Blood Moon, page 4
part #1 of Lord of Shadows Series
"What’s going on? Who were you talking to?" I asked through a coughing fit. Drops of blood splattered my hand. I was dead. So dead. Not even God could save me now.
Katarina lightly slapped my cheek.
"Don’t talk unless I ask you to." She rested her hand under my chin. " Just breathe. It’ll be over soon. Until then, I’ll help you the best as I can."
Over soon? Death? I didn’t know if I looked forward to or dreaded it. But Katarina’s voice was soothing, but beyond tearing her dress and bandaging me up, as well as letting me sneak a peek at her long, lean legs, I still had no idea how she could have saved me. Asking me to suffer a few more minutes seemed cruel of her. But at least I wasn’t alone, which made it okay I guessed.
Katarina’s hand pushed down on my wound. A faint, blue light enveloped her hand. The pain faded some once more. I breathed easier for a long moment, taking in short gasps of air. I yearned for deep lungfuls of the now expensive substance. Katarina, however, appeared a bit worse for wear as she started to gasp. Her chest heaved for air as well, and she held the same spot on herself where my wound was. She bit her lip and moaned.
I was about to speak up, to thank her, to praise her as if she were a goddess, but she put her fingers over my mouth and shushed me. There was nothing but a state of being, strange yet familiar as my eyes roamed the sky, staring up at the moon.
High above me, something frightening silhouetted against the full moon. A feminine creature with pointed wings like a bat floated high up in the sky. Her three red eyes looked straight at me as if reading directly into my soul. The one on her forehead blinked, looked around, and then disappeared.
She drifted to the ground and folded her wings behind her. Long black boots crunched the new spring life peeking up through the frost as she marched towards us.
"Is this the problem you were having?" asked the light and whispery voice. She crossed her arms and looked at Katarina.
Katarina bowed her head and folded her hands. "Yes, mistress. That’s him. He’s the one who saved my life earlier today."
The woman brushed Katarina’s face with her long fingers and blacked nails.
"Hah! As if you couldn’t have ripped them all apart if you wanted to. Don’t insult me, Katya!" she scoffed.
Her voice was seductive, full of lust yet cold and feral. Even primordial. Her sheer presence sent shivers down my spine, even though I had no idea who, or what she was.
"I never said that--"
"Very well, Katarina. I will do this for you once. But don’t ask such a request of me again, understand?"
The way she drew out Katarina as if she’d longed for the healer. Then, her pale face came into focus. The truth about her red, glistening eyes, and her red, amber hair.
The wings, they were something else in entirety. Dark as the darkest night, sharp edges and spiky protrusions at the ends. The little clothing she wore said more than I wanted to know, though. She was one of the warlords most likely. A long, knee-length tunic covered her upper body, held tight by a belt bound around her waist. The pale flesh that disappeared under the tunic was enticing, calling me.
"Do you want to be saved, young man?" the woman standing over me asked with an easy smile. Her full lips slightly apart, revealing sharp, long fangs.
Without the power to reply, I nodded slowly. My body was getting colder. I needed a blanket, or someone to warm me. Or just my friends back, Vera and Andrej. Has he caught them yet? Are they still alive?
Thought after thought rushed through my mind. I didn’t want to die, not yet. I needed to live in order to find them and keep my word to Vera.
"Come here," the woman whispered as she snapped her fingers.
I floated up into the air as if lifted by a gentle breeze, all sensation of weight and pain gone. My eyes roamed over her body. Her wings were folded, barely invisible, loose strands of hair danced in the wind as her hips swayed from one side to the other. There were worse ways to die I imagined.
"Katya?" the woman called out, not even glancing toward her servant, or whatever she was to this-- strange woman.
"I’m coming," Katarina replied and knelt beside me, her hand closed around mine. A warm smile graced her beautiful, pale face. It was so strange how I forgot her teeth had been ridiculously sharp as well, until this very moment.
