl, he wore his hat and scarf again, letting his cane tap against the photographs on the wall, sending the frames flying, glass shards flying down and landing all around her. She covered herself and turned to run off, tiny shards digging into the soles of her feet. Tears streamed down her face as she ran into the street, but she did not sob at all, her breathing was shallow and she felt her lungs burning as she sped across the street and into the myriad alleys, where she knew she would have an advantage. She heard him scream; desecrating the relative quiet of the London night, a harried wolf's cry, making sure his prey knows he's out there. Portia ran as if blessed with wings. Some forgotten saint of yore must have come to her aid somehow, although the only person who cared about her up there in the heavens she could think of would be Mary Magdalene. The rains came, making her footing more slippery and she fell into dustbins and assorted clutter more than once. But Portia was safe now. She saw no trace of the man in black, and only now it started to dawn on her how lucky she had been; the Ripper knew no mercy, and she was the first survivor of his not so tender administrations. She went into a pub and bought herself a bottle of red wine with the money which she had managed to bring along with her; a lady never forgets her pay. She downed half of the bottle, squinting and making a sour face as she swallowed it down. Her heart calmed down in her chest almost immediately and, emboldened by her newfound resolve, downed what remained of the bottle and threw it onto the floor. The laughter and crude remarks of the gathered men in the pub, nor the innkeeper's reprimand were able to get through to her. She spun around her axis, declaring "I'm a pretty girl!" to her audience and tip-toed toward the door like a limp ballerina. Portia was happy, and she felt like the strongest little whore in all of England. Her bare feet landed on the street and she gazed up at the night sky...and saw the Ripper standing on the rooftop opposite her, black cape fluttering in the wind. She couldn't find the air to scream, but ran off instead. She cackled while she ran. "Constable help me, the Ripper's upon me! He wants to send my soul to Hell!" Some bystanders looked down the street, but saw nobody chasing her, nor anyone to be seen up on the rooftops. But as Portia looked up again and only found the moon gazing down at her, she heard the footsteps going click-clack, click-clack behind her, gaining on her. Then the fear broke through the alcohol and sent adrenaline shooting through her veins. She screamed and ran faster, devoid of any sense of direction, just onward, onward and onward. The rains were coming down faster now, and the cold clung to Portia like a wraith. Then the pavement and the sand gave way to thick, green grass tickling her feet. She had somehow managed to run all the way to Hyde Park. She dared not to look over her shoulder; she knew she was fair game and only had a slim chance of losing him by simply running away until he tired of the chase and gave up. The further she ran into the park, the more quiet it grew around her. She could hear her own heart beat, her own panting, and someone else's. She mustered all her courage to look over her shoulder but lost her vigil at the same time, walking straight into a tree and cracking her head against the unrelenting bark. She sank onto the muddy soil, her legs caving in from loss of control and sheer exhaustion. She saw the silhouette of a great beast approach her through half-lidded eyes, and then she lost consciousness. She had dreamed of dancing in a mansion with a gorgeous prince with auburn hair and eyes of the clearest blue, but her senses told her, one at a time, that were she lay was wet, cold and reeked of rotting leaves and some other, more musky scent. Portia's eyes found it hard to focus. Somehow she felt at ease, lying there under this tree in the total darkness, her hand running through the soft fur of the great grey wolf which tenderly lapped at a huge wound in her neck, then moved his caresses down to her breasts. She meekly wrapped her legs around the animal and drew in breath sharply and coughed so hard it made her ribcage shatter. Her legs were parted further, and the gorgeous young angel with the demon eyes who had hunted her before seemed to melt over her, being formed out of wax before her tired eyes. His nude form pressed against her, and she felt his manhood prodding against her belly. She was dumbfounded; she found it harder and harder to breath, yet her killer did not make her feel afraid right now; it was too late to be afraid. And now her killer smiled down upon her, and she swore she could see tears welling up in his eyes. Red tears of sorrow. "I'm sorry, so sorry Portia" he whispered to her, but she only heard him call out her name, and then his sobs as he kissed her cheek, her collarbone, even entered her as she felt her life gutter out like a candle during a midwinter's night. The last thing she felt was a loud crash against her head and a scream, but as her soul faded into oblivion, she knew it was not hers. It was all over for her now. "Portia, no! I killed you! I'm a beast, an odious beast! May the demon prince of hell