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The first thing he noticed was how he wasn’t breathing.
He felt like a sack of flesh laying in the hard stone crypt, his heart no longer beating and his breaths not coming as easily as they once did. His chest ached with the sudden lack of movement, causing him to force some breaths into his cold lungs. The air was stale as he sat up, pulling himself to his legs with what could only be described as a growl before collapsing to the ground unceremoniously.
He grumbled to himself as he pulled himself up, patting dust off his shoulders and front. His stomach growled and he craved something with a fierce fevir he’d never felt before. He yawned and stretched his hands over his head, taking note of how his nails were curved more than usual. He didn’t have very long nails to begin with, but it definitely made the small amount he did have look much sharper.
Suddenly the night before all came rushing back to him, and he noted that his body felt so much less fragile than before. The muscles he tried so hard to maintain we’re stronger and didn’t ache with fatigue, unwrapping his hand wraps he noticed his skin was cold but not as sickly as it appeared before. Clicking his tongue he ran it along the new set of fangs that were protruding slightly more than usual. Not nearly as long as Lewis’s mind you but definitely more prominent.
He quickly rummaged in his pockets until he found his pocket mirror, hoping to see the fangs himself. Popping the lid open he noticed the blank space where he was supposed to be. He pointed the mirror at different angles, hoping for a different result but finding the image to still be the wall behind him. He closed it with a huff. “Vampires don’t like mirrors apparently..”
Looking around he noticed that Lewis had been correct, and he was in the abandoned crypt that kids often ran into on a dare or to prove their bravery. Owen didn’t feel that brave. But he felt stronger. It struck him that it wasn’t that dark in the crypt as he remembered from his last curious excursion. Perhaps Vampires could see in the dark. That would be logical, they are night creatures according to Lewis.
Putting his pocket mirror back in his pocket he began running his hand along the stone wall as he walked towards the stairs, ascending them with ease with his newfound sight and strength. The sunlight from above was smaller than it should be, and as he reached the top of the staircase he realised it was sunset. He had been asleep (or dead he supposed) for a whole day.
He supposed it was fitting for a vampire to awaken while the sun set, beginning the night. He blinked, rubbing his eyes as he walked, attempting to aclimitise to how different seeing in lower light was. He could only imagine how awful full daylight must be for sensitive eyes like these, he wondered how Lewis did it everyday.
The forest was calm as he walked and he found himself wanting to stop and see how his senses had improved, but he stopped himself and kept walking back to town. Lewis would want to see him as soon as possible, to make sure his turn had gone smoothly. All these new feelings and senses were so overwhelming, talking to Lewis would help calm him some.
The walk was a relatively short one, not helped by the fact he had begun a short sprint in an attempt to see if his running abilities had improved (they had), so he reached the gate of Oakhurst in record time. The sun had set, leaving only the light of the lamps illuminating the town. He opened the gate hastily and walked into town, already mentally charting a course for the Mayors house.
Walking into the town he suddenly was struck by the sound of a crowd, which was odd at this time, and the sounds of fire crackling faintly. Like it had just been lit into a big bonfire. His hearing had definitely improved as the crowd sounded much closer than it was. He walked to the centre of town to see a bonfire lit up in the town centre, people all around. Pitchforks in hand, torches with flames roaring beside them, mothers ushering their children back inside.
Owen suddenly felt very, very wrong.
“The former Mayor will be sentenced to death by fire. His books on the occult will be burned with him along with his belongings. Hopefully this will rid Oakhurst of this evil.”
The crowd cheered in response, and suddenly Owen started to realise how cold he was.
He sped up his pace, rushing closer to the pire and squeezing through the crowd of people. The sound of heartbeats and blood rushing was overwhelming and Owen was feeling very, very hungry. A few people rushed to stop him, asking if he was alright but he pulled away and kept his pace until he was directly in front of the pire, staring into the face of the man who was sentencing Lewis to death.
“What. Are you doing?” Owen demanded, his voice lower than intended but ever the more threatening. Owen turned to the side to see Lewis, covered in chains being held by two large men who Owen had seen lifting crates around the town. Lewis’s eyes bore into Owens, his mouth sealed with something obviously made of silver.
“I’m sorry lumberjack, but the mayor is working with the dark arts. He is in possession of several occult objects.” The man said, fake sympathy dripping from his mouth as he threw another log on the fire. Owen felt his blood begin to boil, his cold body feeling hot with rage.
“He has done nothing wrong! All you found was a few books!” He snapped, walking over to Lewis and kneeling in front of him. The two older men attempted to back away with Lewis but Owen grabbed one of their shoulders and tightened his grip as a warning.
“I understand you might have been close with this man but he has been playing you-“
“No!” Owen yelled, stepping closer to the man feeling stronger than he ever had. Lewis tried to call out but was muffled by the cover as his chains rattled in an attempt to free himself.
“This man is the only person who’s ever treated me well.” Owen breathed heavily, “I’ve been shunned by this village since my diagnosis and nobody has done anything except offer small sympathies and condolences.”
