“She will never marry you.”
The words were an instant trigger of the demons he was trying to keep in check, bringing back to mind Erinna’s earlier brutal rejection of him.
“And she’ll marry you I guess? Is that why you are?”He was shouting by then, his legendary temper gripping him in its merciless unforgiving hold.
His usually enticing, mesmerising dark eyes bled over until they were a terrifying demoniac inky red. His canines extended to a length which was humanly impossible; becoming sharp little daggers which promised instant death to whoever defied their owner.
This time the Count gave in to his desires and decided to indulge himself a little. With a sharp movement of his hand, he manipulated the air particles around them, telekinetically taking a razor edged whip where it hung on the wall amongst other gruesome-looking torture devices. In an instant the whip landed on the man’s very bare back, immediately drawing out blood. His screams of torture filled the torture chamber.
“Erinna is mine. And mine alone. There is nothing you or anyone can do about it. Is that clear?” The last words were spoken slowly and with emphasis as if he were talking to a demented imbecile.
He only granted the man a fraction of a second to reply before he harshly brought the whip down on the man’s back again, leaving a deep gash across the first one. Only two stripes from the Count and his back was already a torn tattered mess.“I expect an answer.”
“Y-y-yes,” stammered the man amid his abuse. Dracula swung the whip again, drawing sharp tortured screams from the man as it made contact.
“Yes what?” he spat out impatiently.
“Yes I u-u-understand.”
“You’re catching up,” Dracula affirmed in a satisfied voice. Delivering punishment and instilling discipline was a subject he had studied to the last degree.
“Who sent you? What business does a human have with elves?” Dracula only gave the man a second to reply and when he hesitated, his temper flared again. “I do not ask a question twice. That was just courtesy; your mind is accessible to me with or without your will.”
Before his victim could even blink, Dracula was at his side; the creature of the night’s inhumane canines digging into his throat. The action opened the man’s mind to Dracula and what he saw didn’t surprise him. He had known only one being would be at the centre of all this. Eric Ellington had never hid his feelings about Dracula’s marriage to his daughter. It was clear by the desperate length’s he had gone to make sure no one knew of her existence.
After getting the answer he wanted, he didn’t linger to analyse the rest of the man’s thoughts; a reckless decision he would regret later. Dracula roughly removed his fangs from where they were buried in the man’s throat, tearing the skin off and leaving flesh hanging out.
“Alexander bring me the tongue tearer,” he instructed, verdict decided. The cogwheels in his mind were turning fast as he tried to decide what to with his newly found information.
“No, no please. Please no, I will talk. I will tell you anything,” the man broke into full begging mode, sobbing unashamedly as he looked his fate straight in the eye with fear and trepidation.
Dracula was not vampire to change his mind though.He could have laughed had he not been in such a foul mood. It always amused watching his victims begging for their lives. Sometimes he would toy with them, making them believe they could convince him; that they stood a chance. He would give them false hope; lure them into a false sense of security only to brutally pull the rug from underneath their relaxing feet. They would beg and beg and he would let them because he knew his answer, his bottom-line was always the same.
“You had your chance but decided to play me for a fool. Since it appears you have no use for your tongue, why don’t we remove it and save you the labour of carrying it around?” His voice was sickeningly sweet, a stark contrast to what he was implying.
Dracula took the tongue-tearer from Alexander. It was one of his personal favourites from his vast collection of torture devices. Alexander already knowing what to do, forced the man’s reluctant mouth open with a mouth-opener.Dracula stuffed the iron tool uncomfortably into the man’s mouth, roughly gripping his tongue while Alexander held it open.
Once he managed a firm grip, he tightened his hold on the tongue-tearer, and roughly tore the man’s tongue. Immediately the human’s ear-piercing screams and pleas of mercy which had been drowning the room were reduced to gurgling sounds as he choked on his own blood.Dracula roughly tossed the iron tools aside before holding out his hand. Alexander dutifully placed another white handkerchief, the second one that day into his master’s hand.
Dracula wiped the man’s blood off his hands, removing all evidence that might associate him with the gruesome event that had just taken place. He was a naturally hygienic vampire and also did not wish to scare his bride.“Shall I throw him into a cell and let him languish there?” Alexander asked his maker but Dracula was distracted.
Something was not ringing right. No one would be foolish enough to snoop around about Erinna in his territory. Especially in Transylvania right under his nose. There was a detail he was missing, a hidden agenda. His line of thought was broken off by Alexander.
“My lord?” He repeated after failing to get an answer.
“I was asking if...”
“I heard you the first time,” the Count interrupted him before he could finish, “And no, do not throw him in a cell. Just break his bones and elbows. Take him to Death Town tomorrow; I will decide what to do with him then.”
Alexander was curious about what the Count had seen in the human’s head but lacked the guts to ask. It was not his place to question his master. The Count being the Sire, the original vampire from whence they had all come from had extraordinary abilities. Even Alexander after being with him for 2700 year did not know the full extent of his powers.
Every time he thought he had finally figured his maker out, Dracula would totally discredit his theories by doing something out of this world. His ability to look into people’s heads was the least of his talents. It was a gift that made Alexander very uncomfortable, not that he had anything to hide from his maker, but still...
“Don’t worry, I will take care of the trespasser,” he promised.
“Don’t stop the whipping. If he reaches the point of death, revive him with vampire blood and do it over and over again.”
Ok people..Now I'm not one to usually demand comments and favourites but is anyone other than my miserable lil sister actually reading this?....Just wondering....and thanks to those who are and have actually said something