come down to claim me!" Edmund screamed his pleas at the night sky, his undead muscles flexed tightly, a pool of blood coursing from his eyes, fangs bared to the cold air. He gnawed on his fist, the same fist which had made an end to Portia's misery. He had wanted to punish her so badly, to set an example of her like all the others, to show Katrina that he possessed cruelty as well, to satisfy that sultry layer of his creator Messalina which now resided within the black heart of his beloved, and to fool himself into believing that acting like her will somehow solve the equation and make everything as it was again. He sobbed and slammed his fists into the tree under which they both lay, sending splinters flying from the force of his blows. His eyes went red with rage as he dug his nails into the small fir, uprooting it and sending it flying with a force that made the ground, and Portia's corpse, tremble. "Come on God! Give me some sound judgement here! Do I need to commit more heinous acts to be punished by You or Your Son? Or am I not even worthy of Your Wrath! Tell me, tell me now!" His screams were menacing and guttural, and his preternatural hearing picked up the barking of dogs and distressed voices in the final moments of the night. Growling, he picked up the body of dear, dead Portia and stalked off further into the more savage part of the Park, and funnelled himself into the ground along with Portia's corpse, the first rays of the sun numbing his mind and scorching his back. God had given his answer to one of His most treasured sinners. Katrina had clipped her hair short for this evening. It looked almost boyish, barely covering her ears. She had coloured her eyes lightly, the only makeup she even bothered with nowadays. It was not a proper thing to do for a lady after all. Edmund had not shown up around dawn, she knew. She also knew what he had been up to for the last couple of months. It was so transparent and downright gullible, really. A child of the night clinging to a ritual in order to feed himself. Like a cat playing with a mouse before killing fit. It was common among predators, but hardly becoming for a blood drinker, or at least that was what Katrina thought. She delivered justice when she took care of the impure men-beasts of which this city boasted so many. She not bring torture an already lost soul. Justice, vengeance exacted for those that cannot do it themselves. It was the same for the man with the reek of alcohol on his breath, even though the night was still young. She was allowed to escape the scent, he only had the copper for a mouth to suck the semen from his balls. He slapped Katrina's head while she sucked on his cock, and he hit harder when Katrina pretended that she liked it. She bit down with cold, uncaring teeth at the apex of his pleasure, leaving him moaning and crippled, bleeding to death. Katrina noticed that she was getting sloppy, Edmund's dallying about was distracting her. She would seek him out tonight. Dirt and dank soil still clung to his cloak and top hat. People stared at him as if he were an eccentric country dandy lost in the streets of London as he passed by. When he was in the sanctum of their home, he disposed of his clothes and prepared a bath. Hunger clawed at him like a rabid dog, making the tattered remains of his intestines cringe. When the steam obscured all of the mirrors in their bathroom, Edmund sank into the scalding water. But it did not scare off the cold in his bones. He closed his eyes, tried to remember the last time he had spoken to Katrina without shouting. He tried to remember what it felt like, holding her in his arms. In all of his defiance to his maker's blood coursing through her veins, making her more fierce a lady than she was before, he had become the same kind of monster he held her for. He should hold himself in contempt, not her. The clear water turned a lighter shade of crimson, without Edmund even realising that he was crying. The water cooled around him, but none of that mattered to him. This madness had to stop, he had to reconcile himself with Katrina, lest all they had be lost for good. He wanted to be things as they were before, before all of the grudges, before the real world of the night crawlers had invaded their private little paradise. Before the newspapers had started to write about him as well, and not just Katrina. All vampires experience something akin to sleeping some time during their existence. It's not the blunt absence of awareness that the morning usually brings, but a more lucid state of unconsciousness. Edmund experienced this for the very first time. He was drawn into chimera of things that once were, those moments of intense joy and ecstasy he had shared with Katrina, him being full of inspiration, a happier person than he was before he had met her. He shook off this veil of illusion, stepping out of the bath with legs of lead. He walked into their salon still naked and the water dripping from his body. He was greeted by the curtains whipping around the room, controlled by the winds outside. All of the windows were open, and Edmund could feel the chill already seizing control of the room. He could not decide whether or not he was still asleep. A petite girl danced between the