The town murmured at his outburst, a few saying how ‘horrible it must be to have been tricked so badly.’ Even some ‘the betrayal must hurt,‘s. He turned back to the man at the pire, watching as his eyes hardened. “You have no right, he is guilty. It doesn’t matter how many honey’d words he gave you.”
Owen snarled, stepping towards the man in an attempt of intimidation but was grabbed by an older man who worked the tavern. He thrashed in his grip, scratching the man’s arm causing him to drop him. He whipped around to see several people attempting to calm him, walking up with open arms like they were trying to calm an animal. Perhaps he was. He wasn’t sure.
He turned to look at Lewis who was shaking his head, his eyes desperate and glassy. Another hand landed on his shoulder, then another on his arms until several people were grabbing at him and pulling him away from the pire and Lewis. He growled, something he didn’t know was now instinctual. The sound of blood and heartbeats and breathing was all too much, they were everywhere. All beating in different speeds and places and he could see them dragging Lewis towards the fire.
He turned and slashed his hands at people like a wild animal, just about suppressing a hiss. He was so scared. He turned to grab Lewis but was pushed back through where the crowd parted to get away from him by the man who was to kill Lewis. He had a dangerous gleam in his eyes as he threw Owen back. He was trying so hard not to just pounce on the man and sink his teeth into him. That wouldn't help, but the hunger.. It was excruciating.
He jumped, but was grabbed by two people behind him and forced to the ground. He shouted, cursed at them and scrambled to free himself. Two other people came to help hold him down, he was significantly stronger. But not strong enough. He hissed, looking towards Lewis who was as panicked as him.
Lewis kicked at his captors and fell to the ground, shaking with effort as he burst an arm free of the chains, grabbing onto the gag and pulling it out with a hiss and throwing it to the side. Owen was impressed, but Lewis looked exhausted from that simple act. Almost every chain in the village was made of silver, it was an easy resource to find. It must be taking a toll on the older vampire.
The older men shouted at the Mayors display, confused and horrified as Lewis kicked sluggishly, using his free arms to try unwrap himself from the chains. People went to stop him but he hissed at them, fangs bared and eyes red. Everyone gasped and backed away. Some screaming ’Vampire!’ and children poking out of their houses to see what was happening.
Owen thrashed, trying so desperately to go, to help Lewis, to run. But he couldn’t. His hunger was awful and the heartbeats were so enticing. He wasn’t strong enough, he’d only been a vampire for maybe a day. He watched as Lewis screeched, shaking as he managed to pull himself out of most of the chains, standing up with a stumble and a hiss as the rest of the bindings fell to the floor with a clank.
People rushed towards him with fire and pitchforks which only aggravated the man further, fear filled the vampires eyes, those eyes Owen loved to much. Owen yelled, reaching but still being held back by shaking and terrified people. The man who had sentenced Lewis was now screaming how he ‘knew it’ and to ‘kill the monster’.
Lewis snapped his head in Owens direction and swiped at the people on his way, moving faster than he thought possible and making it to Owens side. Owen felt relief wash over him as Lewis pushed the offenders off Owens back, growling protectively as the people scurried away to find weapons. The person on Owens right had fallen over with a yell of terror as Lewis went to help Owen up.
Owen stared at the young man on the ground, his stomach growling and the man’s heart beating so fast. He knew it was wrong, he shouldn’t. Lewis didn’t eat people neither will he. But before he knew it he had jumped on the young man, baring his fangs as Lewis yelped behind him.
“No Owen! Calm down, come here!” He grabbed Owens shoulder but it was too late. He sunk his teeth into the man’s neck, quickly lapping up the blood. He was going to vomit. He felt tears run down his face but the blood tasted so good, and he was so hungry. The man screamed as Lewis pulled him off of him, blood dripping onto the ground where they separated.
Several people screamed. Pitchforks being pushed in their direction as Lewis pulled Owen behind him, hissing fiercely at the offenders. Anyone who got close got a good slash from Lewis, his nails- or should he say claws being significantly longer than Owens. Owen gasped and coughed, spitting some of the remaining blood on the ground beside him. He hated how good it tasted.
Owen scanned the area around him- if they plowed through the people, claws first they might be able to make it to the gate and make a run for it. He barely registered Lewis screaming begging apologies, holding Owens middle to make sure the younger vampire stayed behind him as he retched. The townspeople gave no indication they believed Lewis’s stories. “Please! You just scared him! Leave us be and we’ll leave!” His claims of meaning no harm, just wanting to live in peace must have sounded empty to the civilians as they kept approaching.
People yelled atrocities at them, some younger people throwing garlic cloves and children crying as blood dripped from Owens mouth and chin.
Owen was grabbed from behind, roughly lifted away from Lewis and thrown to the ground several paces away from the crowd. He could see several stronger people approaching Lewis with Silver daggers and stakes, crucifixes in hand attempting to overpower him. “I don’t wish to harm any of you!” Lewis cried out, putting his hands out in an attempt to calm the mob of people.
With Owens' attention divided he didn’t notice the man from the fire start to approach. He pulled Owen up and punched him square in the jaw, throwing him on the ground again while he coughed and began stomping him with his boots. Owen saw red. He screeched something unholy as he lunged for his attacker, using all his strength to scrape and bite at the man.