Time passed as I faded in and out of consciousness. I felt the moon shine down on my skin, as the cold air dulled what little feeling there was left in me. The two women were busy for what felt like an eternity before they finally stopped making a ruckus and just sat there staring at the broken basin.
"Such a shame," the other woman whispered. "This used to be a holy place for one of my ancestors. Whatever."
"We’re ready, mistress?" Katarina said firmly, avoiding eye contact with me.
"Say the words," the woman ordered as she looked back at me and flashed a wide grin. With practiced ease, she brought both wrists to her mouth and punctured her veins, one by one. Then she leaned in and smeared some of it across my lips.
"Lick the blood clean," she whispered. Used to blood, I didn’t think much about it. Was there anything a few drops could do to me, what a knife hadn’t? Maybe I should have been more careful, but I was basically motionless, just laying there, dying.
My tongue felt like it was about to explode as it tasted her blood, a wicked, numbing pain shot out directly at my mind.
The mistress smirked for a long moment, licking her lips. When she was done, she looked up and cried at the moon, forcing me to wince. The shriek was so loud and penetrating, that I almost felt violated. Faster than I could follow, she turned to me and leaned in, pressing her lips against mine.
A cold, deathly feeling crawled down my skin, filled my insides and made me want to puke as the drops of blood entered my insides. But her lips were still pressed against mine, her tongue roaming around in my mouth, tasting me, testing me. Then, the world felt like it had stopped just for the two of us, and that my heart had been ripped clean from my chest.
With a sheer force of will, I shuddered from the pain and lifted my head, barely managing to look down my body. The mistress’s hand stuck out of my chest, pressing into my heart with her wicked talons.
I fought for air and tried to lift my hands to try and stop her. But I had nothing left to give. I was already with one foot in the grave, and the second floated nearby.
"Don’t try to fight it, or I might accidentally kill you," the woman whispered as her hand entered even further, painting a deaf scream on my face. I could feel her claws scratching at my heart, probing it, massaging it.
"Shhh," Katarina whispered soothingly and ran her fingers down my cheek. "Everything will be alright."
As if. I was terrified beyond words. Not that I was going to die, but that she could do this forever if she chose to. She was either a demon, or something sent from hell to punish those who didn’t believe. Whatever she was, it excited me to no end.
Katarina brought her face close to mine, a compassionate smile gracing her features, apologizing for whatever was going on without even saying so.
"Hold on a little longer, alright? My queen will save you. Hold onto what’s dearest to you, and live," she whispered.
"He’s a big guy, no?" the woman asked as she looked down at me. Katarina snorted and shook her head. "What? Did I say something wrong, Katya? Oh no! Don’t tell me you’re interested in this-- bag of meat and blood?"
"N-no! Not at all, queen Tierney. In fact, I think it would be best to take him with us, no?"
"Yes, but for what purpose? And answer my goddamn question!"
Her hand constricted with even more force around my heart, sending me into shock.
"You’re killing him!" Katarina cried out, her voice a few octaves higher in pitch. "Stop it! Please!"
"Only if you make me. But whatever. I can always get rid of him if I feel like it later on. Now It’s time for him to die."
If my eyes could have opened even wider, they would have done so. I thought she was trying to save, and not kill me! Unfortunately, I was all out off strength to fight back. For the couple seconds I remained conscious, I glanced the mistress licking her hand clean of my own blood, her long nails looking as much as any claw I’d seen in my life. She grinned and leaned in close, her breath even colder than the cool night's air against my skin.
"Welcome, to the ranks of the dead."
Chapter Six
Nightmares. I couldn’t remember when I had any the last time. Maybe when I was given to the count and beaten the same day? This one was far worse than any before though, as death loomed overhead, biting into my soul and shredding it to pieces.
I woke up with a gasp, my heart threatening to burst from my chest. My body was all wet, sweaty and dirty. I felt like puking, sick of everything that I was. What was even wrong with me? I haven’t been sick for a very long time, not even the slightest fever.