curtains, flashing a playful glance here, an alabaster leg there, twirling around in a way only a vampire could, turning horrendously slow on her toes, only to disappear behind a curtain again. He had never known another woman whose anatomy he knew so thoroughly. Had she come back to reconcile their differences as well, at the same time, in the same way he had planned? He stepped toward the curtain-draped silhouette at the window, longing to cup her breasts in his hands once more, to know her again as only he was allowed to know her, to be one again. This sinner paid well, and knew what he was doing. By God, did he know what he was doing. He had seemed like a random gallant trying to get rid of his nagging lust by having his way with a whore, but he had wanted to wine and dine her in a restaurant at first. He had even insisted on taking her to an inn ' so she could clean her self up before supper'. Katrina had played along happily, her hunger welling up inside of her like a flood that was about to burst. " I'd rather you do with me what you really want to, milord. I'm but a simple girl that needs to earn her meal. So you'd best be quick." She had cawed those words in a horribly fake Cockney accent. The gentry loved that sort of thing. It made their minds boil over with theories; is she a decent girl living out a shadow life, a foreign girl perhaps, from places like the Carpathians? Those and even more ludicrous ideas had slipped their minds before, and Katrina had read them all. She wasn't prepared for the man kneeling in front of her, parting her legs so gently, like flower petals, and placing his mouth at her folds. He licked her, really licked her, and knew just where to go with his warm tongue. She had buckled off her feet and onto the floor despite herself, parting her legs so that he could reach her everywhere he wanted to go, and she had reached orgasm before he penetrated her, even kissed her as he unequivocally ravaged her completely, well on his way to even deplete her of all her energy. She had insisted on finishing him off with her mouth, cradling his balls in her tiny hand and batting her eyelashes innocently as she faked a gagging reflex when his seed did finally come and disappeared into her dead stomach. He had shuddered and laughed as she asked if it had been good enough for milord. And now they shared a bed. He was finishing a glass of wine, and Katrina had her eyes shut, allowing her patron to rub at her clitoris with expert skill. She was warming up to him again, but she had a promise to keep. And more urgent matters at hand, as well. " Milord, do you remember Elsie?" Katrina asked in her mock accent again. The man's fingers vanished from between her thighs. Katrina went on. " You know, the one who you had quite often back in August, but then became pregnant of you?" She giggled, then her voice changed in pitch, grew more demanding when she straddled him under the covers. The man was aghast, his big brown eyes seemingly bulging out of their sockets. " I...I don't know who you're talking about!" he stammered. Katrina slammed a hand onto his throat, her eyes turning violet, demanding, and unavoidable. " Grow hard and fuck me, you worthless son of a whore!" , she hissed. And indeed, she felt him slip inside of her again, his face softening with passion but without the fear leaving his eyes. Katrina rocked back against his cock, clamping down on him with all the power locked inside her cursed body, and casually tore his throat to shreds with her long nails. A flood of crimson spattered the pristine sheets, covered her breasts and making her nipples stand out proudly. Katrina's fangs became visible, against her will, but it was too late for the man now anyway. She started to rise and fall onto the man quicker, licking her fingers clean, only to soil them again as she rubbed the blood onto her pert breasts. " Do you have any idea of what they have done to her, milord?" , she said as she raked his face open. " They cut the baby out, and then left her to die! To die, to die!" It was all she could do to keep herself from screaming any louder. Her mouth extended over the gaping wound as the man began to jerk his legs. His sex went limp inside of her, and soon his heart stopped beating. She took some coins from his purse and placed them on his eyes, then hurriedly cleaned herself up, covering herself in his coat. When she was outside, she had a quick look around for any witnesses and then leapt upon the rooftops and hurried her way home. The icy wind that whipped her coat around did nothing to diminish the all too common rush of fresh sinner's blood in her system. Yet her mind was altogether locked on a single issue. Edmund's little stint as her own personal copycat had taken care of the " Black Widow" myth that had started to accumulate around Katrina in the newspapers. She had switched to merely posing as a prostitute so that all of the attention would fall on Edmund's shoulders. He had already been dubbed the Ripper, but the police did nothing about the murders as long as it only involved whores. But it had gone on for long enough. Arguments between immortals should be fought out over people's shoulders. She would try to talk some sense into Edmund and yes, apologise to