The man yelled, grabbing Owen by the neck and throwing him off into a nearby house. Owen hissed as his back connected with a tree stump placed for cutting wood, knocking his head against the axe. He noted it didn’t hurt as badly as he felt it should on impact. Owen was unpracticed in fighting, but desperate. He would not hold back any longer.
He gripped the axe tight, pulling it from the log with ease and swung it in front of him. The axe felt familiar in his hands, a comforting weight. He may not know how to fight, but he knew how to wield an axe. With a new determination he stood up straight, rolled his shoulders and started approaching the man slowly, axe in hand.
“You will not take him from me.” Owen said darkly, watching as a new drop of fear filled the man’s eyes. Everyone knew how skilled Owen was with an axe, even though he was sick.
Owen found himself smiling as he lunged forward, swinging the axe with ease into the Man’s thigh. He screamed in pain as the blade sunk into his flesh with ease and he fell to the ground with a cry. Owen grunted as he pulled the ace from the man’s leg, watching as blood spurted out of the wound. The man cried in pain as people screamed. Owen dropped to his knees and startled lapping up the blood with an intensity that scared even him-
A hiss caught his attention and he immediately snapped his head up to make sure Lewis was alright. Despite his insistence on being passive and reasonable, he was not letting anyone near him. He had a gash along his arm and his clothes were torn and dirty. But his eyes shone dangerously and he noted two people lying still in the dirt at the man’s side.
The lumberjack quickly rushed over to Lewis’s side, moving faster than ever before. He stood in front of Lewis and swung his axe, screaming curses and warnings as people backed away. A man lunged from Owens left but he quickly blocked the man’s dagger with his axe hilt, kicking the man in the stomach and connecting the blade with his abdomen. The man groaned and yelled in pain but Owen paid no mind.
His only goal was to get Lewis out safely. He focused all his energy on the people around him, swinging and slashing, his head foggy with rage and purpose. He licked the blood from his lips with a satisfied hum as Lewis pouched on a man trying to attack Owen from behind. He had never felt so powerful.
Lewis cried out, grabbing Owens hand and running, getting through a small opening in the crowd- they were too fast to grab. Owen swiped a lit torch from the ground beside him and threw it at the house they were dodging past- watching as flames lit the place ablaze instantly. He hoped that might slow some people down. Owen really wished Lewis had taught him how to turn into a bat, that would have been very useful. They ran through town as the few people still standing ran after them in a heated pursuit. They just had to make it to the forest. Owen knew it like the back of his hand.
Lewis was crying, which pained Owen more than anything he had done that day. He tried not to think of the people he had potentially killed in his hunger fuelled mania. They ran and ran, quickly outpacing the civilians and made it to the gate. They jumped it and sprinted for the woods. Lewis’s grip on his hand was tight and comforting despite how cold it was.
He could hear the townsfolk screaming, he could hear people crying from inside and fire blazing. They didn’t stop, they couldn’t stop. Owen soon took over with directions, leading them through a confusing, winding, wild path around the forest and up a hill to a clearing surrounded by trees and underbrush. It was the quietest and safest place he knew in the forest.
They reached it in record time, Owen quickly shoving Lewis to hide in the dense brush of the forest. They breathed out as they listened intently for the sound of heartbeats and footsteps. They heard yelling from a distance, Owen could see the light of torches through the tree line, but after a few moments of tense silence they light retreated and the voices faded.
They were safe for now.
Lewis let out a startled gasp as he pulled Owen into a tight hug where they sat on the mossy ground. Owen startled but soon melted into the man's embrace, burying his head into his neck and inhaling his familiar scent- now tainted with ash and blood. He felt tears roll down his cheek and he started shaking, gripping on tighter to the white haired man who held him so tenderly.
“I- I’m so sorry Owen.” Lewis sniffed, rubbing Owens back and rocking back and forth in a gentle comforting motion. Owen shook his head. “N-no. Don’t you go apologising for something that isn’t your fault.” Owen mumbled into his neck, feeling Lewis shaking under his touch much like Owen himself.
“I should have kept this secret, I don’t know what I was thinking.” The vampire whispered, trying so hard to stay as put together as he usually was ”I’ve put you in harms way”
“You cured me, you know that. I would gladly spend eternity with you Lewis.” Owen huffed, pulling back to get a good look at the man’s face. It was tear stained, much like his own with splatters of blood all over it. Without thinking he gently cupped the mayor's face and wiped the blood and tears away. The man’s lips quivered as he did so. If Owen had a beating heart it would have beat out of his chest by now he was sure of it.
“Besides. I wasn’t much a fan of Oakhurst regardless.”
Lewis didn’t say anything, simply closed his eyes as they sat in the silence of the forest together. Owen had never met anyone as wonderful as Lewis, he was so kind and gentle. But had so much fire, he stood his ground and left a fight he didn’t want to win with only a scrape and some dirt. Owen could not wait to spend his eternity with this man.
This was a gift. He would make it so.