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‘Don't do this,’ she wanted to whisper, to beg, to scream as she realized the outline of her house in the distance. ‘Please, don't do this.’ But she did not say it. She did not speak. Instead, being like frozen in the saddle of her horse.
Her mind was racing. Trying to find a way to stop him. To stop the man. The man who called himself Lazarus. Not that it mattered.
She could not stop him, of course. What had seemed like out of a fairytale but two months ago had become such a dreadful reality. Vampires. Monster. All real.
She always had been strong. Strong enough to overcome any human she had ever faced. But he was not human. He was, as she understood it, not even normal for a vampire. Being old. Very old. Very strong. She was a fledgeling, as he told her. A fledgeling, the hunger still burning in her throat, still consuming her.
Everything in her wanted to storm that house and warn them. Get them out. Kocelj, Andrija, Braz and Mislava. Her siblings. The ones she had left home for in the first place. If she tried, Lazarus might kill her, but what did it matter? Her life had always just been second to theirs.
And yet she did not move. Still frozen in that saddle. Because the hunger was burning her throat. Like an angry cat it was scratching her up from the inside. If she went in there, it would be her killing them. She would kill them, because the monster having taken her over was stronger.
She looked at the man. Lazarus. He was broad shouldered just like her. His hair had already been grey, when he had been turned. Now it adorned his head short and stern. A short beard covering his chin. His eyes were blood-red and there was a smile playing around his lips.
He spoke. Speaking to her with this name that was not really hers, never had been. Not that he cared. Not that he ever cared. Nobody ever did. Because it was all she was to them. This name that was not hers, but the warrior’s she had been forced to become.
He said it again. That name. Red eyes piercing into her soul. The smile showing his fangs. “Don't you want to stop me?” It was a challenge. Just to see what she would do. She was his now. He had made that clear. His warrior. Just like the other five. His warriors, who would serve him without question.
She looked at the house. It was barely more than a hut. They had always been poor. Especially after their father had died. And then their mother. And Lovro, the oldest brother. Because that was, what people did. They died. Only that she would not, no? She would not any longer. Being barred from death as it seemed.
“Don't you want to go in there? Warn them?” He was taunting her.
The hunger was there. It was all-consuming. He had allowed her to feed only every three days, so that the hunger was always there, begging to take over, begging her to just go wild, grab the next human she saw and rip out their throat.
She had never wanted to be this, of course.
“I will give you a chance,” Lazarus said. “You go in there and get them out. You take them away. And I will let you go.”
She knew he hated that defiant gaze in her eyes, so he had spent those last two months breaking it down. What did she look like now? Desperate. She was desperate first and foremost.
Again. The name. The name that was not hers. “I am giving you a chance here. Don't you want to go?”
She looked at the house, the hut, the home. She did not cry, because boys did not cry now, did they? Her fingers on the reins were trembling and she wished to go. She wished to go and take them, those humans that had always been her world.
They had been nine children once. Now they were only five. And soon…
The name. Again. “I take this as a no?”
What could she do? What could she do? Nothing. Because no matter how strong she had thought herself as a human, she was nothing towards this vampire who had turned her into a demon she had never wanted to be. He had already taken so much. Now he would take the last bit.
She shook her head, the horse noticing her anxiety and prancing backwards.
“I thought so,” Lazarus smiled, as he looked to the other men. “It is going to be virgin blood, right?” His fangs were showing as he grinned and the other men were laughing. With only one of them hesitating for but a moment. Then their horses stormed off. Towards the house, that laid just a bit away from the tiny village. The house that only had one room, in which they had always huddled up during those long winter nights. The house that had once been her whole world.
They kicked in the door. And there were screams. Her siblings screaming. She did not even see it. But she felt it. Deep in her heart she could feel it. Their deaths. Taking away whatever had been left from the human that had left this place to make just enough money to allow for them to live a better life.
And still, she would not cry. Because men did not cry, did they? Only that she was not a man, never had been. Not a human now either.
The screams stopped. It did not even take long, until Lazarus' hand made it onto her shoulder. The smile on his lips was but a parody of a fatherly smile, as he softly said: “I want you to go in there. I want you to see them. I want you to finally understand, what you are.”