Where was I anyway? I didn’t recognize this room, this soft bed, and the lavish furniture. Real, genuine wood, carved and hewn to perfection.
Something kept gnawing at me from inside. A hunger. No, a deathly hunger. As if I was on the brink of death and needed-- something. That little something to survive.
A low growl escaped my mouth, hands curled into fists. Without realizing it, I ripped the sheets beneath me apart.
My teeth. They felt wrong in my mouth. The canines were too large and too sharp. I pressed my tongue into them, only to cut myself, drawing blood. The tongue healed almost immediately, what’s even more, I could feel the tiny holes growing together.
I dropped back onto the bed and sat there for a while, staring into the room lit by low burning candles. The flames flickered and danced a wild, primordial dance giving off a spicy aroma. To the right of the bed, I noticed a beautiful vanity, with an oval mirror sitting atop.
I frowned. There was no reflection in the mirror. Maybe it was an imitation? After all, silver was expensive to come by, and not every mirror was coated with the substance.
I got up and stepped in front of the vanity, staring at it. Nothing. I turned around, again nothing. In a panic, I looked down at my own body. Muscles bristled all over my body as if I’ve been a blacksmith all of my life, and not a butcher. But, why was I naked? And where was my wound? I slid my hand across where the knife had hit me. It was smooth as a baby’s skin like the wound never had even existed.
A sudden, biting cold came over me. I attributed it to being naked during a cold morning and sighed. Then, I noticed my breathing was all fine. In fact, I never felt better in my life. Even despite nausea, the cold and strange, tingling feeling, along with the deathly hunger.
A soft moan from behind drew me back to the moment. Turning around, my eyes landed on Katya’s naked body. In a single breath, my face had gone from what I assumed was a gentle white, to a hot red as I turned away from her, hands on my privates.
I heard her patting the bed, but it was barely audible. She giggled and called me over, noticing that I heard her. Why was I even embarrassed? I had a good tool and knew how to use it.
"Your body is adapting. And much faster than usual at that," Katya whispered. But I could still hear her as clear as if she’d spoken out loud. She giggled again and tapped the bed with her long, thin fingers. I turned around, my hands no more covering my privates as I indulged myself in what she had to offer.
I gulped, momentarily at a loss for words.
"My lady, if I acted untowardly, I apologize. I never-- My injuries-- You’re a priestess of the cloth and!"
Katya’s sultry voice sounded like music in my ears. There was something different to the woman than what I’ve been shown during our brief time together. She was much more than what she wanted me to believe.
"Please, don’t make me rethink my decision, Ivan. You don’t want me to wake everyone up, do you?"
I frowned, taking the warning two-folded. She might be teasing me, but she might as well be giving a threat.
Katya slid off the bed and slowly walked around it. I could feel her approach, in a way that was much more than see her do it, or hear her steps. I felt that she was there, standing behind me.
She slid her fingers up my back, tracing my spine with her long nails.
"You don’t remember anything about last night?" she asked, her cold breath sending chills down my back.
"I don’t--," I stammered. But the memories trickled in, bit by bit. They didn’t make sense though. Instead of throwing her to the bed in victory at our escape, and her beckoning me with a finger, then running it along her breasts, down her stomach, and between her legs, inviting me, begging me to celebrate with her-- all the memories I tried to conjure, but couldn’t. They were only present in my imagination.
Blood. Yes, there was blood, and pain, and darkness, and-- death. Tears stung my eyes, but they wouldn’t come out. Why? Why wasn’t I able to cry? I survived death-- hadn’t I?
She grabbed my shoulders with both arms, her nails digging in deep and turned me around like it was nothing. With ease I wouldn’t think possible, she pushed me against the mirror. I barely caught myself on the vanity, my reflexes much better than what they used to be. The wood cracked slightly under my firm grip.
"Hmph. As if I’d lay with a newborn," she scoffed. "You’re lucky enough to see all of me, to see all of this," she said nodding down at her body.
I stood there, mouth open wide.