him as well. After mere minutes she landed onto the street in front of their home, bits of frost clinging to her victim's coat.. The little paperboy who Edmund always talks to was walking around, confused to see her. A Sanguine Romance for the Dying Ch. 05 " Madam Katrina, how did you get here...I just saw you at the window with Master Edmund...?" The boy was utterly confused. Katrina, still reeling from the flesh blood, frowned at the child. " What are you babbling about? I'm sure master Edmund would be surprised to see me, instead of..." But as her eyes wandered off to their upstairs salon, she saw it as well. Edmund was dancing along windows with herself. He held her naked body in his strong arms, and they danced with joyful abandon, even showing off their preternatural gifts, Edmund lifting her doppelganger into the air with a single hand, swooping her naked frame across the windows for all to see. Indeed, people had gathered to stare at the spectacle. And they also saw the resemblance between the nude nymphet at the window and the girl standing on the street below, with nothing but a coat wrapped around herself. Katrina hissed through her teeth and hastily ducked into an alley. This called for more drastic measures. She closed her eyes and dropped the coat, using the cold laying siege on her body as a focus. She willed herself to float, to disappear...and she stepped out of the alley again, naked, but invisible for the ballet's spectators. She crouched and leapt up high, rolling through one of the open windows like any master acrobat. She seized the velvet rope that hung from the curtains and jerked it hard, obscuring the room from the people outside. The dance of Edmund and her doppelganger had slowed, they hadn't even noticed her entering the house. Edmund swooned, his head arched back with his eyes closed. The image of herself gnawing at Edmund's neck was enticing, but the sight of Edmund's countenance turning grey and wrinkled was far from alluring. The person tore herself away from Edmund's throat and rubbed his blood all over her face. It was then that the illusion fell away, giving Katrina the opportunity to see who this person really was. His features were squat, grey wisps staining his otherwise dark hair at his temples. He was even clothed in a long black coat. Katrina recognised the red trim. A growl escaped from her throat. " Alaric!" Katrina screamed as she flung herself at Edmund's assailant, appearing before him in mid-air when it was already too late to duck out of the way. Her nails dug into his face, reaping Edmund's fresh blood as a reward. Alaric let out a yelp, but managed to clasp his hands tightly around Katrina's wrists, using her momentum against her as he crashed onto the floor, lunging her toward the wall. Plaster and paintings tumbled to the floor as Katrina crashed right into the wall, but she was up to her feet again quickly to dodge a blow dealt out by Alaric. He tore right into the wall with his fist, giving Katrina a moment to spare. She dove through Alaric's legs and grabbed his hair with both hands, crying out maniacally as she pulled down with all of the strength she could muster. His back was pressed against hers, and she sneered with glee as she heard the wet and cracking sound of Alaric's scalp and neck giving way under her immense strength. When she let Alaric's hair go, her hands were covered in blood and gore. She relished in her glory for a moment, sampling Alaric's taste. Silence had filled the room, but as Katrina turned around to face her opponent, doubtlessly in tremendous pain, Alaric had gone. Draped only in a red stole, there sat a gorgeous woman with thick dark-brown hair and demanding eyes, covering her bountiful breasts with her arms. A smile made her full lips curl. She smiled at Katrina. Katrina instinctively took a step back. " Surprised to see me, my darling little puppet?" Messalina cooed, getting on all fours and crawling towards her like a stalking leopard. She could hear that husky voice in the back of her head, the words reverberating in her ears. She shook her head wildly, her gore-spattered face aghast. " I killed you, I took you inside of me, you slag! You're not real, quit playing your tricks, Alaric. I see through you." Her voice was firm, but memories flooded Katrina's mind. Messalina and Alaric sitting on what appears to be a stone altar in the middle of a forest. Alaric wear the garb of a cleric, yet Messalina pays no heed to chastity. Her mouth pleasures Alaric, who seems to feint on the altar. Then he is straddled by Messalina, who makes a tiny cut above her left nipple, and lets Alaric suck at her teat....his manhood has been bitten off, yet the wound is rimmed with dry blood. It was enough for Alaric to distract Katrina and send her flying through the house with a single blow. She may be the more powerful one, but Alaric has the guile and cunning of someone who has survived well beyond his mortal days. The memories do not leave Katrina until she feels brick and mortar cutting and bruising her body as she flies through the wall, into her own bedroom. She could feel that several bones had been cracked. She had smacked into the large oaken linen closet, and the door unhinged, landing on top of her. When it was