Chapter Text
Sometimes Ethan wished Jack to have killed him back then in Louisiana. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to go through this unbelievable shit. Vampires. He was captured by a band of goddamn bloodsucking witches.
Their ‘Mother’ didn’t seem to like his blood much though, as she made a face at him while drinking from his freshly cut hand.
No other monster that took a bite from me before complained… Damn spoiled aristocracy.
“Starting to go a little stale.” The towering woman muttered, before wiping his blood from her mouth with a little handkerchief offered to her by a normal-sized red-headed witch.
Does it mean they will let me go then? I have to find Rose…
“Then let us devour his man-flesh quickly, mother!” The aforementioned redhead mumbled excitedly, while giving him a wide, happy smile. She didn’t even seem malicious, despite her callous words, just happy.
Of course they won’t just let me go… Think Winters!
Glancing at the brunette vampire bitch in the back, Ethan couldn’t help but gulp, seeing her shaky form. Her eyes were sparkling with unbridled sadism while her blood-smeared lips were twisted in a vicious grin. Her gloved fingers were twitching erratically, as if she had to mentally restrain herself from having her way with him right here, right now.
“But I am the one who captured him!” Protests the blonde witch to his right, the one who first hooked her wicked scythe through his leg. She was looking at him with a neutral expression as she spoke.
“Now, now, daughters. First, I must inform Mother Miranda. But later... There will be enough for everyone.” Pronounced the enormous woman in the white, with finality in her tone. Clearly, she was the alpha in this monster’s den.
“Put him up.” She continued, calmly motioning up with her hands. Ethan immediately became aware of vicious-looking hooks on both sides of him at her words.
You gotta be kidding me…
“Yes mother…” Says the red-headed vampire to his left, grabbing a hook in one hand and his own already brutalized left hand in another. She sounded as if she was a kid who was denied a toy she really liked in a store, and not as someone who was about to impale a living human’s arm with a bladed instrument.
“Mother, wait!” unexpectedly pipes up the blonde witch. The unbelievably tall vampire matriarch looks down at her with a frown, clearly unhappy about being second-guessed. The redheaded witch stops dead in her tracks, still clutching both his hand and a hook.
“What is it, daughter?” The hatted lady asks the much smaller woman. The latter meekly answers, obviously in discomfort at defying her mother’s initial command: “Perhaps...if Mother Miranda is interested in this human, the dungeons would be a better choice to put him in...Seeing as the last human we hooked up here succumbed to an infection, coupled with blood loss within days… Just a thought, Mother, forgive my impudence.”
Wincing at recalling that particular incident, the tall woman’s frown morphs into a loving smile, as she gently pats the blonde witch’s head. “How blessed I am to have such an intelligent child. It is as you say, my love, I keep forgetting how frail these things are.” She says, accompanying the last part with a disgusted sneer aimed at Ethan, as if his mere presence offended her immensely. Still having her gigantic hand on the blonde witch’s head, she motions outside the room while saying: “Attend me, daughter, I have things to discuss with you.” Addressing the other two witches, she continues: “Cassandra, Daniela. Bring the man-thing down to the dungeon cell, my dears. I trust you won’t play too rough with him on the way?”
The brunette vampire, instantly at his side, takes hold of his arm roughly, while answering: “Of course not, Mother.” Satisfied, the matriarch leaves the room along with the blonde, neither sparing him another glance or word as they depart. The redhead takes his other arm, and giggling madly, the vampire bitches fly him through the castle at a breakneck speed.
Arriving at what looks like a medieval dungeon, the witches roughly shove Ethan into one of the cells, still giggling as if this trip was the most hilarious thing they have experienced in a while. Striking the cell wall hard from the vampire’s unnatural strength, Ethan falls down on the cold stone floor, the cunts still leering over at him in sadistic glee. The redhead takes in every part of his body with a smirk on her blood-smeared lips, while the brunette takes several small steps towards him, twitching fingers gripping her cruel sickle unsteadily. The latter’s gaze is glued to Ethan’s own now.
“I say we have earned a taste for our hard work, don’t you think so, dear sister?” mumbles the brunette, even as she gives Ethan a wide grin that would give even Jack run for his money in its silent menace. “I think so too, Cass! Surely Mother won’t punish us for just a bit of his delicious smelling man-blood?” Answers the redhead, as she stares at the man with undeniable hunger in her molten-gold irises.