"You can-- read my mind?" I asked, my eyes roaming her body appreciatively. The shadows accented the deep curves in her body. Her black hair cascaded down her chest, covering both breasts as if on will.
Shaking my head, I tried to understand what she was playing at, and why she stood in front of me like the day she was born. "So?"
She grinned, drawing her lip back and revealing a sharp fang.
"The Queen wasn’t sure you were strong enough to survive, so I was ordered to keep you warm, is all."
Katya stepped past me and pulled a brush from the vanity, brushing the forest out of her hair.
I cleared my throat and looked away from her, trying to find my clothes. I found a new set, neatly folded on the nightstand with a coat draped over the back. A black woolen surcoat that cowled at the neck, and split up the legs in the front and down the arms for greater movement. A red silk shirt lay atop of my trousers which I’d gotten from the count. They still fitted as I pulled them up around the waist, though they were a bit too tight with the naked woman behind me. My boots had been cleaned of the forest muck and tended to with a black creme. I tucked my trousers into my boots and pulled the surcoat on. Underneath it, was longsword. Its sheath was studded with black leather, and embroidered with a golden thread.
"Presents from our Queen," Katya said as she put an arm around me. Why had she accented the word our so heavily?
"Our queen?"
She pressed her body against mine. It was as cold as a snake’s.
"Are you deaf?"
I sighed and instead appreciated her touch. The moment felt like it lasted a lifetime before she stepped past me and picked up another set of folded clothing and dropped it onto the bed. The silky blue gown was gone and instead replaced by a commoner’s undyed woolen smock and skirt with a blue duster that clasped with a broach at her breasts. The clothing mostly hid her shape.
It didn’t even take a single heartbeat after she got dressed, that my heart thudded in my chest, longing for what was underneath once more. At last, she draped her head with a veil and held it in place with a thick, woven band, attached by golden rings that framed her face.
I wasn’t dumb. In some occasions, true, yes I was, but not when it came to something like this. The Queen saved my life, gifted me new clothing, a weapon to call my own, as well as a purse full of silver. A hundred coins I assumed. She would want something in return, I was sure of it.
"What does our Queen expect in exchange for the gifts?" I asked resignedly. The way it looked, I would never be free. All I wanted to do was to go to the village and ask for information on Andrej and Vera. But if the villagers had seen the two, they would have turned them in to the count, surely.
Anxiously, I pulled the cowl of the surcoat up to cover the lower half of my face. I spotted a black woolen cloak on the wall to my side. Yes, I would use that too once we left the safety of our room.
Katya tucked a stray strand of hair into her veil and pulled out a round, metal tin. She dipped her fingers in the rouge and drew circles on her cheeks and lips. I couldn’t see either of our reflections in the mirror but assumed it must have been for the show at this point, to avoid suspicion.
"It’s pretty simple. You do whatever she tells you to, whenever she tells you to, and you never ask for favors unless you want to incur more debt. And if you do have the balls to do so, expect to return it threefold. At least."
I was taken aback. The way she made it sound, was that I would have to give my life in order to get what I’d ask for. Yes, my life was debt. I grimaced and looked away from her. I had a lot to repay for being given a second life, but just how, I had no idea.
"Is that-- what you did for me?" I asked. She shot me a stare that could have killed a lesser man on the spot. So-- yes, then. I thought about pushing it but stopped short. Then, I asked another stupid question that could have gotten me killed as well.
"Who are you, anyway? Why did you dress like a clergy when you came to the village?"
"Because I am clergy," she replied, smacking her lips to smooth out the color. The stare was gone, replaced by mild amusement.
"You certainly don’t act like it," I replied.
Katya frowned.
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
I hurried to reply.
"Well, your blood magic or whatever that healing spell was, that chant at the ritual? everyone else was sleeping or cleaning the dishes. I sighed, pushing the thoughts as far away as possible. For one, Vera was the dishwasher and she’d have at least six courses and a good number of guests to clean after. She wouldn’t sleep all night.