tossed aside with childish ease, it was Alaric standing over her again, further working his blood magic on the wound Katrina has caused. His voice was still gritty. Apparently his vocal chords had gotten a piece of the action as well. " Stupid little girl, couldn't you even remember what crimes you have committed upon my maker? Or do you really have no idea of what kind of power lies inside of you?" Alaric gritted as he knelt in front of Katrina. Before she could retort, Alaric had a vice-like grip on her throat and lifted her out of the closet with the greatest of ease. He pulled her face close to his with a quick jerk, snapping Katrina's neck. He studied her head lolling about on her useless neck the faintest of smiles appearing on his face. His free hand started to explore her mangled body, straying at the knee and giving it a slap with the flat of his hand. Pain surged through Katrina's body as her knee was totally shattered. Alaric laughed, his voice raspy. " I've never seen a doll so easily broken, my little fairy godmother" he chattered away at her, raking his nails along her belly, sinking them into her breast, licking up the blood from his fingers as if sampling a hors d'oeuvre. He then flung her onto the bed and started to unbuckle his trousers. " I know this may seem a bit farcical, but it will feel so much better when I at least pretend to rape you while I take back what is rightfully mine" Alaric muttered as he sank onto his knees opposite of Katrina. Her head lay to one side, and all she could see of him was his completely sexless lower body, that then came to rest on top of her. He rubbed his body against hers, mocking the blissful act of intercourse as she felt his canines sink between her mangled neck and shoulder blade, drawing blood immediately. A vampire's kiss equals lust far better than regular lovemaking, and moaned despite herself, all sounds and emotions being drowned out, save for Alaric's laughter near her ear, his fingers pawing clumsily between her legs, pressing his thumb down on her clit. Then Alaric grew silent, jerked spasmodically and then fell stock still on top of her. He no longer stole her blood. She could only vaguely make out Edmund standing there, throwing Alaric onto the floor with something protruding from his back. He also held something in his hand, but he had no idea as to what it really was. Then her eyes grew heavy and she was lost to an ocean of images and recollections, all but dead to the world. Katrina dreamt of a warm, safe environment. She couldn't place it, but it seems as if she were floating somewhere. Hands caressed her, rubbed at all of the places where she had gotten hurt. The dream grew more lucid, she guided the hands to the places that were injured the worst, relishing the soothing motions of fingertips on fractures, bruises. Katrina felt up the arms of her healer, and she surfaced from the warm waters she was in. She was greeted by mist...and the sight of her saving angel. His radiant face, framed by auburn curls, greeted her, came closer, and he kissed her on the mouth. All of creation seemed to erupt inside of her, speeding her away from her dream, making her struggle in the angel's arms. The mists cleared in Katrina's mind. She was splashing around in her all too familiar bathtub, with Edmund pulling his bloodied mouth away from her, trying to restrain her in his grasp, trying desperately not to hurt her. She looked at him strangely, distrusting him. Edmund looked very much like he always does, there was no sign of decrepitude or anything as when she last saw him. "Do you still hurt, Katrina?" he said. He had folded his hand on the edge of the tub. She indeed felt a lot better. She could move every limb again, and realised that her head was not askew anymore. Quite the comfort. " I...I feel alright." she replied. "And you? I thought you were..." she couldn't bear to finish what she wanted to say. The thought of Edmund laying there, deathly grey and desiccated, a husk of himself. Katrina sighed and continued. " How did you pull through? And where is Alaric?" She stood up in the tub, looking around frantically, expecting him return any moment. With friends, perhaps. Edmund fetched a large towel and wrapped it around her, guiding her out of the bath. He started to rub her dry. Him being close made her feel comfortable and safe at once. Yet Edmund's eyes were grim. " Come. I'll show you. But let's get you dressed first." Katrina hurriedly donned some clothes and took Edmund's greatcoat for extra warmth. Edmund himself was in his simple dress shirt, escorting her to the large communal garden outside. It was an idyllic place: there were plenty of firs scattered around the yard, with flowerbeds, now barren in winter, but who would bloom and give off sweet scents in the spring. The garden was dominated by a robust oak that stood near a small pond. It was partially obscured by big rhododendron bushes. A small fire crackled in this little outcropping, and something lay beneath a filthy rag next to the fire. Edmund stepped forward and brusquely pulled the fabric away. There lay Alaric, his face frozen in a look of surprise, mouth half-open, even some dried blood at the corners. A leg of one of their sturdy dining room chairs