Suddenly remembering that the witches didn’t even disarm him from before, and not wanting to become a meal for the monsters about to tear into him, Ethan grabs his cheap LEMI sidearm and, without aiming, shoots the brunette three times, center mass. The whole maneuver took less than a second, not enough time even for these supernatural creatures to react. Unfortunately for Ethan, they didn’t even need to. The bullets pass through the still-grinning woman without meeting much resistance before impacting the wall behind her with a resonating thump. Small black splotches of her vile blood as well as the holes through her robed dress are the only indication that she was shot at all. If the witch is bothered by the fact that she was just shot three times, she doesn't show it. Instead, she merely, very slowly, almost sensually, glides her gloved fingers over the struck area, before taking them up to her mouth, licking up the black fluid, not breaking eye contact with the man. Both Ethan and Daniela-the redhead are mesmerized by the gesture, not moving a muscle. Brought out of her trance, Daniela swiftly turns her head towards Ethan, eyes wide in mischief. “Bad boy! You ruined Cassandra's dress!” She yells out in a playful voice, before clapping her arms as if entertained by a particularly interesting show.
Turning his head towards her, Ethan is treated to an excruciating pain as the moment he breaks eye contact with the brunette, she leaps upon him with inhuman speed, striking his wrist with the palm of her right hand so hard that the man drops his gun. In that same breath, with her other hand that has somehow produced a dagger from her long robed dress, she savagely slams it hard through his now open palm; not missing a beat, the witch slams her knee in his crotch brutally, finally making Ethan scream out in pain. As if aroused by his anguished cry, the witch, her face now inches away from his own, licks her own black lips. Her bright, almost glowing yellow eyes still boring holes into his own, she whispers to him in a barely audible, shaky voice: “When you are in my presence...You look me in the eyes...Do you understand me, man-blood?” Not wanting to give the cunt the satisfaction, Ethan just glares balefully at her.
Only exhilarated by his display of defiance, the witch brings her head back, letting out a loud, booming laugh that slowly morphs into her more usual sadistic giggling. Ethan takes the moment to take a look at his still impaled right hand, the witch still holding the dagger that pierces through it tightly. Too late he realized his mistake, as the brunette suddenly and without warning viciously headbutts him with her forehead right in the bridge of his nose, breaking it with a loud crunch. Savagely yanking the knife out of his palm, she backs off a bit, taking the time to lick his blood off the edge, her eyes never leaving his own for a moment. Clutching his bloodied and broken nose, Ethan stares back at her, not wanting to provoke the psychopath further. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spots the redhead’s form, crawling below, trying to catch droplets of his blood with her mouth.
“Mother said you’re stale… but I think you’re delicious!” The witch mouths off, as she licks her blade clean of his blood. Finishing the process, she lets out a small moan of pleasure, apparently really taking a liking to his life-giving fluids.
I think I liked it more when they didn’t get off of my blood, after all…
Once again getting into Ethan’s face, and gently nudging Daniela away with her shoed foot, Cassandra gives the man a wide smile, before grabbing his left hand, the one a lycan dined on before, with her own free one. Still staring him right in the eyes, she says, in a calm, measured voice: “You think you know pain, man-blood? You know nothing. But don’t you worry your pretty little head over it. I will teach you everything there is to know...” She then lifts the mauled appendage in between their mouths, before shoving the unwounded part against his own closed mouth. Closing her eerie yellow eyes for once, she takes a sniff at his, by now, dried blood, before opening them again and, without warning, biting deep into his already terrible wound. The pain that follows is, true to her word, nothing like he felt before. Her uncomfortably human-like teeth radiate unspeakable agony through his sore and sensitive flesh. Ethan’s anguish being so great, the man actually bites into his own unblemished part of the hand that was shoved against his mouth. Apparently having had enough, with a violent tug, she tears off from his hand and backs off. The pain Ethan felt at the motion was truly exquisite. The cannibal whore just stands still now, her visage covered in his blood, still staring right at him, while chewing up the flesh she has bitten off.
Not a moment passes before her spot is taken by the redhead, who shoots up from her previous space at the floor to grasp his brutalized hand, licking every drop of blood on it off. After the unspeakable agony prior, Daniela’s warm, soft lips actually have a moderately soothing effect on the man. Seeing his features relax somewhat, Cassandra scoffs and says, mockingly: “You should be happy Daniela had her fill right before you came blundering into our home, man-blood. You won’t like her when she is hungry, I assure you.” Daniela stops for a second, suddenly looking like a kid who was caught with her hand in a cookie jar, before continuing sucking and licking his hand. Meanwhile, the brunette approached Ethan from the other side, patting him down roughly, making sure to confiscate all of his items. Unceremoniously tossing her every find outside the cell, she concludes the search with a satisfied nod, still keeping her eyes locked to Ethan’s own, the man answering in kind, knowing better than not to by now. Tugging at Daniela’s dress, she mutters: “We are done here, for now. We will be seeing you soon again, though, man-blood.” As if a kid who had her lollipop taken from her, Daniela pouts but follows her older sister along, giving Ethan a cheerful wave and a wink on her way out.
Locking his cell door with a loud clunk, Cassandra attaches the key to his prison to the weird assortment of jewelry that she has around her neck. Giving him a mocking wave of her own, she finally breaks eye contact before turning around and walking off, Daniela following along.
“Fucking psycho bitches…” mumbles out Ethan, loud enough for the witch’s sharp ears to pick it up. All he receives back is a sadistic giggle, no doubt promising him more inhuman torment later. Exhausted and drained, his body at it’s limit from all the damage it took in the village, the witches torture being the last straw, Ethan collapses in a heap, adrenaline no longer keeping him awake, unconscious.
***
Some time later, Ethan awakens, feeling something touching his body, his many wounds still sore and aching badly.
God, this wasn’t a dream, was it?
Opening his eyes, he is treated to a sight of the blonde vampire crouching over him, in the process of bandaging his mutilated hand.
Immediately recalling her insane face over him when they first met; how she brutally hooked her sickle into his leg, the man jumps away from her, while yelling out a panicked “Jesus Christ!”
The blonde witch, seeing him awake and moving, sighs before saying, in a remarkably less psychotic voice than he expected: “Don’t move so suddenly, you’re wounded.” Shocked at the obvious observation made in such a calm delivery, contrasting his previous experience with them sharply, Ethan can only stare dumbly at the witch. Still crouched, she looks back at him evenly, her visage an epitome of neutrality. Her face no longer covered in blood, Ethan can’t help but note that she is kind of pretty… or would be if she wasn’t a sadistic cannibal witch. Gathering his wits together, he finally comes up with a satisfying answer.
“Of course I am wounded, you crazy vampire bitches made sure of that!”
Clearly not impressed with his response, the blonde scoots closer, once again grabbing his mauled left hand, before continuing her previous work. “Your hands need attention, man-thing.” she notes offhandedly, not looking at him.
Thank God this one doesn’t demand me to look her in the eyes non-stop as well...
Remembering that this was the one witch that spared him from being hooked through his arms, he lets her do her work in peace and quiet, for a while.
She is trying to keep me alive for now; she said ‘Mother Miranda’ is interested in me? Who the fuck is that? I guess someone important around here…
Finishing bandaging his left hand, the witch moves on to his right one, looking at his newly-obtained hole in it with calm detachment. Applying some disinfectant to it before bandaging it as well, she curtly notes: “My dear sister did a number on you already.” Astounded at her power of observation, Ethan can only gawk at the blonde girl working on his injuries. Done with his hands, she switches her attention to his broken nose. Making a displeased grunt, she says only: “This will hurt a bit.”
Not giving the man time to prepare, her nimble fingers, bereft of gloves, Ethan notices only now, shoot up to his face before realigning his nose in a single, smooth motion. It hurt more than a bit.
Giving him a once-over look, seemingly satisfied with her work, the witch puts her medical supplies back into what looks like a small doctor’s bag next to her. Taking some wet cloth out of it, she proceeds to clean dried blood off his skin. Surprised at the unnecessary gesture, Ethan finally breaks the silence.
“What are you playing at now? Just kill me now and be done with this game…”
The witch just hums softly, still not looking him in the eyes, before answering: “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Unfortunately, Mother Miranda wants you alive, man-blood. I would have put you out of your misery already, otherwise.”
“Psycho cannibal witch…” mutters out Ethan, not happy with the prospect of delayed execution. The witch just giggles in response, her laugh bereft of Cassandra’s cruelty. She finally stops her work and looks him in the eyes, her molten gold orbs surprisingly soothing. “Wrong on all three counts.” She says, somewhat jovially. Ethan can only grumble out a surprised “What…?” at that.
Seeing his bewildered expression, the blonde witch shows him her hand, three delicate fingers up, mirth sparkling in her eyes: “I’d like to think I am quite sane, actually.” She takes one finger down. “I don’t have any magical or supernatural powers that I am aware of, and I am not known to practice the occult.” She takes the second finger down. “Finally, to be a cannibal, by definition of the word, I would need to consume a member of my own species.” Her outstretched hand suddenly transforms into a swarm of large flies, still in the rough but clearly visible shape of her hand with that one finger up. As if on command, the flies shift to turn the ‘finger’ down. Giggling further at Ethan’s astounded expression, the witch stands up, her flies coalescing to reform her hand again. “Not exactly human, am I?”