was planted firmly in his chest. Katrina expected to feel delighted, but the sight of him lying there brought fear rather than exultation to her. Was it this easy to render a creature like themselves immobile? " His greed got the better of him. He wanted the richest blood, the blood of his mother in darkness. So he went after you, went for the kill in your case. I was nothing more than an opening course in his blood-addled mind." Edmund's words betrayed no emotion at all. Instead he stepped back and draped an arm around Katrina again. He snuffed. " He did get me at my most vulnerable moment, though. I came to settle things with you, and there you was, as beautiful as ever...I..." he balled his hands into fists, and Katrina could hear the knuckles cracking. She merely stood up on her toes and kissed him. " He had me fooled as well, my love. And I came home to do the same." She kissed him again, whispering the words against his cheek. Edmund warmed to her, embraced her tightly. " We forgive each other then?" he whispered meekly. Katrina smiled, buried her face in his shirt. " Yes" she said ", now let us pray that the mortals will do the same. Ripper." She realised the joke was not at all suitable and stepped away from Edmund. She looked at Alaric again, frozen forever in his fatal error. " What do we do with him?", Katrina asked. Edmund ran a hand through his hair, then shot forward and picked Alaric up. " The fire will cleanse him" he replied firmly. Every night has a moment when everything is perfectly still. It is the last hour before dawn, but the night seemed brighter this time, and it was not completely quiet. Katrina lay staring at the stars, her hands holding Edmund's coat tightly. Every time Edmund let his blessed tongue run along her pussy, she moaned loudly, completely lost to Edmund, her lover, her angel again. She wet her fingers with blood that pearled on her folds, teased her stiff, pale nipples with them, hurrying herself to orgasm. When her body started to thrash and she flowed her crimson reward into his mouth, Edmund grabbed her body and let her slide onto hard sex. He held her tightly, kissing Katrina, his passion-marred eyes staring to hers, as their tongues mimicked the cadence of their lovemaking. His thrusts were slow, he was savouring every sensation of his swollen tip rubbing against her clitoris as if it were the last time. Katrina moaned louder and louder, holding onto Edmund's locks to keep herself from collapsing. Her face was flushed as if alive. " Oh how I've missed you Edmund, how I've missed your cock inside of me! Ride me Edmund, I'm yours!" she sobbed, totally enslaved to her man. Edmund took up the challenge, clasping her buttocks and rocking up against her faster, gasping as he felt his own orgasm making her mound slicker, which only further enticed him. He turned her around and took a handful of Katrina's hair, seeking out her tongue again as he mounted her from behind, the steam wafting from their immortal bodies in the freezing early winter morning. Alaric's funeral pyre had burned down to nothing but embers. Katrina's body gave way to another orgasm, thrashing back wildly as Edmund's cock reached deep inside of her, screaming in obscene delight. Lights came on in various windows surrounding the garden. They both felt the pulling of dawn upon their souls. They made their way inside, to their coffins, but they shared just one this morning. Katrina hadn't even noticed the faint smell of blood coming from Edmund's coffin, but as soon as she had her lover in her velvet-lined tomb, she straddled him again and bore down ferociously on his hardness. The wood of the box creaked every time she let his hardness sink deep inside of her, working her muscles to cling onto it until she tore free of it and plunged down on his cock again. " Too much," he whispered," it's too much Katrina...we'll fall into slumber with the rays of...oh Lord" Edmund lost it as the coffin lid closed on him, Katrina laying at his feet, curled up around him with her backside pointing at her face. She took his member in his hand, her tongue coating the magnificent tip in crimson. " You'll come by dawn, dearest, cum by dawn." How she had missed their union, how had she missed his little sounds of pleasure. How she had missed his fingers playing with her backside, having almost forgotten how fast it could make her come, especially with a single finger coaxing her clit into surrendering once more. Slumber fell over both of them mid-orgasm. Katrina closed her eyes with Edmund pinkish blood on her lips, her tongue, a single jet splashing onto her face. They both slept well that day. There was no newspaper delivered to their home the next evening. A casual observer could have seen a man in a grey greatcoat stalking around the grounds of Carfax Abbey, examining a shallow grave where constables had found the corpse of a prostitute by the name of Portia that morning. The man placed the body of a small child in the very same spot. He had no wounds, but a simple autopsy would show exsanguination as the cause of death. It was a quiet night, save for a lone wolf that howled at the stars, howled a eulogy that no one could understand. But the wolf understood it. He had written it with his own fangs.