Moving her doctor’s bag through the cell bars, she effortlessly swarms through them, before picking up the bag and going into the darkness, letting out some parting words for Ethan: “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back soon.”
Scoffing at the obvious mockery, Ethan stands up himself, still feeling weak and drained, but at least no longer in crippling pain. Looking at his cell, he sees two solid stone walls to the south and east. West wall looked like it was made of rickety iron bars. Giving them a pull, he is dismayed to find out that they felt much stronger than they looked, no way he could just break them with his bare hands. The final direction was occupied by a solid iron door, no less an obstacle than the other directions. The lock looked ancient, but again, completely solid and without any obvious defects. There was a small opening, near the floor, probably for food, as well.
No way I am getting out of here without some tools…
In the corner of the cell there was a single, blood-stained and torn mattress. In another corner was an empty bucket. Lying down on the dirty mattress, Ethan pondered his predicament, until a clicking noise took him out of his reverie. Looking up, he saw the same blonde vampire approaching him with a small tray in her hands. Coming to the cell door and crouching down to push the tray through the small opening, she gave him a playful wave. Once again dispersing and then materializing on his side of the cell, the woman gave him a small smile. Looking at the tray, Ethan could see a large vase, full of pristine water, as well as a big loaf of bread. Eyeing them with suspicion, he was interrupted by the woman’s chipper voice. “It’s not poisoned, obviously. You should eat and drink to regain your strength.” Suddenly realizing that his throat was, in fact, parched, Ethan started gulping the water down greedily, the simple liquid tasting better than anything imaginable after hours of strife he went through. The woman sat on her knees next to him, still giving him a calm smile.
Letting him eat and drink in silence, she just observed him. The moment he was done, she asked: “Feeling a bit better, I hope?” Still being in a belligerent mood after his earlier ordeal with her sisters, Ethan just barked out: “Why do you even care?” Her smile morphing into a small frown, she answered in a collected, measured voice: “I don’t particularly fancy the unnecessary suffering, unlike my sister. Your death was assured the moment you stepped inside our castle... But if I can, I’d like to make your stay here as painless and brief as possible. Hopefully Miranda will come to collect you soon and that she will grant you a quick death after she is done with whatever she plans for you. I am Bela, by the way.”
Surprised at the girl’s explanation and not seeing any signs of deceit in her eyes, Ethan just counts his blessing that at least someone in this sick place is not turned on by his misfortune. Still not wanting to thank the vampire for fixing what her crazy sisters did to him, he decides on a curt response instead: “Ethan Winters. Not a pleasure.” He gives her his right hand, which she quickly shakes, while beaming at him, before giving him another of her weird responses. “It could’ve been, in another life, perhaps?” For a moment, Ethan is struck by how attractive that vampire girl actually looked. Her full black lips smiling wide at him, her rounded cheeks glinting in the dim candle light of his cell, her bright yellow eyes sparkling with wit, and long, soft-looking blonde hair cascading down her head. Feeling like blushing, Ethan quickly lets out an awkward cough before retrieving his hand from her grasp and looks down at the cold stone floor.
I must be going completely batshit crazy in this god-forsaken place if I find that… thing attractive.
Hearing the girl stand up, Ethan once again looks up at her. Seeing her swirl through the cell bars, he almost wishes that she stayed. Picking up the tray, she gives him a small wave of her dainty hand, before turning away while saying: “Unfortunately, I do have a lot of things to take care of today. You should rest, Ethan.”
The burning question on his mind suddenly resurfacing, the man asks her in a desperate tone: “Wait!” She stops, once again turning towards him and gracing him with a questioning look, one delicate brow raised up. Ethan continues, struggling to pronounce the name of his captor: “...Bela... do you know where my daughter is? Where Rose is? Is she in the castle?” Giving the still kneeling man a sad smile, while shaking her head slightly, the blonde woman responds: “No… All I know is that Miranda has her. What she wants from her, or where she is right now, is not information I am privy to, unfortunately…”
Not giving up and deciding to push his luck, Ethan asks her, almost begging: “Is there any chance you could find that out for me? Please, Bela... Rose means everything to me, she is all I’ve got left…” Seeing the man’s grief plain in his beautiful brown eyes struck something painfully inside Bela’s own heart. Giving him a small frown, she responds slowly, unsure: “No promises...but I will try to find out what I can. Rest now, Ethan, you need to build up your strength again.” Not giving the man another glance, she quickly turns and walks away into the darkened halls of the dungeon. Waiting for the sound of clicking to die down, Ethan lets out a pained sigh. Lying down on his filthy mattress, he quickly falls into a deep slumber, his last waking thoughts being about his poor baby girl and the surprisingly kind vampire.